Full-Soul-Ahead!

I've Moved!

2009-10-08T08:12:00.000-04:00

Come see me here.

Love.

fullsoulahead.com

2009-10-04T06:18:00.005-04:00

In The Seat Of The Soul, Gary Zukav describes a level of consciousness where the personality is aligned with the soul's intent. He describes blended beings who live like this as "full souls." I loved the concept of lining up with my higher self and moving through life that way and put out the intention to go in that direction.

Riley was not even a year old when I read the book, and I wrote to Zukav to tell him how much it inspired me. I expressed how I hoped my spiritual journey would help me be a better parent.

At the time I had no idea the ride I had just gotten on.

In March, 2006 I began writing and I started this blog. I needed a title.

Flipping through The Seat of the Soul for inspiration I came across the "full soul" concept again and explained the meaning of the expression to Todd.

"Full soul...."

"Full soul...."

"Something with full soul," I muttered.

Todd (putting the H in Hot Toddy) looked at me from across the room and said enthusiastically,"Full-Soul-Ahead!"

And that's how this 'lil blog was born.

But she's growing up. She wants more freedom. She needs more space!

Please come join me at, fullsoulahead.com!

It will be just like here, but there.

There will also be a page dedicated to Riley's service dog, Jingle.

And a page for paid reviews(show me the money)!

It will be fun.

I promise. I'm leaving this blog up, but future posts will be over there. Come see me, okay?

http://www.fullsoulahead.com/

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

Jingle Jingle Jingle!

2009-10-03T08:22:00.004-04:00

This from 4 Paws:

Hi Riley,

My name is Jingle and I am a Australian Shepherd/Boxer mix. I am so excited that you are going to be my new best friend. We can do so many girl things together like having a girls night sleep over, EVERY single night! My birthday is November 7, 2008 and I am a member of the Hodgepodge Names Gang. I am excited I get to celebrate my first birthday with you. That is so cool. I hope we can have a party! Do you like liverwurst cake? I love it and even better if it is decorated with Pupperoni and Milk Bones! I have been hoping my whole life that I would get to graduate and have a partner and secretly I always hoped my partner, (that is you!) would be a girl like me. I hope your family will hurry to get here because I will be dreaming about you all night long!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Jingle

4 Paws makes the match based on the dog's temperament and the video we sent in of Riley. We had no say in the matter and could not request dogs. Out of over 100 dogs on the 4 Paws training page, Jingle is the one Riley wished for. She was a floppy little puppy when she first appeared on the training page, and Riley fell in love. There were two other dogs in that litter, but Riley never mentioned them. Just Jingle. "Maybe I'll get Jingle," she'd sigh, wistfully, whenever we looked at the page.

Isn't Jingle the best name ever? Doesn't it just sound bouncy and joyful? I love that she's a mixed breed.

The news came in last night, after Riley and Seth went to bed. We have yet to tell them. We are having a birthday party for Seth today (yes, almost a month late, Sept. is hard with the start of school ) and have decided not to tell her until after the party. So much is about Riley. This is Seth's day.

It might just kill me.

So, thank you for letting me tell you. It takes some of the edge off.

My heart is so full of appreciation for everyone who has supported us on our way toward this moment. I'll post more after we tell Riley.

Love.

Google, I appreciate you.

2009-10-02T12:00:00.000-04:00

My daughter is doing well today because I was able to search, search, search for therapies to help her. I love you Google. And I love your artists. I hope you forgive me for lifting the picture above, but I just wanted to say how much I look forward to your artwork and what a thrill I get each time I see it changed to commemorate an important day.

Google, you are the best!

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

The Cello

2009-09-30T22:06:00.002-04:00

We looked up "cello rental" on Google and off we went.

The first store was old and musty. They had just one kid sized cello. Riley sat on a chair to try it and the woman was abrupt.

"Move forward." she barked. "No, put your butt on the edge of this seat."

Her directives (and her tone) were confusing. Riley was trying to obey the requests, but getting agitated.

I don't know anything about cellos, but the fit didn't look right. It seemed to me, Riley's hand should be able to glide her bow across the strings evenly, not in a contorted position. It was like her arm wasn't long enough to handle this cello. Perhaps she needed a smaller size. The lady poo-pooed me. I obviously didn't know anything about cellos (and besides she didn't have any smaller sizes).

For good measure, a man came out from the back room, possibly her son. He rolled his eyes at me and stated, "She's big enough for that cello."

I told them we would look around and possibly come back, at which point she warned me that I didn't want to go to "such and such" store, down the road, because they charge a deposit.

We immediately headed toward "such and such." Riley cried, "But Mom! They charge a deposit!" She had no idea what that meant, but knew it didn't sound good.

I explained that charging a deposit guards the store against people damaging their instruments, or stealing them, or not paying their rental fees. Deposits might just mean the store really cares about its instruments. I think of the cello we just saw and the smiley face sticker someone had slapped onto the back of it.

"Also," I said, "It is unprofessional to badmouth your competition. It says much more about the first store than it does about the second one."

We went in and the second place was clean. The instruments gleamed. The service was impeccable. The man at the counter concluded Riley needed a size right in the middle of two sizes, and found a German 1/4 size just for her, whatever that means. They cleaned it up, and delivered it to our house that evening.

They charged a refundable deposit, and six dollars more than the other store per month, which we're willing to pay. At any point, we can put what we've paid to rent it, toward purchase.

If there is one thing I've learned from having a child on the autism spectrum it's to go with my intuition. If it doesn't feel right do not proceed. I could not get out of that first store fast enough.

Her first group lesson was today.

She insisted on no help from her father as she walked into school today because after all she is not a baby. He watched her with her heavy backpack, carrying that rented cello (worth 2K, BTW) up the stairs and then she turned the corner and was gone.

Tonight we couldn't get much out of her about the lesson other than "it went well," and "we plucked."

I'll take it.

This Just In...

2009-09-29T14:30:00.001-04:00

When we sent Riley off to school this morning it didn't look good. She was scared about her speech, and not in a good mood overall. I wasn't sure if she'd stick around to give the speech or go careening out of the room to hide in the sensory room down the hall.

After I dropped her off I didn't hear a thing all day. It was torture!

At 2PM I picked up Seth on one side of the building, and then we swung around to meet Riley and HT on the other side. There she was in the parking lot, holding her hands together to keep her tic in check. The arm tic means she's happy.

Seth said, "She's not crying so it must have gone all right."

When I got up to her she looked in my eyes but didn't spill it.

"Well?" I asked. "Did you give your speech?"

She smiled big.

"Yes."

We high fived, both hands.

Long pause.

"And what happened?" I asked.

"I get to be the back up," she grinned.

Six candidates. She came in third. She technically isn't in student council, but she wasn't kicked to the curb. If one of the two elected candidates does something un student counsel worthy or decides to quit, she'll be up for election. 'Til then we don't have to do a thing. Best of both worlds if you ask me.

SHE RAN FOR STUDENT COUNCIL AND GAVE A SPEECH IN FRONT OF HER CLASS.

She's happy.

I'm over the moon proud.

I'm at Hopeful Parents Today

2009-09-29T06:00:00.003-04:00

In a recent blog post, I wrote about how there were times I felt like I hated Riley when she was little.

Then I didn't sleep for three nights.

Will she read it one day and convince herself I didn't love her? Will she blame herself? Am I a horrible person for having those feelings to begin with? Is that something I should just keep secret? Will it hurt her? Will the "you shouldn't write about your kids" nazis get on my tookus?

Come read about how it all worked out over at Hopeful Parents.

Two Weeks!

2009-09-28T13:08:00.004-04:00

Did you happen to see the doggie countdown over to the right? That's right, we're two weeks away!!!

Riley and I spent some time on the computer over the weekend, looking at the 4 Paws for Ability website. I told her the story of 4 Paws Founder Karen Shirk, and how a black German shepherd named Ben saved her life, and how she founded 4 Paws as a testament to how much he helped her when she was ill. I showed her the page about the children Karen has adopted from all over the world. We looked at pictures of the outside play structure and the training room at 4 Paws. We looked at pictures of other kids with their dogs.

We gazed longingly at all the dogs in training, wondering which one we'd be bringing home with us soon.

It was so fun enjoying it all and connecting this way. I asked if she had a guess as to which dog she will get and she said, "Maybe if they think I'm an amazing kid, they'll give me Stryker, because he looks just like Ben."

Squeezing her tight, I assured her they'll think she's an amazing kid, whichever dog she gets.

Then she asked,

"Mommy, will my dog make mistakes?"

If you've read this blog at all you know Riley has a huge problem with perfectionism, thinking she has to know things already (instead of learning them gradually). Many things do come very easily for her, but when things do not she can quickly fall apart.

I told her the dog would certainly make mistakes, just like everyone does.

It is going to be wonderful to see all the dogs in training. Maybe they will help Riley see learning as a process.

May they make a lot of mistakes.

Cake Wrecks

2009-09-25T21:46:00.001-04:00

Man, I needed this today.

After having a crappy week, I saw the link for Cake Wrecks on The Pioneer Woman's site. My stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

This, or this, or this will give you the idea.

Go. Laugh.

Have a great weekend!

Anyone have any cake?

'Til Tuesday, and perhaps TMI

2009-09-25T17:20:00.002-04:00

For those who may be wondering, Riley's speech was set for today, but she was home from school with severe constipation(one of the joys of our brand of autism). Her teacher and I communicated through e-mail, and she will be allowed to give her speech Tuesday, the day of the election.

Fortunately, the eagle has landed, and after a rough week, all things are rainbows and sunshine in the land of O'Neil.

Praise God.

Falafel Good Chips

2009-09-25T07:00:00.000-04:00

This is not a paid review. Falafel Chips wouldn't know me if I bit them, (and I do bite them, often).
I love these chips with all my heart and soul. You can eat them plain and enjoy the salty goodness. You can eat them with hummus or any other dip. You can melt cheese over them and use them for nachos. You can be happy because they are free of genetically modified organisms. You can be happy because they are made in the USA. You can be happy because there are actual real live vegetables in them.

Nothing further. Talk amongst yourselves. Chomp, chomp, crunch,....

Too Damn Cute

2009-09-24T07:00:00.008-04:00

Riley is refusing to wear her skorts. She's got three and they are all darling. With laundry a bit behind, and no clean clothes, I pressed the issue this morning.

"Why can't you wear one of these?" I said, pulling two skorts out of her drawer and jiggling them in her direction.

"I'm just too cute in those," she said earnestly.

What she meant was "baby-ish." Cutesy. Little kid cute. But the way she said it was too cute, and I didn't correct her.

Tomorrow I'll tell her, fill her in on the nuance.

Perhaps it is wrong of me, but I'm going to let her be "too cute" for one more day.

I Like What I See

2009-09-23T07:00:00.006-04:00

On several occasions, while meditating, I have had a vision. I am walking into a "school of the arts" type place, and I hear music from down the hall. I recognize it as my daughter's music. I walk down a corridor, turn a corner and there she is, maybe 16. She sits solo, in a big room, back lit by sunlight, playing a cello.

She is breathtaking.

In the vision, Riley and I head toward home, we are in a white car. We drive up a small road, lined with tennis courts on the left. There is a group of boys, not really playing tennis, kind of hanging out pretending to play tennis, goofing around. We stop and I roll down my window. Seth is among this tribe of 13-14 year old kids and I ask if he wants a ride. He shakes his head, points to his bike. He'll be home by dinner. Okay.

Next, I'm preparing a salad in a lovely kitchen. We are getting ready for a family dinner, typical school night.

I don't know where this place is.

I know nothing of tennis.

I wish I had that kitchen!

I vowed to never push music on Riley again and have never suggested the cello.

I don't have a white car.

I do know this.

Ms. Riley came home last week with a form for the school orchestra.

She wants to join.

She thinks she'd like to try, the cello.

Homework Was a Bloodbath, Then We Turned it Around

2009-09-22T07:42:00.004-04:00

I was tired.

She was tired.

A long day of school followed by Girls on the Run. I let them watch TV while I made dinner.

Homework started out okay. Seth at the dining room table, Riley in the kitchen. Always separate them because if she notices him finishing first, there is trouble.
~
Spelling was done, she'd moved to geometry. Checking her work, I noted she had written two mistakes in a "match the word with the meaning" exercise. She'd just flipped them. Easy fix.

She could not deal.

For twenty minutes she screamed and cried and hit herself in the head, and even bit her arm. For a mistake that could have been fixed in three seconds. She could not just erase it and move on.

"We'll skip it. Let's go back to geometry. Sorry I interrupted."

She could not skip it. And she could not move on. She'd entered a continuous loop of...

"It's too hard!"
"It's too much homework!"
"I am tired."
"I'm so lazy."

"Riley you are not lazy. You are overwhelmed," I said.

She'd rather DIE than leave her homework incomplete, but she just could not get it together. Looking at the clock, it was getting late. 25 minutes 'til bedtime.

Seth kept coming in to offer bits of,"She's making all that fuss over one little sheet?" And, "I'm glad she's not in my class." Not his usual Buddha. He was tired too. "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN SETH!" He ran off to work on a new Lego Todd's sister sent him for his birthday. Thank God for the distraction it gave him.

She started back with Geometry but the assignment wasn't clear cut. The answers don't scream out at you from the book. There is grey area and deciphering is required.

More screaming, screaming, screaming, and finally I lost it. I took her homework sheet, crumpled it up and shot it across the room.

Riley why is your homework wrinkled?
Why yes teacher, it's because my mother lost her shit and crumpled it up.

