Category Archives: Friday wrapup

Cast Away

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After three weeks of Aitch-EE-Double-Hockey-Sticks, Bugaboo had his cast removed. Honestly? He did so super well with it I was shocked. The first few days he handed us every pair of scissors and every butter knife he could find, in an effort to get us to remove is. When that didn’t work he took to attempting to saw it off himself.

I’m sure it was uncomfortable. Casts suck. But after three days he figured out to hold his arm up at just the right angle in order to promote his spinning (he LOVES standing under a ceiling fan and spinning with it!). He learned to sleep with the arm outside the blankets so he didn’t whack himself in the head with it. And although it was FILTHY by the time it was taken off (holy cow, did it stink), he learned to use the arm with the cast to pick things up, move things, eat, play on his iPad and more. I’m quite proud of him, really.

And when they took it off? He was LIKE A BOSS. Didn’t even budge. Of course, the sedation helped. Ahem. But we walked out of there and he was practically skipping in the halls of DuPont. It took him a few hours to realize, “Oh. Yeah! I forgot! I don’t have to keep this arm at a 90 degree angle anymore and I can use it!” He’s left handed and tends to use his left for everything so it didn’t even occur to him he could use his right arm again. And he spent three weeks perfecting the art of the one-armed headstand! Nothing keeps this kid down, that’s for certain. Even when he had the flu last week he’d get up, do a headstand, jump over the knee wall and then collapse on the couch for a few hours. Then get back up, vault over the hassock and park himself on the other side of the couch. Even sick he can’t sit still.

Now I have to keep him from re-breaking his elbow for a few weeks until we’re out of the danger zone. Wish me luck, this will be no easy feat.

I Will Survive, the 2013 Version

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Holy Cow, what a two weeks we’ve had

Which do you want to hear about first? When we drove all over the ghetto in the city looking for a Home Improvement Warehouse two blocks from certain death and shooting to find icicle lights on DECEMBER 29 and then got home and found out THEY WERE THE WRONG ONES and had to go back and return them and get the right ones?`Did I mention ghetto? Fun times, there. Or the other day when I spent 7 hours in the ER with the Bugaboo because he had an eye infection (from plucking out his eyelashes, and possibly from splashing in public toilets) because he bit me and gouged a chunk of skin from my face when we tried to give him eyedrops and threw up the oral antibiotics, so went to the ER fast track to see if they’d just give him a damned intramuscular shot and they didn’t fast track us and instead talked about admitting him for IV antibiotics and they finally relented and gave him the shots?

I swear, I can’t make this stuff up. We’re never bored.

Maybe that’s why when things are going really well and nothing big or bad is happening I have writer’s block MAJOR and can’t come up with something to save my life.

I’m not a good writer, I just play one on tv. Heh.

Anywho, we made it to 2013 with some friends and family around us. Bugaboo opened his gifts on Christmas for the first time ever (!) and even seemed to enjoy his birthday. We went with a local autism group to The Big Mouse Company on Ice and he loved it. Fortunately, the group hosting us rented a club box which meant all the kids and adults with autism could wander, mill about, jump up and down and had plenty of space to be themselves. The best way to see ANYTHING, in my opinion. And FREE! FOOD! AND DRINKS! Winning, all around.

I’m not sure if Bugaboo even knows it, but his tenth birthday was last week. Ten. Years. Old. TEN. I have two kids in double digits. And I’m happy and sad about that. Happy because my boys are growing and thriving and, well, HAPPY. Sad because they are so big and the baby-making days are long behind me. Yes, I’m insane. Taking care of my infant nephew is making me realize two things. Firstly, I miss having newborns around and it’s awesome to see babies who do things at actual developmental stages (instead of kids who followed their own curve, made it up as they went along, skipped entire stages and plowed through five months of development in a week). Thing the second, I realized I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE ANOTHER BABY. EVER EVER EVER EVER. I’m forty, yo. I get tired muuuuuuch faster and my energy gets zapped after nine hours with a new born. And thirdly? (I lied, there are three) it sure is nice to cuddle a baby all I want all day and then hand him back over and go to sleep. MWAHAHAHA!!!

