If this is not rock bottom I'm gonna be pissed.

You know what is awesome about pneumonia?

NOTHING is awesome about pneumonia, that's what's awesome about pneumonia.

My kids gave me one hell of a cold that turned into a sinus infection that turned into a antibiotic resistant strain of pure evil that set up shop in my lungs.  Anyone else thinking of that Musinex commercial now?  For the past two weeks I've been working on breathing.  Just breathing.

And when I'm sick its amazing what gets lost in the cracks of everyday life.

The kids had an after school art program they were begging to go to, just begging.  I signed them up and promptly, and totally, forgot about it.

So that Monday my daughter went out after school for me to pick her up only I wasn't there.  Somewhere in the back corner of my mind I knew she had after school art but here's the rub: she did not.

I didn't remind the kids what the day looked like from our daily calender and she didn't know.

After twenty minutes of standing outside, the secretary figured out what was going on and ushered her into the art room.  You know, the art room her brother was happily sitting in, crafting away.  See, he remembered he had after school art.  It just never crossed his mind to see where she was.

When she walked into the art room and saw him happily crafting away she broke down in tears all over again.

When I went to pick the kids up I was pulled aside, told what happened and again my little girl went turned into a complete and utter puddle.

I felt horrible.  She was out front waiting for me and I never came.  Talk about feeling like a shitty, horrible parent.  I calmed her down, bribed her with a trip to Dairy Queen that was mostly more for me and I thought things were right with the world.

Only they weren't.

"You don't love me.  You hate me.  I think I want a new mom.  If I had a new mom, she'd never forget me.  She'd love me...and make me cookies....and not forget me in front of school."

All the way home.

I had enough.  I snapped pulling into the subdivision.  Pulled a hard right and curbed the minivan.  All the safety harnesses were working on the seat belts.  I confirmed it.

"GOD BLESS AMERICA, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you!  Mommy's sick!  I don't feel good.  You guys gave me some horrible plague and I'm sorry I forgot one little thing.  I'm sorry!"

Cough, cough, cough, hack, hack, cough.....shallow breath in and....

"You know, you guys are old enough to look at that calender in the morning and see what is going on in your lives.  It's up there for a reason and it's most certainly not there for my health.  Now I want QUIET for the rest of the way home!"

And I pulled back out onto the street and drove the whole fifty feet to our house in silence.  Only to walk inside and to be met by a calender that looked like this:

She in PJ's....don't judge. 

And two kids, exclaiming, "See!!!  How can we possibly know what is going on, Gracie drew all over it!  This is all your fault.  Our new mom would never let this happen!"

I gave up.  I swear, one day I will have grown children that can function for themselves.  God as my witness, I will.  They may be in therapy for the rest of their lives but by God, it will happen.  

Right now I want their new mom to come in here and see what she can do with this place, she can start by cleaning that damn calender board.  That things a mess.

February you need to go away, like, right now.

February and I have a love/hate relationship going on.  For me, it's mostly an all hate kind of thing.  It's cold, dreary and even with the hint of spring right around the corner it's hard road to get to the end of those twenty eight days.

In my head, I've been telling February to go fuck itself over twenty times a day.  It's like it's on repeat in my brain.

First we got sick.  Then we got better.  Then we had Valentine's Day and I made the off hand comment at my daughters party, "Holy Cow!  It looks like half the class is missing."  Turns out, half the class was missing and I know exactly what they gave me.  A horrible cold.

And the kids have been home for almost the whole month.  They had parent teacher conferences for two days followed up by Presidents' Day.  Not to be outdone, we had Winter Storm Q pound us and the kids were off another two days.  A State of Emergency was declared and it snowed.  And snowed and snowed and snowed.

Fuck you for that, February.

I thought it would be fun to go out and play in the, you know, snow.  Not so much.  It took over forty minutes to get into snow pants, socks, boots, coats, hats and gloves and even then Alex took a single step out the back door and retreated inside exclaiming he was done.  The girls went out for ten minutes only to retreat inside when they got snow in their mittens.  Ten minutes.

And to think we lived in North Dakota for ten years.

