Hat Trick

Day three....therapists sit down to talk with me. They are concerned because M is showing some signs of depression and offer the name of a child psychologist that works with children with Asperger's.

He has been sleeping more. He can't concentrate. He is irritable and weepy. More so that usual. But since M seldom laughs or really smiles anyway...it's hard to tell.

So today, I'll spend time tracking down doctors to get referrals done (Both boys need to see the developmental pediatrician.) and calling Tricare to get approvals made. (And fighting them over a couple of things.)

We're cancelling school so we can get some housework done. Mom is happier when the house is tidy. And also so I can spend some time just reading, cuddling, and playing games. Grammar and Math can wait.

Boys of Almost Spring ----Worst Mom Ever

Baseball has begun.
It wasn't a great as we had hoped.

I'm coaching t-ball with a Dad helping. He's used to the older kids. I'll have a better plan for next week so the boys can get few more basics. It doesn't matter how well you hit if you have no fielding skills.
But they did learn the bases and all the infield positions. Not bad for a bunch of 5 and 6-year old boys.

M has practice the same time as A. So I won't get to see his practices since I'm coaching. This bothers me. M has young coaches again this year. I don't view this as a bad thing. I just wish he had a "Dad" like figure to coach him while his Dad is deployed. He seemed to have fun but I can tell that he's not happy about me not being there.

J's team...well...the coach seems very....um...driven. More so than we're used to.
He also forgot J. He was about to dismiss practice when J finally yelled out that he had not batted.
Instead of apologizing, the coach seemed annoyed. I'm hoping that he was just embarrassed that he missed a child. J was upset by it. No one likes to be forgotten, even with good reason.
He's a good kid. He doesn't cause a scene. He doesn't act up. He does what he is told to do. Sometimes this allows him to blend into the background. Thankfully, he has not decided to "act up" in order to get attention. I encourage him to stay that course. I told him that I would keep an eye on the situation and would intervene if necessary. I'm going to pray that I won't have to.
Of course, to add insult to injury...I didn't see the incident or his batting.

So ...it's a mixed bag. I'm doing triple duty as Mom, Dad, and Coach and feeling like I'm selling all four kids short. I'm just stinky Mom this season. Too many boys and just not enough me.
(sigh) Only 9 more weeks to go.

Earlier in the day, the boys' speech therapist expressed concern about A and M's motor skills. It seems that they have had a serious regression in sensory issues in the 6 weeks they've missed OT. (due to insurance issues...not my choice.) A is covered in bruises. He fell down the stairs twice. He's bumped his head numerous times. And he can't seem to stay seated in his chair at all.
M is twitchy, unable to concentrate, and can not focus his eyes as well as he used to.
I feel guilty that I haven't fought this harder than I have. Tomorrow, I'll finally get the needed paperwork to appeal (again, a delay not caused by me but I still feel bad about it.) and hopefully they will be back in OT by April.

So, two stinky days in a row. M had his Ophthalmologist appointment on Monday. His eye alignment is way off. Way. off. So bad that his doctor cried out about it. (As in, "Oh my gosh....what in the world is going on here?") We go back in 3 months for another re-check. If he's not doing much much better...something will have to be done.
A third surgery could be in the picture. It's been 2 years since his last one which was just on his right eye. His first surgery was on both eyes. Now he's having trouble with his left eye.

Homeschool Cats

Stephanie at One Sixteenth has the same problem we do. What is it about homeschooled cats? Do they have this secret desire to read or are they just high maintenance.

By the way, that's a standard sized table that seats 6 easily. Max the cat is just that big. He's teaching Mango his bad habits. She also likes to sprawl all over the papers.

Not only that, she eat pencils. She prefers Ticonderoga erasers.

In this particular shot, M is explaining why he can't do his spelling assignment. There seems to be a rather large cat in the way.

Nothing really

We're recovering this week.
This noro virus takes a whole lot out of you.

