Nightmares Got Me Down

Lately I haven’t been sleeping very well. D’s irregular sleeping patterns of late have really been messing up my sleep rhythm. He has been getting up at least once a night for the last 2 months, and in between there Miss Em was also waking up at night. Why can’t they just sleep!?!

I’m getting  a little desperate for some shut-eye, and in case you don’t believe me, here’s a story to prove just how sleep-deprived I’m becoming. My body is now expecting to wake up in the middle of the night. If a small child doesn’t wake me up, I have dreams about it. The AC shutting off sounds like, in my half-sleeping state, a child banging our bedroom door open. I roll over and think I see little heads right by my bed, asking to climb in. It’s a negative pattern! I’m exhausted!

If that’s not enough (which it IS) I can’t even take naps without similar thoughts waking me or causing strange dreams to appear. Case in point:

This morning D woke up at 5:00am. I was able to convince him (by not getting up) that it was not time to wake up until about 5:30 when he came desperately calling my name “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” ALRIGHT!! I’LL GET UP! *UGH* So I went to the TV, turned on his favorite episode of Team Umizoomi, and did my best to sleep more on the couch. The problem? My over-active imagination, coupled with the sound of the TV show, coupled (tripled?) by the compounding hours I have been lacking sleep created this frightening dream:

Team UmiZoomi

I was building a house using shapes. It is so important to build a house, for my family, for my dog… I was a house building maniac! And I did it all free of charge, because I’m extremely generous. Plus, the shapes are free. I have a shape belt, every where I go. It’s a super shape belt. SUPER SHAPES!

Then, out of nowhere the news pops on and the reporter is frantically reporting that there is a shape bandit on the loose! He is furry! And extremely dangerous! He’s stealing shapes all over the city! This can’t be happening. I try to quickly finish the house I’m building so I can hide – nothing is worse than a shape-stealing shape bandit! I decided to make oval windows, but then BAM! It’s the Shape Bandit!

“Oooooo! Just the ovals I was looking for!”

“What? NO! Those are MY ovals! I put them in there, fair and square … I mean OVAL!”

“These shapes are mine, AAAAAAallll Mine.”

“NOOOOO HOO HOOOOOO!!”

At this point I fall to my knees in uncontrollable sobs. This house will never get finished! I try to replace the ovals, with another shape – rectangles, but he steals those too! This crazy Shape Bandit is CRAFTY. For every 2 shapes I put up, he steals 3. Pretty soon I’m back to the bare-bones frame of my house and the Shape Bandit is skipping off with his purple cape flailing.

I’m a nervous wreck and I’m about to fall apart again when BOOM! An explosion rocks the world … then again … BOOM! What is going on? Is this the end of the Shape World as we know it? NO! I never got to finish my house!

That’s when I hear the incessant cries of my boy again: “MOMMY! CAN. I. HAVE. SOME. CEREAL!” Moaning my reply: “No, D. I’m sleeping now. Come back later.” He sighed heavily, the same way I do when I’m tired from not enough sleep AND tired of whatever behavior I am witnessing. *SSSIIIIIIGGGHHH*

The Shape Bandit

Here’s a link to the trailer on YouTube so you can see what I’m talking about when I say “Shape Bandit”

http://tiny.cc/5lf2cw

Packing Peanuts Paradise

A few weeks ago we got a package delivered. It had far too many packing peanuts for what was inside and both kids were immediately drawn toward it. I had tried to tape it shut, hoping that they would not be interested if they couldn’t get into it. Somehow the tape didn’t hold up though, and they both ooed and aahhed at the box full of squishy, noisy, peanuts.

In all honesty, I didn’t really want them playing in it. What a mess that would be to clean up! That’s all I was thinking about, but somewhere in that first 5 minutes of me saying “keep them inside the box” again and again, it hit me. Stop it! They’re just peanuts!

