More Than Soup.

Not long ago, I ordered myself a little bowl of soup.

Small-ish.  But huge in my head.  I had been thinking about that little bowl of soup for years.  The more I thought about it, the bigger my little bowl of soup grew.  You've seen my little bowl of soup.  Maybe you haven't given it much thought?  But if you're even a little familiar with childrens' books, you've probably seen it before.

See it sitting back there.  Simple, right?  Not the biggest part of the story.  Certainly not when we were kids reading this book.  When I was a kid, I don't know that I even really loved Where The Wild Things Are.  The Wild Things themselves were neat to me.  I wasn't impressed with the kid's behavior.  I wasn't fooled into thinking he actually traveled somewhere.  I was a no-nonsense kid and wasn't buying that he was anywhere but in his bedroom imagining.  What I did think was cool was that the kid got to eat his dinner in his bedroom.  The little things, right?

As a 30-something mom with a kid with Autism, I see this book in a WHOLE different way now.  Actually, my Max was named after the kid in the book.  I liked the idea of Max being a kid full of imagination.  It's always been my dream for my kids to have big personalities with even bigger imaginations.  No other kid has ever been better named.  He has morphed into the King of the Wild Things himself.

Max was diagnosed at the age of four.  It was a long, slow, and grueling process.  The actual diagnosing took a few weeks.  It was all the professionals I asked from the time he was 2 years old that turned my hair gray and kept Max from receiving services earlier.  I heard things like, "He makes too much eye contact." or "He's too loving." I even heard, "He's way too cute!"  The cute statement came from his special needs pre-k teacher.  No one would listen.  No one would discuss his aggression, lack of speech, his picky eating, the je ne sais quoi I could feel in my gut.  It wasn't until I got to the right pediatrician who actually listened that I was on the right track.  The aggression though.  I have never gotten help with the aggression.  The aggressive aspect of his Autism is definitely the hardest on me, our family, and most of all Max.

One day, I read the same Where the Wild Things Are for the one millionth time.  Suddenly this childrens' book smacked me square in the face.  What the hell is Max-the-character's problem?  What if he doesn't just have bad behavior?  What if it is something so much more?  Something out of control?  Something like... Autism?  It added a whole new spin to the whole thing.  Where is the mom anyway?  Tired.  She is tired.  Too tired to once again pick up the fight and deep pressure hug Max-the-character until he succumbs to the lovin'.  She instead takes the easy route that she'll probably regret later - putting him in his room to work it out himself.  I could suddenly see through the eyeballs of that mama just trying to keep it together.  And I could see that Max-the-character was creating a world for himself when the real world became all too much.  That, to me, is one of the most painful parts of Autism.

But as we know, Max-the-character does come "back home".  And eventually, so does my Max when the world becomes too much.  In Where the Wild Things are, the mother helps Max-the-character in the only way she knows how at the time:  she is sure to give him a nice full bowl of soup, and, most importantly, she is sure it is hot.  She could have set it out at any point with a to-hell-with-it attitude.  But no, she was warm herself and kind.  And forgiving.  It was only a few weeks ago that I realized there is also a big piece of cake beside the soup.  The whole meal says, "not only do I forgive you, but I love you, and I understand you.  And I will always be here for you when you get back from your own world."

And so, now I can't read Where the Wild Things Are to my kids without a lot of deep breathing and eye blinking.  It just resonates so loudly with me.  My Max has come so far.  That bowl of soup represents to me a quiet patience that I strive to attain every single day.  Some days I succeed.  Some days I do not.  At all.  But regardless, I will always be there when he comes back home.

So... that bowl of soup.

 I carry it with me everywhere I go now.  I look at it often as I contemplate that quiet patience.  It has definitely been a journey.  This motherhood gig is by far hardest thing I have ever done.  But isn't it the hardest things, the things you bleed and sweat and cry over that often bring the most joy?

What Science?

It's strange, but even though lesson plans are something I do for the family, they make me feel incredibly guilty.  I can't explain why.  I suppose it's the whole sitting thing.  I am not running around flitting and flatting to and from mess to mess.  Maybe some of the guilt comes from the fact that I actually, somewhere deep inside, don't mind lesson plans.  And yet, I hate the jobs that are so important, but at the end of the day, there's no actual physical evidence that I worked my butt off.  The house is still a mess, the laundry is still staring at me through its hampers.

And every time I sit down to work on lesson plans, children crowd around.

"What are you doing?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

"Can you give me a bath?"

"Can I watch Netflix?"

Sometimes it can be lovely.  Like when a child can just sit with me and do a puzzle or look at a book.

On this particular day, a few weeks ago, I was working on The Littles' science plans.  Science has always been a struggle in this house.  I can't get on board with most of the popular homeschool science curriculums because I'm a fan of evolution.  I'm all about doing some religious studies, but including Adam and Eve in science studies has always baffled me.  So anyway, I've found a pretty simple science text I am going to Pinterest the hell out of and make my own plans.  This is hella hard since there's the writing of it, and the gathering of materials, and the actual execution of the whole thing, and then the actual maintaining.  We will see.  I sure do love ordering crap online and having it come to me all wrapped up in a neat box.

So, I gather my materials and put on my glasses.  Glasses = I mean business.  I open my planner and begin typing away.  We will start with the five senses.  Max sits down beside me with a frog book.

"Why'd we get the tadpoles, mom?"

Sigh.  "So you could watch them, Max."  On I go, typing away all about the five senses.

"Where'd you get them, mom?"

