Out of the Mouths of Babes:

Subject: Why we love kids
1) NUDITY
I was driving with my three young children one warm summer evening when a woman in the convertible ahead of us stood up and waved. She was stark naked! As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my 5-year-old shout from the back seat, 'Mom, that lady isn't wearing a seat belt!'
2) OPINIONS
On the first day of school, a first-grader handed his teacher a note from his mother. The note read, 'The opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily those of his parents.'
3) KETCHUP
A woman was trying hard to get the ketchup out of the jar. During her struggle the phone rang so she asked her 4-year-old daughter to answer the phone 'Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now. She's hitting the bottle.'
4) MORE NUDITY
A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself in the women's locker room. When he was spotted, the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing towels and running for cover. The little boy watched in amazement and then asked, 'What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a little boy before?'
5) POLICE # 1
While taking a routine vandalism report at an elementary school, I was interrupted by a little girl about 6 years old. Looking up and down at my uniform, she asked, 'Are you a cop? Yes,' I answered and continued writing the report.. My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask the police. Is that right?' 'Yes, that's right,' I told her. 'Well, then,' she said as she extended her foot toward me, 'would you please tie my shoe?'
6) POLICE # 2
It was the end of the day when I parked my police van in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy staring in at me. 'Is that a dog you got back there?' he asked.
'It sure is,' I replied.
Puzzled, the boy looked at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he said, 'What'd he do?'
7) ELDERLY
While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds. She was unfailingly intrigued by t he various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, 'The tooth fairy will never believe this!'
8) DRESS-UP
A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned, 'Daddy, you shouldn't wear that suit.'
'And why not, darling?'
'You know that it always gives you a headache the next morning.'
9) DEATH
While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church, our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, his 5-year-old son and his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased.
The minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said: 'Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into the hole he goooes.' (I want this line used at my funeral!)
10) SCHOOL
A little girl had just finished her first week of school. 'I'm just wasting my time,' she said to her mother. 'I can't read, I can't write, and they won't let me talk!'
11) BIBLE
A little boy opened the big family Bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages.
'Mama, look what I found,' the boy called out.
'What have you got there, dear?'
With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered, 'I think it's Adam's underwear!'

Fully in the Christmas Spirit!

For some reason, and I don't know why and will not question it; I am completely and absolutely enamored of this Christmas season.
Not feeling jaded; no not me.
Not blinking and bewildered, nope.
Feeling fulfilled, unhurried and at peace.

We did visit my dad's grave for the first time yesterday. Parker, Ryan and I drove down to Nana's, picked up her and the wreath and then drove out to Ft. Logan Military Cemetery. Lots of the graves had holiday sentiments, presents, fresh flowers and wreaths on them. It was actually rather lovely.

Ryan had a hard time with it. He clung to his PopPop's grave marker and looked very sad. His eyes welled up twice. My mother and I were crying off and on. Parker, Mom and I visited other graves, noting that some of the military deceased were VERY old (100! Lots over 90!) and some were very, very young.

As usual, there was a good mood-breaking bit of mirth: I had Mom and the boys pose at the grave, centering the wreath. Finally, Parker quipped, after much posing and shooting; "You DO know this is not PopPop's grave, Right?..." to which Mom and I burst out laughing and then shuffled them forward, to my dad's grave to do it All Again.


Also, I'm tossing in this photo of a padded floor quilt I made for a dear teacher at school who's just had her second. The play blankie is bigger as there will be two chilluns reclining on this most of the time.

Menus for the Eve, the Day and Boxing Day:

Christmas Eve: Ryan and I (I KNOW!!!) are making turkey with sausage, onion and pecan stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, condiment trays (his words; I have no idea yet what 'condiment trays' mean to him - I suspect raw carrots), cranberry/horseradish relish and tinned cranberry jelly, pumpkin pie and whipped cream.
Christmas Morning Brunch: Parker and I are making spiral cut ham, brie en croute stuffed with cherries and almonds, potato salad; green beans broiled with coarse salt, pepper and olive oil; others are bringing home-made rolls, deviled eggs and desserts.
Boxing Day: Standing prime rib roast coated with horseradish sauce and baked to rare perfection, baked sputs, corn on the cob (?) and a big beautiful salad. Choco cake for dessert.
Photos may follow.

