Because we don't own napkins

Here's the baby rockin' his Jack Sparrow shirt with a matching moustache and goatee. I couldn't have planned this level of entertainment.
Just so you know, my little Jack is sporting a pudding 'stash...it's not dirt nor has he had a puberty spurt.

Same boy is currently walking around singing "Honey bun, Honey bun, turn around."

See, this is what spawning large number of children gets you. It's American Idol every night here at the Zoo.

I can print!

Thankfully nothing was wrong with the USB port or cable.
Nope, the printer was just fried. So I bought a new printer yesterday. I had planned to just buy the same model as I the broken one so i could reuse ink cartridges....but alas, Staples doesn't sell that one anymore.

I ended up spending twice what i had planned to spend but on the upside, the new printer is a photo printer. And even greater, it already had a dock for my CF card so that's one more thing I can disconnect from the computer. (It also has a USB port to dock my ipod.)

I drove the Staples lady crazy selecting a printer. Once she finally grasped that i would never, ever, ever again purchase a printer that had a single color ink cartridge, she moved on to her next thing...an all-in-one printer. Then I had to convince her that I already had a scanner that worked quite nicely and had a scan to copy function.
When she exhausted all other efforts, she pointed me to the HP Photosmart printer that met all my needs.

It even loads paper from a front, flat tray so it doesn't get all bent over from humidity. And I can print photos for ZooDad.

The photo sorting software solved another problem that I was having on ZooDad's computer. (My Cannon Software is opening on the dual screen which is no longer hooked up and I can't seem to switch it.) And is also getting along just fine with Photoshop.

Well, I'm back in business. Too bad most of my pictures are stuck until April on my dead battery laptop.
But I did print off my attendance report. Woohoo.

Whoa...I'm almost popular.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 68 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Wow...that's a lot of me's. Too many me's for some people. I'd like to get all 68 of us together and see if we're anything alike.

So I went googling. One of the "me's" is a big time Scientologist. She's even taken classes at the Celebrity center. Oooh-la-la! I hope she finds what she's looking for.

Another me is on the board of Girl's Inc. One is a flute player, a couple others are OB/GYN's, and more than a few are teachers or college students.

One has a child fighting cancer. I'll pray hard for that particular one.

I even found me.
Then I checked ZooDad. There's only two of him in the US and oddly enough.... I have met the other one. He was in the Air force a the base connected to the post we were stationed. Isn't that weird? Of all the places in the US...they end up 10 miles apart and getting their laundry done at the same cleaners.

Weirdness

What???

This one should be filed under Conversations with Zoodad. I don't know if I shared this story or not. If I have...well, here it is again.

Zoodad has gotten quite comfy back in Army life. The acronyms and vocabulary that never really left are just becoming more common. But recently, he just crossed the line.

Me: " I do this thing and then that thing and they will start on such a such day." (I'm a little sketchy on that part of the conversation.)

ZooDad: "Hooah."

Me: "What???? Did you just 'Hooah' me?"

ZooDad: "No, never."

Me: "I know you didn't just 'Hooah' me." (Yes, I got all getto-neck with a pointy finger and everything.) 'I will not be "hooah-ed'. No, no, no."

ZooDad, by this time, is laughing and then yells over his shoulder. "The wife will not be 'hooah-ed." To which a voice replied, "Oh man...you can't say "hooah" to wives. They get pissed."

Yeah, they do.
Hooah!

ARRRRGGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's me screaming my head off. Sorry.

By education, I am a biologist and an educator. By training, I am a forest fire fighter, a pharmacy technician, and I'm fairly decent in the field identifying plant species. And I can do a whole bunch of stuff with string.

But I am not a computer person. That's why I married a computer person. I don't like the hardware, the cables, the program installation, or setting up all the bells and whistles.
I don't even like changing ink cartridges. I'm usually scared to do it for fear, I'll mess something up.
I can turn on a computer and I can use it.
That's it.

I don't fix computer related stuff. That's ZooDad's job. He loves to mess with the computer. He gets all giddy about memory and RAM and all that. Unfortunately, he's off in places dry and sandy with more camels than we have cows.
Even more unfortunately, i have an error message. Something about a USB port being overloaded. I'm sure it is. I had three things plugged into the Macally thingie that's supposed to handle all my USB port dealies. One of which was my camera. The second of witch was my ipod. And the third of which was my freakin' printer.
All of which are now unusable since the USB port is overloaded. I can still take pictures and listen to music...I just can upload pictures or download music. And I can't print crap. So I own high tech paperweights until i can figure out the ISB port issue.

To use mistyped word from an old email list. ...."Wonderfuk!"

Creeping crud

All the inhabitants of the zoo have had a lung crud thing going on since Christmas. Mostly the baby, since he's the one with the most susceptible lungs.

But now it has spread to everyone, including me. I knew it was on the way yesterday when ZooDad remarked, "um....do you have a cold. You sound a bit froggy."
Froggy is an understatement. I sound like a regular swamp chorus.

So we cancelled speech therapy today in an effort to keep our germs as local as possible. Hopefully, the two involved parties will be well enough to attend therapy tomorrow and Thursday. Friday is co-op.
See...stuff goes on whether we want it to or not.

Thankfully, I had already planned for a day off today. Now we can sniffle, cough, and watch Curious George with no interruptions.

Four calls in one day

Poor Zoodad. The time away from home is really starting to affect him. It's been 119 days since we last saw him live and in person. Even longer than that since he's lived here at home. (We made several trip to visit him at his training duty station.)

Christmas hit him hard and he hasn't quite recovered from it. That and a phone call in which he took about time to talk to each boy individually. When it got to the baby's turn..he, the baby, just cried. He was so emotional over hearing his Daddy speaking to him that he couldn't even speak. When I explained what was happening to ZooDad...it broke his heart.

Today, he called four times. He had just received his latest package and the pictures indicated that the children were just going to continue growing whether he was around or not.
"I can't do this anymore."

Of course that broke my heart. I know this man. He's proud of his work. He completes things the way they need to be done because he values the work. He never, ever gives up and he works like a dog. Over our almost 14 years together, I have heard numerous people remark in amazement of his work ethic and his power to get the impossible done. Including one particular comment from a Colonel at a Hail and Farewell about ZooDad's staying power.
He's Superman.
But I know his secret. All that he does, he does all this for us. His family is the thing that motivates him.
When you take the "us" out of the picture...he loses that strength.
It's like reverse kyrptonite. He needs us. He needs me. He needs the boys.
I spent the phone calls trying to do what I could to build him back up. To encourage him and relieve his worries.
We miss him, we need him, but we've got everything under control. I'm handling it.

About 104 more days until he's home on leave. We've already done the math.
"Daddy still lives here, you know. He's just off on a trip. He's being a soldier." Says the baby. I guess he was making sure I was clear on the facts.
"He be home. He will. We give him a biiiiiig hug, Momma "

It's a mutual need.

A good boy

As I was busily uploading pictures to send to ZooDad, I heard a commotion in the living room. Not enough of a commotion to distract me but enough to take notice of.
"Momma...I can hold my airplane, can't I? Brothers said do not touch the tree but I can hold mine, right. I'm not a bad boy"

The words "bad boy" caught my ear. And I looked up to discover the littlest one holding his ornament for this year: a C140 flown by Santa and a reindeer with other reindeer pushing cargo of presents out the rear door.
It wasn't a glass ornament but still delicate.

For a moment I struggled to think of the the 'right" thing to do.

"You can hold it if you ask first, but Christmas ornaments belong on the tree. Can you hold it carefully until I can put it back on the tree?

"Oh yes, I can be careful. I'm still a good boy right?"

"Of course you are. Just be a careful boy too."

