Dog gone emotions

Quite literally. Duke is gone. My buddy is gone. The one thing that loved me unconditionally and listened to me more than my husband or children is gone. I will miss him terribly, but his life goes on with his new family and ours goes on without him as it did before.

Duke is a great dog, a great big dog in fact. He was nearly perfect in every way...well except for his puking and chewing and jumping and... well mainly his anxiety was the issue. And his anxiety and uncertainty around Bubba who is full of anxiety and impulsivity just wasn't mixing all too well.

Bubba had taken a liking to squeezing Duke's head and Duke finally had enough and started to growl softly. Then the growl turned into Duke biting himself.

The local dog whisperer came, took one look at our situation, and told us that Duke was a wonderful dog but our home was not the best home for him. I knew he was going to say that exact thing, but it was still hard to hear, and even harder to accept.

So it has been over a month or two since that dreadful day, but we finally found a family that seems perfect for Duke. A place where he can become the dog he deserves to be...part of a family, walked every day, loved every day, and much less anxiety.

His new daddy picked him up a few moments ago. I did not cry, but I know it will come with the realization that big, slobbery, messy, chew-up-all-of-my-bras Duke is truly, permanently gone from our lives.

Moosie adamantly pointed to the floor when I told him that Duke was going bye bye to live with a new family. "NO! No." He firmly said while shaking his head and finger. Bubba just asked why and then went on to talk about his new Godzilla toy.

For me the hardest part will be losing those moments where Moosie would roll around on Duke and make those sweet babbling, pre-language sounds that we never hear otherwise.

And the happy-go-lucky way Bubba would start calling Duke with this high-pitched squeal..."Dooooooker!" every morning and every day when he got home from school.

And the way Hubby would love on the dog and talk to Duke in a soft, childlike voice when he thought no one was looking.

And I'll miss the late nights when I could snuggle with Duke when I couldn't sleep and he would lay his big head and paws on my lap and just give me the quiet acceptance I needed to still my mind.

Ok, the tears are coming now.

Happy Dance

The "Happy Dance" is what we call Moosie's out-of-body excitement jig. If he's standing, his legs are kicking and stomping, his arms are a twitching and twirling, and he's got the "mascara face" going. When he's sitting, the only difference is his little heels hit the floor a million times a minute and it sounds like he's playing the drums.

Some in the autism world call this "stimming," some call it "self-regulation," and we call it the "happy dance." We've called it the happy dance since before Moosie turned one, before he was even in early intervention or had a single label. Wait, not true, he had the "failure to thrive" label to try and overcome. Anyhow, I think Moosie's been kicking those legs since the day they formed in the womb.

In any case, now whenever we go anywhere, people know when Moosie is excited. He looks like a little wind-up toy that was just released from a tight grasp. It makes everyone smile, and I used to smile too.

But now, instead I think, "When will this stop being cute? When will people no longer find this so innocent? When will others find this distracting and intrusive?"

I know the answers to my own questions...it stops being the "happy dance" when it is no longer age appropriate. I know this because of the many things that Bubba does that are no longer OK just because he is chronologically another year older.

This saddens me because Moosie will still be the same Moosie, but the expectations surrounding him will change. Not that expectations can't grow and change, but why does expressing excitement, release, frustration, and pain have to be confined to such strict limits?

I wonder how Moosie will react once his Happy Dance is treated as more of a distraction rather than a glimpse of pure joy. For now, I am going back to smiling.

Cycle Break AGAIN

Ok. We have started yet another cycle break. Didn't we just have one of these?!?! This one's short though...2 weeks mixed with holiday hubbub, so it shouldn't be too bad.

Today started out rather interesting with Bubba falling on his back kicking and screaming every time I placed a demand on his prickly little head...

"Bubba it's time to get dressed." ...kicking and screaming
"Bubba it's time to eat." ...kicking and screaming
"Bubba it's time to go to Disney World." ...kicking and screaming

It seriously didn't matter what I said to him.

Moosie was of course running around like speed baby, doing his "happy dance" every five seconds because he was so happy Bubba was home.

The day turned around, and by late afternoon we accomplished quite a bit... art [me and Moose made a Rudolph puppet and Bubba made a Santa Claus puppet], math [we worked on addition by playing dice games and I'm sure we learned something by playing the War card game?], reading [I tricked Bubba into 'helping' me read a book on Snowplows], and then a little bit of everything by incorporating what we read about with some shaving cream and toy trucks on the kitchen table. We had salt to 'melt' the snow but we had to improvise and use Paprika for the sand to help give the trucks traction.

Then we had dinner...spaghetti, carrots, and garlic bread, which were only partially from a jar/can/bag. Hey, I diced the damn onions and browned the ground beef!

Then off to the library where not even one book was ripped...at least not one that I'm aware of. Even got Bubba to do one worksheet (leftover homework from last quarter) before we made Magic Cookie bars.

Now the boys are watching a little bit of Thomas the Train before I tackle bedtime, which happens to be right before Daddy gets home from work. To prepare, I'm drinking store-bought eggnog (yes with brandy) in a plastic chewed-up cup with Easter chicks on it. I added a sprinkle of nutmeg to class it up a bit.

All and all a pretty good day I guess.

Worth It

As I was trying to get Bubba asleep, he asked why he weighs 57 pounds now instead of 60 pounds like he did the last time he was at the doctor. I talked to him about good food choices and bad food choices, and what foods will help him grow up big and strong. We went through many foods, classifying them as healthy and unhealthy.

Bubba rolled over and hugged me while softly saying, "Mommy, loving you makes me strong."
and then quizzically
"Mommy? I feel your spine."

I never know where these statements come from... learned, expressive, or otherwise, but those kinds of seemingly spontaneous moments hit me in just the right spot at just the right time.

IEP Update

The IEP went OK. There were some things I pushed for on which I received resistance, but I had to keep reminding myself about doing what is right for Moosie specifically, not just what is technically the right thing to do in the actual IEP document according to the law.

Those issues will be specifically noted in detail in my follow up letter and I will be watching like a hawk. They are not things I think will hurt Moosie unless something is interpreted terribly wrong...but I'll be watching and ready to take action when needed and I'll have my documentation just in case...

The only time I cried during the meeting is when we discussed his days of services. We agreed to 4 half days a week and it just hit me that my little boy will not be with me 4 half days a week. I'm tearing up just writing it down. I worked full time (not at home) when Bubba made this transition, so this part is so new to me.

Oh Come All Ye Faithful

Hubby and I were laying in our bed with the boys trying to get them to fall asleep easily. I was singing Christmas hymns because I love singing them and now's the only time of year I can get away with it!

