When did we get so busy?!?

So the problem I'm having right now is life is getting in the way.  You would have thought that with school starting I'd have some free time.

Nope.

We've had some family drop in unexpectedly and a situation at school that I will post on later but not now.  Right now I just need to get through today and breathe.  While in theory those are small things, in reality they have blown up in our faces.  Because of that I've been a bit absent.

And because we're also working on this:

After one hail storm, three appraisers, one mitigator, arbitration, two contractors, three attorneys and eighteen months, we've finally been given the go ahead by a certain nameless insurance company to rip off the roof and start over.  Now we're in the process of picking a roof, garage doors, gutters/downspouts and exterior paint and trim.

Want a good way to freak out the kids in your family?  Make plans to rip off your roof.

I swear, the only saving grace with the drought in Kansas has been the fact we've not had any rain.  That was, until last week, when the remnants of Hurricane Isaac dumped three inches of much needed rainfall into our laundry room.

Right before the Irish Festival Lizzy was dancing in.  And right into the light fixture because well, why not?

To say Alex got the shit scared out of him when he turned on the light was an understatement.  "Mom!!!  MOM!!!  There is water coming from the light in the ceiling!!  Water and electricity don't mix!!  Mom, we're all gonna to die! Aggggghhh...."

He lost his mind and went on and on about the issues we were going to have with the house burning down, electrocution, and other untoward results from water dripping out of the light fixture.....

I just looked at my husband and said, "Fuck.  Flip the breaker, get a bucket and lets go."  Which is exactly what we did.

Minus our tickets to the Irish Festival.

And minus Alex's headsets.

In the midst of talk of electrocution and death by fire, getting dancing shoes, tackling the toddler and finding snacks and bug spray, I somehow managed to forget them.

Awesome.

Day one.  I'd like to think of the Irish Fest as more of an
endurance event....

So we got there and Lizzy danced her ass off.  She was awesome.  Gracie ate her weight in Cheeto's and Alex and I played War all the while discussing how a person could die from being electrocuted and all the finer points of an electrical current when it runs through human flesh.

Center Stage baby.

My girl was center stage.
And no, none of these girls are my baby. 

Yup, that's right.  We played a good old fashioned game of War in the middle of her dance routine.  In our defense, it was almost two hours long and was in 100 degree heat.

We sat through the whole thing playing cards and talking about death by electrocution.

Awesome.

And I couldn't have been prouder.  All the noise, crowds, heat and stress and he did great.  Sure, he turned into one big hive later that night, but he got through it that afternoon.

Day two.  

So while Lizzy danced, Gracie ate and Alex and I played, I looked around and came to a realization.  I may be busy, I may be stressed and I've had absolutely no to time to write but....life is good.

Life is good.

Now, anyone want to help decide on garage door and trim color?

The wedding that was.....

So we made it back from the wedding up in North Dakota relatively unscathed.  And by that I mean we're all alive.  We made it back home and I was never so glad to be back in our house.  Not to say we didn't have fun, we did.  There is just a unique sort of hell that goes along with being trapped in your own car upwards of eleven hours, two times, that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.

Things that may, or may not, have happened:

• We had a flat tire smack in the middle of Iowa.  I take that back, I really don't know where we were.  All I know is, we had to drive back to get to a Toyota dealership to replace our Dunlop no-flat tire.  The irony didn't get past me on that one.

"MOM!  They have rules at the rest area!"

• We may have trashed the waiting room of a certain Toyota Dealership.  I tried to clean up as best as I could but they had a popcorn machine.  It was a no-win situation. 
• The kids may have felt-up all the taxidermy bears, deer, turkey and ducks at my friends house.  Her husband may have started a new nervous twitch when he saw Lizzy stroking a fur backwards and named a duck Sparkle.
• I may have had a drink too many after we lost the baby at the rehearsal party and it may have happened about the same time Alex was puking off the side of the pool and it may have happened the exact same time Lizzy got her toe stuck in the base of a table. 
• I may, or may not, have said, "Lizzy stay here while I go find your sister.  Wait, you can't move, your toe's stuck.  Well, small blessings."  
• Lizzy may or may not have screamed so loud you could hear her in Canada.
• When we found the baby she was out in front, with the smokers, trying to borrow a lighter.  Alex may, or may not have, proceeded to question them about their choice to smoke and he may, or may not have, pulled up an image of a  "smokers lung" from his i -Touch...
• Lizzy may have sat through part of the wedding sobbing because her, "vagina hurt."  Turns out it was not her vagina, it was her underpants crimping her style.  

These make me giggle every time we pass one
and if you don't get it, I'm not telling

• Alex may have read off every single exit on the map and we may have stopped at every rest area so he could get a new map and not miss a thing.  I may have stopped listening somewhere outside of Kansas City.   
• We may have had approximately fourteen fast food meals in a little under four days.  The teenagers at Long John Silver's may have wanted to kill our kids for ringing their bell over 3,000 times.  
• And we may, or may not, have had Juano's Mexican food over three times while in Fargo because it's Alex's favorite.  I may, or may not have, spent more time than I would care to admit on the toilet. 
• We may, or may not, have had a great time seeing old friends and thinking about old times.

Kids saying goodbye. 

Don't get me wrong, we had a blast.  The kids had fun, we were exhausted and I swear I think I aged several years when the baby went missing.  So that was our weekend that was, up in North Dakota.

While it's good to be home, I miss my old friends.

Steer clear of I-94. We're going to be on it.

By the time you read this we should have worked our way from south Kansas City to North Dakota.  See, we left on Thursday to go to a wedding.  A wedding that we could not miss.  One that under any other circumstances I'd have written it off and sent back the reply card with the "Unable to attend," box checked off faster than you can read this paragraph.

But....but.

