Merry Christmas

I spoke with someone recently whose friend had asked their children what they received for Christmas last year. They could not name a single present. The family opted to go to Disneyland this year.
Although thats a great excuse for a Disneyland trip, if you can afford it, it doesn't really go very far towards explaining that the spirit of Christmas is all about giving. Giving for the sake of giving, giving to make others happy or at least more comfortable, giving in order to help people, giving to acknowledge those that are less fortunate.
Nonetheless I asked Holden what his favorite gift was last year. It was his raccoon finger puppet. ( Not equal in price to a Disneyland trip). He also liked Griffin's frog finger puppet.
Each year at this time I have that horrible feeling of wishing I could give more to the kids. But the fact is, they are pretty happy with what we have.
Laurel was recently given a very nice doll. A really, really nice doll. She glanced at it. You know what she liked? The Sweet and Low packet from the diner. It was pink. It was her " princess card". She carried her Sweet and Low packet around for an entire day.
On Christmas day she received a present in a princess gift bag. Yup, its all about the princess gift bag.
Oliver likes all his new markers and pens. Although the Spin Art set is pretty cool too.
Holden is all about the Legos. Big and small, the size and extravagance doesn't matter. Its about building.
Griffin loved receiving presents. With each box he exclaimed " I LOVE this PRESENT!" Boxes are awesome.
We may not make it to Disneyland anytime soon, but we can give the kids gift bags and Sweet and Low packets, wrapped boxes, magic markers, and $4 Lego people and everyone is pretty happy.

Coal

Holden saw Jeff move the elf. Jeff did it in front of Holden.
This is not how its done.

Holden told me he saw Jeff move the elf. I feigned surprise.
" Why would Daddy do that?"

" I don't know. But I saw him"

I had to think fast, not unlike the Grinch when he encounters Cindy Lou Who.
" Well," I said," Daddy did a very bad thing. You are never supposed to touch the elf. The elf can lose his powers if anyone touches or plays with the elf. Daddy better not do that again!"

When Jeff got home I made him read The Elf on the Shelf to everybody. When he got to the part about how no one is supposed to touch the elf, the elf is not a toy, I chimed in with " See, Daddy? No touching the elf!"

Holden added " Yeah, Daddy, I hope the magic isn't all gone".

This is why Jeff always gets coal in his stocking.

Damn Elf

I love The Elf on the Shelf. I always liked the 70's kitsch elf, and the book is adorable:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000XR6MBQ?ie=UTF8&s=kitchen

I love how excited they all are to find the elf. Griffin calls it " Miss Miss". Anything remotely Christmas like is a " Miss Miss" according to Griffin.

The elf has come up with some great spots to hide. In the cereal box, in the refrigerator, on top of a ceiling fan, peering out of the shower. Endless amusement.

The elf is my primary source of bribing for good behavior throughout the month of December.
" Oh no! Did the elf see that? He'll tell Santa! Quick! Do something nice, good and helpful!"
I love the elf.

Here is what I don't love: moving the elf.

Sounds like it would be fun to find a different spot each evening after everyone drifts off. Well, it would be...if I remembered!

What happens is I go to sleep and just as I am drifting off I think " Oh NO! The Elf!
Sometimes I don't remember the elf at all. Then Jeff or I has to subtly extricate the elf from yesterday's spot and get him into a new spot quickly.

But the other day Holden saw the elf, in yesterday's spot, before we'd noticed or thought about the elf.

But why? Why didn't the elf move?

Um, because you were so good that he had nothing to report.

Santa's Socks

I got out all the Christmas stuff yesterday. We planned on getting the tree after the babies napped. So while the babies napped I went into the spider laden garage and found the well sealed tubs of Christmas ornaments and decor.
I unpacked the stocking holders, unwrapped the stockings, the Christmas tree skirt, the ornaments, the tree topper and the tree lights. I hung the stockings.
The babies woke up.
Laurel came out :
" Santa's socks!"

" Miss miss! " [Christmas] cried Griffin.

Yes, its almost Miss miss time so we've hung Santa's socks.

Nice Talking To You

OK, I know its a bad idea to complain about family in a blog or any other sort of online forum. But my mom has dial up. She'll get to this sentence and her computer will crash anyway. Hi mom, see ya later.

I don't like talking about Oliver with family. While I'm happy to discuss special needs, the set backs, the advances, the triumphs, the disappointments, the hardships and the love with just about anyone on the planet, I'm less inclined to discuss any of this with family. The reason is simple. Its the judgments. Its the lack of sympathy, empathy, or general understanding. Its the focus on whats " wrong" and whose fault it might be. Its the fact that Oliver isn't seen as a little boy, capable of loving and in need of understanding and affection. Oliver, to them, is a problem. An inconvenience. A shame.

Its hard to look on the bright side 24/7 when you are dealing with special needs. Everyone wants their kid to be OK in life. We do the best we can. And in the end, we love our little Oliver. He is a smart, sweet, bright boy who challenges us beyond anything we could have imagined. As hard as it can be I wouldn't trade it for a minute.

So I talked to my mom this morning. After she talked about herself without taking a breathe for about 30 minutes she asked about how Oliver is doing. She did not ask about any of the other kids. She was making her point, and we both knew it.
He is fine, I said.

"Oh I mean with his spells."

"What spells? " ( I know she meant that she thought he was horrible, but I'm going to make her say it).

"Well, I don't know what you call it, his episodes."

[ Well, I call them Grandma is judgmental and dislikes any child with special needs, but I guess you call it " episode"].

"Oliver doesn't have episodes."

Laurel started yammering in the background about needing her princess backpack.

"What does she need?" My mom needed to know.

" Her princess backpack"

" What is that?"

" A backpack with a princess on it"

" A back pack? and it has a princess? I've never heard of this"

I can see why this would be confusing, since every child in the country has a backpack with a character on it.

" Yes, a backpack with a princess on it".

" What is a princess?"

I hate these games.

" You know what a princess is."

" So is this from a movie? I don't know about a princess".

" There are a lot of princesses. You went to Disney world as a kid, you took me when I was a kid. You've seen a princess image".

" No, I don't know about these things".

She shifts back to Oliver.
" So does Oliver go to a normal school?"

"Yes, Oliver goes to school."
Ugh.

"Oh, I mean a " normal" one?" She presses.

"Oliver is fine", I reiterate. There isn't much point to this conversation.

" REALLY?" she asks, with great feigned surprise. " How is THAT working?"

Yeah, I get it. Thanks.

" Great".

" REALLY?" she asks again, in case I missed the insinuations the first time around.

" Yes, why wouldn't he be?"

" Oh no, no..." she replied as though I'd misunderstood something.

Ugh.

I'll have to give Oliver an extra hug when he gets home. Oliver will be OK. He can spell restaurant. I"ll bet she can't.

What Is It About Spiders?

I'm not good with spiders.
Especially big spiders.
The only thing that has made spiders vaguely tolerable for me has been exposure to cockroaches. Now that is something I can't handle. Ever. Especially those giant mutant ones that fly at you. Ugh. I could never, ever live in Texas.

I have had the cockroach sighting experience in my lifetime. I'm done with that, I hope. The experience left me slightly more able to handle spiders. At least they aren't roaches.

I've seen the occasional black widow right on our front step. I squashed it. For a poisonous thing they aren't so menacing. However, California does have its share of hideous looking and large spiders. Hairy large spiders with big beady eyes and visible mouths. I know, I know, spiders are good. They eat the bad things. But the bad things aren't...hairy.

So there I was, innocently walking into the bathroom, when I saw it.
I had to stare at it for a while to make sure it was real. I was thinking " No, that can't possibly be a giant spider. Thats a ...um... big piece of hair, or..um.. some wet dryer lint with eyes.. oh my GOD, its alive. Oh god help me, what should I do?"

I looked around to see what sort of spider killing aresonal I had at my disposal. Not a whole lot. I weighed my options.

Option 1:
Use the closest thing to me and try to drown it.
Pro: Anything will drown in enough shampoo
Con: Spider could outrun me and attack prior to drowning. Or worse, spider could outrun me and vanish. They can do that.


Option 2:
Run to the kitchen, arm myself with an array of quasi green household cleaners and residue eliminators, run back to the bathroom, and spray the spider with an assortment of non toxic chemicals.
Pro: Optimum control over stream of chemical output leads to better chances of actual drowning.
Con: Spider could disappear while I am arming myself.

I chose Option 2. Yes, the spider could disappear while I was arming myself, but the chances of killing via green bathroom cleaner product remained higher when I factored in the greater nozzle control.