Anyhow, after a quiet rendition of Silent Night, I extinguished the candle I had burning on the dresser. Seemingly out of nowhere, a sleepy Bubba exclaimed, "Mom, you sure blow things good!"

I'm not sure who snickered louder, me or Hubby.

IEP Hell

Moosie's 1st IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meeting is tomorrow. We've been through a gazillion of these with Bubba and the school district. I've learned to prioritize, tackle what I can, and then request additional meetings to tackle the remaining issues.

For Moosie's initial IEP, my points of contention are to make sure he is in the regular ed preschool, he receives adequate speech/language therapy (including in the classroom), he receives adequate occupational therapy/consult (in the classroom) to address his sensory issues, and he gets ESY (extended school year - I perceive this to be the most resisted item) services. Next on the list is communication in the classroom (between Moosie/Peers/Teacher and Home/Classroom/Therapists!).

Tonight's my IEP planning night but I stayed up until 2AM last night doing some freelance work, so I have eaten into some of my sleep bank!

Tomorrow should be interesting.

Fit to be Tied

For those of you keeping track, Bubba now has the labels of ADHD and PDD-NOS velcroed to him. I think that has him and Moosie tied. Tied for what, I'm not sure.

I tried fighting the system, but have caved in to get my kiddos what they need...funding for equipment, assistance in schools, etc. It's ridiculous that they can't get certain things unless they have certain diagnoses, regardless of what issues are affecting them and impacting their access to successful, meaningful lives.

Sanity

I've noticed lately that things aren't making me nearly as anxious as they used to. I've also noticed that I'm starting to laugh like a giddy school girl at the ridiculous clips on the America's Funniest Home Videos TV show. I'm not sure what that means, but it can't be all good. I still find the announcer extremely annoying, so at least I'm still registering on the positive side of the sanity gauge.

Believing

While driving around looking at Christmas lights one night, Bubba asked why some people had Christmas lights and some people didn't.

Even though I knew he was looking for the answer "Because some people hang them up and some people don't," I decided to try and be wise and thoughtful:

"People believe different things. Some people don't put out Christmas lights because they don't celebrate Christmas."

"Why mommy?"

"Some people believe in Christmas, some people believe in Hanukkah, some people believe in Kawanza, some people believe in Jesus, some people just believe in the spirit of giving..."

"Why mommy?"

And so it went for the entire car ride until we finally got to the answer he was satisfied with: "Some people think it's too cold to hang Christmas lights."

And so I thought my one-sided discussion on what people believe was unappreciated.

So the next night as we were driving around looking at Christmas lights (yes we drive around a lot at night!), Bubba proves me wrong:

"Mommy, I don't believe in Jesus."
"Huh?"
"I don't believe in Jesus, just Santa Claus."
"Honey you can believe in both, you don't have to choose."
"OK. Santa Claus."

I can't wait until he announces this at church.

Shame Shame Shame

Yesterday, my dad gave us a couple of coffee mugs that he swiped from work. The word "Integrity" is boldly displayed on the cups along with the company's ethics hotline. If you are silently laughing to yourself, then you get the irony...

Martyr Mom

OK, because I think everyone should feel my pain...

Bubba is off school today AGAIN. This is day 5 of no school. Remember, 4 days off for Thanksgiving, and in 2 weeks we have Christmas break...or Holiday Break...or whatever the hell they call it.

So today I was on the phone with various therapists and doctors... with screaming kids and growling dogs in the background, kids running out of the house into the ice with no shoes on, kids throwing their candy icing gingerbread house all over the kitchen during a pretend army battle...you get the idea.

I haven't even touched my massive to-do list that I created 2 weeks ago because my "in the moment" to-do list never ends.

Today we went to pick up my glasses (so I can stop wearing my half-glasses while I work (Moosie broke one of the arms off months ago), ordered Bubba some new glasses (he destroyed his in a meltdown a few weeks ago), and then I called therapist for private therapy for Moosie, a doctor for vision therapy for Bubba, called another doctor to fax Bubba's records so he can have vision therapy, faxed Moosie's new evaluation to the school in preparation for his IEP, and scheduled his IEP for next week. Crap, that reminds me of the other things I need to do before 4PM.

By the way, if you're wondering why I have time to type this? I don't. My kids are now pulling files out in my office, so I have probably paid dearly for this little vent. In the time it took to type the previous sentence, both boys ran upstairs and slammed the door. Chances are they will be across the street by the time I get upstairs.

Tonight when Hubby gets home I get to work. Yeah. Happy frick'n Holidays. :)

Winter weather

The news folks here keep stressing that people should stay off the roads and stay home unless absolutely necessary. Then they go to a live shot and other reporters talk about how it took them three hours to get to that location.

I am stuck at home with two boys who are ready to either explode or implode, one of which is sick. I think me leaving home is more urgent than their road trips to film snow and mushy streets.

A friend of mine called to see if I needed anything while she was out. As we ended the call, I told her to stay safe and she told me to stay sane. She knows what I'm dealing with here...two snow days backing right into the weekend, right after a four-day holiday weekend...not the pleasant makings of fun and relaxing times.

Moosie's New Diagnoses

My kids are into collecting hotwheels, trains, and labels. A few weeks ago Moosie underwent a 3 hour evaluation, and Hubby and I went to the 'conference' today.

Moosie's newest diagnoses are Oral Apraxia and Verbal Apraxia. This isn't shocking since I have been suspecting apraxia for over a year, and I think it'll help us move in the right direction more efficiently for Moosie Moose.

Prognosis for Moosie is good; he has many strengths: persistence, attention to task, and compliance. Although therapy will be "long term," we have no reason to believe that Moosie won't be intelligibly speaking some day. For now, we just keep on encouraging those vocalizations and signs!

Learn with us and read about verbal and oral apraxia.

Patience

Bubba's school is big on teaching "character." I just love explaining to a child who can barely understand the concept of "bedtime" such abstract words as "perseverance." This month's topic of choice is "patience." Since I have a lot of opportunities with Bubba to illustrate the concept of "patience," he has heard the word quite a bit. I didn't realize how much until after I had told Bubba several times that it was time to clean up the Play-Doh, my smarty-pants boy sneered "Mom, use your patience!"

Moosie

Figured I better be fair. This is of Moosie so long ago it seems...

Ring of Fire

I decided to dabble in "youtube.com" with one of my favorite Bubba videos of all time. Not the best quality, but whatever. We'll see if this works...



