Adventures in Baking

Yesterday I decided to stop wallowing in self-pity about the evil diet and to attempt to do some allergen-free baking. While reading recipes, I checked Hutton's allergy test results for the fifteenth time and realized SORGHUM was on there as well. For most people, living without sorghum is a no-brainer, but if you happen to be a diet that limits most grains, it's hard, because it's a gluten-free grain that is present in many gluten-free substitutes and recipes. But then, nothing to freak over. I'll just use millet instead.

I decide to attempt two recipes: a cookie and a muffin. The first attempt: an almond cookie recipe from the allergy-free cookbook. I mixed together almond butter, almond oil, almond extract, and almond - oh yeah, millet, and then some brown sugar. (I was pretending that Hutton doesn't have a yeast-problem, and that cookies won't feed yeast. Hey, they're decorating cookies for Valentine's Day in his class! I don't want him to suffer because of yeast!) The resulting "dough" was very crumbly, but I managed to press it together and form cookies out of it.

They came out of the oven, hot, crumbly, and somewhat tasty, looking like this:

The boys liked them, though, even though most of the cookies crumbled before making it to their mouths. That was part of the experience, though. Eat cookie, spread crumbs around counter and get them all over clothes.

Before I made the second batch, I mixed in an egg white, and the dough became much more doughy and actually kept some cookie form. The boys like those, too, plus they didn't leave crumbs everywhere. Ding! Write that down in the allergy cookbook -- ADD EGG.

Second attempt: a muffin, made from millet, oil, other stuff I can't recall. I mixed everything together, and it made a lovely batter. Looked like it might work. I filled a muffin tin with batter, and popped it in the oven. Checked on them at 15 minutes. Eh. More time. Checked on them again. Hmm, they look done. I took them out of the muffin tins. Hmm, why is there all this moisture left in the muffin tin? Why does the paper not come off the muffins well? Why does this muffin taste like ass? (Well, that's a guess. I haven't tasted ass, but it probably tastes a lot like the muffins.)


I thought I'd keep the scraps of muffin to attempt to make bread crumbs, and called my friend, the home economist supreme, for advice and muffin trouble-shooting. I read her the recipe over the phone, and her comments were, "Why didn't you use baking powder?" Huh? "Maybe you should try shortening instead of oil." OK. And, "I'll come over tomorrow and help you bake." YAY! (After tasting the muffin scraps today, they still tasted like ass, so they were trashed. My friend and I figured out it was the oil. Note to self: never use canola oil again for baking. Or make sure it's very fresh.)

Today Culinary Master came, looked through my pantry, and whipped up two batches of baked goods, using the same basic mix of millet, tapioca flour, almond meal, potato milk, ghee and almond oil. And BAKING POWDER. One half of the mix went into muffin tins, with blueberries and some sugar added; the other half of the mix was "drop biscuits" with some herbs thrown on top.

After several minutes of baking, the experimental baked goods emerged. The verdict: the muffins weren't very puffy, but were very tasty. The "drop biscuits" didn't look like biscuits, unless you're using the British sense of the word. Essentially, they looked like giant herb cookies. They were tasty, too, though.

Although the doctored recipes won't win any food beauty pageants, I will definitely try them again! Thank you, L, my culinary master! Did I mention L doesn't have gluten-free baking experience? Yes, she's a master!

So Much to Say

And not much of it is good.

I've stayed away for a few days, as I was in the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" frame of mind. No, I prefer to wallow in misery and let my depression stew for a few days before forcing it on my poor, undeserving (or is that underserving?) readers.

The misery and depression aren't so miserable and depressing today. Amazing what a day, and a double shot mocha (with whip) will do for you!

The pleasantly fading misery and depression stem from a few things, but they all involve a certain beloved first child. Yes, I love him unconditionally. No, it's nothing he did, but rather things involving him. See the difference?

Anyway, last week I received an email from Hutton's ABA consultant, who had emailed Hutton's primary megabitch er, teacher, wait, let's just say it's someone involved in Hutton's life several hours a week. This woman who shall remain nameless had emailed his ABA consultant about Hutton's behavior. ABA consultant had been in to observe Hutton's class a few times and recommend things to try for his bad behaviors. [That's what they do - Applied Behavioral Analysis. Kind of like a nicer version of Pavlovian conditioning. You show a child how to do something the right way, and give him lots of praise, or tokens, or treats, or he gets to play with a special toy, etc. if he does the "right" thing. For instance, if Hutton is working on a worksheet, and completes the worksheet, he may get a high five and a check mark on his chart, with the goal being after he gets five check marks, he gets to play with his trains. If he does something "wrong" -- tearing his worksheet and putting the paper in his mouth, let's say, very hypothetically. Cough. -- he is redirected to doing it the right way. The bad behaviors tend to be ignored, as if you punish them, that is often what the child is going for -- attention, and a chance to get out of what he doesn't want to do.]

Back to the story. So, the ABA consultant knew that this mystery woman (MW) didn't like having Hutton in her, uh, surroundings, and was not too keen on trying these ABA techniques for changing negative behaviors, but she still told MW that if she (ABA consultant) could help with any transitions to a new class she would. MW wrote back, in my best paraphrasing, with some of the choicest words in bold:

We are leaving Hutton's backpack in the bushes [he often throws his backpack in the bushes after he gets off the bus] so he doesn't get his snack for the day as a consequence. We reward all the other kids with crackers and telling them "Good job!" when they aren't ripping their papers, and ignore everything Hutton does unless it is harmful or affects other kids. Yesterday, Hutton was playing with the soap and got some in his eyes. I'm hoping he is smart enough to put the two together.

The rest of it mentions more of his bad behaviors, and how she knows I am weary of the school battle. Huh? I'm fine with school. Hutton is fine with school until he is treated like a dog, and worse than that, a very stupid dog.

Onto my mom bias. I know Hutton has challenging behaviors. Yeah, really. I deal with fights over getting him to drink his supplement-laced drinks every morning (damn, that TMG really smells bad, and Hutton sniffs everything before eating or drinking it! Guess he really doesn't need TMG that much today), his howls of protest when he doesn't want to do something he needs to do (get the bus, go to speech therapy, go downstairs for ABA therapy...), other assorted things here and there. But, I also know that Hutton is a very smart little boy who is perfectly capable of doing kindergarten level work. The trick is to make it enjoyable. Hmm. That's crazy, isn't it? Make kindergarten fun? You mean, so kids will like going to school for the next 12 years? Yeah, crazy.

And the point of Hutton being in kindergarten isn't to make him feel singled out as a stupid freak; strangely enough, he may get that idea when he's IGNORED and everyone else is rewarded for things he doesn't understand. Does he know they're getting crackers for not ripping papers? Maybe, but more likely he just sees other kids getting crackers, while he essentially sits ignored and hungry, because he doesn't get to have his snack, because his backpack is still in the bushes. But wait, how is he doing to make those connections if, as MW believes, he's not smart enough to realize that soap in your eyes hurts? GRRR.

I think his ABA consultant would point out that the whole idea is POSITIVE reinforcement of good behavior. Not punishment of bad behaviors. I realize punishment works to change behaviors, too, but that's not what we're looking for. I'm sure MW would love to be able to whip Hutton into submission, but that's just not going to happen in WA kindergarten. (I do remember being horrified when we moved to Tennessee and they had corporal punishment in the form of paddling at middle and high schools! No, I never was paddled. I was a good girl!) I've seen how well positive reinforcement works for Hutton. When I go crazy with praise after he writes his name on his homework sheet, the whole process goes so much more smoothly. Imagine that. Praise works better than my getting angry and frustrated. Who knew?

A few minutes after I got the forwarded email (e standing for EVIL), I got another email from MW, CCed to the ABA consultant and the director of special education at Hutton's school district.

Just to prove me wrong (or insane) Hutton has had much better days this week...He hasn't thrown his backpack since the day he missed out on snack. He has been willing to stay in his seat and do his work with a minimum of prompts. (And lots of crackers.) Let's stay on course and see how it goes!

So, right when I'm ready to get Hutton out this class ASAP, MW comes around to seeing how well he can behave. Of course, now I have to let her know we're doing a gluten, casein, corn, etc. free diet, and will have to provide them with some better reinforcers. I called the director of special education to discuss the situation, but haven't heard back from her yet. Needless to say, I still want Hutton out of crazy (hey, she said it herself!) Megabitch's class. But I don't know what his options are, and I've heard bad things about our neighborhood school from another parent. Sigh. It will all be fine. Eventually.

The other misery has been dietary. Hutton has been fine on the diet. I'm the one having trouble getting used to it. And Hubby (or Husband as I should call him, as Hubby sounds too cute and cheery for someone I'm still sorta pissed at) has problems with it as well.

