LiveFromTheWangOfAmerica

They're Called GeoTRAX

2009-11-28T21:44:00.000-05:00

Not GeoHAIR.

Making the Feast

2009-11-28T14:04:00.008-05:00

Our day started off with some petty theft, but not of the worst kind.
Just a little boy who simply COULD NOT WAIT I suppose.
After brunch though, it was time to get cookin'!

To launch the process the boy did his "shaking of the spices" dance.

Then we assembled the items to go inside the bird! Oranges and sage are delish!
And then they start working the bird!
It's such a weird holiday at our house. We don't have people over, it's just us hanging out doing our thing, but still - even with just US it's a wonderful family day. We just do our thing and I enjoy the day so much. I'm not sure it would be so special with a crowd.

Home-made whipped cream anyone?
And as you can see, the boy has made us all placemats and is wearing a lovely salute to Native American which he made at school.
Native Americans were well known for their macaroni necklaces I think.

I hope your feast was happy and joyous. I know ours was.

Making the Pie of Our Homeland

2009-11-26T10:13:00.006-05:00

I've always been envious of people with deep seeded ethnicity who would pull out their centuries old recipe for this or that at holidays. You know, that recipe for lutkefisk that Tante Anna hid in her shoe on her way to the new world. Or that special cake with super secret ingredients that can't be discerned and no one in your family will divulge because it's been in your family for 200 years?
Being Hoosier........we're rather......well.
Plain. We don't like a lot of wild or fancy things and we're all mostly German Irish but somehow washed most of that out of ourselves except during Oktoberfest when of course we're all German even the Irish.
So you can imagine my joy when I realized that we did indeed have something PURELY HOOSIER that I could make for Thanksgiving. My favorite pie in the world, that I have sought in every grocery store at every holiday since we moved away from Indiana in 1999.
THE SUGAR CREAM PIE.

It's roots are Amish and/or Shaker (we've had both in the Hoosier state) and folks.....it is now the STATE PIE. HAHAHA. Cuz you NEED A STATE PIE.

So, the husband picked up the ingredients and I lassoed the boy into assistance - he might've been born in Kentucky but his DNA is 100% Hoosier.

It's ridiculously simple to make, and now after reading about it I realize it's the pie you make when you only have a few things around on the farm and WANT a pie.

Waddya know, we've GOT A TRADITION!

We choose the first recipe from a list we found - from someone whose Grandmother's recipe it was, as it said her grandmother was Quaker and that rhymes with Shaker so I figure we'd go for it. If it's not exactly the way we want it, we'll go to the next one on the list.

The bits that bubbled over while it baked tasted delicious by the way.

While it baked, the big boy did another one of our traditions that is a new one - started by his teacher last year, he made place mats for the Holiday. He actually had one at school to bring home but he had to leave school early because of my amnio appt and didn't get to bring it home. But he's such a cheery boy, he didn't care and excited made new ones.

We're ready for Thanksgiving with our Hoosier Pie and our home made place mats! Now- BRING ON THE TURKEY!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-25T09:10:00.000-05:00

Make a Smilebox greeting

Everyone Who Told Me Amnio Didn't Hurt - FIRST AGAINST THE WALL!

2009-11-24T19:23:00.005-05:00

Well we spent the better part of our day at the high risk OB enjoying all the lovely things they offer.
Like...GENETIC COUNSELING!
And BLOOD DRAWS WITH LOTS AND LOTS OF VIALS!
AND AMNIOCENTESIS! Can I get a WOOT WOOT?

Ok ok ok. lots of people want to know what all went on and what all happened so lemme recap.

First we met with the genetic counselor, who was actually quite nice and very not-scary and she took our family histories for bad DNA, explained the amnio again and then offered us the opportunity to participate in two different studies. One will use our chromosomes to help determine if they can link specific chromosome abnormality to diseases (outside of the big ones they already know about). They're talking about super super small defects or irregularities that have to be seen with the microscope. Of course, I'd be a dick if I said NO to that - it could provide SERIOUS help to people in the future.
The second study is one where they are trying to be able to detect Down's Syndrome via blood draw AS ACCURATELY as they do with amnio. I had to donate extra blood and extra fluid to BOTH of these studies. But again....especially after HAVING the amnio - I'd do anything to help someone NOT have to go through that.

The blood draws sucked as blood draws do. I'm no hero. I'm not tough. People will say "But you've had three kids!" and I'll respond that YEAH, and I'm a total fucking whiny baby throughout the entire childbirth process too. You don't want any part of me during labor until I'm properly drugged up because I am NOT a trooper. WHY? Because there are no REWARDS for being a trooper. So I'm going to be exactly as big of a baby as I feel like being.

