September 27, 2007 @ 16:46

I know it must seem like everything’s fine and then Bam!  I crack and here come the waterworks.  I try really hard to stay positive, but a day like that one yesterday?  Shoots me right down.  I really do appreciate all the good things you guys say when I need it, though.  And I do know that I need to hit the trail again.  The diet restrictions have been tough on all us, Puppy and Bear and me.  We’ve been working those in since the beginning of August.  The first thing we cut was red dyes, we are now restricting sugars and getting tested by an Allergist to determine whether we have to go forward with no gluten and no casein (a milk protein!).  All that will be left is peanut butter and celery.  Well, maybe they’ll let us keep raisins . . .  ants on a log are fun, right?  There’s some looking for the silver lining for you. 

And as promised, Apple’s just-because rainbow cake.  You can’t be anything but cheerful if you say that out loud . . .  try it . . .  “Apple’s Just Because Rainbow Cake”.  Yeah . . .  that’s better . . . 

September 27, 2007 @ 18:03

Well, I showed my not so nice side on the phone to the pediatrician’s office today and guess what?  They say that they are faxing Puppy’s scrip to the therapist’s office today.  I hate having to scream to get what we need.  It’s exhausting!  And it makes everyone involved feel like crap for one reason or another.  Either for feeling put on the spot or for feeling ignored.  But the end result to my temper tantrum?  I’ve now had two nurses call me to make sure I had everything I needed.  What a mess.  If somebody had just done what they said they would do in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a problem.  What a ridiculous waste of everyone’s time.  It’s bringing out my defeatist streak and the absolutely minimal time I’ve spent at the track in the last month and half is already bad enough.  I believe I’ve probably put on about 20 post-Autism diagnosis pounds.  I need a new coping mechanism.  Right now my coping mechanism is “I think I need about a month of mindless.  I officially declare it to be no-grown-up-stuff-nonsense month.  I can ignore all official looking mail, eat only junk food, and not answer the phone.”  How grown up of me . . .  bleh . . .  sigh . . .  wah . . . 

In the between I have managed to keep a couple of obligations, though . . .  Matthew and Wesley got birthday cakes. 

And tomorrow Apple will be getting her rainbow just-because cake . . . 

September 26, 2007 @ 16:50

1 in 166 children are Autistic.  Some studies say 1 in 150. 

Let’s just be really generous for a moment and call it 1 in 200 for this argument’s sake. 

That means in my boys’ school district alone, there could be as many as 45 children with this diagnosis.  I live in what would be considered a small town. 

There are approximately 2 hundred thousand children in our state between the ages of 1 and 5, that could mean as many as 1 thousand children.  Now that’s just in that age group, there are another thousand between the ages of 5 and 9, and another thousand between the ages of 9 and 14.  Three thousand children . . .  How many of them were or will be left behind, do you think? 

After age 7, it is believed that it is too late.  No more reversal of the condition is possible. 

When early intervention occurs, 50% of these children are mainstreamed.  This is a disorder that most notably affects social interaction, to my mind, mainstreamed is therefore equivalent to cured. 

The waiting list just to get evaluated here can take more than a year. 

For something that for half of the children diagnosed early enough and treated early enough can be cured . . .  there is no excuse for this . . . 

How many children are lost in this back log?  It is horrifying.  I keep hearing about how overloaded everyone is.  There just isn’t enough money to fund all the programs that are needed.  And still, the White House wastes millions (maybe billions) of dollars a year.  And I’m not talking about the big obvious things you might think I’m referring to.  Let’s forget the war for a moment.  How about the White House having a full time floral staff?  When we have children in our country being lost to disease and hunger and the White House has a floral staff, shame on our government!  Honestly, nobody loves Christmas more than me, but that’s all I could think of when watching those Christmas at the White House specials that HGTV runs each year, and that’s all been before my child was diagnosed.  Why can’t we take the budget for all the White House parties and give it back to the care of our children.  And how about all the wasted money for parking and travel and other ridiculous wastes that our “public servants” (can you hear me gagging?) eat up every year.  If Hilary could make me believe that she was prepared to make those kinds of changes for our country, I’d vote for her.  And if you know me, you know how big a statement that is, because I cannot stand her.  Actually, I cannot stand any of them.  I believe at least 95% of all politicians are leeches of the worst variety with all the moral integrity that implies.  How many times have they made those promises to us and how many times have they kept them?  At this point, I don’t think any of them could convince me of their sincerity on any issue. 

We are one of the lucky families.  Puppy got his diagnosis early enough to hopefully make a difference.  We are still in the process of learning exactly where he falls on the spectrum, but he has begun therapies and is having further evaluations, as best we can get into the programs, fighting in the overwhelming tide of families that are in need of these services.  We are doing everything we can to give him every opportunity to have a “normal” life.  But what will happen to all of those children who fall through the cracks in our absolutely inadequate system. 