Yesterday, as I was making the boys waffles (yes, Kim, I got the Trader Joe's ones!) and bacon, I was trying to get Hutton to drink his supplement juice. I made the mistake of putting the vitamins that smell in there (super nu thera and TMG), and Hutton wasn't going to drink his juice, which had the last of the lemonade in it, which is the best beverage for disguising the grapefruit seed extract I'm currently using to treat his yeast overgrowth. I was trying everything. "Hutton, you need to drink this so it will kill the yeast monster!" "Sweetie, if you drink this, you can have maple syrup on your waffles!" then quickly degenerating to, "Hutton, you will not scream at me. Go to your room until you calm down!" followed by, "Sweetie, please drink this! You won't be able to have any bacon unless you drink this! These supplements are really frickin' expensive!" Finally, after Husband came downstairs and offered the helpful, "Hutton, please drink your juice so Mommy will shut up," I dumped the drink, found some oranges to make orange juice with, and hid the grapefruit seed extract and a few other non-smelly vitamins in the o.j., which was readily accepted as drinkable by super-nosed boy. I then attempted to show him how to swallow capsules. No, that didn't work. I think I'll be leaving the smelly stuff out indefinitely, and sticking with the yummy, though not as nutritious or good for a yeast problem, chewable vitamins.

So, I was pissed at Husband after that remark, plus when he tried to say that we weren't doing anything fun all weekend, not because he had work to do (which he did) but because we couldn't go out to eat because of the diet. I decided to take the boys to the park after a delightful GFCFetc. lunch to prove him wrong. Husband wheedled his way into going to the park with us, then went to work that afternoon.

Another incident at the park added to my weekend funk. We saw a boy from Hutton's class. I spoke to the mom briefly about our plans for school for next year, while avoiding talking about a certain teacher at all costs. The boy from class pointed out that Hutton didn't pump well on the swing. OK. A few minutes later, another boy from Hutton's class showed up. I attempted to talk to the moms, who are obviously better friends than I am with either of them, for a few minutes, while watching their sons come up with some super-imaginative play scheme involving the jungle gym as a submarine, and going into the boiler room to check for leaks, and spotting dolphins through the periscope, etc. Hutton preferred to just play on the jungle gym as a jungle gym, and I quickly excused myself to spot Harrison on another jungle gym, feeling left out and sorry for myself, and sad that Hutton wasn't playing "the right way" with two boys from his class.

Today, in my less-miserable state of mind, I realize that the two boys aren't autistic (well, I know one isn't, and I'm pretty sure if the other one is, he's super high-functioning, as he came up and asked me my name and proceeded to call me by name for several minutes), and they are friends outside of school, so probably play better together anyway. If Hutton's friends from school who have autism were there, it may have been a different story, or if his friend Amy were there...Who knows?

Oh, and I was just PMSing. A classic excuse for misery and depression!

Bye-Bye Betsy

This morning, as I was driving home from Hutton's speech therapy, I saw a flyer for "Betsy" - the dog we found last night. I called her owner, and he came right over. He only lives a few blocks away, and they just moved here, so Betsy probably didn't remember where she lived.

Oh, her real name is Willow. The boys seem to have taken her leaving in stride.

Never a Dull Moment

BetsySally

This evening, I decided I couldn't wait any longer, and had to make another grocery store run. I'm out of milk, which means I can't drink my double lattes in the morning. I substituted almond milk today, and let me just say...NO. Don't try that again.

So, I got the boys in the car. Well, first I disassembled Hutton's carseat, because he's 41 pounds now, and therefore too big for the harness on the carseat, so it was time to convert it to a booster. I didn't realize what all this entailed until I attempted to take the harness off the carseat. Thirty minutes, a screwdriver, and some baby wipes later, we were back in business. Off to get groceries.

I pulled up to the stop sign at the end of my street, and saw a dog run across the busy road, narrowly being missed by a car. I got out of my car, and the dog came running up, and very sweetly licked my hand. I checked its collar. No tags. After looking around for possible owners for a few minutes, I got the dog into the car, and headed off to the grocery store again. Spent an hour in the grocery store, looking at all the possible foods. Found some cereal, more rice tortillas, rice pasta, and even rice pizza crust! (Well, rice and potato.) I then came home, stopping by the stable across the street to see if anyone knew the dog in the back of my car. No luck.

So, "Betsy," as Hutton has dubbed her, made herself at home, had some dog food with Sally and Fergus, and is currently being chased around by the boys. For some reason, a strange, new dog is very much more exciting than the dogs we already have. Betsy has been getting many pats.

I made the new pizza crust, with marinara sauce, spinach, basil and grated carrots on top. (No dairy in the new diet, remember?) The boys both ate it, and I found it acceptable. Not the best fake pizza I've ever had, but not any worse than the regular crappy frozen pizza Hubby likes!

Now, I'll try to make a "Found Dog" flyer, but our printer is pretty crappy, so I don't know if they'll turn out OK. We'll see!



Betsy and Fergus waiting for dropped food
"Pizza"
Hutton
Harrison and Tully

I May Get Myself a Cane, or Carry An Umbrella at All Times

This morning on the news, I heard that the Seattle Police Department were going to give an old guy a new cane. Not too newsworthy, unless you read this.

So, some crazy guy tries to light an old man on fire, and ends up getting whacked with a cane! Guess he didn't see that coming. Now if only the two women he lit on fire had had canes or umbrellas. Watch out!

Good job, Gus! Enjoy your new cane, and feel free to beat the whippersnappers when they try to attack. I think I'll pass this on to my 82-year-old great-uncle who nearly broke a hip after Christmas. See how useful canes can be?

Update on Evil Diets

I started to write this in response to Allie's comment on the previous post, then it got long I decided to add it as its own post!

So, the gist is, we're trying to continue the gluten and casein-free (GFCF) diet with Hutton. It's a common treatment for kids with Autism, as they tend to have digestive issues with the proteins in gluten and casein, as is the case with Hutton! We've been on the diet off and on for several years. I know Hutton has problems with milk, but I've tried adding back gluten, and he seemed to be fine, but his test results prove otherwise. Now we have the added challenge of avoiding yeast-feeding foods (sugar, fruit and fruit juices, simple carbs, vinegar, etc.) due to the discovery of Hutton's yeast overgrowth (he had this before, so I guess the Nystatin he took for several months a year ago did nothing) AND we also have to avoid some newly discovered food allergies -- the big ones being CORN and EGG YOLK. Hey, at least it's not the whites, too, as I thought yesterday! Phew. That give me one more thing to work with now that the a world of cook books and restaurants are closed to me.

Today I went grocery shopping by myself, so I could spend over an hour scouring the store for possible foods. This was after doing research on many online groups for food ideas. Pretty much anything that involves packaging is a no-go for some reason or another! I did find some potato chips (though probably not too great for a yeast-fighting diet, as it's a simple carb), rice spaghetti, rice cakes, frozen waffles and an Indian lentil dish that were free of everything we need to avoid. The rest of the cart was meat, vegetables, some nuts and seeds, and some chocolate for myself that I'll hide somewhere. I'm going to go to another store tomorrow and see if I can find more.

I'm feeling much better after reading up today. It just seems very overwhelming at first, and then there are many foods I think are OK, until I read some new reason to avoid it. I'm worried that Hutton will be getting too much rice now and will develop problems with it. I think that's what happened with corn -- no gluten, but if it's the go-to food of choice in nearly every meal and snack (Ting's and Pirate Booty, I'll miss you!) it's too much. If it's not corn itself (sob - we love Mexican food, but won't be going out for it anytime!), so many things are sweetened with corn syrup, or have corn starch, or have dextrose. That was true for many packaged and even frozen items. Things would look great, until I'd see corn starch or dextrose listed as the last ingredient. I try to avoid soy as well, which is present in many foods.

The bright side is that it's possible for the gut to heal and for foods that were once problematic to be added back into the diet, so I'll hope that will be the case down the road for us with corn.

We started out the day with waffles Hubby made from a GFCF mix we had buried in the back of the cabinet, and some bacon. No syrup. We lied and told Hutton we ran out. He ate more bacon than waffles, and Hubby didn't even taste the waffles, but I did and found them acceptable. They would have been better with maple syrup, but what can you do? Lunch was chicken nuggets (not really acceptable because of the corn in the coating, but I figured I'd get them out of the house faster this way, and it's not like we need to go cold turkey, right?). Hutton asked for honey. Hmm. Sorry, Bud, it looks like we're out of honey, too! Mommy is a bad, bad person, lying again. This was upsetting to Hutton, who told me we need to go buy honey and syrup. OK, kid, I'll get right on that! I double-checked everything in the fridge and cabinets for acceptable nugget dips. Mustard? Nope - vinegar. Ketchup? Ditto, plus the Heinz has corn syrup. Soy sauce we've had in the fridge for several years? Wrong on many fronts. I finally gave the boys some of my squash soup to dip their nuggets in. Hey, I thought it tasted good, and it was dietarily acceptable!