Because the kids have been off school so much, either because of planned events, sickness or snow days, they've been dysregulated.  They don't know what day it is, if they should be getting ready for school or what they should be doing.  It's been awesome.

I took a huge leap, put us on a schedule and did some homeschooling.

They hated it.  They hated me and they hated everything about being home and having to learn something.  I was cutting into their Minecraft time and by God they let me know about it.

I turned off the computers and they suddenly realized that, by God, I was being serious.

We studied, we learned and I think they had fun.

And when I asked, "Who wants to go outside and play?"  The forty minute bitch session was pared down to ten minutes and begging to be let out.  I guess they didn't have as much fun with me teaching as I thought...

They were out the door and in the snow in record time.

We made forts, threw snowballs and laughed.

You know where this would be pretty?
Some place other than my back yard, that's where.  

We dug out from our winter storm and things were getting back to normal.  Taking the kids to Tae Kwon Do, I fell in the parking lot.  I cursed February with my middle finger and a slew of beautifully strung together obscenities.

I'm sorry if you were in the minivan next to me when I went down but really?  That hurt like a mother.

We only had a few more days.

And then they said we were going to have another storm.  Bigger and badder than the last one.  Up to twenty inches of new snow on our already foot and a half.

Again, even prettier if this was your back yard.
Someone want to help me pick up branches?

That's exactly what we got.  Additional snow, snow days and more homeschooling.

I think my kids hate me.  I think I hate February more....but now I have one day left.

Just one day left in February and I can flip the calendar.  There's something about the promise of March.  Sure we live in Kansas and the threat of tornados looms large but we'd be out of February, into the promise of Spring.

I can do this.

I'll take my chances and risk tornados any day of the week just to get past the cold, snowy days of winter.

And then I thought I died.

I got all excited and happy that I was back and then, like all things, fate slapped me around a bit and showed me who's boss.  I'll give you a clue, it's not me.  Gracie came down with the stomach bug.  Now for those of you who have stuck with me for a while, you know how much I absolutely detest puke.  How much it makes me nervous, spin out of control and generally go insane.  And you also know how that is inversely proportional to how much my kids do, in fact, puke.

They puke all the fucking time.

Gracie was so sick, I had to have my neighbor pick up some meds for her to stop hurling, I couldn't get her to the corner Walgreen's without hurling.

It was either that or we were trudging down to the Emergency Department to get an IV.  For seven hours, we'd been sitting next to each other with a bucket so she could spew.  Seven long, horrible, frigging hours.  In that time frame she nailed me in the face and at that point I knew it was over.  My only thought was, "Innoculation complete."

I Cloroxed my face, mouth, neck and even my tongue for good measure.

And she got better.  A day went by and no one got sick.  I didn't get sick.

I was happy, I thought I had beaten it.  And I got cocky.  I was all, "Suck on that norovirus!  You were on my face and I beat you.  I win!  I'm a God."

Only I wasn't.  

I got sick.

One minute I was fine and the next, well, I wasn't.

And for the love of all things good and holy, I wished I was dead.  I have no earthly clue what that child brought into this house but I was sick.  Like, I was sicker than sick.  I threw out my back puking.  I stopped counting the number of times I barfed at sixty one.  My jaw popped out of socket and at no point did I think, "You know what, one day this will be funny and we are going to sit back and laugh and laugh and laugh."

Bait and switch.  Look at the pretty ocean while I talk about puke. 

And I'll just fast forward through all the gruesome details because they were flat out disgusting.  Now I'm up and amongst the living wondering where in the hell two good days went and what in the hell happened to my house.  It was like our toy closet blew up and all the kids were sitting in the middle of it having the times of their lives.  My husband and I clearly have two different views on how to keep the house.

And then I after another day I though I was in the clear.  No one was sick.  I got all cocky.  I thought, "I'm bad ass, I cleaned that norovirus out of this house.  I'm a cleaning God."

But I was wrong, I was so very wrong.

My husband got sick.

Then Alex got sick.

And now I must go and admit my defeat.


As an update, we now have the flu, or a cold that is suspiciously like the flu, in our house.  Alex is home from school telling me all about Minecraft.  Awesome.  