"From the neighbor's pool, Max."  I can sense now we are in a question-answer session, which is 75% of my time with Max.  I take a lot of deep breaths.  On I go.  Five senses.  Five senses.

"When do the tadpoles get their legs, mom?"

"I think about six weeks, Max."  Why can't I ever get time to myself?!

"How do they turn into frogs, mom?"

"I think there's a diagram in the book, Max." If I could just find some activities to go with the five senses...

"Where does their tail go, mom?"

"It disappears, Max." How the hell am I going to get this done?!

"Can you help me draw a tadpole, mom?"

FIVE SENSES.  FIVE SENS...  Oh... Suddenly I realized what had been going on right in front of me without my realizing it.  Science was happening right there with no pomp and circumstance.  And that's the best learning.  We read the book, observed, and drew some tadpoles.  I quietly shut the lap top.  I can't say that every day is like this.  But when it happens, it's sweet.

Bring On the Summer Slow Down.

It's been one of those weeks.  I'm worn.  Here's how it began:

That's my chimney.  In all its glory.  Embarrassing?  Sure.  Mucho.  But, hey, it's all done now.  Originally, some dude The Hubs knows wanted to charge us $1200.  Fourteen hundred dollars later, we did it ourselves.  Now, The Hubs would be quick to point out that in our total, we have a new porch door, two drills and a saw.  It was tiring and awful and with our hilly landscape, it took three days instead of one.  We're off the do-it-yourself kick for a long while.  Shout out to the brother-in-law and fam who came out to help.

A lot of this happened.  Because, I mean, how else are you gonna deal with a house full of people and an effed up chimney??

(And you can love on your fancy beers all ya want, at the end of the day, I'm a simple gal.)  It also helped me get through moments like these with each. and. every. kid.:

Almost all the kids had no problem going waaay above the house and I have a pretty tall house.  Did I take a ride?  No.  No I did not.

Max graduated from Kindergarten... again.  But for real this time, yo.

So it begins.  The "Am I doing everything I can????" questions.  To myself.  All summer.  The OT at school let her license lapse.  No OT.  Speech is a joke.  He's a little fish in really big waters.  Floundering around in the mainstream, yet not "bad enough" to be in the Autism class.  Teachers can not work with that they do not see.  There has never been help with his aggression and behavior at home.  So do we homeschool or go back to public school.  I have all summer to make that decision.  Yet, it doesn't matter how much time I have, I see both sides and they both have awesome points and they can both suck.  (I am eloquent, eh?)  Research I shall.  I'll make the decision and with enough luck I will look back and wonder why it was so hard to make the decision I made, hopefully.

This guy is cutting teeth:

And this is what we have planned this summer:

So that was the past week.  It felt huge, and yet I have been stuck in this house for all of it.  I'm ready to cool off for a while.  The summer slow down is most welcome all up in this hizzy.  And hopefully, just hopefully... I can blog more.  Maybe.

Somewhere.

He fell asleep here.  On his window sill.

Watching the "older boys" play.  They aren't all older.

Shirt backwards and inside out.

He was playing with his pirate ship, perhaps dreaming of being somewhere else.  Somewhere where every one understands.

He never complains.  Never says anything about the running and screaming and giggles from the "older boys" playing in the cul-de-sac.

The cul-de-sac is a dangerous place for Max.  Mom isn't out there.  Mom is home.  And the world can be a scary place.

He plays with his toys.  And he watches the boys.  His day will come.

He's going to show them.

He is amazing.

Continue We Shall.

I will begin blogging here and we will ignore that fact that I have not blogged in a year.

Continue we shall.

Had a girl day today.

We went to the library and Michaels and then a little-person-party.  Do you know what happens to a little girl when you take her out into the big world without the six ridiculously loud boys she is around nearly 24 hours a day?  She gets all whispery and weird and... shy.  "Mom, I think I will be shy today," she said.  We had a great time.  I was not dressed in yoga pants.  Actually sported some mascara and looked like a regular person.  I always feel like a big liar out in public when I have only one kid with me.  As if people would never believe the chaos in which I live.  I am awkward.  I am okay with that.

While on the subject of the girl, I have found this all over the dang house for the last few days:

It is as if a band of short phonics lovin' thugs have come through my home and tagged every writing surface they could find.  Lola began Saxon Phonics just a week ago and around lesson 10 discovered "L-O-G spells log" and can hardly contain herself.  She is eating learnin' stuff faster than I can feed it to her.  It's good.  Awesome.  And tiring.  This word has been on any and every medium she could get her hands on.  It's exciting.  I had really questioned where to start her in the world of school.  I mean, if a kid begs you everyday for school books so she can do school too, you do it, right?  This kid has been eating up Before Five In A Row and Saxon and was upset that today is Saturday.  (Teach needs a break.  Calm it down, Lady.)

Little People School has gone so well that Biggers got in on most of the action.  Lord forbid anything just a hair more interesting than math happen in this house.  Can you say... distracted??

Also, behold this child:

Adorable, right?

Here's a cute one:

I don't know if I'm allowed to call him "cute" however.  He is fourteen and lawdy, thou shalt not embarrass him.

Here's a few:

Also, this one:

That is a small child using my white board markers on every page of his coloring book.  I politely said, "please do not use my white board markers on your coloring book."  And yet, here we are.  There comes a time in your Autism parent life when you think, "White board marker:  $1.00.  Peace in house:  invaluable."

Have you had enough?  I will close now and watch my kid use every ounce of life my marker has left... but the house is quiet.