This is a wedding we didn't want to miss.  It's the wedding of a dear friend.  She's one of several friends that make my heart stray to the Northern Plains.

North Dakota: home of the sugarbeet, soybean and sunflower.

And then we turn right back around and come home on Sunday.

And then school starts.

And because of that, we're anxious, nervous and stimming.  We've had a volley of emails regarding meeting new teachers, of which we have three new ones this year, IEP concerns, agendas and the list goes on.

Somehow our summer is over and we're right back to another school year.  And I'm loathe to see it happen.

Like a switch, Alex has been turned on, stimming---flicking his wrists, shaking his head back and forth at lightening speed and melting down at the slightest of things.

I'm sad to see our summer melt away, right before our very eyes.

So by the time you read this, we'll have dealt with car sickness, cussing, swear words and more fights than you can imagine.  And all of that before we're even out of the Kansas City metro.  Add to it, I have a new found fear of our car tire falling off, and visions of how horribly wrong our vacations can go, and I'm nervous too.

I don't know how much I'll be able to access the computer over the next few days, as it's our go to item when Alex is stressed.  If I don't surface by Monday I'd start to worry.

Like you couldn't see this coming...

I went back to the pool.  I took all three kids back to the pool to see what would happen.  I had to get that image of my daughter floating lifeless on the bottom out of my head.  I'll tell you now, it didn't remove the image, but it did bring my comfort level back at taking all three of them to the pool by myself.

Go here if you want to get caught up.  

At some point in our marriage, my husband bought each of the kids their own kid size broom.  You know, so they could help me clean.  Most of you know, I have a few issues about keeping the house clean and I can't stand having dirty floors.  Consequently, I'm always sweeping and mopping.

Now I'll let it be known right now, I'm not missing out on the kids formative years.  It's the only thing I know to do to de-stress while I have the kids home with me twenty-four/seven.  Since I've been a bit stressed with all our fun going on this summer, you could eat off my floors right now.  

Anyway, I told the kids they aren't allowed to have their swords in the house.  They can practice in the garage or on the porch, but I draw the limit at having swords in the house.  Last time they had camp, they had nunchucks and it was a colossal mess.  They brought them in and were nunchucking everything in sight.  I think the only thing that saved us was the fact our gross motor skills suck so bad.  You should have seen how clean my floors were then.

The brooms have left the building.  

Anyway, at some point, all three brooms made it into the house and Alex and Lizzy were practicing forms in the family room---with the brooms.  I let them practice because it was the first time that whole day they were actually quiet and to be honest?  It's was too damn hot outside.

Out of nowhere I hear a THWACK then, "Ouch!"  Immediately followed up by another THWACK then, "Ouch!"

I heard all sorts of commotion, a little rolling around of the floor and I think I even heard Lizzy saying my favorite expression, "God Bless America!"

Then I got bombarded with complaints from Alex, "Mom, that's not fair!  She didn't do the forms at all!  Gracie just came in and hit us on our heads.  That's so not fair!"  To which I turned it into a bit of a life lesson and said, "Well honey, sometimes life isn't fair.  Do you think when you get into a fight people are going to follow the forms?"

Alex looked at me, looked back at the two year old, his wheels turning.   Without missing a beat he goes, "Like this?"  And he thunks the baby on the head with his broom.

And do you know what I thought, smack in the middle of another cat fight???  I thought, "Yay!  He's generalizing!"

Shortly after that, all three of the brooms made it back outside and in the garage.

Just reaffirming you're glad you're not me.

Is it wrong that I've been letting Gracie think a Mylar balloon is really a pet?  For the past two weeks?  And she's given it a name?  And it goes to bed with her?

Yeah, probably.

We went to the dollar store and she immediately saw this balloon and said, "MINE PET!"  After realizing negotiating with a two year old was not within my grasp, I settled on buying some balloons and got out of the store before she found something far worse to latch onto.

I will love it and stroke it and call it George. 

I had to get two more balloons because, really, it was the path of least resistance.  The last thing I wanted to do was to haul my ass up back there, two hours later, with all three kids.  There was no way I was going to live through that.

I got three balloons and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

And to totally change gears, our daily mecca to the pool has come to an end.  I made the rouge decision to take the kids on a play date at another neighborhood pool.  I think that was my first mistake.

The thing is, when someone asks if Alex wants a play date, nothing short of a prison sentence is going to stop me from going.  He gets so few invites that when someone does show an interest, we're banging on their door before the phone even gets hung up.

He was so excited he couldn't sleep the night before and I think he burned more energy flapping than he did swimming.  It made me smile to see him that excited.

See?  We had to go.

So we went.  We will never be invited back.  Ever.  Gracie made sure of that.  Within the first five seconds of getting there, Gracie saw the water and just waked right on over to the edge of the pool.  I saw her and started screaming at her, "Gracie, get away from that water.  You don't have you floaties!  You get back here ri-----"

And she went in.  Head first.  In the deep end.

I stood there for a minute and I think I thought, "Did that really just happen?"  I knew it did but it wasn't computing.  And then it did.  It clicked.

"OH FUCK.  OH FUCK.  GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

I could see her floating, face down, slowly going down to the bottom.  She wasn't fighting, wasn't swimming, nothing.  Just sinking.

Her hair was wisping, beautiful black wisps, in the current.  I remember thinking how beautiful that was.  I will never get that image out of my head, ever.

I dove in, grabbed her arm and pulled her out.  She was so heavy.  I was heavy, I still had my clothes and shoes on.  It was all so heavy.

The other mom was at the edge of the pool and grabbed her as I thew her out of the water.  There was a pause, the single most longest pause in my entire life, and she coughed.  She coughed up water and puked and then without missing a beat said something like, "Whew!  Dat's wet!!!"