I'm trying to get back to everyone's blog but I'm having a really hard time.  Some of the word verification combinations are killing me!  I know spam is an issue but I can't seem to get past some of them and for that I'm sorry.   

What's missing...

So I'm back.  I took some time away and before I knew it we had holidays, birthdays, construction, IEP's and all kinds of fun with the flu and other assorted illnesses.  Awesome.

But I miss writing.  I miss my blog and I miss all of you.  

And what I'm going to start off with is no fun and part of the delay in coming back.  I was hoping it would go away, the dust would settle and we could all go about our business.  It hasn't, it won't and I'm over hearing about the horse that's been beaten to death.    

In the Autism community, there has been a long held belief that you are either a parent of a child with Autism or you are an adult self advocate.  Well, truth be told, I am both.  When pushed into a corner I will admit that I am on the Spectrum.  I don't feel I need to wear a badge or proclaim it on the highest mountain, that's just me.  I feel it's pretty obvious when you meet or get to know me.  It's mine, I own it and I don't feel it's anyone's business but my own.

I wrote this a while back.  Still holds true. 

You see, it's taken a long time for me to get comfortable with, me.  I want people to get to know me and not to draw conclusions based on a label.  I want the same for my son, for him to be accepted based on his own merits, achievements and successes.  You see, the world does not make excuses or gives free passes for those that are different.

Which brings me back to what I've seen recently in this community.  I've seen a complete and utter lack of respect.  A lack of respect for the person behind the screen name, the individual.  A lack of respect for what another person has said and a complete disregard for everything except their own agenda.  I have witnessed name calling, calling people assholes, baiting people to attack and agenda pushing at its finest.  I've seen both sides pile-on and add their two cents and the sad part is?  No one is listening.  No one.  How can they, when attack mode has been relegated as the new norm?

And that makes me want to walk away, not to come back.  But, but...I don't walk away from things that are important to me.  Things that I hold dear.  Things that I find unsettling for me and my child's future.   

Without respect, we will continue to beat our head against a wall, beat that dead horse to a pulp.

And here's my take, and granted, you may not like it.

When you are an adult, act like an adult.  It's just that simple.  Quit blaming someone else.  Is not up to me, or anyone for that matter, to tell you how to behave.  And if you don't know?  Then simply ask.

If you're angry, then step away.  Coming into a discussion angry and baiting will only foster those feelings.  And if  you're angry and itching for a fight, please go some place else.  You're simply not going to get a fight from me.  That's not who I am and not who I want to be.

The thing with the Internet is, other people can't read your mind, they don't know the day you've had or what life's thrown at you, and really?  Everyone has their own struggles and issues they're dealing with.  Believe it or not, they may be in a worse place than you.

While the fight goes on, this is as far as I will go into it.  I will not engage.  I won't converse with those unwilling to listen and I certainly won't be baited by those looking for a fight.  And the thing is?  There are plenty of other people like me.  Parents and self advocates who want to get along and understand each other without out a divide.  Those people do exist and when  you find them, you will know.

So I will continue to teach my child how to be respectful and kind.  I will work where I know I'm effective, here, my home, with my children and in my community.  And hopefully what I'm doing will be good enough.  Hopefully my son and others will learn a thing or two.

That is my hope.

I blame it on the root-beer floats.

Last week was a hard week for us.  Filled with meltdowns, angst, and general anxiety, it wasn't one of our better weeks.  Alex had a party in the classroom on Friday, and in hindsight, I suspect all things were leading up to that party.  I kinda sorta knew it, but couldn't wrap my brain around all he was going through.

Suffice it to say, there were too many changes in one day, too much anxiety leading up to Friday, to the party that afternoon.  Long story short, one of the things that put him over the edge was that they were having root-beer floats for the class party.  I didn't know that till we were home that evening and talking.

"Hey hon, how'd the party go?"  I asked, knowing my answer was going to be the shortest one possible....

"OK."

"Well, did you eat something?  Don't you usually have some kind of snack at these parties?"  I knew it was a pretty safe question and one he can easily answer.  It's a straight out fact, so he does OK.

"Mom, they had root-beer floats but I didn't have any.  I was very disappointed in the teachers and the other students.  They were drinking root-beer but I didn't have any.  I didn't think you'd want me to have it.  Mom, they were drinking beer," he whispered, like he was letting their secret out.