I'm not sure where he got this idea of being a good/bad boy. It's not something we ever say in this house. I am careful to say that actions are bad but not people.
But somehow he picked it up and in the middle of his tiny three-year-old tirades he will yell out in toddler rage, "You a BAD Momma."
Yeah...I can be, but I'm trying to be better.

Christmas in the zoo

Excuse the red-eye. I'm not working on my normal computer so no adjustments have been made.
Here's the zoo...in all their glorious personalities. Take notice of poor Mango. Max bolted before the first picture could be taken.

What did you expect...this?

Not hardly.
I'll save you from the really precious snotty nose pics. Thank goodness for Photoshop.
Hope you all had as much fun as we did... and surprisingly, we did have fun.

The epitome of laziness.

Children are all tucked in their beds, One or two have a light-up ring pop tucked in with them. I hope they don't wake with a sticky mass of sugar stuck to their hair.

Free of all but emergency parental responsibilities, I am attempting to set up ZooDad's Harrier computer for my use while he is gone. My trusty laptop has lost all power. Eventually, I'll have the hard drive removed and placed in an external case so I can plug it into the Harrier's multi-USB port thingy. I'm surprisingly calm about this change in computers. I think it's because I can check email with minimal aggravation. (Upon start up, Outlook searches for a .pst file that is no longer available and expresses shock over not finding the needed file. It's a minor issue in the grand scheme of things.)

Anyway, as I sat in the dark dining room/school room I realized that I could not make out the keyboard well enough to fine the keys "USAA" and then realized than even if I found those three keys...I wouldn't be able to find the ones needed to type in my username, password, and PIN.
So I resigned to get up and turn on the light.
(sigh)
Once again, I am foiled by my young attractive Middle school typing teacher. Had she been more interested in teaching the whole class and less interested in flirting with 13-year-old boys, I could have sat in the dark for hours.

It may be time for me to break out the SpongeBob typing program.

I hope you've enjoyed tonight's foray into my head.

The proverbial straw

Over the past few weeks I have had a lot of trouble with my cell phone. Now I know that in the grand scheme of things, having a cell phone is a luxury.
But for me, it is my lifeline.
Because we are gone from home so much, we need that phone for safety and even more important...for calls from ZooDad.
I can handle having him gone if I can hear from him every few days.

Well, I replaced the phone a week ago and since then the replacement phone has killed three batteries. Last night I found that it was dead once again and wouldn't charge.

It was my final straw.

I cried.
How was I supposed to drive out to the boonies, at night, on Christmas with four children in the van and no phone for emergencies.
What if I got a flat?
There are sections of miles with no houses or farms. It could be hours before someone drove by.
Plus, how would ZooDad call me? His long distance connections are sporadic at best. And the lines to his Mom's house are hard to get connected to.

The last thing I wanted to do on Christmas Eve was go BACK to the Alltel store. I had plans for cookies and treats and playing with the boys. Not waiting for hours with holiday shoppers.
I cried for hours. I've been so busy just handling the big stuff that the tiny stuff just kicks me out. How silly to be so upset about a cell phone but there I was.
Finally at 4 am, I gave up the worrying and went to sleep.

ZooDad insisted that I not travel without a phone. "Wait until Tuesday. My family will understand. If they don't, they should be ashamed of themselves."

But I decided to try.

When I arrived at the Alltel store, the place was empty of customers but a whole flock arrive behind me.
Thankfully, I was already being taken care of.
Within half an hour, I was out the door with a new phone and battery.
No charge.
Pray that it works for at least four days.

Conversation with the guy working at The Game Stop at 12:30 pm, two days before Christmas

Imagine two very long lines. People all waiting to buy mulitple video games. I had one in hand and had pre-ordered another when the guy at the register realizes that the credit card authorization is down. Down as in not working at all. Down as in...tried to call stuff in over the phone and even that didn't work. Then as the poor guy then realizes that this also includes check authorization is down.
It was a look of total panic.

"Um......," starts the poor guy who is a total loss of what to do. "Do you have cash?"

I replied, "Yeah...I do. It's ok. It sure sucks to be you though."

Big smile from me. Nervous smile and look of slight nausea from the guy behind the counter.

Him: "Thanks for being so cooperative. I'm sorry about the inconveince."

I felt sorry for the three guys in there. I hope they got everything all squared away. I was just glad to procure Super Mario DS for the oldest son and to pre-order the new Zelda game.
That was my second to last Christmas item. At 9 pm, I finished my last item: Sis's new blue lace socks. Check them out.

Just to tide you over

Smile...

and the world smiles with you.
Act like a grumpy witch and your kids go hide upstairs and play game cube with the door closed.


Here's my Smiling littlest one. He's wearing a giant potato head smile. His rel grin is only slightly smaller than this one.

Right now the smiling terror is conked out on the floor and sleeping off too much milk and cookies. I'm waiting as long as possible to wake him.
Tonight, we are going to see Santa, roast marshmallows, take a hay ride through a Christmas light display. My mom and sister are coming along for crowd (my own person crowd) control.
Little smiling boy has taken to running off at the worst possible moment.

Pictures to come later. We may need to bring the big grin to meet Mr. Claus. how much do you want to bet that it would be the only smile in the picture.
(wink)

A man of few words.

ZooDad is not known to be a wordy sort of fellow. He's never going to be accused of penning Stephen King-esque rambling paragraphs.

As far as he is concerned, the written word is best when you use as few words as possible. (He has an 8-year-old son following in his footsteps. Our 10-year-old is more akin to his mother's style. If two words will convey the meaning...then 10 more will just add some good stuff to the story.)

This brevity of word leads to some very interesting emails.
"Pictures from today" assumes that one only needs to know when the pictures when taken and not when, who, and what.
"Me at the 9mm range-I qualified." Short and sweet and gives more detail than usual.
"Not sure if I sent you this or not" sounds like spam but usually means a picture he forgot about.
"Today's helo ride" again all the info that I can know about.
"Keep this. Save it. Print it out. This is as good as money." Wow...down right Shakespearean, if the Bard were writing Spam. I printed it out and filed it away. I was forced to by the persuasive language.
and one of my favorite..."I took this picture of camels." Wow....camels. No clue where or why but there they are.

Today's message: "I'm about to fill out this form." Attached was the Application for Active Duty. Hmmm...I guess he's more serious about staying in than he let on.
We had discussed it prior to him departing the country but I had expected that we would chat a bit more about the subject.
It's not a surprise just surprising to see such a topic as a one sentence email.

I emailed back, "Ok, need help?"
It's my failed attempt at being a smart ass. The man won't even notice.

Well I did it

I did the radio stint.
It turned out to be two different radio stations at the hospital.

The first one wasn't that great.
It was a recorded interview and the DJ guy wanted a sob story. But I don't have a sob story. I just have great kids who are doing well.
I can't cry and tell how worried I was because...a. I had lots of support so I wasn't ever distraught and b. I'm not the type to pimp myself or my kids out for a buck.
Well, I'm not willing to place our raw emotions out for public consumption. I can vent (with much self-editing) to an anonymous Internet but not out in my community when people know me. I'm a guarded person.

Anyway, the first DJ guy seemed less than impressed with me.
It didn't hurt my feelings any because I just wasn't willing to relive those first few months after diagnosis. Especially since we have made such progress.
I do wish that I had talked more about the progress the boys have made.

The second DJ guy had some off interview questions for me. He wanted some personal information about Apsergers and in particular to know what tipped us off that something was wrong. So we talked a bit.
Then it was time to interview with his partner.
That one was a live interview. I was so nervous. But this DJ was a complete 180 than the first. He wanted to know the positives of our experiences. How the hospital had helped us in a supportive way. I had more than enough to say about that area.
M and A listened and watched just amazed at the whole process.

