Mama Be Good

The Locked Cathedral

2012-01-26T06:45:00.001-05:00

We visited the church my mom had attended as a girl. We walked up the steps to the arched double doors, the same steps where she had stood, smiling for photographs, with her parents, at a girlfriend's wedding. The doors were locked, so we went around the left towards another entrance. A young guy wearing a blazer and a backpack walked away from the side doors and toward us. "It's locked," he

I Had a Daddy

2012-01-25T07:02:00.001-05:00

My daddy left me. No, this didn't happen recently. It happened when I was nine. I think. I don't remember much of my childhood. Oh, sure, I remember some pieces. I think. I remember my phone number, my address, my house, my activities, my school. Hey, maybe I do remember lot of my childhood. The thing is my dad left me. When I was nine. And you'd think I would remember the details.

Therapy Mom: Parenting Approach to Autism

2012-01-24T07:02:00.004-05:00

I was very sure about my parenting choices before I gave birth. That's what you get with inexperience and certainty. I had decided, in a grandiose thumbed-nose to fate, that I would give no medicines to my child, not even an aspirin, (index finger pointed heavenward) to ensure his pure, organic health. You can guess what happened, right? My son was born with a life-threatening illness that

Constant Questions

2012-01-23T07:02:00.002-05:00

"Why does Uncle Billy smoke?" "Why did a tornado come through downtown?" "Why do you have a meeting?" "What would happen if I shot the neighbor?" "What would happen if I sawed off someone's foot?" Jack asks questions. Over and over. He'll ask the same question repeatedly and with variations. He's very good at formulating questions. Most of the time, it sounds like he wants the facts. "Why

"Picky Eater": Dismissing A Child's Experience

2012-01-18T11:50:00.000-05:00

I ping between the kitchen counter, the stove, and the microwave. After I gather cup, bowl of cucumbers, and a spoon, I announce, "Okay, let's sit down!" At the table, I nonchalantly push the spoon toward Jack. Me: Here you go. Jack, irritated: You feed me! See, Jack is diagnosed with autism and when he turned six, I got this crazy idea that if I just had the right utensils, then he'd be able

Why

2012-01-17T07:02:00.001-05:00

Jack follows my uncle out the front door to his car parked in the driveway. Someone's headed to a car? Jack is all over that. It might even start up. Uncle Billy climbs in the driver's seat, clunks the door closed, and rolls a window down. Jack, through the window: Why are you in your car? Billy, gruffly: I'm listenin' to the game. Go tell your Mom it's 27-25. Jack runs toward me as I head

Misbehavior Is

2012-01-16T07:17:00.000-05:00

A stray cat shows up on our back porch. A black, long-haired sweetheart of a cat. Just like fifteen years ago, when another black, long-haired sweetheart of a cat showed up on our back porch, one who's stayed with us. That cat was Luca, who's a lover. And he's also Jack's best buddy. So when another black, long-haired sweetheart of a cat shows up and needs someone, I thought, aw, we have to

Laughing Makes You Sexy

2012-01-13T07:02:00.003-05:00

I need a little bit of lightness today - understatement of the year. So I'm gonna share some videos that make me laugh. Maybe this will be my new holiday tradition. er ... maybe not. My track record for holidays is not looking good. I'll remind you of the same thing I'm telling myself. Laugh more. Laughing makes you sexy/happy/rich. You know it does. I've had this one stuck in my head

Heart of Hearing

2012-01-11T07:02:00.000-05:00

Dear Self: Hi, sweetheart, it's me, Me. I know we have a lot on our mind. I know you've been running in place as fast as you can, just trying to keep up. So, right now, I want you to take a minute. Breathe in through your nose. No, don't just think it, do it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Now relax those muscles in your face. And relax them one more time. So, sweetie,

Mamas Against Drama

2012-01-10T07:17:00.000-05:00

I'm posting over at Mamas Against Drama today. If you're looking for support not lectures from your fellow mamas, if you'd rather have a cocktail than compete with each other, then you're a Mama Against Drama. Go over and meet my friends Sarah and Shannon. They have chocolate. And great laughs. >>>>Click here.<<<< No stares, no unsolicited advice. I promise.