The spider did not vanish while I was arming myself. I shuddered and gagged a little as I moved closer. He glowered at me. His hackles were up. I think he had leg hackles. His furry back hair grew furrier. Ugh. I aimed. I sprayed. He jumped and ran.
Ack! Disgusting! He is coming towards me. Aim..SPRAY! Aim...SPRAY! He shuddered and his furry leg hair clung to his legs. Chills of revulsion shot through my body. I sprayed more. He made a final lunge in my direction before surrendering to green solvent death. A few of his legs remained in the air.

I felt sickened and could not bring myself to clean the carcass. Not right away. I let the residual solvents flow down the drain. Damn, that was a big spider.

I vacuumed the carcass out of the tub. I'm not touching that.

I'm blown away

Oliver amazes me.

When Oliver was a baby Holden called him Suggy. I had explained to Holden that baby Oliver cried when he wasn't comfortable. He liked to be kept warm and snuggly. Holden interpreted that as " the baby's name is Suggy". Not quite what I meant, but the name stuck for a while. For the first two years of Oliver's life he was Suggy to family and friends. Slowly the name faded from existence and Oliver became Oliver.

Last week Oliver carefully wrote some letters on a piece of paper. He spelled out " sughee". I didn't want to lead him, so I asked what it said.
" My name is Suggy" Oliver replied.

I guess he remembers that. I guess he can sound out words. Um.. how does he know how to do that?

He spent the rest of the week writing " Sughee, Oliver, Griffin, Holden..."

When we got back from Safari West, the adventure at which Oliver lured giraffes to his side and hand fed them, he sat down on the floor with magnetic letters. He carefully wrote " restaurant".

WHAT??

Yup, he spelled out restaurant. Repeatedly.

We got ready to go to a party on Sunday. We got out paper and pencils and pens so the kids could make cards. Oliver carefully wrote out the days of the week.
Um... he can do that?

We headed to the party. The kids had a blast! ( Thank you Sally and Josh!). Oliver sat down next to the bounce house and wrote restaurant. Then he wrote Michelin.

Michelin??

What goes on in that head of his?

I'm so proud and so confused. He still can't put his shirt over his head without getting stuck in an arm hole. But he can spell restuarant. ( Typo, but I'm leaving it in to make a point).

Now That Its Over, It Was Great!

Its pretty much always better in retrospect.

Quite a while back, well almost 3 years now anyway, Jeff and I decided that in order to have some family experiences with four kids that we'd just have to brave it. Our thinking was that the kids will remember the good times. They remember the places we went and the things we did. Jeff and I would remember how much the trips actually sucked.

So we went for it. We did a family camping trip when the twins were 4 months old. I have no idea how old that made Holden and Oliver... 5 and 3 1/2? It was hard, but not impossible. We sure packed a lot of stuff. Giant tent, 2 pack n plays, baby accoutrement's...we did it though.

We camp at least once each summer, we try to make it to Tahoe to see snow during ski week. Its not always easy. It often is incredibly awful. But when its all over we're always glad we tried it.

We decided to go to Safari West for Thanksgiving. ( http://www.safariwest.com). We looked into Bolinas, Mendocino, anyplace nearby where we might play in tide pools and spend a night away somewhere. But nothing was available. If it was available they'd be happy to charge us for an entire week. Um.. no, thanks. So we decided we'd try Safari West and we'd spend the night in an African tent.

I anticipated that the food would be bad. I accepted that before we got there. I made pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, cranberry orange sauce. I am going to have some food that is good on Thanksgiving. I just am. I packed coffee, tea, hot chocolate, crackers, pretzels. I had paper cups, wine, champagne, sparkling apple juice.

We hit horrible traffic on our drive north. 10 miles an hour through Novato and into Petaluma. The kids didn't care. They are usually pretty good in the car.

We finally arrived and had to park waaay down in a lower lot. Other people began to arrive. They were armed with mom jeans, safari themed vests, jungle print clothing. Uh oh.

We checked in and walked around a bit. I started getting nervous about our lack of warm clothing.

Dinner was buffet style. Buffet style means disaster in our family. We had assigned seating. They called our table. I went up and collected 6 heavy plates and attempted to pile the top plate with as much as it would hold, while balancing 6 rolled napkins filled with cutlery. Oliver had a fit that I'd left and ran screaming and crying to find me, narrowly missing being badly burned by the freestanding heat cylinders.

The man behind me noted my plight. " I have been wondering how you are going to manage that." He offered.

" So have I!" I replied.

I teetered back to our table and tried to cut turkey and dole out portions of bad cornbread and gummy stuffing.
I tried to go back to get salads. Oliver freaked out again and came tearing through the dining room shrieking. We were a hit.
There were no beverages for children other than soda. We requested milk. They brought 3 milks for our 4 children and that took about 15 of the longest minutes ever. Laurel spilled hers. Of course. Griffin whined and cried and moaned.

The staff then started doling out pie. Apparently we were not to be given choices. Some people got dry apple, some got institutional pumpkin. I asked for a candle for Holden's, since it was his actual birthday. He was half way through his pie when they showed up with a candle. Everyone in the room sang, which Holden secretly LOVED.

Griffin whined and cried and moaned.

Oliver waited for his chocolate cake. And he waited. There was no birthday cake???? What???

Oliver SCREAMED

Oliver YELLED

Oliver SHRIEKED

There were tears and snot and resounding echoes and yet no cake appeared.

Oliver loudly sang to himself " Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Oliver, happy birthday to you. Oh my cake! CAAAAKKKKE!"

Oliver was distraught. People at our table laughed. Well, one woman glared, but the others all laughed.

Finally the wretched dinner was over. We grabbed our bottle of wine and began the maneuver through the dining room and around the freestanding danger heaters.

Griffin whined and cried and moaned.

We headed back to our tent. It was getting dark. And cold.

Somehow it never occurred to me that luxury African tent = freeze your butt off. Canvas walls aren't known for their insulation. It was COLD.

Griffin whined and cried and moaned.

Jeff and I drank wine in Dora Dixie cups while we waited for staff to arrive with our futons. The staff was surprised that we had 6 people when we are only allowed 5 in a tent. I assured them that I had told them when we made our reservations. I had, they had said it was OK. The futons didn't really fit in there but we shoved them on either sides of the beds. We figured the kids would be warmest sleeping together and if they fell off the high beds they'd fall on us. Perfect... kind of.

Listening to the animals was pretty amazing. Something kept me up all night and I have no idea what it was. Some musical sounding beast from the Savannah. Holden awoke around 3 am.

" I'm just a little worried about the animals right outside our tent".

I assured him they would not be coming in. Animals aren't allowed in tents.

Eventually everyone shivered themselves into fitful sleep and we all awoke to our usual game of musical beds. We all kind of shift around for a while until its clear that everyone is in fact awake, and has been for a while.

It was too cold to get dressed so we layered more clothing over our pajamas. Griffin whined and cried and moaned. Soon enough it was time for the buffet. More screaming and protesting and yelling and near burn misses. Trails of chewed on English muffins and 1/2 eaten croissants, 1/2 tubs of yogurt, unfinished fruit salad, congealed oatmeal, and unfinished lukewarm apple cider remained in our wake as we left the buffet.

We went on a tour of the animals again. Griffin whined and cried and moaned. They were giving the porcupines their breakfast. The porcupines ran to the handlers. Running porcupines are funny.

Griffin whined and yelled and screamed and refused to come with us.

We visited the lemurs. They screeched and yelled and hollered and we told Holden they were singing happy birthday to him. A man nearby concurred that that was in fact lemur for happy birthday. Holden looked proud.
" Monkey!" announced Griffin, briefly pulling himself away from his whining.

"Lemur" we corrected.

" Weee mur" he concurred.
Then he returned to his protesting and whining.

We visited the small fox creature. " A mouse!" Laurel cried with delight.

We visited some other bizarre creature that was intent on licking small fingers.

Griffin whined and cried and moaned.

We went to see the giraffes. There was a large giraffe near the fence. Oliver smiled. The giraffe bent down. The giraffe nuzzled Oliver. Nuzzled Oliver. Oliver fed the giraffe a leaf. A handler came by and told us not to let him do that and not to get too close. I did nothing. This was fascinating. Oliver fed the giraffe again. I took pictures. Oliver was soo happy.

We stayed with the giraffes for a bit then headed back to pack up our stuff. Oliver ran out of our tent. " Want to see giraffe!"

Well, he told us. Thats huge. We bribed him back to our tent with pumpkin muffins which gave me enough time to pack up our things. Then we went to visit Oliver's friends again. Oliver found some choice leaves for his new buddies.