Not much is going on. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway. I spent the evening on the phone with the Dell support people. The first person was a total wash. The second person more than made of for the first person's incompetence. Truly awesome tech support and all around well spent hour.

My stuff for achievement testing is going right along. If things go well, we'll add about 10 more families to testing. That translates into a lower cost for everyone. It's nice that I can provide that service to families that need it.

I've got a new calling brewing in my head. I'm going to let it steep a little while longer until I know for sure. But it involves forming a social and informational group for families with Asperger's Syndrome. In the past 7 days, I have just run into complete strangers who have children with Asperger's. They seemed so happy to meet me and talk about what they were going through. I got the vibe from one particular person that this was the most he had every talked to anyone about his children. It seemed like a load had been lifted from him. The other was just happy that she was not alone and that AS kids could turn out just fine. (Mine have.)
Those were just strangers. I've had several other people that I know get with me about therapy and things to do at home.
It was just a nudge...to have so many encounters in one week. Like maybe this is something I should to pursue. Like I have some need that I could fulfill.
But I'm a stubborn follower. I like to wait until I get a nice clear message a path to follow. It is meant for me to do...I'll know.

The boys are wicked smart. They remind me of that each day and in the most surprising ways. They also show their love for each other and compassion for others. Which to me is even more important than knowledge or intelligence. I don't know how I ended up with such great kids. I think I get as much out support and love out of them as they do out of me.

I'm knitting like a crazy woman. We all dropped by the yarn store to procure new stash and show off my finished socks. The boys happened to wear their handknit socks too and the yarn store ladies were so impressed by the boys love and respect of handknits. The neighbors, the firewood guys, the grocery store bagger, and now the yarn store ladies have all proclaimed the boys to be well behaved and responsible young men that I should be quite proud of.

And I am. How could I not be?
I'm adopting the Dell chick as a sister. She'd fit right in with the clan.

54 Days

Zoodad says that 54 days is almost 4 haircuts.

He'd better be right. I am just so hurt. First, he just up and runs off to fight in some war then he shaves all his hair off.

Can you tell he sent me another picture? He thought it was funny until he thought about how his kids would react. For the record...the 5 year old is a bit scared of this "bald daddy" and wants to make sure that his "real daddy" still has hair.

Men do not do well when they only socialize with each other and do not have family around to keep them on a even keel. This is why "war atrocities" happen.

Watch my back....I'm going in!

I'm tying off a nice little safety line. I'm about to dive into the abyss of homeschool planning.

Yeah...great timing. House work to do. Home repairs and renovatios to do. ITBS applications to mail and deal with. Homeschooling to do. Therapy to do. Insurance companies to battle. Research to do for my big interview.

And what am I doing....trying once again to figure out to best use Homeschool tracker. (insert crazy laugh)

I'm told that it will make my life easier. Nothing short of a maid, a handyman, a yard guy, and a lawyer would make my life easier.

But I guess any measure of less work would actually make my life easier. At least that's what I;m shooting for.

So have any of you used HST? Do you like it? Does it make life easier or does it just create more work?
Any tips? Any shortcuts?
Any advice?
Anyone want to come over and help me clean carpets?

5 out of 5

so much for the lucky one.
Apparently this particular stomach bug has a 48 hour incubation period. I'm glad my firends didn't come over tonight.
But I am worried about the neighbor's kids who came over to play in the yard today.
I don't think it would impress my new neighbors much if I got thier kids sick right when they moved in.
In my defense...I thought my kids were all well and I didn't let the neighbor kids in the house.

I'm hoping my oldest one bounces back as quick as his brothers did and doesn't linger like his poor mom did.
Either way, it's another long night for me.
I can't sleep when the boys are sick.

Plague

As if we don't have enough going on...4 out of 5 inhabitants of the Zoo came down with a quite nasty stomach bug this weekend.
I wish I could say the lucky 1 out of 5 was me...but I did not escape the wrath of this mighty virus.

