So, apparently, The Boy thinks he doesn't think he needs to go to bed until I do. The problem is that, while I may stay up late, I'll be up in the morning, gettin er done. He sleeps 10 hours. And that's a problem for all of us, especially if he's up until 3:00. (I'll give you a minute to do the math.)
Since I apparently still have to model appropriate behavior, now I have to set up a TV/reading nook in the bedroom where he can't see me. (Hey, sometimes a girl just needs to watch Bones!)
We just don't have one of those family dynamics where I can say, "Do as I say, not as I do," and get away with it. Because of my kids tenuous grasp of social skills and self-care skills, it all has to be taught. And modeled.
So, that walk-in closet? May become my Bat Cave. How freakin' weird is that? Probably too weird. Other ideas? (Ones that don't involve my going to sleep at 9:30 at night?)
Monday, August 19, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
A stranger in a strange land
Yet another epiphany dawns. The reason I feel so alone is that I'm a stranger in a strange land.
I was raised by a liberal-minded, college educated, professional working woman in the 60's and 70's -- by a true feminist. In 1968, she became all that and a divorcee. Whatever the men had, that was what we were supposed to want. Junior high summer school: shop class or home ec? Puhleez! She put us in shop class. How I watched those sweet girls chatting over sandwiches while I was stuck with stupid boys. Story of my life.
So there I am, caught between the two worlds, neither fish nor fowl. My mother was the same, which is kind of ironic in a way.
But we gained some serious skills. And we learned how to talk to boys. And we went on to marry men we don't need for home repair. I guess.
Still, it's kind of lonely.
I was raised by a liberal-minded, college educated, professional working woman in the 60's and 70's -- by a true feminist. In 1968, she became all that and a divorcee. Whatever the men had, that was what we were supposed to want. Junior high summer school: shop class or home ec? Puhleez! She put us in shop class. How I watched those sweet girls chatting over sandwiches while I was stuck with stupid boys. Story of my life.
So there I am, caught between the two worlds, neither fish nor fowl. My mother was the same, which is kind of ironic in a way.
But we gained some serious skills. And we learned how to talk to boys. And we went on to marry men we don't need for home repair. I guess.
Still, it's kind of lonely.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
My son, the house pet
The boy wants to know why he can't live like the family pet for the rest of his life. I have two questions. What do I tell him? And where, oh where, did I go wrong?!
I blame video games for giving him a false sense of achievement and excitement. He is so lazy lately that he can't be bothered to make his own mental images if I read to him. Seriously lazy.
They say that sleeping too much and lethargy are signs of depression. Hmm.
I tried to explain the whole contributing to the planet, humanity, and the American economy thing, but he's against the idea. What now?
I'm thinking of boring him into submission. He'd have to get off his ass then, right? All I need to do is take a pair of garden shears to all the cables in the house.
Oh! I just imagined the ensuing carnage. It wasn't pretty.
This pediatrician on Thursday better have some good ideas or the phone number of a really good shrink.
But in the mean time, any ideas?
I blame video games for giving him a false sense of achievement and excitement. He is so lazy lately that he can't be bothered to make his own mental images if I read to him. Seriously lazy.
They say that sleeping too much and lethargy are signs of depression. Hmm.
I tried to explain the whole contributing to the planet, humanity, and the American economy thing, but he's against the idea. What now?
I'm thinking of boring him into submission. He'd have to get off his ass then, right? All I need to do is take a pair of garden shears to all the cables in the house.
Oh! I just imagined the ensuing carnage. It wasn't pretty.
This pediatrician on Thursday better have some good ideas or the phone number of a really good shrink.
But in the mean time, any ideas?
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Uncommon courtesy?
Okay, tell me if I'm missing something here. I told my homeschool girlfriend that The Boy was cleaning out his closet and asked if she wanted me to save the t-shirts and shorts for her son. She said, "Sure thanks," and she offered Tuesday or Friday of this week to get together. Since the boys haven't gotten together in a long while, I offered a play date at the (free) splash park right near her house. We agreed on: Tuesday, 10am, splash park, three boys. Okay, so far, so good, right?