Eventually the giraffes went further into their pen which allowed us to go check out. Griffin screamed and moaned and yelled.

The drive back wasn't too horrendous.

Looking back on it I remember this fantastic adventure in which Oliver somehow drew giraffes to him. An adventure in which my children fed giraffes. How amazing is that? I almost forgot about the cold and the whining and the tantrums. These family adventures are wonderful in retrospect. They are just not so great while you are experiencing them.

Eeeew! Scary! Yucky!

Apparently mashed sweet potatoes are inedible. I had no idea. I thought they were sweet. I like them roasted. I thought the kids would like them. I roasted them, I mashed them and added a dash of lime juice. I thought it was good.
I brought the bowl to the table.
Griffin took one look at it.

Oh, YUCK. That yucky! Yucky scary poop!

Uh, no, its not orange poop. Its sweet potato and its good.

Scary Poop! Eeeewwww! Yuck! I all done. I excused!

Try one bite. Its good.

No, yucky! Scary! Too scary poop! Eeeeww!

Griffin would rather starve than eat scary orange poop.

I DID NOT MAKE ORANGE POOP!

Tomorrow we'll have pasta.

The Month of Bribes

Its almost December. The month of bribes. This year I'm starting a little early.
I've asked Holden to make sure he puts away all of his socks as I sort through the clean laundry. You see, if Santa sees an empty sock drawer he'll think the one thing Holden really needs is socks. Santa will then fill the stockings with socks. Would you rather have socks or toys? Toys? Well, then make sure your clean socks are put away.
Time to clear out our closets. I know those toys that were stuck in the back of the closet may seem appealing. You haven't noticed them in over a year. However, if we give them to children that have no toys at all then our closets are bare. Santa might give you new and fabulous toys that will take up that exact same space. If we hang on to the old half broken things and keep our closets filled with clutter then Santa will assume we have no room for new toys. He'll skip right over our house. He'll go to houses where boys and girls only have a few cherished well cared for toys and he'll deliver something extraordinarily special. But he'll skip over us.
Look how much room that plastic projector takes up. Imagine if that space was empty. You could fit a whole Lego set in there! Or we could hang on to the plastic projector you played with that one time last year. Oh really? You're ready to see it go? Well, OK, if thats what you want...

God, I love Christmas!

The Talking Marshmallow

We're back in the land of potty training. I'm half relieved that I've finally found the courage to face it for the 3rd and 4th times. I'm half just wishing I could fast forward this phase. All the accidents, ugh.
I'm already looking forward to the end of potty seats. One bathroom with two potty seats to trip over can be annoying.
But, at least we have entered the realm. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Potty seats are out. We talk about underwear all the time. We cheer and exclaim over bodily functions. We read books about potties, books with our favorite licenced characters on potties, we throw potty theme parties. OK, there haven't been any theme parties yet. Hmm.. actually I did make cupcakes the first time Griffin peed in the potty.
We've resurrected the potty videos. I'm a big boy now. I haven't bothered to buy a girl version. Poor Laurel. She'll be a little confused. For some reason all the kids still like watching " Potty Power".
Maybe the songs are particularly compelling? Maybe the stories and re enactments are well crafted?

I am continually humming :
I can do it myself
I'm a big kid now
I can do it myself
I've got potty power
POTTY POWER!

This particular video features an animated, talking roll of toilet paper. Holden had been convinced that it was a talking marshmallow. Every time the marshmallow/ toilet paper roll would speak Holden would laugh and say " Silly Marshmallow".

I asked him once why a marshmallow would be in a potty video, didn't he think it might be more plausible that the character was a toilet paper roll?

Nope, it was a marshmallow.

So the brightest light in the process of potty training so far is the resurrection of the talking marshmallow. He still makes me laugh.

Being 2

Sometimes I have to take a step back and realize how much harder other people have it. Take today for instance.

Laurel is 2 and 1/2. OK, thats pretty tough right there. But today, ooooh... today. She had a ROUGH day.

She wanted more Mighty Bites in her princess bowl and I accidentally poured Cheerios in there.

She wanted to wear her kitty dress to school and since the kitty dress is blue and white I put her in pale grey leggings with it. Princesses don't wear pale gray. Ever.

We settled on her pink princess shoes, and then we put her princess lunchbox and her princess pacifier in her princess backpack.

Laurel likes the new Tiffany's catalog that just arrived. The Tiffany catalog is her "princess book". She likes to leaf through and show me her princess earrings and her princess necklaces.
I wouldn't let her bring her princess book to school. Princesses don't like that.

I told everyone it was time to get in the car. Time to wear our backpacks. Holden helped Laurel with her backpack. Princesses like help. " Thank you Princess Holden" she said, thereby bestowing on him the highest compliment in her world. 6 year old boys don't like being called Princess. Holden was mad. Laurel screamed because her compliment was rejected.

So we went to get in the car, but we have to take our backpacks off in order to get strapped in to car seats. Princesses don't like to take off their backpacks.
Tears.
We drop Holden at school and carry on to Griffin and Laurel's school. Finally the backpacks can go back on. But when we get inside guess what? We need to take the backpack off.

No! S'Mine! My Pwincess backpack! Is not funny!

The day got worse for poor Laurel. Not only was she stripped of her backpack, but the backpack was then eviscerated and the princess lunchbox was put in the refrigerator. Could things get any worse?

Well, I don't know what happened while she was at daycare. Who knows what assault to princesses was in store for her there. But I do know that she continued to struggle after I picked them up in the afternoon.

Laurel wore her backpack as we headed back to our car. In a surprising turn of events she learned that she couldn't wear the backpack while she was in her car seat. I had Oliver with me at this point. Oliver likes to be buckled in the second he sees the car. By the time Oliver is actually sitting in his seat the tears and snot are flowing and the decibel level has reached a level which inspires neighborhood dogs to begin howling. So Oliver and assorted afflicted animals are howling and Laurel is trying to make her princess displeasure known.

Finally Oliver is buckled and Laurel is holding her princess lunchbox and her princess backpack on her lap.

We drive south to Oliver's appointment. Laurel needs to bring her princess lunchbox and her princess backpack. She sees a pink sweatshirt in the car and needs to bring this beautiful princess item as well. Laurel's side of the stroller overflows into the second seat. Laurel can barely see because she has so many accessories piled on her and over her.

I dropped Oliver. Griffin, Laurel and I head to Whole Foods to buy enough to get us through the night. I picked them up before their snack at daycare so I planned on buying them something.

Whole Foods has automatic doors. Griffin doesn't like automatic doors. He sees people go through and then he sees the door shut. I guess he worries that we missed our chance. I explain that we too will be allowed inside.

I usually get them an apple or some berries and some jicama. But I wanted to avoid the fruit today for reasons no one really wants to know about. I head down the cracker aisle where they of course spy fruit bars. Griffin inexplicably calls them " barns". They begin clamoring for barns. I pick up a box of apple bars and give them each a bar in the store. Blissful silence as I quickly pick up a few items.

At checkout Laurel hands me the final crumb of her bar. " I don't like it" she states.
I guess she ate it to be polite.

We hurry back to pick up Oliver. Laurel drops her backpack. It landed in leaves. Her princess backpack has been tainted by leaves. I assure her the princesses are fine. She remains unconvinced.

I try to speak to Oliver's therapist for a few minutes while Griffin screams to get out of the stroller. Laurel decides she doesn't like the placement of Griffin's feet so she screams too. Its hard when someone else's feet are improperly placed. Its just so ... disruptive.

We get back to the car. Its very hard for Laurel to get out of the stroller while holding a princess backpack, a princess lunchbox, and a pink princess sweatshirt. She dropped the sweatshirt. She screamed. Things just have not been easy for Laurel.

Then we do our little routine. Oliver shrieks about being buckled in, Griffin won't get in his seat, Laurel can't get in her seat because she can't climb in or sit down while holding all her princess accessories and princess accoutrements. Eventually we all settle in and we drive north to pick up Holden at soccer.

On the way Laurel manages to wedge her lunchbox between her seat and Griffin's seat. Can you imagine the horror of a stuck princess lunchbox? Hard to fathom. Then she dropped her princess backpack. Then her dolly was inside the princess backpack when she wanted it in the outside pocket.
NO NO NO NO NO
Dolly was supposed to be half in and half out of the outside pocket. I had positioned the dolly WRONG.

NO NO NO I DON"T LIKE IT AAACCCKKKK WAAAHH WAAHHHH

Its not easy being two. Sometimes I forget that.