All in all...it was fun. It was hard to try to organize my thoughts. I had to think about stuff that I just don't try to dwell on.
I would do again if asked though.

I did something for our community.
If I influenced just one person to contribute, it was worth it.

Jumping in....

and embracing my new title as mother of children on the Autism spectrum.

Now let me just say that I don't ever embrace any label. When I was a mother of a child with Apraxia (still am that) I went to exactly one support group meeting and decided that those people were way too whiny and fatalistic.
After all, my kid was going to learn to talk. Or course he was. Why the heck wouldn't he?
I left that one meeting just shaking my head.

I joined a list-serve and promptly went "no mail" because it was like a national version of the local support group. Lots of grasping at straws. Lots of "Oh my pitiful child."
That is not me.
I know for a fact that there are a whole lot worse things to have than a child who does not speak clearly.
I know how to be very grateful.

That's not to say that I don't pray for my 2 guys daily. That's not to say that I don't work my tail off to get them anything that might give them an advantage. I research. I ponder. I make plans.
But until lately, I never sought out other parents.

The Asperger's diagnosis changed things a little. A long time waiting room mom took me in her arms when I told her the news. "But you kind of knew already. It doesn't change anything except to give you a ticket into the club."

It's not a ticket I ever really wanted. But recently I realised that the ticket might not be to help me and my boys....but to help some other struggling parent. One who had not realised that a diagnosis is not the end of the world. That maybe I could be a person that could say to a parent, "Ok...here's what has worked for us. Yeah, I know the constant talking drives you batty. We have trouble with forming sentences too. Here's what we're doing that has shown some improvement. It does get better....it just takes time."

I have a conference to go to in February about educating children on the Autistic spectrum. I'm attending with a group of moms from our waiting room.

But tomorrow I cross a threshold never crossed before. My own Rubicon.
After being asked for 2 previous years, this year I finally agreed to go help in our hospital's radio fundraiser. The boys and I will go on live broadcast to tell how our therapists have helped out family (Please give money so they can do more.) and how the hospital has made a difference in my children's lives.
I feel kind of silly doing this because I don't think that we're that big of a deal. I mean, we're just a family that have had a little more to deal with than colds but not nearly enough to call attention too.
I mean...my kids are doing great. I know so many others who struggle so much. Mine have had an almost normal life. The play sports. They do well in school. They have friends. They are fun to be around.

Maybe that what parents need to hear.

Now this is funny.

Your Inner Child Is Happy

You see life as simple, and simple is a very good thing.You're cheerful and upbeat, taking everything as it comes.And you decide not to worry, even when things look bad.You figure there's just so many great things to look forward to.

How Is Your Inner Child?

I don't tend to worry. Even when it is a very. big. deal....I still don't really worry. I do plan though. I'm a man on fire when it comes to planning. I have plans a through zed with a exit strategy just in case. I can take everything as it comes because....I have a plan for everything.

All laundry, all the time.

Today started bright and early with a mass of hysterical cleaning.
That can mean only one thing...MIL is coming up to help me.

I dearly love my MIL, I do. But she had a totally different life as an early wife and mother of small children.
Plus it's been a very long time since she's had children around all the time. (We see her only a couple time a month and she's usually all frazzled when she leaves.) She has quite forgotten just how much work it is.
Her "reality" and my "reality" are just two different things.
Anyway, the plan today is for me to go Christmas shopping.
Even though MIL will arrive at 9:30, I'll only have about 4 hours. A has Speech therapy at 11:00 and the whole thing including travel takes a bout two hours. MIL has to leave around 5:00. This would not have been my choice of days to go on a Christmas shopping marathon, but I didn't get to pick the day.

(sigh)
ZooDad snickers at me when I tell him of the day's plans. He has a great grip on reality and his rose colored glasses only work when he looks at me.

One hour to go.... two loads of laundry to fold and I need to vacuum.

Thanks to You for "the Gift"

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not shouting, "I've been saved!"
I'm whispering, "I get lost! That's why I chose this way"

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't speak with human pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble-needing God to be my guide.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak and pray for strength to carry on.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting that I've failed and cannot ever pay the debt.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't think I know it all.
I submit to my confusion asking humbly to be taught.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are far too visible but God believes I'm worth it.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartache which is why I seek His name.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I do not wish to judge.
I have no authority--I only know I'm loved.

Copyright 1988 Carol Wimmer

24 things minus 1

I think I'm missing a "thing."
Jacqui tagged me, Bless her heart. (clenched teeth.)
1. What's your weakness? besides junk food...talking too much
2. Are you an emotional person? Yes and sensitive.
3. Are you conceited? Sometimes with the things I am most comfortable with,
4. Ever felt jealous of a friend? Sadly, yes.
5. What was the last thing you did? Picked up McDonald's for Dinner
6. Who was the last person you ate with? my sons
7. How many times has your page been viewed? Let me see... 12,541 since Feb 2005. Before that I didn't have a counter and no one ever visited me.
8. Last person who called you today? My hubby. He's the only who has called today.
10. Last song you sang? Oh, Holy Night. My favorite carol.
11. Last time you danced? Other than on DDR? Last month at Niece's Birthday party. We like to humiliate her by doing line dances, the chicken dance, and the electric slide.
12. Lost a friendship over something stupid? Yes, but she didn't think "he" was stupid.
13. Last time you felt truly happy? Gosh.. I can tell you when I will feel truly happy again. Mid-April for 2 weeks.
14. Last thing you said out loud? "They should all be on "10!!!!" (Advent calendar war amongst the boys.)
15. Been really depressed before? No...I'm more of a manic person.
16. Faked being sick to miss school? Never had to. My Dad would let me stay home.
17. Current taste? Food: salty; Music: Alternative; Decor: Holiday
18. Do you like the person who previously posted this? Nah...I'm just kidding. Now she's freakin'. LOL.
19. What are you wearing right now? jeans, green "Bah Hum Bug" Shirt.
20. Are you too shy to ask anyone out? Hardly ever. I was too shy to ask DH out
21. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Smile and eye contact
22. Are you mature or immature? totally immature
23. Do you like books? Duh....that would be a yes.
24. Seems to be missing. I'll make one up.
Has life worked out the way you planned it? Nope...I couldn't plan a life so great.

Crouching Tiger, Sleeping Boy

Also could be titled, "The Lion sleeps tonight."

It's early Pajama day here in the Zoo. The littlest boy has decided that all the upcoming plans for Christmas are just too much to handle. Somewhere during Nestor the Long Eared Donkey, he found a blanket and pillow...then nodded off.

He's sleeping about 3 feet from the Christmas tree.

He loves the tree. Every morning, He flips the switches for all the trees in the house. He assigned himself that job.

14 more days to go.

I finally heard from ZooDad. He's been working long hours and lost track of the day. On the one hand, I'm glad he's safe and sound. On the other, I'm worried about the long hours he's working. ZooDad is used to 60 hour weeks...so he'd have to be doing more than that to be worn out.

Almost Famous

Did I ever tell you about my big TV interview?

Oh yes, I made the big time once. (actually twice)
It was back when M, who is now eight years old, was a toddler. We were at our local library for the ubermom story time. I was just a wannabe ubermom at the time. I couldn't compete with the heeled boot wearing moms with their impeccable hair and makeup accessorized by their coordinated clothed children. But buddy...I sure tried.

The evening before my big TV moment, a group of kids had been caught doing some adult style of mischief and the general discussion in the community was, "Where were the parents when all this was going down?"

So the local TV news folks set out to interview the populace...to get the ubermom on the street's opinion of what what going on.