And as cruel fate always plans it...the kids bounced back much better than I did. So as I lay sick and nearly out of my head...they ran around creating mess and demanding food. Thankfully, my mom and sister happily braved the sickness (They had it last week and were immune.) and came over to take care of the brood.
Today, I have planned massive cleaning and disinfecting until my energy runs out. (which means...not much cleaning or disinfecting.)

Then, ZooDad called. In my feverish and sickened state, I thought I heard him say that he lost a bet and shaved his head. I knew I had to have imagined it because my darling husband would not dare do such a thing 53 days before he was to come home for R&R.

My email inbox prooved that he would indeed dare to do such a thing.
He he was in town...I would kill him.
Thankfully, he's 8 time zones away and out of my reach.

I told him that he'd better will that hair to grow fast.

Cat Napper

Yesterday, I was running errand sans children and realized that I had left some important needed stuff at home. Our neighborhood has two entrances and I took the seldom used (by me) one in. Imagine my shock when I saw our cat, Max, running across the street and then plopping down in some strangers yard.

I know the cat likes to wander around but I had no idea that he was going more than a mile from our house.
So I threw the van into park, right there in the middle of the road and started calling Max to come to me using the ubiquitous "Here kitty, kitty, kitty" call.
He stared at me with the normal "I am not some kitty, kitty, kitty" look, as he usually does. So I walked up to him, picked him up, and carried him to the van. He doesn't like riding in the van so I started petting his feet (He likes that.) to comfort him some.


And I felt something.


I felt something that felt like claws.

This shocked me because Max is declawed.

It took me a second to realize that this cat was not Max.
Whoops!
Talk about embarrassment, I had almost stolen some person's cat.

I replaced the cat-who-was-not-Max back to his sunny spot and quickly headed on home hoping that no one had seen my attempted cat-napping.
When I got to my house, the real Max was waiting on the front porch, totally oblivious to his doppelganger around the corner.



I wish I could say this sort of silliness was an isolated incedient but sadly...it's just one of many craxy thigns I've done.



Oh my gosh...what would I have done with two "Max the cats."

The real Max the cat would not be amused.

Here's his highness of fuzzy fur relaxing in his favorite environment....the boys' school books.

A great Southern Gentleman and Statesman

My husband flew home to our tiny airport one day, several years ago. When I picked him up he told me about this really nice man who was on the flight with them.

A woman was on the plane, traveling with two small children. The children were scared of the plane and both started crying on takeoff. The more she tried to calm them the louder they howled.
The mother was overwhelmed and embarrassed over the noise her children were making and could not get them to quiet down.
Then this older man say down across from her and took one of the children and rocked him while the mother tried to calm down the other child. Eventually, both children stopped crying...and the man played with both of them throughout the whole flight. This was the coach section...not first class. My husband was so impressed with the aura that this unknown man gave off. He seemed to emanate kindness and joy.

Now my husband is not the type of person to comment on this sort of thing so I took his story to heart. Then he pointed out the man to me...he man who was waiting patiently to pick up his luggage and talking to the other people from his flight.

The look on my husband's face when I told him that was Charlie Norwood, our federal representative...it was priceless.

So while a certain senator is pushing for her own military plane matching the size of the POTUS...so she can fly her family across the country in style, Rep. Charlie Norwood was the kind of man who happily took a puddle jumper flight home in coach.
I'm not saying that there is only one greedy politician in DC, because I know that greed is rampant on both sides of the aisle but I will say that we have lost one of the few truly great politicians.

Happy Valentine's Day...

from the luckiest mom in the world.

There are some great advantages of being mom only to boys. Sure it gets a little stinky. It's noisy too. It's busy and messy...but I'm queen of the house and their Daddy has set a good example.