The Spoon

My mom gave me a set of silver plate cutlery that had belonged to my grandmother. Or so she claimed. It could very well be a set of silver plate cutlery that she picked up at a thrift store at some point in time. Regardless, I've always liked the set.
The set, however, is incomplete. So about 9 years ago I set out to find the missing pieces. I searched places like Ebay. I did find a few of the missing pieces on Ebay. I still had only one bowl style soup spoon which I prefer to the other other kind. Finally I found a few in a lot. In order to get them I had to purchase a lot which included some silver plate iced tea spoons that appeared bent, 3 random sugar spoons with most of the silver plate worn off, and a teaspoon, the pattern to which I could not quite make out.
I had the winning bid. I think I may have had the only bid.
The package arrived and I was happy to see my bowl style soup spoons. Perfect. I've used the bent iced tea spoons once or twice in the last nine years. Every now and again I need a long spoon to capture the last olive.
The last spoon took on a life of its own.

This spoon has an embossed portrait of an old woman on the top of the spoon. She kind of looks like the woman on the Grandmother's Molasses label. But its not her. Then, on the stem of the spoon, there is a date: 1913-1938.

There are no other markings. At first I was amused by the hideous spoon with the old woman who was apparently 25. Jeff and I concocted stories about the old woman. Eventually we referred to the spoon as the dead grandmother spoon. We had decided that the most legitimate of our concocted stories included the information that this woman was being honored posthumously.

As it turns out I didn't like eating with the dead grandmother spoon. The silver plate is worn and I don't like eating on worn silver plate. I also am not terribly fond of the dead grandmother looking at me while I'm eating.

Anytime Jeff gave me that particular spoon I'd groan.

Eventually Jeff decided he didn't like the spoon either.

We concluded that if we accidentally got the dead grandmother spoon we'd have bad luck.

Jeff wanted to take the dead grandmother spoon out of rotation. But I thought that was akin to cheating.

The dead grandmother spoon stays.

As the kids got older we began to make the shift from plastic cutlery, to licensed character cutlery, to solid color children's cutlery, to our own cutlery.

Holden noticed my horror if I ever ended up with the dead grandmother spoon. ( We didn't call it that in front of him, I just alluded to my forthcoming bad luck). Holden noticed Jeff's reaction to the dead grandmother spoon. He was intrigued by this spoon that seemed to indicate whether or not you were loved.

The other night after dinner we had ice cream. Holden got the spoon. This happenstance was not premeditated. Jeff simply doesn't notice things. But Holden was aghast.

WHAT? I got the NO LOVE spoon?? DADDY! I need a different spoon!

And the saga continues.

Why I Should Pack the Lunches at Night

Its never a good idea to wait until the morning to pack the lunches. Especially on the days when I have 4 lunches to pack. It doesn't matter how early I get up. The only way to beat the chaos is to get up while everyone is sound asleep. But when is that? 3 am? I don't want to pack lunches at 3 am. I want to sleep.

Of course sleeping isn't an option at 3 am anyway. Thats when WallE, aka 'Possum, finds me. Its like clockwork. I hear this purring machine which get louder and louder. Suddenly he is in my face, on my face, on my head, nuzzling me, nipping at my nose, nuzzling his head into my eye sockets. I have no idea what he is doing or why he is doing it, but its impossible to sleep through.

When he finally scampers off I sleep restlessly for a bit before Griffin stomps in with his shirt choice of the day.

Daddy? Mommy? Wear the G shirt? Get dwessed? Mommy? Daddy?

Sometimes he wears a witch hat.

OOOHHHH Spooky witch!

Then he takes the hat off.

No! ITS GWIFFIN!

Oh hilarious 6 am joke.

Laurel stomps in and flops herself down, and begins expressing her disappointment in the morning.

Where my pwincess kitty shirt? WAAAA WAAAAA I need pwincess kitty! Where my backpack? Where pwincess lunchbox? Where C'rella? Where Jasmine? Need Tinkerbell!

Jeff puts on the coffee. I have to get up before the chaos gains momentum.

Too late.

I NEED CHEERIOS!

I WANTED PANCAKES!

WHY DON'T WE EVER HAVE WAFFLES?

NEED WICE KWISPIES!

MORE MILK!

MORE MILK!

MORE MILK!

I like to point out that no one gets MORE milk before having had any milk, but no one knows what I'm babbling about.

Jeff goes to wake Oliver. He needs to be out the door first, therefore he is the hardest to wake.

We don't have enough counter space to set out all the lunchboxes so I pile them on the toaster. I set out the containers I'll use.

4 containers for grapes

4 containers for jicama sticks

3 containers for cheese ( Laurel won't eat cheese)

4 tubs of yogurt

1 carrot cut into sticks for Griffin, Laurel, and Oliver. Holden gets a whole carrot

Oliver wants an almond butter sandwich. I keep the plate and knife separate from everything else. Holden's school is nut free.

Edamame for Holden. No one else will eat it.

Crackers for everyone.

MORE MILK

MORE CHEERIOS

NO! WHERE MY SPOON?

OH NO! NEED NAPKIN!

HELP I SPILLED!

NOOOO THATS MINE! NO I DO IT!

MORE BAGEL I WANNA BAGEL! NOOOOO THA'S MY BAGEL! NO! MINE! I DON'T LIKE CREAM CHEESE! THANKS A LOT! NOW MY DAY IS RUINED!

NOOOOO THATS MY SEAT! OUT! NO MINE! OUT! OUT! MORE CUP! NO!

BACKYARDIGANS CUP! I WANT BACKYARDIGANS CUP! MINE!

NO FAIR! I NEVER GET SCOOBY!

HEY WHY DOES HE HAVE THE GREEN CUP?

OK, maybe some pretzels for everyone, half sandwiches for Laurel and Griffin...

I NEED MILK! OH NO, PADDINGTON'S ON THE TABLE! MOMMY! HELP! HE IS EATING MY CEREAL!

I have to wash the Sigg cups, Holden gets Paddington, Oliver gets the alphabet one, Griffin has the airplane, Laurel has the pink cat....

I DON'T WANT TO GET DRESSED! IS IT A SCHOOL DAY? WHY ISN'T LAUREL DRESSED?

HEY STOP IT! THATS MINE!

WHERE IS MY HOMEWORK?

DO I HAVE SOCCER TODAY? WHERE DID YOU PUT MY SHIN GUARDS?

NO! NEED SOCKS! NEED BACKPACK! NEED SCHOOL SHOES! TIME TO GO, SAY GOODBYE!

OK, I just need to put cold packs in and I'm done. Then I just need to get the twins dressed, lunches into backpacks, make sure Oliver has his red notebook and his green notebook. Holden needs to return the Tuesday folder, and turn in his homework....

HISSSSSSS ROOOAAARR!

SHRIEK!

The cats are fighting because we haven't fed them yet, the kids are screaming because the cats are fighting.

OK, everyone needs shoes and coats!

DO I HAVE TO WEAR A COAT? I HAVE LONG SLEEVES. WHAT IF I GET TOO HOT?

You have to wear a coat. We all do.

NO! OFF! OFF!

No, you have to wear a coat.

And we are on our way.

But I should really pack the lunches at night.

Please Don't Pee on the Cat

Around here its always one of those mornings. Its complete chaos. Every morning.

Griffin marches in holding his shirt choice of the day.
"Get dwessed? Get Dwessed? Get Dwessed? ehehehe GET DWESSED! HELP! PLEASE!'

Griffin gets a shirt. Laurel stomps in. She throws herself down.
" Need my dolly! Wheres dolly? Oh no!"

Oliver stampedes through.
" Go outside. Need to go outside".

Holden sleepily shuffles in.
" Is it a school day? Why is everyone in here? I was all alone".

Then the noise level escalates.
The chorus begins.

NEED BWEAKFAST! I HUNGRY! I WANT MORE MILK! I WANT CHEERIOS!"

" ACK! WHERE MY KITTY SPOON?"

Yeah, well, Mommy and Daddy need coffee.

" I need coffee. Gwiffin need coffee".

No, thats the last thing you need.

Eventually they all settle at the table. Usually.

Sometimes we have mornings that are a bit more challenging than the norm. Days that seem to hit the outer limits of the bell curve before 8 am.

For instance the other morning when Holden shrieked from the bathroom. He had accidentally peed on the cat. I still don't really understand how that happened. He was traumatized, he loves the cat. The cat was traumatized too.

We cleaned the bathroom and the cat. Unfortunately our schedule is very tight in the mornings. There is no extra allotted time for the peeing on and subsequent cleaning of cats. So we were running late.