On the way over, The Boy had a massive nosebleed, so I had to pull over and deal with it. I called her to tell her we'd be five minutes late, and she said, "Well, my son had a leg cramp last night and doesn't feel well. We may not be going." I said I understood, asked if we could just drop off the clothes, and told her we'd probably go on to the park by ourselves anyway. ( I figured that'd give her an "out" for having bailed -- we could salvage a 20-minute trip across town.) We stopped at their house and found them having a quiet morning at home. We chatted for a bit and left the clothes. No big deal.
My only question is, "When was she going to tell me she wasn't coming -- when I called her from the park at 10:30?" My kids were in swimsuits and half-way across town. She and her kids were all just hanging at home. I understand that homeschoolers are notoriously flaky, but I don't think I'm going to call her again soon. I went out of my way to make a play date at 10am, and she didn't have the bare-minimum courtesy to call and cancel at the last minute?
Is civilization in decline when courtesy means "calling and cancelling at the last minute"? Or is it me?
On the way over, The Boy had a massive nosebleed, so I had to pull over and deal with it. I called her to tell her we'd be five minutes late, and she said, "Well, my son had a leg cramp last night and doesn't feel well. We may not be going." I said I understood, asked if we could just drop off the clothes, and told her we'd probably go on to the park by ourselves anyway. ( I figured that'd give her an "out" for having bailed -- we could salvage a 20-minute trip across town.) We stopped at their house and found them having a quiet morning at home. We chatted for a bit and left the clothes. No big deal.
My only question is, "When was she going to tell me she wasn't coming -- when I called her from the park at 10:30?" My kids were in swimsuits and half-way across town. She and her kids were all just hanging at home. I understand that homeschoolers are notoriously flaky, but I don't think I'm going to call her again soon. I went out of my way to make a play date at 10am, and she didn't have the bare-minimum courtesy to call and cancel at the last minute?
Is civilization in decline when courtesy means "calling and cancelling at the last minute"? Or is it me?
Monday, August 5, 2013
paradigm shift needed
Trying to keep in the habit of blogging. Hm.
The cat is on my kneeling chair, trying to brutally murder his tail and/or the chair. The boy is sleeping. (Apparently, there is a difference between awake and rested, as his Algebra work this morning demonstrates.) And The Girl is making a whistling-wind noise with her mouth. She'll do this for another five minutes and then start gagging. No one knows why.
See? La vida loca!
I've already looked at the Calvert package I got for 8th grade. Oh my. This is like... real school. You know, where the kid mostly does it all day and gets evenings and weekends off? It can no longer be just something he does in his spare time when he feels up to it. It's his full-time job to do school. Yikes. That's going to require a paradigm shift. Responsibility and diligent work. During the day. Oh dear. What do I do now? First stop: the sleep clinic, to pick up a quart of ether for school nights. Oh, okay, the pediatrician on Thursday. Fine. Sheesh.
The cat is on my kneeling chair, trying to brutally murder his tail and/or the chair. The boy is sleeping. (Apparently, there is a difference between awake and rested, as his Algebra work this morning demonstrates.) And The Girl is making a whistling-wind noise with her mouth. She'll do this for another five minutes and then start gagging. No one knows why.
See? La vida loca!
I've already looked at the Calvert package I got for 8th grade. Oh my. This is like... real school. You know, where the kid mostly does it all day and gets evenings and weekends off? It can no longer be just something he does in his spare time when he feels up to it. It's his full-time job to do school. Yikes. That's going to require a paradigm shift. Responsibility and diligent work. During the day. Oh dear. What do I do now? First stop: the sleep clinic, to pick up a quart of ether for school nights. Oh, okay, the pediatrician on Thursday. Fine. Sheesh.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
On the verge...
It's strange, but lately, I feel like I really on the verge of something -- again. But I don't know what.