Santa arrived early!

And to think; I asked for a serger, but Ken wanted to get me something to help me relax. What a great man!

Mister Stinky Toes

I love these paws, these frito-smelling, multi-colored tender toes of Cody.

2nd Tree

Ken came home to find us all decorating a second tree. He groaned and exclaimed "Ack - conspicuous consumerism..." but decided in the end it was a great idea.

This tree is in the family room and is visible from the areas we live in, as well as from the 2nd-story bridge. It's a cheerful sight to view all during the day. The big tree in the living room is our Christmas Day tree - it's a large enough area for six or more of us to sit and shred presents. Well, there's that pesky consumerism, again.

Christmas Tree-Close ups

Click on any image to enlarge.
My favorite is the porcelain fairy, with mohair hair. Look at her tiny, painted toenails!
My sisters, my grandma, my mom, my nieces and my children have made many of these ornaments.

Getting the Christmas On

Our babysitter (well, she's much more than that, but it's a one-word descriptor) Anne-Marie really got Christmas going for us this year. She rigged up the system to get the tree assembled



Anne-Marie and the boys decorated the tree. They are getting quite picky about this task.









I decorated 2 table tops, well 3 counting the one visible to the left of the tree.







I may try to add photos of individual ornaments later. We are all bushed. We did get out to Macy's to drop the letters in Santa's mailbox. Even though the boys are getting sceptical about Santa, they are still hedging their bets.

My last photo of Robert

This will be my last photo forever of Robert, myself, some of our kids and Stephen.

It breaks my heart to look at this photo. He looks happy; we all were so happy that August day.

I still can't quite say goodbye to my gentle, caring friend.

The Pantry Purge

It's fitting that this post would be the end of nablopomo for me.

Yesterday I spent 4 hours purging our pantry. At the end, there were three tall kitchen trash bags full of waste. And that's after pulling out everything that could be recycled. If the contents were oil, I did not try to recycle the container, however, and we had LOTS of 'designer oils' going rancid in there. Ugh.

I wish I would've thought to take a before photo. We had just gone through that pantry and pulled outdated stuff out a few months back, but I found plenty of stuff dated 2006 and 2007! I knew we were in deep doo-doo when I thought "Oh, this macadamia oil is from when those neighbors moved..." well, that was over 4 years ago.

I cannot tell you how excited I am. Of course, the only reason I could do this is because Ken is out of town. He called right as I was finishing, and I could hear the panic in his voice "Hey! You didn't throw out those 4 boxes of Ritz's, did you?!" Geesh.

Sunday Games

Sundays are all about creativity in our home; there are no video games, no screen time, no tv except maybe a movie if I have a deadline for something.

The boys get up, we snuggle for a few minutes and start playing. It's usually a gentle game with Cody that morphs into something that involves racing around and around the house rather quickly. Finally, somebody gets it in the tenders (usually the dog jumping on a napping daddy) and that signals 'It's Time To Make WAFFLES'. We have waffles every single Sunday wherever we are, even if they are Eggo. Well, I have Vans since I am the no-wheatie girl these days.

Our daddy left early this morning on his every-other-week business trip. Parker and Ryan got busy with legos. The stuff they build always amazes me. I used to get kind of mad that they were breaking apart the models they built right after they built them, but then thought; isn't imaginative use better than a dust collector? So, now I move dozens of different creations carefully, knowing if I knock something off, it will be noticed.