I tried to hurry and get Griffin and Laurel dressed. They don't deal well with being hurried. Griffin is OK as long as he gets his shirt choice. But he doesn't wear jackets or sweaters or sweatshirts. Outerwear is always a fight, and mornings have been chilly. Laurel is more challenging. She has all out fits.
" Nooooo. Not dat one! Eh ehe ehe WAAAA. I wanted pwincess shirt! No, I don't like that one. NOOOOO. Oh no, I need kitty shirt, NO I need pwincess! WAAAA I don't like it".

Exasperating.

Finally Laurel and Griffin are dressed and ... Holden is not ready.
Get your socks and shoes! Where is your backpack? Come on! We have to go!

Finally we get in the car, its way too late to walk to school, and the gas light comes on. Of course it does. Of course I have no gas.

I drive to school with the gas light on but have to park far from the school. There are 4 parking spots allotted for the school. That works out really well for the HUNDREDS of kids that go there. I did not get one of the four coveted spots.

Do I have the stroller with me? No, of course I don't. We walk, slowly, to school.

Why do we have to be late? Holden whines.

Because no one puts their shoes on.

Finally I am able to drop Holden off.

Griffin has a fit because he wants to go into the classroom. I have to drag the two of them away from the school. Laurel has gone limp and is having some sort of histrionic meltdown. Griffin tries to stage a sit in. I drag them along. I get a few sympathetic glances, and a few glares. People like to make sure that I know that they find my clan disruptive.

Some people go so far as to stare for a while, making sure I've seen them, trying to gain eye contact, so they can visually state their annoyance. I smile as though I think they are sympathetic. Some will even state " They are very loud", with evident disgust. My response is always the same. I smile , sometimes force a laugh, and say " I know!" as though we're all in on this clever joke. Generally that stops them for a minute, long enough for me to get away. They'll have to use their aggression on someone else, I have children to drag.

So I drag them back to the car. The car which has no gas. We head out to the gas station. They continue to scream as I fill the tank.

Now we need to waste time. Little does the housekeeper know, but this will be her last day. But I want to fire her when she is done, not before. I decide to drive out to Petaluma. The kids fall asleep in the car. Oh happy silence.

They wake up when we get to Petaluma. Stores aren't open yet. I have no idea how I got there so fast. So we go to the playground. The kids have a blast. Up the stairs, through the gym, over the ramp, down the slide. Over and over and over.

We head over to the Gap outlet. They chase each other, both wearing their squeaky shoes, around and around a circular clothing display. Around and around, screaming with delight and fatigue. I do nothing to control them. An employee laughs, a customer glares. I smile.

They finish their game and decide they've had enough. They lay on the floor and scream. I have no idea why. So I drag them to the checkout counter ( I had to buy Laurel some boots!). Griffin lays on the floor screaming, with snot and saliva running down his face. I ask the sales girl if it would be OK to leave him there for a little while. She said no.

We drove back home. I gave them lunch and fired the housekeeper. She looked stricken and I felt bad. She did do a great job, but I'd rather pay for preschool than a housekeeper. She sadly offered to keep it up once a month. I said I'd call her if I thought that would work in the future.

Oliver's bus arrived with Oliver. Oliver quickly trod sand through the clean house, dumped toys everywhere, drew on the floor with marker, and then it was time to get Holden.

So I loaded everyone in the stroller and we headed out. We have to stop by the fire station and admire the Smoky the Bear billboard or Griffin has a nervous breakdown and can no longer function. So we admire Smoky the Bear. Hi Smoky. Bye Smoky. Now we can continue on. We get to school but the class has not yet been let out.

" Holden! Holden!" Oliver cries, distraught. He can't possibly wait 2 more seconds for his brother's class to be let out. He climbs out of the stroller and makes a dash for the door. Within a second he is inside. He has made it to the sanctuary of the classroom. He quickly heads to a desk, sits down and begins to color. He has decided he belongs here. The substitute teacher clearly is unsure of how she should handle the situation. Its hard not to laugh. I offer no explanation as I collect Oliver.

We head home. Laurel and Griffin are horrendous because they have not napped. Oliver continues to trash the place until there is no residual effect from the house cleaner. Holden whines about not wanting to do homework because he needs to rest.

And I need a glass of wine. You just know it won't be a great day when it starts out with someone peeing on a cat.

Things are Good

I'm surrounded by putrid smells, but life overall is good. Things have worked out for the best in the long run. They always seem to, don't they?
I'm glad the babysitter quit. She was expensive. She didn't really end up fulfilling the role for which she'd been hired. She ended up simply being an expensive babysitter. With her suddenly out of the picture I was forced to examine different possibilities.
The twins still aren't potty trained. Not because I've tried and failed, not because they are not interested. They are not potty trained because I haven't tried. I literally spent years toilet training Oliver. I have bleached every inch of this house at one point or another. I'm way past scrubbing out underwear. As I see it all underwear is disposable. I am not scrubbing out $2 Thomas the Tank Engine briefs. The idea of starting the process all over again has been daunting.
The preschool at which Laurel and Griffin have been enrolled does not accept children in diapers. They are holding the slots for them. See? Its in my best interest to make this happen. But I haven't done it. I have found it easier to box train the kittens, and there have been set backs there as well.
Now that I have no babysitter and all errands must now occur with children in tow I knew something had to change.
I've been a shut in for years now. Oliver's behavioral issues make going out relatively impossible, even if the outing is very kid centric and enjoyable. Plus its hard to watch other children and their siblings doing regular kid stuff without my heart breaking a little. I try not to compare, but every now and then I catch myself thinking " so thats what it could be like".
Once I added infant twins to the mix well, that was the beginning of the end. There was simply no way I could go anywhere and keep all four children safe.
Recently Oliver has turned a corner. He doesn't simply disappear like he used to. He doesn't run off into traffic with carefree abandon like he used to. Thats not to say he won't run into traffic, but he no longer does it with carefree abandon. He is a little more mellow about it. Things are easier.
Griffin and Laurel are easier. They still throw a good 2 year old fit and they can scream and carry on with the best of them, but they also sometimes listen.
But I still don't want to do errands with 4 young children.
A friend of a friend knew of a local daycare situation. I called. Yes, she has openings and I could visit the very next day.
I took Griffin and Laurel over there this morning. Of course they loved it. Several rooms of kid activities, slides, bikes, trikes, wagons. Its not very expensive, they can go 2 days a week. Perfect. Do I think its the best thing ever? Well, no. But they are little and for socialization for them and a break for me its ideal. If I no longer have the babysitter, and if I fire the very expensive housekeeper, then I'm good.
I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off of me. I'd resigned myself to the fact that I might not get time for myself for years. I miss photography. I miss using my mind. I wonder if I still have one. Suddenly its all tangible again. There is hope on the horizon. I've lived hour to hour for years and suddenly I have hope.
So tomorrow I get to fire the nice woman who does an amazing job on the floors and charges exorbitant prices and drives a Prius.
I guess I have to clean up for the cleaning woman one last time. But I'm busy right now. I'm blogging and breathing in the putrid stench of 3 cats and 4 children. A small black kitten with extra toes lays at my feet, an opossum is sleeping on my leg, 3 children are sleeping, a fourth is rhythmically banging something, a fat large cat snores in the next room.
Things are pretty good. Except for the smell.

This is not a Restaurant

Now that I no longer have my $25 an hour babysitter I have to bring the kids with me everywhere. It was worth $25 an hour not to have them with me. But I don't have a choice anymore.

I had another follow up with the podiatrist, just a post op check up. It wasn't a big deal. He just needed to check the range of motion, healing etc. But Holden didn't have school today so I had Holden as well as the twins with me.

The kids always like the drive into San Francisco. Through the Rainbow tunnel! Over the Golden Gate Bridge! Then we drive up up up the hills in San Francisco! Into the garage! Oooh spooooooky!

We all hold hands as we walk through the garage. We go up the stairs to the elevator. Push the button!

I push the button!

S'my turn! I wanna push!

We get to my Dr's office.

OK, guys, sit down.

OK Mommy. I sit down. Where my dolly?
OK Mommy.
We're in da restaurant!

No, honey. This isn't a restaurant. This is the Dr.'s office.

OK, Mommy. Not a restaurant. Where are de tables?

No, honey, there are no tables. This isn't a restaurant. This is my Dr.'s office.

OK, Mommy. Where's my food? I wanna snack.

The Insane Family Next Door

The cat people have had all kinds of advise. How to get cats to get along, how to stop kittens from biting. They've been helpful.