You know, because I’m sleeping TONS with the Bugaboo around.

So. 2013. Let’s see. I don’t make resolutions but I do try to find things I want to improve. Like taking care of myself. One thing I really, really must do a better job with? Taking care of myself. I actually need to do something to improve my well-being, and I don’t just mean a colonoscopy (though I have to schedule it in February for my yearly one, since I have that pesky precancerous polyp thing going on). I need to get more exercise, find better ways to relax and enjoy my life when I can, eat better and be happier. I’m a pretty happy person, I get exercise where I can and I eat fairly well but lately I just don’t feel like ME. I’ve gained some weight (thanks, hormones) and I have zero energy (thanks, hormones). Needless to say, the monthly physical and resulting bloodwork is scheduled. Now, I know it’s winter and that usually means S.A.D. But I still think I could have a TEENSY BIT MORE energy, considering Bugaboo is actually sleeping right now, I’m taking a multivitamin and a fiber supplement and I’m actually NOT anemic (for a change).

So. 2013. The Year of DG. Coincidentally, 2012 was going to be The Year of DG but life kinda got in the way and stuff. But this year? This year awesome things will happen. I feel it in my bones.

Or that could be the hormones again. One of the two.

Bad Toaster Oven Karma

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Appliances hate living in my house so much they make the decision to stop working, in the hopes of getting put on the curb with the trash and snatched up by a junk collector to be given a second chance.

The latest was the toaster oven. We’re on our fourth or fifth one in sixteen years of marriage. Or we were, anyways. Two weeks ago we had yet another cheapo counter top toaster oven go kaput, complete with flames and smoke. Fortunately I was standing near it when it happened and could unplug and extinguish it RIGHT AWAY. Unfortunately, this had to happen right before Christmas and the last thing I wanted to spend money on was a new appliance.

Unless it was a beautiful, new appliance I’ve been coveting drooling over for years. Ahem.

Anywho, toaster oven. It ceased to function. And Mr. Fixit (aka The Guy I Live With) wanted to try to fix it and IMMA ALL HELL TO THE NO. Because burning our house down? Not high on my list of priorities at the moment. And the Bugaboo, he needs a toaster oven. We’re trying to teach him to be more independent and it’s age appropriate for him to throw some tater tots and chicken fingers (gluten-free, of course!) in the toaster oven to make himself food. Right? I mean, instead of eating them frozen out of the fridge as he usually does. So. Toaster oven. I sent The Guy I Live With to a local house wares type of place that lets you use those 20% off coupons? Well, he came home with this:

OOOOOhhhhh. Aaaaaaahhhh. Shiny.

OOOOOhhhhh. Aaaaaaahhhh. Shiny.

Needless to say, Momma was happy. Because Momma has wanted that PARTICULAR Countertop Convection oven for a very, very long time. Happy Christmas to me! And next year’s birthday. And next year’s anniversary. Because it was $$$, y’all. But oooooh sooooo worth it. This thing is quite the gadget, I can assure you. It senses how many freaking pieces of toast are in it. It cooks to perfection. It pretty much does everything but predict the future and make twenty-dollar bills. I lerves it so hard.

Except.

Remember that part about teaching the Bugaboo to be more independent?

(You see where this is going, right?)

Sooooo I sort of had my newborn nephew the other day and Bugaboo was home from school. Normally I watch other children during the day because I cannot handle Bugaboo and another kid all by my lonesome (sometimes I get my neighbor’s daughter to come and help because she LOVES! BABIES!). Anywho, the nephew needed some sustenance, because it turns out you have to FEED babies. Like regularly and stuff. And although our kitchen is open to our family room, separated by a mere half-wall, I was sitting with my back to the kitchen. And a few minutes into the bottle for the baby, I heard DING! And smelled something a little…off.

Except it was on.

The toaster oven, I mean. The Queen Mother of all Toaster Ovens was operating without my knowledge. And the Bugaboo was in the kitchen. Behind me. Where I couldn’t see him.