"RILEY UP TO YOUR ROOM NOW!"

I could feel myself shaking.

I am such a loser.
I have not come any further than when she was two.
I want to run away and never look back.
I am sick of it.
I could have handled it differently.
I didn't need to yell at her and crumple her work.
This is too hard.

As I walk up the stairs to the bathroom, she comes out of her room and meets me in the hall. Her face blotchy and red.

"Mommy you need to calm me down," she begs.

Anger wells in me.

"I can't calm you down Riley. You have to calm you down."

"But can we do a meditation?" she asks through her crying hiccups.

My heart softens.

We go into the bedroom. I light a candle, turn out the lights and shut the door. We lie side by side on the king size bed and I begin.

Let's tense our toes. Squeeze them, squeeze them. Now with a big exhale, let them go.

Now our ankles and our whole feet. Tense them, really tight. Breath out and let them go.

Tense the calves all the way up to the kneecaps. Squeeze, squeeze.....now let them go with a big breath..........

Next are the thighs, tense those muscles, really really hard.......now breathe out and let them go.........

Both of us are doing the exercise with all we've got. I can hear her big exhales.

Now your butt. Let's tense our butts Riley. Squeeze! Hold it! Now let it go. Breathe........

Now our bellies. Tense every muscle in our bellies.

Breathe.

Let it go........

Our chests. Squeeze.

Breathe.

Let it go..........

Our shoulders.

Breathe.

Let them go.........

Our necks.

Breathe.

Let it go...........

Our arms, all the way down to our fingers.

Breathe.

Let them go..........

Our faces.

Breathe.

Our eyes. Squeeze them tight.

Breathe.

Let them go...........

Our heads.

Breathe.

Let it go............

Now the whole body.

Squeeze.

Breathe.

Let it go...........

Now as we lay here, we're going to leave this Riley and this mommy, and we're going to float way into the sky. And we're going to look down at this Riley and this mommy, and we're going to smile, because we know how much they love each other.

Riley reaches for my hand.

Floating way above the earth, we can see from this perspective, how this one bad homework night isn't all that important. It's even kind of silly from up here.

Way, up, up above the clouds, we hold hands and float along, feeling how much love we have for each other. We are weightless, and worry-less. Floating, floating...........

And now we look down at that Riley and that mommy, and we see them at the kitchen table. Finishing the homework with no problem. It's easier than it seemed.

Breathing, breathing, we visualize the scene.

After a while....

And now, we are back on this bed, our hearts filled with love for each other.

We are breathing..........

We are calm.

We lay there in the candlelight.

"Namaste' Riley."
"Namaste' Mommy."

"Riley that was such a good idea. So great you knew what we needed and suggested a meditation."

She threw her arm over my chest and hugged me.

Back downstairs, the rest of her homework took roughly ten minutes.

After tucking them in, I spend the evening wondering why my bag of tricks went flying out the window. Why couldn't I think in the moment? How did I get so far gone? Who crumples up their kid's homework? Seriously?

Breathe........

Breathe..........

Focus on the turn around we made.

Look at what we do want, not at what we don't.

Breathe.....

Let it go......

Let it go.

Gearing Up for the Election

2009-09-20T20:10:00.008-04:00

She's practicing her speech. Nose pressed to the paper she holds in her hands,

"My name is Riley O'Neil and I am smart, kind, sensitive and brave."

Halfway through, I suggest, "Move the paper down so we can see your face."

She moves the paper down.

She starts again.

"My name is Riley O'Neil and I am smart, kind, sensitive and brave. I would be a good student council member because...."

"Riley, projection. We can't hear you!"

Todd, Seth and myself sit on the couch, pretending we're her classmates.

A couple of tries later, I introduce the concept of eye contact while giving speeches. I suggest she look up at the end of each sentence. Look at a person, an object or a mark on the wall.

She wigs out.

She reads the speech loudly, making ridiculously exaggerated eye contact. Think along the lines of this:
"I'M RILEY O'NEIL AND THE ISSUES THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME ARE HEALTHY FOOD AND RESPECTING OTHERS!"

If she were versed in FU, each "eye contact" would be punctuated with one.

The first round is her own classroom. If she makes that, she'll go on to compete against the winners of the two other fourth grade classrooms.

I'm so proud of her for trying.

It's going to be an interesting week.

The Best Part is She Can Give Them Back When She's Done

2009-09-20T07:02:00.003-04:00

Last week, our friends Kathleen and Chuck were visiting from Albuquerque. That's Kathleen on the left, and Chuck on the far right. In the middle are Kerry and Stan, (Kathleen's sister and brother-in-law). Kerry and Stan's adorable four year old daughter was a flower girl in a Cleveland wedding last weekend, so Kathleen and Chuck decided to fly in, see them while they were in town, and then visit us.

We had such a nice time, going for walks, eating, walking eating, you get the idea. Kathleen is from upstate NY; we went to high school together and lived together in DC just after college. Chuck is from New Mexico and was awed by all the green here in Cleveland. While here, Kathleen went to Girls on the Run with us.

Lo and behold, I got an e-mail from her yesterday, stating she and another woman are thinking of starting a Girls on the Run group in Albuquerque! Kathleen does not have kids, she knew she didn't want them and refused to conform to other people's opinions about what makes a life, but no one said she hated kids.

The stats on Albuquerque schools are abysmal. Something like a zero literacy rate for graduating kindergartners. Something like 58% graduate from high school. Kids there need role models and adults who care about them! I was so happy she's thinking of doing this and relayed the news to HT.

"Riley strikes again," he said, smiling.

Happy Birthday Hot Stuff!

2009-09-19T08:16:00.002-04:00

IT'S MY SISTER KELLI'S BIRTHDAY TODAY.

I LOVE HER.

AMEN.

Needs No Editing

2009-09-18T18:38:00.002-04:00

My daughter wants to run for student council.

She mentioned it last week, brought home a form to fill out about it. I told her we'd work on it over the weekend. Came home today from a wonderful visit with Clarissa to find it's all done.

"Mom, can you help me edit this?" she asked.

She had to list four things about herself. This was what she came up with:

1) smart
2) sensitive
3) kind
4) brave

Her platform will be one of healthy food, and treating others with respect. Of course fund raising for field trips and parties will be of utmost importance.

She has to give a speech to her class on Tuesday, stating all of the above.

My daughter wants to run for student council.

Insert breath.

If she's going to be brave about this, so am I.

Hitting the Road

2009-09-17T06:06:00.002-04:00

I'm off today to an overnight slumber party with Clarissa! She lives in the DC area, so we're meeting halfway in West Virginia. Food, wine, and tons of gabbing. So excited to see her.

For the first time ever, Riley was a little clingy to me last night and said she would miss me.

Seth asked if there were any toy stores in West Virginia, and might I hook him up with a new Lego?

Todd said, "Go have fun with your friend and come back safe to me."

In one hour I pull out of the driveway.

I feel so blessed.

Can't Stop the Singing

2009-09-16T13:04:00.003-04:00

Seth came home sad because the teacher told him if he kept singing, he was going to get a time-out. A time-out means you have to go to your desk and put your head down.

Seth sings all the time. A sweet little soprano hum, underneath whatever he is working on at the time. If he's drawing, if he's writing, if he's building with Legos, the song is always there.

But at school, Seth's song can be distracting to other students.

"I can't help it Mommy. I forget," he said.

He hung his head, furrowed his brow.

Part of me wanted to yank him out immediately, put him in a school for the arts where his song would be celebrated! He's such a good kid! He's never had a time-out in his life!

But Seth has a wonderful teacher, and he can't disrupt the other students, and he did decide to come here and live in this world where accommodations for others must be made.

"So here's the deal Seth. If you forget, and if you get a time-out, you will never be in trouble at home. You go to your desk, put your head down, do a little meditation, and tell yourself over and over, I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. Okay?"

"Can I meditate about Legos?"

"Absolutely. Whatever brings you joy."

"Okay Mommy."

"You're the best boy," I said.

"You're the best mom," he said.

Well then, I guess that's that.

Everyone, Meet Louise Frechette.

2009-09-15T12:20:00.007-04:00

When I was in my darkest hour with Riley, I reached out to a woman who was writing a column for a newsletter called The Holy Encounter. This woman had experience running a day care using the principles of A Course in Miracles. In a nutshell, those principles are, if it doesn't look like love it must be fear. Period.

Louise didn't know me at all, but answered my e-mail and gave me her phone number. We were desperate. Riley was two and screaming non-stop. Seth was a baby. None of us had slept in months. I was having panic attacks. It was taking its toll on Todd. I feared I might just lose it, really lose it on her one day. I felt my life was over. I sometimes hated my child. There was so much despair in our house.

Louise talked to me several times, for hours. Her kind, firm, loving presence got me on the right track.

-This can be a spiritual journey.

-Things aren't always what they appear.

-Her behavior is trying to tell you something.

-She is not trying to make your life hell.

-If it doesn't look like love it must be fear.

-She is afraid and needs compassion.

-When I am out of control, and angry, I am afraid and need compassion.

Louise referred me to the Son Rise books, which led us to our weekend at The Option Institute, which led us to see Raun Kaufman speak, which gave us hope things could change, which led us to try DAN! doctor Elizabeth Mumper who recommended methylated B-12 shots, which Riley was a great responder to, and on and on we've gone, ever expanding since.

Louise got us unstuck.

She helped me to see things differently and told me even if I can't see things differently, to ask God for the willingness. Just that much would be enough.

I'm welling up just thinking about how much she helped us.

Louise Frechette has since become a life coach. Of course she has!

Her new webpage offers a wealth of information and she is also starting a 4 week teleclass series next week, focusing on practical and soulful solutions for raising emotionally and spiritually aware children. The introductory class is free. Click here for details. I plan on taking part in the Wednesday daytime class.

Thank you Louise. From the bottom of my willing little heart, I thank you.

Love.

Time to Sing!

2009-09-13T22:04:00.006-04:00

Windsong Chorus started rehearsing today and it was so good to be back with the group for my second season. Due to lack of planning I had to bring the kids and set them up in an adjoining room with snacks galore and a portable DVD player. They had to share ear buds, holding them to one ear each. Those two little darlings didn't require a thing of me the whole two hours. Not a peep. They watched Cars for the 27 millionth time. Who has the best kids? I do.

The music this season is so good. Almost every song has me choked up. I seriously have to concentrate on not crying. The selections just resonate with me so much. The words. The melodies. The harmonies. First day and it already sounded so beautiful.

One of the songs is I Ain't Afraid, and I found it tonight on You Tube, performed by Holly Near, the woman who wrote it.

Many paths, one Source. My path isn't better than your path. I believe God is love. Only love. Amen.

Seth's Ripples

2009-09-13T07:00:00.002-04:00

Since August 20th when we went to see the doctor of Chinese medicine regarding Seth's PANDAS we have learned so much about GMO's, and have gone completely organic.

Thanks to Seth, the health of our whole family will be improved.

But wait! There's more.

I've had the opportunity to educate the teachers at school and they have been very interested and gracious and understanding.

One educator who was the notorious and beloved candy giver to all children, has decided to change to healthy snacks for the kids.

Our Girls on the Run chapter will be eating GMO-free snacks this year.

Seth is loving the food, and hasn't balked once.

"This is even better than the other kind Mommy!"
"Thank you for my food Mommy!"
"Thank you for cooking this for me Mommy!"

Seth is a powerful teacher, getting healthier all the time. He is a joy.

Go Seth!

You incredible boy.

Thank you.

How to Help a Child With Autism

2009-09-12T20:32:00.001-04:00

First, love them. Then consider...

How To Help a Child With Autism on Howcast

Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

2009-09-11T20:02:00.003-04:00

Love.

Happy Mommy

2009-09-10T21:02:00.000-04:00

I love the public school my kids attend.

Amen.

Curriculum night went well. One year ago I would have skipped it because HT had to work, and I couldn't exactly have left Riley in the childcare in the gym with all those kids.

Tonight I did exactly leave her there; Seth too. They had a ball! I got to talk to the teachers, and they are wonderful. Totally committed. Wanting to learn. Open minded and open hearted. Both kids scored with great teachers this year!

Girls on the Run starts Monday and I'm going to be a coach. Stay tuned.

Have a great weekend!

Love.

Yes, you.

2009-09-09T10:47:00.000-04:00

You matter. You are important, and visible, and worthy of all good things.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

The Day Obama Talked to the Kids

2009-09-09T10:20:00.002-04:00

The night before last, the school principle left an automated message informing parents the kids would be hearing President Obama's address to the nation's children the next day at school. If parents had objections they could opt to keep their kids out of the assembly. Note to self: God loves the ignorant, the racist, the shameful, the fearful who feel separated from Who They Really Are, and the people who judge them. Amen.

Anyway, yesterday was the address. For Riley, the change in routine meant lunch and recess time was spent in the classroom, no mid-day swinging/calming. Later in math which itself is often a trigger, a new skill (note taking) was introduced. With note taking, there is pressure to keep up. When Riley feels rushed, the anxiety is unbearable for her. When the teacher asked her a question she didn't know the answer to, she bolted from the classroom and ran down the hall crying. Fight or flight. The meltdown that ensued was a biggie.

On our walk home, we talked about it.

"I didn't want everyone to think I was a baby because I didn't know the answer," she said.

She has no understanding of them perhaps thinking she's a baby for running from the class screaming and crying.

Seth replied, "Didn't you hear Barack? He said askin' questions doesn't mean you're not smart. He said it's part a learnin."

Yes, he called him Barack, and, he got the message. If only we could convince his sister.