Mine watering cans.....

Totally taking a whiz...

And that is how you lose ten years off your life, your hair turns white and you never go to the pool again.

As it turned out, the kids had a great time.  They invented a new game called, 'fake drowning.'  We stayed for an hour, that's time limit before it all goes pear shaped, and we went back home.

I'm pretty sure we won't be invited back though.  Something about one of you kids having a near drowning experience is a bit of a turn off.  And honestly, I can't say I'd blame them.

Small blessings though, Alex just looked at her when it was all over and said, "Well, it's a good thing you're not dead.  That would have really interfered with my play date."

Ya think???

Who knew the pool pop machine could be so interesting?

It's been hot here and my only recourse, other than keeping the kids inside, thus completing their plot to drive me completely insane, is to take them to the pool.  Normally I don't like going to the pool for a number of reasons.

Here are just a few:

• I don't like being in a swimsuit.
• I'm not really a fan of water.
• Taking all three kids to the pool is a borderline recipe for a murder/suicide.
• There is usually puke involved.
• Followed by copious ammounts of swearing.
• One of them invariablly wants a snack, the only snack we didn't stuff into the frigging pool bag.
• Followed again by copious ammounts of swearing.

But it's been a long hot summer.  The only thing to do when it's this hot is to go to the pool and stay in it.  So that's exactly what we've been doing.  Right after sword camp, yes that is still going on, we get a quick lunch and head to the pool.

And even at the pool the kids have been fighting. "That's my floatie!  I had it first!"  Alex exclaims, exasperated, pointing to the baby, who realizes pretty quickly a conspiracy is about to happen and takes off running.  

"No, Mom, that's mine!  Make her give it to me," screams Lizzie, grabbing the baby, followed by, "Mine, Mine, MINE," from the baby who is now fighting Lizzy on the ground.

"Mom, my ears hurt!  Make her give it to me!  I had it first!" Alex screams, feverishly flapping.  Lizzy's still claiming its hers and the baby's now screaming rapid fire, "MINE, MINE, MINE!"  Both girls are now entwined, werstling to the death.

"No, you didn't you didn't have it first, I had it first...MOM, it's mine!"  Lizzy screams one more time followed by an, "OUCH!!" from the older two because the baby has slung the offending toy,hitting them squarely in the face.

And all of that was before we had gotten in the water.

So when this guy showed up, it was like Jesus Christ coming down from the Heavens giving me a brief respite from my own kids.  Thank you Jesus.

See, he even had a beard and everything.

Alex rounded on this guy faster than I don't know what, he never saw it coming.  I did and mentally said, "Ah, fuck it."

"HI!  My name is Alex and OH MY GOSH are you going to open the machine?!?  He is!!  He is!!"  Alex screams, "Mom, come over here, QUICK!!!  He's going to open the machine!"

"This is soooo cool!!!"

And before I could even get to him, Alex had worked his way into the pop machine and was telling this guy how it works.  "Did you know when they money comes in, there is a scanner???  Yup, there is!  And did you know, when it comes in there are different spots for the money to go, depending on the currnecy?  But not Canadian money!  Did you know you have the most aswesomest job in the world?!?!"

"Look, is that where the cooling
agent is kept?  Is it freon?"

This went on for what seemed like hours and I tried to get Alex out from underneath this guys feet....it was so not going to happen.

Vending machine guy said it was all right, he'd talk to Alex for a bit.

And for the next twenty minutes or so, he and Alex were knee-deep in conversation about the finer points of vending machine mechanics.

He was my savior.  Sweet Jesus came to me in the form of soda stocking man.

When he was all set to leave, he came over and said, "You got yourself a real special kid there, take care now."  And with that, he left.

I didn't have a chance to say thank you, or to say anything, he had gone that quickly.  I was left thinking how kind he was to listen to Alex.  To interact and engage him.  To give him the time of day and make him feel special.  He has no idea what it mean to me, to Alex.

I think he's pretty special too.  And I'm not talking about my son.

Even an Autism Strong Mom needs a little help.

I've managed to get a few minutes to myself which I find ironic since my kids normally won't leave me alone to go to the bathroom.  I figured something out and that is, if I stay near them for a few hours they get sick of me and retreat to their rooms for a few minutes.  So I took them to the pool, wore their asses out and now they're off destroying their rooms.

I'll take it.

Most of you know my mom lives here with us.  As in, she lives in the same house with us, under the same roof.  Sometimes people ask, "How can you live with your mom?"  I know what they are implying and I oftentimes get an eye-roll or a snide remark.

I let it all slide.

I don't have the heart to tell them, we can't live without her.  She helps out with the kids and she helps me in ways only another Autism mom could understand.  She gets it.  She knows the other two suffer when I'm pulled to therapies, meetings and when I'm up with worry, trying to sort things out with school.  She knows what its like when Alex is having a bad day and she's there to help.

She gets it.

And I've been struggling lately.  I have a sister who lives in Australia and last week my mom went to visit her.  She'll be gone till almost the end of August.  For me, an eternity.  And I encouraged my mom to go.  I think she should go and I don't want her to feel like she has to stay here and help me, at her expense.  I never want that and I want her to spend time with my brothers and sisters and her other grandchildren.

So if you're wondering where I've been lately and why I've not been around, its because I'm without reinforcements.

How to scare the crap out of yourself?
Put all three in the pool at one time. 

Add to it, its been super hot again here and the kids are reacting.  Alex hasn't been happy with the heat and having to share me completely with the girls?  None of them are liking it.

Oh-My-Fucking-God.

Alex has been stimming and constantly negotiating a better hand at Monopoly.  It never stops.  Every moment of every day, Monopoly.  While I joke about things most of the time, I'd be a liar if I said it didn't wear on me sometimes.