Tomorrow I'll do a roast with vegetables in the crock pot for dinner. I have to come up with some sort of stock or seasoning to add. And I don't have any cereal for the boys - Trader Joe's did not have any rice cereal! Could be a sign Hutton is already getting too much rice, huh? Guess we'll have waffles again, or I'll try to get Hutton to eat an egg white omelet. Who knows? Sometimes he surprises me.

One of Those Days

I woke up late, and scrambled to get the boys fed and myself dressed in time to get to ABA therapy on time. I was about 5 minutes late. Not too bad.

After a long discussion with the ABA consultant about Hutton's school situation (she observed him in class last week) we're going to go with the approach of my calling the Special Education Director of the school district, who also observed Hutton in class last week. Whatever the director wants to do, I'm going to push for it to be done as quickly as possible, then the ABA consultant can meet with teachers and come up with methods for them to use with Hutton. We'll see...

After that, we had lunch, then drove south to see Hutton's doctor to go over test results from his latest round of many, many tests of various bodily fluids. The results: Hutton has yeast (uggh), bacteria dysbiosis, and allergies to things I feared, namely corn. So, in addition to using various new supplements to fight yeast and help heal his gut, he's going on a yeast-free diet, as well as cutting corn and eggs, which are in addition to the gluten and casein (basically wheat and dairy) he can't have, which we already have been working on. The yeast-free diet wipes out the other mainstays of Hutton's diet - fruit, and condiments or sauces that make it possible for him to eat the meats I give him. He loves honey on his chicken nuggets. Well, both of those are out - I haven't found any gluten and corn-free nuggets, and I've heard that they're very difficult to make from scratch (well, if you want them to be edible, that is). The honey feeds yeast. Hotdogs? He likes the nitrate-free hotdogs, but loves them with ketchup. We'll see if he'll still eat them, condiment-free. They have gluten-free waffles Hutton likes, but will he eat them without syrup? We'll see! If not, he can have bacon. He will eat some salad, but he's never had it sans dressing. He does like carrots. So, we can feed him all the carrots, potatoes and meat he'll eat. Yee-haw.

Basically, I'm wallowing in self-pity because this means no more eating out for four months. Eating out is the highlight of my weekend. Oh well. I'll have plenty of time now to enjoy cooking in the kitchen. Wait, I hate cooking. The only things I like to cook are cookies and other things Hutton won't be able to eat. I also hate going to the grocery store, which will now be a much more frequent occurrence, since Hutton will essentially be on a cave-man diet of fresh vegetables and meat for the next four months. Did I mention I hate cooking? So, if Hutton's going to be on the diet, the rest of us will, too, cause I sure as hell am not going to make two of every meal for four months.

Hutton also has some mercury, arsenic and lead according to the special porphyrins test we did. So, after four months of yeast-killing and gut-healing, we'll re-test and then do some chelation.

Sigh. One day at a time, right?

Oh, and Sally, the evil bitch sweet dog had gone several days without any accidents, so I put the rugs back down. See, she slides all over the hardwood floors when there are no rugs to provide traction, since her hind legs are still a bit unstable, so I put the rugs (or what's left of them, after being washed a hundred times) back down. Tonight as I was stressing out about Hutton while making a meal we won't be able to eat again for the next several months (a last supper, if you will) I noticed one of the rugs was reflecting the light in a peculiar way. Because Sally had peed on it. Less than an hour after going outside to do her business. Of course, she managed to high-tail it up the stairs, part dragging her hindlegs, to get away from me and hide when she realized I was yelling, "Sally! Goddammit!" I half-carried/half dragged her downstairs and put her in her crate, then threw the rug in the wash. Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths, Laura.

Confessions

My confession of the day:

I LOVE JANE EYRE! OK, that's not really a surprise. After all, it's the first book listed in my "favorite books" in my profile. I just checked to make sure it was on there, and sure enough, it's there.

I say this because last night I stayed up til 1 am watching the Masterpiece Theatre version of Jane Eyre. Or, the first part, at least. Now I have to wait until Sunday to watch the exciting conclusion. Can I wait that long? I already know how it ends, having read the book several times, but it's still so fun to see it in action.

I watched J.E. while knitting. Prior to J.E., I watched Grey's Anatomy. And American Idol. Now if that's not a good chick evening, I don't know what it is.

Oh yes, and Toby Stephens, who played Rochester in J.E., is pretty darn good looking, too. Though of course, Jane doesn't find him handsome. You'll remember that from the book, right? I was staring at Toby, trying to figure out where I knew him from. I looked him up online, and found out where I knew him from -- he starred in a play I saw the summer after my junior year in college, when I went to London for a theatre class. Yep, I remembered watching him and having a crush on him after seeing him in "Coriolanus." This was also the summer I saw Jude Law in the nude in "Les Parents Terribles" and Jeremy Northam in "Love's Labour's Lost." Ahh, good times. I had moved past my crushes on Law and Northam long ago, before Jude screwed the nanny, and Northam stopped showing up in random parts here and there (I last spotted him in Emma.) And, sad to say, I'd forgotten all about you, Toby Stephens. See, I don't have a framed print of the play you were in hanging in the TV room. I just bought you in post card size, from the Royal Shakespeare Company store. You were in my college room right next to the shrine to Kenneth Branagh, if it makes you feel better. Oh, and since you don't know I exist, I guess hearing that I forgot about you for 13 years, before rediscovering you in Jane Eyre, probably doesn't hurt too badly.
I won't even bring up Daniel Craig. Yummy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Update: I saw the exciting conclusion last night. Sigh. What is it about British guys with mutton chop sideburns? I tried to convince Hubby, who hasn't had time to get a haircut in a while, to either let me give him a buzzcut with the clippers or to just grow out his hair and let his hair and sideburns get really bushy. He didn't take me up on the clippers. Maybe if he sees this hot picture he'll change his mind about needing a haircut.



Oh, and for my British reader (That would be you, Lisa!), why in the world is the name St. John, which as an American, I read in my head as Saint John, pronounced Sinjen? I was highly confused for a few moments until I realized this was the weird British pronunciation. Oh well, I guess since a British woman wrote the book, I'll have to accept that Sinjen is the "correct" way to say St. John.

Closing the Barn Door After the...

...[Insert chosen farm animal that lives in a barn here] is already out.

That's the theme that came to mind, as well as, "Huh?" when I read the following on the back of a...cough...feminine-related item I purchased today. OK, it was a box of spermicidal contraceptives. How's that for TMI? You know now that I'm either using birth control, or buying it, "just in case."

Anyway, here's the information:

Do not use if you are pregnant or think you may be pregnant.

OK. Let's see, if you're pregnant, you probably don't need to use spermicide as birth control. A bit late for that. See the above phrase.

The "think you may be pregnant" part is a little more understandable, but still, are you going to take a pregnancy test before using this, just in case? Spermicide, like all birth control other than abstinence, isn't completely reliable, so there's always a chance you could be pregnant if you're using spermicide, unless, say, a certain aunt is visiting or you just gave birth to a baby moments before. You can be pretty sure then you're not pregnant, but, other than that, you can never be completely sure you're not pregnant. You could be at that stage where you're pregnant, but can't confirm it with a test yet. Anyway, if some really neurotic person is reading the package, this could cause her lots of angst. "Oh no! I think I may be pregnant, but Honey-Cakes wants to have sex. We've been using spermicide, but it's not 100% effective, and I'm not supposed to use it if I think I might be pregnant. I don't have any pregnancy tests, and even if I did, I won't show as a positive even if I am pregnant for another few weeks." You see the dilemma really neurotic people could go through, don't you? No, I'm not a really neurotic person, just able to think like one to write a blog post that asks the tough questions. Cough. Yeah. Tough questions.

Continuing to quote the package:

If pregnant or breast-feeding, ask a health professional before use.

Oh, gimme a freaking break!

Flippin' and Trickin'

Sunday night as I was flipping through the channels to see what was on, (and this was less than the normal amount, since our satellite dish is only getting half of what it should - Hubby, get on that, please!) I saw a show listed on the guide on the DIY channel called Tricked Out. Sounded interesting, for some reason, so I flipped over to DIY, and found it was a show about tricking out your car. Hmm.

Now my 2003 VW Jetta station wagon is slammin' already, so I don't really need to trick it out. I mean, it already has a new transmission from last month. Oh wait, that's not what tricking out your car is about. No, it's about adding all sorts of neat accessories to your car -- lighted wheel wells, wiper lights, and lights that shine messages on the rims when your car is moving were some of the oh-so-exciting things I saw on Sunday.

I just thought the show was kind of funny. I mean, the things I'm interested in for tricking out a car are mostly for comfort or making driving easier (see, a working transmission is kinda important there): heated seats and a GPS would be my tricks of choice. For the aesthetics, I'd go for not having road grime all over my car 99% of the time, and as little visible rust, dents and scratches as possible. So, in my view of trickery, my car is only very slightly tricked out, with the heated seats part. Oh, yeah, I used to have an Autism Awareness puzzle ribbon magnet trickin' out the rear end, but Hubby took my car through a carwash a few months ago and it disappeared in the wash. So, not much trickin' on my car, thanks.