But the amnio-ack. Ok I admit I went in terrified and then they TOOK so FUCKING LONG to get to it (we were there like 4 hours) that my husband had to LEAVE because our kids would be getting off the bus. So then I'm on my own. The doctor that we don't like much (not the one from the phone call) was actually really sweet and realized I was scared and did her best to be super kind and supportive.

Here is what it is like. When the needle goes into your skin, it's like a blood draw, kind of like damn that sucks. When the needle goes into your uterus.....it feels like a hot metal rod. I can't explain it any other way. It feels huge. It's not a damn pinch like they said. It's unimaginable and it feels exactly like what it is. A piece of metal inside you.

I might have done better, and be less whiny but the baby kept moving, stretching up into the empty pocket where the needle was.

And she kept having to withdraw "slightly". Just enough to repeat the most painful part of the procedure over and over and over.

But suddenly I felt a much sharper and WORSE version of the same pain and then she says "OK we're done."

I had been gripped the sides of the table so hard, and clenching so hard, I could barely stand up. They tell me THEN that I can't go to work tomorrow (WTF?) and that I'm supposed to take it easy and lay around like a slug for 24 hours.

I came home and had peanut butter, cheese, crackers, chocolate covered cherry and a glass of wine and slept. I am not sure if I am physically hurt or just emotionally scarred.

I could have results as early as tomorrow for the "fast screen" or it could be Monday due to the holiday.

So there you go. You are all caught up.

Ring Ring:BSA - It's the Clue Phone,It's For YOU!

2009-11-22T22:57:00.006-05:00

So last year, when the big boy was in kindergarten, he was mistakenly given a flyer about being a cub scout. He came home ecstatic and that afternoon he and his father went to the school to sign up. He came home crushed, absolutely crushed, because he wasn't OLD enough.

A year passed.

We enter 1st grade and AGAIN we get the flyer about being a cub scout. We ALL go to the sign up meeting and sure enough, there is a legion of grown ups in their boy scout regalia taking our money and giving us forms to fill out and and giving us flyers about ALL THE EVENTS THAT WE ARE GOING TO HAVE and guess what the whole family is expected to attend.

I'm not even getting into how bizarre that is compared to the Girl Scouts.

But my problem is this, they took our money, we shelled out money for a UNIFORM and by the time it was said and done, they didn't have a troop leader - den leader - whatever. Nor did they have a PLAN. But they did have $200 of our money.

You would think, that an organization as old as the Boy Scouts would have a PLAN - after all, their bumper stickers proudly proclaim - 100 years of Scouting. Isn't their motto BE PREPARED? Well lemme tell you, they aren't.

We had a pack meeting (that's where all the dens get together once a month). No word about a den meeting. We had another pack meeting. No talk about a den meeting. When we finally start getting communication - they suggest WE do it.

Are you shitting me?

Don't get me wrong. I was in scouting for years. And if we didn't have TWO - count'em TWO special needs children and a baby on the way - I'd entertain it. I don't have any problem pulling our weight and participating. But it just isn't feasible or reasonable.

I said something to one of my coworkers who is one of the grand poobahs locally and some other leader held a den meeting. ONE DEN MEETING. We joined in August. At that den meeting it was again suggested that we be the leaders. Or my husband do it. Oh - and during sign up - there were so many kids joining that it would've been TWO dens. At the only den meeting held, there were TWO KIDS. My kid, and another.

Basically - they lost two dens worth of cub scouts because of their failure to adhere to their own motto - BE PREPARED.

At our last pack meeting, the big boy got a badge. Why? What did he earn a badge for since we haven't DONE anything? I don't know. YOU TELL ME! I'd feel worse, but the parents BEHIND ME also didn't know why their kids were getting them,and they were older than my kid AND IN ACTIVE DENS.

So this weekend, we took a boat that the big boy had painted - one he had been given at his ONLY DEN MEETING (I'm peeved about that can you tell?) and attended the pack's raingutter regatta.

He was the only "Tiger Cub" present. I am sure that this is because the other boy has ALSO dropped out now.

He lost both of his races, but won 1st prize for best design. Oh what was the prize? Oh there wasn't one. Apparently it didn't occur to anyone that there should BE prizes.

So I am now going to help you out, Boy Scouts of America. I am going to help you with some words of wisdom from someone WITH a clue.

