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).