~
By the time we got home Riley was completely spent. Two hours 'til Tae Kwon Do. We got homework done with some crying. Her, not me. She and Seth chilled in front of Sponge Bob. I let them have a snack on TV trays. She needed to go elsewhere. Bikini Bottom was just the place.

Looking at the clock, I saw we had 20 minutes to get the kids dressed in their uniforms, and out the door if we were going to make it to martial arts by 5:30. We pay a lot of money for therapeutic martial arts. I hate for them to miss it. I looked at Riley's blotchy face staring at the TV, and thought, she's not ready.

Voices of the others, started to heckle me.

"You're wasting your money."

"You're letting her get away with something."

"She has to stick it out."

"You're teaching her to be a quitter."

BACK OFF! I AM THE MOTHER. I DECIDE.

I asked myself, what is best for this child in this moment?

I thought of how beautifully Lydia described the need for recovery time after a hard day.

We skipped martial arts.

Seth and Riley played outside after dinner. By 6:30, she was okay. They were all rough and tumble with big bouncy exercise balls (formerly used for floor time) in the front yard. Riding their scooters up and down the sidewalk. Running joyfully with the neighbor's five year old.

The sky darkened behind the house, but the sun lit up the clouds in front.

She got to see her rainbow.

Riley and Seth and our little neighbor friend shrieked and jumped for joy! They tossed cut grass clippings into the air in celebration, like confetti. They squealed and danced at the site of the rainbow over our house. Tomorrow is a new day.

"Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future."

-President Barack Obama

Cowboy and Wills

2009-09-08T07:00:00.008-04:00

Author Monica Holloway and I have never actually met, but when I was working on my memoir, writer friends who knew her insisted I read her book, Driving With Dead People,

"You have to read Monica's book!"

"You have to meet Monica!" they said.

We both had difficult childhoods. We both have a child on the autism spectrum. Eventually we were introduced on-line. She generously offered to read my manuscript. Months later I took her up on it. She read it and gave me wonderful feedback and valuable advice.

So while we have not met each other physically it feels like we have. We've read each other's stories. She made a generous donation toward Riley's dog, which is a subject near and dear to her heart. Monica's new book is about her son Wills, and how a Golden Retriever named Cowboy changed his young life. Cowboy and Wills is coming out in October, the same month Riley gets her service dog. Kismet?

If you can watch the video promo for Cowboy & Wills, and not get misty, seek professional help. Seriously.

Congrats on your new book Monica. Here's to new beginnings!

I'm tipping a glass of organic wine in your honor.

Big love to you.

XO

Why Did The Chicken Stop Eating Its Food?

2009-09-07T17:20:00.001-04:00

Because its blessed inner guidance system told him it was being effed with.

Read about it here.

It's no joke.

Spa Day

2009-09-06T17:18:00.008-04:00

The boys were having one-on-one today, and the girls were staying home.

"What should we do Riley?" I asked.

With twinkling eyes she looked at me, then whispered in my ear, "Can we go to a spa?" She'd never before made such a request.

"Well, Love. It's Sunday. Spas aren't going to be open today, but we could play spa here. Would that be okay?"

She grinned.

So, off to Whole Foods for an avocado, some rose petal laden sea salts and mud bath supplies.

Riley mashed the avocado with the mortar and pestle we use for supplements, while I got things ready.

First, we deep conditioned our hair, then put plastic bags on the tops of our heads to trap in our natural body heat thus locking in the conditioner. While our hair cooked, we did our avocado/coconut oil facials. She wanted this so badly, and let me do it, though she flinched every time I touched her face with the goo. The sensory stuff is still there, but she is able to deal with it. Used to be, she'd run screaming if someone had so much as a crumb on their chin at dinner.

Once the goo was on, I massaged her face lightly with my fingertips and audibly let out my own breath, which prompts her to let out hers. Soothing meditative music played in the background.

She insisted on cucumbers for the eyes. Of course! What kind of lame salon would this be without them?

After avocados and cucumbers, it was time for a mud bath.

Mud all over her body and face, and she loved it! We let the mud dry, and then put her in a bubble bath with rose petal sea salts. Oh how the mud just lifted right off of her.

A quick shower and it was onto manis and pedis. She opted for solid green toes and multi colored fingers.

She picked my color and did my nails, practicing for the day she'll be able to do her own.

The boys are home now. They played mini-golf and went to a park.

HT is transfixed by my beauty. Maybe it's the smell of my deeply conditioned hair. Perhaps it's my neon green fingernails. Maybe I'm glowing from all the avocado and mud. He can hardly keep his hands off of me.

We won't tell him how I got this way. It'll be our little secret.

A lady likes to leave some mystery.

Skunk Update

2009-09-06T07:00:00.006-04:00

In the dark of night I carried out the plan. Two times. Three days apart. Full 24 hour collection both times. I'm nothing if not thorough.

The skunks have left town. Haven't had a whiff of them since.

Didn't even need to use the fox pee.

Apparently, mine is plenty strong enough.

Just keeping you in the loop.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

My Father Built Us an Amazing Swing

2009-09-05T07:00:00.005-04:00

We had a giant weeping willow tree in our back yard, the branches were easily fifty feet high. My dad was a tree man, he cut down trees for a living. He made us a swing out of a big tire. He cut the tire to make a seat, with big round handles. Thick ropes held the swing to the branch. You could sit on it, or stand, hooking your feet into the handles. The swing was far enough out on a strong branch- you could stand and swing sideways and never smack into the tree. It felt a bit like a trapeze would feel, I'd imagine.

My sister's partying friends would come over and spin each other on that swing, torquing it round and around too high, and then letting go. Troy Erney got the blood vessels in his eyes broken that way, spinning around too fast. It was gross.

Every spring, our yard would flood. We'd have to wade out to the swing, and then once on, we'd fly high over the water.

I would swing and swing until I felt calmer. When I started to feel sick it would be time to get off of it.

Hours of my childhood spent swinging.

Swinging helps Riley so much.

I wish I had a swing like that for my kids.

Someone Who is Seven

2009-09-04T06:24:00.006-04:00

There is a person in our house who is seven today. This guy, every time you tell him, "You're the best boy in the whole world," never fails to respond with, "You're the best mom."

He loves to hold doors for people, and hear them call him "a little gentleman."

He sings all day long, under his breath, constant gentle melodies.

He is super excited about his sister's service dog and has never expressed one second of jealousy around it.

He is Lego obsessed and a master at building with them.

He is physically, breathtakingly beautiful (just like your children).

He has strong little boy legs that for some reason remind me of Christopher Robin.

He has fine white blond hair on his forearms.

He some days walks around with a sign he made taped to his back that says, "I love my family and Legos."

He speaks with authority on all subjects, including (and especially) subjects he knows nothing about.

He hasn't a mean bone in his body. Not one. Not even a tiny little minuscule bone like those inside the ear.

Over a decade ago, I dreamt of a little blond haired boy, running joyously on the beach. I woke with such love in my heart and shared the dream with Todd.

"I loved him so much, as if he were my child! But it couldn't have been our baby. He had blond hair," I said as we lay in bed, leisurely talking. Pre-kids. I had dirty blond hair for a short while as a child but we're both brunettes.

Thank you little man, for that visit. And thank you for being the leader in joy for our family. We could not ask for a better son, and we are so proud of who you are.

Happy Birthday my love.

Enjoy being seven.

Everything Had Been Going So Well

2009-09-03T13:44:00.001-04:00

Two days in.

We walk to school, and try to time it just right so there isn't a lot of hanging around outside, thinking of things to worry about.

Today we rounded the corner of the school as the bell rang. We were twenty yards from her line, but they had already started moving into the school, without her. She could have easily caught up with the rest of her fourth grade class, but instead she panicked, and ran in the opposite direction, back down the street, screaming and crying. She stopped, looked back in the direction of the school and began stomping and spinning in circles shrieking,

"I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!" her backpack, thumping against her back with each stomp.

I caught up with her, took her hand and headed back toward the school. Another class was still lined up outside and they all watched Riley.

One of Riley's biggest fears right now is of everyone staring at her. I no longer give a damn what other people think when she melts, but she does. She does not want to be "different." I don't know if I did the right thing but I took her shoulders gently and told her calmly,

"Riley. Right now you are calling a lot of attention to yourself. Is this what you want to be doing?"

She cried, "NO!"

Did I make her feel worse? She was already so upset. She's already out of control in moments like this. Does pointing out what she's doing just heap more pressure onto her or is it valuable information? Is giving a rip what anyone else thinks the message I want to reinforce?

One of the educators who knows Riley came over and started talking to her.

"I'm sorry Riley, I started your class in just little early today."

I placed Riley's hand in hers and said,

"You'll be okay Riley. I know you will. Ms. _ will take you up to your class. I love you."

Hunched over and crying, Riley walked in with Ms. _.

I walked away from them toward home.

She'd had such a good morning.

If we had just walked out of the house one minute sooner.

If the teachers hadn't started the students in 30 seconds before the bell rang.

What's at the bottom of Riley's fear of being late, or left behind? Why is it such a big deal?

Is it my fault for always rushing them out of the house with, "We'll be late!"

How would I ever get them out of the house otherwise. We will be late. They putter so.

Will the dog make a difference?

How can I help this child?

I went about my morning. Lots of errands. Dishes. Phone calls needed to be made,etc.

By 12:30 I was exhausted, despite getting a good night's sleep.

I laid down on the twin bed in my office and allowed myself to rest. Head on pillow I told myself over and over,

"It's okay to rest."
"It's okay to rest."
"It's okay to rest."

Things have a way of working out. I don't need to know everything. I don't need to always get it right. Everything is okay. We're all okay.

Amen.

I Love Her and Everything About Her

2009-09-02T19:36:00.002-04:00

Todd found Riley in the bathroom yesterday, crying. When he asked what was wrong, she showed him her hands. She'd tried to paint her nails by herself, and it was a total mess.

I heard the ruckus, and went in and told her she needs to ask before doing something (that could stain my walls and floors) like that. I'd be glad to help her, but she needs to ask first. Then I walked out.

Todd stayed. He asked.

"Sweetie, why didn't you ask for help?"

This is what she said,

"Because when someone says Riley, your nails are so pretty; who did them for you? I wanted to be able to say, I did. "

First Day of School

2009-09-01T20:56:00.004-04:00

Uneventful.

Can I get a witness?

*Photo doug88888's photostream Flickr.

If You're Not a Dog Person, Don't Bother Clicking On This Video

2009-09-01T13:28:00.004-04:00

I sent the video above to Carrie, specifically because she's not a dog person. Unbeknown to me, although she's not a dog person, she was generously dog-sitting her in-law's litter yipper, while her husband had split town for a vacation, leaving her not only with a dog, but the kids.

The day she received this video in an e-mail from me, the dog had peed where Carrie sleeps.

One day, well into the school year, she'll laugh about it.

I know she will.

Courtney Sheinmel-Positively

2009-08-30T22:00:00.003-04:00

Look at Courtney in all her gorgeousness! Isn't she beautiful? Now picture her as a 13 year old girl, volunteering for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. Picture her sending her baby-sitting money to help. Picture her flying to California from New York City as a teen, to work side by side with Elizabeth Glaser during her summer vacation. Courtney's beauty is inside, as well as out.

Now picture Courtney climbing inside the head of the collective of HIV positive kids she's had the privilege to know, creating a character named Emmy, based on them, and based on what she herself was like as an adolescent.

Courtney's new book Positively comes out Sept. 13. You fall in love with Emmy on page one. Courtney pulls you in at the first sentence and does not let you go until the last. I know genres are important in the publishing world, but I think calling this book a young adult novel limits it. This is a book for everyone.

And I'm not just saying this because she named two little side characters in the book "Riley" and "Seth" and used some of Seth's actual dialogue. That has nothing to do with my endorsement. I swear.

Positively will likely make you cry. I did, more than once.

But it will leave you with hope.

Order Positively for your young adult, but make sure you read it yourself before giving it to them! You won't want to miss it.

Congrats Courtney. You knocked it out of the park with this one.

*Read more about Courtney and her other books here and here.

A "Tip" From Jenny Rough

2009-08-29T22:10:00.004-04:00

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny.

You so craazy!

Potato Heaven

2009-08-29T22:00:00.000-04:00

My body wants potatoes. Not just any potatoes. Red potatoes chopped up and tossed into a glass pan. Drizzled with a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Throw in a chopped onion and a couple of cloves of chopped garlic. Add a beet if you like. Then, the most important part. Rosemary and Thyme. Use it liberally. Don't forget the sea salt.

Bake the whole concoction for an hour. Mix it around half way through. I don't know what temp I put it at. 375?

I can't get enough of the stuff. I don't know which ingredient I am responding to. I'm thinking it's the rosemary or the thyme. I've made the potatoes almost every night for a week. Last night I made a small pan, saved some for HT, and then went ahead and ate the rest before he got home. I rationalized with the argument "I carried two babies, I get the potatoes."

I am adapting my concoction daily with whatever produce we have. It's the Roasted Root Vegetables recipe on page 209 of The Whole Life Nutrition Cookbook. So easy! So delicious! Thank you Kathy for suggesting this cookbook. I love it!

Tonight I made a bigger pan. Keep your fingers crossed for HT.

The Day Seth First Rode His Bike, (and Riley Didn't)

2009-08-29T08:00:00.001-04:00

Come read about it over at Hopeful Parents today.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

Print This Off

2009-08-28T16:18:00.006-04:00

If you are interested in buying food without GMO's here is a guide. Print it off and take it with when you grocery shop. We vote at the cash register.