Strong Emotions: I Can't Handle the Truth

2012-01-09T08:43:00.002-05:00

I don't know about your house, but in my house, the strong emotions are raining down. Maybe it's the season. There was all that stress of anticipating presents, as if Jack was holding his breath for weeks and couldn't breathe. Then there's the stress of large crowds talking, laughing, opening presents. Then there's the limited time we have to get outside and play. So we're having lots of

Contact

2012-01-06T08:29:00.002-05:00

Me: I wonder which door we should go in. There's the side door to the kitchen. Let's go up the front steps. Jack and I bump our way up the narrow steps, hand in hand, to the front door landing. We are visiting the Mallards, parents of my husband's boyhood friend. They've known Jack since he was a baby. They are as attentive and generous as grandparents, remembering every important event

It Looks Like

2012-01-04T13:42:00.000-05:00

Jack and I have had a day. In a long line of days like this. And after all these days of struggling, intense emotions, too much everything, and tummy problems, I need to tell Jack something. I need him to know this. Me: Jack, you know when I was mad about not being able to go outside and pet the stray kitty? Listen. I know this makes me sound like I'm seven years old. But it was just the

Riding the Waves

2012-01-01T12:08:00.000-05:00

Most of the time I keep my head above water. But not now. Not now. I bounce between Jack's schedule and his breakdowns. Prepare his meals, dress him, find his glasses. Feed him, take him to the bathroom, find his glasses. Get him dressed again. Navigate the rockiness. Calm the breakdown. Get dinner ready. And, oh, the breakdowns. Fast and furious. He's angry, frustrated. He can't

The Self-Soothing Myth & Autism

2011-12-19T07:02:00.023-05:00

There's a popular child-rearing theory that says parents should teach a child to self-soothe. The theory suggests that, after a baby's basic needs are met, a parent shouldn't respond to every cry because that will reinforce bad behavior. Parents are told to let a baby cry it out, particularly at night, so that he will realize that he can soothe himself. This self-soothing is said to promote

If I Could See

2011-12-15T07:02:00.000-05:00

N.B.: You may not want to read this post during breakfast. It involves bodily functions. I'll try to go light on the details, but I'm just gonna have to say the word "poo." Gah, I just used "poo" in the same paragraph as breakfast. GAH! I just used it in the same sentence! It all started with the anxiety of our Thanksgiving trip. If you missed it, you can read about it here and here.

We Have Each Other

2011-12-14T14:21:00.002-05:00

On Monday, I wrote this: Autism has not ruined my life. I must have hit on something. Because I got the most wonderful outpouring of love from mamas and dads and adults who feel the same. And I got that feeling again. The one I get when I realize there's an army of people standing with me, shoulder to shoulder, supporting each other. The feeling I get when one of us leans just a little or

Shocking News: Autism Has Not Ruined My Life

2011-12-12T07:02:00.042-05:00

I found out recently that someone I love dearly doesn't read my blog anymore because it's too sad. I stopped for a minute. Is it true? Are my posts sad? I am not at all concerned about losing a reader, though I am worried about losing a friend. And I'm concerned about my child's life and the lives of others diagnosed with autism. So I had to ask the question: Are my posts sad? I'm not

Food and Parenting

2011-12-09T07:02:00.002-05:00

My son has had sensitivity to foods since he was born. Our first big hurdle was milk and soy intolerance, accompanied by reflux. Every time he fed, he cried. It was awful. He's added new foods as he's grown. A lot of some, like dairy. Just a little of others, like chocolate or hard-boiled egg. Other food experiments have not gone so well. Nuts, oranges, corn, raisins, tomato sauce (but

Not Expressing Distress ≠ Not Feeling Distress

2011-12-08T07:02:00.025-05:00

Holidays have always meant a lot to me. I have a large extended family, both mine and my husband's. The food is always delicious. I love talking to everyone. Since Jack's diagnosis, though, we've come to understand how much anxiety these gatherings cause Jack. So we've chosen one gathering here, but not there. Visiting here this time, there next time. Not traveling at all. Pruning