But the best game they played today was "The Chase Is On". They got out their old play food, and Cody would grab a piece and run away with it. The boys would chase him, yelling "Drop that Pizza!" or "Drop that Sushi!" and the dog would zig and zag, in heaven with them chasing him. He never broke out of a slow trot, of course. They were running full out. Cody is an Aussie, a herding dog. That beast has moves 'til June. Sometimes he does a 360 in mid air, just because he can. He frequently jumps over both Ken and I in bed - from the floor. We have a king-size bed, a high one. Today during the game, he would beat the boys back to their 'picnic' area, drop the current piece, and snag a new one; pausing to let the boys see the evidence in his chops. They'd scream anew, and The Chase would be on, again. This game lasted an hour.

I got my pantry cleaned out. FOUR kitchen trash bags, after recycling any parts that could be, made it out to the trash. You do notice the man-outta-town-woman-tossing-crappe theme here, don't you? After reading The Unhealthy Truth, I am again on a mission to feed us properly. Ken called from Maryland, and reported that he had found a health food store and shopped for good stuff for him too.

Now I'm whupped. But it's a good Whupped.

Why my austistic kid may be better than your autistic kid.

We all think our kids are better in some ways than other people's kids.
But mine truly may be.
Back in the Dark Ages, oh around 1983, my best friend Sherry went to the Dark Side -- yes, she went MACROBIOTIC *gasp*!
Talk about culture clash - I was still smoking at least a pack a day. I woke up, lit up and tossed down a full glass of cool aid with a hand full of cheap vitamins for breakfast. After all, I was a health nut - I worked out at a downtown gym in my shiny lycra tights, leotard and leg warmers every day! I ate vegetables -- if they came with my Chinese take out or happened to sneak on to my sausage pizza.
Sherry came over one day and cleaned out my pantry. And I mean, Cleaned. Out.
She tossed all 'White Death': White flour, sugar, rice, bread, Crisco, salt. She pitched all the rancid oils in my house, from salad dressings to cooking oil to olive oil. All pre-made and boxed foods went sailing into the trash. The freezer wasn't left unmolested, either. Almost everything in there was freezer burned and old. Out it went.
Sherry changed a bunch of people's lives, mine included. I learned that nothing is more important than pure salts, fats and water. Organic meant quality food, with no hormones or antibiotics. Whole grains were the staff of life. Meat was okay as a treat, just like ice cream. And to pay attention to what you put ON your body as well as IN it. Like pure soaps, body oils and shampoo. Simple tooth powder, a crystal salt rock for deoderant. Every day and every thing mattered.
When we got our sons, this became even more important for us. I took the boys to a naturopath doctor, who used homeopathy. She stressed that Ryan could not tolerate dairy, and to be suspect of soy too; to try a product new out from Odwalla - Odwalla milk. It was WONDERFUL - Ryan was by then 8 months old, and we were having such a time with ear infections, diahrrea and vomiting. The Odwalla milk did have soy, but it also had rice and oat milks and fruit. I added flax seed oil to every bottle, and other good things too, like bifidophilus or other remedies prescribed by his naturopath. He thrived. When we moved on to solid foods, I made all his food by pureeing steamed organic veggies, grains and fruit. Our meat has almost always been organic, free range when available.
Then, well, he wasn't meeting progress markers by his 18 month appointment, and we noticed personality changes as well. We started in with intervention when he was 20 months old. He stopped eating anything except yoghurt and crunchy carbohydrates -- but at least we made sure they were organic and whole grain.
I did this because I have known for years that you are what you eat. I knew it was essential to eat good food to have a more disease-free life.
But what I had no idea was that I may have also helped Ryan in his struggle with autism. An author read at a fund raiser that Barnes & Noble hosted for our school. Her book is The Unhealthy Truth and it will open your eyes about the connection between food and allergies, asthma, autism and ADHD in our children.
Tears of anger are squirting out of my eyes reading this book. Even with as informed as I was compared to my peer group, I made some huge mistakes in my children's diets. I can't go back, but I can do better in their lives ahead. And my husband and I will profit from eating better, too.