Everyone has to know what is going on. This means you have to speak loudly, and clearly and concisely. I know you're very worried about some prayer you wrote - but Jesus wants you to SHARE information, not just mumble prayers that no one can hear.
Have a plan. I cannot stand to watch 5 adults in the front of a room and none of you know what you are doing, reading from papers you haven't looked at before THAT moment in time. Seriously, it's cool if just ONE of you does it all - as long as that one is prepared. Jesus wants it that way also. He likes it when you don't look stupid.
Initiate and instill camaraderie. See - the biggest thing that children, especially young children, learn in scouting is camaraderie. It's the forging of friendships that isn't built around television and video games. You would think, if nothing else, that experienced leaders would be prepared to pick up one extra den meeting a month VS. sacrificing two entire dens. Some of you people live and breathe this stuff-I know you do, I can tell by how well pressed your uniform is. You are failing. Spend less time ironing, more time figuring out how to include EVERYONE.

My little boy has been told by the BSA that he is unimportant to them. He is only 7 so he doesn't perceive this. But I do. It's even been suggested that we just "go through his handbook with him". Wow, cuz that's fun.

I loved Scouting. But this is nothing like Scouting. Maybe I should put him in the Girl Scouts.......

Stretching His Wings

2009-11-21T20:19:00.003-05:00

My oldest child is not at home. He is spending the night at a friend's house tonight.

It is the first time he has done such a thing.

He's not here telling me about various inconsistencies in the Star Wars the Clone Wars vehicles episode to episode. He's not telling me a joke he made up which is not a joke.

He's not here.

I don't like it.

I won't lie and say I've never been without him - I have. I've travelled for work and stuff and been away from him. But he was HERE. He was home. If I am here, he's supposed to be HERE.

Now he's at the home of one of his very good friends, with a wonderful family and I hear there is pizza and ice cream sandwiches going on tonight and I KNOW that this is going to be a night he talks about forever. He is doing what I did so many times, over and over and over.

He's having a sleepover.

He's never had sleepovers at grandparents or relatives, no one ever lived close to us. He's never had friends to have sleepovers with until now - so I never had to cross this bridge.

I didn't know I wasn't ready when I said yes. I didn't know I wasn't ready when I rolled up his sleeping bag or packed his backpack and picked out jammies. I didn't know I wasn't ready.....until we drove away.

I don't like it because it's the first of 1000 steps that will take him away from me into his own life. And I don't begrudge him or want him to have anything BUT his own fulfilling independent life.

But he's 7. And frankly, I just wasn't ready.

Hi This is Dr Jones, I've Got Some Really Bad News

2009-11-19T22:27:00.004-05:00

This, in my opinion is not the way to start any conversation with a pregnant woman that doesn't end with "And your baby is dead."

I went last Friday for my next round of sequential screening - and they RAVED about the baby on ultrasound. She looks great, everything looks great, and I quote "WE HAVE NO CONCERNS".

Then I get the call from Mr. Bedside Manner. Oh excuse me, DOCTOR Bedside Manner.

I hold my breathe while he talks. "Well all of your risk factors have shot way up, we're especially concerned about your trisomy 18 risk factor which has shot to 1:85. We are going to need you to come in next week for more ultrasound and additional screening tests."

And I sob.

Trisomy 18, if you don't want to click on the link, means death for your baby. It's an extra chromosome on pair #18 and it includes horrendous birth defects and odds so bad - I'm amazed everyone doesn't terminate on the spot. It is a cruelty that I didn't even know existed and now they're telling me Julia could have it.

Oh and don't forget DOWNS. Like, Downs figures aren't as good as they were either - but hell, I'm barely even PHASED by that in the face of the other.

So I got off the phone and I sobbed and sobbed and I called my husband hysterical and I sobbed some more and I just sat there.....I felt adrift. Like I'd been cast out of the lifeboat and no one else was in sight.

And then I got mad.

If this was so fucking dangerous WHY didn't Dr Bedside Manner suggest amniocentesis immediately? I called their office back, still hysterical, and DEMANDED an amnio. I wanted it YESTERDAY. They put me through to a genetic counselor who I was probably not that nice to but I was fairly busy sobbing and screeching and telling her I HAVE TO KNOW I WANT AN AMNIO RIGHT NOW.

So they made it happen, for Monday.

And I was still hysterical. I couldn't think all day yesterday, I was in a blind panic and felt like everything was just over. Done. I didn't sleep right, I had nightmares all night and I frankly faced today fairly numbly.