I had already forgotten about the show when I was driving around town with Harrison yesterday. I ended up behind a small black car at a traffic light. The first thing I noticed was the "shocker" hand symbol on the bumper. It was very tastefully done in white on black, so blended in with the black bumper. Yeah, tasteful, that's it. Next, I noticed that the car was a Ford Focus. The Ford part was on the emblem. The Focus part I got from the custom brake light. Yes, someone tricked out his car so I could know it was a - WOW! - Focus. Well, it could have been an Aspire. That's one of the funniest names for an entry-level car, as in, "Aspire to drive a better car." I guess you can "Focus on driving a better car" with the Focus.*

The traffic light soon turned green, and the Focus took off like a shot, making lots of loud revving noises. Then it braked like a shot, with the "Focus" on the brake light lighting up again. (We were in three o'clock traffic, which is always stop and go in the downtown areas. Yes, it starts at 3 around here, aren't we lucky?) As I was stopped behind the car the second time, I noticed the dark tinted windows. I could barely tell anything about the driver, other than I assumed he was a super cheezeball (no offense, Gouda! This is cheeze with a "z"!) from the car he drove. I also noticed the enormous tailpipe, which I assumed was the cause of the loud revving noises. I could make a comment about how his large tailpipe was to make up for failings in other areas, but I try not to get all Freudian on my reader. If I hadn't had errands to run, and turned into the Home Depot, I'm sure I could have stopped and started behind Focus Guy a lot more and enjoyed his tailpipe music.

*Now, you may think I'm a car snob, but I'm not. I've driven my share of entry-levels cars: the 10 year old Honda Civic was my first car, then I moved on to a brand-spanking new Ford Escort for the 500 mile drive to college. I just think there's something silly in tricking out an entry-level car. I mean, you're investing all this money in cheezy lights so people know you're driving a Focus, when you could invest the money instead and buy yourself a nicer car in another year.

If anyone who has a tricked out car cares to comment, please do. Tell me about all the hot chicks you're getting, and how they like the shocker.

Dolphins? I LOVE Dolphins!

Um, it's OK to love dolphins, but it's not OK to love dolphins.

I think this chick is a little too much into the ride. The dolphin seems to be enjoying it too, though. Is that its "O" face?


I guess I can't judge them, since I have yet to discover my "dolphin nature." I think this is what sailors really saw when they thought they saw mermaids. That makes a lot more sense to me than thinking a flipping manatee is part woman/part fish.

The Snow Turns to Slush

And on the sixth day, the snow clouds departed and the weather warmed a tiny bit, and the snow started to melt. And the bus came, and it was good.

Yep, I'm back to having only one rugrat to wrestle for 3 hours in the afternoon. Hallelujah! My morning still started out badly though. Today Fergus, the favorite son (dog) no more, puked all over the kitchen floor. Thanks, Ferg. After mopping that up, I called upstairs to Hutton to come get dressed. Hubby told me, "I don't think he feels well! He threw up on the carpet up here!" Uh, no. That would be more Fergus vomit.

Please, can I call a vomitorium moratorium on bodily fluids on my rugs and floors for a while?

Last night Hubby came upstairs before bed and said Sally was whimpering but it was because of the washing machine. "What are you washing?" I asked, as Hubby doesn't do laundry. "Sally peed on the rug," he said. "You mean the last rug that hadn't been peed on?" See, we have three rugs in the same pattern in the hall and kitchen downstairs. The first one was peed on a while back. Hubby washed it in the washing machine, and the underside shrunk up, but the top wool part stayed the same, so the rug wouldn't lie flat anymore. I cut up the under lining, and now it lies flat, but is really lumpy. Sally peed on the second of these rugs this weekend. Wash rug in machine, have it lumpy and bumpy. And repeat with the last of the rugs. For some reason, hearing about the last of the rugs getting ruined made me sad. I said, "Oh well, at least the rugs have lasted 8 years. That's a lot in a house of kids and pets." For some reason, Hubby took this as some kind of affront to him, and said, "Well, you can either have rugs or dogs. Which is it?" I just shrugged.

Don't worry, I'll have my rugs and the dogs that ruin them, too. I'll remind Hubby that if we can't afford to replace peed-out worn out rugs, we shouldn't be able to afford the nice office chair and handheld Dyson vacuum he just bought for his office, either.

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

Today FedEx came by while I was outside with Sally. She barked, but I left her lying in the snow and told the FedEx guy she was incapacitated, so not to worry about her. (He had the "Oh yeah, it's that scary black dog who always barks at me" look.) He handed me a package addressed to Sally, of all things. Inside was a dog sling that my ever-so-thoughtful mother-in-law sent. Seriously, this woman is great. My mom pretends to care that Sally had surgery, but my MIL actually does care, as she has pets. The sling is so much easier to use than a towel to help support a 60-pound dog! I strapped it on Sally immediately, and could help her walk with just one hand holding her up. If I had known a sling was that helpful, I would have bought one before Sally even came home. The highlight of my day so far!

Cabin Fever...and Poop

School was canceled again today. It snowed a bit. Just enough to add to the snow we already have and mess up the roads.

Hutton hasn't been in school since last Tuesday. He hasn't been in speech therapy since last Tuesday. He's had his AIT and ABA, but the rest of the time has been spent playing Cars on Xbox or watching Cars on DVD. Well, that and making sure there is a new train track layout in the playroom.

I'm feeling a bit stir crazy, but don't really want to go out if there's ice on the road. I'm a bad inexperienced ice/snow driver. As are most of the rest of the residents of the Puget Sound area, according to the wrecked cars on the sides of the roads we saw this weekend.

I really need to go to the grocery store, too. That's always so much more fun with both boys. Heavy sarcasm there. Hey, we still have dry pasta in the house, and frozen chicken. I'm sure Hubby would love to have yet another dinner of pasta, or some chicken with rice dish.

On the plus side, Sally has been peeing AND pooping outside! Yippee! We're still using a towel to help carry her, but she's supporting more of her weight now. This brings me to a "fun" story from this weekend, when Sally didn't pee or poop outside, but waited until coming back in out of the snow to do her business. Nothing too bad though. I was in the shower, so Hubby dealt with cleanup. Great. But then later Sunday I had a screaming tantrum little talk with Hubby about not putting dog poop in the Diaper Champ. [For the non-initiated, a Diaper Champ is a receptacle for dirty diapers that helps keep them from smelling up the house. We still keep ours in the garage, though because diaper pails smell once your child starts eating food. It involves placing a diaper in the top and flipping the handle, which causes the diaper to plummet into the trash bag below, without any further touching of the dirty diaper. Hey, I got it when Hutton was a baby, before I realized diaper pails are a waste of money and that it would be easier and less smelly to just put the diapers in a grocery bag then dump them in the outside trash can.]

