This falls under the category of: I couldn't make it up if I tried.

I think we all need a break from last week.  Am I right?  I'm not going to talk about it here and if you've been out in Autism Blog Land, you'll know what I"m talking about.  For those of you who don't know, send me a PM and I'll discuss it further off-line.

The rest of us, I think we need a break.  So I give you what happened to me while I was up visiting my sister in Oregon.  

I'm sorry, I didn't know I needed a flash at 10:00 AM. 

We were on some random beach Ohhing and Ahhing and I hear someone shout my name.

OK, I have to stop right here.  I don't live anywhere near Oregon.  I live in Leawood Kansas.  Kansas people, is a long way from Oregon.  The odds I'd run into someone on the West Coast---slim to none.  

My sister lives a few streets over but her job took her to Oregon for a few months and she asked me to come up and visit her.  Since I was dealing with all sorts of things here, I jumped on the chance.  The odds that either one of us would bump into someone we know on the Oregon coastline is pretty minimal to say the least.  

So, I hear someone exclaiming, "Lizbeth?  Lizbeth, is that really you?  Oh My God, no way!  It is you!"

I'll tell you right now, it doesn't take much to confuse me.  And I was thoroughly confused.

At first I thought I was hearing things, thank you Zak Bagans, and when it dawned on me that I wasn't, I just stood there refusing to turn around.  Maybe they would go away.  

Have I mentioned confrontation is not my strong suit?

And then because we've were driving through the mountains looking at all these pretty streams and we kept giggling about was how hot Brad Pitt was in A River Runs Through It and Legends of the Fall I was kinda hoping for something, I don't know, something better.   

Dude, I can totally see Brad fly fishing this stream.  

I mean, how in the hell did someone recognize me?  There was only one other family stupid enough to be out on the beach besides my sister and I, and I was in about fourteen layers, excluding hats and gloves, since it had been raining for like three months solid there.  I was a cold, damp, soggy mess.  

This was the most we saw of the sun.
Yeah, I can't really find it either.  

Eventually, I had to turn around because I could still hear this random man exclaiming, "Lizbeth?!?" 

Remember that other family?  

Turns out, it was an old boyfriend I had way back when, when I was in college in Cincinnati.  He now lives in Oregon doing God only knows what. 

I would have found out more but his wife was pissed as hell.  

Yeah, about the family part.  He was all super happy to see me and reminisce and his wife, well, she was not.  Boy, she was pissed.  We were barely through introductions before she hissed, and I do mean hissed, "It's raining, were leaving.  Now Andrew."  

Like and idiot I mention that were leaving too and I got such a glare-stare from ice wife I mumbled something about staying for a bit to look at the pretty agates and sea stars.

And the rain bit, seriously?  From the looks of the place, if you stood still long enough moss would grow on you.  The place practically bled water it was so damn wet from all the rain.   

She turned around and stomped away, two kids in tow.  Before I could even tell him how cute his kids were we hear, "Now, Andrew.  NOW."   

*An awkward moment here as we both look at each other wondering what to do.*

I told him to hurry up and catch up and off he went.

Someone remind me the next time I start a blog,
sea stars on the west coast are ugly.

And it took them forever and a day to leave because they had the kids, and they had to buckle them in car seats, and pile in all their beach shit in the back of the minivan, and since I was on vacation I forgot how long it takes to stuff everyone and everything in the minivan and quickly shut the door so nothing falls out, so of course we ran into them in the parking lot.

*Awkward moment number two.*

Man, was he getting his ass chewed.  Something about being stupid, could have left well enough alone, blah, blah, blah....God, I felt bad for him.

My sister and I?  We couldn't stop laughing. 

My daughter is a master manipulator, drama queen and I can not stop cracking up...

So it was my daughter's sixth birthday.  She woke up like a little princess and came down the stairs like a fairy floating on air.  Weightless.  A thing of beauty.  A wonder to behold.

And then she started talking.

