March 08, 2010 @ 06:37

Work is kicking my butt.  The gym is, too, without the benefit of any measurable results.  Boo.  But I am still finding myself in a very happy place.  Perhaps it is finding out that you have handy friends who are happy to come and replace the eaves on your house that turns out rotted because, no, Sara, the magical air conditioner didn’t just stop needing to drain out that mysterious little pipe on the front porch.  Or fix the deadbolt on the back door that, no, Sara, you should not have repaired with that leftover tile grout.  And cut a proper hole in the side of the house and venting the dryer as it should’ve been when you moved into the house . . .  seven years ago, because no, Sara, out the window of the sun porch was really really tacky.  And there’s a laundry list of things that Spring is making happen at my house and I’m over the moon happy for it.  Because I am not good at that sort of thing.  At.  All.  I pride myself on being a far from girly girl.  But this, I gotta admit, I don’t got.  Now, this Sarah?  She does.  She is handy and girly and I am jealous.  She’s the kind of woman that could serve high tea if needed, more likely to make you Jell-O shots for your birthday, who owns kitten heels but also owns a tractor.  She is also the supplier of this past week’s quote for the quote challenge.  “It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help.” – Judith Martin (also known as Miss Manners) And this was hard.  Hard enough that I just flat didn’t get it done.  And I am sad at me for that.  And glad for Sarah’s patience (oh and also for her not feeling it so much either . . .  and Cormac . . .  only Kat really rose to the occasion).  Perhaps my response to the quote directly could just be a quick thought . . . 

Wouldn’t it be fun if you won the lottery and didn’t tell anybody?  Just started delivering fantastical things to people’s doors anonymously?  A few years ago when I was in a very bad place financially, I came home to find an envelope on my back door with the exact dollar amount that I needed to pay a looming bill.  Now obviously it was someone I knew because of the dollar amount, but to this day, I don’t know who.  It had a lovely note inside with a poem about the bill and how much they liked me.  What a great day, huh?  I am still moved to tears and so grateful whenever I think of that day.  So what would you do if you suddenly had the means to be Secret Santa everyday?  That would be a great good quality to keep under your hat . . . 

March 01, 2010 @ 13:29

“There’s a sort of greatness to your lateness.” Fi

“Thanks.  It’s not achieved without real suffering.”  Charles, Four Weddings and a Funeral

I completely flaked on my own quote.  But not for lack of things to say.  I’m afraid I was slapped in the face last week by something.  And I let it get me down.  But I’m back up again.  Thanks.  I’ve always been jealous of those people who are not slightened by the idea that “not everyone can like you”.  Those people who walk around all casually secure and firmly seated in their uniqueness and not bothered one bit by what wagging tongues may be saying about them.  Suppose it is somewhat related to what I had to say.  And here it is . . . 

The quote:  “Never put a sock in a toaster.”  Eddie Izzard

Puppy is becoming more and more of his own little man every day.  He mostly seems to be sailing along about two scant years behind his peers in social maturity.  Some days he is a tight little ball of uncontrolled boy.  Sometimes that is happy boy.  Sometimes it is something more like a cornered animal.  Not very often, but it’s there.  But what I am finding is that he is, even when he is out of sorts, happy.  There are things that set him off.  But they are no more frequent than those of a typical child.  He is however, a mystery to those who don’t know him.  What sets him to spinning is not typical. 

Being interrupted, whether it’s while arranging a line of trains or something less fun, like homework.  He just won’t process what you have to say to him until you let him finish the train.  Or his sentence.  Or his drawing.  He’s like a little computer.  If you ask him to run too many programs at once, his processes will be compromised. 

The way loud noises frighten him, even when he knows they are coming, causing him sometimes to double over cringeing, hands cupped over his ears, as if in physical pain. 

The way he will walk into a room and address its occupants as if they were only staged there, like a set in a play, awaiting his entrance for all action to begin. 

And none of these actions are contrived.  No bids for attention.  No manipulation.  No passive aggression.  He is a blank slate in those areas.  He is innocent of those drives.  He is guileless.  He is actually happier with no audience at all.  He will play alone for hours.  Content.  And this is where my mind has trouble adjusting.  Where I am afraid he is lonely, he seems to be complete in himself, with little need for companionship.  Although I am grateful for the way he does seem to love me, Bear, and a handful of our friends and family.  I am coming to understand that love, for him, is very different than others might define it.  Emotionally we are so different.  Where I may be filled with emotion during a hiking trip, over the beauty of it all, he is more likely counting the steps it takes to reach the path’s end.  While I may be excited over the first ripe peaches of the season, he is annoyed to be pulled away from his projects and made to eat.  Where we may be emotional, he is factual.  So we struggle with how to raise him to be healthy and happy when we are still figuring out how he defines his happy.  Healthy, however, we are getting better at. 