So we opened up the box and D and Em had a great time squishing them, stirring them with their arms and eventually, standing inside the box and sitting on them. This was really surprising for D’s part, anyway. He has Sensory Processing Disorder, or as I prefer to say, he is quite sensational. Basically, for him that means that certain textures are unbearably irritating to him. Like perhaps a tag on the back of a shirt is to you, or maybe you prefer your shoes a 1/2 size bigger so your toes have extra room. Those little things are referred to as ‘sensory preferences’ and having a few or even a small handful of them is perfectly normal. Having too many, though, could mean that you have many of these little ‘preferences’ that interfere with your daily life. Maybe you can’t wear your seat belt safely because it irritates you to have it pressing on you, or maybe it even causes you pain. Perhaps, it’s impossible to expect you to talk on the phone, not because you’re shy or dislike talking, but because the phone focuses the sound into your ear and the sensation causes you irritation, pain and even panic. That is daily life for D. Luckily, we have a lot of tools in the shed to help with his issues. One of his challenges is eating, and we are coming up with a lot of creative ways to try to get him to feel safe smelling, tasting, or even just looking at different foods.

Anyway, this box full of peanuts ended up being a really great activity to get D to experience a new texture all over his bare body. He was cautious, apprehensive, even, but he went for it a little at a time and soon he had buried himself in the peanuts to the point that only his face was exposed. Read more about this experience on the spdbloggernetwork where my post is featured today!

One of the messes I cleaned up last week, well worth every minute!

Picky Eaters – Five easy steps you can follow each mealtime!

Picky Eaters – Five easy steps you can follow each mealtime!

1. Allow choices. If your child refuses to try foods or eat the food you give them and they want to go play, allow them to choose how many bites they will try. “You can choose. In order to go play, you can either eat 4 bites or 5 bites.” Easy, peasy.

2. Offer variety. Sometimes, with kids who don’t want to eat anything, the best option is to offer a little big of everything. It can be hard to venture out of what your child will tolerate – D loves his chicken nuggets and we always have them in the house. My point is, when you allow your child to choose from a buffet of easy and delicious, healthy foods, sometimes they will surprise you and choose something you never thought they would eat. Example: We were eating yogurt, fruit and granola. I offered 2 kinds of yogurt, 3 types of fruit and 2 types of granola. He chose vanilla yogurt (no surprise) and refused the granola altogether (again, not surprising) and at all 3 types of fruit. He only ate 2 bites of canned pears, but finished his fresh one. He ate only 2 of the 4 strawberries he took, and most surprising, he ate an entire cup of mandarin oranges! Small victories, but they count!

3. Baby steps. Remember when you kids were first figuring out solid foods? You didn’t bombard them with 50 different flavors each mealtime, you probably chose 2 to introduce and then expanded from there. Well, when a kid has food aversions, it can be easy just to throw in the towel when it comes to trying new foods, but don’t be so hasty! Let your child first just LOOK at a food. Then maybe you can just SMELL it. Finally, you may be able to get your child to interact with the food by TOUCHING it and who knows, they may just want to eat it after they’ve become so intimate with it! This can take some time. We are currently in the “smell” phase of this with D for many many foods. Exercise patience (if you have a picky eater, chances are you already do) and don’t let them win all the time. If you child has NO SENSORY ISSUES at all, then chances are, they are just pushing your buttons to get their own way. Stick with it!

4. Change it up. Foods come in different forms, raw, frozen, baked, boiled, steamed, dried… you get the idea. If your child doesn’t like a food in the ‘traditional’ way, try something unusual, like frozen peas or vegetables. Carrots can be served raw for a stimulating crunch, or cooked for an easy to chew squish. Fruits can be blended into smoothies, served raw, cooked and canned, mashed (as in apple sauce) or over another loved food (eventually) like yogurt or toast. Try changing up other foods too, like moving from white bread to a more hardy version with fiber. Step by step you can move into whole grain bread, but don’t rush it!