Peace Not War

2011-12-07T07:02:00.000-05:00

Daddy: So, then John F. Kennedy told Cuba to send the missiles back to the Soviet Union. Jack: Maybe he could tell them instead of missiles, have mistletoe! ****

Brilliant - And Not Just 'Cause He's Mine

2011-12-06T07:02:00.002-05:00

Jack: What kind of fireplace is it, Nana? Gas? Nana: No, it looks like coal, but it plugs in. Jack: Hybrid. ****

Parents and Sons' Emotions: Stop Crying

2011-12-05T07:02:00.007-05:00

Jack and I stopped at a fast-food restaurant while trekking to Thanksgiving spots. I balanced a tray of salad, fries, and chicken in one hand, jiggled a soda with the other, herded Jack with my elbow, and pushed the door open with my bottom. We found a table outside, away from the low ceilings that bounce noises. Jack can eat better away from the noise and standing up. Across at another

Words That Hurt: Behavioral Terminology

2011-12-02T09:11:00.000-05:00

So there I was caught in the prickly thorns. I wanted a shower. Meanwhile, my son was doing mischief: strewing garbage, upsetting water bowls, disturbing cats, hurling toys. He's out of sorts. Not enough sleep, too much travel, and he needs some play, some one-on-one fun time to refill his reservoir.. I sat down on the floor to play farmer and farmhand. Guess who's the farmhand. The farmer

Choose Love

2011-12-01T06:56:00.000-05:00

I cannot be in a constant state of perfection. My soul has rough edges. The days have prickly thorns. But I get through the ups and downs, hoping that I treat the rough patches with grace and love. If life gives me a choice between anger and love, I hope I choose love. Like this morning. When all I wanted was to squeeze in a snack for my son and a shower for me. Okay and some make-up

Sleep and Science

2011-11-30T08:15:00.000-05:00

We were up again this morning. Early. Around 3 a.m. Jack's thinking about something. Something exciting, worrisome, or frightening. And he just can't get back to sleep. He tries, but eventually we both know when it's beyond possible. We get up together and watch a show, a twenty-minute cartoon, one he's watched many times. Sometimes we can go back to bed and to sleep. Sometimes we

Someone Safe

2011-11-29T07:02:00.002-05:00

People talk, but he can't understand their words. A group talking makes indecipherable bleats, just noises. He looks at people's shoes, so he doesn't have to look in their faces. That would mean being slammed with emotion and information, too much to bear, so he looks down. He needs to find someone safe to be with, so he keeps walking. He hunches through rooms, out to the back porch,

Thankful Thinking

2011-11-23T08:19:00.000-05:00

Jack and I are out visiting family, so I don't have much time. We've had good surprises - a boat engine, a Japanese lantern, a houseful of tiny hand sanitizer bottles, baby's hair, a driveway full of cars, and a drive-thru full of Harleys. And we've had bad surprises - a cold, unexpected clapping, a spontaneous happy birthday song from a crowd of people, a few Scroogy refusals of a child's

Facing My Fears: Missing Out

2011-11-16T07:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, so you came back. Fear is bringing it. I started wrestling with my fears on Thursday, Friday took on fear of being different, and yesterday I talked about the fear that my child wouldn't learn. This stuff is hard. Before I get on to the next one, Sharon, thank you for the extra butter. I love you. Alright, alright. I'll stop stalling. 4. "He will miss out." I'm not gonna pretty

Facing My Fears: Learning

2011-11-14T07:03:00.010-05:00

Back? Good. I'm talking about scary things. And, apparently, I can't stop. It all started with Thursday's post on fears about my child and continued with Friday's fear of being different. Today, it's on to the next fear. Yippee. 3. "He won't learn." I have this image in my head whenever anyone says "learning." Learning means a teacher standing in front of students, who are sitting