The kids are now 13 and becoming teenagers. They're not my little buddies anymore. Well, to be honest, The Girl never really has been -- autism has a way of making that sketchy at best. The Boy is becoming a teenager, sleeping all the time, getting almost as tall as I am, getting a fashion sense. In ways, though, he's still socially a ten-year-old. Asperger's has a way of making that sketchy at best.
Either way, I'm getting lonely again. No buddies here anymore. And I really can't afford to be The Boy's buddy anymore anyway. He has to stand on his own, order his own fast food, learn to talk on the phone, that sort of thing. Time to toughen him up a bit, I think. He's not a baby anymore. Note to self: stop asking if he has to go pee before we leave the house. ;)
On a brighter note, my sister may be moving down, at least part time. Seems that all those years in Our Nation's Service has paid off handsomely for her and her husband. She's retired on 30% pay, and he's retired at 50% pay -- they're making more than The Husband does, just on retirement money. Note to self: don't tell husband. Anyway, they're both telecommuting for some contractor right now, doing technical writing I think, and they're feeling exceptionally rich. So rich, in fact, that they're buying a house here that's selling for $50K more than ours. Mixed emotions.
Yeah. The Sister's kids are all grown and flown mostly. The Niece is 25 and finally in college. The Nephew has recently joined the same branch of Our Nation's Service that his parents did. (I think he wants to clean guns for a living. Hoo-kay.) Anyway, they're just waiting for the last dog to die, and they're free.
I'll never be free. Ever. Autism has a way of making that sketchy at best. But if I can avoid trying to suck the life out of my sister, maybe I'll have a buddy here. My girlfriends that just "pop out to the movies" don't understand. I'll never be free until I put The Girl in assisted living. And maybe The Boy, too if I don't get on the stick. Too scary to think about.
But the back-to-school shopping is finished. (Hey, homeschoolers need a good deal on shorts, too!) The curriculum is all ordered -- Calvert, and Life of Fred for The Boy, and Paths of Exploration, Science Odyssey, Math-U-See for the Girl.
I've spend the last year trying to jump-start The Girl's reading comprehension, but it hasn't clicked yet. We read, ask, re-tell, imagine, rinse, and repeat. But still no huge improvement. Still waiting. But while I'm waiting, we're going to go ahead and learn something. Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!
So. Eighth grade, eh? Yup. Buckle up.
The kids are now 13 and becoming teenagers. They're not my little buddies anymore. Well, to be honest, The Girl never really has been -- autism has a way of making that sketchy at best. The Boy is becoming a teenager, sleeping all the time, getting almost as tall as I am, getting a fashion sense. In ways, though, he's still socially a ten-year-old. Asperger's has a way of making that sketchy at best.
Either way, I'm getting lonely again. No buddies here anymore. And I really can't afford to be The Boy's buddy anymore anyway. He has to stand on his own, order his own fast food, learn to talk on the phone, that sort of thing. Time to toughen him up a bit, I think. He's not a baby anymore. Note to self: stop asking if he has to go pee before we leave the house. ;)
On a brighter note, my sister may be moving down, at least part time. Seems that all those years in Our Nation's Service has paid off handsomely for her and her husband. She's retired on 30% pay, and he's retired at 50% pay -- they're making more than The Husband does, just on retirement money. Note to self: don't tell husband. Anyway, they're both telecommuting for some contractor right now, doing technical writing I think, and they're feeling exceptionally rich. So rich, in fact, that they're buying a house here that's selling for $50K more than ours. Mixed emotions.
Yeah. The Sister's kids are all grown and flown mostly. The Niece is 25 and finally in college. The Nephew has recently joined the same branch of Our Nation's Service that his parents did. (I think he wants to clean guns for a living. Hoo-kay.) Anyway, they're just waiting for the last dog to die, and they're free.