Thing I would Die For or Murder For

In No Particular Order:

1. I would die for my sons. From 10 minutes after I held them to 1 millisecond ago; I would take bullets for these two. On second thought, I'd catch those bullets in my teeth and then,

2. I would MURDER the worthless human being who would take a shot at them.

ah, we're back to...

1. I would die to find a person who could cut my flat as pancakes front/wavy in back thick, yet skinny, hair. I've not had a good hair cut in over 10 years, since my guy moved to Atlanta (Jon Bryant, if you're out there, get your knees fixed and keep cutting hair, okay?), and come to think of it...

2. I'd like to murder the next stylist who gives me a Jennifer-fucking-Anniston-do -- you know, the long bob with the layers beneath it? Yeah, that shitty hairdo that I. Keep. Getting. From. Every. Stylist. Even when I say, Do not give me that tired old bob with layers! They cut, snip, razor finish, twirl me around and voila! I sigh, get up, pay w/tip and go home and know that I will never be able to make it look decent again. Then I grow it out, try another stylist who suggests "Let's take off alot of this weight!" and bang! It's the Jennifer-crappy-do again.

Hmmm, seems a pattern is developing here.

1. I would die to have a really great ethnic restaurant around these here parts. You know, the kind you find in New York, San Francisco, Chicago or even Seattle, for cripes sakes. I know where I live is essentially a suburb of the Mid-West, but gees; do we all have to eat meh all the time? Everything here is 'for the American palatte'. And come to think of it...

2. I'd going to murder the next mediocre Chinese or Mexican food restaurant owner who opens up in a formerly not-bad restaurant that couldn't keep going in this economy. I know it's hard right now folks; that's why every restaurant has raised their prices a handy 20% over the last few months. I get it. But why landlords feel the need to say "Hey! Let's rent it out cheap to the 22nd Mexi-Chinese place in a 4-block radius! What a great idea!" is beyond me.

I had a really great point to this when I started. But my mind is mush. Travel and meds have taken their hefty toll.

As You Were.

Hurtin' for Certain

I am hurting pretty badly tonight.

I have taken so much of everything that I can take, plus added a percocet. Still, no luck. I just hurt, like a stabbing in the chest and a burning in my back.

Tomorrow we will be home. I cannnot wait to see our dog and sleep in my own wonderful bed. Parker and Ryan are anxious to be home, too.

Traveling is so wonderful, and I swear our boys change in great ways with every trip we take. But this one has been hard for me. I hope the boys had a great time, even with me laying low for the majority of it. They are always excited to see their older cousins, and their Uncle Glenn is a wild and crazy guy. What a blessing to have the hat trick of those three guys around for this vacation.

Stuffed like a Turkey

We had a big feast here at Grandma's, again. Sunday we had Thanksgiving. Today, we had our annual shrimp scampi and fish fry. Complete with greens in hot sauce, green rice casserole (made with broccoli, Velveeta, evaporated milk, white rice etc), green beans and some other stuff.

Gees, we waddled away from the table, only to return to polish off the leftover Thanksgiving pies with ice cream. My clothing no longer fits. This is ridiculous.



Today was a lot of fun for the boys. Uncle Glenn was in rare form. He had them outside, picking up the big sticks from the dozens of trees on Grandma's lawn. Then they had to 'cool off' by getting the big water guns out of the garage and loading them up with swimming pool water and getting soaked, after they blasted ant nests on the ground, real and imaginary. Change of clothing later, Grandma and I decide to run to some Big Box to get her a new laser printer/fax (on sale for $150! yay!) We come back to tales of great excitement - Ryan has fallen in the pool! And rescued himself! Glenn says "Ryan fell in trying to fill his water pistol. He immediately popped up, yelped "I didn't do it!" and hopped out, using his arms to pull his body fully out like he was a Tarzan extra. Glenn said he asked him "Well, who in the heck pushed you in, then?" and Ryan said "Well, I didn't DO it."

