Where's My Soap?

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

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.

My Special Week

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!

I'm On a Roll

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?

The Bus Gods Smiled

Today after taking Hutton to the bus, Harrison and I headed to his new art class. It's a nice way to get all the crafty stuff done without having to make a big mess in my own house. He gets to paint, cut things out, and use glitter, and I don't have to worry about the glitter everywhere until we bring the finished project home next week. Win-win!

After art class, we headed to BFF's house for lunch and companionship (I get some adult conversation, Harrison gets to play with her four-year-old daughter). As I was announcing, "Harrison, we need to leave to go get Hutton!" he was in the process of pooping. OK, quick diaper change. Then we got out to the car, and I realized we were going to be late. Crap. We had 10 minutes to get home -- a drive that takes at least 15. D'oh!

I drove as quickly as I could, without endangering the life of my child and myself. I managed to hit every red light. My stomach was dancing around, telling me, "You suck! You are going to miss the bus, and I bet the driver doesn't have your cell phone number and it will take an hour to track her down and get Hutton. Yep, you suck, all right!"

"Shut up, Stomach!" (This wasn't necessary to say out loud, as my stomach and I can communicate without speech. Stomach also tells me when it needs chocolate.)

I was growing more anxious by the second, as I was at least 5 minutes later than the regular bus arrival time, but when I turned onto the next to last street before our house, I noticed a short bus a few streets up driving in our direction. Hmm. It didn't look like Hutton's bus, but just maybe....

I turned onto our street and pulled to the side of the road. I got out of the car just as the bus pulled up. It was a substitute bus -- smaller and older than the regular one, which was why I hadn't recognized it. Hallelujah! I commented on the "new bus" to the driver, and she said, "Yeah, it's small, old, and SLOW! The regular bus is getting an oil change." I smiled and thought, thank you, Slow Bus! I made no comment about how I had been late and just pulled in moments before. No reason to let the driver know how irresponsible I am, right?

Mom of the Year

I hope the Mom of the Year voting committee doesn't hear about today. I'd definitely be out of the running. Hmm. I probably shouldn't blog about it. Wait, the committee members don't have Internet access.

This weekend, on Saturday, Hutton didn't feel well. He said his ear hurt, he threw up, and he slept most of the day. We tended to to him and he was feeling better by evening. Yesterday he was fine, and said his ear didn't hurt.

So, this morning, I chugged along in the classic school day style. I fed the boys breakfast, then lunch a little later, and hustled Hutton off to the bus, barely making it on time. I also forgot it was library day until the bus pulled up, and I'd neglected to put Hutton's old library book in his backpack to return. Oops! Oh well, nothing major.

A little while later, I was talking to a friend on the phone while getting ready to go to the gym. I noticed that Harrison wasn't in the room with me. "Hold on. I'll call you back!" I ran downstairs. Not in the kitchen. Not in the TV room, or his bedroom. I was about to panic when I heard him in Hutton's room. Phew. I told him to please answer me when I call him.

Harrison and I head off to the gym. He likes the gym daycare -- good toys, he gets to eat a snack and have a juice box. These are very special to him. I realize as I pull onto the highway that I'd left my cell phone charging on my desk. Drat! But, if I turn around, we'll be late for the daycare reservation. Oh, it will be fine.

After working out, I pick Harrison up from the daycare. He doesn't want to leave, and I bribe him with the promise of a snack from the gym snack bar if he stops screaming. Yep, so far, I'm already slipping in the Mother of the Year competition ranks. I get myself some sushi at the snack bar, and a smoothie to share with Harrison. The cashier asks if he can have a cookie - there's one that's broken that they can't sell. Sure! Things are going well -- a free cookie for the child NOT on a gluten and everything else free diet!

We eat our snacks at a nice leisurely pace, then head to the car to run some errands.
At the vitamin store, Harrison colors in the kiddie area. I don't really pay too much attention as I attempt to hunt down various supplements without asking for help. (I almost succeed except I have no idea what DMG - dimethylglycine - is considered, so have to ask for help finding that. It's in the "energy" section.) I'm the only customer and there are three workers, so I'm not too worried. The employee at the front desk comments that Harrison is still happily coloring. Great. I check out and we clean up the crayons and head to the grocery store.