So today I called my regular OB and told them I was cancelling my appt for next week, and that I'd reschedule after I got the results of my amnio. I just couldn't take going to that office, seeing all those big bellies and smiling faces........and knowing that my baby might never breathe. Of course, in the course of that conversation I again began sobbing and hitching in what I can best describe as an undignified pregnant woman with raging hormones trying to sound rational and in control.

It SO did not work. They immediately put me through to my nurse, who told me my OB was in surgery but he'll call me tomorrow. And to calm down. Duh.

So then, I called my high risk OB (yeah I have TWO, don't be jealous.). I explained that I wanted answers, I wanted to understand my scores and if they were integrated scores or individual scores and also - I wanted to know WHY they changed so much.

Dr. Supersweet and Understanding called me back.

The firs thing he said was, "You do realize that your odds, despite having worsened, are still better than double those for your age group?" Which - I swear to you the other doctor told me the OPPOSITE. I began to calm down. Then he walked me through why he's not immediately concerned about Trisomy 18.......he said it's fairly pronounced, and while he can't PROMISE, he sees nothing on ANY of my ultrasounds that indicates she has any of those birth defects - which are physical and just tragic. He said, reiterating what I have already heard, that on ultrasound, she's looking very good.

He also said that he understood that I wanted an amnio, that not knowing is very taxing and hard when you have all these hormones raging - and an amnio can provide reassurance that nothing is wrong or define what IS wrong, if something is.

I got off the phone feeling better.....able to breathe. I made an appointment with a genetic counselor because he asked me to and said he felt it was important so FINE. Then after that we'll do amnio and results will come back within 2 weeks, I guess depends on how long it takes them to match up and count chromosomes. If I remember properly from high school it takes a while to figure out which are exact matches. :)

Yesterday, I thought the world had ended for Julia and that I was going to have to decide to carry her to term just to watch her die, or make the ultimate decision and grieve sooner rather than later.

Today I feel better. I'm still fairly emotionally raw. But I'm better. And my husband made me laugh hysterically several times this evening.....so I think that is a good sign.

I leave you with, something to make you smile.

But I Don't See Them That Way

2009-11-17T19:02:00.007-05:00

I'm probably too sensitive about the twins. Would it stun you to know that when I am with them, large stretches of time will pass where I forget that they aren't "typical"? To me, a lot of the time, they're just babies.
Great big, five year old babies.
We were at the grocery, pushing our two five year old babies around in carts, buying soda pop, and the 7 year old was babbling on about Star Wars and I saw a woman looking at the twins with a doting smile. She catches my eye and says "Oh how old are they?" I answer that they are five.
And then she says "Are they on the Spectrum?"
This is when my heart wrenches out of my body.

Yes, I tell her. They are both autistic. She tells me they are so cute, and we talk about their degree of disability. I learn she also has a son on the spectrum AND she teaches autistic children at a nearby school. She meant no harm or disrespect. She was very kind.

But I hate it that people notice.

I hate it for THEM and for me. I don't want you to see their disability. I want you to see that they hug and kiss and know all their abc's and numbers and that they CAN INDEED talk....they just don't quite understand it. I want you to see them greet me with total enthusiam when I walk in the door and the way they snuggle into my arms if they are sleepy during family time at the end of the night.

I want you to hear them laugh hysterically at Grover and at the Teletubbies.
THEY ARE JUST CHILDREN. They are not their disability.

At a recent meeting of our local support group - a parent described finding out their child was autistic as "losing" that child. At first I felt I understood - but in fact, all we lose is our IDEA of what they will be. When in fact, we never knew to start with what would become of them.

Our children are not who we think they are and will not be who we think they will be whether typical or not. And even though my beautiful twins were diagnosed with Autism this year....I didn't lose them. All this means is that their possibilities shifted - but not dissolved.

I don't see them as disabled. I just see them as who they are. I have to wait to find out who they will be.

The Redemption of November 13th

2009-11-14T22:36:00.003-05:00

Last November 13th, I thought I was going to give my mother the BEST birthday present (it's her birthday).
I was going to call her, after my trip to the OBGYN, to tell her I was pregnant.
I had an appt for a 8 week ultrasound and despite the massive amount of hormones I was on due to some earlier bleeding - I was looking forward to giving her a call.

Until I had my appointment.

That was when they told me it wasn't a baby, hadn't ever been one - and that it was time to let it go on it's way. Except that it just led to almost two weeks of one of the worst physical nightmares I've ever had.

Instead of calling my mom to tell her happy news, I called her and cried. And she cried too and it was a fairly miserable present to give her.

So this year, I was scheduled for a visit to the high risk OB - on November 13.

I got a little paranoid right before it - as you might've noticed from an earlier post. I just kept thinking,"This is too normal. This is TOO ok. Something is wrong."

