This Is What I Do

Disappointing Disappointments

2009-04-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

Today 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.

Yes, it's one of those posts. Depression Lite from Laura.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"I was going to save this, but might as well..." I started, then showed him the test.

He was confused, "What, is this old? Or new?"

"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."

He was surprised. And happy. "I'm happy about your news." He told me a few minutes later, after processing it.

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.

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!

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.

The Other Dreaded "A"

2009-03-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

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.

I found this article in The New York Times, and was struck by the "In Brief" bullet points at the top:

The number of Alzheimer's patients is expected to increase dramatically in coming years, straining the health care system.

Scientists have not discovered the cause nor devised effective treatments. Even diagnosis is difficult.

In the absence of therapies, attention has turned to teaching the skills necessary to cope with demented patients.

Increasingly caregivers are encouraged to validate the feelings and perceptions of the person with Alzheimer's.

The first two points, especially, struck me in their similarity to Autism.
The number of Alzheimer's patients is expected to increase dramatically in coming years, straining the health care system.
I hope Autism will not continue to increase dramatically in coming years, but it already has 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.

Scientists have not discovered the cause nor devised effective treatments. Even diagnosis is difficult.
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.

In the absence of therapies, attention has turned to teaching the skills necessary to cope with demented patients. 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!

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!

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.

Wading in Self-Pity

2009-02-23T09:23:00.000-08:00

I'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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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).

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.

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.

Blah blah blah. Whine whine whine. Time to go reheat my coffee and use the bathroom. Easy things to do without crutches.

I'll leave you with some pictures.

Mercury, Vaccines and SIDS, Oh My!

2009-01-28T15:15:00.000-08:00

This post relates to three articles I read on Monday, but didn't have the energy to blog about Monday.

First: Mercury. My favorite Roman god and neurotoxic heavy metal. Mercury has been found in high fructose corn syrup.

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.

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.)

Check out this parody 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.

Second: Vaccines. This study 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.

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 healthy Italian babies". I guess that's a yes.

While looking for a link to this study, I found this fascinating blog post.
Read this link. 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.

Third: SIDS This article 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, read this. I will leave antimony for another day (though it was very high on my and Hutton's hair tests).

I'm Here! Really!

2009-01-26T21:41:00.000-08:00

Has it really been over a month since my last post? Why, yes! Yes, it has! Oops.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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."

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!).

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.

Time for bed.

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.)

Weather Woes

2008-12-20T11:21:00.000-08:00

This is a rarity -- two posts in one day!

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.

I replied, "So, are you saying you want to go camping?"

----------------------

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.

I'm already feeling a bit stir crazy from spending so much time inside, so I really hope the weather report isn't accurate!

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.

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-20T10:37:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

HBOT

2008-12-09T15:08:00.001-08:00

Kajoli 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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

It's Been a While

2008-12-07T21:40:00.000-08:00

I'm a poor blogger. Yeah, I'm sorry. You're not really reading this regularly anyway, right?

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!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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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.

Another Day, Another Dollar...

2008-11-15T10:06:00.000-08:00

...Or thousands, to be spent.

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!).

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.

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.

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.

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.

I won't type anything else, or I'm sure to jinx us into having more money issues come up.

Goodbye, Fergus

2008-11-11T14:01:00.000-08:00

This 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.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Historic Day

2008-11-05T09:16:00.000-08:00

Today 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.

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!

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.

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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.

Melancholy Mama

2008-11-01T18:03:00.000-07:00

Today 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It's Finally Here!

2008-10-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

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.

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?

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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!

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!

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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!

Another Exciting Week! Snore

2008-10-13T10:43:00.000-07:00

As 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.

See? Can't you feel them staring at you? Stop staring, boobs!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

After I make that mammogram appointment, that is!

Last Weekend

2008-10-04T18:49:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday at this time, I was listening to John Elder Robison 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.

Here's the proof:

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.

Please Ignore That Ad

2008-10-04T18:22:00.000-07:00

The one about flu shots. Uggh! Well, it's gone now (for some reason, I get ads on one computer, but not my laptop.)

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?

Busy/Boring Week

2008-10-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

Is that possible to be busy and bored simultaneously? Well, I guess I've been alternating between the two.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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?

I actually have a positive post about last weekend as well. I'll try to get that together, as well!

I Need to Leave My House

2008-09-26T12:45:00.000-07:00

Well, 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.

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.

Day Two

2008-09-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

Well 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!

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.

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.

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Go get Jenny's new book! 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!

A Pox on Our House

2008-09-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

Last 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.

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.

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!

The spots still look pimply, rather than the almost beautiful-sounding "dewdrops on rose petals" stage.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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 Jenny's book, and I'm trapped in a house o' pox!

Where's My Soap?

2008-09-17T21:15:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, the bus driver told me that Hutton had said a bad word twice on the bus ride home. The word? Bullshit.

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.

Anyone want to guess where he heard that? No, not from his mother. No way! I never curse!

Er, yeah, that's bullshit.

Out of the Mouths of Preschoolers

2008-09-16T10:48:00.001-07:00

Laura: Do you want to go run errands in a few minutes, Harrison?

Harrison: No. That's not good for my image.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And, no, Kim, I wasn't even going to make him go to the gynecologist with me!

September 11

2008-09-11T12:58:00.000-07:00

It'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.

Everyday is Like Sunday

2008-09-07T11:50:00.000-07:00

I 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.

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:

The First Day of School

2008-09-02T22:12:00.001-07:00

Today was Hutton's first day of first grade. New school, new teachers, new bus driver. He had half-day kindergarten last year, four days a week. This year, six hour days, five days a week. I was nervous about it. Would he be annoying the teacher from the moment he entered, asking her over and over again, "What time is lunch?" and "When are we going to get lunch?" Or would he only ask once and wait patiently until lunchtime?

While Hutton was at school, Harrison and I had lots of fun. Oh wait, no we didn't. We went first to the Department of Licensing to get my driver's license renewed. [Interestingly, this is listed as a "Driver License" online. I guess they didn't want to mess with that apostrophe. Is it one driver's license, or is this every drivers' license? Hmm. Just take out the apostrophe and S!] The renewal process involved taking a number, sitting several minutes, having my vision checked, then taking a new picture, which looks ass-tastic. Why does my hair always have to look like greasy animal pelts when I'm getting my license picture taken? I washed it! Really! Well, maybe it won't look so heinous when the real license arrives in the mail in a week. Yeah, I'm holding my breath on that one.

Next in our morning tour of fun: the vehicle emissions test station. Yes, my car had to be tested in order to renew my (overdue) car registration. (Did I mention my license also was overdue, expiring on my birthday two weeks ago? Whoops!) Hang out in another line, this time in my car. At least this time I got to listen to the radio.

Next up: Another Department of Licensing. This one for the car registration tabs. I didn't want to risk getting pulled over with expired plates, so I stood in yet another line to get new tabs, rather than do the easy thing and mail them a check. While Harrison and I stood in line, a man with a prosthetic leg came in. Can you guess who pointed at the man and said really loudly, "Look, Mommy! Look at that!" Sigh. I told Harrison it's not polite to point at people, though I'm sure I would've been intrigued by a prosthetic leg and pointed at the man when I was four, too.

After all that fun? I took Harrison to McDonald's. No further comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutton got off the bus around 3:20, and I asked him about his day. He didn't tell me much, but I opened his backpack and found a wondrous half-sheet of paper. It was a grid, filled with stars. Down one side were listed the activities of the day, and across the top were the proper behaviors expected of Hutton. Every single grid had a star in it! Twenty-eight stars! I high-fived Hutton and told him how happy, proud, excited, etc. I was that he'd earned all of his stars on the first day of school. Of course, that just means he's set the bar very high for himself this year! We'll see.

Harrison gets the day off tomorrow -- he gets to go back to preschool in the morning, instead of running more fun and exciting errands with Mommy.

Schadenfreude

2008-09-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Is it wrong that I'm really happy right now after hearing the latest with McCain's VP pick?

Oh well.

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

The End of Summer

2008-08-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

This is the final week of summer vacation for the boys (and me!). Next Tuesday, Hutton goes to first grade, and Harrison starts his pre-K class Wednesday. This week, I've been doing my best to sleep in, as I realize these lazy sleeping-in weekdays will be over soon.

Hutton turned SEVEN on Saturday! I can't believe I have a child that old. Well, then again, I just turned SOME AGE OVER 30 two Saturdays ago, so it's possible. Just amazing how time flies.

Monday, we went to see Wall-E again with my BFF and her kids. I really do love that movie.

Today, we headed to the Evergreen State Fair in Monroe. Yeehaw! Before hand, I got my name down on a wait-list to rent a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. The phone rang as I was walking out the door, and it was the hyperbaric rental folks! Yes, I convinced Hubby that we needed this, and he agreed. He didn't offer to buy one, however. He said, "OK, rent one for a month and we'll see how it goes." Hey, that's pretty good for Mr. Cynical. So, in October, we're supposed to have a chamber headed our way. Another Yeehaw!

We started our fair day out in a bad way, however. The boys had to use the bathroom as soon as we entered the fair gates. The women's room line was out the door, of course, and Harrison was grabbing his crotch and dancing. Hmm. I very, very stupidly told the boys to go together into the men's room, and then to "Come right out!" after peeing, and we'd wash hands in the women's room. I waited by the door, anxiously, as I started thinking, "Bad idea!" as soon as they boys walked into the men's room without me. Can you guess how that could have possibly gone wrong?

Of course, there was a back door to the bathrooms. Of course, Hutton went out the back door, Harrison went out the front, and when Hutton wasn't with him, I said, "Where's Hutton?" Hmm. My friend's husband went into the men's room. No Hutton. CRAP.

My friend went to the lost kids tent, while I grabbed Harrison's hand and started crying, thinking, "Why do I even bother to try to be normal? What the hell was I thinking that my boys could possibly go to the bathroom without something horrible happening?" Sigh.

A few minutes, that seemed like years, later, my friend received a call on her cell phone. They had Hutton in the lost kids tent. Phew.

When we got there, Hutton was happy to see us, and laughingly told me how he got lost. Glad someone enjoyed it!

Afterward, the rest of the day went well. We spent too much money riding kiddie rides, though the boys and I also went on the Ferris Wheel, which was the highlight of the day for me. We saw some dogs being shown, and toured the barns of various livestock. We ate crappy food, and the boys won some crappy little stuffed animals, but they enjoyed themselves, and we managed to leave with the same number of people as we arrived with, barely.

So, a little reminder to myself that Hutton is not at the stage yet where he can be trusted in a public restroom by himself. It was very stupid of me to believe he was there yet, but lesson learned. However, this time he didn't run off, like he did the last time I lost him (spring of '07 at a birthday party). He simply went out the wrong door, probably following someone else out. Eh. I guess that's some progress.

What a Great Idea!

2008-08-20T00:45:00.000-07:00

And for once, I'm not being sarcastic!

Surf on over to Lend 4 Health, a site where you can loan a family money to help them cover the costs of various autism treatments!

I'm going to loan money, but first I have to try to get Hubby to agree to loan me "our money" to buy a hyperbaric chamber so we can start HBOT treatment with Hutton. Think he'll go for it?! I brought it up over dinner (and wine) Saturday, when Hubby once again said that Hutton has brain damage from birth, not autism. (OK, sure sweetie. All of those doctors and therapists are wrong. It looks like a duck and walks like a duck, but it's really a...platypus?) I pointed out that HBOT is a promising new treatment for autism, as well as for, uh, brain damage from birth. We'll see. When I saw the numbers, I realized a hyperbaric chamber ain't exactly something I'm going to cover with a couple of coffee mystery shops, though. Hubby doesn't really drive his car much these days. He usually takes the bus. I'd much rather have a hyperbaric chamber, I think! Somehow I don't think Hubby would agree. We shall see...

Slacker Blogger

2008-08-14T22:58:00.000-07:00

Yes, once again, I've let several weeks go by without blogging. Oh well.

Let's see, Harrison has had his second session of swim lessons the past two weeks. Hutton wasn't able to repeat his class, as there wasn't an opening, so instead he went to the playground with me instead of clinging tightly to his swim instructor. Yeah, Hutton wasn't willing to float in the water during his lessons. Needless to say, there will be private lessons in his future.

Last month, during the second week of classes, Harrison got a report card, saying that he was doing fine in the class, but wouldn't bob his head under the water, and in order to move up to the preschool 2 class, he had to bob his head three times. I told him this, and he was quite indignant, claiming he had bobbed his head under twice, and could do it three times. OK, great! So, when we received the report card from this month's classes, guess what it said? If you said, "Harrison didn't do the bobs again!" you're correct! Arrgh. I asked him about it after class, and this time he didn't bother with false indignation, and just said, "I don't want to get water up my nose." All right.

Later, while watching some Olympic swimming, I pointed out to Harrison that all of the swimmers were putting their heads under the water. Hmm. I pointed out to Hutton that all of the swimmers could probably float in the water before they learned to swim, too. Well, we have more swim lessons in our future, I guess, if I want one of my boys to be the next Michael Phelps. Ha.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday, after leaving the pool after Harrison's class, I drove by this bear statue in downtown Kirkland. The sun was shining down through the open sunroof of the car, and I just got this feeling of...not really enlightenment, but along those lines. It was a sense that everything would be all right with Hutton. He's had a pretty good summer. He and Harrison have been playing very well together, though of course, they have their "brotherly moments" meaning there's is violent fighting over Xbox controllers, etc.

But, Tuesday, my sense of not-really-enlightenment was tempered a bit when Hubby and I took the boys to the UW to participate in a scientific study on Autism. Now, I don't really feel that "Science" has given us too much in the autism world, so far. At least mainstream science, or the scientists who seem to believe that autism is solely caused by genetics. But, this study was interesting, in that it involves families with one child affected by autism, and one or more children without autism, as well as neurotypical parents. So, since my family fits that mold, and I saw the poster about the study at the UW, I figured, what the heck. (Plus, the fact that they were going to pay us $250 for a few hours of our time and a little blood didn't hurt!) But really, I figured I'll do my part for science, but didn't expect much from science in return.

When I filled out the paperwork, there was a clear statement that by participating in this study, there really was not anything that would be offered for your child with autism, but this was to help future generations. Hmm. We'll see.

So, I entered the study with my normal degree of skepticism. We showed up at the UW and soon were being weighed and photographed, as well as having our heads measured. Then, we split up. Hubby and Harrison went to get blood samples drawn, and were then free to entertain themselves for the next two hours, whereas I went off to answer questions about Hutton's social, speech, and motor skills, and autistic behaviors for two hours, and Hutton got to play various games and answer questions for two hours. I finished my questions early, and went to sit in and watch Hutton on a monitor for the last twenty minutes or so of his interview.

Let me say, this was just odd. I know from previous testing done by a school psychologist that Hutton doesn't do well in these interview situations. He gets bored, and doesn't really enjoy answering questions or chatting for two hours. I watched him, as the interviewer asked him to tell her a story based on some pictures, show her how to wash his face at the imaginary sink she showed him on the table in front of him, then asked him questions about his friends, family and school.

Question: "Who are your friends, Hutton?" Answer: "Mommy, Daddy and Harrison!"
Question: "Do you have a girlfriend?" WTF? He's 6, and has autism!
Answer: "Amy!" Hey, pretty good!
"Is Amy in your class?"
"She's in my pony class!" She's my friend's daughter, but they did, in fact take a pony class together.
"Do you want to marry Amy?" Again, WTF? He's 6! I don't think he even knows what marry means.
"Yeah." I noticed Hutton answered yes or yeah to many things that I didn't think he understood.
"What do you think is good about being married?" Super duper WTF!
No answer. "What do you think is hard about being married?" Again, no answer, or yeah. Can't remember.
Finally moving beyond marriage questions for the almost 7-year-old boy, who of course, is highly marriage focused. What 7-year-old boy isn't?
"Are you bullied at school?" Yeah, I'm really sure Hutton has any idea of what bullying is.
"Yeah." Call CPS, stat!
"Do people make fun of you?"
"Yeah." Hutton has never hear the terms bully from me, and I've talked about being mean, but not "making fun of."
"What makes you angry?"
"I'm happy!"
"What does it feel like when you're angry?"
No answer.
"What does you feel like inside your body when you're angry?"
"My brain is inside my body!"
"What makes you sad?"
"Be happy!"
"What does it feel like inside your body when you're sad?"
"Yeah."

You get the idea. Oh, and throw in Hutton asking what time they were going to turn off the lights every other question, and looking at the various video cameras and asking when they were going to turn them off. At one point, another researcher mentioned that because of Hutton's high vocabulary, they gave him the questionnaire for older kids. OK, you can see how well that worked. I have no idea what the first hour and a half were like, but based on what I saw, he may as well have answered, "I like tacos!" to every question.

Afterwards, Hutton and I left together, and he asked again when they were going to turn off the lights, and I figured out it was because they were overhead florescent lights, and those tend to annoy Hutton, and he hadn't spent a lot of time under florescent lighting all summer.

We then went for the blood draw. Hutton has had blood drawn before for medical tests, but this time he wasn't going for it. They managed to get the three vials, and he got a lovely SpongeBob bandage, plus a big doggie sticker, and some juice. He looked pale and sweaty, though, so we waited a few minutes before leaving, and I told Hutton how strong and brave he was.

So, that was our contribution to science.

Oh...Wow

2008-07-31T23:40:00.000-07:00

Just logged on to Hubby's company's health website to check on the insurance situation with Hutton's ABA, to see if I need to resend any forms for reimbursement (yes, that's long and hard to follow!) and saw this:

News for You

New Children's Vaccines Added

A CDC panel has approved a new two-dose rotavirus vaccine for infants, a five-disease vaccine for infants, and a four-disease booster vaccine for children.

Oh, wow. How did they know I was so into the latest in children's vaccines? Wow! A five-disease vaccine for infants! Sounds sooo safe. Too bad I don't have any infants anymore. But, sign me up for that four-disease booster! Taking both the boys in for it...when hell freezes over.

And just what went into this CDC panel's approval process? Did Paul Offit, a patent holder on the Rotatec vaccine play any part? I'm sure that wouldn't be the case. No conflicts of interest in our beautiful, happy world of pharmaceuticals!

Blech

2008-07-31T17:53:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm home. More on that, and the title of my post, later.

We went to California last Thursday for a wedding. The boys were great on the plane, we enjoyed some lovely weather in Aptos, California, and stayed in a hotel at the beach for three nights. Friday, Hubby took the boys to the Monterrey Aquarium while I had lunch with the bride-to-be and my other college friends, followed by manicures and pedicures. Friday night, the boys had fun playing an impromptu game of "octopus tag" with the other little boys at the rehearsal dinner. Octopus tag: One boy had a toy octopus from the aquarium gift shop, and the boys took turns chasing whoever had the octopus. It kept the little guys entertained for a long time.

Saturday, Hubby and I drove the boys to San Jose to spend the day with my stepsister's family. Her son was having his first birthday party, and my stepmother offered to watch the boys at the party, then bring them home with her Saturday night while Hubby and I were at the wedding. That was great, as Hubby and I could relax, and drink, at the wedding, and at a pub afterwards.

Sunday, Hubby and I got to sleep in (real sleeping in, meaning there weren't little boys waking us up every 30 minutes to ask for breakfast, or more breakfast, or wanting to know when we were getting up). We drove across to my stepmother's house in Morgan Hill, and spent the day in the sun. My stepsister and her son drove down, and the boys all enjoyed the slip and slide, though none of them actually did any sliding. They mostly just sat and splashed.

Monday, Hubby, the boys and I drove over to Santa Cruz for the day, and had lunch on the pier, after watching the sea lions for a while. Hubby weaseled out of taking the boys on any rides at the boardwalk by telling Harrison he wasn't tall enough, though I wasn't really feeling up to riding on a roller coaster anyway (more on that below). Afterwards, we drove to the World Famous Mystery Spot. The boys and I had a great time, though Hubby was at his most skeptical. Still, fun was had, and we now have four beautiful Mystery Spot bumper stickers.

We picked lemons from the lemon tree in stepmom's front yard and made lemonade, and Monday night she made a lemon meringue pie which was delicious. I brought home a bag of lemons, and am almost tempted to attempt the pie myself, but am being too lazy.

Tuesday, we came home, and I've been feeling my "depression lite" since. I hate coming home from vacation. The house was fine. The dogs and cats were well-tended by the pet-sitter, as was Finn, the fish. Our, uh, beautiful Triops pet Harrison got for his birthday (well, he got lots of eggs, but only one hatched) was still alive. (It died yesterday, so our petsitter lucked out, as she was very worried about it dying on her watch.) I don't know. I just hate going from enjoying myself, having someone else do most of the cooking, to being back to the old grind. I'm sure others feel this way, too! I did lots of laundry yesterday. It was raining Tuesday when we got off the plane, was gray most of yesterday, and is raining again now. Blech. I've been feeling very slothful. My skin is broken out. I've been feeling "nausea lite" for two freaking weeks. Wait, longer than that. Three weeks. I'm sick of it. I went so far as to take a pregnancy test, but it was negative, and my not-so-faithful Aunt Flo arrived five days late, soon after the negative pregnancy test. That sort of explained the nausea, but then after AF came and went, the nausea stayed. It made the drives on winding California roads lots of fun. And was a reason I didn't insist on taking the boys on the carnival rides at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

I really want to go to a doctor, but need to find one. I usually get the most nauseated when I'm taking a shower in the morning, and afterwards, I'll occasionally get these weird spells, where I feel like my brain is completely gone. I can't think of words. It happened today after I showered, and Hutton came in the room, and I tried to tell him something, but couldn't. It's bizarre, and I don't know what to do about it. It only lasts about a minute, but that's long enough. But, considering I don't even have a doctor, that's makes it hard. I think I went to a general practitioner ten years ago, and see a gynecologist every year or so. If anyone knows any good open-minded, naturopathic leaning doctors in the Seattle area, let me know! Oh yeah, and they need to take insurance. As you other mothers may know, it's all about the kids. Especially when you have a child with autism. You spend all your time dealing with autism and trying different things to "heal" your child, and it's very easy to put your own problems on the back burner.

So, blech. That explains how I feel today.

Michael Savage is a Dirty So and So

2008-07-22T22:42:00.000-07:00

Read here for a very nice wrap-up, by the wonderful Kim Stagliano, of what I've spent way too many hours reading about over the past few days.

The quick run down (TL;DR): Michael Savage, who apparently is a radio shock jock who I, as a good liberal, had never heard of before last week, said on his show that autism is a fake diagnosis "99% of the time" and that if we parents just sat our little "brats" down and gave them some good old-fashioned discipline, they'd be fine!

Damn! I've wasted so much time with all this therapy hogwash! A good yelling and spanking were all Hutton needed! End sarcasm.

And the fraud thing: Yes, my autism parent friends and I have quite the racket going on. We meet monthly for dinner, not to relax and talk to like-minded parents who understand the stresses of raising children with autism and discuss new therapies and see what's working for each other's kids, but to find out new ways to defraud the government! I mean, gosh, we get sooo much free stuff from our golden ticket Autism diagnosis. Let's see...there's the early intervention preschool, provided you get a diagnosis early enough. Hutton went there for about a month, as he wasn't diagnosed until he was nearly 3. And then there's the special ed preschool, with busing (in the short buses, of course!) provided. And let's see...now Hutton is in elementary school, so we're not really getting anything we wouldn't get if he were typical. Oh, we get a couple of hours a week of speech and occupational therapy from the school, but that's it. Whew! Are all you parents of typical children totally jealous of this awesome racket we've got going? We also can get speech therapy outside of school, because we have good insurance. If you don't have good insurance, you're SOL. And, we have some of the ABA therapy covered, again because we have good insurance. But, we get to pay a lot out of pocket for what insurance doesn't cover.

Now, Savage claims he was just trying to draw attention to the fact that autism is overdiagnosed. Hmm. You know what? All of the kids in Hutton's class with autism diagnoses are just as "quirky" as he is, in different ways. My friends' kids, as well. I have never met a child who has an autism diagnosis that I've thought, "Wow, that kid is totally neurotypical! He's just a brat and his parents are bilking the system!" If I ever see a child with autism showing strong social skills, I don't think, "Fraud!" No, I think, "Wow! He must have been working really hard in school and with his parents and therapists to learn those skills! I wonder if they're trying a new therapy we should try, because I hope Hutton will someday have those skills." And, why in the world would you want your neurotypical child to be in a special ed class if he didn't need it? Does that really appeal to people? Oh boy! My child has autism! I can get him in those awesome overcrowded special ed classes now! I suppose it's possible, but I always thought parents pushed for their kids to be in the class that will challenge them, so they will learn more. Hey, that's how I will be when Harrison is in elementary school!