Facing My Fears: Different

2011-11-11T07:03:00.051-05:00

In yesterday's post, I talked about my fears about my child. That the hurt I felt about his situation was really about me and my fears. Fears that come from my old injuries from my childhood, teen years, or workplace difficulties. I talked about old baggage and how the words I use influence my perspective. But I wasn't letting myself off with that alone. Maybe it's "He'll feel different from

Facing My Fears

2011-11-10T07:22:00.000-05:00

When Jack was younger, strangers would sometimes ask him, "What grade are you in?" My heart would hurt and I'd respond, "He's not in school yet." No mistaking, it was MY hurt. Jack is perfectly fine with not going to school. His memory of school is one of anxiety, sadness, panic, isolation, inability to communicate. It's my wound, my scar that I haven't addressed, my fears making me

What Would You Do in a Risk of Harm Situation?

2011-11-09T11:23:00.000-05:00

Your child is in crisis. He's threatening harm to himself, to you. You've exhausted all the things that usually work. You're out of ideas and out of people to call. What do you do? I just heard about a crisis intervention service offered through the state of Georgia called the GCRS-DD, the Georgia Crisis Response System for Individuals with Developmental Disabilities. If a

God Talk

2011-11-08T06:58:00.001-05:00

Jack: Can God see everything? Me: Yes, He can. Jack: You mean ... He can see the outside of our windows here? Me: He can even see right here inside the room. Jack: What? Me: Yes, He can see in our house, in Jake and Chloe's house, everywhere. Jack: Even New Jersey? I swear. I don't know where he gets these things. **** Jack: Are there edges to heaven? Me: No ... what do you mean? Jack: That

Cheering Them On

2011-11-07T09:42:00.001-05:00

I was working on a post yesterday and I was gonna publish it today, but I got a little distracted. Okay, a lot distracted. See, I checked in with my friends on Facebook and Twitter (first mistake, right?) and I was drawn in. Two friends of friends, MomtoBoyWonder and Luau, (unrelated to each other) were running the New York City Marathon yesterday to raise awareness and funds for autism

Noises in the Night

2011-11-04T07:46:00.000-04:00

Behind the dusty blue curtain of Jack's bedroom, behind the tall windows, a steady rain falls. Jack sits in his black skull pajamas, his feet tucked under him. Jack: I used to be scared of lightening? He's worrying that this will be a thunderstorm. Me: There won't be any lightening with this storm. This is just one of those gentle, steady rains that fall all night. I like this sound. You

Halloween is No Holiday

2011-11-03T07:03:00.001-04:00

You'd think I'd know that Halloween would be rough on my child. We had the incident of going to the mattresses two years ago. And the Daylight Savings Time Disaster last year. Two years ago, I knew it was anxiety and autism because I could hear his non-stop garage noises. Last year, I thought it was reflux and lack of sleep. This year, do I get it? Do I finally understand? Jack was looking

Let Him Sleep

2011-10-31T07:03:00.006-04:00

When Jack was a baby, I made bargains with the clock. If I rocked him for twenty-three minutes, then for sure he'd be asleep and I could put him down in his crib. I'd stand up from the rocking chair and slowly make my way to the crib where he would startle himself awake. Back to the rocking chair. Okay, so if I rock him for eight more minutes. I desperately wanted him to fall asleep. I

She's a Saint

2011-10-26T07:03:00.004-04:00

Jack brings in a rush of air from the back door. He places a small ceramic figure, his latest gift shop purchase, on the table. Jack: Here's St. Rita of the actual boo-boo! Me: Yep. St. Rita of the perpetual boo-boo. She always has a boo-boo. Jack: And she's dead! Just so you know. ****

Can't I Stay Here?