Oh, and Bubba is still quite the music connoisseur...if we could afford an Ipod and would actually give one to Bubba, his playlist would currently consist of Metallica, Johnny Cash, Toby Keith, Enya, James Blunt, Polynesia Spa, the Pink Panther, and various Kids Bopp crud.

Grandpa

My kids are genuine. That means they don't kindly say thank you when they don't like a gift, but it also means when they say or do something really loving, it's straight from their little hearts.

We haven't seen my dad much over the past few weeks because either he's working [too much] or we've got something going on [if we have to go to one more wedding, shower, or birthday party I am going to scream! I seriously do not enjoy 'functions' when they are every single weekend.]. Grandma and Mema were over on Halloween, but Grandpa had to work late.

Anyhow, my parents came over for dinner last night and when my dad walked in, Bubba hugged him tight and said "I missed you Grandpa." Just like that, in a soft, honest voice. He lingered only for a second before going back to terrorizing his toy cars with his dinosaur puppet. "ROOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR. CRASH. I eat my food!!!"

My dad looked a little shocked, and I think hubby teared up. I don't think it was because of the flying Hotwheels and fresh gashes in the wall, but I could be wrong.

Those moments don't happen all of the time [well, the flying cars do, but not the sweet moments], but when they do, I take the time to notice.

That time of year

So I was making a chocolate pie, and Bubba walks in the kitchen.

Bubba: "What'chu doing mom?"
Me: "Making chocolate pie."
Bubba: "I like chocolate pie mom! I LOOOOOVE November."

Well at least if anything, I have brainwashed my children into loving autumn. I bake and cook uncontrollably during this time of year, and my soon-to-be seven year old has caught on to this. The leaves come down and good food takes over the house!

Oh, Sister, if you're reading this, I made lasagna this morning (for dinner tonight if it lasts until then!)... I thought of you the entire time...

The sickies

Moosie woke up with the sniffles, which I mentioned to Bubba at some point.

Bubba to me: "Mom, you need to make [Moosie] some sooopah [soup]!!"

Bubba to Moosie as Bubba munches on some candy corn he discovered who knows where: "No [Moosie], you can't eat this....it doesn't have Vitamin C!"

It must be PMS

I am trying to finish up some work, and am not having much luck. I thought my somber mood was leftover from Moosie's school district evaluations this morning. But now that I think about it, I downed a big hunk of chocolate cake yesterday, and have been raiding the boys' Halloween candy all week.

Bubba's school nurse called to say he hit his head. When I talked to him on the phone, he just didn't sound like himself. I have spent the better part of an hour debating if I should just go pick him up and hold him. Apparently he's fine, but some days, I just want to love on my kids. I'm sure when he gets home, he'll be his usually independent, noncuddly self and want nothing to do with me. Sigh. I guess I better go cuddle with Moosie to get my fix.

I hate hormones.

P-L-E-A-S-E!!!!!

Moosie has a nice obsession with trains, specifically Thomas the Train trains. We went to the library the other day, and for once darn it, that little store they have there was actually open.

It took about 2 blinks for Moosie to spot a train display and beeline his way into the store. He then proceeded to jump up and down screaming "EEEEEEEEEEE!!!" and alternating frantically rubbing his chest with pointing at the glorious train.

Now, I knew that Moosie was saying in sign language "Please mommy. Please?!? Pretty please. Please dammit I'm saying please. Buy me the train mommy. Can't you see that I'm saying please?!?!?!?!"

I gathered from the look on the cashier's face that she thought quite possibly Moosie was having a heart attack.

I distracted Moosie with some nonsense long enough to get him out of the store, but not without a silent acceptance of the fact that my sweet little boy has finally reached that all-dreaded developmental milestone--he is now a toy consumer.

Now I have two children who will seek out toys at every giving location and do what they feel is necessary to gain ownership of said toys. Great.

Politics

I have read Missouri's proposed Amendment 3 numerous times. The only thing I have issues with is the ambiguity, but when I thought about it (a lot), really, aren't most laws ambiguous? Can't most laws be interpreted in various ways? Isn't that why regulations are later developed to further define the law and courts are needed to make decisions on how the law should be upheld?

I've been tired of people who haven't even read the amendment, but defending their yes or no with a vengeance when their opinion appears based only on what they were told or by what they saw in commercials. ("I think this based on what so and so said.")

I also have a little spite in me, and I feel like a lot of opposers are mostly against the same debate with abortion as far as what constitutes life. I do not take issue with the fertilization and use of that product for stem cell research, especially with the 14 day limit. In any case, I think that seems to be the hidden issue with the church, but the cloning and such is a way to get more people on board to vote no. Then again, the other side of the fence is pushing the cure agenda, when I'm sure there's a lot of other scientist junk that can happen that has nothing to do with "cures."

I've weighed it heavily and I'm pretty sure I will be voting yes for # 2.

I thought I would vote yes for #3 (the cigarette tax), but I wonder about the message in that. If they are going to tax cigarettes, they should tax fast food to help pay for obesity healthcare issues in this country!

And why tax the consumers anyhow? Tax the corporations who pump the crap into society. And give relief to companies producing "good-for-you" organic stuff. Then maybe they'll lower the prices so I can afford to buy food that won't kill me.

Grilled chicken on whole wheat: over $3, Big Mac: $1. That's just wrong.

Ugh. How come I turn everything into food?

Show me the money

As I sit here wondering how our checking account balance is already at a big ol' goose egg, I wonder what we should stop doing. Get rid of cable? We'll we only pay $17 for that. We can't get rid of our internet access because I need that to freelance. We could buy cheaper food, but then we can't eat healthy, another priority!

Hubby is addicted to Netflix, which is another $19. Our cell phones are currently free, so they're fine. I really don't want to move. We live in a modest neighborhood, in a ranch that's 20 years old. I don't love our house, but we've developed supports in the community, relationships with the schools and teachers, etc. So what do you do?

And then I think, we could stop paying for Bubba and Moosie's therapies or sensory stuff. Now we can cetainly cut back, but if there is clear benefit, would we be doing them a disservice? If the insurance company would just reimburse us for the 80% they owe us for the past 5 months instead of playing games, I guess we wouldn't be as broke. (Thank you United Healthcare for the paper, postage, and time you have wasted.)

There isn't really a magic answer I guess, which I was reminded by an article I stumbled across today while procrastinating from balancing our checking account. The article states, "Sometimes the answer is to learn to live better on the money you have." My head hurt instantly. The statement could neither be more true or more difficult to swallow.