This morning, as a rare treat, I slept in until 8 am. Right as I was about to get up, my 8 year old, peeked in my door.
"Don't get up Momma," M told me with a sneaky little smile, "We're cooking you breakfast."
I found this when I got permission to get up.
My morning paper, two origami hearts, a big glass of milk, and if you look closely at the bread "I Heart U Mom" carved in the butter.
The two dozen roses that ZooDad sent yesterday, pale in comparison.
Later I received another origami heart from M. He folded and colored it himself. He has fine motor issues but he was determined to fold a heart for me. It took him almost an hour to get one that he was satisfied with. His older brother sat with him and helped him until they got it just right.
A, who is 5, made a card for me. He wrote the word love and then surrounded it with red hearts and birds...."Love is in the air" he told me, quite proud of his pun. Inside was a drawing of me planting flowers.
To top it all off, my oldest (age 11) wrote a poem for me. The kid is amazing.

Mom's Poem

Roses are red.

Daisies are yellow.

To have you for a Mom

I'm one lucky fellow.

Violets are blue.

Cherries are red.

You take care of me

and keep me well fed.

Grass is green.

The sky is blue.

You're the best Mom (in history)

and I love you.

Tangerines are orange.

Hear me say.

Relax a bit

It's Valentine's Day.

Hallmark couldn't have made something better.
They are going to make four women very happy some day.

2 out of 560,000

560,000 is a really big number.
That's how many children in the US that have been diagnosed as having some form of Autism
That averages out to 1 out of ever 150 children. That's a lot of kids.
And that's just the one who have already been diagnosed. I can't even imagine how many others are not diagnosed. How many parents who are where we were with children who has issues but no explanation of what those issues actually were.
How many parents who knew something was not quite right but were in denial or afraid of a diagnosis.

The number could skyrocket in the next few years. And what is our society going to do about this influx of Autism spectrum children? What will insurance do? What will the educational system do?

If my past week was any indicator...the answer is ...ignore it.

The boys have been out of OT for two weeks now due to an insurance snafu. They denied them without even reading the request for service. They admit it was a mistake but I'll "just have to appeal the decisions in order to rectify the situation." That translates to at least two more weeks without therapy.

At the Asperger Conference last week...which ran from 9 am to 4 pm...most of the educators left after our 2pm break and the rest left between 2:30 and 3:15 while the speaker was covering the information that they really needed to hear the most.
And the school feels that they can educate my child better than I can.
Shoot...I know more about educating children with Asperger's, speech disorders, Sensory Integration Disorder, and motor planning issues than anybody at the school that my children should be enrolled.
Yeah, right...turn my kid over to the people who were rude enough to walk out on a speaker because their "work day" was over.

For me the issue is finding out how to treat and teach my kids. I have no doubts that someday my sons will be productive citizens. I just have to find the way to get there. I'm self-centered on this topic. I don't care about what causes this because that box has already been opened for for our family. Finding out what caused it, won't make it go away. In my heart and mind, I think it's more of genetic issue than a environmental one. (Deep in my heart, I wonder what the rate of Autism in Desert Storm Veterans is since we have a few other "birth defects" that are unheard of in our family history.)

But I am still working on my quest to make people more aware. Remember when we did the radio-thon for our children's hospital?
Well, the coordinator called and asked if they could feature us on the TV version. They chose 4 to 5 families to feature and this year they want to spotlight Asperger's and Sensory Integration Disorder. They plan to film both boys at therapy and playing baseball and to interview me and the boys' therapists and doctors.
The idea is to get the word out that these children can make incredible progress if you just start therapy...and start it as early as possible.
So maybe I am focused on more than just my own kids. I'm worried for the ones who haven't been counted yet.

More of this in the future. It's a topic so close and painful for me that I can't think about it for long. Weepy mom are not the best advocates for their kids.

Shhhh....I'm not here.

I'm supposed to be baking a cake. Instead I am playing on the new laptop.

She's fabulous. I'm so giddy that I've been singing various late 80's/early 90's rap music. I rarely delve into that part of my brain. I'm back to 17 year-old kind of silliness.