This is one of those times.

And this brings me to a bigger issue, one I know we all think of, and right now its keeping me up at night.  I often joke that I cannot die.  I have to live forever, or at minimum, I have to live long enough to give him all the skills he needs to survive in the world.

I can't die till my job is done, until he can fly.

So I'm trying to get to you as best I can but please know my absence isn't for a lack of trying, its simply from not being able to do everything for everybody.  Sometimes I have to take care of myself, and my family, and right now that's what I'm trying to do.

You see, my son has yet to fly.

I will beat boredom with a stick if I have to. Someone hand me a stick.

Remember last week when I wrote this post about how my kids were bored and driving me insane?  Well I was out at a store and found this:

And I was all, "Boredom, I'm going to kick your ass.  Thank you very much Table Topics, you have saved my life and together we are going to survive this summer."  And I picked those things off the shelf faster than my kid spying a box set of Lego's.  And for a brief moment I was happy.

Happy to have something new to do and secretly?  I was lying in wait so the very next time my devil-spawn issued that horrible whine of, "I'm bored" I'd be ready.

And of course it took two whole days for them to utter that little phrase and when they did, I pulled that box out of hiding.  Alex started giggling and Lizzy started eye-rolling.  Gracie, I don't know where she was.  I think she was napping.

Anyway, this was the very first one we pulled out:

Are you fucking kidding me?!?  A ninja?  Seriously?  Did they not read my last post???  I swear the world is conspiring against me.

We did it anyway and they found a spider behind a chair in the living room (mental note to call Orkin) and a few lost Burger King toys and then somebody touched something and before I knew it, I was separating them to opposite corners of the room.

Moving, on, we pulled out the next one:

We did and our cake turned out like this:

Awesome.  Pure awesome.  My husband's birthday cake, a complete and utter mess.  It self destructed in the most unnatural and horrible way I've ever seen.  We could only get like five candles on that thing before the rest of it slid right off the top.  We still ate it and best of all?  We laughed.

Then we pulled out the next card:

My short answer on this is, "No, no she does not like surprises and no she most certainly does not like balloons.  And blowing up her own frigging balloons for her own frigging surprise?  No, no, no."

Moving on....

Now we're talking.  Silence.

I will tell you, this lasted for about one minute before I heard, "Ugggh, this is sooo boring!"


Note: I was not endorsed for anything here.  Table Topics probably doesn't even want to know what else we did with their little cards.  I link to them as a way to give credit,  where credit is due.  And we did have fun with them, we still are.  

This is what happens when you don't pay attention to your husband.

My husband had a great idea for the oldest two.  I wasn't listening when he mentioned it and I gave him a, "Sure babe.  Sounds great.  Whatever you think hon," and finished dinner.  Since I was being an exceptionally good wife, I promptly forgot about it.

And that's exactly why my kids are now in Sword Camp.  Let that be a lesson out there to you ladies....listen to your husbands.

SWORD CAMP.

Yeah, you read that right, Sword Camp.  My kids are in Sword Camp.  Remember how much fun we all had when they were at Nunchuck Camp over Spring Break?  It's like that but with big swords.

Look ma!  Free tee-shirts!

I've had to repeat that several times because I can't quite process it.  Swinging swords around, clobbering each other.  We're actually spending money on teaching our kids how to kill each other with swords.  Nice.

Because one sword is never enough.

It's like natural selection at its best.  I feel like I'm Darwinizing my own children.  And because it's a camp, and at camp kids get free things, they are now the proud owners of two swords.  Each.

They each have two swords. Oh-My-God-Un-fucking-Believable.

One's made out of bamboo all thatched together and the other one's made out of some random hardwood.  The kids tell me the bamboo sword hurts "way worse" than the other one.  I didn't ask how they found that out and I'm not going to either.  There are some things a mom just doesn't want to know.

I walked in early on a class one day and they were swinging around metal swords.  Real metal swords.  Oh-My-God-Un-fucking-Believable.  I almost passed out.

Like light sabers.  But not.

Alex sees me and is all, "HI MOM!  Look what I'm doing!"  All proud and happy.  He's waving his hand around and here's a key bit of information: he forgot he had a real metal sword in his hand, so he was waving that around also.  I let out an "Oh Shit" and dove on him like I was at the Who concert, trying to stop that sword from swinging.  I almost got gutted like fish in the process.

He was beaming.  Waving that big metal sword around, proud as anything.

I think I lost a little bit of my life in that moment.  And I almost pissed myself.

After that, I made a decision: I don't watch.

I have learned from their Nunchuck Camp and this time around, the swords stay in the car.  There will be no sword fights over summer break in the house.  There will be no beating the shit out of the windows, sofas, chairs, each other.  No, none of that.  I don't know how I'd explain to the Emergency Department that they got pissed and had a sword fight in the living room.  I'm sure it would garner, at minimum, a Social Services Consult and I have to tell you, I don't have the intestinal fortitude for that right now.

So I'm guessing it would surprise no one that while I was peeing, they kids had a sword fight in the garage.

No, it really didn't surprise me either.

I'll take a stint in the Sanibel slammer.

Today's Friday.  I know I'm stating the obvious but there it is.  This is the day we play around with Ryan Gosling like we're married to him and it's all good.  Not at all like that nutter Cody and his four wives over on TLC.  That dude and his family make me look like a model citizen.

Seriously Cody? Get a haircut.  I don't know how they all willingly bang you but they do.

Anyway, please go over and see Sunday at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and visit the other blogs joining in today and don't forget to wear your Poise.  I promise you will piss your pants.

So what you don't know is that we will be working our way towards Sanibel tomorrow.  I may or may not go silent for a good two weeks.  It really depends on the Internet connection, whether or not my kids will let me have a few minutes of alone time (on the toilet) with the i-Pad and if anything blog-worthy happens.

