I heart Ryan but hate unicorns. Still love me?

I'm linking up with Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood today.  Playing around with Ryan Gosling like he's my sexy hot social skills partner is fun.  I mean really fun.  I will warn you though, all the opinions from here on out are mine.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around some things going around in our community lately.  I've intentionally tried to keep my mouth shut and head low.  I've been struggling with so much else I've not had the intestinal fortitude to articulate how I feel on some things and quite honestly I'm still wrapping my brain around what so many people have said.

There has been a lot said about hating Autism and how that implies a whole host of other things.  It's no surprise here that I have a love affair with foul language.  Sometimes nothing is better than a good old fashioned bad word.  But there is one word we simply do not use in our house---and it's the word HATE.  We banned it early on because for me it's a word that's so powerful, so visceral, so...I don't know.  It brings whatever you are saying up a notch and once said, it puts you on the brink of no return.

But that's just me.  That's what we do at our house.  It may not be what you do at your house and that's your right.  Your right to use your words as you see fit.

I cannot, and will not, condemn someone else for using their words differently than me.  They have a different story.  Sometimes a very different story and I truly can see how they have come to the conclusions they have.  I wonder how they do it.  I wonder how they survive and I am in awe of them for their unconditional love of their child.  They have a right to how they feel and what they say.  And I admire them for it.  I will not judge.  How can I?  It's not my place.

Nor is it anybody elses.

I am the mom of a boy who has Autism.  That is all I know.

PS---Blogger's not playing nice and not letting some people leave comments or letting me leave tracks at other blogs.  Feel free to hate that too!

The Vengaboys have taken over my bathroom and do they like to party.

There are some things going on in the background with school that has left me with an empty, hollow feeling.  I will eventually write about them but right now, its not the time.  Right now I've been subjected to listening to an old song brought out of retirement thanks to He Who Shall Not Be Named.

First things first, go down there and hit play on the YouTube video.  Trust me, this whole post goes better with music and alcohol and a mallet to beat some sense into the idgets at our school.  Crap, I digress...

Anyway, we have this thing we do every night with our showers.  Namely, we load all three kids in our shower and let 'em rip.  We turn some music on and they have a blast.  It makes it a little more palatable listening to music while you're telling your eight year old not to miss his pits and don't forget to scrub between your legs.  

I've talked about music before.  Alex loves to listen to music.  He even has an app that allows him to create musical scores.  Of course I'm trying to crank out this post at six AM so I'm making the bold move of skipping the links to my other posts about music.

I AM THAT LAZY.

Anyway, to say Alex loves music would be a massive understatement.  That would be akin to saying I like Diary Queen.  Hell, I love Dairy Queen.  I'll even hook for Dairy Queen, ask my husband.  Not that its really considered hooking when your married but rest assured if he brings home a DQ Blizzard, he's getting laid.  Boy bloggers of the world, take note.

Anyway, he loves music.  We're no strangers to repetitive listening.

We have one particular song that Alex had fallen in love with.  He loves it and I'm stuck with it so I try to make the best of it.    

I give you the Vengaboys.

I've been listening this full blast every night during shower time.  Every night for the the last few months the Vengaboys have been ear-raping me.

Every Single Night.

For Months.

MONTHS.

I thought, "Why listen alone?  You all should be privy to this song just once."

And just so you know, you're getting off easy.  We listen to all the other Vengaboys songs because in our house, we go down hard.  They've take up residence in my master bathroom like a bad fungus and they won't leave.

So there you have it.  If you're wondering what I'm doing every night from 7:30 to 8:00, I'm having a shower party and getting ear-raped by the Vengaboys.  

And now that I've seen the video I have a whole new dance routine to get started on.  At minimum, I can get busy with neon, I hear its coming back in style...


Note: if you are dying to listen, and I know you are, to other Vengaboys songs, when the Up and Down video is over you can click on more.  Our other heavy hitters are We Like to Party and Shalalalala.  The Vengaboys, ear-raping generations for years.  Go on, you know you wanna.   