Good news: Everything is installed and I can get online.
Bad news: I had to reset the router and now it's "unprotected." Monday's "Long Distance New Computer set up Lesson" from Zoodad should cover that little detail.

So I am supposed to be making yet another cake. Third Saturday in a row that I've done this.
Oh, that's right..I haven't posted pictures of that pink thing my great-niece asked for. Be warned...it's girly-girly.

Just in case you want a better look, you can click on the pic for a bigger size. She wanted a dress cake. A pink dress cake with butterflies. You can't see the little purple flower border from this shot.Oh yes...there is all the girly-ness. Birthday girl was pleased. Girly nieces were thrilled. Even the boys and the non-girly niece admitted to liking it.

Now I have to bake another Army cake. I'm such a glutton for punishment. If you see me online before 6pm tomorrow...kick my tail-end.

(for the super nosey...I painted those kitchen cabinets this summer.)

OH my..........WOW!!!!

The UPS lady just started laughing at me. She said that she wished she had a camera.

Yep....my new computer has arrived...5 days early.
(I'm doing the Ed Lover dance. From Yo! MTV Raps for those not in the know. Those in the know now have the tune stuck in their heads. Sorry!)

It's beautiful. It's lighter than my old laptop too,
Oh....I'm so excited.

Now have to drag out all the software and get that puppy humming. it's too bad I have so much to do this weekend. The new Dell and I won't have time to seriously bond until Sunday night.
ZooDad will be so jealous when he calls tomorrow.
He was hoping to live vicariously through me.
The boys, especially A and M, will be glad to have their computer back.
(Actually, A is talking as a type this. He wants a new 'capooter' because they can't play Age of Empires III on this one and Zoo Tycoon II is slow on here. And he wants more games. Specifically "every game that's not Age of Empires, Age of Mythology, Zoo Tycoon and that roller coaster game because we already have those." He sounds a lot like his Daddy.)

Next time y'all "see" me....I'll be on my Dell, Dudes.
Hey...email me because I won't have any one's email addresses. ZooDad isn't here to move the Outlook file for me.


Oh...and I'm still sick. So I'm going to germ up the new computer.

Don't take the Sud@fed

I have a cold.
No big deal.
Noramlly I wouldn't take anything but I have a busy weekend planned. Tomorrow is the ground level mmeting for a new secular support group. Saturday, is Upward basketball celebration and I have to bake a cake and get all ready for the second attempt at the oldest child's birthday party on Sunday.
So I need to not be sick.

I bought some Sud@fed">Sud@fed
Now, it's been years since I last took Sud@fed. I might take some Tylen0l once a month or so...but never anything else.
but today I broke down and took the cold medicine.

At 8 pm tonight,I was wiped out. now, it's 9:30 and I am wondering what int he world is wrong with me.

Oooohhhhhhh....stupid medicine. Bad choice. I can breathe but I feel like crud.
What a totally wasted evening.
I had planned to put together a post on Autism. (1 out of 150 kids is the new rate.) But i can't even form a coherent sentence. (Thank goodness for the spell check on blogger.)

I'm going to bed and sleep it off.
At least I can breathe.

Humming Cake's version of "I will Survive."

Since I doubt that anyone who actually listens to Cake (the band, not the desert.) would be visiting my blog...you can watch the video here. It's an awesome cover of the Disco classic.

Woo...that was off topic.

Anyway. All is humming along rather well here in the zoo.
The shower door is installed. Yep. I did it. I am amazing. My mother-in-law even told me so. (She's coming up today to spend a couple of evenings but that's another post.)
The new shower door is completely clear. This bothers the boys a bit. The previous door was frosted.
The 8-yo keeps asking if I'm going to also put up a shower curtain.
As I stood in the shower caulking the inside rails (fully clothed), 5-yo A said, "Ummmmm....Mom? I can see you."
They are a little weirded out by this clear aspect. Just a bit.