I had a friend who used to tell me all the time that there was nothing wrong with him.  In that tone.  You know, that tone that says, “There’s nothing wrong with that boy that a whippin’ wouldn’t fix.  You are just a bad mother.  If he was mine . . .  “  The woman was right.  And also dead wrong.  There IS, in fact, NOTHING WRONG with my boy.  But there is definitely something different.  This is our daily challenge right now.  That we are different.  And that our educational system does not embrace different, not as a general rule . . .  You know how they want all of our kids to be neatly sliced white bread.  But sorry, my kid is a sock . . .  So when all of that is the norm, and we are not.  And all of the classes and schedules and programs are built around making toast, here we are with a sock.  I am so very grateful to the school district we live in.  They have gone above my expectations, and even my hopes, for what public school was going to be like for Puppy.  We have teachers that are engaged.  Who are not put out at being asked to work a sock into all the toast.  We are coming towards the end of our second year.  Another year of social blunders and embarassing stories.  But at the end of the day, maybe they aren’t embarassing.  Because why would a sock feel judged in all his socky glory about not being good at becoming toast? 

February 22, 2010 @ 06:04

But happy nonetheless.  Thank you Cormac for the challenge.  And I particularly enjoyed what you had to say about last week’s quote. 

I joined a gym last week.  With a couple of friends, another to join soon.  It’s been very nice so far.  But I’m still smack in the middle of my plateau.  Worked out six out of the last seven days and lost not one pound.  Miles:  12, Hours of other fitness pursuits:  4, Pounds lost:  0?  hmmm . . .   No matter.  I do, at the least, feel good. 

So this week, for the quote challenge, I’m throwing out this one.  For fun . . .  or existentiality . . .  or all seriousness . . .  or fun . . . 

“Never put a sock in a toaster.”
 Eddie Izzard

 And I tag, Sarah. 

February 19, 2010 @ 06:22

For this weeks quote challenge, Cormac give us this . . .  “Sometimes it’s better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness” Terry Pratchet. 

It’s funny that just last week Bear was telling me something about Discworld and looking at me with disbelief that I had no idea what he was talking about.  So my first thoughts on this are not colored in any way by having read Terry Pratchet.  I am curious now about the quote’s context, but for today . . . let’s just wallow for a minute, k?  

I have a favorite song for tough times.  At first it may seem angry, but it’s not.  It’s about shaking off what is wasteful, or hurtful, what is unproductive, what is toxic.  Sometimes that’s as simple as “Girl!  Do not buy those pants.  I don’t care if they are on sale for five dollah.”  Or it might be giving up caffiene, sugar, cigarettes.  Tough.  But what about when it is the very painful necessity of ending a relationship?  And you aren’t going to be the only one that is hurt.  Maybe you know you can’t go on the way you have in the past.  But you do love that person.  But you can’t be what they need.  And you continually find yourself in that viscious cycle.  Of caving in to their needs.  Of loving them so much that you don’t know how to tell them no.  Of watching them fall again and again and being there for them when they reach up their hand and ask for help up.  And hating yourself for it.  Because what they need is more than you have to give.  And what they get from you is just a patch, not a real solution.  Or finding yourself continually lost in the image that someone has of the girl they believe you to be.  Maybe you helped them form that idea.  Maybe not.  But you know that they don’t know you at all.  Not really.  And you can find yourself stuck in those relationships.  Out of guilt.  Out of a genuine desire to be there for someone.  Out of comfort.  Laziness.  Fear. 

That’s no good for anyone.  And what can you do when you realize that you are part of the problem.  Laying there in the darkness and wishing things were better but never knowing what could make it better?  So sometimes you have to just walk away.  And that doesn’t mean that the minute your back is turned that you are done.  You still love them.  You still want the best for them.  But you know that what is best for them is not you.  And you know that the right thing to do is keep walking.  No matter how much it hurts.  Them.  Or you.  You burn it down.  So that when the hurting is over the healing can begin.  And if you are really lucky, you remember that the next time around. 

February 18, 2010 @ 21:32

For Gracie, who is four.  Beside the plate it will be served on, to match of course.  And I can’t help but notice, that MY horse is fat . . .  oh, subconcious me, thou art a heartless bitch . . . 