This is what I do

I wonder why the hours go by so fast and why my house is such a disaster. Right now I have about 15 million projects going. Today Hubby is off of work, so I'm supposed to be utilizing the time to work on a monster work project (past due).

So far today, instead of working:

• I've participated in Moosie's speech therapy
• I've photocopied the signs for all of the colors and taped them to the back of flashcards so that I don't have to keep looking up the signs when me and Moosie are playing "learning colors" games
• I've called the neurologist to have them fax Moosie's diagnosis and prescription for Bubba to have behavior therapy to me
• I've faxed the information to the boys' case manager
• I've called the case manger to see if I can get the early intervention program to pay for a session of social play incorporated with occupational therapy and speech therapy for Moosie since his developmental evaluation states that he has a moderate to severe social-emotional delay. (The state program assists with 1:1 in home therapy, but that doesn't help so much with social delays, which is frustrating to get across to them!)
• I've called the therapists providing the social session to make sure there is room for Moosie
• I called the therapists back to see if they would consider starting a therapy equipment / resource library. Those of us with children with disabilities purchase and make lots of things to assist our children and when we are done with them, it would be great to have a central place to donate them for other parents to borrow.
• I started gathering information I want to discuss with the meeting I have with a senator on Friday morning
• I've contemplated working on the grant to assist us with making a "safe/sensory room" for Bubba during his explosions and for both boys to do activities to help with sensory needs...

But the grant will have to wait until later. I need to get to work now. *pout*

Happy Anniversary

Today is our wedding anniversary. Hubby and I have been married for 9 years. We've experienced the typical ups and downs and the not-so-typical ups and downs. Either because of that or in spite of it, I still feel safest, warmest, and most myself in my husband's arms.

Hubby is off today, so he'll watch Moosie while I work. And then tonight he goes to class. So there will be no trite romantic celebration today. But already this morning I mixed up my words and said something goofy, and Hubby laughed with that crooked smile that made my eyes smile back just so (as I've been told)....and that's all the celebration we need.

I love you Hubby! As always... all my love, all my life.

Duker the Puker

Mondays

Bubba went back to school today. Thank goodness cycle break is over. I know I will miss Bubba terribly, but I also know that 3:30 will be here before I complete half of what I'm supposed to do today.

I thought all signs were pointing to an OK day...I wasn't tired when I woke my sorry ass up at 5:15 this morning to do some work. Moosie and Bubba slept the whole night in their own beds and Bubba woke up at 7:20 without a huge fight. (Well unless you count the one mini outburst when he yelled from under the covers: "I am NOT waking up!!!") He ate breakfast, got dressed, did the whole deal without much complaint. (I'm pretty sure he was too tired to remember that the night before he was adamant about not returning to school.)

Then the bus honked 10 minutes early and, as if on cue, the dog walked over from the kitchen and decided to puke his entire breakfast on the new carpet.

I love Mondays.

What goes up must come down

I just can't escape the male anatomy. This morning, we were up very early to go to the Walk for Autism Research event downtown. I dressed Bubba and Moosie in their sleep and then woke up hubby. After much prompting, we finally got Bubba to go to the bathroom, but it wasn't long before we heard shrieking...

"Mom, I don't liiiike my penis up. I don't want to go anywhere with my penis up. Moooooom!!!!"
As I tried to calm him down and gingerly helped him get his underwear back on, he continued to scream and bat at himself, apparently thinking he could beat it down if the damn thing wouldn't listen to his obnoxious screaming.

Trying to further calm him down, I stated, "Bubba, this happens to all boys, even daddy."

That just confused him. "But why?!?!?!" he moaned with a twisted up face.

Daddy took the less complicated approach, "It keeps you from peeing in your bed."

OK, apparently this is true. I confirmed with another male friend at the walk. I'm married and naive. I always thought it was for other reasons. *shrug*

Whatever the reason, I now need to go scrub pee off of the ceiling. The joys of being the mother of boys.

I need a penis

This is the 3rd cycle break that I have been home fulltime with the boys. I don't have time to pee by myself without fear that either a) Moosie will coat himself with peanut butter and roll around on the new carpeting, b) that Bubba will decide he needs something from outside and disappear without a trace, or c) Duke (the dog) will chew up the last of my coveted bras and underwear.

Actually all of that could happen in the time it takes me to walk to the bathroom. Lord knows what would happen if I actually shut the door to the bathroom, sit down to pee, wipe myself, and then wash and dry my hands. Now that I think about it, shouldn't women have the penises? Because obviously it was never intended for moms to sit down to pee.

Big boys

Despite the fact that this cycle break truly has been "psycho break" (Note to self: NEVER EVER EVER decide to repaint or refloor or redecorate during cycle break. NOT a good idea!), some amazing things have been happening.

One of the GOOD things that comes out of cycle breaks is Bubba and Moosie's sibling relationship. Bubba is actually developing empathy for the Mooser. Moose falls down, Bubba is right there and asks him if he is OK, and tries to help him up. And oddly enough, Bubba isn't pushing him down, hitting him, or anything else really impulsive anymore. (I think the dog gets that now. *sigh*)

Bubba ia also becoming a caretaker. The other night Bubba went into the kitchen and fixed himself a bowl of cereal, which is in itself a big deal to us. He moved the chair, got down the cereal, got down a bowl, got out the milk, and poured the milk without spilling it. Then typical Mooser sprung to action following him around pointing at his own chest squealing "eeeeee! eeeee! EEEEEEEEE!" Or in other words, "Me! Me! ME! I want some too! I want whatever you want big brother!"

Bubba, in a sweet voice, asked Moosie if he wanted cereal too, and when Moosie screamed "YEOH!!!!" (he's been crossing his yeahs and nos lately) , he proceeded to make Moosie some cereal too. And he put all of the stuff away too!

Bubba told Moosie they had to sit at the table, and Moosie ate his cereal just like Bubba, down to the last tip of the bowl and slurp of the milk.

My big boys.

Another Bubba-ism?

Bubba came in this morning after a brief romp outside, and began playing with the dog doing some freaky mock boxing dancing thing. As I'm wiping down the kitchen counter I hear Bubba's growling voice utter:

"mumble mumble...sting like a beeeeeeee-ver [beaver]."

He said it three times, obviously having no clue what the first part of the saying is and thinking he knew the second part. Where on earth did he hear "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee?" Maybe he heard the beaver variation from a movie? Who knows.

Teacher conferences

"Bubba, I'm so proud of you for getting a good report card!" I said as I hugged and kissed him.

"What's that mean, mom?"