You in the Special Kids world will figure it out immediately. Ryan leaves off descriptors. He didn't feel the need to add "ON PURPOSE!" because - Duh. The Dude Didn't Do It. Like. On Purpose. He told Uncle Glenn "These things happen, you know." which is something we say all the time when the water goes over, the plate flips over on the way to a table in the lunchroom, etc. The reset button won't get switched if panic sets in. If the Special Dude or Dudette gets a minute of "Hey! No Worries!" their little reset buttons will hit, and they will start again from square one. If they panic, they run.



I don't run around, waving my arms and yelping "Holy Shit - Autistic Kid! Beware! Take care of him!" No, I expect him to solve a lot of his problems and figure out how to manage his world before I intervene. But when a lunch room lady says "Hey, Ryan dropped his full tray today, and not only didn't pick it up, he didn't go get Mr. Bobby (janitor) or tell anyone; he just stood there and finally said "OH!" and then ran to get a new lunch!" I will say, "Well, Ryan has troubles with his Reset button. Next time you see him, and he's alone, tell him it's okay that he dropped his tray, but he needs to be responsible for the cleanup (the step involving Mr. Bobby), telling you (actual reset key on her computer to enable him to get 2 lunches in one day) and THEN to go get another lunch.

You with normals cannot even imagine how many steps there are in normal navigation for your children. It's automatic for them. But for autistic children, their world is a hugely complex series of bewildering chess games. And sometimes that game just can't be played. I can tell you I bring A LOT of hot fancy coffees to our staff for working so hard with Ryan. That includes secretaries, lunchroom staff, janitors, aids, etc. Ryan loves our school because he is welcomed and valued there. I know that's not usual, as kids like Ryan can suck the energy out of anyone. But these are dear, sweet, educatable kids; they just need a little bit of extra time and consideration. We know teachers/staff/admin don't have a lot of 'extra' to give. And we notice it 1000% when you do, and appreciate it even more.

Turkey Day, yesterday

So now I've not posted again.
I could say I was way too busy cooking the early Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday, but that would be untrue. Dudes, I was sleeping, something I never do during the day. Four hours slipped by as I lay unconscious to the world.

The drugs one takes for Shingles is a true craps shoot. I'm on Valtrex and Neurontin, massive doses thereof. I have to take the Valtrex EVERY EIGHT HOURS and there is a finger wag that comes with the dosing instructions about that. So that's special. The anti convulsive is more fluid - "You can take up to THREE pills, THREE times a day!" said with some enthusiasm. Then I read the pamphlet of doom that always accompanies prescriptions, and it says 'Watch out for depression, thoughts of suicide and....' Noice. I'm on a drug that will make me crazier than the Agony Of Shingles.

What these drugs have done is add a blurry edge to everything I do, and my eyes sometimes jump around. I don't think I'll be driving, I hope I get some relief (haven't noticed much yet) and beg for walking without a drunken stagger, complete with bursts of incomprehensible muttering. Because? That happened a couple of times yesterday.

Oh - my beautiful, wonderful mother in law roasted a sublime turkey, two kinds of dressing, three kinds of pies; my husband whipped up sour cream/butter/mashed taters; my lovely sister in law made beautiful sweet potatoes, tasty greens with loads of garlic and olive oil, two kinds of cranberry sauces and relishes; and I spent half an hour making gravy. At least I can report that it was fabulous.

A bonfire and a fire in my side.

Ken's sister and her family have an incredible home on 10 acres in the woods just outside Tallahassee. The property is great for kids; there are lots of places to explore, dogs, rabbits, cats, wildlife, huge trampoline, big boys to entertain them and, the best thing -- plenty of fallen fuel for BONFIRES!

Today we ate roamed around, played with the dogs, jumped on the trampoline, rustled up some grub and then ate som'mores around a huge, blazing bonfire.