2011-10-26T07:03:00.002-04:00

When Jack was younger and we went out into the world, he focused on doors. The path to the vet's office was lined with doors. Our front door, the car doors, the tiny door on the cat carrier. The door into the building, the door from the waiting room to the hall, the doors to the examining rooms. He watched them open all the way and close all the way. He couldn't see people. He was

The Cost of Me Time

2011-10-24T07:03:00.009-04:00

I go to a meeting once a month. It's not as often as I need, but it's as often as I can. I guess officially it's an autism parents support group, but really it's a group of friends, husbands and wives. We met because of our kids, but we stay together because of us. We laugh a lot. We eat dinner, we order cocktails, and we swap stories. We don't worry about explaining or justifying. It's

Dear Eat Local Movement: Kick Me

2011-10-21T07:03:00.002-04:00

We have a neighborhood farmer's market. It's amazing, vibrant, and crowded. They have local fresh corn, salad mixes, peppers, pumpkins, cheeses, bread, yogurt, tarts, you name it. Chefs cook up yumminess to order and on the spot: crepes, woodfire pizzas, coffee. It's pure deliciousness. And yet .... I still didn't go. Yeah, yeah, I knew all the arguments in favor of eating local. Global

Dear (Name): About My Child's Behavior

2011-10-19T07:03:00.004-04:00

Dear Family Member / Teacher / Friend: It's hard for me to bring this up. I thought about not saying anything. I don't know if it's going to make you angry, upset, sad. I don't want to hurt you. But I need to say this. You know my child is diagnosed with autism and that he also has sensory processing disorder (SPD). Which means that he has a hard time communicating and that he gets

What Does "Cold, Cruel World" Really Mean?

2011-10-17T07:03:00.005-04:00

"It's a cold, cruel world. You can't protect your kid from it, so you'd better get them ready for it." I'd heard this parenting theory a lot since my child was diagnosed with autism. The thinking goes something like: the world is hard, so you better let your child experience the hardness to get him used to it. I've been trying to figure this thing out. Is it the world, the environment,

If You Don't Know What SPDBN Means ...

2011-10-12T07:43:00.000-04:00

I'm posting over at the Sensory Processing Disorder Bloggers Network today. SPD is part of Jack's experience with autism. Not everyone who has SPD has autism, but almost everyone who has autism has SPD. Jack got a truckload of it. My post talks about a brouhaha. But it's more about an ah-ha and an aw that came out of a brouhaha. SPDBN is a fantastic site, providing a place for parents to

Noodling

2011-10-10T07:03:00.002-04:00

I used to call noodles by their proper names. As in "It's spaghetti night," "Looks like I need more rotini," or "Yes, I'd LOVE lo mein." I'd sometimes say "pasta," as in "Is that pasta salad?," but only if I couldn't identify the kind of pasta. Except for ramen noodles. Those I've always called ramen noodles. Add some butter, a little soy sauce, and the magic seasoning. Mmm. My love

Crossed Wires

2011-10-07T15:26:00.000-04:00

I drop my armful of lollipops, prescriptions, vitamins, and a birthday card on the counter. Jack drops to his knees and sorts through the pill cases, pill splitters, and pill crushers. Me, handing her a car and whispering: I'm trying to hide this. Her: I understand. I have a two-year-old. What I meant: I'm doing early Christmas shopping. What she heard: I don't want my child to whine for

I'd Rather Be An Optimist

2011-10-05T13:32:00.000-04:00

I'd rather be an optimist. I like meeting the world with a smile, a heart open to other people and their ideas. I like feeling hopeful and confident. I like to think the best of people, that people are sincere and trying, even if they make mistakes. Sometimes a lot. I like to think that people learn from each other and that our best ideas come from interactions. I want my child to be eager

Appearing Now

2011-10-04T07:51:00.000-04:00

Jack sits in our clawfoot tub, warm water up to his tummy, driving a baby doll like a train around the tub's rim. I stand on the rug, toss my head upside down, and gather my hair in a ponytail. Jack: It's Saturday night. Me, singing: Oh, it's Saturday night and I ain't got no body! Jack, in a spooky voice: You're a ghost! We'll be here all week. ****

Say Hello

2011-10-03T07:03:00.000-04:00

Jack waited with his head down looking at the floor, lunging forward on his right foot, leaning back on his left. I stood behind him, looking up at the bulletin board, reading to myself: "Social groups, camps, oh, look! pediatric hippotherapy. I wonder what kinda shoes I'd wear to go horseback riding." Me: Hey, Jack, I can hear them coming to the door. I try to give him a heads up when I