OK, screw the report card. I'm proud of him. He is really holding it together at school and according to all of his teachers, he really enjoys school.

The teachers state that they can read him very well and know when he needs a break and when to take a walk etc. Not exactly what's in his IEP (individualized education Plan), but it's working for him. We'll deal with the paperwork next, I guess. I hate that part.

Anyhow, I talked to them about using the right vocabulary and everyone using it, so that Bubba can start using the vocabulary and learning about his warning signs so he can tell them when he needs a break (move toward independence). The other thing I think he needs is to deescalate in the sensory room instead of just taking walks to pinch off the anxiety (from which it will build from later). One step at a time.

His reading has kind of slowed down as he struggles with decoding, so me and daddy will be choosing some easy reader books as part of his bedtime reading routine.

All in all, Bubba had a great first quarter. Now we are in cycle break! (Or as one of my friends calls the three week break from school--PSYCHO BREAK.)

Autumn is in the air

I woke up this morning to cool, crisp, brisk air. My favorite time of the year is here!

Nevermind today Bubba woke up screaming that he didn't want to go to school, and me and daddy had to hold him down to dress him and keep him dressed. Finally he urinated (yes, in the toilet, sort of, for like 10 minutes), I put on his dragon belt that he wanted to wear, and all was right with the world once again.

After playing half-hearted fetch with Duke and the stuffed hamburger he stole from the neighbor's dog, I have now settled down in my basement office with my little window cracked to let in the autumn air. I've probably got 1 hour to get some work done before Moosie awakens.

Allergy

OK, I think we're going to need to go the allergy route with Bubba, but I'm not looking forward to it. Moosie has an egg allergy and that's a pain in the ass. I can't imagine both kids having allergies, but Bubba's cyclical behavior has to be due to lunar phases or seasonal allergies or something!

I don't know about food allergies, but Bubba has never been tested for allergies, maybe it's time since daddy has all sorts of allergies. In any case, I'm giving Bubba some Benadryl if his ear starts to get red today, and we'll see what happens.

Red ears

If you don't believe me about Bubba's red ears, take a look at this. The picture wasn't take during or after an explosive episode. The red ear is our warning sign that he is full of anxiety and stress, and an explosive episode is likely sometime later.



If you are interested in this, check out this. The book The Explosive Child is very interesting.

Football sucks

We've been newlywed giddy all weekend. Between us getting ready to paint, me working, and us running around chasing the kids, you wouldn't think we would be so freak'n happy! It helped that mother-in-law watched the boys Saturday night so that I could work without having to run after Bubba or Moosie every 5 minutes and Hubby could patch the walls without having to clean up Moosie yet again after bathing himself in drywall mud.

Where was I? Oh yeah, we were giddy. Then like the wonderful wife I am, I mentioned to Hubby that the neighbor told me that the Broncos were playing the Chiefs, and you would've thought I mentioned a free trip to an all you-can-eat Papa John's pizza and Dairy Queen ice cream buffet. (Hubby has been infatuated with the Broncos since he was a kid.)

Then all of a sudden I'm the next closest thing to Satan when I ask him to get the boys out of the bathtub so I can get back to work.

Of course I got the look.

When I naively asked what was wrong, I was adamantly told: "I never get to watch football!" (followed by audible whining and pouting)

"Um, you watched football last Sunday."

"Yeah, but I haven't been able to relax and watch football."

Well Sooooorrryyyyy!

Did I mention while I was bathing the boys I also cleaned the bathroom including all of the urine sprayed all over the floor by my wonderful boys (including Hubby I'm sure)?!?!

Learn how to aim and while you're at it, don't ever, ever say the word "relax" and "football" to me ever again! Ugh.

Rage

I knew before Bubba even stepped off the bus that we were all in trouble. He wasn't his energetic self, eager to get off the bus, bursting to say hello to his dog and his brother. He just looked "off." I asked him if everything was OK and all he could muster was "I don't wanna talk about it anymore mom."

The speech therapist was wrapping up with Moosie, and I waved my arms frantically at her as Bubba entered the room. It was the only distress signal I could think of at the time. Warning! He's about to blow. Don't ask any questions or place any demands!

Bubba played for a few minutes, and his ear started to grow red. Uh oh. The red ear is not a good sign. And then the fateful question came: "Mom, where are the cookies? You know, the cookies that were right here?"

Ugh. You mean the cookies me and your dad devoured like a bunch of pigs last night? Those cookies? "Honey, those cookies are all gone. Let's make some more!" My excited attempt to head off disaster as I ushered the therapist out the door did not sit well with Mr. Bubba.

First both ears got extremely purple and welty and then the grabbing started, and then the throwing, and then the I am so full of rage I just want to destroy stuff started happening.

The "safe/sensory" room we are making for Bubba isn't done yet, and our house has been ripped apart (literally) as we are patching and painting before the new carpet arrives, so I had no where to usher him.

After many things being hurled in his room, and restraining not working either, I took him outside. During the transition he hit the dog and kicked his brother. Once outside he began trying to pull trees out of the ground. I am not kidding. He would put both hands around some of the smaller trees and pull with all of his might. As he did this he would scream "Mom, it's not making me better! It's not working!"

My heart was breaking because this is the first time I've seen him in a rage like this where he was out of control and knew he was out of control and just wanted it to stop.

After about 15 minutes, he stopped, he brightened up, and said "I'm Ok now mommy." The storm had passed.

Folks this is a 6-year-old little boy. Can you imagine feeling this way at 6 years old?

Come to find out he's having trouble completing work at school, and my guess is he is being pushed to finish that work, which is pushing him over the edge. He is in "a cycle" so Bubba is on edge most days and probably will be for the next few weeks.

Poor Popeye

I can rationalize just about anything. For this entire week I have been pondering how to rationalize throwing away the bag of fresh spinach laying on the top shelf of my fridge. Nevermind that the bag is most likely no longer "fresh" nor the fact that I probably was never going to eat it anyhow. You know, it was one of those maybe if I put this in my fridge, my eating habits will instantly change for the better purchases.

Anyhow, looks like not only have I been spared having to feel guilty for tossing my spinach into the trash, looks like I don't have to feel guilty about eating like crap either! If I eat beef, I may get mad cow, if I eat spinach I may get E. Coli (story). Of course that means all meat and vegetables should be banned from my diet.

And you know what that means. I can really in good conscious decide to live off of Dairy Queen blizzards. Don't scrunch your face up like that. It's for my own health. I'll be like Subway's Jared-- I'll stand in front of the TV in my glorious skinny nerdiness proclaiming "Eating a Blizzard for dinner every night worked for me!"