He was upset.  He was near tears, exhausted and worn out.  He didn't have a meltdown, he just was defeated, confused.

After a long day, this is what broke me---seeing him that exhausted, the literal thinking and all the anxiety that came with misunderstanding.  He thought it was real beer.  No one told him, they just assumed he knew....now I'm not assigning blame or fault.  I don't think there is any.  Alex is not one to articulate much so I suspect he kept it to himself and when they asked if he wanted any, he just declined.  

I did send in a note to school letting them know what happened and later that night, I explained what root-beer was and how it's good with ice cream.  That it's really not beer and its OK to drink.  

We settled in for the weekend, stuck to our routine and slowly things turned around.  We watched the rain fall, watched the lightening and counted till we heard thunder and made a few of his favorite meals.

And later I asked, "Hey, do you want to try a root-beer float?"  He looked at me, flashed a smile and said, "Ugggh, mom, you know I don't like carbonation.  It makes me throw up."

This time?  He knew what root-beer was.


Note:  Today is Alex's birthday, he will be nine.  I can't believe how fast time has gone!  I'm going to be busy making brownies with chocolate icing, hanging the Happy Birthday sign but no streamers and wrapping the exact Lego's he's wanted, and seen, so there will be no surprises.  Hopefully, it will be exactly the way he wants it.  

Way back when...

I've had this thought rattling around the back corners of my mind for a while now.  It's been tenuous and sometimes hard to grasp.  Right when I think I have it figured out, it morphs into something else and slips just out of reach.

I wish I had the benefit of someone talking to me early on and telling me a little something about those first few years and what they would really be like.

As Alex gets older, it's becoming harder and harder to remember those younger years and in some ways that's a blessing.  Its easier to talk about them and with time they seem less raw.  Alex is almost nine now, and while we have difficult days, hours and sometimes whole stretches of time, for the most part, our challenges are more about how to deal with challenges.  How to deal with bullies, social situations or, understanding what a person meant and then what to do.

We're not in the grind of the early years when he was two and screaming over the TV channel being changed even though it was on static to begin with.  Or coping when he freaked-out in the car for some unknown reason three days running, only to make the connection that we weren't going the same way due to construction and maybe, just maybe, going a different way was throwing him off?

Wondering if we should go out to the store because we didn't tell him we were thinking of going out even though we were out of milk, eggs and everything else.  Having to kick people out of the house as nicely as we could because it was getting close to bedtime and they had to leave or all hell was going to break lose if they did not get the fuck out of the house in ten minutes.

Knowing friends looked at you weird because you couldn't interrupt nap time or go to Mc Donald's because, even at the tender age of three, he refused to walk under those golden arches.  Knowing some of those friends would never understand and they had to be let go and fade away.

And being jealous that other kids ate more than one food and they ate it willingly.  And then going back home to sneak the protein drink mix into his milk at night so he would gain weight, and having to do it in secret because you knew, just knew, if he saw you, he would no longer drink it.

Knowing that sometimes the people you thought you could lean on and would get it were the ones who understood things the least and were the first ones to shut the door in your face.  And knowing that sometimes your own family didn't understand and the reality was, they didn't want to understand.  And deep down, that hurt the most.

And while all that was going on you had to take care of yourself.  You had to try and figure out what was going on with your kid, go to appointments and listen in shocked silence as they told you something you kinda sorta already knew.  And it still stung like a thousand bee stings when they said it out loud and it crashed all around you.

Then, there was dealing with the diagnosis.  I mean really dealing with it.  At first it was a relief.  My first thought was, "By God, I'm not crazy."  I had so many people telling me he was fine, he was just a tish excitable, he just needed a firm hand or I need to learn how to discipline.  It took a long time for me to comprehend I was right about my child all along.  That was a hard lesson to learn and one I still wrestle with today.

I will never doubt what I think is right for my child again.

And dealing with insurance and more often than not, coming to grips with how little was covered and how every therapy fell into flex account spending or fell under the category of private pay.  Wrestling with having OT and PT and Speech come into the house and set up shop and numbly nodding your head that, "Yes, you could be available for six hours a week on such and such day and PECS?  That sounds great."  And not quite knowing what PECS even was.