"Mom, it's my Birthday!!!  That means I get to stay home from school?  Right?"  She's all super excited and is  wearing her party dress.  Her hands running down the sides of it so the layers underneath crush and poof back out.  

"Um, yeah, about school.  Hon, you still have to go to school today.  Mrs. Abram's has all sorts of great stuff planned for your birthday.  You can't let her down, can you?  It's going to be great and I'll stop by at lunch to eat with you."

"Mom, my throat hurts...."

"What?!?"

"Mom, it really hurts.  I can't swallow.  It hurts really bad."  And just like that she starts sobbing and drooling and acting like she's dying.

Anyway, the rest of the morning routine went out the window and, don't call social services here, but I hauled my little drama queen out of the house, into the car and stuffed her in her classroom all the while complaining she was going to die.

I'm not home from school for more than thirty minutes before I get a call from the school nurse telling me Lizzy's in her office complaining of a sore throat.  I told her what happened this morning and we both got a good laugh and she turfed her back to the classroom.

Then I go into see her at lunch.  Her teacher sees me and tells me how she thinks Lizzy's really sick and should go home.  She even tried to get her to color and she just started sobbing and exclaiming how her thorat was killing.

And I'm all like, "Really??  You think she's sick??"

And her teacher's all, "I think she may need to go home, she doesn't look good and she's just so upset.  Poor thing.  And on her birthday."

And I'm still all, "Really?  We're talking about Lizzy, right??  You're buying all of that, all the tears and boo-hoo-ing??  How bout I go eat with her and see what's going on?"

So, in good faith I went over and had lunch with Lizzy.  And here's what Lizzy had to say:

"Mom, it's so great!!  It's my Birthday and I told Mrs Abram I didn't want to color and I started to cry and I GOT TO MEET THE SCHOOL NURSE!!!!!  She's so neat!  And then I came back to the classroom and I didn't have to do any of my work when I started crying again.  I'm soooo hungry.  Can you open my ketchup?  Thanks so much for Wendy's for my Birthday!  I bet I won't have to do anything if I keep crying.  This is the best day ever!!!!"

She's saying all of this while stuffing in four chicken nuggets and a handful of fries in her mouth.  It reminded me of one of those contests where someone stuffs as many cigarettes in their mouth as they can.

"OK, lets back up here, honey.  Does your throat hurt?  At all???"

"Huh?  What??  No, I'm hungry.  Can I open my presents when I get home?"

And that is the true story of how my daughter played her teacher like a violin on the fifth day of school, on her Birthday.

The truth fairy

I am going to go down in the Annals of the Worst Mom's Ever.  I know this fact and yet I can bet you a million dollars I'll still act all surprised when they call my name to accept the award.  And I WILL accept that award.  I've earned it.

I had to do something I've never done before.  Leave my daughter with our swim instructor for the last few minutes of her lesson so I could take Alex to an appointment.

My mom had Gracie at home who was down for a nap so all that needed to be done was for Lizzy to wrap up swimming and come back home with her instructor.  Which wasn't really hard since our instructor has known the kids for years and had her car parked in our front drive.  They literally had to walk 500 feet from the pool to our back yard.

So she was with people I trust.  What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out a lot.

Apparently Lizzy's seen one too many of Alex's meltdowns and decided that as soon as I left the pool deck she was going to try one on for size.  She decided she was going to boycott the last of the lesson and splash her instructor a few times for good measure.  The splashes were not the "we're having girl fun splish-splashing" but rather the "fuck this, I'm done with swimming and I hate you kind of splash."

My mom tells me this as I come home with Alex, right as I hit the door, before I can even get the keys in the dish.

This is the second thing this week Lizzy's decided to up and boycott so clearly she thinks this method is working for her.

So when I see Lizzy eating a snack and ask how her lesson went I was shocked as hell to hear her say, "It was OK.  Can I have more juice?"

"Sure, you can have more juice.  The lesson was just OK?"

"Yeah, my legs were a little tired but it was OK."  She's acting like there was nothing wrong.  At all.  Had my mom not accosted me at the back door I would have been none the wiser.  But she did.  And I knew Lizzy was BS-ing me.  Big time.