Five For Friday

'scu me if I offend, but... Dr. Who...?

I don't get it.

I don't need it.

My family is totally into it.  Like, right now in fact.

Moving on.

Wanna Five For Friday??  Here we go!

1.  My newly purchased homeschool books are usually in danger once a day when a small child asks me something totally off the wall and I damn near spit my coffee all over them.  It does happen often and I realize this is just the nature of having kids.  Today's handwriting lessons took me to a crazy place when out of nowhere Cooper announces, "You know, I know there is no Santa Claus."  Random.  I'm sick of dealing with the big fat man in the red suit who gets all the credit for Christmas when The Hubs and I are the ones scrounging to find just a bit of fluff in our budget to get even the smallest things.  (We hardly dealt with the guy last Christmas and followed a whole new plan... mayhaps I will tell you about it someday.)  Anyhoo... I looked the wee man in the eye and simply said, "Whatever you think you think, keep it to yourself and don't ruin the magic for everyone because that's what it all really is... magic."  He seemed to accept it.  He then proceeded to ask me the meaning of life... which is where I almost spit out my coffee.  I gave him some catechism answers, some Mother Theresa-ish answers and told him it really is up to him what the meaning of his life is...  then I wiped my brow and drank more coffee.  Kids, man.

2.  I have been trying to get Finn to sleep in his stinking big boy bed.  And I ask the child, "Don't you want to sleep in a big boy bed?" and the turd is smart enough to say, "No.  I a baby."  Smart as a whip, I tell ya.

Yesterday, in fact after chasing him every five minutes back into his little bed, he just nonchalantly came wandering back in to the kitchen... wearing a pink tutu... and wielding a small pink teapot.  "You want some, Mama?"  What do you do with that??  The clock told me to shrug my shoulders and say, "I suppose" and add some fake "nom nom nom"s.

3.  Went and met with Max's teacher today.  I said in much nicer words, "How the hell do I get this kid to settle the hell down and stop with all the violent aggressive shit!??"  I will probably dive much deeper into it later, as you people have made it loud and clear that YOU ARE ON THE AUTISM BANDWAGON.  If I have learned anything in the last seven months it is that once you are on this train, it is hard to find GOOD SOLID information that pertains to YOUR child.  I will start sharing our journey a lot more because it is relevant and you guys have told me you want to hear it.  Maybe something will slip right out of my babbling face and touch you in some way.  ... good touch, not bad touch...

4.  I was sick this week.  I FREAKING HATE BEING SICK.  What a damn hassle.  The snots, no less.  Makes me feel like I am somehow drowning inside my own body.  I can get some wicked claustrophobia, but that has to be the weirdest.

5.   I take some HUMONGOUS comfort in the fact that summer is now unofficially over.  Thank you Labor Day for reminding me that long sleeve t-shirts and pumpkin flavored everything will soon be on their way.  No more stressing over making sure we get out and do EVERY SINGLE DANG THING you are expected to do over summer... picnics, fireworks, outdoor movies.  It was nice, but I am done.  Bring on the chill.

                               

ciao, ya'll.   Dr. Who will be over in a sec, then once again, chaos shall ensue.

Where the Hell...?

Let's just cut to the chase.  Here's some biggies that happened in the last year:

1.  The Hubs has a job.  Thank God, right??  It's been over a year since I last posted.  He did end up impressing the competition and went full time.  Every time I hear his truck fire up I seriously say a little thank you prayer because I just love his company so much.

2.  Max has Autism.  Yes uh-huh.  That's what it is.  That thing I've wondered about for years, but people have always brushed it off and shut me down about it.  Diagnosed.  Yep, Autism.

3.  Guess who's going to have another baby.  Ha.  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.  Jesus.

4.  Third grade is the first time you have to cumulatively test your homeschool kid here in Georgia.  Then every third year after that.  Coop tested at the highschool level in a lot of the subjects he was tested in.  I had to get that brag in.  Now I shall leave it alone.  But after I say, HEY THIS HOMESCHOOL THING MAY BE WORKING.

So there it is.  Let us start fresh, shall we.  None of those back-em-up-and-explain-what-we're-up-to ridiculously long posts.  That's it in a nutshell:  Autism, pregnancy, homeschool.  That pretty much sums it up.

See you soon.

No, for reals though.

An SPD Gluten-Free Update.

I'M DONE.

THE END.


...

We gave it one solid month.  ...And we were stringent, dammit!  For thirty days Max was absolutely completely gluten free.  (Well... except for that one time Daddy made dinner, simple PB&Js.  We both turned around at the stove bewildered as to why it all went off without a hitch, why everyone was so damn quiet and well-behaved.  And there they were... ALL of them... stuffing their faces with bread.  OOoops.  It's hard to remember sometimes... but for serious, it was only that once.)  On a gluten-free diet, Max tries to murder Lola, break windows, jump off furniture with wild abandon, scratch, hit and bounce his butt on nearly anything.  ...Which is not really a big difference from any other time, sadly.  Sometimes it seemed better and sometimes it just didn't.  That's the pattern with Sensory Processing Disorder too.  Sometimes it's okay for a spell and then sometimes... it just fucking sucks.   I decided to take him off the gluten-free diet then and see if things got worse.  Nope.  The same.  On a gluten-ous diet, Max still tries to murder Lola, break windows, jump off furniture with wild abandon, scratch, hit and bounce his butt on nearly anything.  Without much difference in behavior, but huge differences in grocery budget and menu-planning, I decided gluten-free just wasn't for us.  To note, his speech is getting better and continues to get better even when eating le evil white flour! 