Oops I did it again...

I'm joining forces with Sunday today because this Ryan Gosling thing is fun.  Seriously, I've not laughed so hard in ages. Go over and check it out and spread the love.

We are still on Spring Break. I hope the teachers are yucking it up because when they get back there's going to be hell to pay.  The boy's not happy about missing school and has taken to Hanging his teacher and anyone else he can think of.  Thank God for parental control is all I can say.

The only thing bringing me some semblance of peace is the fact the kids have Tae Kwon Do camp.  Four blissful days from nine till noon where I only have the baby.

But there's been a catch.  On the first day Alex and Lizzy both brought home this pleasant little surprise:

Seriously, seriously?!?
It's so phallic it's wrong.  

Nunchucks.

Yeah, that's right.  Frigging nunchucks.  Always a fun toy to have around when your kid has no concept of personal space.  Add limited gross and fine motor skills and its just bound to go south.  Only a matter of time.  And since the oldest two have a healthy case of sibling rivalry, they've been beating the shit out of each other since the first day of Camp.

So during Spring Break I may, or may not, have said things like:

"Please guys, don't nunchuck your sister."

"Alex, you have to remember the nunchuck increases the size of your bubble.  OUCH.  GAWD.  FUCK.  Those things hurt.  Please don't nunchuck me like that."

"Hey honey, hand me a nunchuck.  Come on, quick!  The neighbors dog just broke the fence and I think I can get him.  Come-on, give me a damn nunchuck.  Aw frick, he just went back in.  Never mind."

"Is that the way Master Lee showed you how to use those things?  No, I didn't think so..."

"Please guys, don't nunchuck the windows.  They didn't do anything to deserve that kind of treatment."

"Here let mommy try, those things look pretty easy.  OUCH.  GAWD.  FUCK.  Those things really hurt."

"For the last time: DO NOT NUNCHUCK YOUR LITTLE SISTER."

"That's it.  I've had it.  Hand them over.  The nunchucks are in time-out."

In that vein, I give you this:

And this:

I'll stop there but really, with nunchucks?  The possibilities are endless....

A meme. Be afraid, very afraid.

I was going to write some more about our wonderful adventures in Spring Break Land but like many places you go, it's over rated.  Quite frankly, without my kids in a Tae Kwon Do camp this week I just may have thrown myself out an upper window by now.  I think I've discussed this before and while jumping out the window may impart some bodily harm, it wouldn't be enough for me to get out of making dinner.  The cost benefit analysis deems it necessary I stay within the confines of my house.  Dammit.

My good friend Kelly over at Unplanned Trip to Holland tagged me in a Meme.  I'm never quite sure how to feel about these things.  I love to read other's view on Meme's but truth be told, these things are a lot of work with all the tagging and linking but I love them just the same.  Yes, I am that lazy.  

In short order, here are the rules of the game:

1. Thank and link back to the person who bestowed the award on you.  Check.  Kelly, Kelly, Kelly..click here to find Kelly.
2. Post 10 things about yourself that others may or may not know. 
3. Nail 6 others with this award. 
4. Go find those 6 others and let them know you've given them the computer equivalent of Type A influenza.   

Now before y'all go running down to the bottom of the page I'll start with the ten things you may or may not know about me.  THEN, you can all go run down to the bottom of the page.

Aw, fuck it.  

Here are my people I'm tagging.  Who am I kidding?  We all want to know who I'm going to crucify and hang out to dry.  In no particular order, except for Flannery, here you go.  

1. Flannery over at Living on the Spectrum: The Connor Chronicles.
2. Peg at Straight up-No Chaser.  
3. Allie from Little Baby Fields.
4. Karen at Ow, my angst. 
5. Andrea over at Maybe it's just me...
6. Insert your name here if you think the Meme's got your name on it.  