Hubby and I don't see eye to eye on poop/Diaper Champ issues as it is. I always dump a poopy diaper in the toilet before putting it in the Champ. He always just shoves it in. And none-too-carefully I might add. I like to make sure NO POOP is anywhere on the outside of the Champ. Why? Not because I'm anal, but because having poop anywhere where I might come into contact with it on my clothes or bare hands is nasty, that's why!

~~~~~~~~~~TMI Time~~~~~~~~~
So, Sunday afternoon, Harrison had a particularly fun diaper, and after dumping it in the toilet, I wrapped it up carefully and took it out to the garage. I placed it in the top of the Champ, pressed down (if you don't press down, sometimes the previous diaper hasn't gone into the bag yet, so when you turn the handle, you're greeted by an old diaper), and turned the handle. Hmm. It was stuck. I decided to open the Champ to make sure it wasn't full.

Holy shit! What is that horrific smell? Why is there poop smeared all over the...Wait, is that a paper towel with...dog poop? Yep, Hubby had placed a paper-towel wrapped, big dog turd in the top of the Champ. Needless to say, when he flipped it, the paper towel got caught, and the doo did not stay wrapped in the paper towel, but smeared everything in it's vicinity. As I gagged and attempted to clean up most of the mess, my fury grew. After scrubbing my hands, I went upstairs to throw my hissy fit talk to Hubby. It seemed to work. Hubby "cleaned and refurbished" the Champ. It involved taking things apart and 20 minutes of cleaning.

Did I mention Sally's on antibiotics? Those do wonders for a dog's poop.

Pets Are Almost as Much Trouble as Kids

Almost. Today we picked Sally up from the pet hospital. She still can't walk on her own, but we figured she'd be happier at home and it wouldn't be that much trouble getting her outside to pee. Plus, getting her out today meant only about $4500 total for her surgery and stay, instead of adding more money for every day of vet checks, physical therapy, etc.

We got her bed set up downstairs with some pads for her to pee on. She pretty much crawled off the bed as soon as possible, and dragged herself across the floor to Hutton's room to be with us when we went in there to do Hutton's AIT session this afternoon. I thought that was cute until I noticed she'd peed on the carpet. Grr. I then set up the pet kennel with the top off, so she wouldn't feel closed off, but can't crawl around after us, peeing wherever she wants.

And the idea that it wouldn't be trouble to get her outside to pee -- that would be completely wrong. After the dogs ate dinner, I attempted to lift Sally out of her crate, and realized that she's pretty darn heavy. Bitch weighs 60 pounds. No, that's not nearly as much as what I weigh, but if I needed someone to carry me to a toilet, I could at least help support my weight by grabbing their neck or something. Strangely enough, Sally isn't much help. I tried a sling approach - putting a towel under her and pulling up on both ends. Once I got her out of her crate, she was able to help a little, lifting her feet so they wouldn't drag on the ground as I tugged her outside. We made it 5 feet from the front door onto the front walk, and I pretty much dropped her butt in the snow, while supporting her front half. Strangely enough, this wasn't Sally's idea of a relaxing good time, and she didn't relieve herself. So, after a few minutes of holding her up while she didn't pee or poop, I dragged her back inside, then yelled for Hubby to put her back in her crate. I got her out a second time about an hour later, and that was equally hard, and yet again, she didn't pee or poop.

Seriously, she is like a 60 pound sand bag, but not in one piece. Imagine a 30 pound sand bag with three other ten pound sandbags sewn on at random spots, and you get the idea. I never realized how much of a wimp I was until now. I mean, I've got pretty good mom arms from lifting the boys, but it doesn't compare to dog-lifting. So, to all the vet techs out there, I commend you on the skill you show at the surprisingly difficult task of dog-lifting.

As the boys were getting ready for bed, Tully the cat jumped on the bathroom counter. I decided it would be a good time to clean her chin. She has some crusty junk on there that the vet said to scrub with a washcloth. I'd done it before without too much trouble, but tonight Tully attempted to get away, I grabbed her by the neck to keep her from falling into the trash can, and she bit me in the process. She chomped down on my index finger, underneath the nail, and YOWZA that hurt. I have it wrapped as tight as I can in a bandaid, to make the throbbing less intense. I really don't want my fingernail to get all purple, but I'm not very hopeful at this point.

Hmm. Aren't pets supposed to be such a great calming influence in our lives? Still waiting for that. Just kidding, furry children, I love you all, even when you cause me intense pain.
Sally, the good side
The Franken-dog side
Evil Tully lurking around after maiming me
The Favorite Son sleeping

Feeling Happier and Here's Why

Well, it's really because of the fine cup of coffee I'm drinking (really a double shot latte), but this brightened my day as well.

It ended up in my junk email somehow. The from field and subject of the email were:
vibrators snatching
agility dog


Already I'm feeling good. It would have been funny as "vibrator-snatching agility dog" as well, but I'll take what the random word generator gives me.

Of course with that to start with, I HAD to read the email attached.

Here are the best parts:

Bible astrology shop franchise. Elton racist overtime overseen cuffed ticket? Bono fucking brilliant globes janet jacksons globe. Spider superman villain collector achieve, look, work, upcoming birth. Stacy yaz large crafters choice saddle. Package parenting self coupon rainbow. Failed fees gnutella creators similar products, kazaas!

Yeah, it's pretty sad when this cheers me up more than the beautiful sight out my window:

Funk Day

I've had a blah day. Been in a funk pretty much since dawn, and it's not the funky kind of funk, either. I should put on some Parliament and turn the funk upside down. But that would ruin this perfect "depression lite" I've got going.

I know my hormones and lady bidness have something to do with it, but it's also cold, and snowy. The snow looks very nice, and cheered me up briefly when I crunched through it to get the mail, but when I got back inside to crazy boys 1 and 2, that went away. Plus, Hubby called at 4:30, and said he'd be staying late at work because the snow had fouled up the roads. Great. Another day AND night of solo parenting.

I kept Hutton home from school today, because he was throwing a hissy fit, rubbing his eyes and whining after ABA therapy this morning. I stopped the hissy fit by adjusting his eyelid for him -- all the rubbing had flipped a quarter of his eyelid inside out and he was screaming until I convinced him to let me look at it. Fun. Since we're doing the AIT this week, I've been driving Hutton to and from school, but today was not going well, already, and the AIT therapist didn't want to have to come back at 3 and risk getting stuck on the snowy roads, so I said I'd just keep Hutton home and he could come back earlier. Great. Crisis averted. A mellow day at home. Perfect.

Except when I emailed Hutton's teacher to tell her he was being very whiny and probably wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be at school, she emailed me back to say that he was whiny all the time at school and she didn't think his feeling bad really affected that. Then she went on to reiterate that Hutton doesn't need to be in her class, she'd had his previous preschool teachers out to observe and they were all "disappointed" in his behavior, she was going to have the director of special education out to observe him, and did I have any thoughts on this?

Great. So, after I burst into tears reading the email, I thought for a moment and emailed her back telling her I was fine with any placement for Hutton as long as it's not the contained class at our neighborhood school, because that class is all non-verbal kids and will not be good for Hutton at all. We'll see. With any luck, the special education director will find a better placement for Hutton, but since the transition class he's currently in was "the best place" for him before, and there's not another transition class, I'm not that positive. I just know I'm not going to lie down and take whatever crappy situation they throw at me because his teacher suggests it. Nope, his teacher is not on my "favorite person" list, probably because she's written off Hutton from day one as being too immature for her class. Hey, lady, it's KINDERGARTEN. You want maturity from a class of kindergarten kids? Well, I'm sure without Hutton it will be like an intro psych class. All the kids will explore their feelings and grow as spiritual beings once that immature brat is gone! She always tries to make me feel better about Hutton by pointing out that he's only five. Yeah, I know. Five is the age the school district assigns to KINDERGARTEN. Just because all of the other parents held their kids back, doesn't make my child too immature for kindergarten. They kick you out of the special ed preschool after two years. That's why we moved on to kindergarten. Oh well.

Back to my funk. I've been eating like a pig all day. I really need those doggy diet pills now.

And speaking of dogs, Sally is still not moving well. The vet called today and said she's a slow healer, and since so much muscle tissue was affected by the surgery, it was taking longer than they'd thought it would for her to be able to get around on her own. So Sally is still at the hospital, which is charging us daily about the price of a night at a nice hotel to feed our dog and take her out in the special doggy wheelchair cart. I can't really visit her either, because the area she's in is crowded with recovering pets and medical equipment. Imagine bringing in your two-year-old. Or better yet, your two-year-old AND your five-year-old. Yeah, they're very patient and never want to touch the expensive equipment. Since the hospital is 25 minutes away, it's not an easy little trip to do when Hubby comes home either. Sally, I love you, but the last thing I want to do after putting the boys to bed is get in the car and drive nearly half an hour.

Sigh. Time to get the boys in bed and start drinking heavily. Just kidding. Sort of.

Snake Oil Treatment and "I Love You"s

Hutton started Auditory Integration Therapy last week, or as Hubby refers to it, Snake Oil Treatment. AIT involves listening to music through headphones for 30 minutes, twice a day for ten days. The music is all blended together in some weird way I don't understand. Yeah, Hubby doesn't really think it does anything, but I'm willing to try most anything if it's covered by insurance and can't hurt. It's not like I'm taking Hutton into a viper pit and telling him to trust God to pull him through.