"Oh, that's good to hear it went well.  I'm sure when the Truth Fairy swings by tonight she'll skip right by us because, you know, when you tell the truth she just keeps on going."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her flinch.  Just a little bit but it was there.

Here's the part where I'll fill you in on the Truth Fairy:  One time I caught Lizzy in a boldface lie.  So as not to be outdone by my five year old, I made up a lie of my own.  One that was bigger and better.  Meet the Truth Fairy.  She comes round during the night and for little boys and girls who are not truthful.  As she waves her magic wand those little miscreants who were not truthful reap the demise of her magic wand and their noses grow and grow and grow.  So in our house, if you don't tell the truth and fall asleep, you wind up with a nose like Pinocchio.

Hey, I never said I was proud of this moment.  Nor do I remember taking a test prior to becoming a parent.  Trust me, if I did there would be a world with three less children in it.  It would fall under the category of Parent Fail.

Anyway, she has the stones to look me square in the face and say, "Nope, the lesson was fine."  And continues on like life's great.  Not a care in the world.

I let it rest.  Truth be told, I was a little miffed she had the stones to call my bluff and raise me another lie.  No need to question DNA here folks.

She spent the rest of the day having fun.

Fast forward to later in the evening when my sister asks, "Hey Lizzy, how'd your swim lesson go?"

I hear this squeamish, "OK..... Mom??  Mom, I splashed my instructor."

"Oh you did?  That sounds like fun!  I bet you and Tracy were having a blast, just the two of you.  It's always nice to have some private time."

"No, mom.  No.  I was mad and splashed her."  Her bottom lip started to quiver.  She was clearly worried.

It was getting awfully close to bed time.

"Ohhh, you splashed her?  And you were angry?  That's not good.  What do you think you should do?"

"Say I'm sorry.  Mom, is the Truth Fairy going to make my nose longer?"

"No honey, let's go home and get the phone and call Tracy."

And that's what we did.


I have no idea how long the Truth Fairy is going to be swinging by our house but you can bet my lilly white ass I'm going to be taking it as far as I can get it.




Note:  I was not able to post on Monday.  There are two things that I have agreed with my husband that I won't write about publicly: our marriage and his family.  Turns out both downright sucked this weekend and needed my attention.  Thanks for the understanding.

Big puffy clouds

My daughter and I have very few opportunities to spend time together, just the two of us.  So when the opportunity arose, we went to the park as quickly as we could. 

We went for a walk, looked at all the birds and watched the fish swim circles in the lake.  It was too early yet to catch butterflies and the few we saw, we chased after and giggled.  Reminded them we would be back when more of their friends came out. 

We sprawled out on the grass, looking up at the clouds. 

Searching. 

Looking for animals and flowers and all kinds of wonders to take shape and appear.

"Mom, it's nice to look up and see big puffy clouds.  Do you think Wyatt's up there?  You know, in heaven?"

The weight of his death was brought plummeting down on my shoulders and knocked the wind right out of me.  

Breathless. 

Silent. 

She was peering at me, out of the corner of her eye.  Questioning.  Trying to put things to rights.  She was finally asking questions.  My little girl, trying to wrestle with something she should never have to.  Something very few adults can find peace with.

She still thought of him.  Two years later and it still resonates with her.  I don't know why it wouldn't.  I think of him every day.  For some reason I thought she packaged it up nice and neatly and moved on.

"Mom?  Mom??"

"Yeah, baby" I whispered. 

I spied her, peering at me.  Searching, looking for a sign.  I continued,  "I know he's up there playing in the clouds.  See?  See that??  That looks like a lamb.  I bet he made that just for you."

"You really think so??"

"Sweetheart, I know so."

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

My daughter had her Preschool graduation the other night.  A real snoozer.  I needed toothpicks to keep my eyes open.  I was getting grim satisfaction that Alex was messing up three families worth of viedotape.  He was playing Zombie Smasher and all you could hear in the background was this munch, munch, munch of the zombies eating.  Every once in a while you'd hear Alex grunt with frustration and say, "Zombies, you're mine!  Die, Zombies, die!"