The head of all the Cat People told me to make a shrill high pitched noise when the kitten/kittens did something wrong. Cats hate that noise, she assured me.

Well, as far as I know, pretty much every living thing hates that noise so its not surprising that kittens don't like it either.

As insane as I felt, I tried out this shrill sound when faced with biting and or fighting behavior. It actually works.

So when the new kitten, or opossum, and the current kitten, or spawn of Satan, began having all out battles I tried to halt the behavior with a sudden and shrill sound. It works. No matter how engaged they are in tearing one another's flesh and ripping out clumps of fur, when they hear the horrible shrill sound they spring from one another. Their eyes widen with horror. They no longer think about the other kitten. Right now its all about survival, and getting away from the horrible sound.

The kids now know that if the kittens fight they should make the horrible sound. They are very good at making horrible sounds so this comes naturally to them.

Every few minutes shrill sirens of noise erupt. The kittens break apart. The kids are pleased with the fact that their horrible sounds help the situation. The kids are pleased that they are allowed to make horrible and shrill and loud sounds without being told to stop.

Our house is much louder than it was before.

I've long wondered how much of the screaming and shrieking our neighbor is privy to. I've wondered if she has contemplated calling CPS when she hears me screaming. I've wondered if she realizes that special needs kids don't sleep, and they are very loud. I wonder if she realizes that some of all of that screaming simply comes with the territory. I wonder how many times she hears me yell
"STOP IT!"
and wonders why I keep saying the same thing over and over.

But now I wonder about more than just the yelling and noise. I wonder if she contemplates moving simply because we seem to be a family of bats.

Its an Opossum

We definitely have an opossum.

I've continued to ask Oliver:

Is this a cat or an opossum?

He continually answers:

Opossum!

So there we have it. We have an opossum in the family.

I Got Fired

We can't really afford the babysitter we have. $25 an hour is extreme. But I hired her because she has experience with special needs kids. She has worked with large families. She wasn't intimidated either by the size of my family or the ages of the children. She wasn't intimidated by the idea of a special needs child.

OK. Hired.

She has worked for us for a while now. Its never been ideal. $25 is a lot. It adds up fast. Plus, I hired her with the idea that she'd watch all four. As it turned out she found it difficult to pick up Holden from school. So I had to schedule everything so I could get Holden.

When she watched three I'd come home to find her playing with the twins. Oliver would be off somewhere. I had told her that you actually have to engage him. He didn't seem engaged. She was nice though.

So then I started having her come in the mornings and I'd get some things done. So she watched two children, during their nap time, for $25 an hour.

Then I got a text message.

She was sorry, but she couldn't work for me anymore. Good luck!

Um.. WHAT? I got fired by my babysitter? The babysitter I paid $25 an hour to watch sleeping toddlers?

I asked her why.

She told me it was because her other family now needs her 4x a week and she didn't want to ask me to switch days. Um.. why not??
I would have switched days, had she asked. But I didn't reply to that. I took it as my sign that that was the end of the $25 an hour babysitter.

So now I'm back to having no babysitter.

How do you get fired by a babysitter?
I can't believe I got fired.

Thank god for the Wiggles.

So Much for My Career as a Babyproofer

Six years ago I was very attentive when it came to things like child locks and outlet covers. Our drawers all had special locks, the TV cabinet had a special lock. Our house was safe.
Holden loved the TV lock. He called it " Fies" for some reason. He slept with Fies. Fies was his friend. Holden knew he was never to touch an outlet. Holden knew knives were sharp.

Then we had Oliver. Oliver is another story. He always has been. Oliver was one tough cookie. Oliver was strong. He could break open locks. But we still attempted to keep things hidden and locked away.

Along came the twins. I guess somewhere between Oliver and the twins we kind of gave up. We don't have working child locks. Sure we have the child locks installed. But they don't work properly anymore. Of course we have outlet covers. Oliver knows how to work all of them.

A few weeks ago Jeff was grilling a steak. He came in to get something. When he went back out there was Oliver, basting the steak. Oliver told Jeff " Its hot". Yes, it is. I'm glad he understands that. However, most kids learn its hot and figure they shouldn't touch it. Oliver learns its hot and is careful. Scary.

We have a locked cabinet in the bathroom which houses all medications. The thermometer is in there too. We have to get the key and unlock it every time someone feels a bit warm. Its a pain, of course, but we are pretty careful about that sort of thing.

For some reason I didn't put the children's vitamins in the cabinet. I kept them on a shelf, a high shelf, in a kitchen cabinet.

I didn't used to give them vitamins. My pediatrician had never mentioned it. My kids eat fairly well. But I was at Whole Foods and there is the vitamin aisle I spied Multisaurus dino vitamins. Well, that should appeal to everyone. I checked the ingredients. Seems OK, not that I'm an expert by any means, but the iron content seemed low and I know that overdosing on Iron is the concern with children's vitamins. So I picked some up. Everyone started getting one dinosaur every morning with breakfast.

Well, they loved them. Of course they loved them, they taste like Pixie Stix in solid form. They would beg for more. The answer was always no. One. Everyone gets one. Even if you get a stegosaurus and you really wanted a T Rex, you only get one.

Until the day that Oliver decided to climb up and get the entire bottle down. He was very nice and shared them with Laurel.

And we called poison control.

Fortunately Multisaurus vitamins are OK because of the very low dose of Iron ( 2 mg). Apparently a lot of people have Flinstone vitamins and those have 16 mg of iron. No vitamins for the kids for a week, and we need to give them lots of water. They were fine, but I threw away the vitamins.


I have the Halloween decorations out. We have several of the LeMax moving, lighted decorations. Witches that fly around a spooky tree, witches that circle around a cauldron. Oliver loves Halloween. He loves pumpkins. He loves watching the little witches circle around. So he plugs them in. He knows exactly how to work all the child outlet locks. So he does it himself. At first I tried to stop this. I don't want a 5 year old touching outlets. But unless I want to hire someone to sit next to the outlet I can't really stay on top of it. Whenever I walk into the room the decorations are moving. Again. I don't know what the going rate is for Outlet Supervisor, but I'm sure its not in the budget.

At least he is self sufficient.

An Opossum Named Walle

The cat saga continues.

Paddington desperately wants a friend. Chloe isn't as enthusiastic about the idea of a new friend. Chloe wants to be left alone.

So I spoke with Marin Cat Connections last week. They are kind of over the top cat people. They ( again) told me I should have 2 kittens so the older one would be left alone. I wasn't so sure I'd want another kitten. I remained open to the idea. I left an application, thinking they'll either turn me down, or if accepted, I could turn them down. They will also take a cat back if its not a good fit.

Holden and I went to the adoption place today. We were accepted. Not for the cat we'd put the application in for, but her brother. He seemed pretty sweet. They thought he'd be a good fit with our chaos.

For some reason it took most of today to fill out the paper work and answer their many follow through questions. What are the ages of my other cats? Did I have animals growing up? What do I think is a good reason for getting rid of a cat?

I guessed that telling them I get a new cat every 6 months or as often as I redecorate because I like the cat to match my decor was not the answer they were looking for.

I filled out more paperwork. I answered more questions. I paid the adoption fee. I signed a document stating I'd always be a good cat owner and take care of the cat and go to the vet and I'd never do bad things.

They said the surrogate mom owner person would bring her to my house and help me get him set up. I needed to have a special room where he could be sequestered. We don't have that, but I pretended we did.

So tonight the kids had dinner and shortly thereafter a woman arrived with our newest cat. His name was Chattsworth and I wanted to change it.

I asked the kids what we should name the cat.

Stripey.

Cutie Pie.

Monkey.

Walle.

Oliver is convinced the cat is an opossum. He is white with gray ( Siamese mix). He does kind of look like an opossum.

" Oliver, who is that?"

" Thats Opossum. Thats Walle"

So now we have an opossum named Walle.

Oops, I Vacuumed the Snake

This is the conversation Holden and I had on the way home from school:

Holden: Ian has the hugest fish tank in the world because he has lots of fish. Its so awesome. He has every kind of pet you can have. He has dogs and a cat and lots of fish.

Me: Does he have a bird?

Holden: Oh. No.

Me: Hedgehog? Mouse? Rat? Hamster? Iguana? Ferret?

Holden: Oh , I forgot about those pets.

Me: Snake?

Holden: Aww, that would be so cool. Can I get a snake?

Me: No.

Holden: Pleeease? Why can't I have a snake? I really want a snake!

Me: You can't have a snake because I might vacuum it up by accident. I might suck it up into the vacuum hose.

Holden: I will keep it in a tank, like the fish , and take really good care of it. OK? Please?