Brotherly love

Remember the Sharing a room post? Well last night the boys were still sharing a room, but apparently they decided mommy and daddy's bed was much better than their own beds. We moved them back to their beds, but Moosie still ended up with us somehow at 2 AM.

Ok...collective "AWWWWWWWW!!"

Pills

So quite possibly the hot flashes, nausea, and dizzy spills that happen before I turn into Satan mean my ups and downs may be hormone related. Well my OB kept saying "female hormone" related. I don't know why she kept stressing the word female. Maybe my real issue is that I am a man and I just don't know it like on that episode of House I saw last week? Maybe I'm full of male hormones? That would be a logical reason to feel screwed up. And it would give me an out to wean Moosie. Woohoo!

Seriously, I get to be on the pill again...just what any 31-year-old woman who has had her tubes tied wants to mess with! And maybe we'll see some benefit in a couple of months. Maybe. And maybe I'll gain yet another 20 pounds from this medication. In the time being I get to make an appointment to a psychiatrist too and prepare to change my meds after we see what the hormones, ummm, I mean the female hormones do for (to) me. And I'll probably gain even more weight from that medication too, because it couldn't possibly be from the Snickers I'm eating right now.

My OB's "good luck finding a decent psychiatrist who's also covered by your insurance" send off made me feel confident though, so it's all good.

Ribbons

Because I know you all have enough ribbons and bumper stickers to choke a large animal (if you were wondering, the ribbon for supporting at-risk animals is the orange ribbon), I'm adding the silver ribbon to your list:



I've got so many "cause" t-shirts, I have no need to purchase any t-shirts for the next 5 years, but awareness really is very important. I will be wearing my silver disability awareness ribbon next to my pink breast cancer awareness ribbon thank you very much!

Unstable

I think I am Bipolar. I've already been diagnosed with Anxiety, Depression, and OCD. But these ups and downs have gotten really bad in the last 6 months. It's always centered around my cycle, or so it seems, but the extremes are harrowing. And the classic signs are there... spending splurges [we have no money], manic cleaning and organizing, elation, etc. and then down to anger/loss of impulsively control, trouble getting out of bed, the kids are lucky to get a PBJ sandwich, obsessions are worse, etc. etc. etc.

My primary care is a joke. He keeps telling me to reduce my anxiety/depression medicine in half because I complained about how tired I was and then when I said my symptoms were returning, he told me to take a whole one again. Huh, oddly enough I was exhausted again. Go figure.

Maybe I'm not bipolar, maybe it's just this medication messing with me. I don't know, but I don't like it. Don't worry, I'm going to my OB today. Maybe she can point me in the right direction.

Sharing a room

Bubba and Moosie are now sharing a room, and would you believe that Moosie slept in his own bed in their room until 6 AM? I had to force Bubba out of bed at 7:30 AM to get ready for school.

Them not falling asleep until 11 PM had nothing to do with it....Nor did daddy's apparent preference to watch the baseball game over maintaining their regular bedtime routine. Not that I cared much at the time, I was out with friends, chatting and drinking!

Of course as we were laying in bed last night, Hubby said he missed Moosie laying with us. Yeah, try having a sweaty little body permanently attached to your nipple every night for two and a half years, and you might not miss it so much.

Penis envy

Was telling this story tonight, and thought it should be captured here to torment Bubba for the rest of his life.

We were at a friend's house getting ready to swim, when Bubba happened upon his friend changing into his swim suit. In a matter-of-fact, but impressed voice, Bubba exclaimed: "Wow [friend's name], that's a big penis you have there!"

Batter up

during a Cardinals baseball game

Bubba: "Daddy, how many home runs did Pujols hit?"
Daddy: Daddy said something, but being it baseball and something I can't even pretend to get, I didn't hear anything but mumbling.
Bubba: "Daddy, how many homeruns did Jefferson hit?"
Daddy, half listening and half eyeing the TV: "Huh?"
Bubba, a little more forcefully: "How many homeruns did Jefferson hit?"
Daddy, listening now, but really confused: "Huh???"
Bubba, with that embarrassed grin I love so much: "Oh, he's a president. How many home runs did Pujols hit?"

The writing's on the wall

Literally.

I told you my boys were literal.

Apparently Bubba decided my paint job on his wall wasn't good enough. He embellished the wall art with his own masterpieces--his name and a huge big rig (truck and trailer thank you very much).

Of course this is no different than the time a friend and I were making candles around christmastime and Bubba excitedly wanted to show us something. Yeah, he had been quiet for longer than usual. In fact he was quiet long enough to draw a "road" for his trucks circling from his bedroom to near the kitchen and back (with a dry erase marker).

This time he "just wanted to decorate [his] room" he told me after he pulled me in to show off his work.

I think this is when I am just supposed to be happy about his use of creative expression and his great effort at writing his name.

Truth is, the writing is on the wall, and I don't see any reason not to keep it there.


Bubba's truck. It's kind of light, since he did it in pencil. Maybe he'll fill it in with marker later on? :)

Dreary

I woke up to a heavy sky with a heavy heart. The sky couldn't contain itself any longer, and it has begun to rain.

Deep breaths and silence. Peace to all.

My mission statement

Do not feel sorry for me, nor will I feel sorry for myself, for having these spirited, beautiful, honest children.

I will not spend my life and their childhood changing who they are so that they can be accepted into this world, but instead will work towards changing the world to welcome my children into its arms for who they are.

To the best of my ability, I will ensure my children will have the life they want, and that they will not lose their independence or hearts in the process.

Partners in Policymaking

I am now considered a Partners in Policymaking graduate (Class of 2006). If you are a parent of a young child with developmental disabilities or a person with developmental disabilities, I can't stress enough that you should see if your state has a sponsored program.

It has been the most positive learning experience I have ever been through. I am truly blessed to have met and become friends with the people in my class.

As one of my fellow graduates stated during her graduation speech, "You know how when your child is born [with disabilities] and you wonder 'Where is the manual?' Well, I feel like I finally got that 'manual'"

Look into it. I wish it is something the world could experience. Below is my graduation speech. Partners deeply affected my life. And by Partners, I mean the speakers, the seminars, the support, my classmates, the organizers, etc.

A lot has changed since I applied for Partners.

Moosie, our second child, was also diagnosed with a disability--autism spectrum disorder. But thanks to Partners, our family was OK. We knew Moosie didn't change. He was still Moosie, and that was all that mattered.