If it's like the last few times we've been to Sanibel, then I suspect we'll be harassing the TSA agents in no time flat.  If you don't think we have a good time go here and click on all the "here" links within that post.  You will soon realize how lucky you are not to be me while on vacation.

That and because I saved a robin's nest while trimming the shrubs, my back is still hurting like a mother and I'm on a number of high quality pain killers.  The upside is, I don't give a shit what happens,what we pack or if I wind up sitting in a jail cell for taunting the TSA.

I call it better living through Chemistry.  My husband calls it the quietest the house has been in months.

Whatever.

Oh the joys of travel, back pain, and three kids...

Here's the catch though, I'll be relying on you guys.  See, if I don't check-in on Facebook or make myself know in some fashion, I'd like bail money sent to my PayPal account by Tuesday.

Oh fuck it, who am I kidding?  If I'm in jail it may be the first time in ten years I get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I get to lay flat on my back without having sex and I generally can sit motionless for vast stretches of time excluding the cavity search which I may, just may, enjoy.

I take it all back.  A short stint in the slammer may be just what I need....


Note:  I do not have a PayPal account, I just made that up.  And yes, I'm totally drugged right now.  Can you tell?  


Like I've done on past trips, feel free to go wild in the comments or on Facebook: Four Sea Stars.  Let everyone know I have herpes and went to seek help or something like that.  I know you'll come up with something good, I have faith. 

Memorial Day

Memorial Day, 2012

My thanks to those who have served and lost.  

My thanks to those who are serving.  

My thanks to all of the families.  

You are what makes this country great. 

Thank you.  

A somewhat wordless Wednesday.

 For as much as I am loathe to admit it, the seasons are changing.  We're out of summer and into the shorter days of fall.  Here are some images from the park that we go to on a pretty regular basis.

We are slowly settling into the routine of school and getting used to the sun setting earlier and earlier.

And taking breaks outside when we can as I can see the window on nice weather coming to a close.

I tried to get Alex to come.  He didn't want to go as he's not fond of the outdoors.  I think he said something along the lines of, "I can see nature perfectly fine from the kitchen window.  Thank you."

It was a little moment of alone time with Lizzy.  We managed to find fish and snail shells in the pond and spent a few precious moments together.

Sorry, no pictures of me almost falling in the pond or the foul language that accompanied it.  I'll leave that to your imagination...

Go on and touch her already. Just a little touch.

Do you ever just get to the point where you go, "Eh, Christ, I'm sick of this and I want to go home."  Only you are home and there really is no other place for you to go? Anybody?  Anybody??

Or is it just me?  If its just me, please be generous and lie and make stuff up in the comments.  Tell me about your pet pony, I don't care.  

So I've gone on and on about how blissful our summer has been and like a vise grip getting tighter and tighter I can see my happy little boy slipping away from me.  Out of my grasp.

Our window is closing in on us.

And I'm scared.

I can see Alex's sphincter tighten as we get closer to next week and I'm dying a thousand deaths for him.

We had our last swim lesson and he was so sad and mad and I don't know what that he went up and slugged his instructor.  Normally he loves this girl.  Not today.  He didn't know how to tell her he was sad and mad and I don't know what and the next thing I knew he hauled off and just slugged her.

Even with his back turned
I know.  

Everything has been so rough on him in the past few days.  He's been trying desperately to hold it together and he just fell apart today.  And of all things it was when we ran out of cookies at the pool.  Cookies.

And he melted.

"Mom, Lizzy ate all the cookies and I'm hungry."  He's already started bawling, his chins quivering, snot running down his nose, over his lips and down his chin.  Rivers of tears streaming down each cheek.

Like a switch that's been turned on, I can see what's coming.

"I'm so hungry, Mom.  I want to go home."  He's pacing in circles.  Flapping.

"No babe, we're not going home.  Lizzy's not done with her lesson.  We have to stay."

"I WANT TO GO HOME!  I WANT TO GO HOME NOW!  NOW! NOW! NOW!  TAKE ME HOME NOW!"

He's going in circles, faster.  He's still sobbing.  And flapping.  He gets to our stuff and starts throwing the empty cookie bag and launched it across the pool deck.  Moved on to tossing the water bottle and all the goggles in the pool and got part way through our bag, chucking things out before I could get to him.  And I was all of one chair down.

Lizzy, not a care in the world. 

What he lacks in coping skills he makes up for in speed.        

"No.  No, hon.  We're not going home.  We have to wait."

"I WANT TO GO HOME.  NOW!  I WANT TO GO HOME!"

He's moved on to sobbing hysterically, his whole body wracked with waves of angst.  "I WANT TO GO HOME."  I'm trying to hold on to him.  He's pushing me away.

He's moved on just that quickly from throwing things to curling up on himself, on the pool chair.

It always amazes me the fury that can be unleashed in a split second.  And the next, yet just as startling, is the child curled up so tightly in a ball, so vulnerable.  Scared.

"I know.  I know.  I know.  I'm sad too."  I say sitting next to him, trying not to get too close for fear of setting him off again.  "It stinks that Tracy has to go away for college and this is your last lesson.  I know that.  It makes my body sad too.  And I'm a little mad and a scared too.  Ya wana go over and tell Tracy you'll miss her?  You don't have to say anything you can just go over and touch her.  Just a touch.  She'll know what you're saying."

"NO.  I WANT TO GO HOME."  He's not moved an inch, just talking to me through the slats of the pool chair.

"I know, I know. But listen to me.  Did you know if you use your words, she'll understand your feelings?  She will.  Trust me.  I bet she's sad too."

He sat all though his sister's lesson curled up in the fetal position.  Was a moody as a feral cat coming back home.  Refused to talk to Tracy the rest of her time with us.