I was sitting there reading all your blog posts, trying how to figure out to comment without giving up my real identity because my phone has that nifty stamp that says "sent from soandso's I-phone."  Thanks Verizon.

Anyway, I look up to see my daughter moving on to the stage. 

I wave frantically. 

She sees me.  She waves back.  She's beaming.

I'm beaming. 

Her eyes are locked on mine.  Then she points at her chest.  She takes her index fingers and makes the shape of a heart.  Points right at me.  And smiles a big radiant smile.

She's got me.

I'm blubbering like a school girl.

Then this song comes on:




Ignore the fact his big sweaty Hawaiian man boobs are bigger than mine. 

That song gets me Every Single Time.  Now I'm a train wreck.  Blubbering, snotting, no tissues, splotchy face mess.  I made the biggest fool of myself. 

It was the best night ever. 

Zomebie Smasher included.

She's in there...

How can something this beautiful turn ugly?

Wedge her ass in a crock, that's how.

I have no idea how this happened but when I went into the laundry room I found Gracie firmly wedged in one of the crocks I use to store the kids socks.  

We have this routine after dinner.  I loosen up her bib and she rips it off, runs down to the laundry room and shoves it in the washer.  She laughs hysterically.  For whatever reason she thinks its the funniest thing ever.  I go with it since she's actually putting her clothes away.  Something I've yet to teach the older two.     



I guess she did this before throwing the bib in the washer.  Slacker.



She actually gave up and started sorting socks.  Amazing.  Could you even imagine the language if that was my ass stuck in there?!?  I don't think, hell I know, there's not enough soap in the world to wash my mouth out and get it clean again.  And I would most definitely NOT be sorting socks. 

And yes, we do have shirts...I took it off since she didn't like dinner and stuffed it all down the front of her.  She's as cheeky as the rest of them...

The green eyed monster

I've bored everyone enough talking about Bike Camp (you can read about it here, here and here) so I'll switch gears and take a minute to talk about my daughter, Lizzy.  She was really upset that Alex had all this face time with me while at Camp and she didn't.  And it's something that's a reoccurring theme in our house.  

From her point of view it goes a little like this: Alex spends time with mom.  Mom spends time with Alex.  Mom loves Alex more than me.  I hate Alex.  End of story.

She's five, what did you expect?

Lizzy's old enough to see that I do spend an inordinate amount of time schlepping Alex to all of his therapies.  She sees that as time away from her.  Even when I bring the her with me to an appointment it's the sheer fact that we're there for Alex, and not her, that gets her goat.  She's jealous. 

She's not old enough yet to know that what we're doing with Alex, all the appointments, therapies, social groups---it's all work for him.  Hard work.  She only sees that I'm spending time with him and that equates in a five year old mind to me loving him more.  

And I hate that she picks up on it and perceives it that way. 

I've had a talk with her, one about how her brother's different and some things like tying a shoe or throwing a ball are hard for him.  She hastily responded, "Well, mom, I already know that!" like I'm an idiot.  She's not quite grasped the understanding that Alex's differences require extra time and extra work.  She's not quite there in understanding that my love for her is not dependent on face time. 

We do manage to do things, just the two of us.  We go to the park and catch butterflies.  We go to Dairy Queen.  She paints my toes a bright I'm a hooker pink and I smile, say I love it and wear it for weeks.  We walk the neighborhood and count the fountains.  I secretly think she does that just so she can come back and tell Alex how many we saw and gloat.  Just to get under his skin, cheeky little girl. 

But she's just not there with the understanding.  I know one day she will be.  She'll love him as fiercely as I do.  But right now she wants to kick the daylights out of him and in some ways I don't blame her.  I'd be a little pissed too if my mom spent more time with my brother. 

And that's one of the many ways this thing called autism, SPD, whatever you call it or what ever you have, spreads like a nebulous cancer and affects us all.