That’s when I stood up with the baby and saw this:

Melted plate. Did I mention the toaster oven is NEW?

Melted plate. Did I mention the toaster oven is NEW?

And in case you don’t know what that is, I’ll give you a hint: Blue IKEA kids’ plate. With chicken nuggets on it. Melted in my brand-spanking-new counter top convection oven.

The good news is this is precisely when my neighbor’s twelve-year-old came over to ogle the baby and she was quite useful as I heated and scraped and heated and scraped and heated and scraped (lather, rinse, repeat) until the plastic was all removed from the rack and the toaster oven. And I never turned my back on Bugaboo in the kitchen again! THE END!

But wait, there’s more!

Then this past weekend, Bugaboo was camped out on the couch sick. His brother was in the basement playing with a friend, The Guy I Live With was outside doing yard work (read: hiding in garage) and I was tossing Frisbees and tennis balls for the dogs. For a whopping two minutes. Which is precisely the moment Bug Boy ran outside shouting, “MOOOOOM! A PIPE BURST AND WATER IS POURING DOWN THE BASEMENT CEILING!” And I ran inside to see water dripping down the step from the kitchen into the family room, water pouring down my kitchen counter like a cascading waterfall, water running under the BRAND NEW TOASTER OVEN while it was still plugged in, an ipad sitting on the counter top and the new spigot pointed over the counter and turned on.

So not a burst pipe. But let’s just say I had a lot of water to sop up very quickly while simultaneously unplugging and drying out electronical device who were resting very innocently on my kitchen counter.

Now. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.

The Week That Was (The Least Awesomest)

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Some weeks I should just stay in bed.

Like weeks that start out with me getting locked out of the house? Yep. Bed. Covers over my head. Stay there for a few days. When it subsides, get out of bed. TADA! WINNING!

Except there’s that whole “I have to be a responsible adult” thing that’s totally cramping my style.

I’d like to forget yesterday ever happened. I woke up feeling kinda ooky. I had my baby nephew for the day so I was a tad busy and didn’t even realize why I felt ooky. Towards the end of the day I went into the bathroom and realized “ZOMG THIS IS WHY I FEEL SO OOKY.”  Because it huuuuuuurt to pee.

Yep. UTI. And naturally I didn’t realize it until after the doctor closed for the afternoon. So my choice was go to Urgent Care and sit FOR HOURS for them to say, “Yep!  UTI!” and hand me a script or drink a sh*t-ton of fluids, wait until the morning and call first thing to get an appointment. On a Friday. I have better chances of hitting the lottery. I don’t play the lottery.

Anywho. UTI. I suffered through dinner and a nighttime Home and School Meeting and got home hoping  to sit in a steaming hot bath for some relief and that’s when The Guy I Live With came downstairs to show me the Bugaboo’s ipad.

It looked like this:

Houston, we have a problem. A BIG EFFING PROBLEM.

Houston, we have a problem. A BIG EFFING PROBLEM.

You are looking at Bugaboo’s broken iPad. It still works (THANK YOU BABY JEBUS) but the screen has a teensy it of a crack to it. Ok, a lot.While I was at my meeting, Bugaboo took it up to bed. No biggy, right? Except The Guy I Live With went to check on him and found it like this. We THINK he tried to jam the button in too hard and ended up cracking the screen. At least that’s what it looks like. And before you say, “Otter Box!”  He has DESTROYED TWO OF THEM.  And they are no help for a broken button, yo. Just saying.

I figure that since three sh*tty things happened this week, we’re good, right? Right. Next week will be perfect.

(Except Bug Boy has been coming home every single day this week in tears. IT WAS THE WORST DAY EVERRRR because he is SO STRESSED OUT AND THERE’S TOO MUCH PRESSURE. Because he had speech and two music lessons in one day. And next week on his birthday he’ll miss four periods for practice for the winter concert next week. What kid COMPLAINS about missing class? My kid.That’s who. Oh, and he’s afraid of the new middle school violin teacher. Who is a sweet, sweet older woman.Only because he’s used to his old teacher of three years in elementary school. Sigh.)