Right as she was walking out the door he went up to her.  Touched her on her hand and walked away.

He's been up in his room on his computer ever since listening to his music and making mazes.

There are so many things that are upsetting to me about what happened.  I know this scenario will replay itself all day, just with a different trigger.  He was unable to use words but for him to make that move, that touch, gives me pause.

It gives me hope.

Crazy is as Crazy does.

I lied.  I'm going to dig deep and go back and talk about my vacation for this post.  There was one last thing that happened on Sanibel that I thought only Flannery and Grace would truly appreciate.  Then I'll be all done with this Sanibel stuff.

Promise.

Remember how I said I like to go shelling?  Well I do.  I go out on my own and stake out the best spots on the Island.  I bring my net, water shoes, sunscreen, power bar and some water.  I take my phone and at my husband's insistence, it's double or triple bagged in Ziplocs so it won't get wet or sandy.  I chuck it all into a small string backpack and I'm off.

Remember how I met the awesome sheller from one of my last posts?  Well, we did a lot of shelling together and she always had her husband with her.  I even mentioned that I thought he had her micro-chipped as he always seemed to know exactly where she was.  Anyway, she was telling me the reason he's with her is that she was out here one time and some guy came out buck naked and streaked from the shrubs to the ocean and back.

That freaked my shit since there weren't any houses around.

And between you, me and the walls, I was a little miffed that no one came streaking out from the undergrowth when I was around.  I mean really, he couldn't just give me a courtesy run?

So there I was, on my own, staking out shells.  I noticed this guy off in the distance and I didn't think anything of it.  I stuck my head down, found some more shells and looked up.

He was coming up to me and talking.

So much for a peaceful day at the beach.

He starts to say all this stuff and I'm stuck between this guy and the ocean.  I can't hear a damn thing he's saying with the surf smashing me around.  Against my better judgement I get out of the water and am like, "Hi!"  Trying to play off that I'm not all alone.

Did you ever meet someone and you just didn't feel right about them?  Like your gut was telling you something (like RUN) but you had to use your brain and figure it out?  The whole time you just didn't feel right.  This was one of those times.

"Hey how are ya?  Good, yeah?  Nice day to be out.  I'm in from Jupiter for the day and thought I'd see what I could find.  Everyone says Sanibel's great for shells but I'm not seeing much.  How bout you?  You finding anything?"

Ummm, yeah....Jupiter you say.  That sounds about right.  Christ.  No need to check, my freak magnet's on.

"Yeah, I'm good.  Just out for some shells.  Found a few things" I say keeping my head low, trying to ignore the shell bag in my hand.  Trying not to appear interested.  At all.

"Yeah, what'd ya find?"  He continues, looking right at my bag,  "Cool, is that a sand-dollar?  That sure is!  You're really lucky to have found one of those.  They're hard to find."

"Sure is." I say as I reluctantly acknowledge my shell bag and the sand-dollar within.  I start trying to head back to the beach with more people, starting to wonder how I can inconspicusly get my phone un-triple-Ziploced without being too obvious.  

"It's really nice to see people like yourself getting out and exploring things.  Did you know there is a lagoon right up there?" he says nudging his shoulder, pointing right up and over the bluff.  "Did you want to go and see it?  I hear it's pretty neat.  Come on, I'll take you, it's right up there."

This is where I lost my shit.  Answered the question if he thought I was alone.  This freak wanted to go explore a lagoon and slice me up six ways to China.  In that time I'd be lucky to unZiplock one bag from my phone.  One bag.  I'm screwed.  And it's so frigging hot, I'd decompose in like, twenty minutes.  I know this, I've watched all the CSI's.  Some bird's going to swoop down and eat my eyeball.   I should never have watched all those CSI's.  Damn you Anthony Zuiker.  Maybe I can start leaving PowerBar crumbs.  Seagulls don't eat PowerBar's do they?  Crap, they eat anything, who am I kidding?  I just fed them half my nail polish from my toes as a joke and they ate it.  Great, now PITA's going to be up my ass-hole if I live.  And I can't even dial my phone since its bubble wrapped six ways to China to protect it from the elements.  Accckkk.  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME???  Why am I fascinated with China, six different ways when I am about to die?  That's totally weirding me out.  That $300 piece of shit phone is going to be the only thing left of me, all wrapped up nice and neat.  Maybe the phones made in China?  Acccckkkk.  Thank you Ziploc and your I-can't-open-you-in-an-emergency-but-my-meat-won't-get-freezer-burn-but-it-won't-matter-when-I'm-dead-bags.  Maybe you can market that after I'm good and gone.  


I hate you I-phone.  I hate you Ziploc.


Crazy man from Jupiter is still NOT SHUTTING UP about the damn lagoon.  Now what??  I promised Alex I'd make home-made pizza for dinner.  Who's going to make my kid dinner if I don't get back?    


"I think I'm going to have to get going" I say.  "I bet it's nice but I have to be heading back."

This freak followed me all the way back to Blind Pass where some guy named Lou started talking to me and telling me how pretty I was.

See Spanx lady in the background???

I CAN NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP.

I am not pretty.

See look.  Skinny, yes.  Pretty no.

Of course I've not shown you a picture of my face but rather my ass but hey, in my defense, my ass is prettier than my face.

And for the record, I felt like I was in some fucked up temporal vortex.  I had to actually look around and see if this new guy was really talking to me.

Yup.  Yup, he was.

Truth be told, I was never so happy to see Lou in my entire life.  He shook loose the psychopath from Jupiter so I went with it.  I let him go on with his crazy-ass self till I found my way back to the car.

The next day I went back.  This time with my husband in tow.  And guess who's naked hump I saw running out to the ocean?