Me: No. I might accidentally vacuum it out of the tank when I'm cleaning.

Holden: Well, I could take it out of the tank and hold it and keep it safe.

Me: Well, I might think you already took it out of the tank but really you might have just spent 3 hours in the bathroom combing your hair and I'll just think you took it out of the tank but you didn't and I'll start cleaning the snake tank and I'll suck the snake right into the vacuum hose and then you'd be sad.

Holden: Well I could make special holes on the side of the tank that the snake can't get through and you could vacuum through the holes and you won't be able to get the snake.

Me: No, because I'll forget about the special holes and I'll just stick the vacuum in there and then I'll vacuum the snake. Honey, its just not a good idea to let me be around snakes.

Holden: NO FAIR! You always have to vacuum EVERYTHING!

Our Currency

Holden: Mommy, why do we have pictures of presidents on our money?

Me: Well, its a way that we can honor them.

Holden: Oh.

Holden: I wish there was a picture of me on our money. That would be so awesome!

Heartbreaking

Having special needs in the family is exhausting. I suppose any child can be exhausting. Multiple children are exhausting. But special needs just seems to be in a realm of its own. Well, thats how it seems to me.
I have spent the last 5 years making appointments and petitioning to be seen, and getting our names on wait lists that are over a year long. We have seen countless specialists and spent more money than I can count. I read about the newest therapies, regale myself with the success stories. I seek out stories from those that have lived through it, or knew someone that has been through it. I am comforted by their words, their pain, their hurt, their grief and their joys.
I have finally learned to cope with the day to day.
I can smile at people and tell them my child has special needs without feeling my heart crack in half and without my eyes brimming with tears.
I know who to contact when I have questions or concerns. I know the importance of getting on the list, even if we might not be seen until 2010.
I tell myself I can do this and I brace myself for each day with its many many challenges.
I steel myself for the breakdowns and meltdowns if we need to wait in a line or if food is not instantaneous. I try to understand the people that glare at me and my child . I know how he appears. He is throwing a fit because he didn't get instant gratification. He looks " normal", therefore he is a brat. But he isn't. He doesn't understand. He is smart but he doesn't understand.
I don't make excuses for him. Not usually. I just try to keep everything and everyone in check.
What breaks my heart is how few people actually get to see how sweet he can be.

A striking moment for me came with reading the book " Born on a Blue Monday". The author, who is autistic, recounts falling down the stairs as a child. He got up, and although it hurt, it did not occur to him to tell anyone. That description changed my approach. I started giving more words, narrating Oliver's life. You fell down, that hurt, ouch!
I believe it has helped.
I still marvel when he answers a question. He left the dinner table tonight and I asked where he was going.
" Go to pee in the potty".

I love that.
Yet, he still doesn't tell me if he doesn't feel well. He just won't eat dinner then all of a sudden he is throwing up. I'll have had no idea that he didn't feel well.

This morning he got up with a horrible wheezy cough and his voice was rough and raspy. He was so disappointed that I wasn't letting him go to school. I have no way of knowing how he really feels. Does his throat hurt? Does it hurt to breathe?

Its not like having a baby that can't talk. Its different. And it breaks my heart.

The Upcoming Bake Sale Event

Holden's school's annual Halloween festival event is coming up. Parents are asked to contribute in myriad ways. One of which is baking.
I have decided I will bake. I like baking. I can either bake something substantial as in a cake for the cakewalk, or something simple, like cookies for the treat tables.
I asked Holden if he would like to help me bake. Holden likes baking with me. He gets to wear his "cooking suit", which is an apron. He loves rolling out dough. He has his own rolling pin. He is my future chef.
So, of course, when I asked if he'd like to be involved in this venture he said yes.
I asked what he thought we should make.
He thought.
He thought some more.

"Eggs" he said emphatically.

I'm not sure this will be the hot ticket item.

Good Morning

Why do my kids wake up so early? Its still dark out. They are tired. Don't they need sleep?

The worst part is that they wake up and they are already wide awake. No, the worst part is that the idea of being quiet because others are sleeping is not something that they understand or care to understand.

5:30 am
Holden:
MOMMMMY? WHAT DOES A MONGOOSE EAT?

Um... I have no idea. Its dark out. I can only look up the eating habits of the mongoose when its light out.

OH. Well, Paddington was so cute and he licked my hand and I think he is hungry and maybe I could feed him now . Should I give him the blue plate or the white plate? But Oliver wants to feed Chloe, but thats not fair because he got to the other day. When I was on the playground I fell but I didn't cry and on the other day it was PE day , but how come I always have to scooter to school when I wanted to ride my bike?

I don't know, please go back to sleep.

OK, but I really wanted to be with someone.

Mmmm.

Silence. Then I hear crashing and giggling and stomping and the sound of herds of antelope running from danger. Holden has woken Laurel and Griffin.

Holden? Did you wake the babies?

No, they were awake but I just needed to be with them.

Laurel:
MOMMY? DADDY? I WANT BREAKFAST. BREEEEAAAAKKKKFFFAAASSSSTTT. I HUNGRY. Hey mommy? HEY MOMMY! I want miiiiilllllk, mommy. I WANT MILK. MOMMY! DADDY! I WANT MIIILLLLLKKKK.

Oliver:
NEED GET DRESSED. NEED MIGHTY BITES. NEED BLUE PANTS. NEED LETTER SHIRT. EHHEH, EHEHH, EHHEHHH, AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH

Griffin:
Hiiiiiii. Hi mommy. Hiiii daddy. Hi Ho'den, Hi O'ber. Hiiiiiii.

OK, I guess everyone is up.

All right guys, mommy and daddy need coffee.

Griffin:
I want coffee mommy. I want coffee.

Well, I guess I'm ready to start another joy filled day.

Why is there a piece of chewed on pizza next to my side of the bed?

Carrots

The other day the kids decided they were starving. Absolutely starving . We had ordered pizza and were waiting for it to arrive. But the kids could not wait. So I gave them baby carrots. If they are so completely ravenous that they can't wait for pizza then wrecking their dinner with carrots is OK by me.
Holden likes carrots, but he was at soccer practice. Oliver, Laurel and Griffin aren't big fans of carrots.
But, to prove just how famished they'd become they ate some carrots. Well, actually they chewed on some carrots. I ate a few to demonstrate just how delicious and fabulous carrots are, and how much fun it was to eat them.
Laurel was very entertained by this show of enthusiasm. She wasn't inspired to eat any carrots, but she did want to feed some to me since clearly I enjoyed them very much. So she'd run over to the table, grab a few and try to stuff them in my mouth.
I obligingly ate a few. Until she shoved a warm one in my mouth. Oh good god, why was it warm?

Happy Halloween

I know I shouldn't spend time on Facebook, and Instant Messenger, and all of the other online places where I whittle away the hours. These online hideaways are my way of checking out for a little while, take a break from the chaos.
So yesterday I happily chatted with friends, found some faces from the past on Facebook. It was fun. I ignored the silence. The silence. Not the chaos. I ignored the silence.
You'd think I'd catch on. There should NEVER be silence in this house.

Oliver walked through the room. He was green.
Oliver isn't supposed to be green.
I went into the playroom. Green permanent fabric marker. On their clothes, on their faces, they'd given themselves manicures and pedicures, it was on the rug. Did I mention these are permanent fabric paint pens?

Oliver surveyed his green toes, looked up at me and happily said " Happy Halloween".

Happy Halloween, honey.

How Did You Sleep?

What is it that is so fun about complaining? There can be something cathartic in it. Yet it can also spiral out of control. Especially if you don't hear yourself. We're all guilty of it. Some more than others.
You know whats coming, don't you Jeff?

Take my loving husband for example. I have learned not to answer his innocuous seeming questions.
Were you warm enough last night?

Seems innocent enough, right? Nope. Not innocent. If I say yes...

Of course you were, you had all the covers.

If I say I was cold...

You were cold, I was freezing.

Another seemingly innocent question:
Did you sleep well?
OK, that one is not as seemingly innocent. There is a question that is generally loaded. Whenever anyone asks if you slept well you know its an intro into how well they did not sleep.
So if I say yes, I did in fact sleep well...

I don't know how you didn't hear the kids, they were up every hour, I got no sleep.

If I say no, I was up with the kids...

Yeah, I heard you get up that one time and then I had to get up every 20 minutes and you didn't hear a thing. I'm glad one of us got some sleep.

I've finally learned the importance of beating him to it.

Did you sleep well?

Well, no one slept as poorly as me. You slept right through it when the ice pick wielding lunatic barged in and nicked out my right eye. But I didn't complain because I didn't want to wake you.