I knew it may not be the miracle I was hoping for.  It was an "easy" thing to try though to see if it could potentially make life easier in other areas.  I can see where it helped our family get healthier in other ways.  Usually we had a bread-y substance at every meal before going gluten-free... post GF we still don't eat many biscuits, breads or rolls with our meals.  It's still pick a meat, pick a vegetable, pick a fruit and go with it.  Easy peasy.   

I, fortunately/unfortunately noticed my face getting clearer from major rosacea breakouts I guess because there simply wasn't as much gluten-ous items to pick from in the house.  I continue to stay away from gluten... unless there's cake.  If cake is a choice, always choose cake. 

So there it is for Maximus Prime.  Would it work for you?  Who knows.  The point is, you just really don't know until you try... and compared to a lot of things, it is easy-ish to try.  Give it a quick Google and you'll find out that some people SWEAR by a G-Free diet.  I just want to remind you that, hey, everybody's different.

Five For Friday.

It's been an eventful week around the Awesome Abode.  Let's say an interesting two weeks...  Things are looking up!  Was that the sound of actual positivity in my voice??  yup.  I still live much of my life in hyper vigilant anxiety, but I can definitely maybe see a light at the end of our unemployment tunnel. 

Here's my summary of the goings-on lately...  I am tired though.  All six kiddos are under one roof and for some reason the three in diapers have just wanted to poop all damn day.  This entry may make no sense.

1.  The Hubs is working!  Well... part-time.  But part-time is better than no-time!  It's been nearly 5 months since he has had regular earn-a-check work.  I've damn near forgotten how it works.  While trying to figure out how to make this weeks meager check stretch, suddenly it occurred to me, "Wait! He gets another next week!"  Wowzer.  It has just been so long.  It's still a struggle, no doubt, but the company that hired him sought him out and created the position because they liked what he had to offer.  He has been busting his ass to impress the pants off of them and he's hoping that it will lead to a full-time position.  Keep your fingers crossed.  Pray.  Sacrifice a chicken.  Do whatever you have to do.  ...I would like to add that it does not hurt that he now works for the competition of his last employer.  That helps to soothe a bruised ego.

2.  Max is done with school.  I am happy dancing right now... see me?? 

While he does still need to go back next year for speech twice a week, it is an enormous relief to know that everyone will be under one roof for school next year.  We will be on our schedule.  That getting up for the bus junk is for the birds.  I also didn't like thinking, "Oh! No! It's getting late!  Better get Max to sleep so he can get to school tomorrow!" We like to mosey on sometime around a decent bedtime and rouse slowly at a good time in the morning.  Less stress that way.  I tell ya what is stressful though...  considering homeschool curricula and ideas for this little guy.  He's a unique one and his learning style is going to be as unique, I bet. 

3.  Maximus also had a birthday this week.  Apparently it's Max Week.

He's four now.  This seems so old and yet he is so young too.  Someone did me a great dis-service last year at Vacation Bible School.  They looked down at Max who was holding my hand and waiting for his brothers to be dismissed and told him, "Just think, Max! Next year you will get to go to Vacation Bible School!" Max could only babble at the time.  I looked at him and was simply astonished.  I knew at that point that there was no way he could be fully involved in a simple pre-k VBS.  The person who made the comment knew nothing of what we had been going through regarding SPD, speech, the school system or all the questions we had about potential autism.  The question has stuck with me and even as we are about to sign everyone up again I wonder... how will he do with a regular class of children?  He still wears diapers and his speech is not quite discern-able to people outside of our family.  No one will know of the huge strides he's taken just to get where he is and how amazing we think he is.  It's just a simple VBS class, but between you, me and the internet, it makes me a little nervous.  We shall see.

4.  And on that note...  Project Gluten is still a-go.  Now that he's home full time we'll really see where we can get.  It was rough at first, I'm not going to lie.  I do have a habit of making things a little more complicated than necessary though...   Here's where we are:  to plan dinner we buy a meat.  We throw a fruit with it.  We eat a veggie with it.  We eat a salad with it.  There's no gluten in that stuff.  I have figured out that perhaps Kroger is the best place for going gluten-free... if you need anything snazzy like gluten-free cookies, breads, crackers or pasta.  They are whole dollars cheaper than Publix.  Aldi is the very best for price and labeling.  I have really only had to tweak our grocery list a bit.  I'll save our results for a later post, but I will say... It's going pretty well.

5.  Something's bugged me all day.  I wanna share it because if I don't put it somewhere, it will bug me.  And it's my blog... so there.  I don't like talking politics or religion or any of that crap, but here we go.

I went to bed a Christian last night and this morning I was passive-aggressively told I was no longer a Christian.  I shared a post from George Takei last night expressing his joy that the Boy Scouts had voted to allow gay scouts into the organization.  I simply said, "The Boy Scouts are finally getting with the times. Now what about leaders[?]" This morning I woke up to a horrible post from a friend declaring that you cannot have those types of ideas and call yourself a Christian.  Twas complete with verses and damnation.  I have all day pondered then if, after such judgement, I would even want to be lumped into a group of people that would say such a thing.  In our home we teach our children to love everyone.  That love is love.  That God created and loves all of us... regardless of color, religion or sex.  I believe not letting a gay scout sit around a campfire and tie some knots or receive his Eagle after such hard work is as asinine as using separate water fountains or segregating schools.  The only hang up I had about my kid joining Scouts was the fact they were against gay scouts and leaders.  I hope they continue to make these strides so that one day gay leaders can be included.  My children know no difference between the love they see between their Daddy and I and say, Ellen and Portia. Call me Christian... don't call me Christian... call me crazy... I don't give a shit.  I know mine and mine knows me.  