February 16, 2010 @ 22:03

Warning, this story is not particularly . . .  G rated?  It’s not too ugly, but . . .  well, you remember Ralphie and the Queen Mother of all swear words in A Christmas Story?  Yeah, it’s like that. 

Early Monday morning, Puppy came running into my room as I was folding laundry to tell me about a new magical creature he had just discovered in his Harry Potter game.  Now, Puppy has become a really great reader.  And frequently he reads a new word by sounding it out and just plows on through, not bothering to ask if he’s right about the new word or not.  That was the case here.  Super excited about his new acquisition he comes running into the room and is telling me, at about nintey words a minute that he has a new creature and it is a “Magical C#^T!”  Are you with me on what that word was that he was nearly shouting at me?  The creature was actually called a knut.  He transposed the N and the U.  Sound it out . . .  uh huh . . .  Now are you with me? 

Yeah. 

So we spent several minutes with me explaining very emphatically that he had read that word wrong and that he must never ever ever EVER say that wrong word again because it was a very bad word.  And that the word he had read was actually pronounced newt!  And we talked about how a K and an N together make the N sound just like in the word “know” and NEVER say that other word again.  And isn’t newt a funny sounding word and NEVER say that other word again.  And what an awesome new magical creature that magical knut was and NEVER say that other word again.  I felt fairly confident that I had made my point. 

Yeah. 

Flash forward several hours to our afternoon haircut appointment.  Puppy is in the chair getting his haircut and our stylist is a very nice mommy and he is talking ninety miles an hour about his DS games and Kirby and Mariokart and Harry Potter and without breaking stride, or even taking a breath I think, he says “And you must never say C#^T because that is a bad word!”

And then as I have an existential experience, become dizzy and learn the full meaning of the word apoplectic, he just keeps on talking.  And meanwhile every other person in the place, and there were at least half a dozen, freeze, look at me, and then die laughing.  I haven’t been that mortified in so long.  Probably not since my Dad “accidentally” taught Bear how to say “S#%T”. 

Yeah. 

All I can say is, thank god I get our hair cut in a place full of women that are moms and that have a good sense of humor. 

February 11, 2010 @ 21:35 

 Just finished making cupcakes to send over to the Humane Society of Faulkner County’s Chocoholics Dream Night Out.  If you are from around here, you should go.  Chocolate and a good cause?  Heck yeah! 

February 12, 2010

Where: First Presbyterian Church on Prince Street in Conway

When: Friday, February 12 from 5:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. 

Details: Hosted by the Faulkner County Humane Society.  The event features a silent auction, a buffet of chocolate dishes, animals available for adoption from the HSFC and an area for children. 

Admission is $15, or $25 for two, for the all you can eat chocolate buffet.

February 10, 2010 @ 20:12 

“Experience teaches us that silence terrifies people the most.” ~ Bob Dylan

In response to Kat and the quote challenge . . . 

You’ve probably noticed how I haven’t had too much to say about Puppy’s progress lately.  It isn’t because of setbacks.  We’re not white knuckling it here at our house.  We are in a strange holding pattern.  I feel like a rabbit in the underbrush.  I’m pretty sure there are still wolves out there.  But right now we are cozy and safe.  I don’t wake up in the middle of the night with my heart thumping against my ribs after dreaming of driving a car that is out of control.  Cake and fat nightmares aside.  Cars are my subconcious tell.  I dream of out of control driving when I’m out of control in real life.  Cars, trucks, planes, towering four-story unicycles.  Oh, yeah, really. But not lately.  That is the way things play out for me when I am under real stress.  But for the moment, we are feeling very safe.  And this leaves the concious me feeling as if I should be doing something more.  Next week we’ll be going in for a nutritional study.  We are participating in a genome project as well.  We are due for a check up with our Autism specialist in just a couple of weeks, too.  None of which is giving me pause.  Which . . .  gives me pause.  Isn’t that rich?  We are so completely happy and well right now that . . .  I am scared.  Does that make sense at all?  I complete our trio nicely, Puppy, Bear and Goose. 

I am feeling the way you do when you start a new job.  And you’ve read all the training manuals.  And you feel as if you have a really good handle on what is in store and what to do in all the situations that have been described to you.   But you haven’t been set free on the work just yet.  And you know that the real test will come when you are.  And you are waiting for it.  And feeling a bit useless while you wait.  So you begin to second guess yourself?  Or that feeling you get as you stand in the batters box and watch that first pitch coming at you?  As a pretty non-athletic girl, that’s a moment full of angst. 