Yup you guessed it.  I found my streaker.

Vacation Complete.


Note: I have no idea why I decided to share this story.  It clearly shows how much weirdness I attract and all the thing I do wrong to magnify my situation.  But in my defense, I didn't want to bring my husband with me.  Sometimes you just want to get out and be alone.  Clearly that did not happen.  I'm thinking of going back in November or December with my sister for a long weekend.  Anyone wanna come?  It would be like BlogHer, but not.  


Oh, and that sand-dollar Jupiter was checking out?  When we got home Gracie stepped on it and smashed it to a million little bits.  

See, it's impossible for me to do a wordless day...

We actually set a record high yesterday.  It was 108 degrees at the Kansas City airport and it was 111 degrees closer to our back door.  I went for a walk last night and it "felt like" 114 degrees.  That's bloody hot.  I'll do somewhat of a wordless day today in an effort to conserve energy and to maintain my sanity in this heat.

I received this award from my lovely friend Jazzygal.  You totally have to pop on over and visit her.  You'll like what you find.  Now I will tell you, I've been lame and received this award back in June while I was on vacation.  And while I never really forgot about it, I was remiss on doing anything with it.  Thank you Jazzy and sorry for being as lame as I am.

I took this picture when we were at the pool that shames all other pools.  Look off the the left of the man.

Read the sign...

That gave me a giggle.  Probably not what they had in mind...

We've had a few days where we've skipped the pool and have been out in the sprinklers.  I think most of the water evaporated before it hit the ground or just upped our humidity levels...but it was fun none the less.  

And yes, I let them pee in the shrubs and drink from the sprinkler.  I stand by my statement that the sun is browning out the yard.  It is not all the urine.

Drinking from a cup: overrated.  

Teaching the baby to drink like dog.  A useful skill. 

Summer.  

Where the "feels like" temp has been over 100 for the past month and the sun has been slowly baking the yard to a crisp yellow.  Like hay.  

Where the trees have gone into seclusion and have been dropping leaves. 

Where the kids are getting good and bored.  

And learning everything they should, without the onus of a classroom.

Where my kids are happy.

And where, at the end of the day, the house is a mess, the kids are minus a bath and the dishes are still in the sink.  

But they are happy.  

Which makes me happy.

And where I'd like to remain for a good long time.  

Summer.

Note: Clearly I can not do a wordless post.  And no, I have no idea how I lived in North Dakota for over ten years.    

And a thank you to all my friends out here who have so poignantly shared their lives and experiences. Without that, I would not have slowed down enough to appreciate what is right in front of me all along.  Thank you. 

I'm sick of our pool so I cheated. I'm a pool cheater.

So we went to another pool last week.  I shoved them all in the car and off we went.  It's been so hot here and after a while there is only so much you can do at your own pool besides burn the bottom of your feet screaming, "Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!" till you can get to your chair and put your flip-flops on.

Since we moved to Kansas two years ago we've come to find out that every neighborhood has their own pool.  Upkeep is built into the association dues and they are so outrageous I've been determined that by God we're going to use that damn pool till I feel our rates are justified.

So we've been there every day our schedule allows.

I guess neighborhood pools keep the homicide rate down.  I don't know.  I've never seen so many pools till I moved here.  Either way, our pool is within walking distance of our house so its easy for us to spend a lot of time there.  But we've spent so much time there the kids are sick of it.

And going to this other pool was like we were cheating on our own pool.  And to be frank, I want to start a love affair with this one.  A dirty piece of work that would be but this thing was HOT.  It had cool water dumping things, life guards, more water dumping things with wheels and tons of other things.  Did I mention life guards?!?  And there was another little pool that was nothing but water and only went to four feet deep.  Then there was a wave pool specifically designed for tots.  There was a water slide as well.

See, it was a thing of beauty.  Worthy of my love.

This new pool shits all over our pool.  Look at that thing.  Our pool is a basic hole in the ground with a baby hole off to the side.  I'm embarrassed to show you pictures.  But this thing?  This thing??  A thing of beauty.  Pictures do not do it justice.  

Again, worthy of my love.

But since it costs $36 admission for the day, plus food, drinks and snacks which was about another $36, it was a one shot deal.  I don't care how swank this thing is/was I'm not going broke over a pool.

Coolest pool ever.  

And the kids loved it.

I about crapped my pants several times loosing them in the water structures, having visions of them floating top-side before I could get to them.  Nothing like that happened of course but I guess that's precisely why it didn't.  I can't imagine bringing my kids to the pool and even thinking of:

1. sitting down  
2. enjoying a good book
3. texting till my fingers were numb

All of which were things I saw parents doing while their children were reenacting the Lord of the Flies.  I don't get it.  

Grandma and Gracie, far right.  Her lady bush
was tucked in.  I checked.

Alex loved it.  It had this big pot at the top that emptied every 2 minutes and dumped out water.  I know this as a fact.  I know because we timed it.  A squillion times.  We then took the average of the dump times and rounded it out.  Blamo, two minutes.  Alex was not pleased with the lack of precision associated with rounding numbers but I suppose he is correct.  Rounding out numbers is quite useless.  

My favorite part?  Zero entry.  And misters at the water's edge.  Misters.  They had misters.  So your little feet didn't get all hot and burnt.  Swoon.   

This was the best part for Alex.
Waiting for the pot to empty with his swim instructor.  

While I was taking this picture I had several thoughts running through my mind but one thing outweighed them all.  And it was this: all his stims, quirks, stress/anxiety related motions, articulations and tics are non-existent right now.  Sure, we have a few bumps and last night really tanked but nothing like during the school year.  

He's relaxed.  

He's happy.  

He's having the time of his life.

And I want to take this time, stop the clock, and make it last forever.       