They got me instead. They got me in a turtleneck with a bright light sensitive toddler on her hip and a 4-year-old who seemed to be trying to climb back into the womb to escape the lights, camera, and nosey reporter.
And their question was, "Should parents be responsible for the actions of their minor aged children?" My answer recorded for posterity was, " Sure. If my dog gets loose and bites someone...I'd be held responsible. Why shouldn't I be responsible for the children that I bring into the world."

At that very moment, I knew I was not ever going to be the average soccer ubermom who drops the kids off at the kids off at the elite private school then heads out for a latte', a manicure, and a quick cardio class at the gym.
I was destined for something else.

And they used my little quote.
Yep, they showed it at 5pm, 5:30, and again at 6:oo.
And that's not all.
This particular station did a little blurb every half hour on the local cable channel for Headline News. (Yes, the CNN Headline news.) I was on there too. Every half hour until 6 am.
My Dad got the biggest kick out of it.
Of course, I wasn't actually on Headline News, just our local station breakaway.

But still. It was far more publicity than I had planned on.
Far more than I had dressed for anyway.

That was my second time on TV.
My first time was at a state band competition.
My parents weren't able to take off work to watch but my Dad remembered that it was being broadcast state wide on PBS. He turned on the TV and low and behold...there was me...dancing away and twirling my flag. Camera just on me.
I had no idea. I was concentrating on the dancing and twirling. But at least I was all made up, had good hair and was smiling and enjoying myself.

Which is a whole lot more than I could sat for my second time on TV.
Yep, There's nothing like throwing on clothes, pulling your hair up in a pony tail, rushing to story time, and ending up on the news. That'll make you swear off going to story time for good.
At least it did for me.

Christmas lessons

I was over a Dy's blog and remarking that we too have ditched most of our lessons for the week while we decorate, bake, and clean.

But then I realized...we're still schooling. We're Christmas Unschoolers.
In fact I know I did similar activities when I was a paid government nanny Middle School Teacher so I'm not just making this stuff up.

Today's lessons at the Zoo

1. Writing addresses
Capitalization rules
penmanship
creative writing
More commonly known as "Preparing Christmas Cards."

2. How fuses work
electrical current and how it travels
the visible spectrum
estimating length
ladder safety
explanation of wind chill
fine/gross motor exercises
problem solving
planning and implementing a plan
More commonly known as "Hanging the outside lights."

We also covered various life skills including but not limited too: fluffing Christmas tree branches, how to drape garland, the importance of packing things carefully, placing extension cords so as not to overload outlets and what happens when outlets are overloaded.
I'm trying to raise 4 men that know how to help decorate for the holidays. I think four women will be pleased to have them.

We studied how size can affect sound with various bells. (I used this same lesson when covering sound so I know this one is legit.)
We measured and cooked. (The school calls this Home Economics and they get graded on it.)

We organized, created, and placed items as aesthetically as possible. We critiqued each other's artistic placement and learned how to handle that criticism.

Boys colored, cut and pasted.
And learned that hot glue guns while not glue or guns...are definitely hot.

That's a valuable lesson right there.

edited to add: Boys still dig formal grammar, Singapore Math, and a hour of reading. They consider that "just the basics." They do those without any prompting at all.

Spoiled Rotten

Darling ZooDad usually calls every day. I know I'm spoiled to get that.
Granted it's only a 10 minute call, but it's 1o minutes that I look forward to every day.
On the rare occasion, he misses a day due to missions or other things.

But he's never missed 2 days, until yesterday.
And it looks like he might miss today also.

He hasn't responded to email either.

So I worry.

He can't ever warn me in advance. He's very strict about that and he never mentions details even after the fact.

But I'm still sort of let down that he didn't let me know.

and I'm worried.

Got all excited

My regular chat buddy was on IM.
But she wasn't.
Wah!

This is the person I normally waste an hour with from time to time. We have the same political bent and the same sense of humor.
She is a drama magnet. (She doesn't cause it...it just flocks to her.) and I get such a kick out of teasing her about it.

Her new work schedule sucks...for me anyway. Because she's never online.
Sigh...I'll have to resort to emailing her.

You can not have silly irreverent conversations through email. But, I'll be forced to try.
Not only that, I'll end up dragging a couple of others into the silliness.
and it's all Seanna's fault. (Now your haters will be hitting my blog. LOL)

Oh, and if that wasn't you online today...the girls are logging in on your IM account. I'm so glad I don't have teen-age girls.
No...I'll just be eaten out of house and home with the teen-age boys.
And buying cases of "Oust."

Learning how to be a Daddy

That's what the oldest boy said he was doing.

Saturday, I began dragging the Christmas decorations down from the attic.
I don't do the attic. I'm terrified of the attic. But the 12 boxes of Christmas stuff won't jump down on their own. Nope, someone has to brave the rickety attic ladder and the dark, spidery place and coax those dozen boxes of wintry splendor down to the garage floor.

I had to be the one to do it. I almost completed the mission. Oldest boy helped. He stood at the base of the ladder and took the boxes from me, then stacked them by the garage door.
He never complained once.

I complained though. But before I could finish the job, the muscles in my back and neck gave out entirely. I spent all day Sunday with a heating pad and heavy medication trying in vain to recoup the progress that had been made before my voyage into small cave above the garage.

Today, I had planned to get those last four boxes. The boys' room trees were still up there and I was not about to disappoint the little fellows.

My oldest had other plans.

"I can do it, Mom. I'm strong enough and I'm not scared."

Against my better judgement...I let him.
He proudly, with a bit of fear, climbed the ladder.
He balked when he saw the actual ladder but smiled down to me and said..."It won't be a problem. I can do this. Don't worry about me, Mom."
With great care from him and great worry from me, he manged to bring down all four boxes.
He even carried them into the house.

"I'm practicing. I'm learning how to do the stuff I'll need to do when I'm a Dad. I'll have to know how to get stuff down from the attic. You can't help me forever, Mom."

No, I can't.

The boy is only 2 inches shorter than me now. He's almost as strong. He can carry a 20 pound bag of dog food like it's a bag of bread.

And now, he feel comfortable taking things in and out of the attic.

He's doing all he can to be the young man of the house in his Daddy's absence.

I'm torn.
On the one hand I am so proud of this young man. I'm proud that he has picked up his Daddy's chivalry and strength of character and body.
On the other hand, I wonder where that little boy who clung to my hand has gone off to.

Two of my favorite people: My dear elf Daddy and my oldest son at 10 months old. My the younger become the kind of man the older tried his best to be.

Don't mess with the geeky girl.

Friday, I dropped the boys off at my mom's and then set off for that bastion of geekdom...the computer repair shop.

My precious laptop had stopped charging and that is like the kiss of death for a laptop. No power turns it into a large rectangular paper weight. I had already called the computer guys and they speculated a worst case scenario: the soldered leads for the power supply were knocked loose and the whole thing would need to be shipped back to the manufacturer for an expensive repair. I was hoping for a less complicated problem: faulty power cord.

But let me get there.

I dropped off the boys and then enjoyed the 30 minute drive in the van all by myself. I forgot my iPod so I was doomed to listening to the radio. Let's see, we have 2 Christmas stations, various rap and country stations, talk radio, christian music, an oldies, a top 40, 2 alternative stations, a classic rock.
The afternoon DJ at the classic rock station is a long time friend of mine. I've known Dale since we were in 5th grade. He was my date for my Sorority formal senior year. It's so odd to hear him on the radio and it's a far cry from what his original career was supposed to be. But he seems to really enjoy himself and he's good at it.
Anyway, Dale is playing REO Speedwagon, Journey, Loverboy, 38 Special...songs I know. And I'm rocking out in the van (I have 8 speaker surround sound.) and mentally admonishing Dale every time he announces that he's on 103 Eagle Classic Rock.
Dale...this is not Classic Rock. Classic Rock is NOT 80's music. We are not old enough for our music to be classic rock.
We just aren't. Classic rock is Led Zepllin, or CCR, or anything from the 70's. "Keep on Lovin' You," is NOT classic rock.