5. Offer Praise and Know when to Quit.

I know I said “don’t give up,” but there does come a time when you should just call it a day, literally. If your child is pooped from trying new things or exploring raw beans or rice with their fingers, then give it a rest! The very LAST thing you want to do is to make eating a stressful and traumatic experience. DO NOT FORCE your child to eat things that they are refusing to eat. If your child has sensory issues, the food will more than likely end up on you, or on the floor in a second-hand form. Yuck! Even kids without sensory issues can get worn out from trying a lot of foods or just from eating in general. Here’s a tip from SuperNanny, set a ‘dinner timer’ for 30 minutes and tell your child that they need to eat so many bites of each item on their plate. Encourage them to keep getting bites and praise them when they do (don’t go overboard) and when the timer goes off, just calmly take the plate away and send the child off without dinner. Thirty minutes is plenty of time to eat and even halfway digest your food, so it isn’t too harsh. PRAISE, PRAISE, PRAISE!! There is almost nothing a child wants more than to be appreciated and loved by a parent. Admit it, even as adults we sometimes still seek our parents’ approval. Kids LOVE to be told that they are on the right track. Remind your child gently of their progress AND how much they still need to eat “Great job! You ate 3 bites. Only 3 more to go.”

A note about PRAISE: It is easy to get excited when your child does a great job trying a new food or when they *GASP* finish an entire plate of food! But playing it up too much can signal to your child that when you react less excitedly, you are less proud of their effort. Not true! Some kids even continue this line of thinking and develop a “learned helplessness” in which they think that no matter what they do, no matter what their effort, they cannot succeed. Good parents, and people, know that success is a product of applied effort. Teach your child this concept by providing tasks that are simple to do and try to stay EVEN TEMPERED in your praise to them. High fives are fun. We give a lot of those in our house. My daughter actually thinks that no task in complete without one. Give it a try!

Have a picky eater? Me too! Tell me your story!

Stop yelling already, wouldja?

A little while ago I was interviewed for a piece about parents yelling at their kids. I’m pro-patience, as a parent. It was great to talk with Beth Arky over the phone. She asked me how I deal with D and Em; especially in those all too terrible moments when destruction or great mess has taken place. It is a really great and informative article, including some choicely quoted awesomeness from yours truly (that’s Me, BTW).

I’m not the most experienced mother, and as we have discussed before, I’m in no way perfect. Remember; perfection does not exist. Doing your best: totally reasonable and attainable. I feel like I really did a good job expressing myself, even though I read some things I said that felt like, “Did I really say that?” I actually remember saying it, so I know she didn’t make it up.

There are so many ways to parent. I prefer patience, love and explaining to my kids what they did was wrong andwhy it was wrong. I do this within the scope of what I know they can understand and I do it with lots of love and patience. Example: D has been throwing stuff around lately. I think he picked it up from some of the kids at preschool. Last night he threw his toy dinosaur over his shoulder and it landed right on my toe. My natural reaction was “OW! … D, please don’t throw things, it could hurt people.” I said that in the most patient, calm voice I could muster while I sad on the floor rubbing my well-bruised toe. Well, D, being the wonderfully sensitive boy that he is, melted down. Not only did I make a loud, unexpected noise (I couldn’t help it) but he knew he had hurt me. He was not angry, he was sad. He cried and hid himself under the kitchen table and Daddy talked him into coming out and giving me a hug. Should I have disciplined him further at that point? Should I have given him the lecture about treating people nicely and taken away the dinosaur for an indefinite amount of time? I submit, no, and here’s why. He learned first-hand that throwing can hurt. He felt terrible! I hugged him and gave him kisses. “Mommy is OK, D.” “Mommy, that just makes me so sad.” “I know, sweetie, but Mommy is fine. Do you want another hug?” He nodded, I hugged. By the end of our discussion he was smiling softly through his tears. Later that night as I tucked him into bed he said: “I love you so much, Mommy.” Reward received. Patience paid off, lesson learned and our relationship is better for it. So, parenting with patience and love is important to me, but it is also important to be flexible and take moments as opportunities to guide and teach rather than to scold and shame.

One of the messes I cleaned up last week, well worth every minute!