My son wants to make his Aunts Sim's get all sexy. Yeah, you heard me correctly.

I'm not sure how many of you know, this but my sister lives right down the street from me.  Well, not literally right down the street, but if you cut through my back yard and cross the street you get to her street and then she's four houses down on the right.  I know this because every time I slip into casual conversation that my sister lives "right down the street."  I am assaulted with, "No, no no!  That's not right.  Aunt Nichole does not live right down the street.  She lives behind us, though the back yard, across the street, and four doors down on the right.  That's not right down the street, mom.  Duh." 

I stand corrected. 

Crap I forgot what I was going to post about. 

This is where I get up and wonder around the house a bit.  Kick around a bunch of toys and see that the kids have not killed themselves, each other or are thinking of planting the baby in the empty planter on the back porch.  True story.  And as I look over and see the kids on their I-touches I remember it.    

So after Alex bugged me so much to go to his Aunt's house last night that we showed up on her doorstep unannounced and uninvited I was a little more than pissed when he started with all of this garbage in under five minutes of hitting the door:

"UGGGHHH. I'm bored." 

"There's nothing to do here." 

"How long do we have to watch those guys on bikes?"

"There's nothing to do."

"UGGGGGHHH.  I want to go home."

"How long do we have to be here?  Can I watch TV?"

"UGGGGHHH.  How long do we have to stay here???"

Yup, after begging like a misbehaved dog for forty minutes straight, he wanted to go home.  He wanted to bail on the same place he begged to go to in the first place.  Anyone see the irony here?  Not to be out done by my spawn I started up with:



"No, we are not leaving." 


"You can find something to do."


"Go find your Uncle."


"Bug him."  


 I said, "Go Find Your Uncle."


"No we are not changing the channel.  Your Aunt and I are watching the Tour."


I said, "We Are Watching The Tour."

I don't know if you know this either but I'm a road biker so watching the Tour de France is akin to a pedophile asking a kid if they like candy.  And I love candy.  Right now the Tour is my candy.  So, NO, that TV channel was not being flipped.  Period.  

Once a year in July we have a new house rule: Do Not Mess With the Tour.  Oh yeah, screw you Contador.  And buff men on bikes?  In spandex??  In the hot, hot, hot, summer???  Bliss.  Its not like the pool ladies in Spanx, or that crappy chocolate.  The Tour is more like soft porn.  Go watch and you'll see.  It's easy on the eyes.  See?  See why we watch???

Anyway, while we were getting all glossy-eyed watching beautiful men on bikes my sister may have mentioned something to Alex, something along the lines of, "Hey, do you want to play my Sim's?  You can make Aunt Nichole and Uncle Rob do things like go swimming or sleep."  


I don't know.  Remember?  I was watching hot, sweaty men in tights. 

Alex didn't stop complaining till he heard four magic words: "It's on the computer."  At the time it struck me as odd, something akin to saying in that sickly sweet voice, "Does the dogie want a treat?"  And you can actually see the dog stop in mid-motion and go, " Err?  Treat??  Did someone say treat???  I wanna treat.  Where's the treat?"  

Alex was like that dog.  He cocked his head off to the side and said, "Computer?  Aunt Nichole, did you say computer??"

Fast forward to today where I've been harassed since about half past the ass crack of dawn about the Sim's.  Now he has to have a game.  Not only a game, but the game he was playing last night.  And that is just not possible.  We simply cannot take the game off her computer and plop it onto ours. 

Add to it, my sister's game is part of the Sim's Ambitions.  That means he can make his Sim's Aunt and Uncle get all romantic with each other and have babies.  My seven year old is NOT MAKING SIM'S BABIES.  

The Sim's can swim naked it the pool, get in fights, flirt and kill each other.  Not necessarily in that order.  They can rob the neighbor and eat their dog for dinner and call it chicken.  He can make them take a cab to diner and get all sexy in the bathroom.  Add to it, the Sim's do things they want to as well. 

So no, he's not getting my sister's Sim's game.

Nor is he getting a Sim's game of his own.  I'm not caving and just giving him a $39.99 game right now since that's his new thing.  And I'm not spending $6.99 as an App for the I-pad either.  It's not about the money here.  He's going to have to work with me on this one and:

1. Leave me alone for a little bit about it.
2. Show me he can not talk about it for a period of time.
3. Show me he can earn it.  
4. Respect my decision.
5. And this is a big one here: try to work with me and think of other things and other ways to get unstuck. 

And that is why I now I have a seven year old who is wondering around the house trying to convince me that he'll die without the Sim's.  Why I've been harassed since 6:00 AM about the Sim's.  Why I've been assaulted with all the reasons why the Sim's are great.  Why they're worth having.  Why he's dying a slow, painful death without them. 

And I get it.  Really, I do.  For him the pain is very real.  He has to have it.  He's stuck on it.  Fixated.  He can't get it out of his head and can find no alternate solutions even when they are presented.  They can not work in his mind.  He's been in meltdown mode and will continue to be all day and well into the night. 

This is truly an issue for us.  Something he needs help understanding and processing.  I have to be able to help him get it, to understand, to become more flexible in his thinking.  Try to help him work through this and gain an understanding of just why we can't always get what we want, when we want it, regardless of the situation. 

Which is precisely why I'm holding firm and making him wait for the Sim's.  Heck, he may not even get it. 

I do him no favors by giving him everything he wants.  When he wants it.  Just because he wants it. 

Trust me.  It's killing me as well. 

And guess what?  After a day of making our lives miserable, he woke up this morning and has not mentioned a peep about the Sim's.  Not a word.  He may have moved onto something new.  I don't know, he may just be plotting his next move.  

I don't know.  I may never know.  

But I do know this: even though yesterday was a living hell, I'm glad I held out for today.