As the van is thumping towards the next red light I notice that I'm not the only person stuck in the 80's today. The same music is blaring from the car next to me...a red Iroc-Z with a mullet wearing driver.
Rock on Mullet dude.

Having finally arrived at the computer fix-it store it was now time to play "Freak out the Geeks**."
I explained my threefold problem: lack of power, sticky mouse button, and funky screen.

Geek guys were convinced that it was a solder post issue. I was convinced it was a power cord issue. We were at an impasse.
Can you please test the power cord?

The begrudgingly tested it. No power. Just to prove they truly were that Geek personality, they tested a good power cord. Amazingly it had power. Then they tested both again. Same results.
Shocking.
Then decide to plug my computer in with the new power cord.
It worked.
All were amazed.

Except me. I was vindicated.
Of course, I had to mention that we could have saved half a hour by simply plugging the laptop up to a new cord and testing it that way. (All three geek heads just stared at me.)

Then we moved on to the mouse problem. After I explained to the head geek that I understood that the mouse button did not have to make a clicking noise but that I was more concerned by the missing cause and effect reaction. I click the button and nothing happens. That lack of clicking noise is not the issue.
The solution...air in a can.
Air in a can is the computer geek version of duct tape. It can fix anything.

Finally they started looking at my on again, off again screen issue. It's a minor issue in the grand scheme of things and I already knew it wasn't a fixable issue. At this point I just wanted to annoy the guys.
They pondered, messed (up) some settings, and had a group meeting...then finally announced that is was the LCD going out and advised me that I could eventually hook the laptop up to a screen as a last resort.
Or if needed, they could remove my memory and put it in an external hard drive to access from another computer.
All of which I already knew but I thanked them. I let them know that I just needed the laptop to survive until April when my own Geek would be home visiting and could select a new laptop for me and transfer the files.

Then they all just looked at me. Three young geeky heads just staring at me. I wondered if they were amazed by the fact that I had not only been unfazed by the whole deal but that I had also been correct in diagnosing my power problem
"What are you doing?" the oldest geek finally asked.
"Oh,"I said looking down at my hands, "I'm knitting a pair of socks. They're a Christmas present."
You see, when I came in, there was someone in front of me. Since I hate down time, I pulled out my knitting and had kept knitting through out the whole computer conversation. I had quite forgotten that I was doing it but it was better than just standing there and staring at the guys while they did their thing.

"Those are so cool," the youngest geek piped in. "How can you do that?"
"It's like writing code. Once you learn what each stitch does, it just comes naturally."

Three heads nodded in understanding.
$65 for a new power cord and a can of air.
Then I walked out with laptop that would work and my half knit socks.

I wonder what they thought of me when I cranked up the mini-van and "Sister Christian" started blaring from windows. (Damn Dale...80's rock is not Classic. Geesh.)
Not to mention that I correctly identified the Star Wars ships that were hanging over the workspace.

** Please note that the term "geek" is used in the most loving of ways. I am married to one of the species. I am used to dealing with their brand of single mindedness. It's predictable and I've learned how to gently and sometimes not-so-gently guide them back to more proper mindset.

Yes, they're all mine.

Four children is NOT a lot.
I'm going to say that again.

FOUR is four. It's not a lot. It's not even a sacrifice. In fact, I know it's hard for some people to get their minds around this...but actually, they are an incredible gift. One I seldom feel worthy for. I feel sorry for people who think otherwise. Children are a gift.

Four BOYS are not too many. I am not "worn out" by raising four boys. It doesn't "drive me crazy." I am not "climbing the walls with that many boys in the house."
I am queen in my house. The only girl. It's awesome. If I have a head ache, I have four little boys who are worried for my well being. Four boys who try to pamper me.
And no one ever wants to borrow my shoes. (One of the boys' feet are too big for my shoes anyway.)

Yes, I am currently raising them by myself. That's also not some incredible feat. Thousands of military spouses are doing the same exact thing, all over this great country. Most of them have less family support than I do. Some of them deal with many more issues than I do.
And sadly...some of them will never get their loved ones home.

I'm not doing anything special. I'm just doing it with more than the media sponsored number of children.

Let's not even get into the homeschooling or having children with special needs. That would cause brain explosions amongst certain members of the population.

There is apparently a limit to just how much the "average soccer mom" can handle and I don't want to be that one they point at and whisper about for the rest of the season.
I love the start of a new sport season. It reminds me that ZooDad and I live in an entirely different world for the most part.

Oh...yes...and I still find time to knit. I know, I know....how in the world do I do it all?
Next week I'm wearing my "Super Woman" shirt.
One can only imagine how they would respond to a truly large family.

Lovin' the beta blogger. Have you switched?
Edited to add: I guess it's not the best idea to head off the basketball practice when you are in a right foul mood. I'll make a note of that for next week. Or at least sit next to one of the Crunchy moms.

In a right foul mood

I've overbooked myself today.
I have to return stuff to Fort Discovery.
I have to take the boys children to Homeschool P.E.
I'm supposed to meet with Pensguys to work on our sock projects.
The kids should be educated today.
And the 3rd of the 4 has basketball practice at 5:30.

Plus decorations need to be drug down from the attic and at the very least the advent calendars (yes, plural amounts)
and I need to clean this house a bit.
The hedges must be hedged before we can put up Christmas lights on Saturday and I really need to tackle the large mass of leaves and pine straw that are covering the driveway.

I have too much to do....and now I have one more thing.
I have to take the laptop to the computer fix-it place. The thing won't charge. ARG!!!!
Thankfully, I have ZooDad's trusty IBM compatible steed. Sure it sounds like a Harrier when you turn it on but....at least it has power. As a bonus, the excessive cooling fans keep my toes toasty.

To add to all this, I feel downright cruddy. Due to my parental responsibilities, I can't take any of the pain meds and can only take the muscle relaxants at night. So my neck still aches like crazy. I am getting a bit of motion back though. I am quite thankful to be able to turn my head
even slightly to the left.
Did I mention I got a flu shot on Monday? Yep, the doc had my cornered and I got my first ever flu shot. I don't care what they say. I feel so drug down. I am dead dog tired.
Plus the shot area hurts! Redness and soreness...that's what the brochure warned. I've got that in spades.

Monday, croupy boy S went to the doc too. He got a shot also. His is still bothering him too. Last night he told Nanny about the doctor with that stick that can bite you and then sucks on you. That it was very, very bad.
I hear you buddy.

May your days be merry and bright...and stay away from biting sticks.

The man shares his past...

On the phone today...
Me: I went to the doctor today about my neck pain. He prescribed a pain medication and a muscle relaxant.

ZooDad: Oh good, but make sure you don't drink any alcohol with the muscle relaxants.

Me: (puzzled) OK...but I rarely even drink anymore. I sure wouldn't drink with medication.

ZooDad: I know that it's just that I took a muscle relaxant once and forgot and had a few beers. I woke up in a swimsuit, all covered in mud, and I didn't even take a swimsuit with me.

Me: (giggle, snort) You are such a nut.

ZooDad: No, really. I don't know where I got that swimsuit from. Just ask Mike W. about it.

Me: You had quite a interesting life going on before you met me.

ZooDad: I have quite an interesting life with you.