Anyway, go read Kim's article. I'm too tired to write more, and I need to shower! I played back to back soccer games, and probably don't smell very good.

Oh yeah, and I completely forgot about those pansies at Autism Speaks, who released a statement about how we need to pity poor Michael Savage. No, Autism Speaks, we need to let all of Michael Savage's sponsors know how we in the autism community feel, and that we will not support them if they support this ignorant clown.

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Click here for a good laugh. Well, if you find autism humor funny.

Harrison Quotes

2008-07-17T20:42:00.000-07:00

Right now, before bed, Harrison is telling me all the things he can do when he's big, a kick he's been on recently. "Play marble track." (He can do this now, as well as, "Eat grilled cheese!") "I'll have to use your computer. I'll make you coffee."

I don't know about using my computer, but I'm really looking forward to the coffee thing. I love that the boys are both big enough to do things like let the dogs in and out, or hand me the phone. Yes, I'm lazy.

And, a great Harrison quote from yesterday:

As I made the boys their breakfast (GFCF cereal with almond milk, so "making breakfast" is a stretch), I said, "Here are two bowls of cereal for my two beautiful boys!" Harrison said, "We're not too beautiful, Mommy. We're just a little beautiful."

I just had to write that down before I forgot it!

That Was a Long Bath!

2008-07-14T19:55:00.001-07:00

As Stacy pointed out, in her comment on my last post, in er, June, I had taken a mighty long bath. Yeah, er. I did take a long bath. It didn't actually last over a month, though. I did some other things, too!

Let's see. School ended. The boys and I flew to Orlando to meet up with Hubby, who was at a conference there, and the in-laws drove down. We spent a week at Disney World, which was fun, but tiring. The hotel pool was great, and after spending the morning and early afternoon at various parks, we'd head to the pool. Hutton didn't nap, but the rest of us took turns taking naps, or we wouldn't have survived! Back at home, it took my over six hours to upload all of my 300 pictures. And my MIL has another 500 or so from her and FIL's camera to send me. Whew!

The boys are now in swim lessons every morning for two weeks. I don't know if they're actually learning anything, but at least they both like going! Hubby finally finished our deck -- he started it last summer, and just had "finishing" work to do on it when he put all the tools away last September. Now, I just have to plant some things around the edges to cover the more "craptacular" areas, as Hubby called them. There's lots of scrap wood, too, that's taunting me, saying things like, "You really want to turn us into something, but you know that won't happen! Just suck it up and throw us away! You're not going to make planters! You're way to scared of power tools!" The scrap wood is right. Well, I have no fear of the power drill/screwdriver, but saws...nope, not happening. Hubby is probably done with all projects for the rest of time. Our washer and dryer were both acting up, so he had to fix those for me, too.

Let's see. What else has happened? Four of my college friends are or were pregnant this year. I am finishing the third knitted blanket, for unborn baby #3, and have a ring sling 90% finished for already born baby #2. (I finished one sling for baby #2 already, but for some reason, was feeling industrious at the fabric store. You know how that goes -- my eyes are bigger than the room on my ~~dining room~~ sewing table. We're having a baby shower in two weeks for baby #4, the same weekend most of us will get together for a wedding. Jen, no pressure to start getting pregnant immediately or anything! The wedding is in Aptos, CA, about an hour from my late father and stepmother's house, so the family and I will go visit with stepmom and stepsister and meet the stepnephew (is that even a word?) who was born just a few days after my last visit last summer.

Two of the baby-mamas have solicited me for vaccination advice, too, which is nice, that they actually look to me for advice. Apparently, they think my study habits have changed since college, and believe I've actually researched these things! Kidding! I have spent so many hours reading about vaccines in the past three years, I feel I should have a degree.

And speaking of vaccines, Amanda Peet, the, er, actress, recently said in "Cookie" magazine that parents who don't vaccinate their children are parasites. Aww! So sweet! Mandy did her research, see. Or rather, was reassured by Paul Offit. The same Paul Offit is a co-patent holder for RotaTeq, the rotavirus vaccine manufactured by Merck. Hmm, no conflict of interest there! Don't bother reading about the cons of vaccines, Mandy! We parents of vaccine-injured children, er, I mean, parasites, are all just crazies who didn't really see our children regress before our eyes after vaccines. Don't look behind the curtain.

It seems whenever I'm ready to move on, get past "the whole vaccine thing" something like this comes up. But, I think it has helped me. Today I grieved for a bit. Something I have kept bottled for a while, so it was good to get it out. I was lying in bed, thinking of all the signs Hutton showed me his first two years of life, clues that his vaccines were harming him, but I was too ignorant to see. New mom syndrome. Believe the doctor. First came the colic. In hindsight, I see it as food allergies to my milk, probably brought on by his first vaccines, at birth and at two months. If I had known then, I would have tried eliminating various things from my diet to see if it helped (most notably cow's milk, which Hutton still reacts to). But, I didn't. I trusted my doctor that colic was just "one of those things" that happens to some babies. Nothing much happened for a while. Then came the ear infections. Again, these were when I started introducing food into Hutton's diet, and were his way of saying, "hey slow down!" I didn't listen. Again, just one of those things some kids get. Of course, he also got more vaccines at the time.

The one that really haunts me though, is the appointment at 15 months. Hutton was due for shots at his "well baby checkup." But he wasn't really well at his appointment. He had an ear infection, plus eczema all over his face, thanks to the cow's milk he had started drinking because I'd just weaned him. It didn't take me long to figure out the cow's milk was the cause of the eczema, and eliminate it from his diet, but it took me longer to figure out that eczema is an autoimmune issue, and I never, in a gazillion years, should have let the pediatrician give Hutton his vaccines that day, when he was sick. But, again, I didn't know these things at the time, and apparently neither did Hutton's pediatrician, or at least, he didn't believe they could harm Hutton. I will give the guy the benefit of the doubt. I really hope he wouldn't knowingly give my child vaccines if he thought they'd harm him.

But, just googling "eczema" right now, the first page I clicked on mentioned halfway down: "Eczema is an auto-immune response to a perceived invader. And there is more and more evidence that food intolerance (as well as food allergy) effects the immune system. Gluten intolerance, Yeast and milk protein (casein) in particular are all strongly linked to auto-immune reactions like skin irritation." Today, Hutton is on a gluten- and milk-free diet and is taking yeast medications, as he's had chronic yeast since the antibiotics he took so many years ago for those ear infections. It makes me want to scream. I would, but Harrison is sitting next to me on the couch. I so wish I had not been so trusting and carefree, but had actually read some differing opinions. Ignorance is bliss. But what do I know? I'm just a parasite. Man, I'm hungry. My host needs to eat.

Still Here

2008-06-03T22:16:00.001-07:00

I'm still alive. I have lots of things I should be blogging about. Lots of pictures. Lots of....

Anyway, I'm tired. I need to take a bath. I just played soccer in the pouring -- yes, pouring, in that my shoes were filled with puddles and everything else was soaked -- rain, and did I mention I'm tired?

I'll try to post more tomorrow.

The Sasquatch Festival was wonderful. I'll blog about that. I'll blog about the kids. I'll blog about my plants. And other stuff I can't think about right now.

Time for that bath.

Interesting Updates

2008-05-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

Let's see. I survived my week of solo parenting. I had a meltdown (yes, me, not my three-year-old son or son with autism) Saturday night when Hutton woke up while I was attempting to give him his b12 shot. I'd stayed up too late, and then I really just wanted to go to bed, but had to wait for him to fall asleep. Definite Calgon moment.

Sunday morning, though, I had a breakthrough. I slept late (that's one definite plus to my boys - they actually let me sleep in on weekends, though Hutton will usually come in the room 5 or 6 times to ask what time we're going to have breakfast. Yeah, bad mommy!) and when I got downstairs, Old Fergus had peed on his dog bed. Instead of my normal reaction, cursing and yelling, I started humming an upbeat song as I cleaned up the dog bed, stuffed it in the washing machine (thank you front loader! Best appliance purchase ever!) and wiped pee of the floor. As I hummed, I thought, "I am not going to change the fact that Fergus is old and incontinent by yelling at him. He can't control it, and I slept late, so if I'm going to be mad at anyone, it's myself."

Just thinking that seemed to flip a switch in my head. I realized the obvious, but just saying it to myself made it seem so monumental. I can't control the actions of others, or change things like aging dogs with poor bladder control, or cure autism instantaneously, and my prayers to a god I don't really believe in have not been realized in miracle cures. So, that's life. But, I can control my own attitude. (Well, some of the time.) If I choose to get mad about the life I've been given, that won't change things. It won't make the autism disappear, or make Fergus young again. It will probably just shorten my life, as I swear I feel like my 34-year-old heart it going to give out when I get really angry. (Yes, I'm going to see a doctor and have him check my heart, because I'm paranoid. Well, it's on the list. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow, but it's with Hutton's DAN doctor, so that doesn't really count, I guess!) I've thought before that I should figure out how to control my anger, and learn to walk away, but I usually have to yell a bit first. And feel my heart race.

But Sunday, as I hummed a song that I just made up, I didn't feel my heart race. I didn't feel steam trying to escape from my ears. I just calmly cleaned up the dog pee and got on with life. Calm. No yelling. Not even any angry sighing. What a concept! Who would have thought that I, an adult, could control my own emotions? And, of course, it reminds me of my handy little travel mug my friend Jen gave me: the Don't Worry, Be Happy! cup. I have the perfect thing to hum the next time I end up staying up too late or have to clean up dog pee.

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Monday, the boys had "Tiny Tigers" class, their martial arts class. The first two classes, Hutton was not so good in the paying attention area, and anytime during stretches, his toes would end up in his mouth. The past two classes, however, he's done so well! He pays attention most of the time! He attempts the moves the instructor shows him! Last time he even answered when the instructor called roll! Wow!

Monday night, Hubby returned. Hallelujah! I let him give the boys their bath and put them to bed, after he prepared dinner. Aren't I nice to share like that?
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Tuesday was soccer day for all of us. First up: Lil' Kickers for Harrison. The Soccer Mom (the non-obnoxious one) I mentioned here told me she'd taken her son in for an evaluation at Kindering Center, the local early intervention center. She said they didn't have the results yet. I nodded, and felt nervous. I really don't want to hear her son has autism. It's possible his behavior is from being a normal, exuberant 3-year-old who hasn't learned enough English yet to follow directions. I hope that's the case. We'll see.

Hutton's soccer class was...eh. He was a bit better at listening this time (and he didn't put any cones on his head!) but was still quite spacey, and during the scrimmage at the end of the class, he didn't notice when the other team scored against him, twice, while he was standing in goal. Hmm. Maybe martial arts is more suited to him than team sports are.

My soccer game was short-playered, as usual. We had nine, but one player pulled a muscle soon after the game started, so we were down to our regular 8 on 11. The second half we forfeited in order to get the other team to loan us a player. That's fine -- we lose 3 - 0, but actually get to enjoy the second half. Our team motto is: We play for fun and exercise! It's a good motto to have when you win about one game a season. Of course, the games would be a lot more fun if we actually had a full team, but hey, with only eight players, you get a lot more exercise, as you can't sub out. Then again, I don't sprint as much, since I don't want to waste any precious energy. Eh.

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Wednesday's interesting update: While making dinner, Harrison and I were chatting with Hubby. (Hutton was playing upstairs.) I mentioned that Hutton had a doctor appointment today, and Hubby asked which doctor it was with. I told him our DAN! doc, and he asked if we should go to a neurologist. I just shrugged and said, "I don't think a neurologist has anything new to offer." Hubby then said something that made it all finally click. All the questions as to why he seems to have lost interest in helping with the big autism issues. He said....drum roll....
"I don't think Hutton has autism."

Well really, it went like this. He said first, "Doesn't he need another evaluation? He hasn't had a neurologist evaluate him in over three years."

I said, "Why does he need another evaluation? He still has autism." And that's why Hubby dropped the, "I don't think Hutton has autism," bomb.

Silence.... as I took in what he said. And thought, that explains so much. Then I asked the next big question. "What do you think he has then?"

"I think his problem is asphyxiation at birth. Being born blue."

"So, brain damage is Hutton's problem."

"Yes."

I nodded and thought about this. I think being born blue, with the cord around his neck, didn't do Hutton any favors. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have autism. I think the blue baby thing loaded the gun, and the Hep B shot he got less than 24 hours later, pulled the trigger and started the chain of reactions to follow that would further push him into the world of autism. The colic, the ear infections, the eczema, the food allergies we discovered that made sense of the colic, ear infections and eczema, and then, the big A. Was it the "well baby" checkup we went to, when Hutton had eczema on his face and an ear infection, yet he was still "well" enough to get all of his shots? I don't know. There was not a definite regression. It was just that Hutton did not gain any more words to the few he spoke, and preferred to sign "more" to learning more words.

Interesting. Hutton doesn't have autism, according to Hubby. And none of his teachers, or speech therapists, or ABA therapists have noticed this. Wouldn't people who deal with children with autism as their career notice something? No, sorry Hubby, but Hutton was diagnosed with autism at 2 1/2, and he still has it. Is there a difference in Hubby's mind between autism and say, mental retardation or developmental delays because of brain damage at birth? Does the label mean anything, really? Aren't we still going to try to do everything possible to help Hutton, whether he has brain damage or has autism?

I don't know. I did mention to Hubby if he thinks that Hutton's problems stem from his birth, we should look into HBOT (hyperbaric oxygen therapy). He didn't shake his head, at least. I'll have to see if my friend who has a hyperbaric chamber will let us try it out. You never know.

Off to get ready for the big doctor appointment! Anyone want to place bets on whether Hutton has yeast? 2 to 1 odds. Just kidding.

My Special Week

2008-05-03T00:39:00.000-07:00

This has been a rough week. Hubby went out of town (to Vegas of all places, on business, of course!) Sunday evening. He came home Thursday night. And left again Friday morning, before any of us woke up. He'll be back on Tuesday, I think.

My beloved, Sirius, my superautomatic espresso machine, developed a leak last week. Well, he's had a slight leak before, but it got worse last week. I started to despair. I called a repair shop, but decided I didn't really want to spend $175 and lose my machine for over a week to have him fixed. More despair. But, then I channeled my late father, the engineer (no, not the train kind), and opened up Sirius. I found the special screw drivers in Hubby's tool box, then found a diagram of Sirius's inner workings online, then figured out he had a loose tube. I fixed it, but he was still leaking. I realized one of his plastic valves was cracked and leaking. I put some duct tape on it, and ordered a metal replacement part.

Let's see, in the meantime, Hubby left town, and I realized how hard it is to be a single mom, for even a few days at a time. Monday was fine. It was the first day of solo parenting. The boys did great in their new martial arts class Monday afternoon. This was the third class. The first two classes, Hutton didn't listen well, and during any stretches, he'd end up with his toes in his mouth, chewing on his toenails. Yeah, that's fun to watch. (Harrison, on the other hand, stood petrified during the first class, but started participating during the second one.) But, this Monday Hutton actually listened and attempted to follow the instructor! I had used the "if you listen in class, and don't chew on your toenails, you can call Daddy!" bribe. It worked! Phew!

However, Tuesday, that didn't work. Hutton had soccer in the afternoon, and didn't listen at all. He spent most of the class putting a cone on his head, then at the end of class stepped on some plastic floor markers after the instructor asked him not to, and Mommy was losing it. He didn't get to call Daddy, and I was annoyed and ready to get away. Fortunately, I got the name of a babysitter from one of my soccer teammates, and she came on Tuesday night so I could go play soccer. The babysitter said the boys were hyper, but fine, and mentioned they both laughed about Hutton's soccer cone experience. Hmm. But, I have a new babysitter! Unfortunately, she's a high school senior, so it's a not a long-term solution.

Wednesday, my new espresso machine valve arrived. I put it on, but forgot to put on a new pin and after I got everything put back together, I ran the hot water on the machine, and a tube came off, spilling water in the machine and causing it to shut off (some ground fault interrupter thing). Grrr. I couldn't get the machine to turn on again (yep, it's gone from "Sirius" to "the machine." See what happens when you mess with me!) I was in despair again.

Thursday, I plugged Sirius in. He powered on! Hallelujah! However, the coffee beans I'd added the day before were preventing me from putting the lid back on correctly, and without the lid on, I couldn't actually make a cup of coffee, so I waited until after getting the boys to school before tackling that issue. I had to dump out the beans, and clean them out of all the little crevices when they spread all over when I tried to dump them out, then put the lid on, then he finally worked. Of course, there are still some issues I need to figure out. His grounds are awfully damp, instead of the nice solid pucks he used to put out. Yeah, it is something I need to fix.

Thursday afternoon, we went to my friend's house and had a nice time in the sun. The sun came out, which was wonderful, after our gray April. The boys and I then went to get a new fish. Finn (really Finn 2, but the boys don't know that) died when I was out of town in Philly, so we got a replacement fish. Harrison calls his Carp. I call him Glub-Glub.

Thursday night Hubby returned. Hallelujah! He brought me all the chocolates that had been left on the pillows of two beds in his hotel room in Vegas, as well as the lovely smelly soap he didn't use from the hotel. What a guy! But then he screwed me (cough, er, cough) by leaving again before dawn on Friday. He's off to see Warren Buffett, along with 25,000 other people. And I get the dentist appointment with both boys. Lucky me.

After the dentist fiasco, we headed to the UW for Hutton's ABA appointment. The boys had a "playdate" which ended with Playdoh. Guess who ate some, after I told him specifically, "Do not put your fingers in your mouth! DO NOT EAT THE PLAYDOH!" Sigh. So, I reiterated to the boys as we left yet another appointment with Mommy in a bad mood, that I really needed the boys to listen to me, as I was barely getting by, and I brought up again how their teeth would fall out because they wouldn't let the dentist look at them, etc. I finished the day by napping on the couch while the boys watched TV. Classic mothering skills on display this week. Then, I made the boys pasta for dinner, while I had potato chips and a chocolate Easter bunny. One nice thing about not having Hubby in town: I don't have to cook for him.

So, I have a whole weekend to keep the boys entertained. Wish me luck!

The Dentist. Sigh.

2008-05-03T00:26:00.000-07:00

The title pretty much sums this post up, but I'll elaborate.

I made an appointment for both of the boys to get their teeth cleaned. I thought I made it for Saturday morning (meaning tomorrow), but apparently I'd actually made it for today. So, after sleeping in, then taking a leisurely shower, I ran to get the phone at 10:05 a.m. It was the dentist's office. Were we on our way to the appointment? Uh. Crap.

The boys hadn't eaten breakfast yet, nor had I. They had had some strawberries they found in the fridge, but not real breakfast. Crap. I ran downstairs and made their breakfasts, then ran upstairs and got dressed. We ran out to the car and I sped to the dentist's office, only thirty minutes late! Go, Laura.

Hutton was first. The hygienist attempted to get x-rays of his teeth. Yeah, good luck with that. Hasn't happened yet, and didn't happen again today. Then, the cleaning. Two, yes, two teeth were polished. Then, Hutton started saying, "I want water." He didn't want the little tube, he wanted to drink from a cup. Then he wanted to use the bathroom. He kept grabbing the polishing wand, blah blah blah. Uh, let's try Harrison. He wouldn't get in the chair. The hygienist suggested he sit in my lap. Good idea! He's in my lap. But refuses to open his mouth. All the bribery of a new toothbrushes, balloons, and vending machine crap in the lobby didn't work. I left, dragging my children and their probably cavity-ridden teeth, behind me, and vowing next time their father would bring them.

A Different Kind of Soccer Mom

2008-04-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

This isn't about the traditional soccer mom, or even the non-competitive soccer mom, as I see myself. It's just about a mom who brought her son to Harrison's soccer class last week, and returned this week.

We were excited to see another child, Harrison and I. I was hoping she wouldn't be a camcorder-wielding crazy, which was fortunately the case. Unfortunately, her child was the one whose behavior had me worried.

I was worried because I saw AUTISM written all over the situation. The mom introduced herself in broken English (she's Chinese, and is still learning English, but did very well) and asked about Harrison and told me about her son, who is 3. She told me her son didn't really understand English, and that he'd been kicked out of the preschool class he was in. I watched him on the field, thinking at first, "Well, if he doesn't understand English, how can he be expected to participate in preschool? Why would they kick him out?" But as I watched him, I saw Hutton's behavior from three years ago. Not paying attention to the teacher or Harrison, or even looking at them when they talked. Running around instead of sitting in the middle when the teacher showed him how and where to sit. Not participating in any of the activities the teacher and Harrison did, but running around or throwing things instead, screaming randomly.

I started trying to talk to the mom about school, and mentioned that there are special preschools where her son could get speech help. I didn't want to come right out and tell her I thought her son had autism, but I mentioned Hutton and how he had attended a special preschool which offered him speech therapy. I found out where the mom lived, and unfortunately she is not in our school district, so I couldn't tell her, "Go here. Talk to this person. They'll help you." And since her son is three, the early intervention program won't cover him, though I did mention it and she wrote it down when I told her they would have some ideas of preschools for her son. I go her name and number, and figured I could ask other Autism mom friends where kids go for special education preschool in her district.

The situation is even harder because of the limited English the mom speaks, as well as my not knowing any Chinese. Wait, I know a few phrases I learned from my best friend in high school: Woo ya se fain (I'm hungry); Woo ya nuau-nuau (I need to pee); woo ya dabien (I need to poop). Yes, those are spelled incorrectly. And they're not exactly going to help me converse with this mother about her son's possible Autism diagnosis.

At the last class, I asked her about preschools, and she said her son is signed up next fall at a co-op preschool. She liked that it goes at the individual speed of each child, and I nodded, thinking that did sound good. She said they didn't recommend starting school in the middle of the term. I nodded, but thought, "Wow, five months without school." I reminded myself to call my friend who lives in the same town as the mom and find out about special education so maybe she can get help before summer. (I had called another friend, but she's not in the same school district, even though technically she lives in the same town. Confusing stuff.) And then I have a Chinese friend who lives in a different school district too, but at least speaks Chinese and can maybe talk to this mom about Autism and being new to the area.

During class, I noticed more autistic behaviors, and felt bad for the other mom when her son knocked Harrison down at one point. That's not something you normally feel when it's a neurotypical kid, believe me! ("Man, that kid just grabbed my child by the neck and pulled him down. That poor mother!") When you have a feeling Autism is involved, on the other hand, and you've been the mom apologizing for your child's behavior, it's much easier to put yourself in someone else's shoes. The mom had her son apologize to Harrison which was very nice. The class instructor seemed very frustrated with the situation, however.

Sigh. This very nice woman is new to the area, is still learning English, and has a three-year-old who very possibly has a life-long disability, and it's hard enough to figure out services when you are a life-long English speaker. At least she'll have good insurance, as her husband works for a certain large software company out here. We do have that in common!

The Ides of April

2008-04-19T11:16:00.000-07:00

Geez, is the month already half over? How did that happen?

I went to Philadelphia last Thursday to see my college girlfriends. The seven of us took over K's townhouse and kept her husband sufficiently annoyed, I'm sure. He stayed in his office on the third floor most of the time we were there. Also, since there was only one bathroom and all of us glorious women, three of whom were also gloriously pregnant, things got a little crazy, and I'm sure K's husband was rethinking saying yes to letting us all stay there!

We did stay, though. And baked. The first day, A made some lovely lemon cakes and buttercream frosting. JS and I frosted the cakes for our Friday afternoon baby shower activities. JS's was a ducky on blue frosting; mine was a frog (my favorite!) on pink frosting. Good stuff. We did iron-on onesies with some cool images D found and printed. Then we played some baby shower games that JD thought up, and they were sufficiently challenging, but not so much that the never pregnant among us (still two of them!) couldn't play, too. I won, because I'm awesome. Well, my teammates helped on the first game we won (a password type game involving baby words), but my second win, on the word scramble, was all me. The three pregnant ladies opened their gifts, then we took the beautiful singing plastic travel mug I won for my hard work in the baby shower games, and we walked to a coffee house nearby so I could annoy all in my surroundings with the mug. Really, it only plays just enough of the song ("Don't Worry, Be Happy!") to be barely annoying. The song is fitting, since JD sang in an a capella group in college. And it does cheer me up, because if nothing else, at least I don't have a landlord kicking me out of my home and I have a bed. (Seriously, if I were in the same situation as the person Bobby McFerrin is singing to, it would be a wonder I hadn't found a loaded gun already. But, then again, "when you worry, your face will frown, and that will bring everybody down!" Don't want that to happen! It's all about you, worrier, isn't it? How selfish of you to be frowning about not having any money, love, or a bed. You're bringing us happy people down!)