Lately, if I am losing sleep it’s because of a sore shoulder or Puppy having a restless night.  Not because of great big worries.  And now that is beginning to turn into a worry.  As if I’ve missed something.  As if I’ve shirked some duty.  Shouldn’t I be doing something more? Enough already with the no problems.  I don’t know what to do with that. 

Perhaps there is a way for me to just enjoy this really good place we are in right now.  Before the kids in his class get older and meaner.  Before the quirks of his behavior begin to stand out.  Make him an outsider.  Perhaps there is a way for me to just appreciate his sweet sweet face every day and not have that twist of pain in my heart and that sting of tears from the fear of what may be just outside our door.  I read somewhere that fears and negative emotions may actually be an evolutionary strength.  But it certainly sucks the joy out, doesn’t it?  I spend a lot of energy trying to anticipate things that could hurt my boys.  Not just Puppy.  Bear, too.  But sometimes I wonder if all my careful arranging of what is in their paths isn’t just futile.  Me setting up dominoes.  That are bound to fall.  When what might serve us all so much better would be for Mommy to be able to be at peace when the rest of our world is. 

February 03, 2010 @ 10:15

Can you believe there is more snow in the forecast for us?  It has been so surreal driving around town with snow on rooftops and lingering snowmen that haven’t completely melted yet.  We just don’t get snow that lingers down South.  It’s beautiful.  Although, I gotta admit I’m getting a little tired of the mushy yard . . . 

The boys had a blast last week with the snowdays.  So I think I could get over mushy yard for more of this . . . 

The ambush . . . 

Doesn’t really look like a fair matchup does it? 

He didn’t seem to mind. 

Until Bear started making Bear-sized snowballs . . . 

And put one down Puppy’s hoodie . . . 

But mom knew just how to make it all better. 

February 02, 2010 @ 06:21

I’ve been having nightmares lately.  Nothing to really worry about.  My subconcious leads a very full and active life, that’s all.  I am a picture thinker so dreams have always been a constant.  I find people who never remember their dreams to be a curiosity.  The last couple of nights though I’ve dreamt about deep fried catfish and giant sandwiches with double cheese and cake and cake and cake.  I’ve hit a plateau in my weight loss.  I haven’t lost any weight in about three months.  I think.  I’m not going back in to check that on past posts because I don’t want to get obsessed.  Eating disorder recovery is a damned slippery slope when you can’t give up your demon 100%.  I could live without whiskey if I were an alcoholic.  But you gotta eat.  That’s part of why I get so enraged by the people who continually feed the disease.  The beauty, fashion, and diet/weight loss industries primarily.  I have had a dislike of the Special K commercials for a long time.  Ever since the one they ran that used the phrase “studies show that women who eat breakfast weigh less”.  You see the problem with that sentence?  Weigh less.  Less than what?  I weigh less I did at my highest, but I’m still not to my healthy goal yet.  But there are so many people suffering from eating disorders, many of whom will die from the disease, that weigh less than me.  Is that your winner statistic Special K?  Lose weight until you die?  You win, you weigh less!  Here are some other statistics: 

MORTALITY RATES

• Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness
• A study by the National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders reported that 5 – 10% of anorexics die within 10 years after contracting the disease; 18-20% of anorexics will be dead after 20 years and only 30 – 40% ever fully recover
• The mortality rate associated with anorexia nervosa is 12 times higher than the death rate of ALL causes of death for females 15 – 24 years old.
• 20% of people suffering from anorexia will prematurely die from complications related to their eating disorder, including suicide and heart problems

From : http://www.state.sc.us/dmh/anorexia/statistics.htm 

But whatever marketing company Kellogs uses has managed to top it in a way that I just can’t believe made it to the air.  Seriously, I don’t know exactly how many peole have to put a stamp of approval on an ad that costs that much money, but surely at least one person down that line raised an eyebrow.  The mom with the red robe after Christmas with the Santa butt commercial, it was funny.  But this one?  Irresponsible.  It features a woman who appears to be at a healthy weight sitting down with her daughter (way to follow through on the message there) in a child’s chair.  When she stands and it gets stuck on her behind, she immediately feels the need to diet.  Congratulations Special K, on being another contributor to the you aren’t good enough machine.  Little girls, and boys, too, thank you so very much.  I’m gonna go out and buy some more Kashi cereal today.