Memories in Different Forms

2011-09-28T07:03:00.002-04:00

Jack and I pushed through the doors and passed the already-shuttered coffee shop where the blender used to drive him to the farthest corners of the bookstore. Many shelves were emptied, the bookshelves standing alone with hastily scribbled price tags, $100 ea. Me: Now, remember, I just want to see if they have any books we want. Jack: No cars. Me: Right. Books litter the floor of the

Charlie Brown Effect

2011-09-26T07:03:00.000-04:00

I talk to my son in that slightly higher voice that women use with babies or men use with dogs. My regular pitch is probably five notes lower and kinda sounds like this: "This case is distinguishable because the regulation serves alternative blah blah blah." Or even like this: "I love that shoe, but I have too many in that same style." But if you say the phrase, "Well, aren't you just the

Exit Quickly

2011-09-23T07:03:00.002-04:00

I pull open the glass door and let Jack walk on the blue carpet ahead of me. Saleslady: Can I help you, hon? Me: We're here to pick up Jack's glasses. Mike, out of sight: I'm just finishing up with them! Be a few minutes! Saleslady: Just have a seat at his station. I pause momentarily in front of six chairs lined up facing different directions. I choose one that may or may not be Mike's

Notes On Being a Boy

2011-09-21T07:04:00.002-04:00

I've learned a lot about being a boy from my son. Like this: a peepee doesn't have to be held like a garden hose. It doesn't even have to be held between finger and thumb like a tiny fire hose. You can just push forward on the whole package. Sometimes you can just stand there and swivel to aim it in. Or you don't have to aim it at all and it goes in anyway. Sometimes you hold it just

Eating, Not Eating: Autism Clues

2011-09-19T07:03:00.001-04:00

Jack never says he's hungry. Ever. He never feels hunger. He feels tired when he needs to eat. He yawns. But he doesn't feel hungry. He's always been underweight, not just off the charts, under the dang chart. I don't care about size, about him being small for his size, what the average kid weighs, all that social stuff. But there are health risks for being underweight, too, like heart

Sound of Air

2011-09-14T11:56:00.000-04:00

Jack cried a lot as a baby. He had tummy pain almost all the time. Reflux, milk allergy, soy allergy all made him miserable. Just feeding was painful for him, until we got the problems figured out. Anyone telling me at that time about the wonderful peacefulness of breastfeeding or of bottlefeeding a baby was likely to get a whack upside the head. So I'd do a lot of walking, distracting, and

Autism Does Not Cause Killer Kids

2011-09-12T07:03:00.001-04:00

Gevin Prince was fourteen years old. Brown-haired and big for his age, Gevin lived with his great-grandmother and grandmother in Douglas County, Georgia, a suburban area just west of Atlanta. His grandmother said that when she told Gevin he couldn't use the computer, Gevin grabbed a knife and stabbed his great-grandmother thirty times. When police arrived, Gevin was outside the house holding

Boxed Up Choices

2011-09-05T07:03:00.007-04:00

I like to think. I like reading about parenting, child development, the brain, politics, the human animal, education, culture, history, and religion. I like writing. I like talking about big ideas, politics, legal issues, and social issues. But. I also like shoes. I like high heels. I like my new orangey nail polish. I like the artistry of applying makeup. I love the product that made

Zen Tales: How I Let Go of Yelling, Kinda

2011-09-01T07:03:00.001-04:00

We were having ourselves a day. Jack had been up for three hours the night before. We had a busy week, visiting new places, going to the dentist. He was tired. I was tired. And, as we all know, crabby Mama, craptastic day. So, Jack and I stayed at home, doing things to wind down, reorganize, and re-energize. Like tickling, kicking the air mattress in frustration, letting some tears out,

Happy Time Will Begin In ...