Bubba persevered through some spirit-breaking experiences in Kindergarten, and has grown as a big brother. Thanks to Partners, all it took was us realizing he is a person, not a behavior.

My husband and I are finally finding "the balance" after 9 years of marriage by realizing if you open up your parameters, happiness isn't just in the moment, but also in the larger picture. And yes, even that is in part thanks to Partners.

Before Partners, I was gunho, jumping into everything regarding "disability world." I felt that my "activism" was so great, but the truth was I was hiding in the larger issues, the research, helping others with their struggles. I was hiding from how disability affected my life, my family, and how I felt about that.

Partners gave me the knowledge, power, and courage to reflect and analyze how I really felt about disability, what I was really fighting for and why.

In turn, I've gotten to know my children and my husband in the way they deserve. I've accepted myself in a way I couldn't before.

Partners has helped me rebuild my core and my spirit. It's given me direction, confidence, and most importantly affirmation that what I have always felt in my gut is OK, even though it goes against what society throws at me every day.

To some, it may sound like Partners did the opposite for me than what it was supposed to do. I am not up in arms to fight legislators and take down school districts, but instead have first turned inward. But the foundation needed for my future advocacy work is solid now. I not only know my story, but I own my story.

Thank you Partners for letting me love and accept my kids, myself, my life. I am truly leaving empowered in the strongest sense of the word.

I think larger, good things will come from that.

Some visuals

Me and Sister at her wedding reception in August. (She was married on the beach this past June.) I'm the older, I mean, the more mature one on the left.


Since I mentioned Sister getting married on the beach...

Sister and Sister's new husband, LegoMan. (In case I have something else to say about him in the future, I must give him a proper nickname.)



Bubba looking off at sunset. No he doesn't have a tail, he was carrying his new dinosaur puppet, which he chose as his Florida souvenir.



Moosie doing what Moosie does best...staying clear of the water and scooping...dumping...scoooping...dumping....scooping...you get the idea.



Me and Hubby last October. I'm, again, on the left. I have rarely been drunk, but this was at a Winery. Hmmmm. Now that I think about it, all of the times I have been drunk have been at a winery. Apparently I like to throw fruit when I am drunk, so watch out.

Pooping for profit

I have mentioned Bubba's pooping issues before. It has been such an issue in fact, that he earns 25 cents each time he poops. He earns money for other things too. A nickel for setting the table, a dime for picking up toys and for vacuuming. Everything is deposited into a cool piggy bank that calls out what coins you are inserting....and each time Bubba earns more coins everything is dumped out and redeposited.

We reached the $5 milestone where Bubba can't wait to buy something at "LawnMart" (Don't ask me why the kid can't say Walmart, because it's just one of those things!), and we all trekked to the obnoxious superstore.

After nearly 25 minutes of trying to find something that A) only costs $5 and B) Bubba wants, he settled on a medium sized blue pick-up, which will probably break in no less than three days. Of course we had to get Moosie something too with "his money"(which miraculously appeared in his hand thanks to daddy).

As we scooted down to the checkout lane, Bubba spied yet another truck that was "really cool."

Bubba: "How much is this truck Daddy?"
Daddy: "Ummm, 15 dollars."
Bubba (exclaiming loudly): "Oh, I can poop that much!!!!"

Yep, he's ours. And we love him.

You must get the roots

As a kid, one of my many crappy responsibilities was pulling weeds from the driveway. And we couldn't just pull the weeds, we had to "get the roots" or there was hell to pay. Supposedly if the roots were pulled, the weeds wouldn't grow back. Whatever. The asphalt driveway was 11 years old back then and lined with rotting, pointless railroad ties; it was pretty certain the weeds would grow back or that new ones would take their place. Did I mention the driveway was and still is longer than some neighborhood streets?

Anyhow, my sisters and I have all suffered the wrath of weed pulling. We have all failed miserably, trying everything from a screw driver, to weed-be-gone, to strategically parking our dad's 6 riding lawnmowers and 4 cars along the edge of the driveway to hide the vicious, copious blades.

Like I said, we always failed, and were probably forced to dig weeds out of the jagged cracks with our teeth. I don't remember exactly, what our punishment was, but I know if wasn't good!

Now that all of us have moved on to college and beyond, dad decided that pulling weeds is a bunch of shit. He clears the asphalt driveway, which is now 25 years old, with a propane torch. I kid you not. He actually fries those naughty bastards to a crisp.

Today, out of daughterly love and fear for my dad's life, I followed his smoldering trail with a hose and pitchers of water. At one point he caught one of the dilapidated railroad ties on fire, but he just moved on while I stamped and poured.

He looked like he was having a little too much fun, and all I could think was "Dang, why didn't we think of this?" I'm sure using something that sounds and smells like a jet taking off is a little extreme for weeding a driveway, but I have always been one that is a little tiny bit extreme.

Hey, Hubby, it's time for a haircut...I know the clippers are broken, but don't worry. I've got a back up!

Yeah, they're cute

Yes, our kids are cute. No doubt about it. And if you choose to disagree, it's an argument you will most definitely lose.

Oh, and on those days (those many many many days) that I find my children neither cute or humorous, please remind me that they are not little copies of Satan on speed, but they are in fact cute, happy, spunky, loving kids. Even if you don't mean it, it'll make me feel better.

Perspective

I recently posted about our, ummm, lengthy bathroom project. Last night, Bubba decided to poop in the master bathroom (aka the extended project).

As I am trying to convince him to poop (Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be posting more about Bubba's pooping issues. I know you care.), I distract him by showing him what has been recently accomplished in the small space. He looks around and then with a confused look asks me why the cabinet over the toilet is there.

Of course he would be confused. That thing has been propped against our bedroom wall across from our bed for the better part of his life. When we removed the cabinet from over the toilet to begin the project, Bubba was only 2. He's now 6.

Just sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

Bubba still has issues with pooping and occasionally pees whenever and wherever he fancies, and he still has royal temper tantrums and other toddler behaviors, so obviously there are other things we deal with that haven't changed much since he was two.

That's not sad though, just frustrating and tiring!

WorkWorkWork

I took on too much work again. It's really not that much work, it's just that I'd rather not be doing it! And I have other things to do.

Moosie wasn't interested in napping today, so instead we went to Home Depot [Home Dee Pot as Hubby calls it] and bought stuff to finish the bathroom. I have to paint the sink w/ some dark grey enamel paint. We'll see how that works? I really have no idea what I am doing, but whatever! Then I have to paint the vanity. The trim work won't happen until we replace the trim in the rest of the house. The bathroom has been a project for over 5 years, what's another 5? Did I mention it is only like a 5 X 5 foot room? At least I put the outlet and light switch covers on today.