Obviously the boys' computer is still working. It's still hit or miss on whether it will start up. I got lucky today. But, good news, the new computer is being created by the Dudes at Dell at this very moment.
Yes-siree...they are working away on it and with all hope, it'll be in my hot little hands on Valentine's day.
ZooDad "made" a souped system for me. My computer geek brother and nephew approve of all the specs. They plan to fiddle around with my old laptop to see if we can get it working again and to move the hard drive to some sort of external box so I can rescue all my files from it.

Let's see, what else
School is going great. I have no changes planned for next year. (Homeschoolers all around the country are fainting away from shock.) I admit it. I like everything we do and I finally have just about everything worked out. I did briefly entertain the thought of doing all my weekly plans on the computer but...since I don't carry a printer around with me...I decided to stick with my hand written plans.
All the curricula choices are working out. The new stuff we started this year have been good choices. The old stuff that we've been using is still working out just fine.
I do plan to do a little research into other history programs. (mainly The Core Knowledge program) but I don't really anticipate a switch.

Oh..M has finally decided that he like to read. He's officially a 2nd grader by school standards due to a late birthday but he does 3rd grade here at home. He can read well but he doesn't like to. I snagged a book for him from the school library..."Frindle." He loved it.

Anyway, all the school library books have AR stickers on them. This one's sticker happened to be orange which according to the school chart is grade 5.0-5.5. The librarian was shocked that the "second grader" read it. Had he been a student checking out that book for himself...she would have steered him towards another selection.
Can you believe that?!?!
He loved that book.
It may turn out to be the book that inspired him to love reading....and he would have missed it had he been a school student. He wouldn't have been old enough to read it and by the time he was "old enough" he probably wouldn't have been interested.
But thankfully, I get to pick out books for the boys.
And I don't worry about AR points or reading levels or passing tests.

I just want them to read and love reading.

I will Survive....hey,hey. Great song. Even better cover.

If I'm not "here" you'll know why

I've broken 2 computers since Zoodad left.
Two computers and the one I'm working on is a bit "iffy." It was non-compliant yesterday but it seems to be trucking along right now. Of course, I expect that to change at any moment.

It's the biggest time of the year for me, computer wise. February is when I kick off all my paperwork for standardized testing. I coordinate that for a local support group. It's a lot of paperwork.
Lots
of
Paperwork.

Which is normally not a problem. I have cool spreadsheets that calculate payments and cost and what levels need to be ordered and how much money is needed and all runs surprisingly well.

Except my files were on the dead laptop and Zoodad's computer bit the dust Tuesday night.

Panic.

Then this morning, the boys' computer ( my third and final option) was not booting up.

(deep breath)

To take my mind off my paperwork doom, I went back to installing the shower door. that was not the best plan.
I had a small breakdown curled up in my shower stall with a screwdriver in one hand and a hammer in the other. I did what i normally do when I just can't stand it anymore...I had a long vent session with God.
Very tolerant being.

I pray in a very unusual way. I'm not reverent and I seldom ask for anything. My prayers are usually those of thanksgiving and stating the obvious. At the very most I pray for acceptance of God's will and maybe a little sign that that he's there. Just imagine how you'd cry to your Daddy as an adult. you don't want to complain and you know he can't fix it..but you just need the comfort.
It was a long, emotional conversation. I went through a whole list of things that were just getting me down.
And I felt better.
the I thanked him for all I did have. That I had three computers to break. That I had a shower stall in the first place and hot water. That I had good doctors and therapist for the kids. That ZooDad and my nephew-in-law were safe. And for all the other things, major and minor, that were good in my life.
Then I apologized for forgetting all that stuff and for letting the unimportant stuff get to me and also for forgetting that I could lay it all on Him anytime.

I told you, I pray in a very strange way.

When I was all done, I went back to my tasks. Guess what happened? The screw that was driving me crazy, went right into place. Finishing the shower door now is just a matter of buying a file to make sure the metal that I cut is smooth. Easy stuff.