Mike, the guy who comes out to do the therapy (watch Hutton wear his headphones for 30 minutes) is very interesting, though. He trained under Guy Berard in France, and has told me lots of good stories. Apparently Dr. Berard is able to drink most of a bottle of red wine at lunch and still hike up a mountain afterward. Mike wants to retire someplace other than the rainy, dreary Pacific NW soon. He's lived in Australia, but apparently Australia and New Zealand don't want any more old people, as they don't give visas to retirees. Who knew?

Mike was telling me Monday about talking to Temple Grandin after a speech she had given. They discussed the idea of humor, as Temple had several jokes in her presentation. Temple said she never knew what other people would find funny, as she never really gets jokes that others do. So Mike asked her how she knew what to say. Temple said she would just keep the things that got a laugh. If there was no response from the audience, she'd take the joke out the next time. Seems like a pretty good plan, even for the non-autistic giving speeches.

Mike has been very good for my "Hutton's Autism Level Ego" -- meaning, he's always commenting on Hutton's verbal skills being very good, or saying that Hutton seems like he's more Aspergerish than autistic. Before I had a child with Autism, I don't think I would have taken having someone tell me my son acts like he has Asperger's Syndrome as a compliment, but now I sure do!

Speaking of (writing of) Asperger's Syndrome, I read this weekend that Burt Bacharach and Angie Dickenson's daughter, Nicky, "quietly and peacefully committed suicide to escape the ravages to her brain" last Thursday. Nicky had Asperger's Syndrome, as well as poor vision, which had kept her from following her dream of being a geologist. Very sad. I don't think I'd ever consider committing suicide "quiet and peaceful" though. Seems more anguished and desperate to me. Again, very sad.

Enough sadness. Back to the idea of humor. That is hard for me, to think that Hutton, like Temple Grandin, may not be able to understand what others find funny. I have a great sense of humor. (Yes, I'm biased.) Seriously. I love to laugh, and tend to go for sarcasm and black humor. I think it's going to be hard to have a child who will never "get" the same things I do. Well, I'm kind of jumping ahead of myself, I know. At least Hutton laughs at "normal" humor. Today we were watching Cars. The scene in which Lightning McQueen wrecks the main street of Radiator Springs causes Hutton to laugh hysterically, and then he wants to rewind it several times. It is a funny scene, I'll grant him that!

To end this random post, I will add an AWESOME verbal exchange I had with Hutton today as we were watching Cars:

ME: This is a funny movie isn't it? [And because Hutton looked so happy and cute] I love you, Hutton! [Harrison had fallen asleep by this point, so didn't get an, "I love you."]
HUTTON: I love you, too, Mommy!
ME: OMFG! I can't believe you said that!

OK, I didn't say the last part. I was just thinking it. I praised Hutton for the great sentence. Because, really, it was a very good sentence, even without the meaning. I would have been excited by him repeating, "I love you," as he normally gets by with short sentences, but to add the "too" and "Mommy" put me over the moon!

When Diet and Exercise Fail...

...Or aren't tried at all.

I give you.......drum roll.......... drugs for obese dogs!

That's right, now your fat dog can skip the diet and exercise that are just so hard. For you, that is. I mean, if you're going to put your dog on a diet, that means no more treats! But Schmoopsie is just soo cute! I can't resist! And taking my dog for a walk? That means I have to walk, too! And hey, if I'm going to...gulp...exercise, I'd rather do it at the gym once a month, not everyday walking with puppy.

I particularly liked this part of the story: "If you're going to spend 15 minutes, spend it walking your dog instead of cleaning up diarrhoea." Hmm. Yeah, that would be my choice, I think.

Of course, I rarely walk my own dogs. We have an invisible fence, so the dogs just go out to run several times a day. Well, Fergus does. Sally's still in the hospital, and won't be running for a while, since she still can't walk. She's using two of her four legs now, so that's something! I'm not sure when she's coming home, but I think it's going to involve some exercise for me, as well - helping support a 60 pound dog with a sling while she walks. Hey, I can use the exercise. And I've never been a good dieter. You know what, those dog drugs sound pretty nice, actually.

Can I Retire from Stay At Home Momming?

Really, it's OK. I like being a Stay At Home Mom. Well, some of the time. It's not like there's another job I'd rather do that someone would hire me for. There are weeks like this one that just exhaust me, though. I guess being on vacation for two weeks was enough that I fell out of Stay At Home Shape. Who knew sitting around eating bonbons took energy? Ha.

Yesterday was OK - the end of the school week for Hutton, but he hit his speech therapist in the morning, then was "extra curious" when he came home from school -- a nice way of saying he was causing me to curse and pull my hair out. One moment he was playing nicely with blocks, so I left the room to decalcify my espresso machine (yeah, it's been a rough week!) and I heard the toilet flush. I went in to check on Hutton and make sure he was washing his hands, when I found him gazing into the freshly flushed toilet holding an empty plastic container that once held 26+ little foam letters. He looked at me with a face that says, "Yeah, I know I'm going to get in trouble, but that was sooo worth it!" After a long time out, while I finished the decalcifying, Hutton moved on other destructive activities I've blocked out. See, I'm perfect as a Stay At Home Mom - I can't even remember all the horrible things I have to put up with. I asked Hutton what he got in trouble for yesterday, to refresh my memory and perhaps reinforce things he's not supposed to do, and he told me some things he did at school -- ripping Tom and McKenzie's papers and eating playdough. Yeah, that's not what I wanted to know, but, uh, interesting.

Anyway, today was the big driving day - or Drive Away From Home Mom day. We drove to the UW for ABA therapy, then drove home for AIT therapy, then back to Seattle for craniosacral therapy, then home again for our second session of AIT therapy. None of this therapy is for me, but I'm feeling the need for therapy. The AIT is new for us -- auditory integration therapy that involves Hutton listening to stuff through headphones for a half hour, twice daily for the next 14 days. We'll see if it adds anything new to my exciting world.

Hubby is taking us out to dinner tonight, probably to make up for the fact that he's come home late every night this week. Yeah, I'm loving that he's back in an office job instead of working from home. That was total sarcasm for those who can't read my sarcastic type.

In Answer to Allie's Post from Today

Yes, another one of these. Good way to not have to write anything, though I may post something else later.

Allie's post.

My answer:

Doggy Hospital Visit

Harrison and I went to visit Sally at the hospital today. She had surgery yesterday to remove a ruptured disk in her lower neck/shoulder area. She looked tired and sad, but that may be from the drugs. (I usually look tired and sad, too, but that's normal for me -- no drugs involved!) She'll probably be able to come home next week, but will need physical therapy to keep her legs in tone, and we'll probably have to help her walk with slings for a while.

She whimpered a little when we got up to leave, but Harrison's ability to sit and not act like a 2 1/2 year old was reaching its limit. I'll have to go back without kids this weekend.

I'm so thankful she doesn't have cancer, though, as I sat patting her, I realized how much older she looks now -- white fur on her muzzle that used to be black or brown, that I hadn't really noticed before. I hope she'll live a long, healthy life!

Updates on Boy and Dog

I realized I forgot another lowlight from our trip -- the Florida portion. Nana's kitchen is crammed full of stuff, and there are spices in very easy-to-reach places. Hutton discovered a jar of red pepper one day, spilled some, and of course ended up getting some on his hands, then rubbed his eyes. We figured out what had happened from the spilled spices and screams. Nana quickly flushed his eyes with water from the sink, and we constantly reminded Hutton after that that spices aren't good to play with, nor to rub in one's eyes.

The DOG: Hubby picked Sally up from the emergency vet this morning, and was told she needed an MRI. She'd had Xrays, but nothing abnormal showed up to mark a slipped disk. After a day of muscle relaxants and steroids, she was still the same -- not able to stand -- so Hubby had to take her to a special vet north of us that offered MRIs. The MRI revealed that Sally either has a herniated disk between her 5th and 6th vertebrae, or she has a cancerous mass in that location. You can guess which one we hope it is, as a herniated disk means almost certain recovery, and a cancerous mass on her spine means just the opposite. The vet will operate on her tomorrow, so please keep your fingers crossed (and have your pets keep their paws crossed!) for us!

Another pet story: Tully went into my closet some time this morning while I was getting ready, and I inadvertantly closed the door with her inside. I was thinking soon after dinner that I hadn't seen her all day, and was about to check around the house, when Hubby heard her meowing in the closet and opened the door to find a lot of shredded carpeting where she'd attempted to escape under the door. Hey, as long as she didn't pee on my clothes or shoes, I'm fine with shredded carpet.

Where Was I?

Oh yeah, I was talking about electricity. Well it went out Thursday the 14th, and stayed out for over a week. Fortunately, we got the hell out of dodge on Saturday, on our flight to visit family in Tennessee. We survived five days with my family, followed by a seven-hour drive to Florida to see Hubby's family. We survived still another five days there, and traveled another seven-hour drive back to Tennessee. Then we had our glorious five-hour flight home to Seatac yesterday. The angels sang as we drove up and the garage door opened with the simple push of a button. I happily went around turning on every light in the house.

The highlights and lowlights of our trip:

We saw lots of family. This is usually a highlight AND a lowlight at the same time. For instance, visiting Gran, my mom's mother, involves listening to lots of "woe is me" talk in a house that could double for a smokey bar. After hearing about Gran's miserable cold, then moving on to the thrilling travel photos, Hubby and I felt the need to change clothes and shower. We don't spend much time in smokey bars, either. Gran is 82, so her 60+ years of smoking seem to have done nothing to her health. Good genes, I guess. Hope I got those genes, too! We also visited my great-uncle in the rehab center where he's recovering from a fractured hip. I don't want to get old.

