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.

You make up my heart.

I had another post all ready to go up today but something happened over the weekend that I'm still trying to put into words.  I was plagerized.  Flat out, plain and simple, someone took my words and used them as their own.

One of the images/pictures I made on Facebook was duplicated, without my permission, and was passed off as someone else's work.  Let me be clear--this image was not shared as is standard on Facebook.  This was someone who duplicated something I had already done and put her name on it.  

I won't go into all the details here.  I can't.  I won't.  I guess I'm not quite ready to go there and, for as much as I loathe to admit it, I'm a grown up.  I'm not going to go to a base level and start slinging mud.  I will not bring myself, this blog or anyone else down to that level.  I believe in a certain amount of respect and while others can, and do, play in the mud, I will not.

And to be honest, this will probably be one of the most disjointed posts I've ever written.  I can't seem to get what I want to say out in a coherent pattern or order.  Words fail me for many different reasons.

The thing is, those little sayings I make on Facebook are important to me.  It's how I feel.  Sure, they're sappy and they totally go against my snarky side but at the core, it's how I feel about my son, my family, my life and my friends.  I love them all deeply.

And to have someone take that, to claim it as their own, is wrong.  It's flat out wrong.

(I would love to name each and every one of you who helped but I fear we will all be blocked.  Who will keep an eye on things then?  That would just not do, not do at all.)

So those of you who saw what was going on and decided to do something, anything, I am in awe of you.  There are so many people who did what I could not do alone.  You stood up for me, stood up for what was right, and together we were able to do what I simply could not have done on my own.

I am humbled, awed and left without words.

You see, I have always grown up telling myself, "You have to do this on your own.  No one else will do it for you."  I've had that wedged into my brain since as long as I can remember, so asking for help is foreign to me.  I don't know how to do it.  I was scared to death to reach out to you.  And when you all did help me?  I was brought to my knees. 

Those of you who helped me, you know who you are.  I know you do.  Please know that you have a special place in my heart.  You are the friends I've never met but you mean more to me than you will ever know.

While one person may have destroyed my faith in humanity, you have resotred it beyond measure.  And you taught me something else, something about me.  Something that I've been preaching but too busy to hear my own words.

I'm not alone in any of this.  I have the support, friendship and love of this community that I never knew I had.  Turns out, you were always right there next to me, it just took someone stealing my words to make me see what was right in front of me all along.

And while someone may have taken something from me, you have given me my heart.  You've filled it up, handed it back and made me see there is hope.

Thank you.  Thank you for doing something that made me see what was right in front of me all along.  You.

My family. My friends.  My community.




Note: I know there are others who can put into words what I did not and do a much better job of it.  I do not own the patent on this and I welcome you writing your own posts on this matter.  Sometimes distance give clarity and right now I don't have that distance.  


Please also know while I have been blocked from this particular Facebook page, that page owner still has access to mine and thus, my blog posts.  I expect respect in the comments and will not tolerate rude or otherwise defamatory remarks.    

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.  

Our i-Things have left the building.

I have been limiting our time with the i-Things since we had a little bit of a malfunction over Spring Break.  The kids thought it was their inherent right to play them 24/7, down to bringing them into the bathroom while they were on the toilet.

After trying to explain that having an i-Thing was a privilege and not a right and after having to tell them that more times than I care to remember, I believe I made the fatal mistake of yelling out: "That's it, I've had it.  Hand them over.  You will now only get your i-Thing after, and only after, all your work is done around here."

Not that I'm all into child labor or anything like that, but I do expect my kids to eat their meals and get dressed in the morning without screaming they can't pull their arm through their sleeve because their damn i-Touch is stuck.

And like a bad case of VD I could not undo what I said so I had to stick with it.  Sure it involved more negotiating and haggling than when we bought our last car but I think we all came out the other end with a fair settlement.

So now when the kids are done with their homework and spelling words we play games and generally bug the crap out of each other.

We're using the chalk table to practice spelling words.
Way cool.
And yeah, he was super pissed he spelled 'accidentally' wrong.  