My dear hubby went to a "party" private school. His parents paid good money for him to act the fool. I waited until college for my parents to pay for me to act like a fool. We're a matched set, ZooDad and I.

ZooMom is able to leap a capital "T" in a single bound. Just don't ask her to look too far left right now.

There's the proof

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The West
Boston
The South
North Central
Philadelphia
The Northeast
The Inland North
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

I have no accent.
Bwaaa...ha...ha...ha...ha (sigh)
That was funny.

Conversations in the Van, part?...I should count these.

Ok, The van seating arrangement has been recently rearranged.
The two oldest are in the middle row and the two youngest are now in the back.
There is a reason why the two youngest are split up in the van. I had forgotten that reason but I sure do remember it now.

The two talk and talk and talk and talk an d fight and talk and talk and giggle and then yell and talk some more.
It is crazy but pretty darn funny sometimes.

Today's insanity.
As Christmas music blares from from the Van radio. (Yes, this is by choice.)
I'm dreaming.....of a white Christmas..... croons Michael Bolton. (Yes, I even had a choice to listen to this Christmas song. We have TWO Christmas radio stations. It's pitiful.)

S: Hey...that guy said Christmas.

A: Yeah....it's a Christmas song.

S: No, it's not!

I'm dreaming.....of a white Christmas..... croons Michael Bolton again.

S: See, he said Christmas again. Did you hear it?

A: It's a Christmas song. He's going to say "Christmas."

S: It's NOT a Christmas song.

A: Yes, it is!

S: NO, it's not!

A: Is too!

S: Nuh-uh. He said Christmas again.

A: IT'S A CHRISTMAS SONG!

S: Nuh-uh.

This continues long enough for Mr. Bolton to end his howling about the virtues of snow. They were then thankfully distracted by Jingle Bell Rock.

I foresee stockings full of coal for those two.
I'm going to have to switch the seating before our trip over the river and through the woods. (And through the cotton fields.)

Can't leave well enough alone

or how Sheila likes to poke the puppy.

I have a hole in one of my teeth. It's a front tooth and it's a small hole.
I've had it for years.
It wasn't from a cavity but instead was from a defect in the enamel that just cracked and fell out.
I've had the silly thing for over 10 years.
It has never bothered me except cosmetically.

A month ago, I went to the dentist and he expressed a concern over the "hole." I gave in and decided to have it filled.

Today was the day.
I hate going to the dentist with the intensity of a million burning stars even though I really love my current dentist. (I let the dentist know too. He never takes it personally.)
I think I would rather be pregnant again than get a needle in the mouth, my tooth drilled out and then filled.
But I went anyway.

The tooth looks great. The filling is not visible at all. The hole is all gone and the whole thing went quickly.

But, I'll be darned, the numbing stuff is wearing off and now my tooth hurts.
The tooth that never bothered me....is now bothering me.

That's what vanity will get you.

Monday wasn't any better

Today, I gave up. I plan to encourage my niece to go ahead and re-enroll her son after Thanksgiving break and not wait until after Christmas.
If anyone ever asks you to homeschool their kid for a year, run away. Even if it's family.

You can not make someone love learning. You can not make a child who is not yours do work that they do not want to do.
Homeschooling is a lifestyle. It's not something that occurs from 8 to 3. It's a 7-day-a-week, every-waking-hour way of raising your children. You just can't turn it off and on.
I knew that before but I really believe it now.

The boys are happy. (The oldest especially. He hates any sort of drama and complaining.) They will miss their cousin around all the time but they are looking froward to a return to the "normal" day and a happier mom.

This a reaffirmed my decision to homeschool my children. I'm not bashing public school when I say this but....I want more than public school can offer my children. No teacher could ever be as invested in my children than I am.
No teacher could be as dedicated as I am to meeting their educational and emotional needs.

I still feel as if I failed the boy. It sure reminds me how difficult Teachers have it.
I don't envy them one bit.

A General Malaise

I'm channeling my inner 19th century heroine. All I need is a corset and some Victorian furniture to set up the mood.

There's nothing wrong with me. There not even anything really wrong that I can put my finger on. (I mean besides all the stuff I normally have going on.)
I just feel a certain grumpiness.

Tomorrow starts a new school week. I'm hoping that this week starts better than last week. Last week, we started out with a "Come to Jesus" conversation with great-nephew and his mom. It culminating with me laying down the law and stating out-right that he either shaped up by Christmas or I was cutting him loose.
I hate to do it but I can not expend more energy on this one child than I expend on all my kids combined. It is not fair and I will not do it.
What I expect: that the boy will work for the next few days then slack off after Thanksgiving. He is lazy. Smart, but lazy. And since my job this year is to get him caught up and able to enter 7th grade. He can do the work, he just chooses not to. The homeschool mom in says, "Yeah, you got a 96 on your English test. That is awesome." However, if I'm in Mrs. 6th grade teacher mode, I have to add, "It's too bad that you didn't finish the previous 4 days of classwork which combined with your other unfinished work gives you a "C" average."
And it's not like I am asking him to do anymore than my children do. In fact, he does far less than J will do as a 6th grader.

We'll see.

What I need is a break. I'll get a few days this week but they are just a break from schooling this extra child. It's not a real break.
I miss my husband so much. We are such a matched set that each of us just flounders when we spend too much time apart.
We re-energize each other.
We entertain each other.
We build up each other.
We comfort each other.
We carry each other's weight.

It's funny but I tend to let things blow over me. I don't seek out the best for myself and don't fight if someone slights me.
But 'dis' my husband and I will never forgive you. Ever.
And in turn, he is my champion. He comes out with sword at the ready to defend me even when I don't really need it.
Together, we are a force to be reckoned with.

Apart....well...we're each just half a person.

Watch what you wish for

My sister is notoriously hard to shop for.
She tends to just buy stuff she wants instead of waiting for gifts.
It's infuriating, especially at Christmas time.

Yesterday, while hanging out at hers and Mom's house, I told my Mom..."I think I'll knit her something. She can't buy that. Maybe I'll make her a nice pair of socks, or a wrap, or something. I wish I knew what she wanted"

Mom agreed that would be a great idea. We could foil her holiday time shopping habit.
She's a crafter and would appreciate a hand knit gift. She would know just how much time was put into it and wouldn't just view a beautiful pair of superwash merino lace socks as "just a pair of striped socks."

But what exactly to knit her. She's pretty picky about clothing items.

Half an hour later, sister comes home from work. As she walked in the door and saw me knitting ZooDad's giant log cabin blanket, she blurted out, "I want a knit sweater."

Mom and I just stared at each other.
My sister never asks for specific items, ever. She's always very vague when asked about gifts. She sure never ever asks anyone to make something for her.
"OK, so what kind of sweater do you want and what kind of yarn." I took the bait.

We spent the next hour looking through her closet and the knitting mags I happened to have in the van.
She doesn't think she's going to actually get a sweater, but she really does want one.

I've already ordered the yarn and picked a pattern.

Now Mom wants me to come up with a gift idea from her.

Crazy Mom

The boys are used to having a mom who....well...is not quite right.

The two middle ones take my word as gospel, even when it's just crazy junk flying out. (They take Daddy's word as semi-gospel. They've learned that he kids most of the time.)

The oldest, however, hovers between "My mom is greatest ever." and "My mom is an embarrassment."
In other words, he's gotten old enough to get the jokes and has discovered that mom is bonafide nut.

As the oldest boy child sat on the couch doing his English work, I sat on the floor folding the ever present mountain of laundry.

To the tune of "All Hail the Chief"

I'm doing laundry.
I'm always doing laundry.
I'll be doing laundry
'til the day that I die.

The boy looked up, snickered, shook his head, and then went right back to diagramming sentences.