Anyway, after our coffee trip, we rested a bit, then got ready for dinner out. We walked to a tapas restaurant (visiting friends who live within walking distance of restaurants is always fun for those of us who live in the suburbs, or in sub-suburbs, in my case) and had a wonderful dinner and sangria. Well, the non-pregnant ones got sangria. The four of us were not very thoughtful in that we still drank even though our friends couldn't.

Saturday, we headed to the Philadelphia Art Museum in the minivan D rented for the weekend. Some of us ran to the top of the steps, ala Rocky. Then, we waited in a long line to get into the Frida Kahlo exhibit, which was very crowded, but still very much worthwhile.

I love seeing art in person that I've seen in books. Seeing "The Two Fridas" in front of me was amazing. I had never realized how big it was. The exhibit didn't include several of Kahlo's well-known works, and didn't have my favorite work of Frida's from the modern art class I took in college: What the Water Gave Me. It did have many works I had forgotten about that were wonderful to see, in that "Geez, that is sad!" sort of way, like The Broken Column and Henry Ford Hospital. (You'll have to Google those. I'm lazy and need to take a shower now!).

Off to shower. I'll post more later.
Saturday

I'm back. It's now Sunday. It's snowing. Big, giant, fluffy flakes. It's been snowing/sleeting off and on the past three days. I would have really loved this snow in November, December, January, heck, even February. It snowed a little in March. That was fine. But come on, Weather Gods! It's APRIL! April SHOWERS bring May flowers. Remember that little rhyme? It wasn't April SNOW showers. Come on! The boys and I are signed up to go on a little sailing day trip Thursday afternoon. When I signed up for the late April date last month I wasn't thinking it would be freezing cold. Well, it's not quite freezing, at the very least. The snow is slowly melting after it hits all my pretty green plants and new flowers. We'll see what survives.

So, back to my trip. Saturday afternoon we did the fabulous "Bachelorette Party" part of our weekend (the original sole purpose of getting together in spring to celebrate, until all the friends started getting knocked up!). JD opened gifts and played Madlibs -- yes, we still do that. There was a great catch-phrase we were saying all night from the Madlibs, but of course I forgot it. We also did the pre-wedding game of the Newlywed Game, which we've done with each bride-to-be since I married back in 1997. One of the friends calls the groom-to-be and asks assorted questions about the bride and their relationship, and then we ask the bride-to-be the questions in person. It's fun and you get to know more about the groom, which is nice, since most of us don't really know each others husbands as well as we know each other. After games, we went to dinner, and then had a lovely time in a private room at Fuji Mountain, a Japanese bar, where we sang Karaoke, or rather screamed it, as we were all hoarse after two hours of that. A room full of Japanese college kids joined us at one point, and weren't driven out by our singing, but actually said, "You guys are choosing great songs!" Ha. The highlight for me: Dueting to the super-cheesy "Never Been to Me" with K, and of course singing it the way K learned it, substituting the line "sipped champagne on a yacht" with "sipped champagne on a rock." I also got to sing "Take it to the Limit" as my four-year-old version, "Take it the Liver." See here for that. I just realized we forgot to sing Journey's "Open Arms." Damn! We did sing "Don't Stop Believing", though which rocked. And we actually knew the words since they were right in front of us.

Saturday upon returning to K's house, D showed me this great clip, which I drunk-emailed Hubby. He emailed back that he still prefers Yacht Rock. Yeah, I'll give him that.

Sunday we went to lunch, then all headed our separate ways. And this past week I had a slow recovery. I arrived home at 12:30 a.m. Monday, and wasn't too surprised to find the house messy. I was tired and jet-lagged and really didn't want to get back to normal life. Oh well!

Uh Oh! It's a Soccer Mom!

2008-04-03T15:14:00.000-07:00

Soccer Mom - n. a middle-class or upper middle-class white woman who drives her children to soccer practice in an SUV or minivan.

Hmm. I fit that description, right? Even better, I play soccer myself! I'm a soccer-playing soccer mom! Except I realized I'm not a real soccer mom. I mean, I now drive a station wagon instead of the SUV. And when I came across a real soccer mom, I hoped I didn't appear that way to others.

I came across the titular person the other day at Harrison's soccer practice. We walked in, and lo and behold, there was another boy standing on the field with Coach Mike. Yay! Harrison was excited, as he's been the only child in class this session, and he said he was sad about not having any of his "soccer friends" in class with him. Today there was another boy. This would be a great class!

Or so I thought. I walked over and sat down next to the other child's mother and said hi. I didn't introduce myself, as she had a small, hand-held video camera in hand, and I figured I didn't need to be caught on camera. She would yell out encouraging things to her child every so often. Ah. Cute. Or so I thought.

It wasn't so cute when the boys started doing warm-up drills, consisting of running to the wall and back. Soccer Mom called out encouragingly, "Run, Son of Mine, it's a race! Yay, you won!" I sat silently watching, just thinking, "Hmm. OK, lady. It's not really a race. They're doing warm-up drills." It continued while the boys did some side-skipping. "Go, Son, go! Yay! You won!" I wondered if the woman thought I should be yelling to Harrison, "Hurry up, slowpoke loser! You're LOSING THE RACE! You must win to ensure my love!" No, I didn't, but sitting next to her made me feel obligated to call out encouragement, too, when I would have preferred to sit quietly watching, you know, the THREE-YEAR-OLDS learning about soccer.