Jumping down from my soapbox.   

I feel better now.  I realize this is just as passive-aggressive perhaps.  I realize The Facebook shouldn't get to me so much...  but sometimes that's the only socialization I receive during a busy day...  why's somebody gotta muck it up with that crap?  Sigh. 

So on we go...  Everyday a little bit better.  Things are progressing.  Everyday I feel a little more normal, although I am still eternally grateful for the lessons we've learned along the way.  New normal. 

Have an awesome weekend folks.  Remember the reason we are free to barbeque and relax on Monday.

Gluten Free = Exploding Brain.

Going gluten free is stupid.  So there.  Frowny face.  At least, here, at the beginning, I definitely think so.  I thought I would tell you friends about it.  It is obviously important to you.  It makes me happy and sad that my post Sandy Poop is on fire right now.  Sadly, I think Italy must have some big bowel problems as they are checking in a lot more often than the rest of you.  Watch out for tangents...

Anyhoo...  I have always wondered a little what "going gluten free" would do for Max and his Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) and his autistic tendencies.  This has always just lived in the back of my mind, especially since he has somehow conned his teacher into believing he is an angel.  I think he is pretty damn great, obviously, but I was hoping he would have the same behavior at school as he does at home.  Twas a no-go.  He is perfect between the hours of 7am and 11am. 

I myself was very much looking for a change of life.  Sitting around with an unemployed husband as "just a housewife" while wondering if the lights would get to stay on while looking at yourself in the mirror and HATING what you see is, well... sad.  Very sad.  I am freaking sick of it.  It also occurred to me a little late in the game that if, damnit, I wanted to go take a walk or work out, there was another person in the house to watch the kids... so what was holding me back???  Anyway, enter my googling tendencies and a slight obsession with Pinterest and you get a bunch of research on the Paleo Diet.  I've always been a bit against any diet that seriously restricts any one food group, but I was pretty interested in the way people said they felt on the diet.  I will say though, that, damnit, I LIKE COW'S MILK.  I 100 percent agree that it is for baby cows, but why do I find it so tasty???  And no cheese?  Well, that's just crazy talk.  Suddenly I realized, there's not much gluten on the Paleo diet.  Actually I wouldn't say suddenly, but eventually it sunk in.  I wanted those results for Max.  What if his slow-to-grow speech or his sensory issues could be resolved by changing his diet?  Don't I owe him at least a try?? 

Kids who have gluten sensitivities often crave items with gluten in them.  Now, I've read the science... can't say that I could repeat it... but I can tell you that it makes sense to me that kids would crave it and get caught in a vicious circle.  I also know I could offer Max 20 chocolate bars or one small bowl of pasta and he would choose the pasta hands-down.  Max is one big pasta noodle. 

It hurts my brain already to go shopping though.  Mama wants to lose weight.  Daddy wants meat.  Cooper wants pizza and hamburgers.  Z, well... doesn't eat anything.  Our food budget is tiny.  I don't like the idea of processed foods.  Or dyes.  Or artificial sugar and additives. I am trying to feed a lot of people on a little money with some ridiculous ideals.  Now I want to go gluten free.  Yep, sounds stupid.  It feels stupid.  ...Unless it gets results.

I figured we would start the process slowly.  That will give me time to stock up and figure out what the hell I am doing.  Max also eats breakfast at school and I know the little Carbo is eating cereal or something with gluten everyday.  Plus, I know this sounds woosy, but I just don't want to discuss a gluten free diet with his teacher.  With only two and a half weeks left of school, I just don't want to have to get into it.

I'll tell you one thing I learned today...  pasta and anything with flour may just not be in Max's diet anymore.  GOOD GOD, the prices.  I thought we would just get him a few gluten free specialty items from the store.  ...stuff to help him ease in, ya know?  Your typical Mueller's pasta was on sale BOGO:  $1.57.  The crap I had to shop from ranged from $1.79 PER BOX FOR 8 OUNCES to $3.39 PER BOX.  Say whaaaaaaaa?  Crazy talk.  Same thing in the cookie aisle.  Same in the crackers.  I knew gluten-free items were often more, but whole DOLLARS worth?  wowza. We may just have to wean the boy to fruits, veggies and meat only because my brain may explode.  But alas, my mantra will be, "Just 30 Days".  If I can just try 30 days solid and see if there is a difference, won't it be worth it?  Damn this junk is hard. 

So there ya go, my fellow friends that like to talk poop and other happenings of the gut.  That's where I am.  We'll see how this goes.

If you ever want some of my "research" check out my Pinterest boards... I'll leave it there for you, my Googling comrades.

Don't Be Person A

As I see it, there are two types of people in the world.

The type that says, "You aren't going to have any more, ARE you?"

...and the type that says, "Are you going to have any more?"

I am talking about kids here.  Am I going to have any more kids.  Maybe you think this is pretty close-minded of me, but I can tell many, many different things about a person in the way they ask me that question.  And I ultimately know, in 1.5 seconds if I like that person or not.  Bridges can also be burned by asking me this question and cocking your head just so... even if I've known you for years.

Let's call them Person A and Person B.