I'll never be free. Ever. Autism has a way of making that sketchy at best. But if I can avoid trying to suck the life out of my sister, maybe I'll have a buddy here. My girlfriends that just "pop out to the movies" don't understand. I'll never be free until I put The Girl in assisted living. And maybe The Boy, too if I don't get on the stick. Too scary to think about.
But the back-to-school shopping is finished. (Hey, homeschoolers need a good deal on shorts, too!) The curriculum is all ordered -- Calvert, and Life of Fred for The Boy, and Paths of Exploration, Science Odyssey, Math-U-See for the Girl.
I've spend the last year trying to jump-start The Girl's reading comprehension, but it hasn't clicked yet. We read, ask, re-tell, imagine, rinse, and repeat. But still no huge improvement. Still waiting. But while I'm waiting, we're going to go ahead and learn something. Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!
So. Eighth grade, eh? Yup. Buckle up.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Too much...
Has anyone ever had to *force* themselves into sleep for more than, say, ten nights in a row? The Boy has gone all nocturnal on us, and now I'm starting to slip. So, I get in bed at 11pm and *force* myself to sleep. And every time he wakes me up, I do it again. I now hate sleeping.
I read (somewhere on the interwebs) that if you lie absolutely still and don't move a single muscle for 15 full minutes, you *will* fall asleep. It does seem to work eventually, but now I hate sleeping. But not as much as being practically unconscious every "waking" hour...
I'd go to the doctor about either of us, but he'd say, "Exercise an hour a day, don't eat junk, avoid caffeine after noon, turn off all the electronics two hours before bed, don't nap, make your bed room soothing and restful." Shit, man, if I could do that, I wouldn't be at the doctor's office EVER AGAIN! All I want to do is sleep when I'm tired. Is that too much to ask?
On a more fun note, I'm making tacos for twenty Christian teens tonight. I found the perfect dessert -- Choco Tacos! So knew such a thing existed!? Ain't America grand...
I read (somewhere on the interwebs) that if you lie absolutely still and don't move a single muscle for 15 full minutes, you *will* fall asleep. It does seem to work eventually, but now I hate sleeping. But not as much as being practically unconscious every "waking" hour...
I'd go to the doctor about either of us, but he'd say, "Exercise an hour a day, don't eat junk, avoid caffeine after noon, turn off all the electronics two hours before bed, don't nap, make your bed room soothing and restful." Shit, man, if I could do that, I wouldn't be at the doctor's office EVER AGAIN! All I want to do is sleep when I'm tired. Is that too much to ask?
On a more fun note, I'm making tacos for twenty Christian teens tonight. I found the perfect dessert -- Choco Tacos! So knew such a thing existed!? Ain't America grand...
Friday, May 10, 2013
Spit!
Finished packing all my shorts and sandals for summer vacation, then checked Monday's forecast at the lake:
Ahh, spit. We're going NORTH, aren't we...
Ahh, spit. We're going NORTH, aren't we...
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Bodies...
Well, our trip starts day after tomorrow. I've passed the fluttery-nervous stage and have moved on to bone-crushing panic! HELP! There's too many things that can go wrong, and The Boy has some kind of virus thing. He insists that it's Ebola and he's not going on the trip, and it's stressing me out! And I'm SURE there isn't room in the car for everything!! What if I lose the name of the hotel we're staying at on the way up? Or forget the DVD player for the back seat?!
I did manage to get the utilities set up at the Lake House, and my sister-in-law swears it's all ready for the renter coming tomorrow. I still have to get trash pickup arranged, but I don't have to change over my homeowner's insurance now because my August renter (yes, she had reserved all four weeks) has cancelled. My current insurance won't let me rent for more than six weeks a year, so no problem now! Of course, I can't afford to pay the insurance, but that's another story...
I've got all the stuff that I need to get the car packed, but haven't actually packed anything yet. I've tested out the position of the bins and cages, etc., and it all fits, but I'm sure we're going to have too many clothes. The car's been fixed and set up for the trip. I've even got fresh batteries in the irrigation system. I've got all the mail forwarded in the right direction, but I haven't dealt with the newspaper or lawn. I need to finish a quilt and clean the house. The problem is that I just can't move.