I took out my knitting, but was already thinking better of it when the Soccer Mom said, "Geez, I sound obnoxious, don't I?" I smiled politely, and replied, "Oh no! Not at all!" Then I quietly put my knitting back in my bag, stood up and walked over to a couch on the edge of the field where I could watch in peace, on a more comfortable surface, out of earshot of Soccer Mom. I called out encouragements to Harrison once in while about the over-the-head throw-in techniques they were working on, and when he kicked a very nice shot into the corner of the goal, and I didn't yell about Soccer Mom's ~~little pig~~ precious angel when he tried to wrestle with Harrison and was lying on top of him on the field. I mean, Harrison likes to wrestle, too, but he does it with Hutton at home, not during soccer practice. Did I mention my feelings of smug superiority whenever Soccer Mom's Precious Angel picked up and carried the ball and had to be reminded to use his feet, while Harrison dribbled the ball? Yeah, it looks like competitive soccer moms bring out the worst in me. I really, really, really hope that Soccer Mom and Precious Angel were only at practice because it's spring break, and that they won't be returning. We shall see.

~~~~~~~~~~~
The soccer mom thing is interesting to me, because it reminds me of what I might have become had Hutton not regressed into Autism. If Hutton were neurotypical, would I be videotaping him in soccer practice, yelling out to him to go, to win that race? I really can't say. I mean, I'm not that way with Harrison, but I might have been, had I not realized that life isn't all about making it to the wall fastest in a soccer drill.

I actually signed Hutton up for a spring soccer class, his first foray into sports since his diagnosis. We'll see how it goes when class starts in a few weeks. See, I am a soccer mom!

Jenny on Larry King Live

2008-04-03T13:55:00.001-07:00

Wow! Just wow.
(Here's a transcript of the show if you didn't see it.) That was wonderful to watch, though I felt my anger rising whenever two out of three pediatricians did any talking. Maybe you can pick out which ones I didn't like.

As I was watching, Harrison was talking loudly, and I had to rewind several times to listen again. At one point, I had to rewind to hear the amazing, "Bullshit!" one more time. You said it, Jenny! How many times have I yelled that at the doctors on TV shows like this? Thanks for taking the words out of my mouth (at home where they can't be heard) and giving me and other parents like me a voice!

As the show was ending, and I was reveling in my feelings of excitement about the truth finally getting heard, Hubby came in and said something snide, along the lines of, "Those poor doctors, they spend years in school, only to appear on a show alongside a former centerfold." He was attempting to be funny, but I immediately whipped my head around in a Jenny-inspired tirade. "At least she's doing something! She's getting the word out about Autism! No one listens to regular parents! Jenny knows more about Autism and vaccines than those stupid doctors do, and they chose to be on the show with her. If they can't handle the truth, they shouldn't be on the show!" I don't remember what exactly I said, but it was something like that, and there was steam coming out of my ears when I said it. Hubby was smart enough to not say anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~
Now, Hubby has his good qualities (I mean, I did choose to marry him and bear his children! I'd hope I could see his good qualities!) but on the Autism front, he's been less than supportive of late. Back when Hutton was diagnosed, four long years ago, Hubby was actually reading about Autism. He bought the books on it, and handed them along to me after he read them. I was glad he was doing the research, since he double majored in computer science and CHEMISTRY in college, and might actually make sense of the science involved. But then, it stopped. Hubby stopped reading the books, and seemed to give up on finding ways to help Hutton cope with Autism. Instead of perhaps, getting his younger sister, who happens to be a pediatrician, involved in the study for causes and therapies that might help, he gave up, and I became the parent who read everything I could on Autism, even when I don't understand the science most of the time. I don't want to be responsible for causing any family rifts, so I don't even bring up Autism with his sister. I'm weird that way. I also have never discussed it with my MD-PhD friend from college. I don't want to have a falling out with her, as I don't know which side of the issue she'd fall on.

Anyway...Hubby doesn't help on the biomedical front. He doesn't really help with anything Autism-related. He's a great dad, but I suppose he doesn't want to get his hopes up that Hutton will recover and have his hopes dashed if Hutton doesn't recover. I don't know. I'm OK with being the "Warrior Mom" who does all the work with Autism. With taking the poop samples (which, by the way I got FedExed yesterday! Yay Me! See Tuesday's post if you don't know what I'm talking about!). With getting Hutton to take all the supplements (this is almost, dare I say, easy now that Hutton can swallow pills! Yay Hutton!) And giving the B-12 shots every three days.

However, I do have issues when Hubby attempts to belittle my efforts or those of other Warrior Moms like Jenny. A month or so ago, Hubby said something about the many supplements Hutton takes, along the lines of saying to Hutton, "I don't know why your mother tries to get you to take all those vitamins. They don't do anything!" Steam shot out of my ears, but I simply did the "ignore Hubby for a long time" rather than yell at him in front of the kids. That sort of thing really pisses me off. Hubby may have lost his hope, but I have not. I will do everything in my power to help Hutton. If giving him B-12 shots in the middle of the night when he's asleep helps his verbal skills (and they appear to do just that) I will give them. If I have to sit beside him, holding a cardboard box under his bottom while he poops so I can take stool samples to check for yeast problems, I will do it. I'm not giving up, and that won't change.

April is Autism Awareness Month

2008-04-01T23:25:00.000-07:00

And I'm adding this little gem to my blog in honor of that!

Of course, around here, every day and every month I'm more than aware of Autism. My life practically revolves around it. It influences what I read, what I eat, what I watch (that's the only reason I can think of for watching a 2006 conference on Pediatric Bioethics regarding vaccines on cable earlier this evening!), what I spend way too much time researching online....

On the Autism front, I got a call on my cell phone this morning when I was watching Harrison's soccer practice (I'll be blogging about that later!). It was the school nurse. Hutton was complaining about his tummy hurting and he wasn't getting on well in class. So, I went to pick him up. I figured his "tummy" issues were related to...any of you Autism parents have a guess? That's right, CONSTIPATION!

This starts some real "Autism Awareness" for those of you not in the know about some of the ways Autism plays in the bodies of some of those affected. If you're not really interested in reading about poop and gut issues, here's a great place to stop! Wait, one more thing: watch Larry King Live tomorrow. It's an Autism show, since April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Constipation. Everyone's favorite in the gut issues game. Diarrhea gets all the good jokes, but constipation really is so much easier if you're going for gut issues. Well, maybe not "easy."

I have to get Hutton's stool and urine tested before his next doctor appointment anyway, and we need to go back before May so I can get a new script for B-12 shots, so I was ready for poop. I had been putting off the testing forever, but I knew Hutton was constipated, and needed to poop, and I needed the poop to send to the lab. I had the little poop containment device (just a cardboard box, really), the 4 vials to be filled with poop, the oh-so-important latex gloves...but no poop. I told Hutton to relax and we'd try again later. His tummy would feel better soon.

We ate lunch. I gave Hutton a laxative. We went to the bathroom for round 2. No poop. I told Hutton to try some grunting noises. That always does the trick, right? Nope.

Let's see. Found some suppositories. Read on the stool sample instructions NOT to give suppositories. Ahh, screw it. I told Hutton what was going to happen and did the deed. About five minutes later, back to the bathroom. And finally...poop. Ahh, relief for constipated boy and mother. Well, not really relief for me. I had to don the rubber glove and start taking samples of the poop. (I avoided the "sample area" touched by suppository so as not to mess up the lab test. And really, I never thought I'd be writing those words. Ever.) But then, I realized I am supposed to fill two vials from today's poop, and two more from tomorrow's poop. So, I have to make sure Hutton poops again tomorrow, and that I'm there to catch it in the other cardboard box. Wow! Is this sounding fun or what?! See, if he doesn't poop tomorrow, I'll have to get another test kit from the lab, because you have to FedEx your poop samples Monday through Wednesday, only. No poop from Thursday on. I really, really, really don't want to waste my, and Hutton's, hard work on today's sample. He must poop tomorrow. Oh yeah, and I have to get a morning urine sample, too. Sigh.

Many with Autism also have intestinal dysbiosis. Bacteria and yeast out of whack, poor digestion, food allergies, and the dreaded "leaky gut", or alternating constipation and diarrhea. Did you know that? I didn't, until I had a child with Autism. Now I know. I'm very, how you say, oh yeah, AWARE!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hutton is on a gluten, casein, corn, and egg free diet to help heal his gut, and he takes many supplements to help as well. However, he still has yeast overgrowth, I'm sure (one of the things we're testing for in the above mentioned sample), as it's a side effect of oral chelation. In the past, he had yeast from use of antibiotics to heal ear infections, before I learned the trick of using warm garlic oil drops or grapefruit seed extract (which is also helpful for killing yeast in the gut, go figure!) in the ear to help heal ear infections. Hutton's ears and "tummy" are the cause of the two times he's had to be picked up from school at the nurse's office, in his four years of school. (He's had to be picked up early from "normal" daycare places, a few times over the years, too, but that's always been for behavioral issues. We rarely use daycare anymore. He used to go the gym daycare a lot, pre-diagnosis, but now I just go to the gym when he's in school. I managed to get almost an hour of free daycare at Ikea this past winter before they paged me because Hutton was "ignoring them" and not following directions. I know, almost an hour! Wow! I didn't tell them he had Autism. A little experimental and it could have really blown up in my face, but still. I needed my almost hour of power.

Autism: The Musical

2008-03-26T15:40:00.000-07:00

I'm watching it now on HBO.com. To watch it yourself, free until Sunday on the website, click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's see. What's going on around here?

Easter was fun. The boys were excited when I came upstairs to get them Sunday morning and said, "I just saw a rabbit in the driveway! I think it was the Easter Bunny!" Then, they came downstairs to find their eggs. I put jelly beans in Harrison's eggs, and some awesome fruit snack gummi bears I found at Safeway that are corn syrup free(!!) in Hutton's eggs. (The gummi bears were mentioned on an autism list, and I bought two boxes. They're in the baby food section of Safeway, the Safeway O Organics brand, toddler fruit snacks. They look just like real gummi bears, and Hutton, whose diet is gluten, casein and corn-free, among other things, loved them!) I put their eggs in separate rooms so they wouldn't get the wrong ones.

After the boys found their eggs, Hutton went upstairs to tell Hubby that the "Easter Monster" came and put some eggs in the dining room. I don't have any idea where he got "Easter Monster" from, but Hubby and I found it amusing.

Today, there was a message in Hutton's notebook from school. Apparently, another boy in his class scratched him, and it started bleeding. He went to the nurse and got an icepack. Anyway, the teacher wrote that they thought Hutton was instigating things with the boy who scratched him. They were always having to tell Hutton to leave him alone, stop hitting him, etc., until they finally realized it was the other little boy who was poking Hutton first, and Hutton was retaliating, and then it escalated to the other boy scratching Hutton's neck. Thankfully, they moved the other boy so he won't be sitting next to Hutton any more. We'll see. I just think it's interesting that they thought it was Hutton doing the instigating. I saw the other little boy at a birthday party last week, and he was wrestling with another boy there a lot. It was playful and all, but I can see that Hutton would not want to deal with that. He and Harrison wrestle a bit, but Harrison always wants to keep going long after Hutton is feeling "touched out" and needs some space.

Off to watch the musical. Let's see how it compares to Cats. Just kidding.

Slipping Back to My Old Ways

2008-03-18T18:13:00.001-07:00

Yep, posting sporadically again!

We went to a party Saturday (the same friends who had the Halloween party I posted about here) for St. Patrick's Day. I had contacted a potential babysitter who seemed great. She'd worked with special needs kids before, was nearby, and sounded excited to watch Hutton at the party, and to watch both kids in the future. Yay!

Except...she never showed up. I'd emailed her Friday night before the party to remind her, but since the weekend before she was still on board, I didn't think there'd be a problem.

She didn't call to tell me she couldn't make it. She didn't call to explain afterwards why she didn't show. She didn't even email an excuse or apology.

Sigh. I miss my Stacy! Stacy is our former babysitter, and still sits for the boys when she's home over the summer and winter breaks. Stacy is a junior in college in Connecticut. Her mother lives about a mile from us. She's wonderful with the boys, and does all kinds of chores as well. One summer she organized our garage for us. Yes, amazing.

Anyway, the party was fun. The boys both watched a movie with the other kids (Underdog) and stayed entertained until 10 o'clock! Their normal bedtime is 9, so I was very impressed Hutton didn't ask me, "When are we going home? When are we taking a bath? When are we going to bed?" a hundred times. I talked to a women for a long time and really liked her, though of course, don't remember her name! We were sitting at the injury table -- she had her foot in a walking boot and I didn't wear my aircast, and because of that was limping in regular shoes. (I am tired of wearing running shoes all the time, since they're the only shoes that fit over my big honking aircast!) I don't know what the party hosts thought of our lack of sitter, but I actually enjoyed myself and didn't care. They had hired two babysitters anyway, and as I said, Hutton was fine. Maybe next time they invite us to a party they won't ask Hubby if we can bring our own sitter with us? Who knows. Either way, I need to find a reliable babysitter!

Goodbye, Thad

2008-03-11T11:51:00.000-07:00

Friday morning, our phone rang before I was up. Hubby was already up, and I checked the caller ID. It was one of Hubby's high school friends. I didn't really think about it, rolled over and went back to sleep. Hubby came in the room and took a shower. He got dressed. I sat up in bed and Hubby said, "M. called a little while ago. Thad died this morning."

Thad was one of Hubby's best friends in high school. He learned to fly planes before he could drive, and flew cross-country as a 15-year-old. He had worked as a pilot in his twenties, then had been working with his parents and wife as a financial planner and stock-broker. Thad and his wife had two children, a boy and a girl. Things didn't work out, and they divorced, but continued to work together.

Thad was a fun person, upbeat and adventurous. He loved boating, and we didn't get to see him when we were in Pensacola this past Christmas because he was boating to Key West with friends to celebrate New Year's. We spent lots of time with him when we lived in Hollywood, FL in the late 90s, when Hubby and I were newlyweds and Thad was a pilot and flew out of Miami a lot. He had a drinking problem, but it seemed like he'd gotten things back on track when he married and had children. We spent time with him and his family in 2004 when we rented a beach house in Pensacola for the month of August, and I cherish those memories.

Then, the divorce happened, and it seemed like Thad was partying a lot. I don't know the whole story of his death. No one really does, since Thad was the only one there, but it involved a gun. His obituary says it was a tragic accident. Accident or not, it was truly tragic.

I hope Thad will find peace now. And I wish his family and children peace as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the reason Hubby is out of town, and this week when I've lost patience with the boys, or got annoyed that our kitchen faucet broke (yes, these things have to happen when my live-in plumbing expert is out of town!) or that Hutton ate cat food for the second time in as many days...I remember why Hubby is out of town and it helps me put things in perspective. Cat food and broken faucets are nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Every time I've been in the car since Friday, I'll hear a song, and sad or not, it will make me think of Thad and cry. Strangely enough, I haven't heard any Neil Diamond, one of Thad's favorites. He gave me and Hubby a double CD of Neil Diamond Live once. We don't really listen to it, but I think I'll pull it out this afternoon, to remember Thad singing along with his big sunny smile.

I'm On a Roll

2008-03-08T14:25:00.000-08:00

Well, after only posting a few times the first two months of 2008, I seem to be on a blogging binge. The reason? Well, there's a lot going on! Also, Hubby went out of town this morning, so instead of going out for lunch and other Saturday family activities, I'm choosing to stay home. While the boys play, I'm getting caught up on "paperwork".

Let's see. This post will be about Autism. Or, a certain little boy I know and love with Autism. Or, two autistic behaviors Hutton performed today that annoyed me.

One: I had to go to the grocery store today with both boys, after dropping Hubby off at the airport. Hutton was upset about not getting home at 11 a.m. to play Madagascar. I'd told him we'd be home at 11 when he asked, "When are we going to play Madagascar?", but realized I had to get gas for the car, and I needed a few things from the grocery store. So, when we were in line at the grocery store, after only five minutes of shopping, which isn't normally a problem, he started melting down. First, there were the tears about going home to play Madagascar, followed quickly by the SCREAMING. Gotta love when your child screams in the grocery store. Especially when your child is 6 years old, and old enough to know better, according to all the dirty looks being thrown your way by everyone in the vicinity. I did the classic recovery technique: I covered Hutton's mouth with my hand while whisper- yelling in his ear, "We DON'T scream in the grocery store! Mommy has to get this done before we go home, and I'm sorry you're frustrated, but this is how the world is. Get over it!" I didn't go so far as to say something about Autism out loud, though if the screaming had continued, I might have. You know, the mumbled sort of explanation, "He has Autism. He can't help it!" The public screaming is my pet-peeve of Autism behaviors, and I'm clearly not cut out for dealing with it, as evidenced by my "fight yelling with more yelling (though of the whispered variety)" technique. Though, of course, screaming could just be a normal way for a boy to get out of doing something he doesn't like -- grocery shopping.

Two: After lunch, Hutton went upstairs while I was still downstairs with Harrison eating lunch. He came down a few minutes later, and sat down next to me. I gave him a hug, and my brain slowly picked up on a signal from my nose: the smell of cat food.

"Hutton, did you eat CAT FOOD?!!" He, of course, said, "No!" as I sniffed his hands and had him open his mouth, revealing the tell-tale aroma of Savory Blends. Sigh. I went over with him that cat food is for CATS and he isn't to eat it or handle it, that it has gluten and other things little boys shouldn't eat, etc. Then, I went over with him again (we'd done it in the car after the grocery store melt-down, as well) the proper behavior in public places: We don't yell in public places. It makes Mommy angry and frustrated. Blah blah blah.

Can I take a nap yet?

A Little More Faith in Politicians

2008-03-08T12:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the Washington State Senate passed the "Toxic Toys" bill, which essentially outlaws children's toys and products with toxic levels of chemicals and heavy metals. Read more about it here.

In addition, my State Senator, Eric Oemig attempted to amend the bill with a requirement that parents and pregnant women be notified of mercury in vaccines prior to their administration. Unfortunately, this amendment didn't make it to the final bill, but I am thrilled he attempted to add it! I already sent him my admiration-filled thank you note.

One real, er, think of your favorite synonym for Asshole, Senator Jim Honeyford, was among those who didn't vote for the bill, after amending it with the following: (From Washington Votes website)

* Amendment offered by Sen. Jim Honeyford, (R-Sunnyside)....to exempt tricycles from the definition of "children's product" under the bill.

* Amendment offered by Sen. Jim Honeyford...to exempt scooters from the definition of "children's product" under the bill.

He also added similar amendments for various guns, model rockets, and "athletic shoes with cleats or spikes". His amendments all made it intact. Now, I can see that guns and model rockets aren't necessarily children's products, but I still don't want my children to wear cleats that have lead in them. (I hadn't even thought about that, so now I'm going to have to get a test kit for my new soccer turf shoes! Damn. I really like those cleats, too! Hope they're lead-free!) Also, in what world is a child's scooter or tricycle not a children's product? No, I don't know any kids with scooters or trikes. Load 'em up with toxins, by all means! Grr.

Senator Honeyfucker, er, Honeyford also tried the fun "I melted down lead to make toy soldiers when I was a kid, and turned out fine!" approach. Uh, maybe, but we didn't know about the toxicity of lead and other heavy metals then. And I don't know how fine you turned out, if you don't know that a tricycle is a children's product. He complained about how he wouldn't have any gifts for his grandkids this Christmas when all the toys are banned. Hey, Senator, you didn't save those toy soldiers you made from melted lead? Those would be great toys for your grandkids! (Sorry, couldn't resist. I'm a bitch, you know!)

Another big thanks to the fine Senators (and the Representatives in the House who passed their version of the bill unanimously last month) who voted for this important bill!

A Chink in the Armor

2008-03-06T13:49:00.000-08:00

http://www.ageofautism.com/2008/03/larry-king-to-1.html

Larry King interviewed a family tonight. A family that consists of a neurologist father, attorney and nurse mother and a nine-year-old daughter who suffers a mitochondrial disorder with "autism like symptoms." The family was just awarded a settlement from the National Vaccine Injury Compensation fund.

As I was watching, I yelled at my TV several times, especially when all of the people interviewed, including the parents whose child regressed into Autism, oh wait, that's "autism like symptoms" (which for some reason, were enough to get Hutton diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder) all said how important vaccines are. Really? So, when vaccines may possibly cause autism, and did in the case of Hannah Poling, and Autism affects 1 in 150 children, everyone should just go right ahead and get all of those shots, and just hope their kids aren't one of the "special ones" to get Autism? No thanks. I'm done with vaccines until the medical and scientific community can figure out to make them so they don't cause harm. First, do no harm.

I also screamed at the TV when hearing for the umpteenth time how mercury/thimerosal was removed from childhood vaccines in 2001. GRRRR! No, it wasn't. It was in all of Hutton's vaccines (he was born in August 2001). It was phased out, not recalled There are still vaccines with the full amount of thimerosal floating around that were manufactured before the "phase out". And thimerosal is still in most flu shots, which are recommended for infants and pregnant woman, don't you know. Oh, and the other thimerosal free vaccines? They still have trace mercury. It's "removed" during manufacturing. So, they still have trace amounts of a potent neurotoxin, that bioaccumulates in the brains of many children, especially when they receive up to...well, I don't even want to count how many they receive. You can see it here. No, not all of those have thimerosal -- MMR uses live viruses, and can't have thimerosal, since it's used to kill things, and it would kill the viruses in the vaccine. Oh, and the fact that live viruses are injected into kids -- that's not a big problem either. Don't worry your pretty little head.

Anyway, even though listening to the spin on this big decision made me want to vomit, it still is a chink in the armor: the government settled a case, admitting that vaccines caused one child to regress into autism. I'm pretty sure she's not the only one.

Oh, and Ginger at Adventures in Autism has a great post about the spin going on. Read Spinning the Hannah Poling Case.

UPDATE: After watching the Poling family on Good Morning America, I felt much better. They said much more than they had a chance to on Larry King. Just stop watching as soon as the talking head/doctor comes on, because he just has more of the same vaccine BS.

That's Big Foot to You

2008-03-05T16:24:00.000-08:00

That's right. I'm going to Sasquatch! Well...maybe.

I bought tickets this morning, for Hubby's birthday gift this year. Whether we actually go will depend on the willingness of grandmothers to babysit. Hubby's mom has been up to babysit her baby granddaugher several times this year, so I feel she really can't say no to us. I mean, she OWES us. Right? Then again, I don't know if I really want to subject either grandmother to ~~babysitting~~ grandparenting for three days.

My dad and stepmother came up for a weekend to take care of Hutton when he was a young toddler, while Hubby and I went to a wedding in Hawaii. My stepmother told me last year that it was one of my late dad's fondest memories, as he felt he never got to spend a lot of time with his grandchildren when he was alive, as most of them live in Tennessee, and we're up in Washington. So, thinking of that, it tells me that either my mom or Hubby's mom should cherish the chance to watch my beautiful boys. Whether they agree or not remains to be seen. I can always tell them the above story and see if that guilts them into it.

Anyway, back to the big furry creature. Sasquatch is a wondrous music festival held at the beautiful Gorge Amphitheatre on the Columbia river. Here's a picture. It's beautiful at sunset, and did I mention who is playing this show? See this link and scroll down to the line-up.

Yep, they had me at R.E.M. and Modest Mouse, but read on. That's right. THE CURE. Death Cab for Cutie. Flight of the Conchords! ( See here for blogging on them.) I won't pretend to even know who half of the rest of these people are. I don't exactly get out to clubs anymore. I don't even have a reliable babysitter.

My love of R.E.M. may override my concern for my mother and MIL. In high school, I told my best friend that I was searching for a boy who would represent to me the essence of R.E.M. She probably gave me a look that said, "What the fuck are you talking about?" She reminded me that I said this a few years ago, and I smiled fondly. I may not have the same passion for R.E.M. as I did in the late 80s, but I really do want to see them in concert.

And then...Modest Mouse, and The Cure. Man, when I get my time machine finished and tell my 16-year-old self about this concert (first explaining that The Smiths broke up, alas, but Modest Mouse has Johnny Marr playing guitar for them) she'll say, "Wicked Awesome!" OK, that's not really true, as I don't think I was saying that in the late 80s, except in the ironic sense. My 16-year-old self would probably say something to try to prove how cool and smart she is, but just come across as a pretentious little geek. Really, I've changed so much in 18 years.

My point...I do have one...is that when I heard about the lineup of Sasquatch I lost my shit. Thankfully, not literally. I really wanted to go, then the realist in my head popped up and said, "Hey lady! You have two little boys! You can't just drop everything and go to a three day outdoor concert anymore." Damn realist, shut up! She continued: "Tickets are pretty expensive, too. Plus, you'll be several hours from home, and will have to camp out at the Gorge or stay in a hotel." Undeterred, I excitedly told Hubby about it last night, and though he wasn't as excited as I, he did seem interested, and even mentioned renting a camper to take. Yes, getting Hubby in a camper is quite the coup. He's not the crunchy outdoorsy type, so a tent is out of the question. A camper is a nice meeting-me-halfway thing.

Oh, and we could always take the boys, as it's an all-ages concert but that really (REALLY) is our last choice for a Shiny Happy Weekend.

So, we shall see. Wish me luck. I can always sell the tickets if things don't work out. Sob. I don't want to, but I can. Did I mention I really like R.E.M.?

My Town is Smokin'

2008-03-03T17:01:00.001-08:00

Well, part of it anyway. This happened here today. We're not anywhere near this development, which is several miles north of where we live, but it's still scary, as I can look at my window and see two "McMansions" being built up the street from our house. What's to stop these crazy bioterrorists from hitting those houses next?

The whole "Earth Liberation Front" idea is stupid. Guess what, ELFs? You're terrorists. Burning down houses to protest their being built doesn't solve anything. They'll just be re-built with the insurance money, and the amount of carbon monoxide you sent up by torching these homes, not to mention the natural materials wasted, which will just be replaced with more materials later, isn't contributing to saving the Earth in any way. It's destroying the Earth.

Sigh. Time to go do something constructive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm back. Hubby and I talked more about this, and he had an interesting theory. He pointed out that considering how long these homes have been on the market, (and how poor the housing market is now) it almost seems logical for the builders to have hired arsonists to set these homes on fire. They get the insurance money, and perhaps invest it in something a bit more practical than nearly two million dollar spec homes that aren't exactly selling. Hmm. Hubby is a bit more cynical than even I am!

I'm Not What You'd Call a Strong Blogger

2008-03-02T11:16:00.001-08:00

Yes, I realize it's been two weeks since I last added something here. I've also been bad about reading others' blogs. What can I say? I'm lazy!

I've been busy. Well, sort of. I've been doing lots of gardening lately, since the weather here has been beautiful the past few weeks -- lots of sun and warmth. Seeing green shoots popping up everywhere gets my thumbs itching -- you know, my somewhat green thumbs. I've planted two pear trees, an apple tree, a flowering cherry tree, two lilac shrubs, and two blueberry bushes, and lots of bulbs. I've also hacked down several small maple trees. These are like weeds around our yard -- vine maples sprout up every year, usually right under a big Douglas fir, and once they start getting bigger, it just doesn't suit my gardening aesthetics. If they're in the wooded area to the side or back of the house, I don't care, but if I can see them, I have to do something. So, using a bow saw, I saw, and saw, and saw, then saw some more, so I can get the wood into manageable lengths to throw on the wood pile.

I've told Hubby he needs to get out the chainsaw, to tackle a small dead fir tree in our front yard, that's just a bit too big for me to tackle with the bow saw, but he hasn't done so yet. (I'm way too fragile to handle a chainsaw. I value all of my limbs, even my still weak sprained ankle. I pride myself on being pretty strong, but I don't think chainsaws were designed for use by the average woman under 5'4".) He's also refused to get out the chipper, which I said would be handy for dealing with the many branches from my maple tree hacking. Say what? Yes, we have a chipper/shredder that we haven't used for several years, and yesterday I mentioned I would like to get it out to use in the yard, and Hubby said, "No, we're not going to do that. Just throw the stuff in the back yard." I don't get it. Why do we have this machine if I'm not allowed to use it? Did I mention it's a chipper SLASH shredder? That means I can shred up the millions of leaves I've raked into piles as well, to use as mulch or add to the compost bin. Yes, I'll be using BOTH functions of this magical machine! And it's not like Hubby will be out there sweating and getting dirty. No, that will be me. I just ask that he helps me get it out of the tight confines of our garage. Also, I don't like the big piles of woody debris, which is right behind the swing set. I slid on a piece of lumber getting some sticks into the pile last week, and landed on my ass. Fortunately, I've got lots of padding there, but I don't want one of our children climbing up on the pile when my back is turned and injuring themselves. Not to mention that rabid weasels may take up residence there. OK, that last part isn't likely.

Grr. I may get the chipper out by myself and if Hubby complains about it, I'll tell him I got it out to sell on Craigslist, since we're obviously not using it.

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I've thought of lots of posts about Autism of late, but haven't actually written them. Right now, I've got to go take a shower, so you'll have to wait a bit longer for my oh-so-insightful writings on the big A.

Oh, and after Kim's comment below, I found this for your (well, OK, MY) viewing pleasure. Click here.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2008-02-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

I'm currently lounging on the couch with my left foot up and my laptop in my lap. My left foot is up because I sprained my ankle Tuesday night playing soccer. I managed to very gracefully run into another player and got stepped on, flipping my foot under sideways with a lovely accompanying crunching sound. I didn't break anything at least, but have a pretty plastic aircast to wear for the next few days or weeks. At least I can hobble around without crutches today, and the swelling on the side of my ankle is down to golf ball size.

Yes, I'm going to be looking hot tonight when I throw on the Valentine's Day nightie and have a big plastic cast over the white knee sock on one foot. The nightie is my gift to Hubby. He doesn't like chocolate or cologne (which I figured out soon after our first Valentine's Day together. Those are the special gifts I bought him. His roommate very much appreciated them!) and doesn't wear jewelry other than his wedding band and a watch. I don't try to buy him electronics, as he knows what he likes and tends to buy those things for himself. So, he's getting a nightie. The plastic ankle cast is a pleasant extra.

Time to go get Harrison, then we'll head to Hutton's school for his Valentine's Day party, so I can keep him from eating all of the gluten and dairy-filled crap they're going to be serving.

Exciting Times

2008-02-12T13:30:00.000-08:00

I just got off the phone with Hubby. He never calls home during the day, unless he's going to be late. But, since it was only 1:45, that didn't seem likely. I answered and the first thing he said was, "Eddie Money is performing two shows at the Skagit Valley Casino!" He had to get up early this morning to go to a meeting in Seattle, and didn't get enough sleep, so I think he's feeling crazy and manic. I told him I wasn't sure we'd be able to get tickets, as I'm sure they're going quick, and he answered, "Whatever will be will be." Then he told me he's going to Arby's. Lucky guy! And yes, he was joking about wanting to see Eddie Money. See above about lack of sleep.

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What else to report? Yep, the blog title is in the ironic sense, as always. I took Harrison to his soccer class this morning. It's our new Tuesday routine, since he doesn't have school on Tuesdays. At his water break, he told me, "Soccer is hard!" I agreed with him and told him it takes lots of practice. They took team and individual pictures in their uniforms after class. Harrison's jersey comes to his knees, so looks like a nice soccer dress on him.

Afterwards, we went to lunch at a taco place, and they were playing amazing music. Stuff from the 70s that had my feet tapping the whole time. Not classic rock, though. The cheesy disco and pop hits. Like this, my fave song when I was four. Who am I kidding? I totally have to get this on my MP3 player, now. Seeing the musicians for the first time -- wow! That hair! Especially the drummer, at 3:19. And that vest! I'm getting flushed.

Came home and got Hutton from the bus, got his lunch and latest round of meds -- we're currently chelating with DMSA and ALA, and I'm doing it, too. We'll see if this helps my brain function better! Hutton's verbal skills seem to be improving steadily, but it's hard to tell, since I'm with him all the time.

Other than the DMSA and ALA, I'm doing anti-yeast therapy, thinking my excessive craving for chocolate at 10 every night might be out of my control, and actually the little beasts running my body. (Plus when you chelate, you tend to stir up yeast, as well. Toxic metals and yeast! Sounds fun, doesn't it? Don't be too jealous of my glamorous life.) Reminds me of the "Plankton!" episode of SpongeBob where Plankton takes over SpongeBob's mind, literally.

OK, I've provided you with a killer song to get stuck in your head. Time to go get some stuff done around the house. Is it too early for chocolate? But the yeast...must have chocolate!

Obligations, or Why I Need to Screen All Phone Calls

2008-02-08T12:22:00.000-08:00

I have this friend. I use the term loosely, as I only see her a couple of times a year. She's nice and all, but she's not someone I'm terribly close to. I met her in a local online group I joined years ago. This group would get together to exercise and do outdoor activities.

At the beginning, our little group would get together for hikes, bike rides, roller blading, snowshoeing, etc. Four of us trained for our first triathlon together, and two went on to do longer triathlons, but I was content to rest of my laurels and not have to run anything longer than a 10K, ever. (I really don't like running anymore, which I reinforce anytime I go to the gym and struggle to get myself to just do the elliptical for 25 minutes. I ran cross country and distance events in track in high school, so I think I got it out of my system then. I will grant you that it's great exercise, but I can't do the whole mind over matter thing anymore!)

This was the group that introduced me to my good friend Amy, who also has a son with Autism, born a month before Hutton. We got together two or three times a week when we were pregnant to do water aerobics at the local pool, then to eat lunch at a Chinese restaurant. After both of our sons were diagnosed, I thought a lot about our pool sessions and lunches, and wonder if they had something to do with it. The heavily chlorinated public pool? The possibly MSG-laced food? Who knows! Anything is possible. Of course, I also think my eight mercury-laden fillings had a lot to do with it, and Amy has a lot of tattoos, and who knows what is in those. Amy was the one who helped me figure out where to go to get a diagnosis, as the wait lists to just get a diagnosis were months long, and when you're trying to get started helping treat Autism, having to wait six months to just be told, "Yep, your son does have Autism. We don't have anything we can do about it. You can sign up for our ABA treatment, but there's a year-long wait for that. Buh-bye." Anyway, Amy found a neurologist in Tacoma, about an hour and half south of here, who didn't have a wait list and was willing to provide a piece of paper saying, "This child may or may not have Autism, but here's a piece of paper that says he does so he can get on some wait lists for treatment." Actually, the piece of paper got Hutton into the early intervention program and speech therapy, so that was nice to have as we waited on ABA treatment.

Back to my other friend. She joined this group a few years ago, when the group had moved to meeting mostly for social reasons a few times a year, rather than for exercise a few times a month. Yes, we've evolved. Every once in a while, someone new will join and realize we're not really an exercise group anymore. They either get annoyed and leave, and, as one person did, rate us as an abysmal exercise group when posting for the last time, or say, "Fine, I like social stuff. I'm in!" We email regularly, and keep up with each other's lives, and some of us do still exercise, but that's not really our focus anymore. So, this friend recently emailed all of us some information about this program she and her husband were involved in. It has something to do with "excellence" and I don't think it's in the Bill and Ted sense. Needless to say, I don't want to have anything to do with excellence. I'm fine with mediocrity. Really, I've come to terms with that. I'm 34, I have two kids, some pets, get on to blog about my life a couple of times a week, and make extra money mystery shopping. I don't think any of that needs to moved to the next level. I did all of my excellence in school, and by the time I got to college, I started focusing on procrastination, which led me to mediocrity.

I was fine ignoring the email, thinking, "No thanks. Delete." Then, it happened. The phone call. A week ago, on Super Bowl Sunday, The Friend called. Fortunately, our phone wasn't working for some reason, because if I had had to answer the phone during the game to listen to her talk about the Conference for Excellence or whatever it's called, I might have been pissed. (She's Canadian, which is why she thought it was OK to call a person on Super Bowl Sunday.) After the game, I went upstairs and noticed a voice mail message, then figured out our phone wasn't working. I listened to the voice mail. It sounded ominous: "Laura this is The Friend. Can you please call me?" What is going on? The Friend never calls me. We communicate solely by email. Something must have happened! I didn't even think about Excellence. I went out to the car to get my cell phone, and called her back.

She told me about The Conference. There was a free introductory session at a hotel downtown on Wednesday night. Amy was going. I wondered if Amy really wanted to go, or if she was suckered in out of niceness. Amy has more backbone than I, so she might have actually wanted to go. I listened politely, then came up with my ace, "That sounds good. I have to check my calendar to see when my book club meeting is. I'm out in the car right now, but I'll go check it later." The next couple of days, I wondered if I should lie about my book club meeting being the same night as the conference, or if I should actually go. I did the classic Laura: I lied. But hey, that was night of the Duke-Carolina game, and I'd much rather watch that on TV than go to some conference!

I thought I was free. And then...another phone call! This one even worse than a call on Super Bowl Sunday. She called at 9 a.m. this morning. Friday morning. The one weekday morning I get to sleep in, as the boys don't have school and will usually keep themselves entertained until at least 9:30 before they start demanding food. I answered in my sleepy voice, but apparently The Friend, who is a psychologist, doesn't know when she's woken someone up. We made small talk for a minute, then she told me about ANOTHER introductory session. How was Tuesday the xth? Phew! Soccer night! "Oh, no, that's my soccer night." Hallelujah! Saved by soccer. Wait, she's countering. "How's Wednesday the xth?" Damn! Damn! "Hold on. I have to go check my calendar." I walked into the office, trying not to audibly sigh to let her know how damn annoying this was, to be awakened by a phone call pertaining to something I have absolutely no interest in. I looked at my calendar. Nothing. I was thinking, "That's probably actually going to be a book club night, as they're usually the second Wednesday of the month, but I already used that excuse, and it was the first Wednesday of the month. Would she buy it?" Sigh. I said, "My calendar is free. That will work for me!" faking enthusiasm. The Friend asked if I wanted to meet her and Amy beforehand for dinner. Sure, sounds great. Then she sealed my doom: "I'm glad that you're interested in doing this, since it's something I'm very involved in!" or something like that.

I really don't know anything about this stuff, but I feel like I'm about to step into a pyramid scheme or religious cult or something. Oh well, I have a month and a half to come up with an excuse. I don't think I'll use appendicitis, since I still have my appendix, and if I lied about that, I would probably be stricken with real appendicitis on the night of the next introductory meeting.

Post #2 - My Night of TV

2008-02-03T11:10:00.000-08:00

Well, if you consider Sunday the first day of the week, I didn't post at least two times this week. However, if you consider Sunday the final day of the week, as I usually do -- you know, that day of rest and contemplation I take after a hard week of working nine to five, er, nevermind -- then this will be post number 2! And the first post for February!

How is it already February? I spent far too many hours in January sitting on my fattening butt (meaning, my butt is getting fatter, though I'm sure if a cannibal were to eat me, he'd find my gluteal cuts to be pretty well marbled). February hasn't been much different. I'm in the process of re-knitting the sweater I finished, as it was just too ugly to wear. I have two sleeves to reknit, as well as a few more inches of the lower torso. Sadly, I've had to knit in front of a TV that has offered very poor viewing of late. When I get into a knitting groove, I have to get to a good stopping point, and that often means I will watch anything on TV as I do so. Friday night, I watched the premiere of Eli Stone, which I had recorded Thursday night, followed by 20/20, the local news, Nightline, Jimmy Kimmel, and then finished off by watching an infomercial about the Collector's Edition of the Carol Burnett Show available on DVD. Yep, once I get to watching infomercials I know I've stayed up too late. And I really didn't have too much to show for my knitting, as I'd done a lot of frogging that night - ripping stitches from the sweater so I could re-knit it.

The TV started out well - Eli Stone is another lawyer show (wait, there are TV shows that focus on lawyers? Really?) but the central case on the premiere involved a woman suing a pharmaceutical company for causing her son's autism by having "Mercuritol" in its vaccines. Hmm. Nothing I recognize in that. Of course, the American Academy of Pediatrics had a kitten and forced ABC to post a note at the end of the show that the preceding was in fact, fiction, and that if you want information on autism, please go to the CDC website. Yep, the CDC has lots of ~~bullshit~~ good information on autism, I'm sure! I'll go check. Let's see, they have these choice quotes:

Entertainment-based television shows can be a source of education for viewers, but should not be a primary source for health and medical information. We understand this program may cause concern among parents, so we urge parents to speak with their child's physician or health care provider.

Extensive reviews of the scientific and medical evidence have concluded that recommended childhood vaccines do not cause autism or autism spectrum disorders. At CDC, we place a high priority on vaccine safety and the integrity and credibility of our vaccine safety research, and we are fully committed to the health and well-being of children.

I don't know about you, but if I saw something on TV on a fictional show the piqued my interest, I'd probably do more research on it, even before I spoke to my child's physician. Did you know that some things you hear on TV aren't true? Some things you read on the Internet aren't true either! Golly! Sometimes you have to think for yourself people! But this: they place a high priority on vaccine safety. So, is that why there's never been research into the effects of all of the current recommended vaccines on babies and young children? Vaccines are typically given together -- several vaccines at one time. Have they researched the safety of multiple vaccines given at the same time? Oh, I'm just sure they have. Sarcasm. And why most flu vaccines, which are recommended for babies and pregnant women, still contain mercury, a neurotoxin? And most other vaccines may still contain trace amounts of mercury? Oh, but I'm sure small amounts of mercury are just fine for those babies. I mean, sure pregnant women shouldn't eat tuna fish because of the mercury they might ingest, but mercury is perfectly safe when injected in small amounts. Right? Those other ingredients -- including aluminum and formaldehyde, aren't exactly my idea of healthy treats, either.

I found the show entertaining, but don't know if I'll become a regular viewer. Then again, it's not like there's a lot of other things to watch right now!

I have lots more to write, but will now go take a shower so we can go out to eat lunch without offending anyone with my greasy hair. I'll be back later.

~~~~~~~~~~

I'm back. We went to lunch, and now I'm watching the Super Bowl. I'm pulling for the Patriots, since I grew up in Massachusetts.

Back to my earlier talk. So, after watching Eli Stone, I watched 20/20, which was about Amanda Knox, an American student from the UW who was arrested for murder while studying abroad in Italy. She's currently in prison in Italy. Thinking about this, along with the latest in the Natalee Holloway case (a Dutch investigator taped Joran Van der Sloot confessing to her killing, though of course, Van der Sloot claims now he was lying) I am thinking if I had a daughter, I wouldn't let her travel in a foreign country without a trusted male chaperone. I traveled to Europe when I was a junior in college. I was on a program in London, but arrived a few weeks early to do some traveling. I flew to London, then took a ferry to Belgium, and traveled by train to Germany to visit friends. This was before the ubiquity of cell phones, and when I first arrived on the continent, I wasn't able to contact my mother by phone for several hours, then when I arrived in Berlin, my friends weren't where they were supposed to be and there was bit of craziness until we met up a few hours later. My mother knew about this because I phoned her asking if she'd heard from my friends. Needless to say, Mom was freaked. Did I mention I didn't even speak German? Ahh, good times. But, I wasn't murdered or accused of murder. And I realize thousands of American girls and young women manage to travel independently every day without dying or being imprisoned, but still, if I had a daughter...scratch that. I don't think I'll even let my sons travel alone if the day ever comes, unless they are third degree blackbelts and have good street smarts.