ZooDad called and let me know that he'd picked out a new laptop. He planned to order it as my birthday/anniversary present but wanted to make sure I didn't need one sooner than two weeks out.
So I tried the boys' computer one last time...it booted up and connected online without a hitch.
I remembered that I had about 5 minutes of battery life on my laptop, so I quickly used those precious minutes to transfer as many files as possible onto my ipod.
Including my test file.

Then...because I wasn't already amazed enough...the boys' occupational therapist called and said that Tricare had re-approved the stuff they had cancelled. This means that I won't have to worry about that $1200 bill I was expecting. We still have to fight for future therapy but I have faith that will work out.
Why wouldn't it?

But just in case, I printed out all my test stuff. I mean, God helps those who help themselves. There's no sense in pushing the envelope. Take advantage of the blessing.

If I'm gone for a few weeks...you'll know why. I think even the Lord draws the line at fixing Microsoft errors.

Growing up nicely

Here's my oldest one. I think he's turning into such a handsome young man. Eleven years old now. (sigh) I don't know how that happened.

Let me tell you how great he is.

You see that big cake. That was the cake I made for his big birthday party. The one that was supposed to take place yesterday.

Sunday morning, the baby came down stairs complaining that his stomach hurt. Biggest brother knew what that meant right away.

I started making phone calls to reschedule the party. My new pre-teen was disappointed but he was more worried about his baby brother. He spent his day entertaining his little brother and fussing over him.

He wasn't bitter about the party at all. In fact, his spin doctor-ed it by saying that he'd get two big birthday cakes now.

The poor little guy was sick all day. He laid on the floor with a blanket and pillow until about 3 pm when finally tried to eat and drink. (Thank goodness his stomach finally settled.)

Today however, his eyes started running and getting all cruddy. His nose was a mess and after breakfast he announced, "My ear hurts."

Off to the doc we went and all suspicions were confirmed.

we may be back tomorrow because the oldest one is also complaining of ear pain. he has also picked up his baby brother's cough.

And me...I'm a bit punky too. Low grade fever and tired. I skipped our last basketball practice tonight and I never miss practice. (the oldest one suggested we stay home to keep our germs contained and rest a bit.)

Boy, we've had a sickly winter but we are learning compassion for others, viral containment, healthy practices, and the limits of the power of Lysol.

I would love to write all about my wonderful oldest boy but I just lack the thought process this evening. However, I wanted to document how wonderful a person he is.

It's against his nature to hurt others. He's always willing to make a sacrifice and he is always thankful of any good that comes his way. He never brags. If he scored 12 points on the court, he's prouder that his brother scored just one.

He's wicked smart.

He loves to learn. he does his work for the joy of completing it.

He does Rod and Staff English 5 with no help from me. He has such a gift for language that it seems a waste of time. No, that's not right. The material is new for him. He just grasps it so effortlessly. The difference between a noun of direct address and an appositive is so apparent to him that all the review seems like overkill. But he'll work through an entire lesson, on his own, writing out everything...with no complaints what-so-ever. Oddly enough, he enjoys it.Throw in a worksheet on diagramming and he's thrilled.

To start shaping his growing mind, I gave him The Giver to read a last week. He finished it in a few days. We talked about that dystopian society and the dangers of over-protecting people. he decided that we need to experience the bad to appreciate the good.

The boy reads like crazy. It's all I can do to keep the boy in decent literature. If it weren't for the fact that he is 4 inches taller than most of his age-mates and fairly good at sports...he'd be a total nerd.

He does sometimes loose his patience but that's my fault and usually a direct result from a situation that I have caused.

He apologizes and he accepts apologies.

He's thankful and he's a gentleman.

He's just a great young man.

I know every parent says that their kid is wonderful. I know that I'm biased but I am so amazed at what Zoodad and I have gotten in this kid. We lucked out for sure.

I bribe my children.

There I said it. I do. I bribe them. I think a lot of parents bribe their children. Some just do it with better results.