And you, how did you sleep?

If the Vet Says its OK

I haven't been using my crutches as I'd like to think I've put this whole thing behind me. The novelty has worn off and in my opinion I'm done. I'm cured now. Its over. Time to get back to walking around like a regular person.
Unfortunately my Dr. does not share my enthusiasm. I'm stuck with this stupid shoe for another week. I did get my stitches out. But I thought I was going to impress him with my great mobility and ability to heal myself in 2 easy weeks. But no, he said I have to keep icing it and keep this horrible shoe. I am however, done with the crutches if I don't want them. I don't.
I quickly figured out that I can't carry anything and use crutches. So I decided I'd give them up. I like carrying things. I like getting things done. Sitting around isn't really my thing.
Holden has been asking daily if the vet said I get to keep the crutches when I'm done with them.
I don't go to a vet.

Sure, if I thought it would save time and money I'd try out a vet. But as it turns out , insurance covered this surgery so I just went with a regular old Dr.

So my Dr, or vet as Holden refers to him, confirmed that I am finished with the crutches and , best news of all, I get to keep them. So the crutches have been lowered to the lowest notch of all and the kids get to play surgery.

What could be better than that?

Wartimus

It hasn't gone away. My son's gross wart has not gone away. I'm not a big fan of warts. I'm not sure if many people are fans of warts. I'm sure there are some people out there that are intrigued by them. People that like gross foot related things. Podiatrists.
Anyway, it hasn't gone away.
It makes me gag.
We tried some over the counter stuff that didn't work at all. Or rather I bought some over the counter stuff and Jeff put it on him. ( See above - the part where I said warts make me gag). Nothing happened. He has a gross wart. The pediatrician had told us to try putting duct tape on it. I have no idea how that was supposed to work but we tried it. Why would putting duct tape on it work? What would that do? Maybe hide it so I wouldn't gag? But I hadn't asked advise about how to refrain from gagging, I'd asked about getting rid of the wart. I gave up on the pediatrician and the helpful duct tape suggestions. I gave up on the ineffective sludge Jeff basted on my son's wart which seemed to accomplish nothing.
We took him to my podiatrist. I thought he'd burn the wart off. He didn't. He said he no longer liked to do that with kids. It was just too stressful trying to keep them still while they shrieked in horror.
I was half thankful there would be no wart burning. I had wanted the wart gone . ( Again, reference above where I stated warts make me gag). But I also knew that of all my children this would be the child to react the most to the idea of searing flesh. There was also the issue that I had all four kids with me at this appointment.
I had brought raisins and puffed corn. A lot of raisins and puffed corn. But the question, as always, was how long can a food bribe last.
There was no way a triple stroller would travel through the narrow corridors to the patient rooms. Everyone would be free. Free to allow chaos to reign. Four small children in an office filled with gnarled footed patients. Gross.
DO NOT EAT ANYTHING OFF OF THIS FLOOR!
Its not so much that I was afraid of germs. I was afraid of.. ack! foot residue. OMG, I'm gagging just thinking about it. Gross.. feet...eeeew.
There was a lot of complaining and griping about raisins and lack thereof and who had more and who needed some and who took whose raisins but I was able to have the DR look at Holden's gross wart. He said that he'd had great luck with Tagamint/Tagamen something like that. An oral medication. Three times daily for 6 weeks , plus a topical solution. Sounds easy enough. He took a look at the wart while Holden screamed, imagining that something painful might be happening. The DR explained that THIS is why he prefers Tagamen or whatever its called. I had the office call in the Rx for me.
I just love Walgreen's drive through.
Holden wants to know if he gets to have whatever he wants for dinner.
Because you have a wart? I ask incredulously.
Yes, he tentatively answers, less sure he'll get the presents and chocolate and cake and balloons he'd hoped for.
No.
When we got home I explained that his wart was so big that we had to name him Wartimus. Wartimus had an identity large enough to warrant a name. Holden wasn't sure if he was being made fun of at first. But eventually took on the idea of Wartimus.

We all have to remember to feed Wartimus three times a day. Wartimus has to have his topical solution once a day, after the bath. Wartimus knows this medicine will make him go away so he protests, often in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jeff's.

Slowly but surely Wartimus is losing his place in this family.

He won't be missed.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I think the spawn of the Devil lives at my house.

The innocent sweet trembling little kitten we rescued from the crazy cat woman is anything but sweet. If he is trembling its only because he possesses the great power of the underworld.
Every time I try to use the laptop he pounces. His sharp teeth tear at my flesh, he bounds over the keyboard and attacks the screen. He bounds over my bandaged foot. He attacks my crutches. He claws me with his extra claws.
At first I pitied the small beast and quasi affectionately referred to him as the Beast of Pontypandy. The reference is lost on anyone who has limited knowledge of Welsh rescue heroes. ( Fireman Sam is on TIVO, under PBS Kids).
I've come to realize that Paddington simply cannot be compared to an innocently disguised pet sheep. Rather he is truly a beast.
Paddington has a problem with biting. He play bites but his sharp little baby teeth are sinking too deep, cutting too hard. I tried covering his nose when he bit. I've tried blowing in his face. The kids find the latter technique highly amusing, but thats about all its good for.
Paddington is the spawn of the Devil. You can't blow in the face of evil personified and expect it to work. Evil isn't afraid of expressed breath.

Paddington's evil energy knows no bounds. He always has the energy to tear through the house, tearing and clawing at anything and anyone in his path. Of course thats generally me. He wriggles his tiny bottom and attacks, those little teeth sink into my hand, my arm , my leg. Any part of me that has moved or twitched is prey. Prey for the beast.

As I wonder how I'll deal with this wretched creature he collapses into a small pile of contented purring black fur. He curls under the bend of my knee, the crook of my arm, he reaches a surprisingly small and gentle paw and dabs at my face, his eyes full of innocent love , and he falls asleep. The epitome of the sweet and loving kitten, rescued and grateful.

Then he awakens.

He begins his reign of terror once again. He bites , he claws, he stampedes over my body. He pounces on my arms , he hops over my bandaged foot, and he bites. Hard.


I suspect he drinks the blood of goats while we sleep.

Griffin asked where Paddington was this afternoon.

I don't know honey, probably drinking goats blood.

Oh. Pad'ton d'wink goat.

Yes Honey, thats right.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Living the Good Life

My mom volunteered to come out and help after I'd had surgery. This was before our east coast trip. After spending time with the kids there was no more mention of help.
Suddenly her schedule was very busy. There was just no way she could come out right now, she informed me angrily, as though I'd suggested it in the first place. ( I hadn't).
OK , so Jeff will take some time off and then I'll mysteriously find a way to hobble through. I mean, what choice do we have?
So I had the surgery. She called two days ago and left a message. I called back today.

You've had the surgery, She informed me.

Yes.

And its all fine.

Well, I'm on crutches, my foot is broken and there is a pin in my foot, but yes, it went well.

Did they give you drugs?

Yes, Vicodin.

But you don't need that. Its fine if you just keep it up.

Actually I've had a few.

Oh so you're fine.

In the background her new husband asks if I need them to come out.

My mom collapses into nervous laughter. Why thats the funniest thing she has ever heard. Help her? Because she had surgery and has four kids? Oh ha ha ha. We're so busy ourselves, we have to get new passport photos and we're traveling for the weekend and we are landscaping and now there are 3 waterfalls on the property. What with all the workers arriving, why we are so busy...
I hear her new husband say I could come there and they could take care of me.
I would never do that.
Even if I wanted to do that I couldn't because I can't fly for several months after this surgery.
My mom guffawed again. Imagine them taking care of me just because I'd had surgery . Ha ha ha, a hilarious notion.

She couldn't possibly help. She has waterfalls to attend to and European trips to plan.

She asked where the kids were. I said Jeff had taken them swimming.
Oh so you are having a break! Oh how nice of him!

a break? A BREAK? Yes, this is a fantastic break.

I don't have a bedroom. We gave it up so the kids could have a playroom. Our bed is next to the dryer , just off of the kitchen. It does make the house better during the day. The kids have room to take out a game and play if they want. I don't regret it. I like the town we live in. I like the people. I like the schools. I like the friends my kids have made. I like the friends we've made. I wouldn't want to give it all up just to move to a bigger house in a less desirable area. We're OK.

But when surgery which requires me to use crutches is dismissed as some sort of vacation, and my mom can't help because she has waterfalls to attend to , and I get emailed " Greetings from Istanbul!" then I feel annoyed.

Greetings from next to the dryer. Its hot here too.