So, after 20/20, I watched the local news, which went on about Amanda Knox, since her family lives in the Seattle area, and about the huge amount of snow in the mountain passes, which sounds good for skiing, but is not, as it meant the main roads were closed for avalanche control. The ski mountain we usually go to didn't have any electricity yesterday, for that matter, so even though the roads were re-opened, you still couldn't ski.

Nightline was about an obese 4-year-old girl and her family. The girl weighs 105 pounds. Hutton, who is 6, weighs 42 pounds. Given, Hutton is a boy, and slim, but still. It seems obvious that this girl has some underlying medical issues, but her mother said they have had her tested and not come up with anything. When not demanding food, the daughter was throwing tantrums and yelling at her mother. It was hard to watch. It showed the mom grocery shopping with her daughter, and filling the cart with things like Top Ramen. Man, that sent chills up my spine. If nothing else, this family should try a diet of NO processed foods, and cutting the sugar. I know it's hard. My boys eat too many "healthy" junk snacks - granola bars and fruit leather are faves, but they're still just sugar to the body. I have been wanting to change our diet to more of a cave man style - meats and veggies, no processed foods, grains or dairy. I think the boys and I would greatly benefit from it, but it means pretty much no eating out, no "easy" dinners on those nights I don't feel like cooking -- wait, do I ever feel like cooking? -- and most importantly, the end of my latte habit. Right now, Hutton is gluten, casein, corn and egg free. The corn is the real hard thing to eliminate, as corn syrup is in so much, but it is possible. I hope the family on Nightline can come up with some solutions so their daughter can grow to be a healthy adult.

Jimmy Kimmel - Not much I remember, other than the Sarah Silverman video here, which I found quite amusing.

As for the Carol Burnett infomercial? I don't really remember her show from childhood, though I think I was usually playing with toys while the reruns provided background noise. I do remember and have always liked the Went With The Wind sketch - Carol as Scarlett O'Hara with the dress made from drapes, complete with curtain rod. The infomercial didn't get me to order the DVD, though. So, I'm not that desperate for entertainment, yet. Sure, I'll watch an infomercial at 1 a.m., but those are free!

I'm Still Here

2008-01-30T09:59:00.000-08:00

Hutton and Harrison posing with Mommy. Actually, that's the snowman we made.
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For those of you wondering about my absences of late, I'm still here. I've been a poor blogger this month -- both reading and writing.

Some excuses: My desktop computer died, and I had to get Hubby to get my laptop to work for me in the meantime. (A few years ago, when Hubby started working from home, he had to turn in his old work laptop, and just commandeered mine -- which I didn't use much, but still, it was a gift from my MIL! --to go along with the other three computers he has on his desk. After he started back at a big software company here, he got a new work laptop, but still kept mine. I finally asked for it back, and he gave it to me, but without any way to access the Internet. Uh, thanks, Honey. I don't use the Internet at all! So, when my desktop stopped working, I asked Hubby if I could access the Internet on my laptop, and Hubby set it up so my laptop will hook up to our wireless network again.) Hubby got my laptop working, then, after about a week, he fixed my desktop! Wahoo! I was functioning OK with the laptop, but it took a long time to get used to the keyboard, as I am accustomed to the weird rounded ergonomic one at my desk, and I didn't have access to my Outlook calendar and email contacts on the laptop. I could check email online, but I still felt I was going to forget some world-changing appointment without access to Outlook. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Phew! But now, I have my laptop downstairs, so I can lounge on the couch looking things up online while the boys watch too much TV, and go upstairs to check email and do serious typing on my desktop. Ah, technology, I love you!

Second excuse: School, or the lack thereof. Last week was Martin Luther King, Jr. day, which I think is a very important holiday to remember. But, it means three days of school for Hutton versus four. Plus, this Monday, there was a teachers' only day at Hutton's school, and it snowed three inches here in addition, so Harrison didn't have school, either. Tuesday school was delayed because of lingering snow, so again, no school for Hutton as morning Kindergarten was canceled, and Harrison doesn't have school on Tuesdays. I don't know why, but just missing two hours of time to myself for a couple of days is enough to throw off my internal workings somehow. Plus, Hutton's home therapist couldn't make it Monday because of the snow (yes, we live in Washington state, where they don't believe in plowing roads or using salt -- at least not in the western half of that state -- in the event of snow. The world grinds to a halt. I still got out on the roads Monday and was fine. If nothing else, there wasn't any traffic, but I was worried about being hit by a driver who wasn't used to driving in snow.) Today, the therapist is sick and can't make it.

The problem with this lack of school and therapy is that I'm not exactly using our time wisely. Sure, we got Hutton's homework done, and played outside in the snow Monday, and went to the library Tuesday, but the rest of the time has been squandered in front of the TV. What's that, boys? You want to watch a fifteenth hour of Sponge Bob? Sure! No, I'm not even pushing the educational TV on them! The boys, to their credit, did manage to play together for some non-TV related activity. I got a package Monday that came in a gigantic box, filled with various packing materials that entertained the boys for several hours.

Anyway, I'm back, and I'm going to try to be better about posting more of this banal crap on at least a twice weekly basis, as well as reading all of your blogs, my blogging friends!

Oh, but I have accomplished a few things this month! I almost finished knitting a sweater, which is frumpy looking as it is too big in the torso, but fits everywhere else. Hmm. I'm sure I can reknit the torso section, but I think it will involve math skills. I'm not good with sweater math: "Using the larger needles, pick up 198 stitches along the upper yoke." Hmm, there are 223 stitches there now. How do I turn 223 into 198, while spacing the stitches evenly around? Agh! My brain hurts! So, if I do decide to reknit the torso, it will probably mean the sweater will not be ready until next year. But, I think the frumpiness is beyond the realm of blocking. (Blocking is when you wash the knit item, then leave it out to dry so that it will dry in the shape you want it to be. It's much easier to block a wool sweater to fit, as it will shrink or stretch a bit, but I don't think cotton/acrylic blends do that very well.)

And, I took the boys skiing for a second time last Friday. Hutton had a lesson with Outdoors for All, which does outdoor activities with kids and adults with disabilities. He had two instructors work with him for an hour, and the main instructor told me afterward that Hutton was great at following directions and had good balance. Who knew? So, having someone else teach him is definitely easier. Harrison didn't have as much fun. He got cold, fell on the "magic carpet" lift, got colder still, and ended his hour of skiing crying and fussing. Oh well, one kid had fun! Hutton was smiling afterward and told me he liked going fast. So, we'll have to see if I can convince Harrison to give skiing another try, and get him a personal instructor as well, instead of impatient Mommy.
Some exciting video of Sally running in the snow. Turn the volume off if you don't want to hear my loud, annoying voice.

Plastic Strips on Your Feet + Snow = Skiing?

2008-01-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

Things are going better around here. Yesterday, we took the boys skiing for the first time. They were both very excited to go when I told them about it Thursday, but Hutton wasn't quite as enthusiastic Thursday night after we'd been in the ski rental place in town for an hour. Finally, we had the boys' skis, boots and helmets and were ready to go for Friday morning. We got up early and headed out Friday morning, and the boys got excited when we started seeing snow and mountains.

Things got whinier once we parked and started getting the boys in their layers and helmets. We decided to rent a locker at the lodge, so we wouldn't have to walk in ski boots too far. If you've ever worn ski boots, you'll understand that these boots are definitely not meant for walking, and making children walk in them for long distances, when they have never even skied before, seems like a good way to turn them off of skiing.

We got to the lodge, Hubby stood in line for lift tickets and I went to buy some new waterproof gloves, since mine seem to have disappeared in the five years or so since I last skied. So, buying those in addition to the clothes I bought the boys, the equipment rental, and the tickets, reinforced the fact that skiing is very expensive. We then found a locker and put our walking boots in, and got into our ski boots, and clomped back outside to get our skis and hit the slopes.

We went to the slope by the "magic carpet" - the ski "lift" that is essentially a conveyor belt to bring the skiers back to the top of the slope. I use "top" and "slope" in the loosest sense of the words. Think of a 5 degree slope, and you're getting the idea of the steepness we're working on. Then, we got the boys into their skis and starting skiing.

Or not. Skiing would not really describe what we spent most of the day doing. The first few runs, Hubby and I took turns, swapping boys on each run. I "skied" with Harrison between my legs, holding him up by his jacket, while Hubby did the same with Hutton, then we swapped. After a few times of this, I was sweating and ready to lose some layers. Hubby stole some tips from the ski instructors working with the kids on the slopes, and we introduced the boys to the "french fry" and "pizza" positions. A couple more runs, and I was hot and had exhausted both my muscles and my patience. It was time for lunch.

As we sat at a table inside recharging, I told Hubby I had no patience and would never be a teacher or a ski instructor. He nodded. Then, we headed out again. I worked with Hutton a bit, and though I won't say he was a natural, he was figuring out his balance and only falling when he was going too fast and wasn't listening to my screams of, "Pizza! Pizza!" as I tried to ski in front of him to stop him. Fortunately, on a 5 degree slope, it's hard to go too fast. Then, I swapped with Hubby and sat on the side of the slope for a while with Harrison, who was tired of skiing and preferred to sit and eat snow. That was actually pretty enjoyable, as it was a beautiful sunny day, though my butt got cold after a little while, even with the four layers of pants I was wearing. I offered to take the boys for a snack while Hubby skied a real run, but he said he was tired, and didn't take the hint and offer the same for me. We swapped boys again, and Hutton and I did two more runs, while Hubby and Harrison finished one more run. Then, we finished up our day at 2:30.

Not exactly like the "old days" when Hubby and I skied together, before kids, when we'd ski all day, or all weekend, several times during the ski season. Back in those days, we'd been on ski trips to places in Utah, Colorado, California, Oregon, Montana and British Columbia, in addition to the Washington ski resorts. As I mentioned above, we hadn't skied in several years since our kids were born, so just getting outside in the snow was a start. Hopefully the boys will gain some skiing skills and like skiing as much as their parents do. The resort we went to didn't offer lessons for 3-year-olds, and I signed Hutton up for a private lesson through a special program that caters to skiers with disabilities, including autism, but they are busy and probably won't have an opening for a while. I think having a "real" instructor teach the boys will help a lot though. At least someone with some patience.

This morning, I asked Hutton how you slow down when you're skiing. He smiled and said, "Pizza!" I asked him how you go fast. Another big Hutton smile and "I go fast with the French fries!" Ahh, I love this kid!

Autism Is Getting Me Down

2008-01-14T12:44:00.000-08:00

I'm fuming right now. I made the mistake of reading Hutton's notebook from school. I didn't even think that he didn't call home today, so it came as a surprise when I read about his bad behavior. He gets to call home when he earns nine checks for good behavior, and generally, I can tell if he's had a good day, since he'll get to call home. Sometimes they are doing to many other things and don't have time to call. Either way, I had forgotten about it until I read the notebook.

"Hutton did not get to call today. He had eight out of nine checks, until he ripped a page out of library book. Then he filled a toy with hand sanitizer."

!%O(E^)(E&^)(*$)))!%*^%

I left Hutton at the kitchen counter with his lunch, telling me to "stop talking" after I angrily told him I was sick of his bad behavior, ripping library books (I had to replace one in September as well) and treating things badly. (The boys managed to break one of the handheld game consoles they received for Christmas - don't know who broke it, but the screen is cracked.) I just told Hutton, who came upstairs having finished his lunch to leave the room as I'm still angry at him.

Sigh. I hate having to vent about my son's behavior.

Friday, he had a really bad session with his ABA consultant. Great. We drive 40 minutes to get to the University of Washington, I pay $11 to park (it's cheaper if you pay cash, but of course I never have cash), and then things go steadily downhill when Hutton asks to put fresh batteries in the farm toy at the consultant's office. I tell him to make his own animal sounds. No go. I explain that even if we had fresh batteries for the toy, we don't have a screwdriver to change the batteries. That doesn't seem to matter to Hutton. As far as he is concerned, a toy with non-working batteries is the end of the world. He became upset, and couldn't accomplish anything. He finally completed one worksheet, with two words of text (black dog) which he was supposed to trace, then write on his own, but he insisted on getting help and cried nearly the whole time. So, needless to say, he didn't earn his nine checks to call Go-Go (my mother) in his hour and a half therapy session. At least his consultant got to see some of his worst behavior, so she knows what his home therapist is up against some days.

Sigh. So, I'm not having a good day now.

Hubby had wanted to take the boys skiing on Friday, but right now I don't want to deal with that. It seems like a big reward for Hutton's bad behavior. I guess I should focus on catching him in good behavior. I'll see if we can get them signed up for a lesson Friday, just in case. Who knows, Hutton might have a good week after all.

It's a New Year...And a Whole New Laura!

2008-01-09T15:15:00.000-08:00

OK, the first part is true, but the last is not. Same old Laura. I've been bitten by the New Year Organizational bug, though, which is why I haven't posted since last year. Har har. I always loved that "last year" joke. Said to best friend across the street on New Year's Eve every year: "See you next year!"

The wonderful Kim was kind enough to check in with me and see if I was OK. I didn't fall off the earth (it is flat, isn't it? I'm still not sure, like Sherri Shepherd)> No, I'm still here. We went to Nashville, TN and Pensacola, FL for Christmas and New Year's, and came back home last week, over-loaded with twice as much stuff as when we left. Oh, the joys of gifts. (I had typed "jobs of gifts" accidentally, which seems pretty accurate, when you think about it!)

Since our return, Hutton has been making sure that every toy he owns has "fresh batteries," and walks around with the phillips head screwdriver to try to change the batteries if they're not-so-fresh. Fortunately, we own lots of rechargeable batteries.

I have, as I mentioned earlier, been busy trying to make my home less of a cluttered cesspool. I've de-Christmased our home, cleaned out the fridge and refilled it with food, exchanged Christmas gifts, washed about a dozen loads of laundry, moved furniture around...you get the idea of my excitement filled new year! On the other hand, my evil old dog, Fergus, has been doing his best to make sure the carpets are still freshly peed on. I swear this dog must have decided a good new year's resolution is: Do my best to be euthanized very quickly in 2008. No, I'm not there yet, but the dog has peed in our house every day since our return, and it's usually just a few minutes after I gave him the chance to go outside to pee. Currently, he's in a crate in the garage, but he's been sleeping in the laundry room (the better to be close to the urine soaked towels in the wash, I suppose!). At night, he's been acting like a crazy old man, shaking and panting. Well, I guess that panting is more of a crazy old dog thing. I don't know how much longer we'll have with old Ferg, but every time he pees in my house (or even in the garage, which happened today when I came home and let the dogs out) I seem to be a bit more hardened to his death. Don't get me wrong, I love this dog, and will be sad when he dies, but as I soak up pee, I don't ever think, "Gosh, I love this dog!"

So that is what I've been doing. Nothing exactly blog-worthy. I did want to blog when we were at the in-laws for five very long days, to vent a bit, but I just did some "mental blogging", which made me feel a bit better. Better that than having to try to explain to my extremely nice mother-in-law why I was bitching about everything when she accidentally stumbles upon my blog someday!

Some Thoughts on Another Exciting Morning...

2007-12-19T10:58:00.001-08:00

...In the Life of Laura

This morning started out relatively well. If you take morning at its literal sense, I started it in a tub of cold water (which had been quite hot at 11 pm, but strangely enough, not so hot at 1 am) with a book. It's a library book that is due at the end of the month, when we won't be in town, and I don't know if I should wound my former reader pride by renewing it at the library. (I won the flippin' "Who Read the Most Books This Year" contest in sixth grade! It was a blow out. Come on, Laura! You can't even read one stinkin' book in a month?) But, the book is long, and I'm finally at the middle and the action is picking up. It's one of those books that spends far too many pages dealing with lots of navel gazing characters, and you don't really know if you like any of them, or care enough to read about them for over 400 pages. But, now, since I'm over 200 pages in, I have to finish. I really hate not finishing books after I've invested at least a chapter, let alone 200 pages. Now, Moby Dick is another case all together. Try as I might, I can't get into that bad boy. I've picked it up three times, and managed to make it about 100 pages last time. Maybe some day. I think the only reason I really want to read it is because it's mentioned in the awesome movie Heathers and it's where my home away from home, Starbucks, got its name.

Anyway, this morning, Hutton came in at 8:30 to wake me the first time, asking for "breastfast" (that's how he pronounces it, which is funny, because I used to call it that when the boys were breastfeeding) then about every ten minutes after until I finally got up. Before my final waking, I had a dream that I moved into an apartment that had an amazing view of the downtown Seattle skyline, yet also a great view of the Statue of Liberty, which for some reason, was in a little black cove of water in Lake Washington. I was sharing this apartment with two roommates I don't know in real life, but was thinking, wow, this will really make it faster getting to Hutton's ABA appointments at the UW. The roommates morphed into two of my college roommates at one point. The apartment (or was it a condo?) had cathedral ceilings, and one of my roommates had hung piles of books from the ceiling. I asked her how she did it in the dream, but she never told me. Did she rent scaffolding to get up there? I remember looking up and seeing a book with an artist rendering of some wild animal on the cover, and really wanting to read it, and wondering how Eva got it all the way up on those beams, and how they stayed without falling, as some were not even resting on beams. In the last part of the dream, I was going back to my car to get something. I had realized I hadn't locked the door, and, jeez, I'd even left the window open, and when I got there, sure enough, a man was leaning into the front seat, and his friend, or accomplice waiting by the car. In my dream, I became a crazy woman protecting her things, and I ran up and grabbed the man by the throat, even though I was thinking, "This is stupid. This guy or his friend could have a gun." But, as dreams often do, it worked, and I was able to get the guy out of my car, without his stealing my things. Strangely enough, I don't think I'll ever attempt that in real life if two big men are ever really stealing things from my car. I do have impressive "guns" but I don't think I could really grab a man by the throat. My dream self is quite the bad ass!

I finally got up and went downstairs. The pleasant surprise of the morning: Fergus had not peed on the rug at the bottom of the stairs. Well, he couldn't pee there unless he'd jumped the baby gate, which is now keeping him in the laundry room at night. He is not quite as skilled at jumping as he was as a younger dog -- just a few years ago, he'd have cleared a baby gate with no problems. He also hadn't soiled his doggy diaper or dog bed. Yippee! I was feeling better about leaving the dogs here with a petsitter for our trip. If Fergus can go overnight without having an accident, things are looking up! Of course, my love and pride in Fergus, due to his old dog bladder pulling through, were short-lived. Fergus came back into the house a few minutes later with some sort of animal poop on his muzzle, and as I scrubbed off his face with a baby wipe, I realized it was all over his feet as well. He'd been doing some snacking in the cat litter pile outside. After giving him a bath and cursing him out (don't worry - he's deaf now and could only guess that I was pissed at him by the way I sprayed him down with the bathtub sprayer in such an angry manner) I felt a little less angry, and still glad that he hadn't peed in the house last night. Plus, I felt guilty for having let the thought pass through my mind that I wouldn't have to do this much longer.

Then, finally, breakfast. And now, as I type this, still in my pajamas, I realize I have to shower and go to the grocery store, and Hutton's ABA home therapist arrives in an hour and a half. Hmm, I can probably wait on the grocery store. I only need hot dogs (still!) and snacks for our trip. I have a huge zit forming between my eyebrows I have to tackle with the arsenal of products I keep on hand for such occasions, and that will probably take all the time before the therapist arrives. I love going home for the holidays with zits. It makes me feel like I'm in college again!

I'm Still Alive

2007-12-17T17:49:00.000-08:00

My cold is officially gone. Yippee! I spent lots of time snoozing on the couch the past week while the boys watched too much TV. Oh well. It's Christmas time! What better time to spoil your children with lack of parenting, right?

Hutton has had ups and downs. Friday, he had a perfect ABA session. Today, not so much. He didn't earn all of his checks (on his chart) and was very upset, then started saying he needed medicine and ate something he shouldn't have. Hmm. I couldn't get him to tell me what he ate that he shouldn't have, though.

Harrison has managed to use the potty instead of his pants today. Yeah! Fergus, the dog, used the rug at the bottom of the stairs instead of going outside, this morning. Booo! I bought him a diaper wrap for dogs, but he managed to wriggle his male dog parts out enough so that he could pee freely on the rug. Oh well. I think we'll need to invest in some new throw rugs in 2008.

We have our big trip to Nashville on Friday. Our first flight this year with the boys. It's a four and a half hour direct flight. Hope the DVDs work their magic! The boys are very excited to see Gogo (my mom). Next week, we'll drive to Pensacola, FL from Nashville to see Hubby's family. Eight hours in the car. Hmm. Again, hope the DVDs work their magic! The boys received some giftcards from my great-aunt and uncle last week that we used to purchase a bunch of DVDs, so we shall see.

Not much else to report. It's raining and cold. I don't feel like cooking. I will be using the out of town trip as an excuse to avoid cooking this week. Oh, I don't want to go to the grocery store and have food left in the fridge. Except...crap! We're out of hot dogs! There goes my fave lazy mother dinner -- gluten and casein free hot dogs for the boys, frozen pizza for me and hubby. Yeah, I'm super mom!

I Have a Cold. Whine, Whine, Whine.

2007-12-11T11:34:00.000-08:00

Waaa! Poor me! I am stuffed up of sinus and tired from not sleeping well. I kept an ear out to listen for our old dog, Fergus, needing to go out during the night, and when I was able to sleep, I'd wake up to have to go wipe my nose and go between being sweaty and freezing.

Fergus is 14 and a half. He's been having lots of accidents the past few days, and I'm wondering if I should humiliate him in his old age by making him wear diapers. I mean, it's not as if our carpeting isn't beyond help anyway. What's a few hundred more pee stains to clean? Yesterday I washed two throw rugs, then when those were all fresh and clean, Harrison called out about his socks being wet, and I found another wet spot in the carpet upstairs. Then another a couple of hours later. This morning, at least, Fergus managed to pee in the middle of the wood floor, and didn't get any on the newly washed rug. Amazing! It's not as if I don't let Fergus out several times a day. It's possible he's just lazy and doesn't want to go out in the cold. Sigh. Between that and the "potty trained" Harrison ("No, I don't need to use the bathroom!" Ten minutes later: "No, I didn't pee in my pants. Oh, wait, I did.") I've been doing lots of laundry.

Yawn. Time to go get some more coffee. Or maybe I should be good and drink something hydrating. Hmm. If I can park the boys in front of the TV after lunch, I may be able to take a nap. Still, I have to actually make it to lunch. Decisions, decisions.

The Christmas Card Photo Shoot

2007-12-07T22:26:00.000-08:00

This evening, I started a fire in the fireplace. Hutton has been asking me to "turn on the fireplace" all week, so I finally complied. Of course, we don't have a handy gas fireplace, that can be started with the flip of a switch. Nope, our involves all the campfire skills I never had. I got a fire going for a short time, and now our house smells like the interior of a wood stove. That's OK, though! Hutton enjoyed the fire!

So, as the fire was going, I thought, "Hmm, this would be a cute picture for the Christmas cards, since I haven't gotten around to taking any yet." I ran and grabbed my camera, handed the boys their stockings, and starting clicking away.

Twenty minutes, a hundred pictures, and numerous mumbled curses at the slowness of my camera's shutter speed later, I sat down to pick a picture. Lots of blurry shots, a few dark ones, and several bad shots were deleted immediately. The rest I slowly went through, saving ones I liked or thought were funny, then going through twice more, further culling the stack.

Now, I present you the select few pictures I thought were funny or cute, and the select one I will use for my card. (Click on a picture for a larger version, complete with oh-so-witty captioning.)

Oh, and for my eagle-eyed readers, you will notice that Hutton's stocking is, indeed, the stocking featured in the Land's End catalog from this post. Now, did my BFF get a good deal on that one a few years ago because Hutton's name was already on it? I kid!

You Heard It Here First

2007-12-02T11:17:00.001-08:00

Continuing with my weird dream theme, the other night I dreamt that I called Burger King to give them an order. That's bizarre for many reasons, including: 1. One doesn't call in orders to fast food restaurants, since the food is ready in, and only edible for, a few minutes. 2. I haven't been in a Burger King in at least five years. 3. Fast food restaurants in general are not something easily pulled off in my world of gluten and casein-free eating. Though I could eat there when I'm by myself, I don't usually go for fast food at 9:30 a.m. (when my child-free time usually starts, after dropping Harrison off at school), though I was intrigued by the ad for the new breakfast burrito at McDonald's. Nah, I'll just stick with my latte or mocha breakfast.*

Anyway, I head to Burger King to get my food, and there's some confusion about where my order is, and they have to re-make it. In the meantime, I ask for their flight menu, and sit down to compare the prices between Burger King and McDonald's for airplane flights. Yes, that's right. In my dream, both Burger King and McDonald's, in addition to their fast food, now offer flights. I don't know if they go internationally yet, but I'm sure they're looking into it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* The latte or mocha breakfast -- Sirius, the espresso machine, is acting squirrelly again. The coffee grounds, which the machine deposits into a little container after brewing, have been wet and crumbly, instead of dry and puck-like. As many parents of kids with Autism know, you can tell a lot about what's going on in a child, or machine, by looking at the state of the waste. There have been a lot of water drips inside Sirius, as well. I'm hoping that after I decalcify Sirius, things will work well again. I ordered the decalcification tablets online, and hope they arrive soon!