And somehow we've moved past those early years.  And having lived them, I will tell you those were the hardest years for me.  Having to understand something I didn't yet have a grasp on.  I didn't understand Autism and I didn't understand my child.  I didn't know what triggered a meltdown and I didn't have the faintest understanding of how it all pieced together.  I was lost, confused and scared.  More often than not, I numbly went through the motions.

I can't say what the future will hold for you, but I can tell you it gets better.  It gets better because you have an understanding, a new knowledge of how your child works.  With a diagnosis, a lot will change.  Some people will fade away and others will be thrust into the forefront.  With that diagnosis you will be given the ability to better understand your child.  You will begin to know their quirks, strengths and weaknesses and what makes them run for the hills and what makes them laugh.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, if your just starting out, it gets better.  With time, you will grow into the mom your child needs.  You won't even know it but you will.  You will start to see what matters most and what once was important becomes a mere annoyance or something that simply no longer fits in your life.  You will be what your child needs.

I'm not saying it will be easy, its not.  There are days you will fall into bed exhausted and then can't sleep from worry and the irony of that won't get past you.  What I am saying is this: you will make it.  You will make it out the other side to a place where you are comfortable in your own skin, comfortable with your decisions and comfortable with your child.

In time you will get there, trust me.  You will get there.  Surround yourself with those who understand and those who want to understand.  Give yourself time to grieve the loss of what you thought your child was and time to accept what you now know.  And know that deep down your child is no different from what he or she was a few days or a week ago.

It's not easy but you will get through.

I guess that's what I wished someone told me when we were first starting on this journey.

You will make it, your child will make it, and everything will be OK.  


Note:  I have a family member who has a child that was recently diagnosed.  This is for you, and those like you, who are just starting out going, "Now what do I do?"  I'm here if you need anything.  

Look who came back from the dead.

I must be feeling better because while I was out getting more pretzels for Alex, some dude cut me off in traffic and I immediately thought, "You stupid son-of-a-bitch."  At that moment I knew I'd come back from the dead.  Every single one of us have been sick in this house, probably with two or three different things, going on about three weeks now.

Alex was still not better after a week so we went to his doctor to check him out.  Autism and Asthma make a horrible combination and for a kid who can't tell me when he's going to puke, I hold out very little hope he can tell me if its hard to breathe.

Screw you people for jamming a q-tip down my throat.  

Turns out, we all have strep.  That would explain why my throat has been on FIRE, why I've been feverish and why I've been partly delusional, aside from my normal delusions of grandeur.

It's amazing what antibiotics can do.  Sure they're ripping through my gut like a tsunami but by God, I can breathe and for the first time in a solid week I can think clearly.  That right there, is better living through chemistry.  

Now I have to pick up the remnants of my house and get our lives back together.

I think I have:

• 15 loads of laundry to do.
• 8 missed therapies.
• 2 missed groups.
• 1 missed garden club for Alex.
• 1 possible dead crab.
• 2 dentist appointments, completely overlooked.
• 6 toilets to scrub.

And I may have:

• OD'ed three times on NyQuil by slugging it like a shot, screwing that little cup/dispenser thing on top.  
• Found three abdominals I never knew I had, while coughing/puking at 10:00 PM and 2:00 AM, respectively. 
• Wished I was dead 42 times. 
• Cussed out about 8 dragons in DragonVale that have lead to major malfunctions in this house.  I'm looking at you, Equinox Dragon.  
• And 1 sick husband. 

And don't worry, all the crabs are alive (damn-it) and turns out when you're sick you do make bad decisions so the trim on the house needs to be repainted.  You should have heard that foul language.

Aside from all of that, it's good to be back.

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?

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.

Survival of the fittest. Problem is, I'm not that fit.

I've been a bit absent here.  I don't know about everyone else but this summer's been a bit rough for us.  I've been trying to get the kids on some kind of schedule and I think I'm failing miserably.  The kids are hot, cranky, sick of each other and I'm right there with them.

By the time I'm able to sit down for a few minutes I've already got one of the kids telling me something about the other one.  They're ratting each other out like its an Olympic sport.  