Here's to your health(that's me raising a glass of organic wine in your honor).

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

I Beg Your Pardon Amish Kitty

2009-08-26T23:00:00.002-04:00

On Saturday, we visited two farms who sell products at the local farmer's market. It was part of our effort to know where our food is coming from. One of the farms is run by an Amish family. They have 11 beautiful children and lots of animals. They are entirely self sustained, with no electricity!

Anyway, we were asked before entering the Amish farm to please respect the request of the Amish people not to be photographed. Taking pics of the buildings was okay, but not the people.

Riley fell in love with the cats there, and asked me to take a photo of a tiny orange kitten.

As I began focusing my camera, Seth, his face twisted with concern tugged at my elbow and whispered,

"Mom. What if the kitten is Amish?"

Sometimes a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do...

2009-08-25T22:48:00.008-04:00

RILEY, YOU PUT THAT BOOK DOWN RIGHT NOW AND COME BRUSH YOUR TEETH OR I WILL TAKE IT AND YOU WILL BE GROUNDED FROM BOOKS FOR TWO DAYS!
Perhaps I went for the jugular, but in my defense, it was late, and I'd already asked her nicely several times.

Ask Lydia

2009-08-25T07:00:00.001-04:00

Lydia is a young woman with autism who wants to write a book. She is thinking perhaps a question and answer format might be the way to go and is seeking questions. As a parent of a child on the spectrum I have plenty of questions and I bet a lot of you do too.

It's one thing to ask the experts. It's another thing to ask the experts. Those actually living with autism. I think we stand to learn a lot from this born teacher. Don't you?

If you have something you'd like to ask Lydia, use the link above and post your question in her comments.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

*Riley's photos...because Lydia loves cats.

The Possibility of Everything

2009-08-24T06:34:00.000-04:00

Hope Edelman is the author of Motherless Daughters, a wonderful book on mother loss and how it effects girls/women.

Motherless Daughters was a very important book. Women who lost their moms physically and many whose mothers are still alive but not in their lives in a meaningful way found great comfort reading Edelman's words. Her book inspired many Motherless Daughter's groups and much healing came as a result of it. I recently gave it as a gift to a new friend who shared with me how she lost her mother at age four.

While Motherless Daughters was full of anecdotes and personal stories it had a very rational journalistic vibe. My favorite parts of the book were when Edelman broke apart from the journalism and shared her own personal stories. I wanted more of that.

I think I'm really going to love The Possibility of Everything.

Pre-order The Possibility of Everything here.

We were in Canada this week...

2009-08-22T08:24:00.010-04:00

When we first moved here I met a woman, who told me her daughter had severe crippling rheumatoid arthritis several years ago. She was eight at the time and could no longer walk. They began taking the child to a doctor of Chinese medicine in Canada, and the girl is now a teen with no signs of the disease.

Riley had been been making steady progress. I don't like to mess with her when she is in a good place so I never made an appt. I filed the info in the back of my brain.

But no one can figure out this thing with Seth. And I'm sick of it. Every time he gets sick he gets another tic. And I feel like I'm watching something slowly happening to my baby. And I don't believe long term heavy antibiotics will benefit him. And I have big reservations about IVIG, a blood product, because it may help but it isn't getting to the real route of the problem.

Sunday night as I was going to bed, Todd and I were talking and I told him about a fear I have. You see I have this area of soreness, on my left breast. Almost my armpit really. It has been there for years. It is very tender. I have had mammograms. Breast exams. Nothing ever shows up. No gynecologist ever takes it seriously. But my sister had breast cancer (though she has the gene for it and I don't) and what if there were environmental triggers that contributed to it? We drank the same water growing up. Anyway, Todd knew about the breast, but didn't know the extent of my fear. Fear that I will die of breast cancer and not be here for my kids. He listened. Tried to reassure me. We put it away and went to bed.

Monday we left for Middle Bass Island on Lake Erie. Two days there, and then we would head up to Canada, for Seth. Middle Bass Island was a disaster. We stayed at a roach motel (well not really roaches but spiders and ants), and left one day early. More on that another time. Or not. Not sure I want to give it more energy.

In Canada, we met the doctor and it was all very "alternative" which we are used to, because we have done a ton of alternative medicine with Riley. I made appts for both kids because what the hell? We were already there.

She told me Riley is not in her body. It's more like she's observing it from a few feet above, and with a critical eye. She said things that ground her, in the body, like the therapeutic martial arts she's doing and music, (and a sweet dog planting its head in her lap) are all very good things. She also very firmly told me Riley is stronger than I think.

The doctor suspects genetically modified foods are the underlying factor with Seth. I KNEW IT WAS DIET! I'm not sure if I'm describing it right but from what I understood she said antibiotics are used in the "modification" process, and they escape into the food and wreck the normal flora in very sensitive people, causing all kinds of systemic problems. She said my kids are both ULTRA sensitive in every way. But we knew that, didn't we?

Afterward, when we were talking, and the kids were playing on the floor, I asked what she thought of bio-identical hormones. Told her just the tiniest two second bit about my early journey into menopause. She was sitting at her desk, Todd and I were sitting across from her. She looked over the desk at me, then looked down with a confused but focused expression as she abruptly clasped her hand over her left breast, over the exact spot mine has been sore for years, and said, very seriously, "What's going on with your breast?"

I had said nothing about my breast.

Todd and I immediately looked at each other. I grinned. He almost fell off his chair.

She got me up on her table, and did some things. Assured me I am not dying of breast cancer. Gave us three bags of supplements to take (one for Riley, one for Seth, one for mommy). The soreness in my breast is almost completely gone two days later.

Eastern medicine has been around for thousands of years.

Western medicine, two hundred.

For the most part, Western medicine seems like a cocky teenager to me.

Eastern medicine seems like a wise old grandparent.

I always loved my Gramma.

*Photo from Niagara Falls. We stopped there for a picnic on our way to the doctor. Riley had never seen a real rainbow before. It was something she'd been wishing for forever. Though she did make it clear she would have preferred the rainbow to be reaching across the sky rather than merely hovering above the water.

Southern GF/CF

2009-08-21T07:42:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite readers has started a new blog in which she shares her gluten free/casein free recipes. She lives in the "deep south," and most of her recipes have a southern flair.

-Potato salad

-Pecan pie

-Chicken cornbread dressing.

Admit it. You drooled a little just now.

You don't have to be GF/CF to enjoy these recipes. You don't even have to be southern!

Run on over to visit Southern GF/CF.

Bring me back a caramel bar, okay?

Love.

10 Seconds a Day

2009-08-20T07:00:00.001-04:00

Dr. Laura Berman, Oprah's Sexpert, says if you and your partner kiss ten seconds a day, it will add a lot of Va-Va-Voom! to your relationship.

We tried it.

She's right.

Just taking ten seconds to pause, and connect through kissing. I know we're all busy, but ten seconds a day! Who doesn't have that?

Plus, lucky for me, HT is a great kisser. Too much information? I don't think so. Tribute.

Of course if he eats onions, which he's prone to do, all bets are off.

Ya' got that tough guy?

Also, "You gonna' do something about those sideburns?"*

*A favorite quote from Seinfeld's "Sponge Worthy" episode.

**The Kiss, Klimt 1908

*** Kathy Griffen is in Cleveland tonight and we're going!

Vote for Rafe!

2009-08-19T06:50:00.007-04:00

The tiny pup you see (under the stuffed animal's ear) is Rafe, a 4 Paws for Ability dog. The All American Pet Company is sponsoring a Cutest Dog Competition and the winner will receive a million dollars! Think of what 4 Paws could do with that money! And isn't Rafe truly the cutest?
All you need to do to help out the wonderful organization improving the quality of life for so many special needs kids by providing them with highly trained service dogs is click here and vote for Rafe. It's quick and painless. Wook at the widdle bitty puppy! Who's in?

Thanks so much.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

P.S. 54 days 'til we meet Riley's dog!

Is That the Best You Got?

2009-08-18T07:00:00.001-04:00

I've noticed over the past several years, the tendency of certain people to sign off e-mails and letters with:

"Best,"

Now granted, I'm not a high faluten wordsmith,but I'm sick of it.

Best what?

Best wishes? Best regards? Best friends? Best butt?

Here's hoping you have the best day ever? I best be wrappin' up this correspondence?

It's for the best if you never submit anything to us again?

And why is it mostly literary people who do this? It doesn't make sense? Yeah, yeah, I can put it in context, all the best, whatever, but I've never once had anyone outside the writing world end correspondence with "Best."

I challenge those of you who routinely use "best" to think of a new sign off. A less lofty one. I mean, "Best?" The pressure! After all, nobody is perfect.

Your suggestions for replacement sign offs are welcome in the comments. Until then...

Good enough,

MO'N

The Sleep Over

2009-08-15T10:14:00.012-04:00

A couple of weeks back, Riley was on a play date with one of her Circle of Friends friends. The mom is a substitute teacher at the school. She is one of those very involved school moms, always there. Knows every kid, etc. She has seen Riley at her absolute worst at school, having huge screaming meltdowns.

When I picked Riley up from her two hour play date she threw out casually,"We should think about a sleep over sometime."

Riley had been dreaming of a sleep over for months. She knew all the other little girls did it, and she wanted to do it too. In my mind, when she talked of sleep overs, there was no way in hell she would be ready for one any time soon, but this situation seemed somehow different.

1) Highly involved mother. Receptive to Riley. Not judgy. Has already seen Riley meltdown and still invited her.

2) Little girl is sweet and kind, and also sometimes shy, and is an only child so there would not be the overwhelm of too many people in the form of sibs.

3)They live two streets over. A five minute walk.

4)RILEY WANTS TO GO.

When we presented the idea to Riley she literally jumped for joy.

So the day of the sleep over arrived. Riley began counting down the hours and minutes as soon as she woke up. I was worried she might just wear herself out before the event with all the lead up stress.

There was a bit of a snit when it was determined I would not be running out and buying her another sleeping bag (her old Care Bear one is for babies),as she would not need it in the 90 degree weather we were having.

We packed her bag. Killed an hour putting her in the shower and giving her a pedicure. I let her and Seth watch extra TV to distract her.

On the walk over, she reached for my hand. Gave it a squeeze. She was nervous, but she was doing it. She'd made a decision. She was going! She let go of my hand. A few steps later, she grabbed it again. She let go again.

I dropped off my daughter at 5:30PM and would not be picking her up until the next day at 10:00AM.

After one on one with Seth, I put him to bed, and then I cried. Tears of joy for her and pride and relief, and how could this be? I zipped off a request for pep talks and felt soothed the second I pressed "send." Even before the replies from my sistah's came rushing back to me. Thank you ladies.

I woke in the night, tossing and turning, missing a limb. How could she be "out there" dangling in the world someplace without me? Without Todd? Without Seth? She is so vulnerable.

She is safe.
She is safe.
She is safe.
She is safe.