I bribe mine. It's just one of the tools in my parenting arsenal. It's the big gun.

M, my eight year old, has Asperger's Syndrome. I would take you a while to realize that there is something different about him but it is there.
This is his third year playing Upward basketball and it's evident that he's not the star player of the team. But he enjoys it and he tries his best.

Today I decided that with only 2 games left he needed to try a little harder and it was my job to push him. In three seasons of playing, he has never scored a goal. Not once.
I told him if he scored a goal today...I would buy him a game for his DS.

That made a world of difference. He took more shots in this one game than he had taken all season. He got rebounds. He fought for the ball. And i also noticed that his team mates were passing to him....a lot. (He later confided that he told them about our deal. They wanted him to get his game.)
But every shot was blocked or just didn't go in.

Then he got fouled in the last period.
2 shots.

The first shot rolled around on the inside of the rim. Around and around....then out.

The second shot.......


Nothing but net.
Nothing but grinning too.

I'm not sure which made him happier.
Getting the game.
Making the shot.
Or having all his team mates congratulating him and telling him that he played a good game...and him knowing that he really did.

Yeah, I bribe my children.

In which Sheila goes nuts and pretty much destroys her bathroom

Ok...backstory.
When we bought this house, I hated the master bathroom.
It's a bona fide mid-80's bathroom complete with hanging ball lights, too many mirrors, carpet, and some fugly original wall paper.
For eight years I have just tolerated it. I never had the motivation to get started on it. And I had no idea of what to do with the mirrors.
You see, I'm a bit superstitious.
I don't care about black cats, since I live with one. I'll walk under ladders. I'll even open an umbrella in the house.
But I freak if a bird flies in.
I throw salt over my shoulder.
and I will not break a mirror on purpose.
(sigh)
Back to the bathroom.
Some time ago...Zoodad broke off the toilet paper hanger...accidentally. This made a large wallpaper free hole in the wall.

AS leaking skylight ruined the ceiling and replacing the skylight ruined the inside moulding around it.

Time and gravity broke the shower door.

So I got this hair to start re-doing the bathroom. Things need to be done.
I ordered a new door for the shower and then ripped off the old one.

Let's just say that ripping off the old one was monumentally easier than installing the new one. So the new one, while in the bathroom, is not installed and won't be until after this weekend.

But I did change the broken blind. Removing the blind removed some wallpaper. It just came off. (Not the blind. The blind removal took longer than the shower door removal.)
I was impressed and bit concerned about the wallpaper just coming off.

So I did what any woman who hates her bath room wall paper would do.

I started pulling it off.

It's only easy to pull off in some areas so the job is no where near done.

Then I started dismantling the light fixtures because I couldn't do any more wall paper without a steamer or glue remover. Then I moved on to the carpet and towel racks.

So that's where I stand.

No shower door.
Half my walls exposed.
Light fixtures exposed.
Towel racks partially removed.
Carpet pulled up in one area.
and ceiling "stuff" falling from the ceilings.
Plus three gigantic mirrors to deal with.

I am soooooo glad Zoodad is not around.

Because he shared it with me, I'm sharing it with you.

Zoodad says "They all have that attitude about them."
I'm sure that speaks volumes.

Other ZooDad snarkiness:
"I think that's inevitable."
said when I asked him to bring home some desert sand on his mid tour leave.

"It's in Arabic but it's odd that it's here at all."
ZooDad on the reruns of Friends episode on his local TV.

"Ok, I'm happy that I'm not going anywhere. Oh now, I'm screwed. I might as well start packing."
conversation about his desire to go out on missions and my reluctance about him going.

Me: "He asked if all animals started out that way and I said yes."
ZooDad: "Well...I guess he knows. Check that block."
Our conversation after learning that our oldest watched the Discovery Channel show "In the Womb" which, unbeknownst to me, started at "the act" and didn't go into development until about 30 minutes into the show.

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.