Flannery always gets nailed when I do a meme.  One day she's going to come up to Kansas City and kick my ass, like seriously, the way they do in Fight Club.  She's going to beat me to a pulp and turn me into soap.  When the blog goes silent, you'll know that's happened but until then I will tag her.  Relentlessly.  I call it tradition.  She calls it a, "horrendous pain in her ass, a boil that needs to be lanced, a...."   

Now on to the ten things you may or may not know about me.  

1. I detest when other people in my family are sick.  I can't stand to hear them cough, sick-up or act like they are dying.  The fact that He Who Shall Not Be Named is still sick and carrying on like a wounded dove is driving me right over the edge.  To say, "Every time he coughs, a little piece of me dies inside, " is not stretching the truth.  Hurry the hell up and get better already or die.  I don't care which but just turn the corner one way or the other.        
2. I'm Type A all the way.  I can't stand to have a messy, dirty floors.  When I first saw Sleeping With the Enemy I was all, "Ohhhh, look now nice and clean their house is!  Look at how he lines up all the canned goods and see, who doesn't like their bathroom towels all neat and orderly?"  Sure, he was certifiably insane but I'd place money you could eat off those floors.  He'd beat you for it later, of course, but you'd have a full belly.    
3. Tamiflu made me sicker than a dog.  To the point that I had to preform several complete colon cleanses.  One of them was at my son's allergy appointment.  Since I had to drag him into the bathroom with me, he almost got sick because I was sick and I had horrible visions of him puking between my legs while I was on the toilet.  Think that sounds disgusting?  Try living it.     
4. I pretend not to be a bitch but I really am.  I judge people and I like to make fun of my neighbors.  I try not to but seriously, how long is that tree going to stay dead in your yard?  Its been there for two years and let me tell you a little known fact about trees---they stay dead.  Cut the damn thing down already.   
5. I am hypoglycemic as hell right now so I have to stop and come back before I pass out from low blood sugar.  Yeah, I know it's from eating cake and coffee this morning but when presented with the option of a piece of cake or a fruit salad, the cake wins every single time.  
6. I'm sick of my stats and really need to stop looking at them but it's like crack.  I have to go back and look.  I try to stop but I just can't.  And don't get me started on the 'Join this site' and 'Members' and all of that.  I don't know who I'm following and who's following me and what the proper etiquette is anymore.  I mean, what if you follow them and they don't follow you back?  That means they think you suck, right?  Do you then go back and un-follow?  I mean, that's a little rude don't you think?  And then if you subscribe to an e-mail feed with someone on WordPress should they follow you on Blogger?  Seriously, somebody help me with this one.  
7. I'm using an old razor right now and the only time I remember to replace it is when I'm buck-naked in the shower.  I'm too lazy to get out of the shower to replace it so I've been butchering my legs for over a week now.  
8. I love to bake but the thought of making dinner every night makes me weak at the knees because, you know, we all eat one well-rounded meal full of fresh produce and lovely vegetables.  And if you can't read the sarcasm in that, then I just can't help you.  
9. Everything I wrote in that first paragraph is a lie.  I'm secretly enjoying everything about Spring Break.  Except Daylight Savings.  I want to punch that ass-hat in the nuts.  
10. I wish I didn't have to fake-name it here and it bugs me more than you will ever know.  

I'm sure I could do more than ten things but I think that's sufficient to have your hand over your mouth in horror so I'll stop there.  

Now I'm off like a virus to go infect some more people....

Invasion of Science City---complete.

So after sitting around all day Thursday bemoaning the fact there was not school, no schedule and Oh My God mom just made us put down our i-Touches so we could eat breakfast and we almost died, I was thinking we would just sit around and recover all day Friday.

Not so.

My mom got a hair up her ass and decided to take the kids to Science City.  I was quite happy to sit around and recover all day Friday but noooo, that was not part of the plan.  I had to go too.

Since it was her idea to go, she drove.  Mistake number one.