Now that that informed rant is over, let me get to the real ‘meat’ of this post. After multiple emotional meltdowns of my own, I have finally decided to take my own advice. In the article, I said “accept kids as they are, love them as they are and recognize that half the problem is how you react. Know and accept how your child deals with changes and emotions and approach him differently.” This is one of those quotes I told you about. I remember saying this, but it doesn’t sound like the ‘me’ in my head every day. That ‘me’ is not very nice. In fact, I’ve been trying to take the advice of my college creative writing professor and “kill that voice” for years. Probably my whole life, even before I took that class. The trouble is, this ‘voice’ is like the Hydra. You know, that dragon-ish beast that Hercules had to kill, but every time he cut off one head, two grew in its place. Never. Ending. Saga.

Hercules couldn’t fight the beast alone. He called in some well-trained reinforcements. The sidekick decided to torch the head stumps so that more heads would not grow back. Eventually the two successfully slaughtered the Hydra and buried it in the dirt and covered the mound with heavy rocks. That is what I need to do to his voice in my head. This voice, which, despite my best efforts, keeps growing heads and voices and soon, all I can hear inside my head is this Me-hydra, this crazy, ugly creature that just won’t shut up!

The Hydra

So I’m almost there. I’m almost Hercules. I finally got my sidekick, which ironically is probably another inside-my-head voice, just a really, really nice one. This is the voice that says “it’s okay. Try harder” when I mess up. This is the voice that gives me a hug when I’m starting to beat myself up over a stupid comment made or a social rule misunderstood that caused some awkwardness. It’s the moment just before another head appears, but my Nice-Me steps forward with that blow torch and says to the Me-Hydra: “No way!” or, so appease my inner nerd and quote The Lord of the Rings “Back! Back, ye foul beast of the infernal pit!”

From here on, I make this promise to myself: “I accept you just as you are. I love you as you are and I recognize that I have been part of the problem, but now I am the solution.” Thanks again Beth Arky for writing this article and using my knowledge and opinions in a way that brought me insight into myself.

What about you? Do you have an inner Hydra that needs slaying?

Happy Birthday Miss Em!

Two years ago today (on a Friday) I got a phone call from my midwife telling me to go to the hospital and get induced. The reason behind this unexpected phone call came weeks earlier at a routine 34 week appointment. The midwives in the clinic (I saw a different one almost every time) had been checking the usual things, urine PH, blood pressure, baby’s heartbeat, etc. Another thing that they check is called “fundal height” which is basically how big the uterus is from the top, once it’s above the belly button, to the top of the pubic bone. They take this measurement in centimeters and the rule of thumb is one centimeter for every week of gestation. I was measuring 28 cm at my 34 week appointment. The previous measurement was fine, around 33 cm at 33 weeks. The drop in measurements had the midwife concerned so she ordered an ultrasound.

At the ultrasound, the tech asked routine questions about my pregnancy. Was I bleeding, cramping, anything unusual? No. How has baby’s movement been? Great. I was not concerned. I had no reason to be. Then the tech took measurements of my baby’s belly. She measured the umbilical cord with ultraviolet technology. The cord was hard to see since Baby Em was in the way and refused to move. After taking these measurements, the tech excused herself and said she needed to check with her supervisor.

She was gone several minutes and when she returned, I got some startling news, but I didn’t feel startled. Really. They patched the midwife on call through to the room’s intercom and I had a conversation with her. She said that Baby Em was possibly not getting enough nutrition from either the umbilical cord or the placenta. She also said that she had talked with the OBGYN on call and he had agreed that I needed to go in for NSTs (Non-stress tests) twice a week until either labor started on its own, or the doctors made a decision to induce. A NST is basically being hooked up to two monitors, one for contractions, one for baby’s heartbeat for at least 30 minutes or however much longer than that it takes to get so many movements from the baby. They follow that up with an ultrasound to measure fluid amounts.

Weeks later, after much stress and trying to figure out a sitter for D while I went to 3 appointments a week, I got a phone call that changed everything. Here’s how that conversation went:

Midwife Sarah: “Hi Alice, how are you feeling?”

Me: “Great; ready to be done with this pregnancy.”