When they started the ultrsound.....I held my breath.

Until she moved.

She is beautiful. And by the little glimpse she gave us of the goodies - she is in fact a she. We'll super double check that in 30 days or so. If she is, in fact, a she - she will be Julia Suzanne. Named after the Beatles Song Julia - and my mother's best friend Susan who is far more family to me than most of the people I'm related to.

Not familiar with the song? Well you should be. I'm going to be singing it a lot from now on.

Am I Still Pregnant?

2009-11-12T22:23:00.003-05:00

I think it's the transition from being irretrievably sick, cramping, in danger of miscarriage to totally smooth sailing that's got me flummoxed.

I keep forgetting I'm pregnant.

Now, don't get me wrong. My already gigantic G size cup boobs are even bigger and my round ligaments are stretching and hurting.....I've got the pregnant aches and pains.

I can feel the baby moving when it suits her (still saying HER)......but like.......

I guess all that constant vomitting was validating the pregnancy to me somehow. And now it's stopped.

I put a rational mind to it earlier, and realized that the last two pair of slacks I can WEAR used to be so BIG on me my husband would say they looked like CLOWN pants, and now they fit. And suddenly - I swear JUST tonight - my jeans are too tight.

I know part of it is anxiety because of the past two miscarriages and I can digest that ok. I can look at it objectively and say "You're looking for something to be wrong." But in fact.....if I'm sitting still like I am now.....

I don't feel pregnant.

Now of course, to make me a liar the little 16 week old human just flooped around but you get what I mean. If I took my bra off - I'd feel it. I'd be wishing I had a midget to walk in front of me to hold up my boobs. A strong midget, might I add.

But there are these weird moments, when I forget - until some ache or pain brings me back to it.

Maybe I felt this way before, but I sure don't remember it. Maybe I'm just worried or nervous because of all this ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE talk.

I go tomorrow for my next visit to the HIGH RISK OB where they are again going to rave about my ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE and then we are going to have one long drawn out ultrasound while they hunt for neural tube defects. Personally I am against these, and have decided we won't have any.

What I am looking for is the wiener. Or lack thereof, more specifically.

This, according to baby center is what my tiny human looks like.

My ass looks really good, don't you think?
I can wait to see her or him tomorrow. And yeah, I'll admit it. I'll feel a twinge of sad if it's a him. But it'll pass - and all I will be is excited about another beautiful boy in my life. All I want is healthy. Healthy will do.

This Video Wrecked Me

2009-11-07T08:18:00.001-05:00

Apparently people with autism are somewhat offended - however, as a parent of austistic boys - I understand the words - written by the parents of autistic children.
It is a nightmare.

Happy Birthday to My Hunny

2009-11-06T10:56:00.005-05:00

The true measure of a man, I think, is what sort of a Father he is. Does he let you help cook when you are little, so that you feel included?

Does he take you to places that are wonderful and magical - when you are about 6?

My children are so lucky. Their father wants them to have the happiest childhood possible, and on a daily basis tries to fill their hours with memories to carry through out their lives. He isn't a father who's absentee all week and then gives them tacit attention on the weekends. He's 100% plugged in all the time.

And I'm lucky, because I chose a man who isn't afraid to make being a Dad a real job. Because of him, we have two autistic twins that we can take everywhere - which never ceases to amaze educators and doctors. They know how to act, and they are well loved.

We have a seven year old who is extraordinary and kind beyond reason some days. Because of the words and lessons he heard from his father every day.

Being a parent isn't easy. Being a parent of special needs children is downright torturous some days. His heart, and his unwillingness to ever give up make him one of the greatest heroes I've ever met.

Today is his birthday. He's 41 and I only wish I had met him sooner - because I am jealous of all the days that came before we met. Since I cannot have those days, my only wish will have to be this - if he lives to be one hundred, I hope I live be be one hundred minus one day.

So that I never have to live one day without him.

I love you Hunny.

Auf Wiedersehen Black Trousers

2009-11-04T09:19:00.002-05:00

And so it begins.
I was getting dressed innocently enough this morning. Underwear, bra, knee highs, t-shirt and then I pull on my pants.
Puuuuuuuuuuuuulllllllllllllllll.
OMG.
My pants don't fit.
Now it's not like this event is COMPLETELY unexpected. I know the baby grows and I'll have to get maternity pants but it's like - OVERNIGHT my pants don't fit.
What is she DOING in there?
Luckily I have a couple of pair of pleated pants that are pretty loose in regular, non-preggo times and I slipped a pair of those on before running out the door.
But I'm floored - I have another pair just like the ones I put on this morning and I know they fit like three days ago.
The big belly cometh.
I can hardly wait.