(The good news is I got an appointment. Let’s hope they hook me up with some GOOD DRUGS)

It’s All in the Details

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Living with “attention to detail” can be a blessing and a curse.

Hiding from the lawn mower man.

See, noticing EVERY. LITTLE. THING. in your environment can be overwhelming and exhausting. I’m proud that I’m good at this sort of thing but at the same time? It would be nice if I could shut my brain for just a leeeetle while.

My kids have inherited this. To the nth degree. Bug Boy is like his mommy in the, “This bottle of ice tea has been moved thirty degrees! DID YOU DRINK MY ICE TEA?” And Bugaboo? It’s no wonder he shuts down after a while. If everything is louder/smells more/brighter/feels worse to him, wouldn’t you block the world out, too? Yep.

Sometimes I just need a mental health day to deal with it. And when the lack of sleep thing comes into play, I’m twitchier. I actually have a more difficult time falling asleep because I’m so effing overstimulated. Makes perfect sense, right? And the less Bugaboo sleeps, the more difficult it is for him to sleep. And the more difficult it is for him to function. It’s a vicious cycle. If he doesn’t sleep, he’s more hyper, more aware and more agitated. You’d think it would slow him down but UH UH. It just amplifies everything.

Of course, I’ve been conducting a few experiments. One of our castle guys for the kids’ toy castle downstairs has been sitting in the grass FOR MONTHS. It all started when my nephew took a few castle guys to the sandbox and left them there. We recovered a few of them that week but I didn’t realize there was still one in there. A digging puppy found the last one and carried it around the yard to chew, dropping it in its current position. I thought about picking it up a few times but I purposely left it to see if The Guy I Live With will pick it up when he picks up the yard before he cuts the lawn.

It has been sitting there since the beginning of summer.

Let’s paint a pretty little tree right here.

But who am I to judge? I had a tree planted in my yard yesterday and it took me all day to notice it. And I knew it was coming. And it’s about 15 feet tall, with red and orange leaves.

In direct line with my driveway, so I should notice it when I’m pulling up my driveway, right?

Right.

And I didn’t.

Also didn’t notice it when I went into the backyard to hose my shoes off (because I stepped in dog-do taking the trash out. I didn’t notice it when I was taking the trash out, either).

It wasn’t until hours later, when I pulled into the driveway AGAIN, that I noticed the tree was there. This leads me to a few conclusions:

A)The tree wasn’t planted until I went out the second time.

2)The tree was planted while I was out the first time but I was so freaking tired I didn’t notice.

D)The tree was planted while I was home, between the first and second trips out of the house, while I was taking a nap. And proving my dogs are utterly useless when it comes to home security, since it required these people pulling up in a gigantic truck, digging a giant hole, putting the tree in the whole, planting, mulching, watering the tree and then cleaning up. When they planted a tree for us previously this process took AN HOUR.

11)I was so overstimulated from my two-hour meeting and the hour drive (hour each way) and resulting hunger that all I could think about was FOOD FOOD FOOD MUST EAT NAO.

Either way, it’s a nice tree.

Dontcha think?

Dear Me

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Star Trek Fan

Yes, that’s really me. Yes, I made that Star Trek outfit myself. Yes, I still have it. You should see it with the high-heeled boots.I look like Uhura. Except, you know, paler.

Dear Younger Version of Me,

Girl, stop complaining about how fat you are. You aren’t going to stay a size 0 (14 slim girls, really) at the age of 19 and you shouldn’t try. Here’s the thing: Women have curves. Curves are beautiful. Bigger Breasts are beautiful. Fat in your body is what gives you those curves. And makes your skin look good, and your hair, and your breasts…by the way, in twenty years? You will have AWESOME breasts. And gorgeous hair. And dammit, you’re gonna look pretty smoking hot for almost-40. So what if you won’t be a size 0? You’re going to have curves.