Midwife Sarah: “Good. Well, I just got off the phone with the OBGYN who supervises our clinic. I took a look at your chart and it looks like we were concerned about your baby’s size, basically her weight gain. The ultrasound showed that her waist was small which could mean two things. First, she’s just skinny, or second, and this is more worrisome, she is not getting enough nutrition from the placenta. If that is the case, then what we would like to do, if it’s alright with you, is to induce you today.”

Me: Speechless. This is what I wanted, to be DONE.

“Well,… yeah!”

Midwife Sarah: “Okay, so what I need you to do is get yourself to the maternity part of the hospital and have yourself checked. I’ve already called ahead and the midwife on call knows you’re coming. If you’re at least 4cm dilated, we can check you in and induce today. If not, we’ll have to wait until Monday because we’ll need to do something other than just Pitocin.”

I checked into the hospital in under an hour thanks to some gracious neighbors. The Pitocin was fine for a while, until they broke my water and the ‘real’ labor started. Then the epidural took care of that (thank goodness, because I was ready to die.)

My husband was by my side and the nurses cared for him almost as much as they were caring for me. He has blood sugar issues when he goes too long without eating, so the nurses were offering him juice, me ice chips. Finally, just when I started to be able to relax again, the urge to push arrived.

A little over a ½ hour later, Miss Em was in my arms. The first thing she did was scream. Her cry was so loud we couldn’t hear each other or talk over it! This from a baby who was supposed to be sick and need help eating! AT least, that was worst case scenario. She was healthy! She was 6 lbs. 6 oz. of strength and … in those first moments following her birth, she was MAD! Finally we got her cleaned up, since the other first thing she did was numbers 1 and 2 (the toilet kind). Once she was clean and diapered, swaddled and able to latch on, she was a happy camper.

Only a few hours old.

Ever since those first few hours, my frustrations over getting pregnant in the first place went completely away. Her beautiful face, that gorgeous golden and rumpled hair, nothing was more beautiful to me in those first few days.

Today, my little fire ball still has that scream to end all screams. She dances like crazy, I call it her silly dance. She likes to sing and talks up a storm, although I have no idea what she is saying half the time.

When we first brought her home, Daddy and I agreed that she was our little ray of sunshine. She brought so much joy into our home, and peace to our hearts. Her presence has truly been a gift.

My Mother-in-Law, the AUTHOR!

 

Hey everybody, my Mother-in-law is a talented children’s book author and already has written one book: “Filthy Frannie” available for purchase on Amazon. Visit her facebook page to view sneak-peak cover art for the next installment “Terrified Tim.” The art is darling and the stories use adorable rhymes to teach useful and important life lessons for kids of all ages. Check it out!

She also has a website from which you can order the book, view upcoming news, etc. I love her and I am so proud of all she has done so far. Keep it up Cara!

Back on the Crazy Train

It has been a crazy few days. I knew it would be. Driving 2 hours to see the ENT, both kids being seen at the same time, one of them fighting tooth and nail, the other completely submissive and easy-going. It was the opposite of what my intuition would have told me. Little Sis fought. She screamed. She seemed like she was in pain, being tortured. And we dutifully held her down so the ENT (Ear, Nose & Throat doc) could look in her ears, her throat and tell us what our next step would be. I couldn’t help feeling like a bad parent. What kind of parent holds their child down in order to subject them to this kind of torture!?! A parent like me, and like my husband – parents who know, as painful as this will be, it’ll be over soon and it’s a necessary step toward taking care of the pain this same child has been having over the past 9 months.

Meanwhile, my Sensory boy, D was cooperative and opened his mouth big and wide, let the doc pull his ears every which way and even though this was obviously bothersome, he just went along. He seems to have this intuition about doctors. They help you feel better, so why fight? He has almost always been this way.

Both kids have ear infections (still) in both ears. That’s 4 ears total. Both kids have enough fluid in their ears to create a significant hearing loss. I knew that about Sis. The previous ENT told me that. But I had never considered this same thing for D. His speech has come so far over the last year, it really didn’t even cross my mind. However, the doctor said the fluid in his ears is definitely enough to be interfering with his sleep, comfort, hearing, and speech.