The Next Generation of KISS Fans

2009-11-02T21:48:00.003-05:00

My oldest boy says to me, as we're loading up to head downtown ATL,"Can we listen to some KISS?"
To which I say "Ummm - yes - why?"
"Because," he says,"I wanna listen to something that rocks."

Okay then.

Clearly his current social circle likes to ROCK.

Halloweenie

2009-11-02T07:52:00.010-05:00

I have to confess that I bought another blue pumpkin because Martha Stewart made me. She's guilted me like three years in a row now, with their chic and unusual color but by god - NEXT YEAR I am going to just buy one for decoration because they are a MOFO to clean. DENSE as crap and thick as hell with meat - they are impossible to carve.

Due to a vicious round of rotovirus or norovirus or whatever it is that SHUT DOWN my kids school on Friday - we were all busy barfing, or laying on the bathroom floor, or pooping, or barfing and pooping, so we didn't get to carving all the rest of our pumpkins. Thus - PAINTING PARTY!

The littlest boy was still recovering from being sickee poo, and fell asleep on the sofa. But the big boy and the middle boy were ready to paint!

With some help from Daddy with the littlest boy's pumpkin - we were ready for Halloween!
Of course our neighborhood is full of old fogeys who don't turn their lights on or give out candy so we went to a nearby neighborhood to give them a scare!

That's right, a banana, hot dog and a Clone Trooper (Captain REX to be exact) are on the loose. NOW GIVE US SOME CANDY!

You don't think we're scary? OH REALLY? How about NOW........

STILL NOT SCARY? Oh well.......I've got your scary coming then.......hold on.....

Yeah, I thought that would get you.

Silly holidays like Halloween are some of the best parts of being a Mom. Even the twins got it this year and were excited as we went around getting treats.

Next year - NO ROTOVIRUS!

I Am Not a Teflon Mom

2009-10-30T11:17:00.004-04:00

Wednesday night I had a company dinner and so arrived home late. When I got home, my oldest boy was complaining of tummy problems and quickly dashed to the bathroom. When he came out, he was red faced and clammy with watery eyes.
In short,he looked really bad.
So we talk about how he feels and he tells me that his tummy really hurts.
And then he says "May I be excused?" and of course we say yes and he says "I have to go throw up."
Which he then does.
All night long.

It goes on until about 4am, and this is where I have to admit something.

OMG I lay there in terror, in between the vomit, hoping that he didn't sit up and puke all over me. Some moms get all barfed up and they must have Teflon skin - not me. I cannot STAND it. I mean - I'm THERE for him, wiping his mouth, giving him a drink to rinse and spit.....getting towels, giving hugs.
Oh GOD please don't puke on me.

He wanted to snuggle up and lay on me and that just kept me awake even more. I could hear every gurgle of his tummy, every moan in his sleep even better and I'm a ball of tension - don't barf on me please don't barf on me.

The next morning he bounces out of bed completely excited and off we went to school - he was feeling great and I chalked it up to something he ate. (Of course by then I'm not feeling go at all).

Of course the school called a few hours later. They had 150 kids have to go home due to vomiting and mine was one of them. The board of health showed up and they've closed the school because it's more than 10% of the school population.

All I know is - nobody barfed on me, and that is all good.

I leave you with a pic of the twins, on pajama day.

I love u more today than yesterday

2009-10-26T10:28:00.000-04:00

but not as much as tomorrow.

Fall Comes to Georgia

2009-10-25T18:36:00.009-04:00

It's official. Fall is here. We marked the occasion by heading to the mountains to the Mecca of pumpkin acqusition - BURTS FARM.

We had to start with that most joyous of all fall traditions - THE HAYRIDE. Why oh why is this so much fun? Is it because we don't have HAY and wagons in our daily lives (well, we nonfarmer types don't). I mean, it's messy, everyone's allergies go nuts, there's a bumpity ride. But still. It's absolutely joyous fun - especially for the munchkins - you can absolutely see the joy.

And well you know, then we had to get some pumpkins!

First up - the FAMILY pumpkin. We opted NOT to get some hundred pound monstrosity this year.

And then the boys each got to pick one out.
You can see Miles is being an awfully big boy getting his own.

The littlest one kicked this white one - so we decided THAT one was his.

And then Mommy picked out a blue one and Daddy picked out an old fashioned one.

So as you can imagine - we've got some pumpkin carving to do! It's going to be a busy night one night VERY soon I tell you what.