Riley had a great time. The two little girls slept in one big bed, and stayed up late, giggling. They had pancakes for breakfast. She totally did it.

~~~

The light of God surrounds her;
The love of God enfolds her;
The power of God protects her;
The presence of God watches
over her;
Wherever Riley is, God is,
and all is well.*
-Amen

*Unity prayer for protection

"I thought this night couldn't get any better, and then it did." - Seth

2009-08-13T22:02:00.004-04:00

Seth and I came home, and he played with the Light Bright while I did the dishes. Then, we made cookies together. He mixed with the big wooden spoon and rolled the dough in his freshly washed hands. He snuck as much batter as I would allow. Dropped a cookie on the floor and obeyed the ten second rule.

As I was putting the supplies away, I came across a box of glow sticks I'd meant to give the kids on July 4th, but somehow they got stashed away and forgotton about. I let Seth stay up late, and we went for a night walk, just me and him. We walked for a solid hour, in the dark, adorned in neon glow sticks and Seth talked non-stop. He told me it was hard for him to adjust sleeping in his new room when we moved here. He told me all about an episode of Chowder he'd seen recently. He thanked me fifty times for taking him on a night walk and letting him stay up late. He told me he wanted to do this every night.

When we got back to the house, we chased fire flies in the front yard. We took turns running across the yard with the neon bracelets, marveling at how they look like Slinkys when you run. He told me, "I'm so glad you let me see the night, because now I know I don't have to be afraid of the dark."

He said, "Mommy I really love one on ones."

Then, he said it again.

Tucking him in he said, "When we were making cookies I thought this night couldn't get any better, and then it did."

He is sound asleep in his sister's bed right now. All comfy cozy amongst her pillows and blankets, with a bunch of his own stuffed animals thrown in for good measure.

I love this boy with all my heart and soul.

Riley is on her first sleep over at a friend's house tonight.

I'm Saving My Urine, Don't Judge

2009-08-13T09:22:00.001-04:00

We've got a stinky varmint problem here. Skunks. A skunk (or maybe a whole family of them) is living somewhere on or around our property, and at night it is spraying near the driveway, just below our bedroom windows. We wake, choking on skunk fumes. No matter how hot the weather, we have to close the windows. We're dying here! Not only have we lost sleep, but the scent lingers throughout the following day. This is happening once or twice a week.

Bleary eyed, 4:00AM, I'm on the "I"nternet, googling HOW TO GET RID OF SKUNKS.

Fox urine. You can buy pellets, and sprinkle them all over your yard. Skunks are afraid of fox. That's what it says. I'll do it. I'll order some.

They have chat boards dedicated to the topic, and someone says human urine works too.

Skunks are afraid of humans.

Obviously not too afraid to camp out on their property, but perhaps afraid of being peed on by them.

HT, not being a team player, simply refuses to go outside and tinkle around our property line. So, while I wait for the fox pee to arrive, I'm also collecting a 24 hour urine. Late at night, all stealth like, when the neighbors can't see, I'll be pouring it around our perimeter.

Take that skunks. Let's see how you like it.

I like to cover all my bases.

*photo calgarywildlifecontrol.ca

John and Jeanie Fly

2009-08-11T22:18:00.005-04:00

Are you lucky enough to ever have had one of those flying dreams? I did, back in 1994. I was flying with Riley. She wouldn't be born for another six years. I didn't know her by name, but whatever, it was her.

A couple of days ago, I had another flying dream. This time I was flying with Seth. We were lifting off, and the acceleration was profound and exhilarating. I was still his mom, but he was older. Full grown. A healthy vital young man. We had deep love and respect for each other.

I've had at least one other flying dream that I remember. The most recent dream was inspired, I'm sure, by the book I was reading, a novel filled with suspense, about a couple who masters unassisted human flight. Their new ability takes them on quite an adventure, weaving Law of Attraction concepts throughout. See why me likey so much? John and Jeanie Fly is also a love story about two people who found each other later in life(not elderly, but after previous relationships, children, etc.) and use Law of Attraction principles to maintain the balance of their current relationship and their lives.

If you like Richard Bach's stuff, (Johnathan Livingston Seagull), or The Celestine Prophecy, you might enjoy it.

This is the author's website. I especially enjoyed reading his "About the Book" section and his decision to self publish. I plan on staying tuned to see where this goes. The Abraham-Hicks books have been one best seller after another. It isn't like there isn't a market for this stuff. The publishing industry seems kind of broken or at least in transition. At the Omega writing workshop I went to recently, one of the commercially successful and published panelists made a point that while the baby boomers are the big readers, she was shocked to discover most industry decisions are being made by a bunch of people in their twenties and thirties. There is a disconnect. There has to be another way.

It may not be by conventional means, but I believe John and Jeanie Fly, will fly.

In the meantime, I wonder if I can figure out where I was in the book the night I had that dream? Maybe if I read it again, I'll have another flying adventure in my sleep?

Do any of you fly in your dreams? I'd love to hear about it.

I'm off to bed. Wish me luck.

Letter to BD

2009-08-11T06:30:00.002-04:00

Dear Dog,

I'm sorry to be so informal but since we don't know who you are yet, Dog it will have to be. Wait, Beautiful Dog is better. Yes, yes, much. Ahem.

Dear Beautiful Dog,

I'm writing to let you know how much we are looking forward to meeting you in October. We are aware you have been working so very hard, training for hundreds of hours to be able to help our sweet Riley when she is overwhelmed. You will find Riley to be an extremely loving person, and very smart, like you.

I stumbled upon this today and it gave me so much hope. Beautiful Dog, I appreciate your willingness to come into this time/space continuum to co-create with my child. You don't have to do it. Lots of dogs don't make it through the service dog program, but you will, because it's who you are. You want to help. I take you seriously, Beautiful Dog.

You will like it here. Cleveland is really beautiful. Lots of wonderful things to sniff. We'll take good care of you. If the cats are rude at first, don't take it personally. You'll win them over. I know you will. We'll be stocking up on toys for you, and we are in the process of installing a privacy fence for the yard. We have a big yard and you'll have lots of room to run. We also have a great neighborhood for walks, so you'll be getting lots of those. All the neighbor dogs are getting excited to meet you as well.

Well, just wanted to let you know we're thinking of you. Thanks for your determination to get through the program. Make sure you are getting enough water in this heat. Be strong Beautiful Dog!

We already love you.

The O'Neils

~
*photo from the fund raising concert back in Dec. 2008.

Ruth Rocks!

2009-08-10T06:14:00.004-04:00

I love blogging. I love connecting with people through blogging. See the little kitty cat rock above? Poopsie's daughter Ruth, who has sensory processing issues, sent it to Riley. I actually am buying it from her for a dollar, but she made it especially special for my girl. Look at the intricate detail! All the stripes. The ears. The nose and mouth! The pink base color. Riley was thrilled to receive a package, and even more thrilled to get Ruth's cat. A cat! But wait, there's more!

Poopsie sent us inspirational coins. One for Riley. One for Seth. One for me.

Riley's says, Just believe, and on the back it says, Live by faith. One day at a time.

Seth's says Spread joy, and on the back it says, Life is fun. Live it with a smile.

Mine says, Inspire others, and on the back it says, Plant hope, grow love.

We can just keep them in our pockets, and every time we touch them, we can think about the good and kind people in the world, who do nice things. They are the perfect texture for using as a sensory worry type of thing. Nice and smooth, but with variations in the flatness. I LOVE them.

I love that Poopsie and Ruth thought of us. I love Ruth's creativity. I love how people are so kind. Did I mention I love blogging?

Thank you Poopsie, so much!!!

Just believe.

Live by faith.

One day at a time.

Spread Joy.

Life is fun.

Live it with a smile.

Inspire Others.

Plant Hope.

Grow Love.

Shirley You Jest

2009-08-09T08:19:00.003-04:00

Shortly after we moved here, the kids were having fun on a local playground and a little girl came up to Riley and asked her name. When Riley said, "Riley" the little girl made a horrible sneering face and said, "That's a boy name."

This has added so much to Riley's social anxiety. She dreads telling anyone new her name for fear of a similar reaction. She talks often of plans to change her name, as soon as she can. Maybe when she's 13. On a walk recently we were discussing it, and I asked why 13? Her response floored me. Her idea is, when you are a teenager you start having boyfriends, and it will be important to have a pretty name by then, so boys will like her.

Holy, holy, holy, what?

Why don't you just stick a knife in my heart and twist it? Apparently I have a lot of work to do, teaching about valuing ourselves, and putting our relationship with ourselves and our Source before caring what any boy thinks of us. I've given up convincing her Riley is a beautiful name. She won't hear it.

I gulped, biding my time, trying not to show my horrified reaction, and asked, "So have you decided on any names?"

"I'm thinking Shirley," she said.

Smelly Cat

2009-08-08T08:50:00.007-04:00

One of our daily rituals is the family sing along of Smelly Cat as I change the litter box. The kids don't know much about a show called Friends, but they know the words to Smelly Cat by heart.

We fit it in during our morning routine.

One time I complained, "Uck! This litter box stinks!"

Seth looked at me sternly,

"Mom. They can hear you."

Let it be known...

2009-08-07T22:42:00.000-04:00

Seth O'Neil learned how to ride a two wheeler for the first time today. So proud of you buddy!

xo

Mommy

Food,Inc.

2009-08-07T17:14:00.005-04:00

Just heard an hour long interview with the director of Food, Inc. on XM radio with Dr. & Lisa Oz. The message is hopeful. Demand good food. Buy organic. With each purchase you are voting.

Love.

Camp

2009-08-07T08:00:00.002-04:00

Riley has been attending a day camp this week, put on by her therapeutic martial arts school. She's been meditating, creating art about what she saw in meditation, doing yoga, learning emotional freedom techniques, dancing, cooking healthy food, working on social skills, doing martial arts, and much more I probably don't even know about.

I am envisioning a similar camp for moms of kids with special needs. We'd do all of the above, but with manis and pedis, and massage.

But as I was envisioning, I thought about another camp. This one for the dads of kids with special needs. HT works long hours, and lots of overtime, to pay for everything our kids need. For a few years, he came home only to be greeted by a crazy lady who would hand him the kids and run. He'd get desperate phone calls in the middle of the work day and have to talk me off the ledge. I know the pressure I'm under, but I don't really know his. What's it like to balance the financial responsibility, watch your kids struggle, and also watch the love of your life fall apart? And men. What's with them? They basically talk to no one. Stay at home dads face their own set of challenges and stigma. Do they talk about it? I don't know. There would be forced talking at my camp for men! We won't put that on the brochure. The men definitely need a camp.

Therapeutic camp for families. My wheels are turning.

Who's in?

Allow Me Tell You About My Rack

2009-08-06T07:00:00.006-04:00

He picks up the phone and I whisper into my cell as I walk out of Macy's,

"I have something important to tell you."

"What?"

"I have big boobs."

"Huh?"

"Did you know this, and if so, why didn't you tell me?" I ask him.

He has nothing to say for himself.

I hate bras. They are the first thing to go when I enter my home, sometimes before shoes. I unhook it and slip mine off through the ole shirt sleeve, toss it at HT and say, "Woo-hoo! Free & easy!"

And we laugh!

Bras are just so darn uncomfortable. But the kids are getting older. It's a bit uncool to walk around braless once they start noticing. And they have. Trust, my kids are not subtle. Stare much? Anyway, Carrie said I needed to be properly fitted. Oh Carrie. What would I do without you?

All my life, I'd been walking around minding my own business, smallish in a B cup, and whattya know? I'm a fricking D now! No wonder the discomfort?

So, I hadn't been fitted properly in about 13 years. So, I've had two kids. My feet started out at 6 1/2 and I now wear a 7 1/2. Why wouldn't a change in bra size occur to me?

I'm in my D now, feeling comfy. Supported but not squished.

Ladies, say it with me, "Bras should not hurt."

Go get fitted.

No need to thank me.

Thank Carrie.

Babymouse

2009-08-05T06:56:00.008-04:00

Just home from the book store with her dad, Riley is beaming. She has in her possession the two Babymouse books she's yet to read. There is a whole series and she is absolutely in love with them. They are graphic novels.

"Mom. Maybe you could put Babymouse on your blog!"

"Sure, Honey."

"And maybe you could say, "My daughter is crazy about Babymouse."

"I'll do it."

She grins.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Babymouse. My daughter is crazy about her. Therefore, so am I.

Now a looky through the boy's lens...

2009-08-04T06:24:00.005-04:00

Testosterone anyone? Not a fluffy kitty to be found.
Of course we have a photo of his clay collection from summer day camp. What's this? Clockwise we have a guitar that looks like a fish, a red music shaker, a giraffe, a mug, a bell, and of course, a burrito. Why wouldn't he have made a clay burrito? Just because he wouldn't eat one if you paid him a million dollars doesn't mean he has no appreciation for Mexican cuisine.

GRRRR.

Death.

Destruction.

Don't let him fool you though. He's a softy.

I don't recall the girl I spent 26 hours birthing taking any shots of her mom, but whatever. They've taken over a thousand pictures in the last couple of weeks.

Remind me to hide the digital camera.

No Words Necessary

2009-08-03T12:50:00.002-04:00

Lisa Oz on Paul Offit

2009-08-02T16:28:00.012-04:00

Last week, Dr. Mehmet Oz interviewed Dr. Paul Offit on his XM radio show. Offit is the most outspoken MD in the U.S. on alleged vaccine safety.

Dr. Oz was able to speak to Offit in his own language, and disarm him quite a bit I thought. He got a lot of good questions in, and Offit had his canned answers at the ready, but it didn't get heated, and both men seemed to respect each other.

Dr. Oz's wife Lisa is usually there for the show, and though she was not part of the interview, she made her opinions known during the "post-op," which they have after every show. These are the points she made:

-The idea of "trust me I'm a doctor" is the height of arrogance.

-There is no transparency in the vaccine industry, and Offit has a big financial interest in vaccines (he's made millions and millions off of them).

-The idea that parents who say their child had an adverse reaction to a vaccine in reality just didn't recognize their child was always autistic is INSULTING.

-Parents are smart enough to make informed decisions regarding which vaccines are appropriate for their children.

-The Oz children are all vaccinated (though according to her remarks on a previous show, it didn't happen according to the AMA schedule, and they don't get flu shots).

I really hesitated to write this, and I'm turning my comments off for this post. I don't want to start a heated political autism battle here. What I do want to say is this,

If you are a parent concerned about vaccines, do your homework. If you decide to vaccinate, do it on your terms. Don't be bullied by arrogant doctors. Do it if you are 100% committed. Do it on your schedule. If you have doubt, do more research until your doubt is settled. If you decide not to vaccinate now, you can always do it a little later. Understand what is in each vaccine. Look at the ingredients. Investigate the true need for booster shots, flu shots. Own your parental authority.

1 in 150 kids in the U.S. has autism today.

1 in 84 boys.

I think it's worth noting the wife of "America's doctor" has questions.

Love.

Charlie's House

2009-07-31T22:34:00.009-04:00

Every time I see a national disaster my heart immediately goes out to the families of children with autism involved. Kids with autism need order. They need sameness. They can flip out if their favorite cup isn't clean. Imagine what happens inside of them if their home is suddenly destroyed? It is crises ramped up 100 notches for these families.

Unfortunately this is exactly what is happening to a friend of this blog.

Many of you are probably familiar with Jeanne of Charlie in Wonderland. Yesterday her home was devastated by a tornado. They got out with Charlie's supplements, his robots and his Legos, and that is about it.

Jeanne is an incredible bio-med mom whose child has made tremendous progress since his regression into autism. She has dedicated her life to helping Charlie, and many other families through her relentless advocacy.

Charlie's family will be living with relatives for months until their home can be rebuilt. Tori Duncan at Lend 4 Health has set up a special "Chip In" to help this good family get back on its feet.

My heart goes out to Charlie tonight and to everyone who loves him. Sleep well little man. People care.

*Image from Jeanne's blog.

Razor Giveth,Razor Taketh Away

2009-07-31T11:40:00.015-04:00

Riley has begun riding a razor scooter. She is very tentative. Very careful. It is all push, push, pushing as she lacks the balance to hop on and glide, but she is trying. She is really trying. Seth's been riding his razor for a year now, and he's a whiz, but Riley, uncharacteristically, is letting that little fact slide. She's persevering!

The other night she wiped out and cut her knee. I'd been out front weeding, and I saw her sitting on the sidewalk half way down the street, but she wasn't screaming and crying so I didn't know she had fallen. Finally, Seth zipped up to me on his scooter and said, "She's hurt!" I walked down to see what was up.

"Riley are you okay?"

All the color had drained from her face, "It's just...I can't look at this blood," she squeaked.

There was a bright red trickle at her knee, slowly making a trail down her shin. We made our way back to the house, her hobbling, me holding her hand, and steering the scooter with my other one. Seth whizzed on by, threw his scooter in the front yard and raced into the house.

I sat her on the front steps and ran in to get a washcloth and the Littlest Pet Shop band aids the very thoughtful Darby had sent recently. Seth was fiddling at the dining room table with something or other.

Back outside she flinched as I washed the dirt off her knee. She flinched as I put the band-aids in place. Just then a little paper airplane made its way over Riley's head and landed at her feet. Seth had made it, and on it he'd drawn a sad, crying face, and then a happy one. Another plane shot by. On this one was a rough sketch of a "cut" and on the other side, a "cut that was healed." This is the sad to happy one.

He was trying to help her visualize.He's so little he can't quite get the concept of not attaching the smile to the eyes, but he "gets" the concept of visualization.

Next, he ran back in the house and came out with a glass of cold water for her. She declined. He stood there, concerned.

He looked at the glass, the cold water fogging it up in the outside heat, and asked her.

"Then do you mind if I drink it?"

She said, no, she didn't mind.

He drank, took one more spin on his scooter, and then the three of us went inside for the evening.

Food for Thought

2009-07-30T08:10:00.004-04:00

As some of you know, a few years back we did the specific carb diet. It is wheat free/sugar free and we did it dairy free as well. We were looking for behavioral changes in Riley, hoping to alleviate her tummy issues and also help her anxiety. We did it for 18 months, strict. Not a morsel went into a mouth of this family that I didn't prepare from scratch. Surrendering to my kitchen was a spiritual experience for me.

We didn't notice any profound changes, but Riley continued to progress at a steady rate. We were always doing so many interventions at once, it was hard to tell what exactly was helping. It was probably all synergistic.

But after 18 months, with no hit you over the head, WOW! type of improvement, I got tired. It felt so restrictive to live that way if you didn't have to.

We slowly added foods back, one at a time, and saw no problems in doing so. We still eat cleaner than most American families. We buy organic. No preservatives. No partially hydrogenated anything. As few chemicals as possible. But I do let them have what they want at festivals, parties, etc. That my kids were eight and six before they ever got a Happy Meal at McDonalds is one of my sources of pride.

But Todd recently had a health issue and eliminating wheat has helped him. And Seth is having all sorts of auto-immune trouble. And so maybe bringing back more consciousness to what we are eating is in order. We have sorta gotten out of whack. I hardly cook anymore. Annie's mac and cheese and organic hot dogs and chicken nuggets have become the the order of the day.

And then I stumbled upon this post. And I'm thinking, yes, I'm onto something. Hang on Seth. We've got you buddy.

*The blog above has actually moved to Wordpress, if you want to see further posts by the same authors click here.

Everyone is doing it!

2009-07-29T07:00:00.017-04:00

Jess is doing it.

Kyra is doing it.

Carrie is doing it.

Today I'm even doing it!

Come be "Hopeful" with me, won't you? Grab your coffee. I'll meet you there.

Better Now

2009-07-28T14:34:00.003-04:00

Took some time to change focus.

-With contrast comes expansion.

-Seth is joyful!

-Mom knows how to step out of problem space to find solution space.

-Seth wants perfect health.

-We have financial means to help him.

-The larger part of Seth is already well. Most of his cells are working just fine. He eats, breathes, grows.