After almost getting killed on the ride down there because Oh My God there is a truck next to me and Lizbeth's Mom doesn't like driving near trucks so she decides to floor it and damn near run us off the road but hey, we made it and since Lizbeth's Mom has a navigation system and because we have a navigation system it is synonymous for letting your brain leave the building and it says to turn but she can't turn and therefor she's going to STOP in the middle of the highway/road/intersection and wait patiently while it uploads our current position and we ALMOST DIE AGAIN but hey, we didn't die and my mom didn't hit the truck and no one killed us so in the end it was all good.

After a slight battle with having to rationalize to an eight, six and two year old that we all have to wear stupid arm bands and yes they are itchy, scratchy and will be pulled off as soon as we get away from the crotchety old volunteer, we all went in and Alex saw this:

Sweet Baby Jesus a Rocket Launcher.

In my delusion, I thought all of Kansas City had started their Spring Break...they did not.  I counted no less than twenty-two school buses parked off in the side parking lot.  To say it was crowded was an understatement.

And since most of the kids were in high school I had to have a quick sex-ed lesson with my own kids as to why so many of them were 'hugging' in the hallway by the restrooms and the kid cave.  Thank you teens of KC.  I really wanted to have that talk at the Science Center on Friday.

Sweet Mother of Pearl, GEARS.  And
"Get the baby away before I hit her mom!!!"

I threw in the towel when we found the water-current-table-thing.

We strategically did this last because I knew when we hit it we were not going to leave it.

Like a game of survivor we outplayed, outwitted and outlasted just about everybody in the joint to work this damn table.  My kids formed their own tribal council of three and for the first time in their lives they collectively worked together to eliminate new kids coming to the table.   I was proud and scared all at the same time.

It was like Vegas craps table.  My kids owned it and damn near charged admission.

Working on currents....

Plotting domination...

Minion elimination in progress.

Total table domination complete.

For as long as I live I don't think I will ever get four pictures to line up like that ever again. 

And then we all went home and we didn't die on the drive back.  

To calm my nerves I made this cake and ate about half of it before dinner.

Yeah, that sooo came out of a box.

I don't remember what happened after that.  The rest of Friday has been erased from my memory.  That's probably a good thing.  

Four Sea Stars goes on Spring Break. And by that I mean we all went to the living room.

I have somehow managed to enter into the temporal-time-vortex called, "Spring Break" and everything that entails with my children.  I would like to lie and say I have no idea how time got away from me but I do know how time got away from me.  I blame it all on my husband.

Yes, I lay blame squarely at his feet.  It's all his fault.  He is entirely to blame.

He got sick.

And because he got sick he got it longer, worser and was sicker than any of the rest of us combined.  And worser is a word in my house.  Go ask my daughter if you don't believe me.  She'll tell you it's true.

Dare I say more???

I think not.

I'm linking up with Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood today.  Go clickety-click on over and see what I'm talking about.  She does great things.

We entered Spring Break and at exactly the same time as we do every morning, at 7:01 with my son coming in and announcing to the free world, "MOM, IT'S 7:01AM, TIME TO GET UP!!!!!"

I don't know why I thought today would be any different but it wasn't.

Then my dear boy announced to the free world and right into my ear, "SINCE IT'S SPRING BREAK I GET TO PLAY MY I-TOUCH ALL DAY.  I'M GOING TO PLAY MY I-TOUCH ALL DAY STARTING...RIGHT....ABOUT.....NOW!"

Darned if he didn't go racing downstairs and proceeded to play his i-Touch.  I let things go on for about an hour and said, "Hey guys, lets turn those things off and eat some breakfast."

This is what I think they heard: "Hey guys, lets go get a dental exam and get all our teeth pulled without novocaine.  Or I know, lets go out and weed the garden or get eaten by Zombies.  Or both.  And after that, lets go to the doctor and get blood drawn because when we're Zombies we won't need blood.  Ohhhh!!!  That sounds like a plan." 

And here's where I take a momentary deep breath and think of any other yoga pose except the downward dog to try and center myself from the maelstrom that just erupted in the center of my living room.   