"Mom, he's touching me!  Stoooop!  Quit touching me!"

"Well, I'm not exactly touching you.  I have my hand approximately one inch from your abdomen and tehcnically that's not touching you."

"Moooooom, that's so not fair!  Make him stop!"

"Ouch!  Mom, she hit me!"

The dreaded words, "I'm bored," have been uttered in this house about 189,493 times, in one day.  By one child.  I have three.  See my problem???

These kids act like I'm killing them every time I suggest an activity and they go out of their way to act like they're dying, truly dying, of boredom.  If my daughter doesn't major in Theatrics in College then you can collect your twenty bucks.  I swear, she's as dramatic as they come and I'm so screwed when she hits the pre-teen years.

Anyway, I've resorted to forcing them to do things, like go to the pool (oh the horrors) and they have fun once they get there but Good God All Mighty the effort involved just getting them stuffed out the door is mind-numbing.

Mind-numbing.

And I've come up with some responces for the kids hounding me 24/7 about how bored they are.  While I want to be involved in what the kids do, I believe they need to sort out some of their own issues.  So I've been saying this on a regular basis:

"Is there blood?"

"Are you dying?"

"Are you even close to dying?"

"No???  Then please work it out and leave me pee.  ALONE."

And it's been like that in our house for the last few weeks.  I'm a glorified referee, the kids are slowly driving me insane and I'm exhausted.  Add to it, the heat, Oh My God the heat, and I think someone may discover our dead bodies after the fact.

Cool down on Monday!!!

So I've been silent, not visiting my friends, not blogging as much and generally been absent because at this point I'm just trying to survive.

And sometimes I think surviving is enough.

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. 

Tubes and Pipes.

We have this game we play every year that started about three or four years ago.  Alex loves to do in the summer, every summer without fail.  It's called Tubes and Pipes.  I have no idea where the idea originated from but my guess it was out of sheer desperation.

Anyway, here's what you'll have to have your husband do.  Go to one of those big home improvement stores and hit the plumbing section.  Get the longest section of 1/2 inch pipe that will fit into your car.  Don't do what we did and get the longest section that's available.  You will have to cut the damn thing down in the parking lot but first cuss like a sailor because the pipe cutter is, ironically, in one of those packages that's hermetically sealed and takes a miracle and about a thousand cuss words to open.

Get valves, spigots, three way connectors, four way connectors, T-connectors and anything you think your kids would like.  Better yet, have your kid go with your husband so they can pick them out together.  Just make sure all your connectors are for the same size pipe/tubing.  Again, you can benefit from our mistakes.....

Pick up that pipe cutter and some sandpaper as well.

Also, don't forget to ask Bevis at the store for a connector to hook this whole mess up to your hose.  This is very important.  You will have one pissed off kid if you make it this far and can't get the damn thing hooked up to the hose.  Please don't ask me how I know this one small, yet very important, fact.

See those gold metal things in the upper left?  That's
what connects the whole mess to your hose.  

When you get everything home, cut the 1/2 inch tubing down to smaller sections with your pipe cutter.  Use sandpaper to soften the edges of the pipes---they will be sharp!  Throw them all into a big bucket or some other storage bin so you can drag them out and into the yard.

This is what it will look like, a big mess of tubing, valves and connectors:

But this is what you kid will be doing all summer:

We've been doing this for the past three or four summers now.  As soon as it gets remotely warm, Alex asks to play Tubes and Pipes.  I've never really figured out what the appeal is to this project, all I know is he enjoys it immensely.

He goes out and builds things and makes the water travel through the pipes.  He makes structures and tests its stability so it will hold water when it's applied.  He changes the water pressure and alters the direction of water flow by plugging sections of tubing and using his shut-off valves.

I know Alex is not so interested in standard toys so when he gets excited, and I mean really excited, about something, I figure there's a high possibility that someone else may find this helpful, or at least that's my hope.  

If you have any questions or if I missed out a vital part, which I'm sure I did, please ask me in the comments and I'll see what I can do to help.



As an aside, I'm not trying to take credit for this project/game as I know its been done before.  Seriously, I'm not that creative.   I honestly have no idea where we got the idea from so if you're out there looking for a Copyright infringement let me know who you are so I can link accordingly. 