He's totally accepted that his mom is a dork.

That was easy

After 10 years, 10 months, and 17 days of changing diapers, I changed my last diaper on Thursday night.

Friday morning, I put underwear on baby S and that was the end of it. No accidents all day. He used the big toilet successfully with no issues at all.
Just for the info, S is 3 years and 4 months old.

We don't really potty train around here.
But I have tried.
I bought into the whole hype.
Cute little potty chairs. (We've had half a dozen.)
All styles and colors of training pants.
Charts, stickers, books, videos.
We did it all with the first boy.
There were tears and tantrums. (On my part) There was weeks of bribing and cajoling. Starting at age 2 and continuing every couple of months for a year.
No success.
Then at age 3 years and 3 months. The oldest child used the potty and within 4 days, he had mastered it with little fanfare.

Because I am stubborn, I repeated the whole process with the second child. Bought new chairs. Bought new underwear. Bought new stickers.
Failed miserably.
Left him alone until he was 3 years and 3 months old, then he used the potty.

For the third one, I changed tactics. After all he was the one who was developmentally delayed. He might not be toilet trained until he was 5, we were advised.
So I left him alone.
At three years and 7 months he figured it out. At day three, he was using the full size toilet away from home.
No potty chairs.
No stickers.
No videos.
No tears.
Just a happy little boy who felt quite empowered.
So when the 4th one reached 3 years and 3 months, I brought it up. He wasn't ready. I waited a month and then just put a pair of rubber covered underwear on him.
And I told him that it was time to use the toilet.
So he did.

I should write a book. It will be a very short one. More like a pamphlet really.

Don't buy the potty chairs with lights and music. Don't buy the pull-ups and bags of candy. Don't buy the videos, books, and dolls.
All you need is: a small bag of the child's favorite candy for the first day, a seat for the big toilet so they don't "fall in," rubber training pants, cool underwear, and your best cheerleader voice.
And then you need to wait.
You wait until they are dry when they wake up in the morning.
You wait until they only need to be changed three times a day.
You wait until they know what the toilet is for and have studied your toileting habits.
You wait until they can dress and undress themselves.
Then you put them in underwear.
Then there is nothing left but the cheer leading.

Be prepared to cheer.

Wham!

I do OK. The days kind of meld together but overall I'm handling being on my own. I do the stuff that I'm supposed to do.
I take care of the boys.
I keep the house reasonable.
I do some fun stuff for me.
I buy groceries.
I take small trips.

I do all the normal stuff.
But I don't ever feel normal.

Then sometimes it hits me. Blindsided by the realization that we have a long time to go.
It's been almost 5 months since ZooDad stopped living at our house. We have at least 44 weeks until he starts living here again.
The thought of that makes my stomach knot up.
44 weeks.
That's 22 pairs of socks I could knit.
And 44 books to read when I'm not knitting.
44 more trips to the grocery store.
132 hours in the waiting room at the hospital
88 hours waiting in the school parking lot
44 more funny papers to miss reading with Daddy
176 gallons of milk to drink

Until I think about it, I'm OK.
But when I do......

And I'm not the only one.
"I'm glad you took the boys to the Aquarium," said a scratchy voice on the phone line. The voice got quieter and sadder, "I wish I could have come too."

Wow, that's a lot of fish.

We took a little trip yesterday to the Georgia Aquarium. I'll write a little more about it later but I wanted to get the pictures posted.
Cow nose sting rays in the touch pond. The also had shovel head sharks in here. The boys were happy to touch the rays but would pull their hands out when the sharks got close.

Here's a small flock of Cow nose rays in the big tank. To give some perspective, the bigger ones are about 2 feet across.

The biggest whale shark. This thing is huge. 25 feet maybe. I shot this from the large window and I just barely got all of him in the frame.

Cool jellyfish shot

Cool shot of the boys looking at the jelly fish. The Medusa's on these were about plate circumference.

Cuttle fish. We watched these changing color for about 15 minutes. This guy is about rabbit size.

Better shot of one of the FOUR whale sharks. Those two big groupers were each about 4 feet long. Those tiny fish were eating size. Guess how those big whale sharks got from Taiwan to Atlanta...UPS of course. No kidding.

Leaf sea dragon. We had a big laugh over the fact that this little creature probably thought he was unseeable. "Ha, ha. I am hidden. You big mammals, you can not see me. I am so well hidden here amongst my sea kelp."

Perspective shot of the big wall. See how big the 'tiny' fish are?

Snow crabs. These things were dog size. The sign said that they could reach car size and live over 100 years. Can you imagine having something big as a car and looking like that crawling up to you underwater. (shudder)

Belugas. There are four females and two males. One of the males, Gasper, is sick and in quarantine.

There's much, much more.
I can't wait to go back. (We'll pack a lunch because the food was way to expensive.)

Plan big...you can always scale down

Penny and I are knitting new socks together. We're having our very own Knitting class on my living room floor. (There is furniture in the room. Penny and I just seem to be floor sitters.)

We have big plans. Very big plans. We are knitting 2 socks on 2 circular needles. And they are toe up socks with a provisional cast on and a short row heel. With some fancy patterning.

All we have is our own general knowledge, our tenacity, some written instructions, a few web site pictures, and total lack of fear.

Fearless knitting.
Don't question whether or not you can do it. Just plan things out the best you can, search out the information you need, and then drive on...full speed ahead. Expect mistakes and make a plan B just in case.Hmmm... also sounds like my plan for homeschooling.

Fearless Learning.
Don't question whether or not you can do it. Just plan things out the best you can, search out the information you need, and then drive on...full speed ahead. Expect mistakes and make a plan B just in case.

I guess I should make this my mission statement. Zoo Full of Boys. Be fearless.

Faith

Faith[feyth] –noun
1.confidence or trust in a person or thing
2.belief that is not based on proof
3.belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion
4.belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.
5.a system of religious belief
6.the obligation of loyalty or fidelity to a person, promise, engagement, etc.
7.the observance of this obligation; fidelity to one's promise, oath, allegiance, etc.
8.Christian Theology. the trust in God and in His promises as made through Christ and the Scriptures by which humans are justified or saved.

I am not a religious person but I am a very spiritual person. I'm not the person who leads prayer and I very seldom discuss God or faith at all. But I do have great faith. My faith is defined by two things.

Oddly enough, a college class was the first impetus that defined my faith. I was a biology major who was forced to take elective classes for my degree. I had managed in the previous 3 years to take elective that had some science background or, at the very least, were interesting to me. But now I was forced to take a "philosophy" type class. I chose a course called "Dialogs of Reason and faith" that was taught by a theologian PhD. I can't even remember the man's name but it turned out to be one of my favorite classes and the only one that has served me daily.
He reasoned that there were four types of people: Faith includes reason, Reason includes faith, Reason excludes faith, and Faith excludes reason.

I determined that, even though I was a scientist at heart and mind, as a Christian...my Faith excluded reason. I believe because I believe. He says He has a reason for all things, so I believe it. He says that we shall have everlasting life, so I believe it.
I don't seek out answers.
I don't seek out proof.
I don't pray for things to happen or not.

Where am I going with all this?

A friend knew of our recent diagnosis and sent me a link to a website for support.
From that website:

If you are the parent of a child with autism, you know the agonizing pain of the shock, grief, distress, and even the hopelessness that can grip your soul. If you are a friend or family member of someone with a child with autism, you may well have spent time trying to comfort or bring clarity to a grieving parent. And in the midst of the dark night, one question burns in our spirits: Where is God?