The Boy Has Got To Go

2009-10-24T10:19:00.005-04:00

My littlest boy has sensory issues, which are part and parcel with autism it seems. It's kind of hard to explain - but let me lay it out the way they did for me. You know how when you are sitting motionless and not moving - you can still FEEL yourself - right? Even motionless, you know you are there. Your nerve endings continue to transmit a message to your brain that says HERE ARE THE FEET, HERE ARE THE LEGS etc etc etc.
You know you are there.
His brain doesn't do that for him.
Thus - he SEEKS sensation.
It can take easy paths like spinning objects and wringing his hands.........
or like we're going through now........

holding onto his poop.

See, that pain - it's sensation. He desperately craves sensation that you and I take for granted.

We calculate it's been at least three days - and he hasn't gone. We've put prunes and dried apricots in him three days on a row (lots of them) at the doctors advice. We took him to a new doctor to HELP us with him because we're a little overwhelmed.

Because see, he's at the point now that while he's still the master of his domain - it's causing him terrible physical pain. So he screams. Blood curdling shrieks, to be exact. Last night it was all night, and my exhausted husband sat up with him, holding him until sleep took over and then carrying his giant 45 pound body up the stairs to bed.

The boy has to go poop.

This morning I tried making the sweetest, creamiest coffee in the world and then iced it. He spit it out. The other two kids gobbled it up. One was already a coffee addict so put the eyebrows down. My mother started drinking coffee when she was like 4. They're fine.

This lack of poop is creating havoc and chaos family wide. Everyone's nerves are shot from the screaming and crying. You can't reason with him. You can't even BRIBE him - he doesn't understand "Mommy will buy you a puppy if you will poop!"

This morning he ate three more prunes and some dried apricots in addition to his breakfast.

Somethings gotta give.

Or it'll be Infinite Ease with the One Handed Squeeze I tell you what.

Popcorn Up The Nose - Redux

2009-10-22T21:52:00.003-04:00

My middle child has a new favorite hobby.

It's shoving popcorn kernels up his nose. Brilliant - eh?

Last week it was innocuous enough - annoying and weird but easily remedied and life moved on.

But yesterday.......YESTERDAY...I returned home from work and the boy had a popcorn kernel shoved up into his nostril.......oh not just into his nostril.

Back toward the SINUS - where you couldn't get it out.

Off we went to the ER.

Sigh. Damned ER - you know we waited for hours to get in.

On the lighter side, Miles made friends with a sweet elderly Chinese couple. I'm not sure that they understoond that he was austistic - but they thought he was hilarious and he danced and sang and counted for them. At one point he started dancing and clapping and they got up and danced with him (the man got out of his WHEELCHAIR to do so). It was rather touching and sweet to see them playing with him, clearly they had huge sweet hearts to be so engaging to such a little strange boy.

To just absolutely cap this tender moment, the boy walked over to the man's wheelchair and put a tight grip on it's arm.

And grunted.

And FARTED.

And grunted and squirmed.

Yes. He pooped his pants.

The old man thought it was HYSTERICAL and laughed so hard I thought he was going to die.

I on the other hand nearly crawled under my chair.......as not only the old couple were privvy to this display - EVERYONE watched it happen.

Because you know, WELCOME TO AUTISM.

Sigh.

The doctor and a nurse put the boy on a papoose board and using suction removed the offending popcorn kernel in about 2 seconds.

And we are on popcorn moratorium around here, I tell you what.......

Advanced Maternal Age Is A Valid Diagnosis

2009-10-20T07:15:00.001-04:00

This is the mantra at the perinatologist, apparently. If we heard it once, we heard it 20 times during our visit for luchal translucency (down syndrome) screening. This is the drum they beat to make insurance companies pay for the myriad tests they're going to put us through.
Sarah and I sort of have a philosophy about being high risk, it goes like this. "SWEET! MORE PICTURES"! I realize that sounds a little snarky, but - in my case anyway - it's like being high risk without being high risk at all.
What is boils down to, is that they have diagnosed me as being OLD.

Seriously. Are you fecking kidding me?

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the red carpet treatment. I love knowing that my odds of having a Down Syndrome or Trisomy 18 baby are LOW LOW LOW after the testing was done, we have none of the genetic markers. Next we'll do neural tube defect testing so you know - MORE PICTURES! Plus I get to see the sex by then so that'll be fun.

I'm just not worried.

I saw that tiny human on the screen, with it's arms and legs stretching and rubbing it's head....and I can see that it's fine. Maybe it's because I didn't even start having kids until I was 34 that this just doesn't seem like such a huge deal to me. I was always "an older mother".