One night in Florida we visited some family friends/distant cousins of Hubby's in their as un-kid-friendly-as-possible home. Think fragile knicknacks on every surface. I ate my dinner in as few bites as possible, then circled through the house after the boys keeping them from touching anything. They did get some travel-size Etch-a-sketches, so that helped for about 30 seconds.

Hutton highlights: Every ceiling fan in every room that had one was turned on. The boy loves ceiling fans, and since we don't have any at home, he has to get his fill visiting relatives. He also found Nana's (Hubby's mom) microwave irresistible, as it was on a low countertop within easy reach. First he made do with just pressing the buttons as often as possible, followed by my hollow threats to "not touch the microwave...or else!" The best part was one day when I smelled something funny in the kitchen, hurried in, and found Hutton laughing maniacally about the "girl smiling!" I found the weird odor was coming from the microwave, which was cooking a box of Wheat Thins bearing Rachel Ray's image. Well, she was smiling, even after being microwaved. What a trooper!

Another highlight (in the sarcastic sense): one day I left my cell phone on the kitchen table at my mom's house, along with a glass of water. Figured this was OK since Hubby was sitting at the kitchen table. I was wrong. After I got out of the shower, Hutton was crying, Hubby was yelling, and my cellphone wasn't working. Fortunately, after dyring out, my cellphone works again.

This morning, after an oh-so-exciting New Year's Eve night spent going to bed around 10 pm (hey, we're still on Central Time!), we got a phone call from the kennel where the dogs and cat were staying. Something was wrong with our dog, Sally, and they wanted us to come pick her up. Pro: we got to spring the animals a day early, since the kennel wasn't technically open today. Con: Sally is unable to stand, and we took her to the emergency vet, who thinks she may have a slipped disk, but needs to do lots of tests and X-rays to be sure. They haven't called with the results yet, so please keep our sweet doggie in your thoughts.

Off to clean more, do more laundry, and put away more Christmas gifts. Oh yeah, I guess I need to write thank you notes, too. I really hate the day after coming home from a trip!

Electricity, Eee-Lec-Tri-City

This post should be read with the School House Rock! song "Electricity" running through your brain. If you don't know the song, well, I am truly sorry.

We've been having lots of wind storms here in Washington this week. A not-so-pleasant side effect of the wind blowing lots is that our power goes out pretty much all the time. It was out yesterday afternoon through this morning, and I'm speedily typing while I have the chance, as I'm sure it will go out again soon.

We live in a very pro-electricity home. Not only are all of our phones cordless, digital ones that only work when the power is on, but my kids get freaked out and annoyed when the lights don't work, let alone when they can't watch Curious George. Fun times. I left the house yesterday to go shopping with both boys. Yes, that's how desperate I became. Also, our garage door is way too heavy for me to open by myself when the power is out (the previous owners rigged the doors so they are connected so they could use one garage door opener. We call these kind of things "Imper-vations" in their honor) so I have to make sure to park outside so I can leave if I need to. Fortunately, yesterday the power was already out when I got home, so I couldn't get locked in the garage.

Last night, the electricity came on momentarily -- long enough to turn on the battery back-up system Hubby keeps his alarm clock plugged into. The battery back-up has a very annoying high-pitched beep that sounds every 20 seconds. Hubby can't hear it, of course. Only the dogs and me, apparently. So, sometime in the middle of the night, I was crawling around under his side of the bed, poking around for some sort of OFF switch for this infernal contraption. I finally found it, turned the thing off, then worried that Hubby would miss some important meeting this morning. I woke him up to ask him what time he needed to get up so I could set my trusty old battery powered alarm clock for him. "Seven fifteen," he mumbled. I was already going to get up at 7:15, so left my alarm set for its original time.

So, this morning at 7:15, the alarm sounded and I told Hubby it was 7:15. He mumbled, "Thanks," before rolling over and going back to sleep. I finally got up at 7:30 when I figured he wasn't going to get in the shower. When I was scrambling to get the boys out of the house to head to speech therapy at 8:15, guess who was still snoozing? Hmmm. I told him it was 8:15 before I left.

Anyway, last night after turning off the annoying beeping device (why the heck do they make those things so they beep? "Hey everybody! The power's out! Let me wait 20 seconds and I'll beep again so you know the power is still out!") I started thinking about electricity, and how living in the boonies is not a good thing for having constant electricity when you need it. I decided someone somewhere should come up with a generator that runs on fat person treadmill action. That way, the fat person is getting some exercise, and in addition to sweat and burned calories, electricity can be generated as well! Hey, I'm not being weightist, either. Skinny people can use them, too. They should definitely get them at gyms. They could fuel the entire gym, and sell the excess electricity to nearby buildings. So, someone, somewhere, get on it! I'd like one for my house. Of course, I don't want to have to be the generator of electricity, so I guess I'd have to use the dogs or kids to run on the treadmill.

Time to go soak up some more electric lighting before the power goes out again.

Another Gray Monday - Yeehaw!

It's another gorgeous day in the Pacific Northwest. No sign of sun, rainy and gray, and it looks like it could be dusk outside. No, it's 10:30 a.m. I really need to get a spectrum light.

For those of you who've been wondering about that little minx, Jetta (what, you don't remember Jetta? My tempermental car?), she went in to the shop Wednesday. That afternoon they called to say it was a fuel injection problem and they'd fix her up with a new filter, and for only $80 we'd be good as new. I relayed the news to Hubby, who gave me his, "I'm very skeptical" look, then said, "Yeah, I don't think that's the problem." Sure enough, that night when I drove Jetta to my soccer game, on the way home, that good old engine light came on again. At least this time she didn't go into limp mode. I told Hubby, who said he'd take her in again tomorrow, and that he was afraid it was the transmission.

Sure enough, the next morning, I picked Hubby up from the car place, where Jetta was getting a brand new transmission. Woohoo. Friday we got her back, driveable again, but responsible for the big chunk missing from our bank account. Not that we need that during the Christmas season. No, plane tickets for a family of four, car rentals, and gifts for everyone are free these days -- didn't you get the email? No? You must have thought it was spam and deleted it. Nope, re-read those "Gift Card Confirmation" emails. Oh, wait, it WAS spam. Crap.

Autism Stuff

A couple things to write about Autism today.

The other day, someone posted something quite annoying on one of the Autism forums I read. It wasn't the poster's opinion, but something she'd read and that had annoyed her as well, and she wanted to share.

So, I read what was posted on the Autism site, then went to the site to see it in the flesh.

First of all, it's from the website, Biblelife.org, so I was prepared for the, er, most biblical.

Second, it was in a section under "Pregnant?" - Yeah, you know there's going to be some good stuff there, if there's biblical ministering going on.

The pregnant section starts out with:

Don't get an abortion or give your baby up for adoption.
Look to the future with hope and prayer for your baby.

OK, I understand the whole Bible people have an anti-abortion thing going, but don't give your baby up for adoption? WTF? So, say you're a 14-year-old rape victim living on your own on the streets, but you don't believe in abortion. Best thing would be to put your baby up for adoption since you can't support it, let alone yourself, right? Oh, hell no! Not if you're a good Christian. You pray about it and everything will be fine. Huh.

Now, here are the good parts (good meaning "OH MY GOD! THEY DIDN'T WRITE THAT!):

Well, I just went to the website to copy some stuff, and lo and behold they've changed it! That's good to an extent. I'll paste in what they had on last week that made my blood boil:

Mommy's Diet Can Cause or Prevent Autism in the Fetus

Autism in infants has soared to become an epidemic and shows every sign of heading higher. This is a dreadful brain damaging condition that is incurable and destines the poor child to live a life as a retarded adult....Autism is caused by the USDA recommended low-fat, low-cholesterol diet when eaten by the mother before and during pregnancy. The fetus in the womb needs cholesterol, essential EPA and DHA omega-3 fatty acids and essential arachidonic omega-6 fatty acid as found in meat and fish in order to grow a healthy brain...Autism is caused by the mother's dietary deficiency in fats and cholesterol during development and growth of the baby's brain. Pregnant women should eat a high-fat, high-cholesterol, high-protein diet before and during pregnancy in order to have a healthy baby without autism. Vegetables and fruit have no fat, no cholesterol and no protein. The low-fat, low-cholesterol vegetarian diet causes autism. A high-carbohydrate diet with excessive amounts of fruits and vegetables as recommended by the USDA Food Guide Pyramid actually causes autism.

Mommy, your salad for lunch will not grow a baby with a healthy brain. Salads will cause a brain damaged baby. The baby's brain is made of cholesterol and fat. Your low-fat diet can cause your baby to become a retarded child.

OK. Good stuff, no? They go on to rant and rave about the importance of essential fatty acids, etc., which I do agree are important in the diet. The problem I have is that I did eat a high fat, high cholesterol, high protein diet when I was pregnant. Guess what? Hutton has Autism. Hmm. How did that happen? I was eating my red meat and drinking my milkshakes.

The entire part about autistic children being destined to live as retarded adults with no future really pissed me off, though, as well as the incurable thing. Uh, tell that to all the recovered kids out there, and spend a few minutes with most of the autistic kids I know, and you would NOT call them retarded. Whoever wrote this, on the other hand, might be considered retarded.