That perplexed me. I have had many questions as a parent. I have grieved for losses real and imagined. But I have never had the question: Where is God?
Never.
Not once.
Why? Because I believe. I don't have faith in God because he has given me a wonderful husband and four blessed children.
I have faith because I faith. I need no proof, no miracles, no answered prayers.

More than once, I have been asked how I can handle homeschooling the 5 boys with my husband off to war. How do I handle the eight hours of scheduled therapy each week with all the extra home therapy? How do I handle the needs of two special needs children and all the extra stuff we do? How do I do it all?
The answer...I don't.

Most times, I just trust that it will work out. That there is a reason for all things, even if I'm never told what that reason is. I pray to be reminded of that when I forget. I pray that those I love will be reminded. And I, most importantly pray to thank God for His gifts.

In the early 90's, I got an impromptu invitation to hear Maya Angelou speak. She was vibrant woman. The poet Laureate spoke of being a woman, about growing up poor and disrespected, and about rising above all the things that you allow to hold you down.
It was an electrifying 90 minutes.
But the part that has stayed with me it this:
Ms. Angelou told a story of her childhood about a summer spent with an aging patriarch. The young Angelou was hot and miserable and let her hostess know about her discontent.
"You know child," the matriarch replied, "there are people all over God's great Earth that won't be rising this morning. They would give all they ever had for just five more minutes of all your troubles."

I'm reminded of that at therapy each week. It's why I seldom complain about my children's needs. I know for a fact that there are many parents who would gladly trade for my troubles.
I see how blessed I am.

Do I have troubles? Yes. Everyone does. God never promised us a life on Earth without trouble. But I can't get lost in those problems. I can't let them be what defines who I am.
Has He blessed me? Yes, every minute but even if He didn't, I would still have faith.

The Soliders fire back

Oddly enough my dear hubby is quite well educated. But he's stuck in Kuwait so that might make the difference. But he's trying to get to Afghanistan.
Nephew and Nephew-in-law are stuck in Iraq, except they chose to go so that might not fit the "stuck" label.

Goodness, what's a war hating politician to do about all these soldiers who don't consider the current war to be the end of the world.

Just in case you need more info on these great guys you can click to get to a link from the New York Post.

The Whole Gang

The Whole Gang
Originally uploaded by ZooMom.

I'm still playing around. This is a flickr feature and not a Beta Blogger one, so get all excited.

Here's the gang that wen out TOT-ing last night. Well, the gang minus one. One other cousin showed up after this picture.

The tiny Darth Vader was a hit with the parents. He even ran into a Jedi who wanted to duel. J's Black-eyed Pea costume was judged as most original. He got a lot of laughs.
Scroll down to the bottom for my flickr stream. It's just random right now. I still have to figure out use this fancy stuff.

I've emerged from the tunnel on the other side.

I'm think I'm unscathed. We'll see.

Expect Halloween photos later on and an overhaul to the place in the next few days. I've also got a homeschool post simmering away.

Oh...the first bad thing about the new move...I had to save a cookie from Google. I hate cookies.

Oooo.......first good thing. The new spell checks and editing on Beta are ROCKIN"!

I'm biting the bullet.

I'm going to switch to Beta Blogger.

If my little world goes crashing down...I'm gogin to be so pissed. If you're in the South East and you hear a mad woman screaming her head off...it just might be me.

Cross your fingers for me.

from the 5 year old

Conversation #1"If you're shy, you should move to Japan.
Do you know what you do in Japan if you want to say hello?"
Puts hands together and bows in Japanese greeting.

"And if you want to say Thank You, you know what you do?"
Puts hands together and bows in Japanese greeting.

"And then if you want to say Goodbye, you just do this."
Puts hands together and bows in Japanese greeting.

So if you don't like to talk to people....go live in Japan.

New socks, New cat.

I've finished a new pair of socks. Check out my knitting blog if you feel the urge to heap praise upon me. (hint, hint)

I finally took pictures of the new cat.
Here's the new girl in the family, Mango

As you can tell, Mango is also a yarn enthusiast. She's partial to Peaches n' Cream cotton. She also an aficionado for legos. Thankfully, both are in great supply here in the Zoo.

Mango will not be thwarted by yarn attempting the escape. All yarn must be hunted down and chewed on. Or at the very least batted about until it poses no threat.

She's a tri-color calico. I love the little tiger stripes she has in her ginger spots. Her tail is entirely orange and black. And lest you get envious and decide to sneak over to the zoo and steal our new littlest member.

If you have a yarn stash, you might want to think twice........

This is the cruel fate of her first ball of yarn today. Poor innocent dishcloth yarn. He had such potential. (I have no idea how she got the yarn wrapped all around the leg like that. She's clever in her torture.)

Been hiding out

The two sick kiddos are feeling a bit better. I still have to chase them both down four times a day to make them use the nebulizer.

We had our follow up appointment with the developmental pediatrician today.
After going over all the information collected and the in office testing, the doctor confirmed what I have known for a few years now.

I have two little boys who just aren't wired for this world.
Oh, they are bright, highly intelligent. On par in all cognitive and academic areas. Gifted in language and spatial reasoning. Highly inquisitive but also well below average in motor skills and articulation.

And diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.



As much as I expected it, it still seems like I'm standing at ground zero in Hiroshima.

Even from Kuwait, ZooDad is my rock. "Sounds a lot like me when you describe it and I managed to have a career, land you for a wife, and have a family. I think the boys will be just fine."

Happy with a job and a family and having faith in God is all I've ever wanted for all my boys.

Hee, hee, hee, hee

That's our Lord giggling at me for complaining. "You want to complain little girl? If you're in the mood for complaining, I can hand you a little more to make it worthwhile."

2 kids, six prescriptions, and a nebulizer later and I have learned my lesson.
I am thankful that one of the children will sit peacefully and breathe in the vapor. I am thankful that I am stronger than the one that won't sit peacefully. I am also thankfully the treatments only take about 15 minutes.
I am thankful that there are antibiotics to treat infections. I am even more thankful that they only have to be given once a day.

I am thankful for health insurance.

I am thankful that the kids can be treated at home.

I am also thankful for a sweet husband who with no prompting at all sends me an email asking, "Would you like something like this for Christmas?"

Are you kidding? Oh heck yes, I would!

Bad Aunt? Bad Mom?

Does burning a copy of my Violent Femmes CD's for soon-to-be 14 year-old great-niece make me a very bad Aunt? Even if I have her mother's permission?

Does including some great Blue grass and some Johnny Cash negate my bad influence?

Also, say a hypothetical mom threw away her 10 year-old son's Kid's Bop 10 CD and replaced it with most of the same songs but sung by the actual artists instead of off-key children and added some other profanity free songs...would that also be bad?

A bad day

Most days, I'm ok.
I can handle it all.
I can handle the house, and the four kids (two of which are sick), and the homeschooling, and the scheduling, and the therapy, and the deployment of my other half.

Today was not one of those days.

Nothing put me over the edge except maybe my own loneliness. I have plenty to do...too much even, but I'm bored. Nothing is particularly bad, but I feel as though my heart is breaking. I have no motivation and if I didn't have 4 kids to take care of, I would curl back into bed and sleep the whole day away.

I miss just being with my husband. I miss watching our favorite shows together. I miss talking to him. I miss his encouragement. I miss not having to worry about him every moment. I miss having his help with all the day to day stuff.
I miss his voice. I miss his face.
I know it's cliche, but this man is really my other half. He really is my best friend.
How do I cope with my husband being gone, when my best friend is gone too?

And I can't even tell him just how much I miss him and how vulnerable I feel right now.
He really doesn't need something else to worry about.

I'm hoping that I have a better grip tomorrow.
So if you happen to be Kuwait and you run into this guy...don't tell him how sad I am. He's got enough going on.