Other than that, our microwave is working again, for the low price of $300 (labor only - the parts were under warranty!). I have the Christmas decorations out, and it snowed yesterday, so it's looking festive around here.

Matt-Dreamy

2007-11-29T10:19:00.001-08:00

The following events really happened. In my head, that is. I had a dream last night the featured my blogger friend, Matt-Man, of Bag Wine Ruminations. Sorry, Matt-Man, it wasn't that kind of dream. It was a normal, er, weird one.

I was sitting down at a table in a restaurant. My stepsister walked in and we chatted for a minute. Her husband was due to arrive in a few minutes with their baby. Next, Matt-Man walked in and sat down. It was odd to see these two people together, as they have only one thing in common - me. (My dream brain worked on it and figured out we must have been in Seattle, and the reason Matt-Man was in town was to visit Allie, and he'd driven up to meet me, too.) So, I introduce my stepsister to Matt-Man, and my sister walks in and sits down. More introductions. Next to show at the bizarro family dinner? My grandmother. Who died in 2000. Hmm. For some reason, this works in the dream, but I'm not concerned about the fact that my grandmother died seven years ago, but that she'll start asking Matt-Man about his earring and ask questions about how I know him and find out about my blog. That doesn't have a chance to happen, though, because an attractive Asian couple sits down at the other end of the table. I have no idea who either of them is, but the rest of the table seems to know them. The lady puts a bottle of medication on the table and announces that she won't be able to drink with dinner because of her medication, for her brain hemorrhaging. At that point, I wake up.

I have no idea what any of that means, other than I don't want my deceased grandmother reading my blog. So, B'er (yeah, it's our strange family name for her, pronounced Bee-uh), please respect my privacy! Unless you want to start your own blog. In that case, I'll add you to the list on the side there, and we can be blog-buddies.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Actually, I had dinner at my BFF's house yesterday, and we were talking about blogs, including her brother's, which I read. He had a weird post about mind reading. We also talked about these dolls BFF is into. I can't really make fun, since I have a gazillion (yes, literally!) Fisher Price Little People toys. BFF was telling me about the different face molds available for these dolls, and how lots of people liked to get the Asian face mold with blue eyes, which I thought was weird, but that's probably why the Asian couple showed up in the dream. But they had brown eyes, not blue.

The Autism Ups and Downs

2007-11-27T11:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning, Hutton came and crawled into bed with me and Hubby when it was still dark out. I didn't really mind, though I knew I wouldn't get much sleep, as Hutton tends to wriggle and talk if he comes up to snuggle. A little while later, I heard Harrison coming upstairs. Hutton sat up in bed, and said, "Harrison's awake! Hutton's going to go play with Harrison!" And he did just that.

Now, apart from the use of third person, much like Sesame Street's Elmo, this was an amazing sentence to hear from Hutton. These longer sentences (and even ones using the first person - I!- are becoming much more common, and I love to hear them. I feel great, thinking, "Wow, maybe we're finally getting...there."

There - the magical place. Where is there? Is it full recovery? Or is it halfway to recovery? Just a little bit better? I don't know. Just being on the road to recovery might be enough.

Or so I thought.

This morning, as I put Hutton on the bus to school, the bus driver said, "Hutton's been having a rough time at school. The teachers thought it might be from the Thanksgiving excitement, or switching schedules around. But he had a tough day yesterday, too." I felt my upbeat attitude sinking into a pit in my chest, as I muttered, "Yeah, it never ends."

I got off the bus and headed home to get Harrison, who had stayed home to finish breakfast with Hubby. I thought about the possibility of homeschooling Hutton. Would it help? He wouldn't have the peer interaction of school, but he and Harrison play well together, and Hutton loves to have playdates with friends. I figured that wasn't really an option, as I'd probably just go crazy trying to homeschool my children. I can't even function normally on days they go to school.

A few minutes later, as Harrison and I drove down the street to run errands, we saw a big yellow school bus turning the corner. "There's Hutton's bus!" Harrison called out.

"No, that's not Hutton's bus. He rides on the short bus," I said, watching the bus of elementary school kids round the corner, looking at the little faces looking back at me. Will Hutton ever get off the short bus? Get to ride the big bus? Are we even on the same road the big bus runs on?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UP-Date (emphasis on UP)

Hutton's teacher just called. I felt my heart stop, wondering what horrible thing had happened at school. Then she said, "Hutton has had a great day at school, and he earned enough checks to call you!" Back story: At his parent-teacher conference two weeks ago, I gave Hutton's teachers the token sheet we use for his home therapy. If he earns enough checks on his chart for good behaviors like sitting quietly when asked, following instructions, etc., he gets to work for something of his choice. At home, he likes to call people on the phone as his reward. So, he earned his checks at school and wanted to call me! I told him I was glad he was having a good day at school and earning checks, and then Harrison said hi to Hutton as well. We're back to the up/positive position on the Autism meter. Let's hope it continues!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just in case you schadenfreudists are down, thinking everything is going too well, don't worry. The gods of small appliances are still fighting me. The microwave repairman is due sometime between 1 and 5 today, and charges $79 off the bat, and that's before he figures out what's wrong with the microwave. (You know, the microwave that is the top part of our microwave/convection oven combo, that can't be cheaply replaced, though we did buy a cheap microwave to fill in until our built-in one is repaired.) And...and...the appliance ill that cuts me to the core...SIRIUS is acting up. Sirius, the espresso machine, has started pumping out coffee-colored water in place of coffee the past two days. I've cleaned the machine, tried new beans, made about ten cups of brown hot water, and searched online for advice, but am at a loss. I really don't need to spend more money having my espresso machine repaired. Sigh. At least I got some mochas this morning doing my secret shopping.

Trendy Name?

2007-11-20T14:53:00.000-08:00

I named my beautiful son, Hutton, after my late grandmother. Hutton was her middle name, as well as her father's (my great-grandfather's) middle name. I liked the name because it was classic yet not too old-fashioned, nor was it a popular name, that would be very common among classmates.

Sometimes people will mishear it as Hunter or Hunton (or maybe they think we named him, "Huntin'?" How's that for a good Southern redneck name?!), but that's OK.

Today, I happened to see an advertisement email from Land's End, the mail order catalog, and opened it to see if there were any good Christmas gifts. I saw this:

Check out the top right corner. Yeah, we've got a bag just like that in Hutton's closet, a gift from my mother-in-law a few years ago! Come to think of it, the stocking in the middle is also one we own, with Hutton's name written on it. Hmm....

Turning the Corner

2007-11-19T15:28:00.000-08:00

OK, I've officially turned the corner. The bad crap is officially over. I refuse to let anything else break in my home, and when it does, I will NOT get upset.

Yesterday afternoon, after we returned home from getting new tires on my car, as well as a new, working microwave to use until our old one is repaired (we wouldn't bother spending the money to repair it, except our microwave and convection oven are one combined unit, built-in in our kitchen, so replacing the whole thing would be too expensive!), one of our garage doors broke. Now, the garage door opener broke last month, and Hubby replaced it with two new ones (the previous owners of our home had rigged the garage doors so they were hooked together and used one opener, but Hubby returned it to a normal state - two doors, no connection, two openers) and everything was going well. Then, the spring on the door broke. So, after an afternoon spent spending money we don't have to spend to replace broken stuff, Hubby went to Home Depot to buy a new garage door spring. As he was fixing the door, I checked in on him, and he suddenly started throwing an adult tantrum. Yeah, I do that myself, so I can't blame him. He'd dropped a bolt, and it bounced off the toolbox, and disappeared into the pit of our garage. Was it under the plastic shelving unit, hiding in some pine needles and dog hair dust bunnies? Or did it bounce over under that pile of muddy shoes? Who knows! Hubby announced he was finished fixing broken shit that weekend, and stormed upstairs to play Halo. Fine with me. I was tired of fixing shit, too! I left my car, with the purty new tires, parked outside, and cleaned up the garage a bit.

This morning everything went well. The boys were up early and dressed themselves. We got Harrison dropped off at school, then Hutton accompanied me to get some coffee. We went to Value Village looking for a cheap bookshelf, which they didn't have, but they did have a very cool sandbox for $20, so we bought that. It's a combination sand/water table with a cover, and it has legs and a drain. Hutton was very excited to have a sandbox just like his friend Amy's. Then, we went to the grocery store and got a nice little turkey and some other Thanksgiving grub. I'm over my Thanksgiving funk, too, and I'm actually excited to make cranberry sauce, stuffing and sweet potatoes on Thursday. We'll cook the turkey in our grill, like we did last year, and I'm sure it will turn out well!

This afternoon, Harrison pooped on the potty. Yippee! I'm going to go make rice crispy treats now.

Still in the Midst of My Existential Crisis

2007-11-17T13:22:00.001-08:00

Well, it's mostly the day to day crap -- literal and figurative -- still getting me down.

Yesterday was actually pretty good. I got my tires all inflated without blowing myself up. Hutton had a school conference that didn't go too badly. I didn't find the missing lug nut key from my car, though. It wasn't in my car or in the parking lot of Fred Meyer on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning when I checked. Hubby came home from his trip last night in time to see the boys before bedtime.

Today is back to the crap. Hubby double-checked for the missing lug nut key. (My car wheels have a "special" anti-theft lug nut, which needs a special tool to remove it. You know, because my tires are always getting stolen when I'm running errands in the 'burbs. Anyway, the special tool got lost in the hubbub of my tire change the other day. It's possible the man who helped me change it put it in his pocket, or left it on the curb, etc. Who knows.) It's gone though, and Hubby was nice enough to point out when I asked if he had any luck finding it, "No, but I'm sure it will only cost $200 to replace it." Yes, Hubby, I always need to feel worse about my screw-ups.

So, he left to go get a new tool from the car dealership, and asked me to call for service to our microwave while he was gone. I just did that. They'll be out Tuesday, Nov. 27th sometime between 1 and 5, and will charge us $79.99 for the service call, not including what it costs to actually fix the microwave. Did I mention how much I love cooking the old-fashioned way? No? Wait, I don't like cooking the old-fashioned way. I don't like cooking at all, in fact. I just miss being able to heat up my coffee without running the risk of shattering my favorite mugs, or being able to get Hutton's special nitrate/nitrite free hotdogs cooked that much faster at lunch time. I don't feel like cooking for Thanksgiving as it is. This just cements it for me. I don't enjoy celebrating Thanksgiving with just immediate family. It doesn't feel like a real holiday to me unless there are other guests in the house. I love my kids and Hubby (sometimes), but don't really want to bust my butt all day making a meal that only two of us will possibly enjoy.

Sigh.

Hutton slid on the bathroom rug yesterday and hit his eye on the corner of the bathroom vanity, and now has a cut and partial black eye. At least that happened after his school conference, and since he doesn't have school next week, hopefully it will be healed before he goes back. Hopeful, yeah, that's me. Full of optimism and cheer.

Life Is Shit

2007-11-15T14:18:00.000-08:00

Well, you'd think that after Tuesday's sad post, I'd be thinking, "Life is beautiful. I must live life to its fullest, enjoy every moment I've been given." Nu-uh. I'm doing some self-centered dwelling on my own problems.

Today started with my car getting a flat tire. Luckily, I was able to drive to the parking lot of a store nearby. I attempted to change the tire. The lug nuts wouldn't budge, even when I was standing, then jumping up and down on the lug wrench. Of course, my cell phone wasn't in my car, so I got Hutton, who didn't have school today, out of the car and went in the store to try to call Hubby. I only had a quarter, and the pay phone cost fifty cents. I had a calling card, so tried that. No go. Apparently the calling card was expired. Got change for a dollar, and called again. Voice mail. Went back to the car, and danced on the lug wrench again. Nothing. Back to phone, left message for Hubby with the number of the pay phone at the store. A man saw me and had seen my issue outside, and asked if he could help. Yes, please!

He got the lug nuts loosened, by standing on the wrench himself, and apparently the extra 50 pounds or so did the trick. He even got the fancy anti-theft lug nut off, and the car jacked up. The tire wouldn't come off. I turned the steering wheel a few times, trying to straighten the wheel, and the car fell off the jack. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and the falling car apparently loosened the tire enough that it was able to come off. The nice man changed my tire for me, and I got the flat tire and tools thrown back in the car and thanked him profusely, then drove home. Left another message for Hubby that someone helped change my tire, and asked where I should get a new tire, as my old one had a hole on the side and wasn't repairable. I picked up Harrison, and Hubby called back. He was on his way to the airport, and sorry he missed my call. I'd forgotten about his overnight business trip. He told me the full size spare would be fine until this weekend, just to fill it with air.

I went home again to use our air compressor to add air to the spare tire. I then scared the crap out of myself when the air compressor stopped, and I pulled a random lever, and it suddenly blasted a bunch of air out and started again. I decided not to fill the other three tires, since I couldn't decipher the PSI information inside the gas tank and I'd already caused my heart to stop once with the air compressor already. I didn't want to blow myself up, leaving the boys and pets without food until Friday night, when Hubby comes home. I put the jack and other tools back in the trunk, but realized the special anti-theft lug nut removal tool was missing. Great.

I went upstairs to do some online research on tire PSI and where to find a replacement lug nut tool, when I heard Harrison crying downstairs. I went downstairs to find Harrison standing in his room, pantsless, with a circle of liquid poop around him. Much like the air compressor, steam blasted out of my ears at that point. I picked up Harrison and deposited him in the bathtub, where I sprayed him off, then told him to stay put while I surveyed the damage. Apparently, Harrison had made it to the bathroom, took off his pants, but still managed to poop in his underwear. Then, instead of finishing on the potty, he ran to his room, trying to hold everything in while he got some new underwear. Guess that didn't work. I deduced this from the trail of poop from the bathroom.

Oh yeah, our dishwasher door is cracked, from a few weeks back. I ordered a spare part and replaced that, so it runs, but it still needs a new liner. Plus, our microwave stopped working this past weekend. These are both lovely GE appliances from our kitchen remodel seven years ago. (My Dad worked for GE in the 70s, doing something with industrial batteries. I have it in my head that his working with toxic materials in the 70s is part of the reason he got cancer and died at age 58.) Bad things seems to happen in cycles for me. Can this cycle please end now? My theme song always returns to this one.
W
hich brings me to another song I heard today, shortly before my tire went flat. I was thinking about this song as I drove to get Harrison with the spare tire on. I don't know if I believe in reincarnation or not, but I think I must have been a child molester, murderer or rapist in a past life. Maybe all three. That's the only way to account for the really crappy spells in life. In my next life I'd like to be a happy bunny rabbit, or a butterfly, or something nice like that. Of course, I'd probably be eaten by a predator right off the bat. Siiiiiggghhhh. Serenity now! Back to PSI research. And perhaps another trip to the Fred Meyer parking lot to see if I can find the lug nut tool attachment.

Goodbye, Carmen

2007-11-13T12:15:00.001-08:00

My blog friend, Carmen, of Good Times and Boxed Whine, passed away last month from complications of scleroderma. She was on a list for a lung transplant, and dreaming of a second chance at life, without needing to cart around an oxygen tank. She was only 34 years old, the age I am now, feeling young and somewhat invincible until I thought, "Hmm, I haven't read Carmen's blog in a while. Think I'll head over and see how she's doing."

As I read the blog posts at the end of October, I started to cry and said aloud, "I'm so sorry Carmen! I miss you!" I felt so sad for Carmen and her family, and guilty for being a bad blog friend and not having visited her blog recently.

Carmen leaves behind a husband and son, Dominic. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers, and go over to read some of Carmen's blog and see what a wonderful, positive, thoughtful person she was. The song that plays as you enter, Time of Your Life, is very fitting.

Sink Your Teeth into This

2007-11-10T22:42:00.000-08:00

The latest happening:

Hutton lost his first tooth today! We were driving around this afternoon, and he was eating a chewy granola bar in the car, and started to complain about his tooth being broken. When we stopped, I looked at it, and realized it was loose. Hutton wasn't too happy about it, even though I explained about the Tooth Fairy (yeah, I did all that crazy nonsense!).

We called my mom to share the news, and she shared some news of her own. Apparently, my cousin and his wife are getting divorced. Cousin's wife took the two kids (2 and 4 months) with her out of town with her for the weekend, and when she came back, asked Cousin why he'd changed the sheets on the bed. Answer: Because I had someone here when you were gone. Asshole of the Year Award goes to my cousin! Well, I really don't know much about their relationship, but I think having an affair, or even a meaningless fling, when you have a four month old son is craptacular.

When we got home, Hutton was still wiggling the tooth, and it popped out right after I got the extreme close-up shot. Then, I took the blurry second shot. Now I have to figure out what to have the Tooth Fairy put under the pillow. Dental floss perhaps? Just kidding, though I do have some on my desk from my visit to the dentist last week.

Slogging Along

2007-11-09T15:18:00.000-08:00

This week, the focus has been on trying to update the website my mother and cousin had me set up for my late uncle's artwork, Shades of Zade. The past year it has been languishing, as the current webhost has horrific customer service, and I couldn't get the site updated. Never, never, never use Name2Host. They truly suck donkey balls. Metaphorically, of course. I switched to HostMonster, for hosting at least, and they are awesome! Today, out of the blue, a real, live, human person called me to confirm the switch and see if I had any questions. Wow! I need to figure out how to switch the domain to them, as well, because they've been so amazingly easy to use. I mean, I found the information and got the site switched over and working in less than a day. And that's on Laura Work Time, meaning 20 minutes here and there in the afternoon, in between playing with the boys, feeding them, trying to get our computer printer to work so I could print out something for Hutton's school, etc.

I still have some snags on the site to work out, as I made it several years ago on FrontPage, which is now pretty outdated, and I can't get some things working right, as I forgot what very little I ever knew about HTML within a year of making the site. My main issue is to get the domain away from Sucktastic Servers, er, Name2Host, but they conveniently enough do not return emails or phone calls. I tried to transfer the domain last year, and it didn't go through. This year, I started a month in advance, and so far, Name2Host has not responded to any of my requests. I think their modus operandi is, "Don't ever engage in customer contact after signing them into Domain ownership. That way, when the domain is up for re-enrollment, they can't transfer it away because there's no way to do it without us. They'll have to re-enroll, rather than letting the domain run out and be charged a lot more to get it back." Sigh. Yes, Name2Host, you truly outdo yourself in douchbaggery. I'm going to write my fifth email today asking for the EPP authorization code so I can transfer the domain. Yeah, I'm sure this one will be answered.

Other than that, I'm looking for a pet/house sitter to come out for the holidays to watch the brood. I figured that would be cheaper and easier than taking them all to a kennel. Plus, I don't think Sally will be very excited to go to a kennel ever again after last year., when she ended up with a herniated disk in her neck. Sure, it could have happened anywhere, but it happened at a kennel, so after paying the $700 for the kennel, we had to pay $4500 for vet bills. Ahh. Good times. Hopefully this year, we won't have pet bills that cost more than our holiday travels.

We're going to go to Nashville again for Christmas, and probably drive to Charlotte to meet our new niece, and down to Pensacola to visit Hubby's family. I'm already dreading it a bit, but I'd be bummed if we didn't visit family over the holidays. As it is, this week has felt very lonely, as Hutton's ABA therapist #1 is on maternity leave, and #2 went on vacation and will be gone next week. The week following is Thanksgiving, when Hutton is out of school the whole week, but it's too expensive to travel two months in a row, so we'll stay here. I miss my dad at these times, as he and my stepmother used to come up here for Thanksgiving, and I like spending holidays with family, but this year it will just be me, Hubby, and the boys again. I think I'm getting the winter blahs already. The fact that it's gray and almost dark at 4:00 might have something to do with it.

Oh, Hutton and Harrison decided to fix the lights. We have some old, crappy track lights in our office that have been burned out for a long time. The boys stacked up some plastic storage boxes in a very precarious way, and have their tool kit out. It's very cute. At least until the plastic boxes crash to the ground.

Huttonisms

2007-11-02T11:36:00.000-07:00

Hutton just asked to watch "Baby Beef Oven" on DBD. I translated to, "Oh, you want to watch Baby Beethoven? I'll get it down for you!" All of the many, many kiddie DVDs are stored on top of the hutch over my desk. The boys try to climb on my desk to reach them occasionally, which occasionally results in a nice water cleaning of my desk and keyboard, when the glass of water that's usually on my desk gets knocked over. Guess I should move the DVDs down to their level? They can actually put them in the player and are pretty good when they handle them, though we have two DVD cleaners on hand for the inevitable fingerprints and scratches.

Let's see. Hutton also asked this morning for me to get up so we could eat "breastfast." Yeah, he still calls it that, even though I weaned him when he was one.

We Survived Satan's Day of Play!

2007-11-01T10:16:00.001-07:00

Hutton in the top half of his costume, or a pirate on casual Friday
Playing bingo at school
Halloween still life with gluten, corn and dairy free rice crispy treats
Cheeky little monkey Harrison
Halloween has come and gone, and we're all here and mostly OK! The title of my post is in reference to a book my BFF shared with me (quite sarcastically mind you!) entitled, "Mommy, Why Don't We Celebrate Halloween? BFF had bought a bunch of Halloween books on ebay, and this little gem was included. I found the book quite amusing, yet horrifying, in that some Christians actually believe Halloween is a devil worship festival and not a fun cultural fall fest handed down by those of Celtic/Irish descent. Well, bring on the pagan ritual, I say!

The Halloween Party Dillemma -- see this post if you don't know what I'm talking about! I found a babysitter on Craigslist (note, the party was thankfully before this sad, sad story happened. Way to make it even harder for people to find babysitters, you crazy douchbag!). I had waited until the last minute, of course, as I think I was secretly trying to undermine myself finding a sitter. But, a week or so before, I started looking, and had about six people say no, so I did look! And it paid off - Sierra was wonderful with Hutton. At the party, there were some kids' activities set up downstairs, and a movie playing upstairs, but Hutton preferred mostly to play hide and seek - going between the same two spots with Sierra following after a few moments. I got to have two drinks and wear a stupid costume. Fun. Afterwards, though the party was fun, it wasn't all that exciting. I only knew a few people there, and after all the turmoil and second-guessing I went through, I don't know if it was really worth it! But I did get to focus some energy on costume-making, which is always fun. Here I am as Dora on Saturday night. I made Hubby dress as the man with the yellow hat from Curious George. And then, since I didn't get a chance to take his picture Saturday, I wore his costume last night for trick-or-treating. So, here I am in drag. Well, sort of. The pants from the costume are actually women's pants, as are the boots. You can't tell, but they're high heel boots ("Sexy boots!" as my BFF said) that a real man in a yellow hat wouldn't be caught dead in. Actually, the man with the yellow hat may prefer to wear women's boots in the comfort of his apartment, or house in the country, and I don't judge him for that. He does live with a monkey, after all!

Halloween Pictures - Uncostumed

2007-11-01T09:52:00.000-07:00

Some post trick or treating pictures, or what I like to call, "Sugar High"Crazy Eyes 1
Crazy Eyes 2
Harrison putting Crazy Eyes Glasses on Curious George, while Hutton blows Harrison's hair with light-up ghost fan
Earlier in the day, when Harrison preps for Crazy Hair Day at school.

Keeping Up With Laura

2007-10-23T15:57:00.000-07:00

It's been an exciting week here. By exciting I mean, "Look at that paint! Is it dry yet? Nope! Not yet! Keep watching!"

We had an uneventful weekend. Hubby spend it playing Halo 3 with other freaks. Actually, I have no idea if the other players are freaks, but I'm ready to throw the Xbox out the window after Hubby literally spent all weekend playing, and didn't leave the house. I ran errands with the boys Saturday, and picked up lunch for Hubby. I came home and he was still wearing his bathrobe, playing Halo. That night, after I'd made dinner, which Hubby carried upstairs to eat while, once again, playing Halo, I put the boys to bed and did some internet surfing. Hubby told his Halo buddies he was feeling sick and had to turn in. Then, looking glazed, he told me, "I've played too much Halo! I feel sick." I gave him one of my looks, the one that's somewhere between, "Cry me a river" and amusement at his pathetic situation.