Anyway, one of the moms on the Autism forum this was posted on, who happens to be a Christian, sent the website an angry letter soon after, and it seems to have worked, because now there is no mention of incurable brain damage and retarded adults. However, they do still have this little gem on there with their dietary warnings:

If you are the mother of an autistic or ADHD child you should deal with the reality of the situation. Go look at yourself in the mirror and shout, "It is your fault." Then change your diet. Go out to dinner and eat a ribeye steak without bread, potatoes or dessert so your next child won't be autistic or ADHD also.

Yeah, you can bite me, you pompous jackass. My child's Autism was not caused by my diet. I'll be praying for you to grow a brain. Ha.

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

The second annoying thing I read yesterday in a more mainstream source, but it was still quite ignorant. It was in Hubby's college alumni magazine. I thought it would be good to read about the Autism treatment world in my hometown, as I never know if we might end up there someday. Well, the article was going well until I came to this:

For a while, some people argued that thimerosal, a mercury-based additive in childhood vaccines, was behind the rise in autism cases—but that theory has not held up under scientific scrutiny. Thimerosal was removed from American vaccines in 1999, and as far as anyone can tell, there has been no subsequent decline in ASD in children born after that time.

Yeah, that's good and all, but it's completely wrong. Thimerosal (which is about 50% mercury, and extremely toxic) was not removed from American vaccines in 1999. That is when the FDA brought it up and the Public Health Service, American Academy of Pediatrics and vaccine manufacturers agreed to remove thimerosal-containing vaccines "as soon as possible." Of course, that didn't mean much. Money is involved after all. We didn't have an immediate recall. Some vaccine makers didn't start cranking out mercury-free vaccines until 2003! Those made before 2003 could have up to 25μg of thimerosal, and they are possibly still in use as well, as they still haven't been recalled. Vaccines made shortly before the new thimerosal-free ones in 2003 won't expire until 2006 at the earliest, 2008 at the latest. So, if your doctor has a big stockpile of vaccines, your child could be getting pumped with mercury for two more years.

Oh, and the pregnant women and kiddies who are "doing the right thing" and getting their flu shots? Yep, they're most likely getting a nice dose of mercury as well, as most flu shots are still made with mercury.

So, this whole, "No, there's not anything to see here!" thing the CDC has tried to pull isn't working on many in the Autism community. The reason there hasn't been a noticeable decline in Autism numbers could be because thimerosal wasn't really removed from vaccines in 1999. It's still in them. That and the zillions of other toxins are children are being exposed to. We won't be able to see if there's a decline in Autism numbers due to the removal of thimerosal for several years, and even then, if pregant women are still getting flu shots with mercury, isn't it possible this is damaging to their fetuses and could cause Autism? Since nobody knows the cause of Autism, I think it's safe to say it's possible a potent neurotoxin still widely used in vaccines could have something to do with it.

The take home message -- ask for a single dose vial of your vaccine if you're going to get one, and double-check that it doesn't have thimerosal, aka nasty potent neurotoxin. Or don't get vaccines at all. That will really piss off the CDC. Har har.

My Poor Children

My poor children are not getting any gifts from me for Christmas this year. Aren't I a heartless, uncaring mother?

Well, take a look at these pictures:



And those are only some of the toys. There are more downstairs. And this is after I've cleaned out a lot of what they don't play with.

I got out the Christmas stuff yesterday, so Santa's village has been incorporated into the rest of the Little People toys that are spread out around the room. Hutton likes to hook all the sets together in a circle, but in this case, it's more like a Gordian knot. Last week, I set up the train tracks on the train table, because before that they'd been all over the floor. So, for a day or so, one could walk into our playroom/office without stepping on toys. That's over now, as you can see from the pictures.

Don't worry, though. My poor, poor, deprived little boys will be getting more stuff from Go-Go and Nana (the names their grandmothers have given themselves). The two of them race to get to the Amazon wish list each year and buy everything. Mom (Go-Go) snapped everything up this year, so Nana will have to just wing it.

Snowy Days Just Lead to More Rain

Well, it's the end of the week, but it seemed pretty slow and mellow. Probably because Hutton's school was cancelled every day but Monday due to our huge blizzard. Cough. Really, it was just a few inches of snow, but that was enough for our district to be overly cautious. Monday I went out with Harrison to buy a hat and gloves for Hutton, and some boots for both boys. Tuesday we didn't leave the house; we stayed inside in a snow coma. Wednesday we went outside and played in the snow a bit. Hutton attempted to sled using a cardboard box. It wasn't ideal for sledding, I found. Note to self: buy a sled for the next time it snows.

Thursday was back to the routine in terms of speech therapy, but still no school. My friend and her kids came over to play, then the boys and I went to Target so I could spend money on things I don't really need. I like to alternate my Target trips -- every other time I buy things I need. The other times I get sucked in by, "Oh, that's new! I think I'll get that." I bought a "winter" slipcover for the couch, some Christmasy tablecloths, and a poinsettia. So, not too bad -- they're somewhat useful, though I could have definitely survived without them.

Today was the really fun day, though. Fun in the sense that it was crappy. Well, not that bad, but the worst of the week. It started out with the fact that I had to -gasp- drink tea instead of coffee, since I forgot to buy coffee the last time I went shopping. Then I was late getting in the car to take Hutton to ABA therapy. Then my car started acting wonky when I got on 520. The "ESP" warning light lit up. ESP in this case stands for Extra Stability Protection, but it could have been that the car really does have ESP, had an idea it was going to have some big issues in the near future, and was giving me a heads up.

Now, I'm going to share something a bit embarrassing with you: I name my cars. Yes, I'm one of those people. My cars have been: Cecil, the powder blue Civic hatchback, Elliott, the "titanium" Escort (titanium is a fancy car paint name for beige), Jackson the black Prelude (I didn't like any P names for alliteration, so went with Jackson as Jacksonville was his point of entry in the country), Sven, the silver Volvo C70 (I didn't really call him that very often, and I think I should have named him Mulva - you know, the rhyming version of the part of the female anatomy that you get from changing a couple of vowels in Volvo), Jimmy, the green Jimmy (that was a given, as he was already named), and lastly, Maddox, the green Acura MDX. This was before my current car, the goldish/beige Volkswagen Jetta stationwagon, who hasn't really clicked for a name yet. Though all of my previous cars have been boys, Jetta is definitely a girl. She's bitchy and temperamental, you see. I've thought of just calling her Jetta -- like Jimmy, she already has the name. It's the name of the bitchy girl on Clifford the Big Red Dog, too.

Back to the car warning light situation -- Jetta started with the "ESP" light. I, of course, had no idea what that meant - a triangle of arrows with a big exclamation point in the middle. I don't speak car German. I don't even speak human German, other than my favorite word, gemutlik. The triangle of arrows corresponded with Jetta making funny noises and not having decent acceleration. Which is great when it happens as soon as you get onto a highway. Pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor, hearing the car not upshifting, and seeing the speedometer stay on 40 is really fun. Jetta continued to do this off and on, with the warning light staying lit, the entire way to the UW. Since I was late for Hutton's appointment, I didn't want to pull over and try to figure out what was going on. Jetta managed to get up to 60 sporadically, and I stayed in the right lane. I managed to get the owner's manual out, and found the warning light page which I read in bits and pieces as I drove. (Yeah, I'm all about safety on the road!) We made it to the UW a mere twenty minutes late, and I brought the manual in with me to read while I waited. I wasn't too concerned. Figured the ESP light came on because of some slush I drove over getting on the 520, and maybe it would go off when I turned on the car later.

After lunch, when I turned on the car so we could drive to another of Hutton's appointments, which conveniently enough, I was also late for (hey, we were all enjoying our lunch, and I lost track of the time!) the light wasn't on. Phew. Wait, scratch that. There's the ESP light again. Oh, and here's a universal symbol I know -- the engine light! Joy. Jetta revved and made all sorts of fun noises while refusing to go over 35, and we arrived 15 minutes late to our next appointment. Fortunately, I had the perfect excuse both times for my lateness. Darn car troubles! During the second appointment, I called Hubby and he said he'd meet me at the car dealership in an hour and a half, that he had a conference call. I then called the car dealer, and was told they were "shutting down for the day" -- at 2:30 on a Friday. Yeah, it's one of those dealers. Then he said, "I'll put you down for Wednesday. How's that?" Uh, great. Really amazing how you fit me in like that.

I drove home on the back roads to avoid being run off the road in my car, which I now knew was driving in "limp mode." It was OK until I hit Hollywood Hill. I put Jetta in third gear as she huffed and puffed. No go. Pull over to let three cars pass. I made it up to 20 mph again. The hill got steep again. How about second gear? No better. How about first gear? I managed to creak around a curve in the hill going 15. Pulled over to let another car pass. I finally made it to the crest of the hill, and practically coasted home in neutral. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to the drive to the dealership Wednesday. There's another big hill the other way, too.

So, back to the car names. If there is a serious issue to these car warning lights and "limp mode," I'm thinking of calling Jetta Cassandra instead. She did give me those warning lights, after all. Didn't just stop driving all together on the 520 bridge over Lake Washington. For that, at least, I'm thankful.

We'll see....