2011-08-29T16:10:00.000-04:00

http://kobilevidesign.blogspot.com/ It's good to know what makes you happy. Steve Madden at dsw.com It's even better to have time for it. I'm lucky. I know what makes me happy. Shoes. Writing. Discovering with my child. Time alone with my husband. Vacationing with my family. Laughing with my friends. Dancing like I don't care. Good food and drink. Or rather, inexpensive

Relating

2011-08-25T07:01:00.161-04:00

At the end of the cashier's counter of the supermarket stands a bagger who is not Miss Lynn. Jack looks her up and down. Jack: Something's wrong with your eye. Jacqueline: Yeah, my eyes don't work very well, so they look kinda funny, don't they. You're a smart boy. Me: Jacqueline has problems seeing, honey. Jacqueline: That's right. The muscles in my eyes don't work very good. Me: Jack has to

To Market, To Market

2011-08-23T07:06:00.003-04:00

I wouldn't say that Jack enjoys the supermarket, but we are there a lot. And since we're there, we might as well make the best of it, chat some people up, find out what cars they drive. You know, personal information they wouldn't reveal, but for a cute little curly-headed boy asking. Some of the workers there have known Jack since he was a baby. Like Miss Lynn, who tries the hardest of any

Hit Reset

2011-08-20T09:35:00.000-04:00

I pick up Jack's red pajama top, the one with the skull, and pull it over his wet hair and onto his arms. He climbs up on the bed, finds the tag on his blankie, holds it up to his nose, then puts his fingers in his mouth to get a few seconds of sucking. After turning on his night-night music and the white noise, both since we live in the city, I sit on the end of the bed. Jack knee-walks on

Running

2011-08-17T16:07:00.000-04:00

Parenting. Just when you have one thing figured out, the next thing shows up. Remember when you finally got the baby thing figured out and something new came up? Like the baby started eating solid foods. Or not taking a nap. Or he had to start physical therapy. You know. Something like that. So I figured out what the throwing means and now it's the run-pacing. Jack runs back and forth,

Start Up Sounds

2011-08-15T16:03:00.000-04:00

We're on the front porch enjoying an unexpected preview of autumn. Jack's pretending to start up vehicles. He starts up his tricycle, Daddy's bike, anything that moves. Suddenly, the tzeetzeetzeetzeetzeet of cicada songs flare up. Jack: The sky just started up! He pauses, listening. Jack: What was that actuawy? ****

Goofy Juice

2011-08-11T08:04:00.000-04:00

Nota Bene: I am not offering medical advice nor expertise. All the opinions are my own based on personal observation. Seek professional advice when considering medications. Et cetera. I hate Versed. Jack had an upper GI endoscopy. We had a logistics problem though. Jack is my anxious, anxious child. And? I'm not allowed in the OR. Some crazy idea about germs. I did ask and I

Living With Each Other

2011-08-09T16:36:00.000-04:00

I got to reading posts in Kristina Chew's blog "We Go With Him." It's easy to get lost in her blog. She's been writing about her son Charlie, now a teenager, for a long time. She's very readable. And I love her perspective. And I always feel like I just spent a day with her. In the comments of one of her posts, a reader asked what to do about the 30-year-old man who is diagnosed with

Seven Levels of Evil

2011-08-05T07:03:00.001-04:00

Jack and I have been reading the classics: Hansel and Gretel, Cinderella, and Snow White. We don't sugarcoat them. The stepmother really does want the kids to die. The witch really does want to eat them. The stepmother really doesn't want Cinderella to go to the ball. And the stepmother really does want to kill Snow White. Jack loves fairy tales. We read them over and over. He might pick

Private Parts

2011-08-03T16:52:00.000-04:00

Gearing up for Jack's annual check-up at the pediatrician, I had to reassure him over and over. No, there won't be any shots. The nurse will call your name. We'll go back and get weighed and measured. The nurse will take your blood pressure. And you'll have to get a finger stick to check your blood. Then the doctor will come in, check your ears, your mouth, and your heart. Then I'll be

The Data Myth

2011-08-01T09:36:00.001-04:00