I would like to publicly announce that I freaking live for being asked, "You aren't going to have any more, ARE you?" by Person A.  I should also add, Person A, that I am just fucking with you.  When you ask me your question, I will cock my head just as you do and politely reply in a soft voice, "That's up to God."  Is this my true answer?  No.  Well, yes and no.  I plan on Finn being our last, but I do believe that God gets the final say.  If He decides it's so, well... it is.  Isn't it?  By the look on your face though I can tell that if I found myself in that position abortion is clearly the only answer.  You believe I truly have too much on my plate.  For sure your tax dollars are being used and therefore wasted on my family.  What??  No, no!  You would never...  you just meant... that's not what you were saying!!  When I say "That's up to God," you will catch your breath and say, "How old is your oldest?"  I will say, "7" and you will do quick math in your head.  After I lay out all their ages for you, you will follow with, "well thank goodness you have 2 of them in school! right??"  I will look you right in your little eyeballs and say, "actually, we homeschool."  I will sit back and wait for that to sink in and you have many different responses...  "my, you DO have a lot on your plate!", "WHAT?", "how do you DO it?"  You think all these responses are okay because somehow you are complimenting me.  I hear instead, "Wow.  You are quite the weirdo.  Ima back away slowly because I just don't know what else to say."  I DO walk away because I know you don't see anymore in me than a homeschooling mom of a lot of kids.  Frankly, that conversation got as far as it did because I just like to see you stumble on your words.

Person B.  You are cool with me.  Maybe you've seen me at church where all my little ducklings know how to silently peacefully moderately quietly sit through mass.  Maybe you know us from Scouts or the library, some of the places where the minions receive this "SOCIALIZATION" that everyone freaks out about.  Maybe you've noticed that we all look pretty happy and, hey... who wouldn't want to be a part of that party??  I like you, Person B.  You seem fun and unassuming.  You ask in such a non-chalant, cheery way that I can simply reply...

"NO.  Oh my gosh... no.  Boy these guys are so much work.  It's a happy chaos, but I am TIRED."



...don't be Person A.

Grabbing It Right Back.

Hello, my people.  It is I!  Back from the dead.  Sort of.  Still feeling dead, but back, nonetheless. 

Here's what I'm not going to do.  I'm not going to apologize for having not blogged in the past forever.  Though more than a few people have asked me where I've gone *straightens collar, brushes it off*.  There has been absolutely nothing to blog about and then just FUCKING EVERYTHING.  I have been through a range of stupid emotions that just would not make good writing...  One of those emotions being the one where I think, "I should really write this stuff down... that way when I am so thankful for how far we've come, I can look back and say..." Oh, I don't know.  What the hell.

I'll update you on some things so that we can just get back to our regular blogging station.  I do miss it.  I don't want to waste time rehashing what's been going down for say, the last six months.  So...

The Hubs is unemployed.

There.  I said it.  You reading that sentence did not take very much effort.  That sentence takes every effort I have in my body.  I live that sentence.  I live it going to bed at night.  I live it when I wake up.  In the morning I have approximately 5 seconds to myself where the birdies begin dressing me and my hair is luxurious... rosacea doesn't exist and I am rich.  Then reality sinks in and I literally, in my brain, say, "Shit." as I stumble out of bed.

It has been quite the struggle.  This is the stuff that proves what you're made of, that's for sure.  But it's definitely not all bad.  It is hard to believe that it won't always be like this... I know it won't.  But I will never take, say, a gallon of milk or a closet stocked with toilet paper for granted again.  Can that be a bad thing? 

Figuring out general survival with 5 kids without a regular income is not easy, but it is interesting the things that have gone on around us.  The Hubs and I mentioned at the beginning of our little non-employment journey that people around us are going through things all the time.  ...The old saying that if you stood in a circle with the people you know and all threw your troubles in the middle, chances are, you'd grab your own right back again.  I did not believe this at first.  At all.  Period.  But during these last few months one of our friends lost his home, another their six-week old baby.  Illnesses have come and gone.  Divorces.  A dear old friend of mine lost his mother.  Somehow you keep going.  You endure. 

So there it is.  There have been other things that just don't stand out like the unemployment does...  Z nearly had his finger smashed off his body.  I may tell ya that one, it's a goody.  Max has gone to school... fortunately/unfortunately, his teachers love him... as he does NOT misbehave at school.  At all.  I got my luscious locks cut off... damn near needed to make 3 pony tails out of it just to chop it off, but we got by with 2.  I finally made my homeschool classroom.  At one point I thought I was moving to St. Louis so I sold all my bedroom furniture.  It's now just a permanent camping/slumber party up-in-thar.  My grandma died... guess that's not such a happy point.  Sigh.  My siblings have all decided to get married all at once... though not to each other... that was worded funny.

... I'll end on that note.

You will hear from me soon.  I need ya.  You are my sounding board. 

Look What I Made!

Now, I don't like to read about other people's baby stories.  People seem to love to blog about that.  However, Ima tell you mine because it was short (nay, RAPID) and to the point and that was part of the problem.  Although, on this side of things it doesn't necessarily seem like a problem, however the brain does have a way of erasing ones memory... that's why some people have more than one kid, I suppose.

All of my little people have been one week late, except for Coop.  Being my first, it was a blessing that my water just broke three weeks early with him and I didn't have to wonder exactly when to go to the hospital. 