I forgot to dose one time and it now feels like I've carried home the bonfire in my side and armpit. Ow.

May I repeat: PLEASE go get the anti-shingles shot. I don't know what it's called. I bet if you call Walgreens, they will know what you are talking about. Get it.



I'm not kidding on this one. It's even worse than the plant featured above - poison ivy, of which there is plenty on their property.

In Shingles' Death Grip

Oh, You Guys.
I have Shingles. You know this horrible pain I've had, the 'spider bites' along my back on on my side? Those were not spider bites. The cosmos has smote me with something far more dreadful.
The pain finally got to the point where I would wake up and not be able to catch my breath. Yeah, bad. Big time bad.
So three prescriptions later, I am feeling a tiny bit of relief.
But I still am in incredible pain; it burns, itches and is numb all at the same time.
Get the shot, dudes; get the shot. Just ask for the Anti-Shingles Shot. Pay whatever they ask. You do NOT want this Shit.
And I'm blaming this on Robert.

Too busy to post

Sorry, I know I missed yesterday and this will have to count for today.
More later

"What Idiot Would Shop Here?"

I arrived in Greece to meet up with my mother (my sister and dad came later) after partying for 2 days in West Germany (before the fall of the Berlin Wall). I was hung over, sleep deprived and in a foul mood. The airport in Athens was a madhouse, and the line for clearing customs was 50 people long. I'd had it. I broke out of the line as soon as I saw my mother waiting, as luck would have it right beside the pile that contained my luggage. An official gestured me back, but I pointed to my bags. I got to my bags without too much flack, and then just - hopped over the drooping rope. When an official came running, I thundered "I'M EXHAUSTED AND THAT IS MY MOTHER!" and turned my back and left. The crowd of harried family and friends waiting for their arrivals quickly closed behind us and that was that.
My mother said "Well, that was rich. Oh - wait 'til you sample a taxi ride!" I said "As long as they get us to the Chandris Hotel fast, I'm good." My mother muttered "Oh, no problem there..." and hailed a cab. The driver leapt out, threw (I am not kidding) my bags into the trunk and practically pushed us into the cab. I was still closing the passenger door when he revved the motor and screeched out into traffic. We careened around corners, my mother and I literally polishing the slick leather seat with our backsides as we slid from one side to the other. My mother stage whispered between clenched teeth "What Did I Tell You?!" and with that, the driver skidded to a stop, nearly tossing my mother and I into the front with him. "The Chandris!" he exclaimed, jumping out of the cab and snatching our door open. He had our bags at the bellboy stand tout suite, returned to us deftly plucking the cash from my mother's fingers and was gone before we could say "Holy Shit!"
The hotel was grand and full of interesting shops.
But the real shopping was in The Plaka or the business district. In the early 80's, there was an amazing array of stores and restaurants. The dollar was strong and if you shopped where the locals shopped, and could get tremendous deals on shoes and jewelry. My mother and I strolled around and decided where to return with my sister then 15) and my father.
Joan and I took off on our own one day, and ended up walking 5 hours as we got lost. Plus, we both got tired of the men honking and doing the kissy-lips as they passed us -- even with their wives in the car, beating on them and screaming! We had gone by a really exclusive shopping area, and we decided to come back with Daddy and mom.

Finally, our shopping dream came true; we'd gone to every museum, seen every available ruin and there wasn't much else to do. Daddy sighed and said "Ok, let's go see this swanky shopping district." It was gorgeous - we found places for Daddy to sit and sip his coffee or juice and off we took. Mom took him into 2 or 3 stores and he was flabbergasted at how much more expensive these places were than any place so far in Greece. Joan and Mom decided to take a break with dad. Just as he exclaimed to Mom and Joan "What Idiot would shop here?!", I came thundering down the sidewalk, arms loaded with packages.

Daddy looked at Mom and proclaimed "I Rest My Case."