How cool is that?

You know all those inspirational quotes and pictures going around Facebook?  Well, I have a hard time relating to some of them.  I'm not a really rainbow and glitter kind of girl.  I'm more of a straight shooter and undercover sailor.  

I made a few pictures that reflect me and how I feel and put them on Facebook.  I didn't think much of it.  I ran out to get the kids from school, took them to the park and Tae Kwon Do.  Did the usual things.  

I never bothered to check on things because for the most part, I'm oblivious.  And busy.  And tired.  

That and I broke my i-phone so I was not connected, at all.  I was off the grid.  

When I came home, I couldn't believe it.  

The sayings I put up on Facebook have been shared over and over.  

Honestly, I'm a little surprised and humbled.  It's just how I feel about my son.  About my kids.  I really feel I've struck the jackpot with them.  Sure, there are days when I'm PMS'ing and if a child asks, "What time is it?" one more time, I very well may drive chicken skewers through my ears but for the most part, I'd not change things for the world.

And the fact I'm not alone in feeling this way gives me goose-bumps.

I don't know how to say thank you for sharing.  I guess maybe this is it.  Thank you.

I've come a long way since my son's diagnosis.  He has come even further.  I've learned to love him for who he is and he's teaching me more about life and love than I could have ever dreamed of.

And really, how cool is that?


And I know this horse is dead but I'm going to beat it anyway...this all started with Facebook....if you want to, go up and click on that "Like" button, up there on the right, so we can complete the circle and stay in touch.  I'd like that.  

I broke the cardinal rule...

I did something I swore I'd never do.  Did it without even knowing or without even caring.  I slowly progressed down this steep hill and found I couldn't get out.  And truth be told, I kinda liked it down there.

I stopped taking care of myself.

I've never been a big fan of winter.  Not that I'm a fan of summer humidity either but I'm not a big fan of those cold, grey days of winter.

They do something to me.  Something bad.

This year it happened so slowly I didn't even know.  With all the mess at school coinciding with the time of year Wyatt died and my husband being out of town more than in, it all just blew up in my face.  I guess all the issues at school tipped the scale.

See, I'm a good cover girl.  I covered it all up.  I always have.  So in real life I was doing what I normally do, going through the motions.  There are no words to adequately describe depression, if that what it was.

I don't know.

I just know I was in a place I didn't want to be.  A place I knew I shouldn't be but I was there anyway.

Stuck.

Going through life with no real interest.

Wanting to leave, to run.  Run far, far away.  This time I wanted to run and not look back.  I wanted to be free of the cold, the grey, the memories and most of all, the stress.

All the stress of trying to help my son who just couldn't figure it out.    

But I've come back.

Back to a better place.  To a better frame of mind.

And I hope it stays that way.


Note: I wrote this several months ago and trust me, I'm back to my old self.  Sometimes it takes a kick the pants, a good friend, a trip to the doctor, whatever, to get back to where we need to be.  


I'm sharing this because it is so important for us to realize we have an overabundance of stress on our shoulders.  We have to take care of ourselves and each other.  And it's OK to ask or seek out help when you need it. 

OMG Dorthy, run for the hills!

I have to tell you right now, if I was not laughing at this I think, no I know, I'd have been confirmed as certifiably insane.  For those of you who know me and are scratching your heads wondering, "What?  I thought she was insane, " shut your whore mouths.

I'm not sure I've mentioned this in the past.  I don't know, maybe I have---about Alex's first fear, then love affair of all things weather.  It started back when we flooded in North Dakota and we lost the house.  The kid has a legitimate fear of water.  Then we moved to Kansas and at first he had a healthy fear and loathing of all things tornado.  Then he brought home a book from school all about how tornadoes are formed and thus began his formative years in studying tornadoes.  Thank you again Overland Park School District for giving him that book.  No really, thank you.

Now, not only does he have a healthy fear of tornadoes, he wants to go out and study them.  He wants to examine wind shear, air velocity, how a mega-cyclone is formed and everything else associated with all things tornado.  