I decided to lay down and take a cat nap 5 days before my due date and coincidentally, on my younger sister's birthday, when I felt a... pang.  Ten minutes later... same thing.  Nine or so minutes later... same thing.  That's when I got on the phone and told the Hubs, "Hey.  Be on time today."  This was somewhere in the neighborhood of 1:00pm.  Hubs gets off around 1:30.  I figured I had plenty of time IF this was "it", but hey, why be the only one miserable??  I had probably only enough time to dial the phone and have a little convo when, hey...  we're at the eight minute mark.  I called right back and told the Hubs, "naw.  let's just come home."  (You have to be on top of things like this with the Hubs...  he can talk to ANYONE.  I mean ANYONE. And if I didn't stay on top of it, five hours could go by and he may still be chatting someone up or mosey-ing on home.  Yes, even when I'm in labor.)

I decided to hop in the shower all "I'm experienced and have plenty of time" like.  Ima shave my legs!  Wash my hair!  Chill for a while!  It was when I began leaning all over the shower wall that I thought, "hmmm... lets cut this one short."  I drug myself out and checked my contractions app...  seven minutes apart?  oh.  fun.

2:30 rolls around and the Hubs strolls in.  There's no Dick Van Dyke-fall-over-the-ottoman for him or forget mama and pedal-to-the-metal to the hospital like you see on TV.  No, I had to poke and prod him on along and convince the house, "no.  for serious.  I need to GO".  I am just very glad I decided to leave when the contractions were five minutes apart the very first time and not wait an hour like suggested. 

The car ride was just ridiculous.  As I watched my little contraction app, I got a little more nervous with every mile.  They were coming closer and closer together.  At one point, through a voice much like Reagan's in The Exorcist... I requested a Pearl Jam CD in the stereo.  I just thought, "concentrate on every word like the contractions don't exist."  It seemed to work... for a while... then I had to get out of the car... that is just a ridiculous feat for someone in labor.  Partly because I am hella stubborn and partly because I needed someone to lean on, the Hubs and I parked (instead of dropping me off) and made the long trek to labor and delivery.  This was 3:30pm.  I said to the Hubs, (Reagan voice):  "I won't be getting an epidural today."  He says, of course, "Aw, sure you will, honey."

I must have looked pretty damn amazing because I was offered a wheel chair upon entering the hospital.  No paperwork, no nothing... get that woman out of here!  Upstairs, the triage nurse decides some of my blood needs to be taken to the lab... seems my blood pressure goes up with each contraction (pray tell, why would it not?!  Its a nerve wracking experience.) 

I will seal the deal here and you will know my obsession with Eddie Vedder.  Once in my room, I decided screaming (or rather, guttural weird noises) were wasting my time and energy.  I went inside myself and imagined Mr. Vedder throwing me my own personal concert.  I also used the mantra, "let your uterus do the work."... whatever works right?  I just figured I wouldn't want to be embarrassed in front of Eddie, so I must maintain composure!  Later the Hubs told me it was somewhere around here I worried him because I went absolutely silent.  Closer to "Time" I moved my inner self to a beach complete with margaritas and Bud Light, focused on the deserted island off in the distance... figuring I couldn't maintain enough composure in front of my imaginary Eddie Vedder. 

Somewhere within my imaginary beach-happy-hour... look who shows up... well... it's the anesthesiologist.  Labs FINALLY came back and everything was fine.  (duh.)  It felt like forever, but I guess in reality (not on my Eddie Vedder Beach) it was really not that long.  I sat up to receive the great miracle that is an epidural and BAM.  My water broke.  Confused as to how the hell I would have someone plunge something into my spine without writhing in pain because of contractions, I was doubly confused as to how it would help in time anyway.  I considered asking the nurse, "Will it hurt even more? (during delivery)" if I didn't have the epidural, but only imagined her saying, "Fuck yeah, its gonna hurt." and maintained my silence.  I only shook my head when she asked me if I still wanted the epidural. 

It was a pretty amazing little circle, filled with women (and the Hubs...) like some sort of Red Tent or something.  They let me sit up and call the shots pretty much.  (Why the hell would anyone assume it's best to lay down while trying to push a bowling ball out of your hootenanny, I'll never know.)  The room was full of cheering and I felt like I could actually participate fully (but, fuck yeah... it hurt.)  I will say that the worst part is the last few minutes.  Even I wasn't sure what I had experienced until later when my midwife asked me, "How'd ya like that 'ring of fire'?"  Oh.  Dear.  God.  But ya know what?  The instant... and I mean the INSTANT it was all over, I felt like a million bucks.  Like, pack-my-bags-why-can't-we-all-just-go-home million bucks.  It was amazing.  And the little guy was bright eyed and bushy tailed like I have seen no other because he hadn't been medicated either.  Absolutely amazing.

I would HIGHLY recommend this whole natural thing to anyone.  Only... I wouldn't study it up too much before hand.  Something like this could scare the hell out of a person if it isn't just forced upon them...  worked for me anyway... 

So there it is.  Felt a pang around 1pm.  Left for the hospital around 3pm.  Had a baby boy by 5:30pm.  It was nutso.  But here he is: 

Mr. Finn Scott

Welcome to our crazy little family.  Glad to have ya.





...and thank you, Eddie Vedder. 

No Dying Via Smooshing Tonight!

What.  Up.  I am feeling freaking exhausted and I will tell you I don't necessarily think it's always because I am 21 months pregnant.  I haven't posted in awhile... mainly because the shit has hit the fan...  in a good way...  maybe??  Things are getting done.  I have implemented my 'Evil Plan'.  I may let you in on what it entails this week.  I will say that it has been working excellently and soon I will breathe again.  A recap of just the past 10 days... only in the order of which they come to my brain.