-Seth is pure love.

-Seth is an uplifter, a teacher.

-Seth's family adores him.

-God adores Seth.

-Things have a way of working out.

-The power that created Seth remains in Seth.

I'm a bit preoccupied...

2009-07-28T10:30:00.007-04:00

Seth got strep two weeks ago and once again his body is wracked with neurological tics. His head is shaking, his arm is doing an involuntary hammer fist type of motion. His leg shakes. And of course his vocal tic is loud and often. I was waiting the whole time at Mary Poppins Saturday for someone to turn around and say something. He got a couple of "looks" but no one came right out and said anything to us. People think it's voluntary. They think he's being obnoxious. During the show I sat there wondering if they had any special seating for people with neurological issues. Should those with Tourette's or something similar be banned from the theater? People pay good money for their tickets. Shouldn't they be allowed to watch the show without being distracted by the "glunk, glunk, glunk" of a little boy sitting behind them?

No answers here.

We've got some major decisions to make regarding Seth's health. Blood tests have determined he is IgG deficient. He doesn't make antibodies to fight infections. This is why he missed 25 days of school last year. This is why he was covered in viral molluscum a couple of years back. I did a geriatric rotation in nursing school and he looks like a Parkinson's patient. What the hell is happening to the myelin in his brain? Some doctors call it PANDAS. Some doctors don't believe in PANDAS. Isn't that funny? To have that option? "I don't believe in it." So there.

-Do we put him on long term prophylactic antibiotics to prevent future strep occurrences? But...if his immune system is so weak, and he is susceptible to infections, do we want him to build up antibiotic resistance?

-Do we start a long and extremely expensive process of IVIG, which is a blood product and therefore always risky?

-There are a couple of new supplements to try. Enhansa is what we are going with first. It is anti-viral, anti-fungal. It might give his immune system a boost and allow him to fight off infection better. Tastes like hell and will be hard to get into him.

-Do I go back to a restrictive diet? Cut out wheat again? Cut out all sugar again? We did this for 18 months. We were looking for behavioral changes in Riley. Didn't see those, but we were all pretty healthy during that time.

Trying to keep my head on straight.

Seth is okay. He's at day camp, having fun, despite the tics. Right this minute, right this second, we are all okay.

Stay in the moment.

Breathe.

We'll figure it out.

Touche'

2009-07-27T09:32:00.002-04:00

Riley has been having a hard time learning her latest form in martial arts. So I took the camcorder, with the intention of asking the teacher to go slow so she could practice at a home while watching the tape.

Prior to class, I was testing the video recorder in the hall. It didn't work last time I tried this, the battery was not right, but anyway, I started recording the kids, interviewing them, making sure we were all set.

I asked Seth some questions. He zoomed in and out like Letterman, extreme close up, backing up, back to the camera again. He is such a goof. Then I grilled Riley for a bit. What's it like to be nine? Why do you like cats so much? Where'd you get that dimple? As I was wrapping it up I asked her, jokingly, "How much do you love your mother?"

She looked into the camera, paused and said,

"More than you love yourself."

Nowhere Near "Practically Perfect"

2009-07-26T09:34:00.002-04:00

Cleveland has a wonderful theater district, and we went to see Mary Poppins yesterday. The show was great. Riley and Seth were mesmerized. Three years ago Riley could not handle a middle school production of The Pirates of Penzance. Today she was fine with the special effects. The loud applause. I was positively giddy with how far we'd come. The play was fantastic. The crowd gave a standing ovation (for a matinee)!

The theaters are quite ancient here, and the exit plans are not the best. Traffic becomes very congested in the huge lobby as people file out. I've found this out myself on several occasions, so thought it best if we remained in our seats until the place cleared out a bit. I wanted to save Riley the jostling and sensory overwhelm of the masses.

She went nuts.

She assumed all of the people leaving were pointing at her, making big imaginary L's on their foreheads, knowing she has Asperger's, knowing she can't handle crowds, thinking she's "a baby." At this point the crowd was thick, the lobby would be sardines by now, and she was already upset. We continued to sit. We tried to talk her through it, but she just wailed louder and louder. Seth sat in his seat, nonchalant. Todd and I kept speaking softly to her, reassuring her, and then, I lost it.

The plummet from so high, to so low was too much for me. 999 times out of 1000 I can handle whatever she throws my way, but not this day. I was done.

"Riley. We have had such a good day. No one knows or cares why we are sitting here. If you are embarrassed, you are the only one drawing attention to yourself." I felt my blood start to boil. I was so sick of this. "This is such a stupid thing to be upset about," I snarled through gritted teeth.

Instantly, I hated myself for chastising her. Who is to say what is valid to be worried or upset about? I do not live in her body. I'd throttle someone else if they said that to her. And then I just stopped talking and felt my throat tighten. I willed myself to knock it off and get it together, but I felt the tears welling up. All the old familiar, I hate my life, I hate this, I'm so sick of this, why, why, why can't we ever just have fun feelings came bubbling up to the surface. Biting my lip, I tried my best to hide my face from the kids. I dabbed at my eyes quick with a greasy napkin Seth had used for his pretzel.

Todd looked at me confused. I routinely diffuse much tougher Riley moments, with one hand tied behind my back. His concerned expression begged the question, "Tears? For this?"

Finally we got going.

In the lobby it was still packed and Riley, a bit calmer now, reflexively reached for my hand. I honestly didn't feel like taking hers. Todd and Seth were in front of us. I wished we could trade kids but it would be too obvious. As we slowly made our way through the people she looked up at me, and asked,

"Are you okay?"

Looking straight forward, I nodded.

We walked a hundred more paces through the crowd and she asked,

"Are you sure you're okay? You look sad," she said sheepishly.

I nodded again, not willing to talk about it right then in the throng of people. Later, I would marvel that she noticed my emotion, showed concern, and asked about it twice! She never considers the effect her meltdowns might have on anyone else. At the moment however, I just felt mad. I held tight to her hand. I'd save her from the crushing mob if need be, but I didn't have to look at her.

And you know? Eight hours later I can see it more clearly. I thought we'd come so far, and then her meltdown at the theater felt like it was all a joke. Maybe she really hasn't come very far at all? Maybe I haven't either.

But now I see it for what it was. A mom getting angry at her kid. Like most moms are allowed to.

You do know parents of kids on the spectrum don't feel allowed to get angry at their kids,right? Because their kids can't help it? Plus, there is so much residual guilt from the times I lost my temper before I knew what was going on with her when she was a toddler.

Maybe I can let myself get mad at her because she now does have the capacity to understand she has an effect on others. She does have some control.

My intentions in deciding to stay in our seats were only to help her. I'm not proud of what I said to Riley, but maybe, just maybe, it doesn't have to mean we're not making progress.

Or maybe I'm just full of crap.

Mary Poppins, you might be "Practically Perfect," but I'm not.

Widget, Widget, Widget

2009-07-25T09:40:00.007-04:00

Did you all see my new little counter, over there on the right? Down a little? It tells us exactly how long, to the second, 'til we start in our training class at 4 Paws for Ability in October.

Heather's sweet son Noah (they are from SC)will be getting a dog and they will be in our class. She let me use her widget for the counter.

Thanks so much Heather!

P.S. The fashionista dog in the upper left picture is Piper, a dog in residence at 4 Paws but the other three are possible matches for Riley, (along with about 100 others).

P.S.S. Special thanks to my technical guy HT for installing the widget.

P.S.S.S. I like to say, "widget."

They had no plans to go anywhere when I went upstairs.

2009-07-24T10:12:00.004-04:00

I interrupt the hard hitting blowfish post below, to announce there is nothing more beautiful than when your son is at camp, and your husband has the day off, and you are holed up in your office writing, and you come downstairs to rinse your coffee cup and find a note on the kitchen table that says,

"We went to The Botanical Gardens."

Riley's summer camp was near The Botanical Gardens, and we've gone a lot this summer, but Todd had yet to go. I bet he let her pick what they would do today. I bet she wanted to show him everything there. I bet it wasn't his first choice on how to spend his day off. I bet there are a hundred other things he feels he needs to get done.

I bet he looked into her big eyes and said,"To hell with it all, my baby wants to share something with me."

And so off they went.

I bet she'll remember it forever.

*photo http://www.jcu.edu

Autism Community Store

2009-07-24T07:00:00.002-04:00

Looking for some cheap toys to satisfy your child's sensory needs? Check out Autism Community Store. They have great specials on all kinds of autism related things including nutritional supplements. A godsend for anyone who doesn't live near a Whole Foods. Looking at these toys reminds me of the hours and hours, and hours Riley put in at occupational therapy when she was tiny. No one works harder than my girl.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go buy her a blow fish.

Love.

Take Your Shirt Off and Cry

2009-07-23T07:00:00.008-04:00

A couple of years back I was at a writing salon in New York City and struck up a conversation with writer Nancy Balbirer. She was working on a book about her years trying to make it as an actor in NY and LA. I "ran into her" on shewrites.com, a new social networking site for women writers and found out the book she'd been working on had been published. She agreed to an interview for this blog, for which I am grateful and will forever think she's the coolest.

1) When/how did you decide to write your book?

I had been circling the questions posed by Beverly D’Angelo’s Former Manager (one of the people in the book, as well as the title of the second to last chapter…) for years: Why Aren’t You Successful? It was something that, at the time, I took as an affront: this guy, whom I did not know, but who nonetheless asked me to a meeting, ostensibly to discuss his representing me, was implying that, basically, I was a loser. I couldn’t escape the question and how pissed off I was about it. And THEN, I was literally haunted by Beverly D’Angelo’s Former Manager: he’d appear in dreams, when I was running on the treadmill, etc. and I knew it meant something beyond what my ego was so attached to. Once I had my daughter, a few years later when I was living back in New York, I started thinking about him again—chiefly, because I was thinking about my life pre-baby; who I was before and who I had become, and all the stories I would one day tell her. I knew how the stories ended, and what they were about, etc, except for the one about Beverly D’Angelo’s Former Manager, because I still had no answer for the question. And, that’s when I started to think that the question itself was perhaps far more important the answer. And almost instantly, this question, which I had once considered so hideous and awful, morphed into a thing of great possibility. I had, theretofore been looking at my failed acting career as a closed door, and in that instant, I began to imagine that closed door, instead, as a portal to a whole new life. I wondered what would happen if I embraced the notion that I was, in fact, a failure, and rather than running from it, reveling in it. At first, I thought it would be another solo show (which is the form of writing that I knew then and the only writing I had done at that time, really…), but once I started writing I knew pretty much instantly it was a memoir.

2) I was reading Take Your Shirt Off and Cry, and at the same time reading another memoir called The Guru Looked Good (two timin' you I was, thinking they were vastly different stories), about a woman who spent years in the Eat Pray Love ashram in India. Half way through, it occurred to me both books were about the same thing. Searching for love and acceptance somewhere outside ourselves. Self doubt. The "am I worthy?" question. The universal question!

Do you feel like you've been able to answer that question for yourself yet? Has being a parent upped the ante?

Well, being a parent, you really have to come to terms with your own shit. You just do. And, I knew I wanted to face some painful truths about myself—my shame and various disappointments, my various heartbreaks, etc, and had wanted to for years, but hadn’t out of some kind of irrational fear that in doing so, I would fall apart or spontaneously combust or whatever. Having my daughter made me very brave, because it wasn’t just about me anymore. And, you are absolutely right: Take Your Shirt Off and Cry is primarily about coming to terms with how very much I was looking outside of self for approval, for love and self-worth.

3) Your book was often heartbreaking (your golden retrievers!) but also so funny. I laughed out loud over the Joan Collins bathroom scene, over the names you give characters "Beverley D'Angelo's Former Manager," and so on. You also write about some really famous people, (some by name) were you afraid of their reactions? Has there been any fallout from their camps?

I think any memoirist feels scared or freaked out by the prospect of writing about their life, because in sharing your story, you are sharing the stories of others’ as well. I haven’t thus far had any fallout or negative feedback from anyone in the book—famous or otherwise. And my friends who appear in the book have all read it and felt comfortable about how they were portrayed and the accuracy of my memories. One funny side note on this: in the title chapter, there is a part about how promiscuous we all were in drama school and to illustrate just how slutty we all were, I divulge that there was once an entire Hamlet cast who gave one another crabs. I didn’t actually remember who was in that cast specifically anymore; it was a huge cast and a million years ago, and I only remembered that tidbit and how the whole drama department snickered about it at the time. So one day, a couple of months ago, I was having drinks with a few old friends from school and one of them—who’d just read the book—gleefully exclaimed: “I WAS IN HAMLET!!! I WAS ONE OF THE CRAB PEOPLE!!!”
I just about fell off the barstool, let me tell you!

4) What I appreciate about the book is- it is YOUR story. Sure there are celebs in it, but it isn't a tell all. They are bit characters in your very interesting story. Was there a temptation to just spill it and air dirty laundry?

Never. It’s not interesting to me. “Tell-Alls” might be dishy and great fun and all that, but they don’t provide much in the way of insight. I’m interested in literary memoir: how a person can tell a story about a specific life experience and make it universal enough to resonate for other people. The backdrop of my book is show business, which I was in for a long time. It would be virtually impossible to be in that world and NOT come into contact with famous people. But, as you said, they were really bit players in this story and as “characters” they work to illustrate, by virtue of their fame, the disparity between someone like me, who’s on the other side of the fame-fence and someone who’s “made it”. Most memoirs written by actors are from the point of view of someone who is ridiculously successful. Take Your Shirt Off and Cry is from the point of view of someone who was not, and hopefully this is what makes it relatable to people in or out of “The Business.”

5) How did you get your literary agent? I love "how I got my agent" stories.
Also, how is the lit agent process different than the acting agent process?
How are acting and writing linked, and how are they different?

One of my friends is the writer Cintra Wilson and she was always encouraging of my work, which was such a huge compliment because she is just a total genius. Anyway, when I first started writing down the stories that ultimately became Take Your Shirt Off and Cry, I’d give them to her and also to my other writer friend, Mike Albo, another absolutely fabulous writer, and they’d give me notes. When I was done with 3 chapters and a detailed chapter list, Cintra recommended I send them to her agent, Bill Clegg. I did and he called me pretty much right away and within a week, with his help, I had written a proposal letter, and the following week after that, we were meeting with a bunch of editors. This experience, by the way, is VASTLY different than the one I had as an actor. I had a much, much tougher time as an actor—even getting a decent agent at times seemed impossible! It didn’t hurt that I was extremely lucky to have such great and talented friends, who believed in me and supported me the way Cintra and Mike have, and also fortunate that an outstanding agent like Bill “got me” and loved the book so much. I am eternally grateful!!

Funny that you should ask about the differences between acting and writing, because I just wrote a piece about this very thing for Slate’s Double X that you can read here:
http://www.doublex.com/blog/yourcomeback/i-used-act-private-public-now-i-act-public-private

6) Have you bought yourself a new pea coat?

Too funny—you know what? Lately I have been OBSESSED with getting a new one!! I really want that same one I had from J. Crew, but I’m gonna also look in some thrift stores…

7) What are you working on now? More books?

I am working on a new book—another memoir, this one about my complicated relationship with my father. It will have some commingling with the time period Take Your Shirt Off and Cry takes place in, but mostly it will be about the period before that and also after. I’m also working on an idea for a play and a novel, as well.

Click here to see Nancy read a hilarious excerpt from Take Your Shirt Off and Cry.

Love is...

2009-07-21T19:32:00.006-04:00

Tonight at martial arts, Riley very politely asked to be excused. It is unlike her to leave class unless she's on the cusp of a meltdown, but my radar didn't go off. She didn't seem upset. Still, she ran out of the room. Perhaps she needed the bathroom? Before I could get up to check on her she was back and heading straight toward me.

"Mom," she whispered. "Where are the tissues?"

There was a box on a shelf right behind where I was sitting, so I reached back and handed her one. She took it and bowed back into class. All the students were lined up in a row. She went directly over to Seth, and wiped his nose.

84 Days and Counting

2009-07-21T07:00:00.006-04:00

When you are getting a dog through 4 Paws 4 Ability, there is of course a Yahoo message group for all involved, and on it yesterday someone who has a seizure alert dog for their non-verbal child said the kid had been crying for days and they couldn't figure it out and then the dog started licking the kid's ear, and then it really went at it, not giving it a rest, and then you guessed it, the child had an ear infection. The dog let them know.

There are so many ((love bugs)) whose families are still fund raising for their dogs. Read some of their stories here.

These are the dogs in training. Scroll down and behold. One of them will be Riley's!

12 more weeks!

Bring on the cuteness.

Woof!

Lullaby to Frank McCourt

2009-07-19T21:26:00.007-04:00

It was the first evening of the Omega memoir writing workshop. After a lively panel discussion, in which Malachy McCourt had everyone in stitches, it was time to call it a night. The moderator was bringing the group to a close, bodies were shifting, people tucking their notebooks into their bags, when Malachy raised his hand and reached for the microphone. He had one more thing he wanted to say.

The room got quiet.

"Many of you know and love my brother Frankie's work. Well, about five months ago he got melanoma, and he's in hospice. He's dying."

Malachy choked on his words. Wiped a tear.

"He got meningitis, and they say he has only about a week," he paused. "He's lost his vision. He's lost his hearing. He can't walk. I just wanted you to know, in case I act strange while we're here. I just wanted you to know what's going on," he said in his thick Irish accent. He hung his head a little.

Time slowed down. The air in the room changed. Malachy somehow looked lit up, but not from a back light or overhead fixture. There is a silence reserved for sacred moments. Birth and death. Words are meaningless. It hung in the air for a beat, and then out of the silence, out of the light, Malachy began to sing,

Oh, the summertime is comin'
And the trees are sweetly bloomin'
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go lassie, go?
And we'll all go together
To pluck wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather
Will ye go lassie, go?

And Malachy said, "Sing with me children."

He invited us into his pain. And some knew the words. And some learned them quickly, and each time he came to the chorus, more joined in.

Will ye go lassie, go?
And we'll all go together
To pluck wild mountain thyme
All around the bloomin' heather
Will ye go lassie, go?

"Sing with me children," he said

And we'll all go together
To pluck wild mountain thyme
All around the bloomin' heather

And we did sing.

Oh, the summertime is coming
And the trees are sweetly bloomin'
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the bloomin' heather
Will ye go lassie, go?

And we were helping. And we were blessed that night, to be singing a lullaby to Malachy's big brother Frankie, who meant so much to the world.

-Angela's Ashes

-Tis'

-Teacher Man

A Few Images From Omega

2009-07-18T09:40:00.008-04:00

This was the view as I walked up to the sanctuary for morning meditation.

This statue graced the entrance of the Ram Dass library on campus. I'm sure it has all kinds of symbolic meaning, but I just thought Riley and Seth would get a kick out of it.

And this, was the view from my hammock. Check out my tan lines.

