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.