Little Sis has large tonsils, size 4 out of 5. She also likely has large adenoids which could be the reason she is choking on food all the time, has difficulty swallowing and also constantly has drainage from her nose (which she hates having wiped) and into her throat (which again causes her to choke and cough). Her uvula (the punching bag at the top of your mouth) is split down the middle. It is “bisected” apparently, which could mean she has some other concerns going on with her soft palate, like it didn’t close up all the way or something. If there is a concern – and how severe it might be, won’t be known until they get in there.

All in all, a pretty stressful day, but it’s good to know what we can expect… sort of.

The outcome for Little Sis is not concrete. There is a surgery date scheduled, but we’re not really sure if they’ll actually do the in-depth surgery discussed. It could end up just being tubes. I’m a little bit conflicted over this. Okay, a LOT. I like order. I like things to be planned out in advance. It makes me feel like I have some control over things in my life. Am I concerned? Absolutely. She’s my little girl. I can’t even really view her as a toddler yet, not fully, because she isn’t talking that well and she still cries and needs me all the time. Right now I’m typing with her on my lap, so obviously, putting my “baby” in the new category of “toddler” just doesn’t seem to fit… and yet it does… but now I’m just rambling.

The point is, I need things to be somewhat structured in order to feel secure about my life. I need unexpected events to have predictable outcomes. Like a roller coaster. When you get in line for a roller coaster, you can expect a thrill ride. You can expect those unexpected jerks, turns and twirls, but you can also expect predictable outcomes. You know that you will be strapped in, the shoulder guards pressing you into the seat, the safety belt strapped securely across your lap. These things, which normally seem intrusive, are welcome in the roller coaster. You know the straps, the harness, are all meant to keep you from falling out of the car when the roller coaster does its looping, twirling and zooming. And, you also know that while the ride might be slightly dangerous and thrilling, it will eventually come to an end. Every roller coaster does.

What I’m trying to say is, when I don’t know something, especially something this important (will they cut my baby open or won’t they?) I get a little bit nervous. Where is my harness? What happened to the safety belt? That’s when I start grasping for random objects, hoping to fashion some sort of last-minute safety device. What kind of crazy roller coaster is this? I’m not up for suicidal theme parks, are you?

So what should I do? I can’t get off the roller coaster and I can’t make my own safety gear. I only have one choice: hook myself in. “But you said there was no harness, no safety belt!” True. But, I said that out of panic and out of fear. Of course it’s right there. It was there the whole time. I just needed to take a deep breath and recognize that no matter how alone I feel on this crazy train called “life,” I always have help from unexpected places. My husband, in the car next to me, calmly hooks my safety belt, with a smile, of course because he is always amused when I am freaking out. After a look from him that says, “It’s alright, honey. We’re in this together,” I take that deep breath and steady myself and I hook in that harness. The ride might not be fun for me, but at least I know I’ll be safe. And this, just like every other roller coaster in the world, with definitely come to an end.

Accepting the Inevitable

Okay. Hello. I am human. I make mistakes. Part of me might even say that I make more mistakes than good choices. That is probably an example of the ways that I lie to myself. However, I am making changes. This year I am making a committment to myself to still love myself even with those mistakes. Notice I didn’t say “in spite of my mistakes.” I’m just recognizing myself as a human being. I make mistakes. I strive for perfection and almost always fail. Some might argue that I should strive for perfection. Perfection is attainable, if not in this life, then surely in the next. To them I say this: We may hope for perfection. We may even strive for it, but the moment we feel we can actually get there is the moment right before we get let down.

Now, in case you’re feeling pretty depressed right about now, let me enlighten you on what I have learned… what I am learning. While perfection may not be attainable, we have complete control over how we feel about ourselves. We can decrease our expectations so that we feel positive about ourselves when we accomplish something. We don’t have to do everything perfectly. In fact, it’s better if we don’t. When we are realistic about our own abilities, we can be less judgemental about others’ apparent lack of perfection.