~~~

"Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts.. if we can keep them open to God, will find their own intuitive way."

-Ram Dass

A Hip, Hop, A Hippy to the Hop and You Don't Stop...

2009-07-17T16:02:00.008-04:00

Seth is bouncing back nicely. His throat no longer hurts and he has some energy. The vocal tic is still quite pronounced but he's found a way to make it work for him. He and Riley have been playing dress-up all day, putting on skits. There has been a scene at a spa, a zoo, a library, a circus, and my favorite bar none has been the rap concert. Seth dragged my computer chair behind the piano bench, made a pseudo turn table, and pretended to spin records while he rapped.

"Mom! I think my tic is helping me rap!"

That's right, the "glunk" became part of the act.

"Boom-ticka-glunk-glunk, boom ticka-glunk."

"Ticka-ticka, pft,pft, glunk glunk glunk."

Play that funky music white boy.

So glad you are feeling better.

Counting My Blessings

2009-07-16T22:12:00.005-04:00

Seth missed 25 days of school last year due to illness. He has IgG defieciency which means his immune system is quite weak.

Tuesday he said his throat hurt. Today the tics started, full throttle. He looks like he has Parkinson's with the head nodding and hammer fisting, and "glunk, glunk, glunk" vocal tic. We got a positive strep result this morning. He was flat on his back all day.

So Riley spent the evening "making him feel better." She moved the mini trampoline in front of the couch where he'd been resting, and put on a little variety show. She jumped up and down and told him jokes. She did the chicken dance. She went over to the piano and played Michael Jackson's Bad. She read him excerpts from the latest stack of library books. She made a mustache out of paper and taped it to her face, then draped a purple blanket around herself and pretended to be a bull fighter. And, this one really gets me, she took his many Diggy Tick pages, and read him his own story, flipping each page as she went like an 80's INXS video.

He smiled for the first time all day.

Last night, Todd was working and I put Seth to bed on his mattress on the floor in Riley's room. He loves to sleep in there whenever we let him and his mattress was already in there from the night before. I was too tired to move it myself. Todd found him in the middle of the night lying on the bathroom floor. He'd been coughing and didn't want to wake up Riley. Or us.

He's six.

She's nine.

They certianly come with their challenges, but I could not ask for better kids.

Making My Way Toward Foxy

2009-07-16T10:20:00.002-04:00

Since "autism" isn't covered by medical insurance, every year we set aside the maximum amount in a tax free flex spending account for medical expenses. This is the first year we've not spent it all and don't have imminent plans to do so. The account is use it or lose it. We were kicking around what we should do, and I said, kiddingly, "Maybe it's finally time for my Invisalign." I've been dreaming of Invisalign for years.

Todd cocked his head, and said, "We could do that if you want."

And that's how I found myself sitting in the orthodontist's chair yesterday, mouth open wide, getting little spokes glued to my teeth (for the retainers to snap onto). The spokes are a little freaky. A bit fang-ish when the retainers aren't in. They cut the inside of my mouth when I try to eat. You can only take out the retainers for eating. I've never had any type of orthodontia before. It's a whole new world. After my appointment, I took the kids for ice cream, but didn't get any for myself because I didn't have a toothbrush handy. You have to brush your teeth after eating and then pop it right back in. Perhaps I didn't think this through. Then again, perhaps I'll lose weight if I have to consider whether it's worth brushing my teeth every time I'm tempted to haphazardly pop food into my mouth throughout the day.

I came home and e-mailed Todd at work:

I look ridiculous and I talk funny!
I'm like Dracula with a lisp.
Will you still love me?

He e-mailed back,

I will ALWAYS love you.

Then another e-mail came through:

I will love you on a train.
I will love you on a plane.
I will love you in a car.
I will love you near or far.

He may be a plagiarist, but he so deserves the straight toothed skinny chick he'll be sleeping with this time next year.

Art Heals

2009-07-14T15:38:00.004-04:00

Abigail Thomas is a writer you could just listen to for hours and hours. I had the privilege of getting to hear her read from her work Saturday evening at Omega. She goes right to the heart of things, ruthlessly revealing her own vulnerability, mistakes, joy and regret.

One of the pieces she read was about the night her daughter was hospitalized and in great danger of losing a pregnancy. In it, she described a moment of inertia, when she asks her son-in-law over the phone, "Should I come?"

He tells her yes. Adamantly.