Are you as scared shitless as I am when you hear this???  He wants to study a fucking mega-cyclone.  Who studies a mega-cyclone anyway?  I'll tell you who, anyone but my son, that's who.

And then because we live in Kansas the inevitable was bound to happen.  We went under a tornado watch.

Now wasn't really a tornado watch per say, it was more like Greg Forbes saying, "you live in a zone where the TOR:CON is sitting at an 8 out of 10 right now.  That means somewhere in your vicinity there will be a tornado and those people that get hit with the tornado???  Those people?  They're well and truly fucked.  They're all gonna die."

No really, that's not what he said at all.  That's more what my son heard.  What he and the Weather Channel said was more like this:

Several tornadoes are likely to touch down in the central United States; some of which could be large, violent and travel for miles upon miles. Developed by Dr. Greg Forbes, (Find him on Facebook) The Weather Channel's severe weather expert, the TOR:CON index is an estimate of the likelihood of tornado activity within a given time period. The TOR:CON values range from 0 to 10. A value of 4 means that there is about a 40% chance of a tornado within 50 miles of a location in the specified area of severe thunderstorm activity. This also means that there is a 60% chance that a tornado will NOT occur. 

Since we were sitting at an 8 and you do the math, that pretty much meant we were fucked.  An 8 reads: A high probability of a tornado in the area of concern.  Yup, we were fucked and no, I really don't want to friend Dr. Forbes on Facebook, thank you very much.

We went up to a 9...we're all gonna die!!!

As an added bonus, the National Weather Service and the Storm Prediction Center have us as a test zone for new storm nomenclature and wording.  Now they're using words like mass destruction, unsurvivable, catastrophic and life threatening for the tornadic event.

Mass destruction?  Unsurvivable??  Catastrophic?!?  You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Those words sent my child into a stimming fit that would have rivaled one of the goddamned tornadoes they were predicting.  Now my son was scared out of his ever loving mind.  The only saving grace was that I was pretty sure he wasn't going to run out into the middle of a storm to collect data.  Notice I said I was only pretty sure, you just never know.  

The last bit of information Alex caught was from the newspaper, "It's only the second time in U.S. history that the Storm Prediction Center has issued such an unusually early and dire warning more than 24 hours in advance.  The last time was six years ago this month, before nearly 100 tornado's struck south-eastern states."

Oh fuck me.

And I still had to go to Sam's Club and buy some damn milk and eggs.

When I mentioned that we needed to go out my daughter said, "Why do we need to get eggs if we're all going to die tonight?  Its just going to get sucked up and make a mess."

Nice try Lizzy, you know how I hate messes but we're still going to Sam's Club.

And then Alex hearing that last bit said, "Wait.  What???  What do you mean we're all going to die tonight?  If we're all going to die, I need to get my i-Touch.  If I'm going to die, I want to die with my i-Touch."

Well, the kid has priorities.

As a last ditch effort, after Sam's Club I had the idea to go to Tornado Alley Live on the computer and watch storm chasers film tornadoes from their cars.  Get this, these geeked-out nut-balls stream live film footage from their cars and you can text them while they chase the storms.

There were so many GD storm chasers
there was a frigging traffic jam in a corn field. 

Did I mentioned we could text them???  We totally did. Oh my frigging Lord, we were texting all sorts of stuff: turn around, get closer, who farted, backup, you passed it, crickets, ditch, watch-out for that car, downed wires.  You name it, we were texting it.  I swear, they need to put better security pass codes on that texting option. Oh well, we enjoyed it.

And then we all tired to go to bed in the lower level but we stayed up all night because "camping" isn't nearly as fun as they make it out to be when the fear of being sucked out a window is looming over you.

We were all cranky as hell the next day and guess what?  We didn't see so much as a flash of lightning.


Note: I haven't a clue if there was a traffic jam in a corn field but look at that mess.  It's worse than a  bunch of college students at a rave.  And secretly?  I'm a weather junkie and I totally want to chase storms after I fight my last IEP battle.  I may soil my pants but it still sounds like fun.   


And while I try to make light of our situation, there were over 100 tornadoes in Kansas alone and Wichita was hit pretty hard.  My thoughts and prayers are with those who suffered from this past weekend.  
 

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.