Puking your guts up for two years straight did nothing but give you a stomach ulcer at the ripe old age of nineteen and cause massive reflux issues. By the way, you will deal with those for the next twenty years. Good going!  And, to add insult to injury, you’ve also just caused your own gallbladder disease. You’re really winning gold medals all over the place. Just concentrate on moving your body and eating well. Let yourself have ice cream or cookies once in a while, they don’t hurt. Just don’ t eat the whole damn bag like you did that one time you were pregnant.

About school: nine years and four times changing your major? WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT. Hey, at least you are well-rounded. Certainly not “flighty” like Grandmom said.

Here’s the thing. That guy you are with right now? Doesn’t love you. You are both too young and stupid to realize you shouldn’t be together. You think you NEED him and you don’t. I know you care for him and you care about his family but that’s not a healthy relationship. You use each other. You are both codependent. Stop that.

This new guy you met? He’s the real goods. Don’t be so noncommittal. Don’t hurt his feelings. Just open your mind and go with the flow. He’s honest and dependable and treats you the way you should be treated. He lets you have your own thoughts and opinions (And BOY HOWDY, do you have them!). But shut your mouth once in a while. You have this annoying habit when your nervous of chatting everyone’s ears off. Which is funny, because even though people think you are a total extrovert, the truth is you will have crippling social anxiety and a fear of being in large groups. Keep that in mind. You’ll be a card-carrying member of the “Too Stupid to Say No” club, otherwise known as Home and School Association. Not only a member, but the president. Several times.

HOME AND SCHOOL?

Oh, I didn’t mention? You’ll have two kids. They will have challenges and special needs, plus a whole host of health problems. You will learn patience. You know, that one thing you always wished you had? You know how you spaz out and then regret it and get all “OMG I NEED TO LEARN TO BE PATIENT.”

THIS.

You will learn it. But you will love them unconditionally and even though there are days that reduce you to sobs there are also many days that bring joy. You will find out what life is really about. Really and truly.

You will have your heart broken a few times.

You will learn the true meaning of family.

You will, believe it or not, be a role model (STOP LAUGHING). People will look to you for advice and support. Be there for them. But make sure you take the time to take care of yourself, you will need it.

You’ll have a really good life. A wonderful husband, happy children and supportive friends and family.

So don’t sweat the small stuff, mmkay?

And dammit, learn to balance a check book. Because in twenty years, despite the fact that you had a math minor and tutored students in math you will still suck at finances. It’s the only thing you and your husband really argue about. So get on that right away.

Love, Older, Sexier, Wiser, Happier Version of Me.

Autism is…A Community. (Now with More Ryan Gosling!)

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One of the most awesomesauce part of autism? Finding a community of amazing (A. MAY. ZING) parents, autistics and specialists for support. The Internet can be a lousy resource (Paging Dr. Google) but it can also be Wonderfully Helpful. Which is why I am in the midst of updating my Special Needs Resource page. See it up there? Next to “People I stalk” (Sorry about that, by the way)?  I am trying to get all my homies listed up there. My posse. My Autism Peeps. So if I’ve forgotten you? PLEASE TO GIVE LINKY. KTHXBAI.

Also! It’s Friday. This can only mean one thing. RYAN GOSLING.

couldn't resist

Extreme Makeover Ryan Edition

Mmmm...Momma like.

And last but not least…

Isn’t this fun?

See, this other awesomesauce Autism Mom (Sunday Stillwell at Extreme Parenthood) does this Hella Fun spin on that ole Ryan Gosling Meme. I mean, who doesn’t like Ryan Gosling?  (BE QUIET. WHO ASKED YOU?  Oh, I did? My bad).

Anywho, gotta go click the linky and go click other linky thingies and see more funny Ryan Gosling stuff. Because he’s hot. And saves people from taxis. And builds nice houses. And dammit, that scene in the rain…

But this is the thing I was talking about. Community. Being a part of a large community. People who care for one another. People who help one another. I have IRL peeps and Internet Stalkers Peeps and it’s awesome when you can find people to go on this journey with you. People who can tell it like it is. Who keep it real. Who pick you up when you are down. Who give you suggestions to help with your kids. You know, takes a village and whatnot.

For realz.

Happy Friday.