We play games called:

• In the Olden Days When Mom Was Little and There Was OMG Nothing to Do
• How to Get Naked and Moon the Neighbors 
• Now I'm Really Bored, Is Dad Home Yet? 
• Oh God, Why Do You Cooking That Again When You Know I Won't Eat It???
• How to Disassemble Remotes and Put Them Back Together and Hope Mom Doesn't Notice
• and my personal favorite, Poo or Puke?  Make Alex Puke by Standing Him Next to Gracie After a New Poo Diaper Dump

And for our record keepers out there, the girls are winning 2-0.  The Poo or Puke game is not working in Alex's favor.

As I was making dinner the other night, I left the kids to their own devices with some construction paper and markers.  Alex came up with a board game that made me smile from ear to ear.  He made number cards since he didn't have any dice and even made small cards to use as playing chips.

Click on it to super size.

A player starts off with $20.00 and the player with the most money at the end of the game wins.  He has things such as renting a hotel room--loose $0.21, you get robbed--loose $1.00 and fixing your neighbor car--get paid $90.00.

Granted it's all about money and seriously, a robber only takes a buck, but how cute is that?  I love it.

He's laughing, giggling and so proud of himself.  In this moment he is happy.

Instead of playing i-Touchs in the evening while Alex is getting his asthma meds and nebulizer, we've been playing his game.

And I'm loving every minute of it.

Every Single Minute.

More than shells.

So I have one last thing that happened on vacation...

Earlier in the week I had gone out to a beach south of Blind Pass and I met another woman.  OK people, I'll tell you right now: it does not go that direction.  I'm good but not that good.

Anyway, we spied each other but kept our distance.  We respectfully kept our shell nets in own little area in front of us and played nice like two grown-ups are taught to do.  See, all that sitting around in Social Skills has paid off.

But in my mind it went a little something like this:  Shit. Shit. Shit.  She found the only good shell pile on this island and now I have to frigging play nice and share.  Damn it.  It wouldn't be so bad if this God damned island didn't decide to not give up any shells.  Maybe I'll bide my time here tonight and come back tomorrow.  Yeah, that's it, that's what I'll do.  It's a negative tide for God's sake.  You can bet I'll be back tomorrow.  Except earlier, way earlier.  I'm going to get here first.  

And that's exactly what I did.

See, I planed our vacation around my shelling habit.  Sure, the kids like the beach.  But I like to look for shells and since I'm in charge of this whole operation we went to the beach that has shells.  And wouldn't it figure, the island wasn't producing any shells.

Zilch. Bubkis. Nada. Nothing.  No good shells.

That and the negative tide bit.  A negative tides when the tide goes back into the ocean further than normal so you can get/see more shells.  Yes, I planned our vacation around that too.  So when I found this shell pile with this lady attached to it, there was no way I was letting go.  

But something happened.  She said, "Hi" and we started talking.  And talking.  And bit by bit I started to like her.  We got along.  She was the nicest person ever.


Ever people, ever.

Turns out she's a kindergarten teacher and when she asked why I was out here shelling without my family, or anyone at all, I responded that I needed some alone time because of all the stress and everything else that goes along with having a kid on the Spectrum.  All the OT/PT, Speech, Child Psych and lets not forget all the extra fun that comes along with school.


She got it.  She understood.  And she was kind.

And that's why when she pulled an alphabet cone, horse conch or anything else I wanted out of the ocean I was not in the least bit jealous.  I was happy.

On this trip I came away with a lot more than shells.

And for that I am grateful.

Happy Fourth of July.

I would like to thank those who make it possible for me to live in a country where I can be free.  To do what I want without repercussions.  To have a voice and to have a choice.  

And to live in a country where I can have my kids do weird things like this:

And afford me the opportunity to take pictures like this: 

And eat enough hamburgers, hot dogs and watermelon till I feel sick to my stomach.  Because that is my choice.  

It is not without pause that I say Thank You for the sacrifices you and your families have made.  Made for people like me, to remain free.  I do not know the angst of sending a family member off to fight.  I do not know what is like to see them leave.  To have them come back.  The same, yet different.  

To fight for causes that are beyond me.  

All to keep me safe.  And to be safe at home.  

My freedom comes at a price and for that I thank you.  

Thank You.