At the grocery store, Harrison walks beside me and helps me pick out what we need. I notice it's getting late, and after we check out, I hustle him to the car. I'm a little worried as I pull up to our street and notice it's 3:51. The bus comes around 3:55. But today it doesn't. Finally, at 4:05, I curse myself for being late, and drive home, figuring there will be a message from the bus driver asking where I am.

There's not. There are two calls from Hutton's school on the caller ID - at 2:30 and 2:35. Hmm. That's not right. Even with Daylight Savings Time. I ran upstairs to get my cell phone. Three missed calls. ShitSmurf. I call my voice mail and hear the first message.

Hutton's teacher called to tell me Hutton was complaining that his ear hurt. She was taking him to the nurse. The second call is the nurse, telling me it looks like Hutton has an ear infection. Smurf, smurfing smurf. The third call is Hubby telling me he's going to pick Hutton up at school. Well, at least one of the parents in this family is reliable.

I called Hubby, and he told me he was at the doctor's office and would be back soon. I apologized for not being home or having my cell phone. "I was at the gym..." "Yeah, but they left messages..." While waiting for them to return, I felt guilty. Then I pondered the fact that antibiotics are going to further screw up Hutton's yeast problem. Then I worried that the doctor's office would comment that Hutton is behind on his vaccinations and want to give him some shots, "since you're already here." (That's an entire different post there. Maybe I'll bless you with that soon.) Then I felt guilty some more.

Hubby and Hutton came home, Hubby returned to work, and Hutton is happily playing "Wallace and Gromit" on Xbox. Time to figure out the best way to treat an ear infection without antibiotics. We have the prescription, but I really don't want to screw up Hutton's already messed up stomach flora.

Sigh. You other Mothers of the Year won't turn me in to the MOTY police, will you?

For Your Reading Pleasure, a Bad Mommy Story

Today started relatively well. I slept in until 9, the boys got up and entertained themselves without destroying anything for an hour or so, the cat only meowed loudly enough to wake me 2 or 3 times...Good morning.

Hutton ate his lunch with plenty of time for us to go catch the bus, and Harrison said he wanted to walk to the bus stop with us, so as I was getting him dressed, I thought Hutton was ready to go. We walked out of the front door, and were starting up the street when Hutton announced he needed to use the bathroom.

"Are you sure? We don't really have enough time."

Hutton, now screaming and crying, "Use the potty!"

OK. Number one, we're not going to be able to get him back inside, have him use the potty, and get back to the bus stop before the bus arrives.

Number two, in his newsletter from Kindergarten last Friday, the teacher announced that they no longer refer to it as "using the potty". Now that they're big Kindergartners, they say, "using the bathroom."

So, I quickly tell Hutton to say, "Use the bathroom," as I'm dragging him through the driveway. He falls down on the gravel and his screaming increases, as I try to herd him and his brother into the house and towards the potty bathroom. As Hutton pees and cries, I notice his dirty, scraped up palm from falling in the driveway, and feel bad, but continue to be the Bitchy Mom that I am, and tell him angrily that next time he needs to use the potty bathroom BEFORE we leave the house to catch the bus. I hurry him through pulling up his pants and washing his hands, still bitching about the fact that we're going to be late, and run up the street, carrying Harrison and half-dragging Hutton behind me. Hutton is crying that he wants me to hold him, because his hand probably hurts, but that isn't part of the Bitchy Mom's plan.

The bus arrives as we're still 50 yards away. When we finally reach the bus and I strap Hutton into his carseat, he is still upset about falling down, and probably about being dragged into the house, dragged down the street, etc. The bus driver cheerily tells me we don't need to run next time. Plenty of time. I give her my best fake smile and hustle Harrison off the bus, so we can walk home with me all sweaty and frazzled and Harrison happily pointing out the cars and horses we pass.

Did I mention I have a very short fuse?

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So, after Harrison and I have eaten lunch and I have returned to Stable Mom mode, I call to get myself an appointment for a haircut. Hubby watches Harrison, or rather, lets "Curious George" babysit him, and I drive off to enjoy an hour's peace, and try to return to a look that doesn't say, "Cousin It with purple hair". As I'm enjoying my peace in the hair salon, I notice a little bag in the hairstylist's drawer with the words, "For Your Pleasure" written on it. It's in a drawer with a bunch of shavers and curling irons, but for some reason, I don't associate hand-held appliances and the words "For Your Pleasure" with getting my hair cut.