The next morning, thank goodness, he was feeling better and was back to a day of Halo. I made him fend for himself for lunch, and ducked out for two hours to get a console table from someone on Craigslist, then to shop at Target, sans children Ahh, sweet therapy. Then, after making dinner, I rearranged furniture all night. It's a weird thing I picked up from my mother. I, along with my siblings, am into redecorating. Even if a room is "perfect", within two years I will change my mind and generally hate everything about it. Thankfully, I can usually get away with just rearranging pictures, furniture, and throwing on a slipcover, rather than buying all new stuff. After I'd moved the couch back and forth, and back to its original position, along with every small table in the three rooms, I called it a night at 1 a.m.

Monday I got payment for some leather pants I sold on ebay. Don't ask me why I had leather pants. I got them on sale in 2001, and never wore them. Strangely enough, after having two kids, I'm not in any position to wear leather pants, not that I was before. So I put them on ebay and they sold. A buyer from Italy won them. But, I discovered after he sent payment and I was trying to print out shipping and customs forms, that importing leather goods into Italy is prohibited. I got freaked out by the thoughts of fines and/or fraud issues and canceled the shipment and refunded the buyer's payment. I don't want to end up out of money or in jail over a pair of pants I sold for $5.99. So, the lesson of the day is, don't sell things on ebay to buyers in Italy. At least not leather. In addition to it being illegal to ship leather pants there, you also cannot ship the following:
(From the US postal service website)

Albums (photographs, postcards, postage stamps, etc.)

Arms and weapons

Articles of platinum or gold; jewelry; and other valuable articles unless sent as insured Priority Mail International parcels.

Artificial flowers and fruits and accessories for them.

Bells and other musical instruments and parts thereof.

Cartridge caps; cartridges.

Clocks and supplies for clocks.

Compound medicaments and medicines.

Coral mounted in any way.

Ether and chloroform.

Exposed photographic and cinematographic films.

Footwear of any kind.

Haberdashery and sewn articles of any kind, including trimmings and lace; handkerchiefs; scarves; shawls, needlework including stockings and gloves; bonnets, caps, and hats of any kind.

Hair and articles made of hair.

Human remains.

Leather goods.

Lighters and their parts, including lighter flints.

Live bees, leeches, and silkworms.

Live plants and animals.

Nutmeg, vanilla; sea salt, rock salt; saffron.

Parasites and predators of harmful insects.

Perfumery goods of all kinds (except soap).

Playing cards of any kind.

Postage stamps in sealed or unsealed First-Class Mail International shipments.

Radioactive materials.

Ribbons for typewriters.

Roasted or ground coffee and its substitutes; roasted chicory.

Saccharine and all products containing saccharine.

Salted, smoked or otherwise prepared meats; fats; and lard.

Tobacco.

Toys not made wholly of wood.

Treated skins and furs.

Weapons of any kind and spare parts for them.

Damn, better cancel those Italian bids on that "Lonely Night In" auction, consisting of a deck of playing cards, lard, some hookworms, chicory coffee (that stuff is awesome! Love Cafe Du Monde!) and a hairshirt I knit from my own and my children's hair. Just kidding. I haven't knit anything from human hair. Yet. Also real hairshirts are normally goat hair or something more itchy than human hair. Just so you know.

Also, if anyone is in the market for some kick-ass leather pants, let me know!

Mornings are FUN!!

2007-10-17T10:28:00.001-07:00

Yeah, they're just so gosh-darned WONDERFUL! I love 'em! I love hearing Hubby's alarm clock go off at 7:15, quickly snoozed. Then the garbage truck comes down the street. Then Margene comes up to visit me on the bed, lovely and purring. (That actually is nice, not being sarcastic, but she did keep me from sleeping.) Garbage truck heading back up the street. Should I get up? Nah. Pet Margene some more. Close my eyes and think about things to do today. Sally sees me open my eyes and comes over for a pat. My alarm clock goes off. Turn it off. Pet Sally again, and get up.

Shower. Dress. Realize it's already after eight. Go into the office to find Hutton, who I heard milling around. Tell him to go get dressed, though still in pleasant voice (very rare to hear pleasant voice in the morning before 10 a.m.). Feed cats. Rush downstairs to feed the dogs and wake Harrison up. Harrison smells like poop. Take off poopy diaper, take stinky pajamas into laundry room and douse with Febreeze. Febreeze sheets in his room. I'll deal with them later. Show Harrison some clothes he might want to wear. No go. He's starting to whine. Mornings aren't his thing, either. He wants a striped shirt. I get it for him, and show him the "soft pants" that will match. Nope. He wants different "soft pants." Moving into more angry whining. Leave him to deal with clothes drama.

Make two bowls of cereal for boys. Hutton gets flax seed granola with some Honey Rice Puffins and chocolate almond milk. Harrison gets flax seed granola with Koala Krisp and regular almond milk. Hutton comes in, fully dressed. Hallelujah! I tell him I'm so glad he can get himself ready in the mornings, and can get himself dressed so well. Then I give him some of his supplements and adjust his socks. Harrison has actually dressed himself as well! He's not wearing the striped shirt, but I don't care. He's actually matching and isn't whining anymore! Hallelujah again!

Ask Hutton what kind of snack he wants at school. Trail mix. I point out that he didn't eat any of the trail mix I packed yesterday, except for picking out the chocolate chips to eat. I tell him I'm just going to put the uneaten trail mix back in his backpack, but he doesn't have a complaint. We'll see if he eats it. Run upstairs to brush my teeth and hair. Run back down and tell the boys it's time to go. Do you want to wear boots, Hutton? It's raining! No. I don't know where your brown shoes are, so do you want to wear the new blue ones or rain boots? Here's your jacket. Here, put these blue shoes on. Don't forget your backpack! (More than once we've been running down the street, late for the bus, when I've realized we left the backpack at home.) Harrison, come sit on the stairs and let me put your shoes on. Sit on your bottom, please! Hurry! Put your coat on! No, let me do it. OK, let's run, boys! Hurry!

Run down street. Well, sort of lope, so Harrison can keep up and not get tired. Make it to the end of street and bus still isn't there. Hope that we're early and that we haven't missed the bus. Oh boy! Here it comes! I won't have to drive Hutton to school and make Harrison late for school, as well.

Hutton is on the way to school. Harrison and I amble back home in the rain. Turn on the TV for Harrison to watch while I put on makeup. Come upstairs to find Hubby getting dressed. Yes, he slept through all of my morning rush drama, then took a nice leisurely shower. ~~Asshole~~ Lovely, lucky man. He leaves for work, and I finish getting ready. Let the dogs out and tell Harrison it's time for school. We head to the car. Sally comes into the garage and waits by her crate. Where's Fergus? I back the car out. No Fergus. I get out and run around the house, calling Fergus, which is pointless since he's deaf. No sign of him. Finally, cursing the bleeping dog I mumble he'll have to stay outside in the rain till I get back, and go to put Sally in her crate. Fergus is already inside the crate, waiting. Jeez, didn't see him there. Sally of course, won't go in the crate until I'm right there to nudge her and close it. Rush back to car. Great, we're about ten minutes late for preschool.

I get Harrison into school, wash his hands, and manage to get out without a big separation anxiety mess. Do I hear another Hallelujah? Get in my car, and realize, shock, I don't have anything I need to do. I drive around aimlessly for 15 minutes, listening to the "Nine at 9:00" segment on the morning station I like, then come home. To write it all down! My morning routine. Sigh. Latte. No stress. Nowhere to rush off to in the rain. Another 45 minutes until I get back in the car to go get Harrison, then the afternoon rush starts.

Look Who's Coming Around

2007-10-16T11:37:00.001-07:00

So, Nicky, our bitchy cat has been acting, dare I say, friendly lately. She's out and about in the house more frequently, has been hissing less at the dogs and Margene, and even lets Hutton pet her.

Here's the photographic evidence:

Yes, that's Nicky rubbing against Hutton, who has a new buzz cut to mask his Silly Putty-induced bald spot growing in.

Fall Beauty

2007-10-16T11:17:00.001-07:00

This weekend we had some lovely fall weather -- was warm and sunny. Now we're back to cold and rainy, and the batteries on our thermostat died yesterday. I replaced them with some I'd recharged recently, and yet none of the recently charged batteries were working. Grr. I put twelve batteries in the charger, but in the meantime took to wearing a down vest in the house to keep warm. Thank goodness this morning the batteries I charged yesterday were ready, so I could get the furnace working again. For some reason, we can't run the furnace if the thermostat batteries die. Not a good thing. Think I'll suck it up and buy some nice Energizer batteries to put in the thermostat, rather than keep having the change the lame rechargeable batteries every week. And did I mention the battery holder on the thermostat is broken, so I have to try to hold the batteries in place, while angling the thermostat back into the holder on the wall? Fun. Oh. Where was I? Oh yes, warm and sunny.

Saturday, the boys and I went out to check for salmon at the creek at the end of our street. We only saw two. Hope there are more next year!

Sunday we went to the nearby "farm" for our annual fall tradition of going through the corn maze and buying a pumpkin. The "farm" is about 27 acres, so not too big, but they always have an acre corn maze and some nice pumpkins for sale, and it's only ten minutes from our house. The corn maze wasn't too high this year, but much more impressive than it was the first year we went, when there was a summer drought and the corn was only about three feet high. Not exactly a challenging maze that year! The maze has ten differently patterned hole punches hidden at various points, and if you find all ten and punch your card, you get a mini pumpkin at the end. So, of course, we had to find all of those. It was fun, though Harrison had some whiny moments. We all made it through, though, and picked out our mini pumpkins (the boys both wanted white ones) and then found a nice big pumpkin for carving.

Friendship...or the Lack Thereof

2007-10-10T23:51:00.000-07:00

Something has been weighing on my mind lately. It involves of all things, a Halloween party.

Back story: We have been "friends" with another couple, the Xes, for several years, since we met them on a ski trip the winter after we moved to Washington. We don't hang out that frequently now that both couples have kids, but see each other a few times a year at parties or other get-togethers. Over the years, they have invited us to their annual Halloween parties. Several months ago, Hubby and Mr. X started working together in the same department. Hubby actually told Mr. X about the job. So, they are seeing each other more and are closer friends than they used to be.

Now, onto the weighty issue. This year, we received an invitation to their Halloween party in the mail. I was excited to go. Figure out what the boys would want to wear, come up with costumes for Hubby and myself, you know, the regular party deal. Soon after, Hubby asked if we'd received an invitation, and I told him we had. He then said, "So I was talking to Mr. X., and he mentioned that last year, the babysitters they hired to watch the kids at the party had a hard time dealing with Hutton. So, he asked if we could bring a babysitter for him." I gave Hubby the death glare I wished I could have given Mr. X, but since I couldn't transmit the glare through Hubby, it didn't do much. After a moment of glaring, I said, "Yeah, we weren't invited to their party last year." Hubby said, "Oh, then I guess the year before..."

Hmm. We weren't invited to their party last year. I had invited them all to Hutton's birthday party that summer, but only Mr. X and the younger son showed up. And we hadn't been invited to the party, so I had conned myself into believing maybe they weren't having a party that year, but I think I really knew and felt bad that we weren't invited. But now I know why. Because "the babysitters had trouble with Hutton."

This makes me both angry and sad. I am angry that we are made to feel obligated to hire a babysitter to accompany us to a party, when there will already be babysitters there. But, because our son is apparently so hard to handle, we need to hire one-on-one help. Now, if my BFF had brought this up, I really don't think I'd have a problem with it. If she said, "You know, it might be kinda loud and get crazy at the party, so do you think we should hire a babysitter to keep an eye on Hutton?" I wouldn't blink an eye. I'd probably say, "That's a great idea!" In fact, we did just that at her son's first birthday party this year, as it was a month after Hutton ran away from an outdoor birthday party. So, it makes sense, and I can see why they suggested it, but I still feel angry. I guess I can see how much Hutton has progressed over the summer, and I don't really think he'd need an extra one-on-one sitter to watch him at a party, where both of his parents will be present, as well as at least two babysitters hired by the host family.

And then the sadness kicks in. I feel sad that this is what we have to expect from this family in the future. And I'm sure they won't be the only family of "NTs" who feel this way, who won't want my autistic son at their party unless he is completely reined in by an adult who can devote full attention to him only. I really just wanted to go have fun at a party, but now I don't think I'll be able to do that, knowing we're being silently judged with our "crazy" child running amok.

So, after mulling this over more than it probably needs mulling, I've come up with a lot of cons to attending this party, including that hiring a babysitter, at $20 hour for three hours or so, is going to be a lot money, and Hubby says we need to budget. If we're going to spend that on a babysitter, I'd rather go out on a date than to a Halloween party. In addition, I'll be watching Hutton regardless, to make sure he doesn't eat something he shouldn't. I really don't trust others with this, since apparently one of his teachers has already forgotten about his food issues within a month, and gave him a graham cracker the other day. So, if I'm going to be watching him carefully to make sure he doesn't eat something he shouldn't, why should I pay someone else to watch him, too?

After thinking of these cons, I've come up with the following options:

1. Suck it up. Hire a babysitter and attend party. Pretend to be happy to be there, so Hubby, who will actually enjoy being there, can have some time with his friends.

2. Tell Hubby I couldn't find a babysitter, so he and Harrison should go, and Hutton and I will stay home.

3. Hire a babysitter, have her stay here with the boys, then attend party. Tell hosts, "Well, since we're spending $20 hour on a babysitter, I figured I'd rather the boys get to bed on time. And Hutton has food allergies, so I didn't trust him to not have an infraction, anyway."

4. Have Hubby go to party solo. He can tell the hosts whatever he wants. (My wife hates you now. My family all has small pox....)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, what do you think? What would you do? Am I being unreasonable and touchy? Or am I just feeling something only a fellow touchy Autism mom could understand? Give me a vote in your comments!

And I was really getting excited about this Halloween party. I have a great costume idea for myself, but it will remain a secret until Halloween, provided I actually dress up.

Something on Autism

2007-10-01T12:52:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted on the big "A" in a while. Believe me, it's still one of the main focuses of my life!

An hour or so ago, I called a local compounding pharmacy to see if they could make Hutton's Methylcobalamin injections. These are also known as MB12, and he's been getting them for about two months now. In that time, his verbal skills have greatly increased, so I think they're a keeper. The downside - I have to give him a shot every three nights. I do it while he's asleep, and the needles are tiny, so he doesn't feel them. The shots are given subcutaneously, into the fat, at a 30 degree angle. The best spot for this subcutaneous fat? The buttocks. Yes, that's right. Every three nights, I sneak into Harrison's room (where Hutton sleeps, too) and attempt to expose enough of Hutton's booty to get the syringe in at an angle, all without waking him. Needless to say, this is hard to do. Most times, he'll wake up as soon as he senses my presence, or what he probably thinks is the Boogie Man hovering over his bed, and flip from his side onto his back, so I have to wait a few minutes for him to go back to sleep, then try to flip him on his side again and hope he stays asleep. If he hadn't had the huge improvement in language, I don't think I'd bother, but there's undeniable progress there. Even his bus driver noticed, after all!

Anyway, the local pharmacy can prepare the shots, and they'll ship them overnight with no additional charge, plus our insurance covers the shots. Hallelujah! One less thing to pay for. The previous pharmacy, in New Jersey, charged us an additional $34 to ship the shots every month. Thirty-four dollars is just a drop in the bucket of our Autism supplements costs, but I'll take what I can get! The new pharmacy is The Falls Pharmacy, and even though they're about a half hour drive, I consider them local! (That's what happens when you live in the boonies.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Also going on: I've been reading lots of Autism related books this month.
Completed:
Kenneth Bock, Healing the New Childhood Epidemics: Autism, ADHD, Asthma, and Allergies: The Groundbreaking Program for the 4-A Disorders This book was wonderful. Easy to understand, with lots of the science behind the current treatments for Autism. I definitely feel like we're on the right track after reading it.

Jenny McCarthy, Louder Than Words This was a great, fast read, and I love how Jenny has made the world of biomedical treatments for Autism so mainstream! Her appearance on Oprah a couple of weeks ago led my 82-year-old grandmother to call me, excitedly announcing, "Laura! You have to watch Oprah! There's a woman on taking about Autism! She's talking about that diet stuff you've been doing with Hutton!" I LOVE that! If my grandmother is paying attention, who knows how many other grandparents and other family members are out there learning about Autism and that treatment is possible! Fabulous!

I'm still reading:
John Elder Robinson, Look Me in the Eye This is a great story, and I would have finished it already, but I got distracted with the new fall TV season and with my knitting. It's a lot easier to knit and watch TV than it is to knit and read a book!

Bryan Jepson, Changing the Course of Autism This is another book, like the first one, written by a doctor who treats children with Autism. This one has lots of statistics and more complicated scientific writing that my poor little English major brain can handle easily, so I'll be reading this one for a while. Good thing I bought it, rather than checking it out of the library! Oh yeah, I need to return the Kenneth Bock book to the library. It was due yesterday. D'oh!

Off to go to the library and take Hutton for a haircut. It's picture day tomorrow, and he looks like an early era Beatle, but before they'd grown their hair to mop-top perfection. In other words, he looks like he needs a haircut.

Thomas, Not Again!

2007-09-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

OK, Thomas, after the first lead paint recall, your "cheeky little engine" thing was wearing thin. Now, months later, still having not received the replacements for the original toys I sent back due to lead paint, (and that I and my mom and MIL spent a troublesome truck*load of money on!) I see that you're involved in more lead paint shenanigans. Now, I think the "cheeky little engine" is turning into "that bleeping bleepy train!"

Actually, Thomas, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at your parents. Or, rather, the company responsible for making you, or having you manufactured in China and not checking to make sure you and your pals weren't contaminated with lead paint before selling you to a mass market of young kids.

So, have Sir Topham Hatt* tell RC2 Corp. to get on the ball and get this lead paint crap dealt with, because you and your little train friends won't have much of a future outside of the Island of Sodor if this continues!

*Apologies to those who aren't familiar with the characters from Thomas and Friends. Actually, forget that. If you don't know these names, consider yourself very lucky! Then again, I'll take "Thomas and Friends" over that whiny Canadian bastard "Caillou", or those annoying American planes on "Jay Jay the Jet Plane" any day! (See, I have issues will all nationalities of whiny children's programming and toys!)

~~~~~~~~~~~
Check this site to see if you need to return anything! Better yet, see here for still MORE toys that have been recalled recently. Sigh. I think I need to go through again and make sure I haven't missed any.

We own the Figure Eight set, so now I have to get all the little green bases to signs, as well as all the green maple tree tops and send them all back, since strangely enough, the boys don't keep the pieces all segregated by set and they're all intermingled in the storage bins under the train table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UPDATE: A got an email from RC2 Corp., which manufactures the Thomas toys that were recalled. Part of the groveling message of embarrassment and apology about the second big recall in only a few months included a warning that one of the toys sent as an appeasement (my word choice) to angry parents was recalled, too. The company sent out some trains to those affected by the recall. We received one with a note apologizing and promising they were working on safety. Apparently, some who sent in toys that were part of the recall received a train, Toad, that was a part of this latest recall. I can't remember which "appeasement train" we received, but I just searched through our box of trains and didn't see Toad, so I think we're OK. But if we had, I imagine that would make me even angrier!

Now, to give the company credit, they have instituted a new "Multi-Check Toy Safety System" to make sure the toys they manufacture are actually safe to play with. We'll see, RC2.

Off to mail three maple tree tops and four sign bases that may or may not be painted with lead paint. Hey, at least we're already chelating metals from Hutton's body!

Step Away From the Cat!

2007-09-26T09:30:00.001-07:00

Yawn. I did it again. I stayed up until 1:00 a.m. reading in the bathtub. But I did read half of Look Me in the Eye, and it's wonderful!

I had a soccer game at 8:45 last night, so didn't get home until 10:30, (we lost, per usual, but played a very good game, if I do say so myself!) and I was cold and wet, so needed a bath. And of course, I had to read in the bath, so I grabbed the new book and it immediately hooked me. Hope to finish it today around my napping.

Harrison is still sick, so will miss another day of preschool. I think we'll have missed most of this month now. Oh well. It's only money, right? He did well with his blood work yesterday. I gave him a lollipop, and the blood-letter -- what's the correct term for that? Oh yeah, phlebotomist -- used a tiny butterfly needle and my big boy's amazing arm vein filled up the two vials in less than a minute. Of course, he whined about his sore arm afterward, but we went and got a treat (chocolate chip banana bread for him, pumpkin spice latte for me) and an extra something (Baby Einstein "On the Go" DVD for him, Look Me in the Eye for me) to make us both happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The title of this post - I've mentioned our two new cats in passing, but I will finally introduce them on the blog. At the end of July, the boys and I went to the Humane Society to look at cats. We decided on two lovely ladies in the "book room" -- a room painted with a mural to resemble a library, with shelves for the kitties to sit on.

We brought home "Lady" and "Kiwi", and I renamed them Nicky and Margene after two of my fave ladies from "Big Love". The names seem to fit their personalities. Nicky is a bitch -- she likes me and Hubby, but hisses at the dogs and Margene.
She stayed hidden behind Hubby's desk for the first month, and finally started coming out during the day and sleeping on the printer. She is getting better, but still not exactly a "shiny happy kitty". I assumed, incorrectly, that since she and Margene were together in the book room, they'd know each other and be fine. So far, Margene just takes her sister's bitchiness in stride.

Margene is a sweetheart, and a great hunter. She managed to get outside a bit, and is like Tully 2. Not only does she look like her predecessor, she acts like her, too. She's left us little rodent offerings on the front walk when she gets out, but also likes to climb on the roof and meow at the bathroom skylight, just like her lost sister. I've been a lot better about keeping her in, though, so she doesn't repeat everything her lost sister did, including "going off to the country" as we call it in these parts. I don't leave the door cracked for the dogs when they go out and watch for her slinking around before I open the door. Plus, now that it's getting cold and rainy, the boys aren't going outside as often during the day, so the door isn't getting opened as much. When we got Margene, her paperwork made it seem like she'd been an indoor cat. But then, a week later, I got some supplemental paperwork mailed to me. Guess who was a stray who showed up at somebody's house pregnant with kittens and was taken to the Humane Society? Yep. Our Margene. Just like Tully, again.

Margene (I'm assuming it was Margene) also caught a big rat in the house. Yikes! Several weeks ago, Harrison was talking about Margene bringing a mouse into his room. Hubby had been up to change Harrison's diaper in the middle of the night, and the next morning, Harrison told me about the mouse, but Hubby didn't say anything about it. Later the morning, I took a diaper out to the diaper pail in the garage, and opened it to reveal a big, dead rat on top of the dirty diapers. Huh. Thanks, Hubby. What a lovely surprise! I was cleaning the boys' bathroom and found some soap that been chewed up by a rodent, so I hope it was the one Margene caught, and there aren't more of them lurking around.

Both boys love the cats, but are a bit too exuberant around them. The cats are pretty good at staying away from the boys (Nicky hides behind Hubby's desk, Margene likes to sleep under our bed), but are getting more adventurous, coming out when the boys are around. Hutton, particularly, likes to look at the cats' furry ears, and tells me that we don't eat the fur in the ears. Very smart, there, Hutton. No, we DON'T eat the fur in the cats' ears. However, late last week, Hutton got a bit too close to Nicky, talking excitedly about the fur in her ears, and got a scratch on his face. I told him we have to be nice to the kitties, and not get too close, as they don't like that and will scratch to protect themselves. Hutton repeated this back to me. Be nice to kitties. Don't get too close. Nicky will scratch you. Blah blah blah. This morning, when Hutton was up at the crack of dawn, and I was still lolling in bed (1:00 a.m. bedtime, remember?), I heard Hutton being giggly and silly, followed by, "Ow!" with a few crying noises. Then back to giggly silliness a few minutes later. I got up, and sure enough, who has a fresh, longer set of scratches on his face? Hutton! So, at the bus stop this morning I went over with him again that Nicky is a mean cat. She doesn't like to be messed with. Don't touch her ears. Don't put your face anywhere near her. The next time she might scratch your eye, and that would be very, very, very bad. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I asked Hutton, "What do we do with Nicky?" Reply: "Stay away from Nicky. She is mean and will scratch you!" I repeated my warnings a few more times, but I'm sure this is not the last time Hutton will be scratched by a cat.

Sigh.

So, here are the new kitties. Guess which one is which.
Don't I look beautiful? Like a fluffier version of Tully?
Don't mess with me. I'll scratch your eyes out. Hiss!