Oh My Frigging Lord He Went Unhinged.  The other two took his lead and lets just say they were in it to win it.  

He didn't want to turn off his i-Touch.  He was greatly opposed to the idea.  

According to Alex I have approximately 250 more hours to go.  

Yay Spring Break.  

And now all I can think about is the downward dog.  

Your welcome.  

The art of a good breakfast negotiation.

Mornings in our house are always a bit of a cluster.  I've finally managed to get a handle on things but at a cost.  The older two come downstairs already dressed and they know they're supposed to pack snacks in their lunch bags.

It requires some give and take on my part.  That means if Lizzy shows up wearing a party dress, tiara and pink sparkle leg warmers over Rainbow Dash leggings, I go with it.  It also means if they don't help pack their lunches then I get to stick in whatever I want.  That means bagged carrots, a yogurt tube and an Uncrustable.  It's happened once to each of them and they've wizened up pretty quickly.

We stopped printing out what they are serving at school since both are pretty reluctant to eat what they are serving in the cafeteria.  What we do for school lunches is a whole other post....

At first blush this picture of breakfast seems pretty mundane, boring even.  Look closer.

Can you see that each kiddo has their own electronic?  Each child is eating a different breakfast?

The baby is eating scrambled eggs, Lizzy is working on Nutella and bread and Alex is working on "grandma style" pancakes.  That translates to homemade pancakes with a shit-ton of dark chocolate chips in them.  Specifically Ghirardelli large chips, 65% cocoa.

See how I've not yet managed to get drinks or silverware on the counter yet?  And I've given the environment the middle finger and they're all eating on paper plates?

My sacrifice to keeping the calm in the morning is to let them use their i-things while eating so they all quit yelling/arguing/shoving each other long enough to pile in some breakfast.

The kids and I have come to an agreement, a truce if you will.  My son presented a solution for the three of them:  They get to play their electronics and agree to quit hassling me long enough so I can get a cup of coffee in.

It's a compromise.  A negotiation.  A life skill in bartering in which we all win.

Never in a million years did I think I'd be negotiating 'coffee time' with my eight year old child.  Honestly, I think he had it all figured out before he came down to breakfast that morning.

And my boy runs a pretty hard bargain.

They get their electronics, food of their choice and paper plates.  I get my coffee.

I'm happy with the deal I made.



Note:  Tuesday I'll be at SPD Network talking about our OT Room.  Please spread the word if  this would help anyone you may know.


And I put links to the Uncrustables and chocolate so you know what they are.   I have some friends over-seas who may not know what I'm talking about.  The links are informational only. 

For the love of...cotton pajamas?!?

Alex has this new thing.  He doesn't like the feel of his pajama's.  Any of them.  He's officially boycotted all his jammies and is now sleeping in his underwear.  He's decided he doesn't like the "feel" of his old pajamas.

He simply woke up one morning and decided against polyester.

Honestly, I can't say I blame him.  The feel of polyester makes my skin crawl.  He now only wants 100% cotton.

I've tired to wait this one out for a few days, read: almost two weeks now, to see if something will change but he's sticking to his guns.  Only 100% cotton will do.

So I've gone off to Target and Walmart to see what they have.

And they don't have shit.

You know how hard it is to find pajama's that are not flame retardant?

It's bloody impossible.

And then I went back to Wally World and look what I found.

Ag-ent-PPPP!!!

I guess Disney and Walmarth don't care that much about burning babies in a house fire.  And I have to say, I don't care either.

The fact that Perry up there is from the twin bastards called Phineas and Ferb is just icing on the cake in our world.  Alex loves them.  Does it matter that I will forever have the phrase, "Moooom, Phineas and Ferb are making a title sequence!!" seared in my brain?  No.  The boy loves them.

I have learned to the necessary skill called 'selective hearing' so I'm living around them.  

I bought as many as they had and came home a hero.

If there's a fire, you're gonna die!!!

Now I have to go check all our fire alarms.  It won't do to have a fire when he's wearing those things.