How depressing. Guess I better get back to work.

That's weird

Let's just acknowledge the big elephant standing here in this virtual room (Well, I have a whole heard of 'em, but I don't want you to get trampled!)

Moosie will be 3 in December and he is still breastfeeding. It doesn't feel the least bit "weird" to me although I thought I'd feel different before I breastfed a child.

For the most part, Moosie only wants to nurse when he is tired or crabby. He'll ask during the day when we are out and about, and it's easy to distract him. But there are times when there is no putting him off.

One such time was at my sister's house last weekend.

"He still nurses? That's kinda weird."

At least my sister says it. Most people just think it and give me a "Do what you have to do, but I kinda think it's weird" look. That's OK, it doesn't really bother me, but it does make me second guess is it weird?

We'll probably be weaning by 3, because it's becoming more of an inconvenience at night. I haven't slept through the night for about 8 years. Actually, I'm not sure my body could adapt to getting more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep!

Not sure why people are so weirded out by breastfeeding. Must be the sexualization of the breasts. Well if anyone saw my breasts after two kids and cycles of gaining and losing weight, they'd have to try pretty hard, maybe even squint and turn their head sideways, to consider them sex objects. Now that's weird.

Can they do that?

I was watching the news this morning when it was mentioned that Pluto is no longer considered a planet. Can they do that? I can barely make it through when a radio station changes its morning personality, how am I supposed to continue living when one of our planets has been dismissed from the solar system? No it didn't go anywhere, it's just been demoted to "dwarf planet." What's up with that? Couldn't they have come up with a better name for the category? And no, I do not mean "little person planet," people's first language doesn't apply to planets...or previously-known-as-a-planet universal bodies.

OK, I know there are more important things to worry about, but can a group of people just vote and change the solar system as we know it? More importantly the mnemonics we all learned to memorize the planets in the solar system are now defunct. That right there is enough to push my OCD-self over the edge. First teachers had to start using "take away" instead of "subtract/minus" and now this. Ugh.

Speaking of school, it's about time to get Bubba off the bus. I wonder what he learned today..and if it will even matter in 20 years?

Ready related story.

Can't argue with that

Both of my kids are literal, which can mean lots of laughs or lots of frustration. At speech therapy Moosie was running through the flashcards pretty fast. We were working on new signs, we were building receptive language, Moosie was making his typical vowel sounds... yadayadayada...

Anyhow, the speech therapist asks Moosie "Where do you put a hat?" Without missing a beat, Moosie points to the bakers rack across the kitchen from which no less than 10 hats are slung over various parts.

Her laughter quickly followed her gaze. Obviously not the answer she was expecting, but correct nonetheless.

Wednesday is library day

Yes, Wednesday is library day at school for Bubba.

For those of you childraising novices, this means when I forget to put the library books (you know, the ones Bubba has ignored all week) into Bubba's book bag, he will remind the lucky one accompanying him to the bus by refusing to get on the bus.

Likely conversation walking to the bus:

Bubba: "What's today?"
Daddy: "It's Wednesday."
Bubba: "Wednesday is library day. Where are my books?"
Daddy: "Awshit..."

You can't go to school on library day without your library books. That is unheard of!

And for those of you who are not experienced in living with a child with a disability who struggles adjusting to supposedly tiny ripples in the routine, "refuse" doesn't mean just standing there and pouting. "Refuse" means if mommy or daddy makes one wrong move, we may just experience the wrath of a full-blown kicking screaming punching thrashing ripping out-of-body meltdown. Yes, over not remembering books on library day.

But I love my husband, who has accepted this fact. He was the lucky one having to run through the house in a frenzy looking for the library books and receiving the dirty looks of the bus driver as he waited, and Bubba waited, and the other kids waited.

Daddy saved the day and all is well in Bubba's world for the moment. By the way, you don't want to be around when the school decides to change the classroom library scheduled day to say ummmm Tuesday.

Duke: 5 Bras: 0

We adopted our dog Duke from a local animal shelter in July. I took the boys "just to look" and Duker called out to me. Long story short, we brought him home a few days later, and the dog that appeared in the shelter to never jump, bark, etc. has since discovered his inner dogness and grown into a happy, muscular, and hyper chewmonger.

Anyhow, the dog has a thing for my bras, particularly the black ones. He waits eagerly until a fresh load of warm clothes is dumped on the infamous "laundry couch" for folding and then will actually root around shoving his nose through the pile until he emerges with a bra laced through his teeth. He then dances and shakes around the house like he is trying to kill it. Don't get me wrong, his moves look much more graceful than me chasing him around the house half dressed yelling "DROP!...Drop!" Once I finally catch him and pin down his 70+ pound bra-obsessed body, I literally have to stick my hands in his mouth and pry it open to relieve the slobbery, shredded bra.

I really don't know why I bother since he goes right back to the laundry couch to find another victim.

That time of the month?

Not sure what I was doing exactly, but I was in the kitchen when I caught Bubba fumbling into the living room out of the corner of my eye. As he does probably 15 times every minute, he dropped something. It must've been an important something, because seconds after it hit the ground he muttered in an appropriate grumpy old-man voice: "Oh Cramp!"

Not quite as funny as when he used to yell "You're under the rest!" when playing police man, but I got a good chuckle out of it regardless!

Kids will be kids

Bubba had been playing with big plastic megablocks. Recognizing the fact that the temptation for Chew-bacha (AKA the dog) would be too much, I asked Bubba to pick up the blocks when he showed signs of moving on to something else.

Forever trying to make tedious tasks fun, and therefore heading off nasty temperamental explosions, I asked Bubba to become a crane as he lifted blocks into the bag.

Joining in what I presumed would be fun, I made what I thought might be crane noises:

"Weeee...weeee...weeeee- thud" I deposited my first block into the bag.

My joy was rudely interrupted by Bubba's squealing:

"Mom, no noise!"

Shocked, I stammered, "You don't want to pretend to be a crane?"

"No mom," he spewed as he hurriedly picked up blocks, "I just want to pretend to be a kid picking up."

I sulked away, and the blocks are nicely stored in the bag...for now.

I guess sometimes kids just want to be kids.

Uh Oh!

Big news! Moosie has added a third word to his small but powerful repertoire of [understandable] spoken language . Along with the all important and enthusiastic "Yeah!" and "Doh!" [No], he now can emphatically say "Uh Oh!"

The backseat arguments between siblings is getting really exciting now!