But I refuse to treat being pregnant like a disability. It's a gift, it's my hearts desire. And I will not see it otherwise, regardless of the testing and screenings that are required.

Unrepentantly Spoiling Him

2009-10-18T12:54:00.012-04:00

My oldest boy turned 7 at the end of September. For the past few years, due to a double downsizing and the economy, we haven't been able to give him a proper birthday party. A proper yuppie-white-suburban birthday party. For his first four years, his birthdays were oh, extreme to say the least. Disney World. Huge affairs at the Mouse House of Chuck. But the past three, well - Mommy and Daddy have been broke.
Not this year.

For his actual birthday, we just had the small family affair - like we've normally been having the past few years. He made his own cake as is his wont, and as you can see he even did his own decorating this year. That was possibly the CRUNCHIEST red velvet cake you ever had, due to the amazing quantity of sprinkles on top.

We got him his heart's desire, a NERF GUN which he has asked for literally for the past two years. It's hilarious and huge and despite my VERY anti-gun opinions, I'm afraid it tickles me a bit. I don't know why. Can you tell he liked it?

He took it outside and shot up the worlds largest mushroom that was growing in our front yard. THAT will teach you, damned fungi!
You might think that this was a pretty nice birthday - but we wanted to do something special - something different - because this little boy is different, IS special in ways I cannot adequately share in words.

So we rented a train car at the Southeastern Railway Museum north of Atlanta.

And we invited his friends and classmates to come and share in our joy - which they did with great enthusiasm.

Why? Why a second party, that is pretty lavish and full of excitement for a little boy who already had a pretty darned good birthday? Why SPOIL him?
Because ladies of the jury, this child is not spoiled in his life. His entire life revolves around accommodations for two demanding special needs brothers. "Change the channel, that show is upsetting your brother - I don't CARE change it now!" "Just give him the toy, you can play with it later!" "Put that away, don't play with it now, it's pieces are too small - Lil Birdman will eat the pieces!" "Pick up the pieces of that broken toy so no one eats it - quick get them!" "Watch your brothers Mommy and Daddy will be in the kitchen."

He's their keeper, their warden, their guardian angel. He gives up and gives up and gives up. He shares bites of food and treats when they have eaten all of theirs and want more. He is patient with them, especially when they are unreasonable to the point of insanity.

So we played games, and had a really expensive fancy birthday cake complete with a dinosaur that lept from the cake and roared (ok that was REALLY cool) and we got to tour ALL of the trains in the museum......

And to end our day, we got to ride on a real train - all of the kids piling into the gondola on top of the caboose, to ride up on top looking out the windows at the freezing rain that was falling outside.

This child is some days like a small saint to me, despite his flawed human self - who is in fact only seven. As I watched the other children at the party I really understood how different he is, and how different his life is. He doesn't have the LUXURY of selfishness or even the opportunity to be ME centered the way the other children do. It makes me sad - but in a lot of ways it makes me proud. I think in the long run it will make him a better person.

Thus - once in a while, this child gets his hearts desire. Because this is right and just.

Sunday morning

2009-10-18T10:25:00.000-04:00

Orange bread surprise for my sleepy heads

Popcorn and Down Syndrome Screening

2009-10-15T22:15:00.002-04:00

Just when you think that you won't be able to distract yourself from a test you're not looking forward to, reality comes along and gives you something to figure out.
Such as - why is my child making that noise with is nose?
And - why is he gingerly touching his nose making a snuffing sound?

When I tilt his head back......I see the problem.

He's stuffed popcorn kernels into his nostrils.

Both of them.

I try to dislodge them with my pinkie fingernail but quickly realize that this is pushing them further back. So I gingerly push from his cheeks toward the opening of his nose and VOILA - it rains popcorn kernels out his nose.

Ahhhhhhh.......the stuff they don't put in the books - eh?

Know what else they don't put in books? Well, they might put it in books, but like - they don't properly beat you over the head with it - is that they're gonna scare the bejesus out of you about down syndrome if you're an older mother.

We're going tomorrow to get the baby screened for down syndrome. It's a fancy ultrasound that looks for physical markers. If they see the physical markers they'll recomment amniocentesis.

85% of all Down Syndrome children are born to women under 35. My chance of having a Child with Down Syndrome is only 2% - which is 98% chance of it not being a problem at all then isn't it?

Yet I fret a little.

I suppose at this point all I can hope is that some day he or she grows up, and doesn't stick popcorn kernels up her nose.