1.  One of the dead trees is gone.  Praise Baby Jesus.  I haven't gotten to 'try it out' yet though.  It hasn't freaking rained or stormed since.  I haven't been able to lay in my bed and think, "yaaaaay!  no dying via smooshing tonight!" 

2.  I had the mother fucking IEP meeting.

3.  On that note, I had five people sit around a table and after I asked, "well, we've knocked around the word 'autism' a lot...  do you think this is what's going on here?" they all simultaneously nodded and gave a "yup."  That was both the most gratifying and puke-able moment of my life.

4.  At same meeting, we were in like flynn to the school system's special needs pre-k.  Gratifying, yet puke-able.  Passed... nay... failed with flying colors.  Yay?

5.  I signed up for 'transportation' through the school system.  I will be putting MY THREE YEAR OLD on a bus four days a week.  I am not exaggerating when I say I fear it like I feared finding my father dead when he came home for hospice.  (Fun side note:  I got to be the one to find him, coughing... the 'marble sound' they speak of.  The sign it is 'beginning'.  Monsters are real, folks.)  My brain lets me think it out in my hyper-vigilant, extremely detailed way only to the point he gets on the bus.  Then my brain goes fuzzy and I lose a bit of breath.

6.  Bought a pump for the washer.  What the what...???  We'll be doing laundry NORMALLY again!

7.  Not only have we been putting in resumes, but receiving new dangled carrots from the employer... either way, we're working on it.

8.  We have been cleaning out our clutter like the Hoarders on TV.  This is both for physical space and psychological space.  Mmmm... feels good.

9.  Lola finally got baptized.  According to my mother, she can now go to Heaven... whereas before, I suppose if something untimely had happened she would have suffered in the pits of Hell.  I don't know if my mother and I worship the same God...  at least, I haven't SEEN Lola commit any mortal sins at the ripe old age of 22 months...  hmph.  Either way, glad it is done and it was a most fabulous day with the Sis and good friends.

10.  Coop is OLD.  He is 7.  This also implies *I* am old.  I swear I just popped him out yesterday.

Well, that's all I can think of.  Dumping it here always makes me feel better.  Hopefully it is also moderately entertaining.  Some here, at church, at various places, probably assume I've finally had this baby due to my absence... nope...  just sitting over here, solving the worlds problems and quietly teeter-tottering on the edge of insanity.  

I leave you with pics of our picnic near a little pond we found over the weekend.  It was amazingly quiet and somehow relaxing even with my crowd.  I'd say its just what we all needed.

Twas a must that we go on a picnic ON Labor Day because that is exactly what the sticker said on Labor Day.  Z also expected us to pack everything that was on said sticker...
 

How's THIS for large??  Wowza.  Put me out of my misery.

I couldn't get Coop out of the pond.  He wanted to stay there instead of going to the playground.  Like a good Cub Scout, he even picked up all the litter he could find without being asked.  It's things like that that warm my heart.

 

After the pond/playground adventure, I quickly retired to a well-deserved nap.  After this little nap, I awakened to find my living room had been turned into a man-cave so as to enjoy video games.  What the hell??

It was a good day.



 

My Snaggle Toofs.

BAM! Done.

Every year before homeschooling, we have a bit of an informal meeting.  We talk about the things we want to learn, the things we don't want to learn and the things we have to learn.  I try to write down a list and actually attain some of these goals.  This year I got the following wants... in order of...want.

Cooper:
dissect a frog
horseback riding
hiking
nature
camping and field trips
violin
cooking

Zander:
Singing & whistling
numbers
reading
horseback riding
cooking

Some of these things I was able to say, 'BAM!  Done.' due to Cub Scouts.  Others left me giggling (singing and whistling).  And yet others were baffling (dissect a frog).

When Uncle Bro said he was coming to visit with his biology-teacher-girlfriend, I was elated.  Not just because of frog-dreams, but damn, what a bonus.

I realize we are a weird family.  I am okay with this.  Actually, I am more than okay with this and honestly, think its the shit.  So, where normal parents surprise their kids with sweet treats, little gifties, outings... I surprised my kid with a... frog dissection.  It went smashingly and it's still talked about today.

 

 

Kid Quotes 8.21.2012

Here's where we put the crazy stuff that falls out of my kids faces...


As Cooper was running across the kitchen yesterday he spotted something odd on the floor.

"What in the name of Pangaea?"

My brain quickly said "What the hell?"  My mouth said, "Uh, by 'Pangaea' do you mean the large land mass that was the Earth millions of years ago?"

With an eye roll he mumbled, "uh... yeah?"

"mmmkay."  So goes our conversations during afternoon 'quiet time'.

* * * * *

The next 'quote' is hella hilarious to me.  I don't mind giving you the context because, hello, I am pregnant with my fifth kid.  Let's not kid ourselves:

Last night, after doing what-mommies-and-daddies-do-when-they-love-each-other-very-much, The Hubs opened our bedroom door to find a Cooper wielding a booklight in the dark of night.  Hubs was taken aback and asked him what he was doing there.

"I came up to go to the bathroom and then I wanted to make sure you guys were okay."

Thinking quickly... and awkwardly... the Hubs told Coop he had a really bad leg cramp.

"Oh wow.  It must have scared mama pretty bad then."

"uh... yeah...  it was really, really bad... and, and mama had been asleep and... it startled her."

"oh.  okay."

...I thankfully haven't had any weird questions (yet) today. 

* * * * *

And the following is a pic Coop took last night:

He claimed he wanted to document what his evening looks like for everyone to see.  To this I give a big raspberry.  =oP