So, we push.  And the pushing is hard.  I’m so angry today that I can barely breathe.  I sat at my desk crying like a fool this morning, because some little twit in Puppy’s pediatrician’s office couldn’t care less.  I’ve been waiting for almost a week now for a prescription.  Yes, just a little piece of paper.  I have him receiving therapies from one agency, being evaluated and followed at Children’s Hospital’s special center, and his pediatrician has to have a hand in some things still because we are, as always, bound to our health insurance companies like slaves to a ship’s hold.  (Yes, I made the comparison.  Be shocked at the reference if you must, but I think insurance companies, like politicians, are morally repugnant, as vile as slave traders, making their livings on the backs of us.  With no more regard for our lives than they would have for livestock.  I’m feeling particularly bitter today.)  The doctor just has to write a prescription for an occupational therapist to conduct a Sensory Integration Dysfunction Evaluation.  Simple, you would think.  But on my latest phone call today I get the same thing again.  Oh, gosh, what is that?  I’ve told no less than three different nurses in your office what it is.  Oh, gosh, she’s out today.  Well why the hell didn’t she take care of it yesterday?  Or the day before?  Or the day BEFORE?!?!  Every day that he loses is a day we will never get back.  It is a very small window of opportunity we have to get him to best place he can be.  And every day you let slip, you ignorant don’t-give-a-damn-about-my-child pediatrician’s office worker?  That is a day of recovery you have stolen from my baby. 

So here we are, with the same problem slapping us down from the bottom as from the top.  When it is so clear what needs to be done, why can’t we just get it done?  I know in the big picture, we are doing pretty well, but I’ve got this feeling of dread that I just can’t shake.  I swear I feel like I’m standing at the bottom of a slowly filling swimming pool in concrete shoes, holding him over my head and watching the water rise, yelling to the people all around us on the sides to take him, please save him, please help us before it’s too late.  And nobody seems to hear us.  Or worse, nobody seems to care. 

September 21, 2007 @ 16:55

Okay first, sorry!  Seriously, I was derailed last week by a phenomenal, technicolor, spiritual, as in saw-the-face-of-god and not in the good way, as in please-kill-me-now round of food poisoning.  I’ll spare you any more detail.  This week I’ve just been extra busy.  I’m getting ready to go out of town the first week of October.  A whole week in Palm Springs.  I LOVE my job!!! 

But this is what I did last night. 

For Morgan, who is five.  Seriously, when did the Care Bears make a comeback?  I totally missed it.  Maybe because I am no longer five. Now Care Bears just make me think of Henry Rollins.  Tomorrow morning I’ll be delivering two chocolate Pokemon cakes for five year old twins.  It’s a good week to be five.  Actually, any week is a good week to be five, isn’t it?  Remember five?  Oh, when the hardest decisions you had to make were whether you wanted raisins or chocolate chips on your peanut butter covered graham cracker . . . 

Oh!  And speaking of decisions.  My hair people, seriously, I just meant the cut!  So when I posted that and then disappeared for a week and a half, did you think I’d joined the circus?  LOL 

Have a good weekend everybody, I’ll see you next week. 

September 07, 2007 @ 14:06

So is it a sign that this is the only picture I could find of the cut I want?  And if so, what is it a sign of? 

September 06, 2007 @ 09:50

Because of her completely adorable new hair, well, and her general hotness, too.  I’m thinking of wacking off my hair . . . 

 I may need an intervention here.  But I’ve been letting it grow out and it’s gotten so long, that I’m getting headaches from the weight of it.  It’s not long enough yet for locks of love, but it’s to the point that I’m having trouble sleeping.  Every time I have an urge like this, however, I regret it later.  Oh the perm stories that I have and the summer highlight horror story, that’s a classic.  I was like a very sad Pat Benetar fan for months in recovery from that one.  But I learned a very important lesson, never trust the clerk in the beauty supply store to be an expert . . .  yeah, I did . . .  no, really . . . 

 *sigh* 

September 05, 2007 @ 15:04

The difference between a plain pie and something that makes a statement is easy as playing with blocks.  Just stack them well.  I am not much of a gadget cook.  But I absolutely love my Yankee Apple Peeler.  I bought it from Ordinary Average Girl, she’s listed right over there in the places I go.  She is the best home demo person ever, she’s a Pampered Chef  Consultant.  She’s got great taste, great personality and is a hoot, always with a great story to tell.  I’m not really sure what possessed me the day I bought it, though.  I don’t even own a proper food processor.  I’m so very old school.  But I saw it and had to have it.  And now I love it.  I was tasked with making the dessert for our family Labor Day gathering.  The kids swam in the pool and the grown ups basically focused on eating as much of Aunt Dawna’s black eyed pea salsa, I need to call her and get that recipe, as possible.  Oh, and pretending that eight cupcakes is okay, because they are minis.  I made little mini berry cupcakes and standard sized berry cupcakes and apple plum tarts.  And see how pretty the tarts turned out?  All because of that apple peeler.  It’s awesome.  Just look that, for Pete’s sake! 

These guys are pretty cute, too . . . 

September 04, 2007 @ 15:31

The Persian Love Cake for Missy looked like this . . .  since you asked so nicely. I love whipped cream on a cake.  Even if the style is a bit dated, this is one of my favorite things, piles of whipped cream roses and old fashioned piped borders.  The inside was the Persian Love Cake recipe, but with fresh strawberries between the layers. 

September 04, 2007 @ 12:04

So had an unusual cake order for the weekend.  Just a basic red velvet cake covered in ganache tinted black.  Anybody recognize this logo?  E, you don’t get to answer, as it was for you . . .