This post is essentially an admission. I admit that I am not always a great person, great mother, great wife, great anything. But guess what? That’s okay. I don’t need to be perfect to feel good about who I am and what I do. Actually, the more I realize that it’s great to be me just as I am, the more I feel great about who I am and what I do. So, it’s a new year, and I’m resolving to do better for myself.

I’m not starting a diet plan, because I know I won’t keep it. I’m not starting a weight loss goal or a fitness program that I know will just make me feel like a failure. I’m just resolving to love myself more. So, what does this really mean on a practical level? Here are some things I am working on when it comes to my goal:

• Drink more water
• Work out 3 days a week
• Love my kids more
• Spend quality time with my family
• Work harder on school
• Accept failure as an inevitable part of life
• Let go of negative emotions and thoughts

This might sound like giving up, but it’s not. It’s far from that throwing in of the proverbial towel, the shoes on the mat, the hanging up of the jersey. I’m not retiring. I’m not giving up, I’m letting go. I’m resolving to do better and to be better this year. To love myself. To be compassionate to myself. Part of this process, for me at least, is to recognize and accept the faults that I have. Some of these I may try to change or improve. Others, I will just accept as part of the human condition, not that all change is bad… but… well, to me almost all change is bad. I really only see the good aspects of change in retrospect, but I digress. I am human and I make mistakes, but what separates the humans from the other animals is our ability to think and reason, including recognizing the mistake and learning from it. So, that’s what I’m doing.

If you would like more information on this concept of self-compassion, visit this site run by Dr. Kristin Neff, author of Self Compassion:Stop beating yourself up and leave insecurity behind. I bought mine for Amazon kindle reading app. Let me know how you like the book.

What are your resolutions for this year?

I’m not just Mom, I’m Super-mom

This is me holding up the Washington National Monument. (Dec, 2011)

I am a diffusing champion. World-class bomb squads would be impressed by my skills. Not with actual bombs, or course. That would just be silly. FYI, do not send a mother in there with the wire cutters. We’ll probably all end up dead. If the “bomb” is a 3-year-old having a fit over foam on his chocolate milk, I’m your woman. It might not seem that impressive to you, it’s just milk foam. Blow it off. Tell the kid to get over it. Take the milk away and say, “Fine, Jonny. If you’re going to throw a fit, NO MILK!” I’ve said that before, but that’s effectively like cutting the green wire when you should have cut the blue. The clock which was counting down from 15:00, now says 00:45. Great job, bomb squad. You just killed us all. But, I’m not the bomb squad. I’m the bomb-diffusing Super-Mom. I took the milk, midst screams and shouts and a tribal war dance which he must have been born with the knowledge how to do, I fixed the problem. It’s just milk. It’s just a little bit of bubbles, but to him, it’s the end of the sanctity of his chocolate milk. The milk is now “tainted” by bubbles, accursed bubbles which, apparently, are the bane of his current existence. At least, that’s the magnitude of his reaction… to put it lightly…. Like foam. Pun intended, and explained. You’re welcome. So, how did I diffuse “the bomb”? I got a second cup and gently poured from cup to cup, removing the foam as I went until I could get the foam back into the original cup sans foam. Like I said, I’m awesome. To make this feat even more amazing, I interpreted that the bubbles were the problem from this little boy screaming “NO! IT’S GREENER!” Would you know what that meant? Well. No. You wouldn’t, but then again, you don’t possess telepathy like I do. Like I said: I’m Super-Mom. Don’t feel bad. I came by my powers by accidentally stepping into radioactive waste at our local power plant. They have since cleaned it up, so, unfortunately for you, there isn’t any left. Too bad. I could use a good side-kick every once in a while.

What are your “super-mom” powers? (Okay, super dads are also welcome to participate.)

Re-think Autism… please.

This video was posted by a fellow mom-blogger, @Inner Aspie and deserves a repost. Adults with autism are everywhere. You probably don’t even realize that they are there because they are so much like you. Let’s stop ignoring what they have to say and LISTEN!! Maybe we’ll learn enough to create better outcomes for our kids living lives on the “spectrum.”

Rethinking Autism