~~~~~~~~~
Oh, I realized we spell Nicky's name differently than the show (Nicki). But, since she's also sort of named for Hutton's former speech therapist, Nichie, I'll stick with my spelling! Nicky definitely acts more like Nicki than Nichie (who is very sweet).

I'll Be Back Soon!

2007-09-25T09:45:00.001-07:00

Hi Loyal Readers! (or for those occasional "What the crap is this? Why am I reading this?" readers)

I promise I'll be back to writing more regularly soon. Maybe this afternoon I'll start blogging about some of the crap I put on my desk to blog about. Then again, I may decide to take a nap rather than rely on the six hours of sleep I got last night. Why do I do that to myself? Put down the damn book, get out of the freezing cold bath water and go to bed before midnight, you dumb bitch! Sorry, my other half can get kinda mean.

Anyway, today is the big release of John Elder Robison's book, Look Me in the Eye. I'm not getting to go to any fun NY premiers, but I'll be going to buy it this morning.

Today is also the big launch of Halo 3. I don't know for sure, because he was in bed asleep at 1 a.m., but Hubby was gone when I got up at 7:30 a.m., so he got up early and I'm sure Halo 3 in involved. They're selling it at his place of work, so at least he might get some work done today around waiting in line for the newest installment of his beloved ~~waste of time~~ Xbox game. And no, Hubby doesn't work at 7-11.

Oh, Hubby was also kind enough to buy another Xbox console. You may be thinking, how is that kind? Well, see, our satellite dish got messed up when something or someone ran into it. Didn't see it happen, and the plants around the dish weren't harmed, but the satellite dish no longer works. So, Hubby hooked up the Xbox to the TV to act as our new TiVo. We still get basic cable, but no more movie channels. (I'll miss you, HBO! Larry, I'll watch the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm eventually!) We also have the old Xbox upstairs, so the boys can play Xbox, or more often, play DVDs on it. Hubby told me he didn't want me to miss out on the new fall TV season (and yes, I've reminded him more than once about the importance of TV in my life)
while he would be playing Halo, so he bought a third Xbox to play Halo 3. Isn't he a sweetheart? Yes, and this is the man who just last week was talking about how we're spending too much money and need to budget more. I guess that meant, "Laura, YOU need to budget more. I will continue to spend money on whatever I think we need."

Anyway, this morning I am also taking Harrison to get blood drawn for allergy testing. This will be real fun, I'm sure. Sticking a three year old with needles and drawing blood - what's not to love? Yes, there will be lots of bribery involved and promises of sweets afterwards. Who knows, Harrison may end up on a super strict diet like his brother when we get the results back, so I've got to fill him with junk while we've got the chance. This has actually been occurring the past two weeks. The doctor told me to make sure Harrison eats lots of common allergens before the test, so he's had cow's milk, eggs, cheese, nuts, gluten...a lot of the stuff Hutton can't eat. We'll see how it goes!

Yawn. Now, why did I stay up reading in the bath long after the tub had turned cold? I just had to finish that book, even though I'd read it before. That's the trouble with having mush instead of brains. I can't remember most books I read within 6 months of reading them, and the book I read last night, Never Let Me Go was really good. It was probably really good when I read it last year at this time, but it was the book for this month's book club, so I needed to re-read it. Problem is, the book club meeting was two weeks ago, so I'd already missed it, but by then I was into the book and couldn't just put it away. Oh, and I started two other books while reading it. But I digress.

Time to go get that blood drawn. Fun times!

Bleh

2007-09-20T13:04:00.000-07:00

One of those afternoons. I got to the bus stop to get Hutton late. The time got away from me, and when I noticed the time, it was 12:28 -- two minutes before the bus was due to arrive. I ran downstairs to get Harrison. I told him we had to get Hutton and started to put his shoes on. He had taken off his socks and didn't want his shoes on without those.

Eh. Tough nookie, cookie. Ran out with crying Harrison after me. Walked to the street and saw the bus already there at the corner. Grr. Held Harrison's hand and attempted to walk quickly. One time we were not at the bus stop, so the driver drove down our street, as there's more than enough room for the short bus to turn around across from our house, but no go today. I finally got to the end of the street, and the bus driver said, "What's your cell phone? I have the wrong one." I gave her my number. Then she said, "Can you please try to be on time? I've been here five minutes!" I said, "Sure. I thought you came at 12:30?" She said, "No, 12:25. Hutton is the first one off the bus, and it depends on how fast we leave school." OK. On Monday, the bus arrived at 12:45. Really. Tuesday it was after 12:30, as it was on Wednesday. But, no, I'll be there early.

The bus driver is normally nice, and has been commenting lately how much Hutton has progressed in the past year, which is great, but I was still annoyed by this. The bus driver gives the kids stickers in the afternoons if they're good on the bus, and usually gives Harrison one, too, which again, is nice of her. Today Harrison got a pirate sword sticker, but wanted the one Hutton already had on his hand when he got off the bus: a treasure chest with parrot. He started throwing another tantrum as we walked toward home, so I said, "Fine!" And tried to get Hutton's sticker, but ripped it. Great.

I checked the mail and Harrison had a fit about carrying the mail. I gave him a flyer to carry, and he then tripped and started crying. Deep breath.

Got inside and made the boys sandwiches for lunch. Went to look in Hutton's backpack. Found a book along with his homework tube (an empty Pringle's can covered in red paper that is used to send home notes and homework on the weekends, or Thursday, since there's no Kindergarten on Friday). I thought it was library day, since they hadn't announced that day yet, then opened Hutton's notebook to see, "Please send money or replace book Hutton ripped. He was squirrelly today. Is this is a pattern?" Great. I didn't know what that meant, as Monday he had a bad day, Tuesday and Wednesday were fine, and today was bad, apparently. Last week seemed fine, so no, teacher, I don't see a pattern, unless it's one of those weird ones like AAAABAAAAAAABAAB. Not really my kind of pattern. I'm not a math person, though.

But, I had thought Hutton was doing fine. Well, fine for a six-year-old with Autism. I mean, the bus driver has been raving about his behavior being so great, for crying out loud! Guess not. I started having a mini breakdown, crying and saying out loud, "Is this really my life?" Now, this wasn't really a bad day in the grand scheme of things, but I guess the fall weather (read: gray and dreary) is starting already and I'm just not glad to be back to the everyday crap after my weekend of single fun in NYC. Sigh. One day at a time, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another thing: Hubby told me Sunday night when he picked me up from the airport we were spending too much money again and needed to come up with a budget. Ugh. Well, the budget is a good idea, because I really don't see how we're spending lots of money. Let's see, I bought a plane ticket to my friend's wedding, and the wedding gift, and spent less than $100 in NYC. Most of the stuff I did was free or paid for, like the rehearsal dinner and wedding. I stayed with my friend and her husband, which saved a lot on a hotel. Other than this trip, I made a trip to San Francisco in July, and stayed with friends, again, but the boys and I did not visit family this summer, as we normally do. My mom and Hubby's mom came to visit us instead. Other than these two trips, the boys and I went to the movies once, to the state fair one afternoon, and to a farm with carnival rides one time for entertainment this summer. The only things I buy with Hubby's (read: our) money are groceries, and coffee for my secret shopping, which is reimbursed. I bought some toys for Hutton's birthday with a gift card from my mom. I got a new dress for myself to wear to the wedding with another gift card from my mom. Other than that, I spend money on Hutton's ABA therapy - the 20% not covered by insurance - and his vitamins and supplements, which are pretty expensive, but not crazy. I bought some back to school clothes for Hutton at Old Navy, and my mother bought some clothes for Hutton and Harrison when she came to visit. We go out to eat - at a hot dog place - once a week. I go to the library for most of my books, but do buy a couple books or CDs every now and then, using my secret shopping money. I pay about $400 a year to play on my soccer team, which averages $33 a month. There's fuel for the car and other incidentals. We don't spend extra on HBO anymore. (In fact, our TV doesn't work at all right now. Just in time for the fall season!) But, all together, I really don't see how we're living so lavishly that Hubby's pretty good salary can't cover everything. I feel like I lived higher on the hog when I was single and making less than $30,000 a year. Then again, I could spend my salary on just me then, and we didn't have to pay a mortgage and to feed a family of four. Oh yeah, and two dogs and two cats.

Sigh. It's cold in my house. Waah. Enough whining. Time to go try to make myself happy.

Sick and Tired

2007-09-17T21:56:00.000-07:00

I went to New York City this past weekend for a friend's wedding, sans children and husband. I had a great time with my college friends, but am sick now, and got home to a sick child. Harrison has some sort of chest cold - wheezy and croupy coughing during the night, better during the day. Hopefully we will both be better soon!

Oh, and I'm tired because I've averaged 6.25 hours of sleep a night since Thursday's red eye flight to NY, with adolescent boy next to me putting his bare feet on my leg keeping me from getting a good night's sleep - er, make that a good 3 1/2 hours sleep - on the flight out. Oh well. Guess I should go down early tonight, huh? Nothing like 6 hours of sleep to really help a cold.

If any of you college friends remembered how to find this blog, please comment! (I gave them all the info on it, but I doubt anyone was sober enough to remember!)

Why Are You Trying to Pin Me Down?

2007-09-10T15:35:00.000-07:00

Oh, wait, never mind.

I got a new digital camera to replace the one I had that was not working well. I filled in the product registration for some reason, even though that sort of thing is not generally helpful to me, and then filled out a survey afterwards. The last question:

What is your gender?
Male _
Female _
No Answer _

~~~~~~~~~~~

Britney!!

2007-09-10T14:17:00.000-07:00

I forgot that Britney was going to be on the MTV Video Music Awards last night until it was too late to watch, so I hunted it down online. You can find it here now.

So, I was a bit shocked. I'd read that it was bad, but it was really like watching a train wreck. I feel bad for everyone involved, especially Britney. But then I think, "Wait, she's got millions of dollars. Why am I feeling sorry for her?"

My fave line about the "performance": "The over all effect was that of an out-of-shape hooker with an inner ear infection." (From here)

For the Kids

2007-09-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

In honor of the first week of school last week, I have a lesson today for the kids out there. What, no kids read this blog? Hmm. Well, any immature adults? OK, you'll do just as well.

Today's lesson: Things that don't mix.

First we have oil and water. This is called immiscibility. Can you say immiscibility? No, I can't either. If you're actually interested in reading about immiscibility, you'll have to go here. I don't do chemistry.

What else doesn't mix?

Let's see, there's peanut butter and tuna fish. Haven't tried those together on a sandwich, and don't plan to.

There's paint and hair. Paint doesn't come out of hair easily.

There's gum and hair. Gum comes out of hair with peanut butter, but then you need to get the peanut butter out of your hair.

There's also Silly Putty and hair. Silly putty is quite a cool little invention created by a General Electric engineer during World War II, when the US needed to come up with a synthetic rubber compound. The boric acid/silicone oil combination didn't work for its intended purpose, but made a nifty toy! And it has some other uses, which is why Hubby keeps an egg of it on his desk. I can't remember what he uses it for, but it's there, and it's tempting to little boys like Hutton. He's often getting into his Daddy's Silly Putty, and I'm always telling him to please put it back and not play with things on Daddy's desk.

So, this morning as I was showering, I heard Hutton getting upset in the other room, crying and calling for me. Showers are short around here. I got out and called Hutton into the bathroom, where he was holding his head and saying something was stuck.

Now, kids, can you guess what Hutton had stuck in his hair? Did you say Silly Putty? Great job! You're right!

I looked at the mess in front of me and started tugging at putty, while holding Hutton's hair at the roots so as not to pull it all out. This didn't work very well, so I got the biggest chunk of putty out (along with a lot of hair) and told Hutton to hold tight while I went to find Silly Putty removal options on the computer.

I googled "Silly Putty and Hair" and clicked on the first likely website. I scrolled to the bottom of the comments and found that hand sanitizer and Pam cooking spray were two recommended options. I knew we didn't have any Pam in the house, and I didn't have any hand sanitizer handy, but I did have some hand sanitizing moisturizer on my desk, so I grabbed that and squirted a glop into Hutton's hair. Didn't do too much. I read further: alcohol was another option. I took Hutton back to the bathroom, doused the back of his head in rubbing alcohol, and grabbed Hubby's comb. It did the trick, plus now Hubby's comb is all sanitized! Great!

Now, look at the picture below and tell me what you think it is:

If you said, "Something your cat left on your doorstop!" then, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. (Though it does look like something a cat might have hacked up.) The correct answer is, of course, "Silly Putty and hair!" Silly Putty and hair do not mix, as I hope you've learned from this little lesson. I hope that Hutton has learned this lesson, too, though he had to learn it the hard way.

As I combed his hair, I told him over and over, "This wasn't a very good idea. Please don't ever put Silly Putty or anything else sticky in your hair!" We'll see how his listening comprehension is.

We're going to be working on some different bald spot covering hairstyles for a while. Unfortunately, the two cowlicks on the back of Hutton's head don't cooperate with many hairstyles.

Time for My Weekly Post!

2007-09-02T18:31:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it seems I've fallen to weekly posting. Sigh.

Hubby is still working on our deck. The boys and I went to the library today. I had a new book to pick up, and the boys always love getting more library books. We followed that up with a trip to the park.

Hoo, boy, do we know how to have an exciting Labor Day weekend, or what?!

I'll let you know what I think about the book when I finish. I've only read about forty pages, but those have made me feel like we're on the right track with Hutton -- he's getting MB-12 shots for his methylation, which is important for detox. I have definitely noticed a big improvement in his verbal skills over the past 6 weeks since we've started the shots. Now I need to start adding in other things since we know that the shots are working for us. Hmm. That means we've got some lab work we need to do, as well, which is always fun. Lab work = collecting blood, urine and stool. Now who doesn't think that sounds fun?!

Let's see. The room I'm in looks like toy bomb exploded. The litter box needs to be cleaned. (I need to write a post on our new kitties, don't I?) I need to make dinner. None of those can be done by keyboard...yet! When I've perfected my keyboard-run robot I'll let you all know.

Speaking of robots, last night when I was making dinner, the boys (meaning Hubby, Hutton and Harrison) watched the last half hour of "I Robot" on TV. I caught a few minutes, and found the dialogue cheesy, with all those computer-generated special effects being the only thing going for the movie. Hubby commented, "Yeah, it's really necessary to have a computer mainframe with an 8 story drop-off" during the scenes when they try to dismantle the evil robot mainframe. Harrison commented, "That was a good movie!" after it was finished, so hey, at least he enjoyed it! Hutton thought the robots looked cool, and laughed at them climbing buildings. So, two out four ain't bad.

And to Think, I Actually Paid Money for This Crap

2007-08-26T17:38:00.000-07:00

(That was typed "carp" first. But I fixed the typo because I didn't want to mislead anyone into thinking I was blogging about goldfish, and have them be terribly disappointed!)

Check out this link. Click on the picture of the cute little baby to read the article, first.

Essentially, she took the blog entry right out of my brain! I was reading Parents Magazine in the bathtub last weekend, and I got to the page mentioned above, and steam literally started coming out of my ears. Well, OK, maybe the steam was coming off the hot water, but still....

My thoughts (the ones I had in the tub, but didn't get around to blogging about last weekend. And then I had the magazine in my car and spilled some caramel sauce on it. It's a long story involving lattes. You really don't want to know.): First the "Autism Update" was some stupid "study" that supposedly disproves any connection between vaccines (or, the mercury in them) and Autism, because the mothers of children with Autism were no more likely to have had the RhoGAM shot than other mothers (of non-autistic children, I assume). And that proves what exactly? Some mothers get a RhoGAM shot because it supposedly protects their unborn babies with an incompatible blood type from the mother. Before 2001, these shots had thimerosal (a mercury-based preservative). After 2001, they apparently took out this super-important ingredient for some reason. (No, not because it's bad for you. Really, it's perfectly fine to have lots of mercury in your body. Ask those dentists who still use mercury fillings in your teeth. Or that Mad Hatter character from Alice in Wonderland.)

So this study says there's no connection with women receiving the RhoGAM shot having a greater incidence of children with Autism. Great. Good for them. But you know what? I had a shot containing mercury when I was pregnant with Hutton. A flu shot. In fact, I had two of them. Because the first does supposedly doesn't cover you. And I fell for the hype. "Oh no! The flu! You'll die! Run for you life! Get a shot! You're a pregnant but otherwise healthy woman, but without this shot you're doomed!" And just in case that wasn't enough, I had my eight mercury fillings leaking mercury vapor with every hot or cold drink I had. Coffee and milkshakes? Yes, please! My baby would like some more mercury! And then, in case Hutton didn't get enough mercury in my uterus, he was injected with his first mercury-containing shot just hours after birth, when he came out blue from having the cord wrapped around his neck. Hmm. We'll just give him some oxygen in the NICU to get him good and pink before we further tax his little immune system with an unnecessary shot. Yes, I'm calling the Hep B shot unnecessary. Hutton did not, in fact, leave the hospital to go shoot up drugs and have unprotected sex soon afterwards. Now, it's possible a Hep B infected druggie or crack whore could have run up to us while we were leaving the hospital and injected him with a dirty needle, but not really probable.

So, the fact that I didn't receive the RhoGAM shot and still have a child with Autism means nothing to me. This study doesn't make the vaccine-Autism theory immediately disappear, as far as I'm concerned.

And, please, don't look at the cute little baby above the story and assume he or she has Autism. That would be just horrible. That's why Parents added that neat little disclaimer: The child pictured is a model and is unrelated to the issue described in the text. God forbid a child have Autism. It affects 1 in 150 now, but rest assured that the model doesn't have it and your child couldn't possibly get if from your RhoGAM shot. Back to your normal lives.

Yes, I'm tired of these parenting magazines. I think it's time to cancel my subscription.

Blah-de-blah, Blah-de-blah

2007-08-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

Too much going on in my poor little brain to actually blog lately. Easier to sit on my butt reading other people's words, sipping cold coffee I'm too lazy to go reheat.

Let's see. School starts September 4th. Hutton's TK class -- the one he took last year, with the evil teacher -- is doing a job-share this year. A new teacher (!!) will be there Monday and Wednesday, regular old megabitch on Tuesday Thursday. I'm going to try it out for a month to see if it works. If not, I'll start annoying the special education director again. It's the lazy mother approach. I'm a lazy mother, so it works for me.

Harrison is still not potty trained. He can pee on the potty, he just chooses not to most of the time. Sigh. We'll see if I can still get him into his preschool class. I keep telling him if he wants to go to school, he has to use the potty like a big boy. He always says, "I'm a big boy!" but when you're peeing in a diaper that doesn't mean much.

My desk is a big mess. I have to find a new speech therapist and a new home therapist. Our current home therapist is pregnant, so I have until November, and it would be nice to have some overlap time for the new therapist to work with the current one.

Sigh. Ever have one of those ~~days weeks~~ years when you don't feel like doing anything?

Hubby has been working on the deck all weekend. I didn't have a party for Hutton on his sixth birthday. We went to the State Fair on his birthday instead, with my best friend and her kids. It was fun. Hot, but not unbearable. We saw lots of cute farm animals, and rode on some kiddie rides. Well, the boys did. I rode on the kiddie roller coaster with them, and bought the picture.

I'm the one in front, partially blocked by the red afro of the girl in front of me. You can't see my friend's daughter in the picture. She's sitting next to me, and is probably hiding behind the red afro. I'm not sure if it's technically an afro, since I don't know what race the girl was, and I don't like to be racist when it comes to hair, so why don't we call it fluffy hair? The adorable boys behind me are Hutton (taller one) and Harrison (shorter one). I love the faces of the other kids on the ride, as well, especially the back row. You'd think we were on the Tower of Terror. I also have the picture from that ride, which Hubby and I went on when we went to Disney World when we were dating, eleven years ago.

I'll try to be a better blogger. We'll see!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, in follow up to this post, I had a wonderful birthday dinner. Hubby and I went to a really, really great restaurant, and ended up taking much longer than I'd thought, so we kinda screwed over the babysitter. Well, we did pay her a lot of money for being late, and she told my friend she liked my kids and didn't mind, and she'd like to sit for us again. Yeehaw! I didn't know where we were going until Hubby came home, and I neglected to read the website for the restaurant which said, "Please allow 4 to 5 hours for dinner." Yes, that's right. This restaurant serves 9(!!) courses, and into our fifth hour, we cut out early, missing part of the eight and ninth courses. We got a to go-box with the little truffles they were serving, but missed out on the 1910 Madeira wine. Oh well. Next time Hubby decides to spend that much on dinner (yeah, right!) I'll find a babysitter who can stay all night.

It's My Party and I'll Bitch if I Want To

2007-08-17T12:04:00.000-07:00

Well, there's not a party. Not even a dinner. And I'm pissed. No, I don't need a birthday party. In fact, I don't really like birthday parties. They're OK every once in a long time, but really, after a certain age (post college for me) I think they're kinda silly, unless you're getting the whole family together to celebrate Uncle Hughey's 85th or something like that.

But, Hubby and I did make plans to go out tonight to celebrate my birthday. The night after the real day, but Hubby had to work late yesterday, so whatever. Friday night sounded great. A night out for the first time in months. We went out to dinner on our 10th anniversary in June, but other than that, haven't gone out together since December probably, when we visited family and left the kids with grandparents. So, I searched around and found a babysitter who seemed nice and professional, had good references, etc. I was so looking forward to dinner, and dare I dream, possibly a movie, with Hubby! Whoa. Craziness. I saw Ratatouille with the boys last week, and that was my big summer movie. Make that my first movie of 2007.

So, yesterday was nice. I met my friend and her kids at a farm that has kiddie rides, and the boys had a great time, as did I. I was tired when I got home, and didn't really want to deal with getting dinner ready by myself since Hubby was working late, but hey, I had Friday night to look forward to. I could do it!

I checked my email around 6, then went to make dinner, get the boys ready for bed, etc. I checked my email again before bed at 11:30 or so. And saw this:

Dear Laura,

Good evening. I feel awful about this but I am not going to be able to come over tomorrow evening. I know you will most likely not want to hire me in the future as this is very unprofessional. I have had something happen that I must attend to tomorrow evening and that is all I can say. I am so sorry for all of the inconvenience I am sure this will cause to your plans.

Regretfully yours,

Super Megabitch

Arggh! I told Hubby that I'd try to find another babysitter today, but so far no one has called me back. This just sooo pisses me off. I know it's just a stupid dinner and (possibly) movie, but when you don't get to go out with your husband more than a couple times a year, its something you really look forward to.

And, once I start wallowing in self-pity, I think that I have no idea if Hutton will be able to live on his own as an adult, let alone be left at home without a babysitter when he's a teenager, so I can't look forward to that: "Only seven more years and you can go out to dinner again!" Hmm. If I wait ten years maybe Harrison can be the babysitter for himself and his brother. Well, that will be a great 44th birthday, then! Can't wait!

It's My Birthday. Go Ahead, Worship Me!

2007-08-16T11:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's my birthday again! I share it with my sister-in-law and Madonna, and it's also the anniversary of Elvis' death. So, it's a day of joy and sadness. Sadness if you hate Madonna or love Elvis. Joy if you love Madonna or hate Elvis. See?

This morning as I was checking my email, I scanned for things that looked personal and birthday-ish. Saw a note from my sister, and then I saw something about an e-card.

Now, the past month or so, I've had tons of spam masquerading as e-cards from friends, loved ones, and colleagues. Of course, they're always listed that way -- "A friend has sent you an e-card!" or "A relative has sent you a new card! Click here to read it!" or, "A co-worker has sent you a card!" Hmm. I don't have a job. Or friends. I know they're scams! I always delete these instantly, though if you scroll over the address they're from, they are usually from some spammer's address, not a legitimate site where a card might come from.

So, this morning, I found this one particularly amusing:

Your Worshipper has sent you Birthday postcard from superlaugh.com.

Click on your card's direct www address below: [insert fake link here]

My what? Hold on a second. The person who wrote this spam thing actually thinks people who read this will believe someone worships them? Well, I'm sure someone somewhere is narcissistic enough to be well on their way to having their hard drive infected with spyware at this very moment! Just not me.

OK, I do think that I'm being worshipped somewhere. Come out, worshippers! Show yourselves! We will restore the glory of the earth through my ministry!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bit related, but this morning I was thinking that this is my 34th birthday, which means I've lived longer than Jesus did. Then again, I didn't have a band of followers and change the world. I also didn't get crucified. Hmm. There's always this year, right?