Because he said yes, she was able to mobilize and go, and to be the mother she had always wanted to be. The mother who was there for her child and knew what to do when she needed her.

I'm the kind of mother who wouldn't need to ask. I'd like to see you try and stop me from coming, but Abigail made space in my heart for other kinds of mothers. Those like mine, who perhaps aren't indifferent, but don't know what to do. Those who question if they are wanted in the lives of their children. Those who are still unsure even after their kids are grown and having babies of their own.

My mother was not invited to help me get ready on my wedding day. She was not there for my miscarriage. She was not at the births of my children. She did not come when Todd had his emergency appendectomy and I was alone hauling two small kids to the hospital. She meekly asked if she should come, but I felt if she had to ask, she really didn't want to.

After being let down so many times by my parents, I don't ask for anything. I'm a fucking island.

But Abby (can I call you Abby? I feel so close after such an intimate evening)cracked open a little space in my heart around all this Saturday night when she read her piece.

Sometimes moms just don't know what to do. What a concept.

Imagine.

Quotes from the workshop....

2009-07-13T09:44:00.002-04:00

"I don't know anything about grammar, and I don't give a shit. I sit down and I write."

-Malachy McCourt

"When I hear the words 'narrative arc' I reach for my revolver. I don't believe in it."

-Abigail Thomas

"Writing is art. Have you ever heard of a painter being edited?"

-Marta Szabo

"Platform. I hate that word. I don't even know what it means."

-Martha Frankel

Back From Omega

2009-07-12T22:36:00.000-04:00

The memoir festival was so good.

Upon my return,

Me: Well, it's official. I'm in love with Malachy McCourt.

HT: You're not going to leave me for him, are you?

Me: If he'll have me.

HT: Does he have money?

Me: Lots of it.

HT: Send me a check.

More tomorrow. I'm off to bed.

Nighty-night.

Off to Omega

2009-07-10T07:00:00.002-04:00

I'm off this weekend to hang with Abigal Thomas and Malachy McCourt. Before you get too jealous, here are my accommodations(no this is not the outhouse, it's my cabin, but I'm assured there is a bathroom, nearby).
Love & writing,

MO'N

Brave is being scared and getting through it anyway...

2009-07-09T09:22:00.005-04:00

This might not be a beautiful sight to you, but to me it's gorgeous! Riley has been to the dentist exactly twice. The first time it was a bloodbath. I had to physically restrain her, as she screamed her head off during her cleaning. Seth was three and he cowered in the corner, crying, terrified. I could not help him.

She had another cleaning a year ago, and did not scream, but she held fast to the armrests of the chair, and whimpered the whole way through. Imagine the sensory bombardment?

Riley has a severe overbite. Ideally she should get orthodontia, but I'm not certain she can tolerate it sensory wise. Yesterday was our first trip to the orthodontist and the photo you see above required them putting plastic lip gripping utensils in her mouth to pull it wide open. She was pretty scared, and had a couple of moments, but the doctor was so warm, and patient and understanding. Riley is getting so much better at expressing herself. Instead of screaming her head off, she cried,

"Are you going to hurt me? Are you going to hurt me?"

Because she was able to ask him this, he was able to then reassure her. Non-verbal kids on the spectrum, I love you so much and my heart goes out to you and your parents.

The Dr. and I agree that orthodontia is not possible for Riley, emotionally speaking, for another couple of years. Until then, we'll keep visiting him, building trust, seeing what happens.

My girl got her x-rays and dealt with the plastic thing-a-ma-bobs. She is so brave.

C-I-T

2009-07-08T22:14:00.001-04:00

Riley came home from camp today jazzed. She wants to be a counselor in training. She's going into fourth grade, and you can't be a C-I-T until you are in sixth grade, but she wants to be a C-I-T.

She wants to go to camp again next year, and the year after and eventually be a C-I-T.

Makes my throat well up all happy.

My girl.

American Wife

2009-07-08T12:50:00.010-04:00

So Courtney gave me my latest reading assignment, and I took the bait. American Wife is loosely based on the life of Laura Bush and the author does a pretty good job explaining how someone like "Alice" (smart, reserved, quiet) could fall for someone like W., I mean, "Charlie." How the two come together to balance the parts of each other out. A vivid back story woven throughout also explains Alice's vulnerability, and thus susceptibility to the charms of "Charlie." I absolutely loved the "falling in love" moments in this book.

BTW, A little trick I did in my imagination while reading? For Charlie, I substituted "Big" on Sex and the City instead of imagining the real "W." Worked like a charm! This is important because there are a lot of sex scenes.

American Wife takes a peek inside the world of privilege and the sheer inability of some in those ranks to think of anyone outside of that world as important.

I found the main character, Alice, less likable as time went on. I'll tell you the exact point I turned on her. When she didn't hire a cleaning staff for her big mansion. THE HELL YOU DIDN'T ALICE! The hell you didn't. I'm sick of you and your goodie two shoes ways!

I'm sorry. Give me a minute.

So if I'm still thinking about it, and arguing with the characters days after I finished reading, that's a pretty good sign right? It was a great book.

American Wife? Even though Alice insisted on doing her own cleaning, you have my blessing.

Courtney, I'm ready for my next assignment.

My Camper

2009-07-07T18:48:00.002-04:00

The "60's" are being celebrated at Riley's 1/2 day camp this week. Today she woke ready to go. She got out her tie die shirt. An anklet. A flower power bracelet. After breakfast she asked me to draw a peace sign on her cheek, which I did with eye-liner.

Driving there she seemed okay.

Walking toward the entrance, she balked.

"Everyone is going to laugh at me!" she cried.

Holding her hand, I talked/walked/dragged her toward her aide, Ms. M, who was already waiting to greet her outside.

When we got up to Ms. M. Riley did an interesting thing. She let go of my hand, and hid behind Ms. M., clinging to her for dear life, but clearly, planning to stay. There was no, "Mommy take me home!"

It was more, I'm nervous and I know who will help me through it.

Riley told us she was afraid no one else had dressed up. She'd be the only one. It would be "so embarrassing!"

We tried to encourage her.

Ms. M. said, "You start the trend Riley. You don't need to be a follower."

I reminded her how many times she has successfully gotten through situations that scare her, how brave she is. How darling she looks.

Then, Ms. M. said, "Should we go to the art room and paint a peace sign on my face too?"

Riley smiled and nodded.

Three hours later, I drove up and she bounced out of the building happy.

This is her first camp experience. There are only three more days.

"Next year I want to be a full day camper," she says.

If There Were No God, Would There Still Be God?

2009-07-06T07:14:00.005-04:00

D., the whirling dervish circled around and around and then stopped at our blanket. It was July 4th and way past their bedtime. Seth was tired and snuggled in my lap. Riley was at my side, leaning into my shoulder and we'd wrapped a big blanket around the three of us. HT had to work(though we would call him when it started so he could hear the kids' ooos and ahhhs).

Seth's buddy from kindergarten is evidently the type that becomes ramped up when he is over tired. Their family had inadvertently plopped down near us to watch the fireworks and I'd been enjoying a conversation with his mom. By 10:00PM the show had not yet begun, and D. was hanging on by a thread, getting wilder and wilder.

He ran and came back. Circled and came back. Ran again, almost slid baseball style into our blanket and asked,

"Seth. Do you believe in God?"

Seth nodded, "Yes."

D. said,"If there were no God, there wouldn't be any sky!" He raised his eyes to the night sky. Clouds were still visible and the moon was big and round. D.'s blond hair was tousled. His glasses made his eyes look bigger than their actual size. His face was a big loopy lopsided grin.

Seth said, "If there were no God, none of us would even be here."

D. spun around a couple more times, and then leaned in close to Seth's face. He pointed one finger in the air knowingly, cocked his head to the side and said, "Except, God."

Seth looked at D., but didn't say anything further.

I couldn't tell if he decided it wasn't worth getting into, or if D.'s statement made sense to him.

D. took off again, arms in the air, spinning round and round shouting, "God! God! God! God!"

And the fireworks began.

Ohio Must Not Need Nurses

2009-07-05T09:20:00.009-04:00

When I was a 13 year old girl, my friend's family brought me on their week long vacation to Wildwood? Ocean City? Atlantic City? I can't remember. It had a boardwalk. Anyway...we fried in the sun, slathered in baby oil, day after day.

Imagine our delight when a hunky lifeguard motioned us toward him from his perch atop the big white chair.

"Would you two do me a favor," he asked?

We looked over our shoulder to make sure he was truly talking to us, and then we giggled.

"Go to the next lifeguard station," he pointed to one about a quarter mile up the beach, "and ask that guard for the Sea Plus rag, then bring it back to me, okay?"

His white teeth. His solo flex abs. The fact that he was talking, to us! We giggled a little more, then went happily on his errand.

But alas, the next lifeguard didn't have the Sea Plus rag. He told us not to worry, he pointed down the beach toward the next life guard station. We would find it there, he was certain. We would return triumphantly to solo-flex boy! He would love us! God only knows how many miles we walked from white chair to white chair, before we figured it out. They were messing with us.

I'm beginning to think an Ohio nursing license is a bit like a Sea Plus rag.

I started applying for my license back in September. I've worked in several states, and I always keep my license current for the state I'm living in, even if I'm not working. I'm not saying I'm ready to rush out and find a nursing job any time soon, but I like to have the option. Ohio said they needed documentation from every state I've been licensed in. Totally understandable.

Will do.

Check.

I did my FBI background check.

I waited. I called. Can't talk to a real person. Ever.

Finally after months, the clouds parted and a voice, a real voice came on the line.

New York is holding you up. We don't have their papers.

Lousy New York. I got right on it.

Never heard anything.

Many phone calls later, I got another live body.

We need your license to be current for the last state you were employed in.

But that was Maryland. That was two states ago. I have not been *employed* as a nurse in five years(though I have had a complex and all consuming caseload of one and my knowledge base of autism far surpasses most pediatricians).

Well, you need to reactivate your Maryland license in order to get an Ohio one.

But I haven't worked there in five years and I no longer live there. Would they even give me a license? And in the meantime, my Virginia license which was current nine months ago when I started this process, has expired!

Silence.

Can I just take a refresher course or something?

Only if you already have an Ohio nursing license.

There's seriously no way to get a nursing license if yours has expired? Can I take the boards again? (I am a good student and they weren't that hard. Nursing school was difficult. The boards were not).

She didn't know. The Ohio nursing board doesn't know what to tell me.

Maryland isn't calling me back.

It's not looking good for the Sea Plus rag.

*photo from http://www.shop.advanceweb.com/

Pretty Much His Motto

2009-07-04T15:22:00.005-04:00

Our neighborhood has a July 4th parade. At 11:00 everyone gathers on one end of our street. This isn't a parade you watch. It's a parade you join. There is a fife and drum corps. All the strollers, bikes and scooters and children and even some of the dogs are decorated red white and blue. Lots of noise and lots of people, lots of flags. The procession ends around the corner at the kid's elementary school where there are snacks, and a clown who makes balloon animals for the children.

Seth rode his scooter, Riley marched, waving her flag wholeheartedly.

After they got their balloons, and after they ate ice cream sandwiches, Seth licked his fingers, then put his hand up over his eyes as he surveyed the area.

"So far so fun," he said, before taking off to run with the other kids.

Happy Independence Day!

Seth is working on a book...

2009-07-03T19:20:00.003-04:00

It's too early in the creative process to share many of the details but I do have permission to divulge the title,

101 TRILLION REASONS WHY DIGGY TICK'S LIFE IS BAD

He's been working on it every spare moment over the last two days. I've read the first chapter and it is chock-full-o-adventure.

Don't ask me why the main character's name is Diggy Tick. I have connections, but even I'm not privy to that kind of insider information.

I'll keep you posted. You heard it here first.

Cris, I Owe You One

2009-07-03T07:00:00.009-04:00

So while we were in our hometown last weekend, we got together with my friend Michelle and her husband Cris. Actually, they forced themselves on us, phoning repeatedly at Todd's parent's (after 10PM), with Cris calling us "losers" if we refused to come to a party at Michelle's sister's house a few streets over. Stepping out after 10PM? Unheard of in these here parts. There's youngens to tend to in the mornin!

But, we hadn't seen them in forever and knowing these yahoos, if we didn't join them, they'd likely call again, and possibly wake up the kids and definitely irritate the in-laws so, we took off our jammies and threw the clothes we'd been in all day back on and headed over to the party(in honor of Michelle's niece's graduation). I've known Michelle since we were in second grade and it was fun seeing so many of her family members gathered in one place. Then, it happened.

Michelle's husband Cris, always the life of the party, talked about how he'd done some IT work for a salon type place, who didn't want to pay him. They instead tried to barter with the offer of a free colonic.

I'm troubled.

It's no secret I'm poop-a-phobic, but this is too much.

I can't stop thinking about it. Who is the colonic technician? How much does one get paid for this occupation? How do you look at someone with a straight face and offer them a colonic in lieu of cash? How do you walk in and place your order?

"Yeah, I'll have one of them there colonics."

The colonic operator says, "Oh goodie! I can't wait to insert the tube and start the flow!"

I don't mean to offend any colonic loving readers. Poop-a-phobia is my issue, not yours. If I don't want a colonic, I don't have to get one, and trust, I never will. But now I'm stuck with the image burned in my brain. And the questions!

Make it stop!

Thanks a lot Cris! It was great seeing them but perhaps we should have stayed in our jammies and gently taken the phone off the hook after they called the first time.

*I have no proof Cris actually ever received the colonic but for me, the damage is done.