At least the lawyers up north have finished my LLC. By tomorrow, the checks I deposited in my LLC's bank account will have cleared and I'll be able to pay the lawyers.
So, tonight I have a university awards dinner for The Husband, and then the final push begins. I think I'm going to die. The Boy and I can just be buried in a duffel bag in the back yard. K?
I did manage to get the utilities set up at the Lake House, and my sister-in-law swears it's all ready for the renter coming tomorrow. I still have to get trash pickup arranged, but I don't have to change over my homeowner's insurance now because my August renter (yes, she had reserved all four weeks) has cancelled. My current insurance won't let me rent for more than six weeks a year, so no problem now! Of course, I can't afford to pay the insurance, but that's another story...
I've got all the stuff that I need to get the car packed, but haven't actually packed anything yet. I've tested out the position of the bins and cages, etc., and it all fits, but I'm sure we're going to have too many clothes. The car's been fixed and set up for the trip. I've even got fresh batteries in the irrigation system. I've got all the mail forwarded in the right direction, but I haven't dealt with the newspaper or lawn. I need to finish a quilt and clean the house. The problem is that I just can't move.
At least the lawyers up north have finished my LLC. By tomorrow, the checks I deposited in my LLC's bank account will have cleared and I'll be able to pay the lawyers.
So, tonight I have a university awards dinner for The Husband, and then the final push begins. I think I'm going to die. The Boy and I can just be buried in a duffel bag in the back yard. K?
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Take it while you can...
I keep trying to find positive, count-my-blessings subjects to blog about, but life isn't cooperating right now. But, umm. Here goes.
Weather. The weather is gorgeous! The jasmine's in bloom, as the old song goes. We went to a minor-league ball game today. It was cloudy and 75, with a cool wind off the ocean. Aside from the alternating moaning and screaming of my way-too-old-for-this-shit kids, it was really nice. I got to see my homeschool girlfriends. They were really cool.
The private school sitting next to us was called "Lilies of the Field Academy". Much to our surprise, it was a small private school, consisting entirely of black kids. The critical mass of the kids was a band of little boys who spent most of the time joyfully bouncing around like pinballs. They were SO cute! Most of the dads were tattooed and/or dreadlocked, the moms were sharp-dressed, and the kids were in uniform. They were really nice, too. The woman next to me had a seven-month-old baby with her, and The Girl kept trying to pet the baby's skin. I apologized and told the woman that The Girl seldom sees black babies, and this one was particularly beautiful -- like milk chocolate, only move velvety. :) She chuckled. Silly white woman... Probably perms her hair to make it curl. Psht.
The rest of the trip was a total fiasco. Lots of junk food followed, but not enough to keep The Girl in the stadium past the 4th inning. I got to talk with my old buddies at the science museum booth outside the stadium while The Girl ate Italian ice (and The Boy assumed I was never coming back for him). They commiserated with me about the difficulty of teaching a girl who is too old for arts-n-crafts learning and not cognizant enough to learn abstract ideas. You remember last year's complaint -- I tell her that bugs breathe through their butts, and she gives me the look that says, "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?!" Yeah. I told them I was considering an iPad (with applecare+) and they said that might be a good idea because of the great education apps.
I spent the afternoon on the Oak Meadow website, looking at their third-grade curriculum. It looks great, except for the reading list: The Wizard of Oz, The Velveteen Rabbit, Charlotte’s Web, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh, Little House in the Big Woods, and Peter Pan. All are excellent books, but way above her reading level. *sigh* It's even above her listening level. What to do...
Anyway, the kids went to bed at 9:30 -- The Boy actually went (back) to sleep around 6:00 pm -- and The Husband and I are surfing the 'net together on the couch. He's singing ABBA's "Take a Chance" right now. :) So life is good for another few minutes. I'll take it while I can.
Weather. The weather is gorgeous! The jasmine's in bloom, as the old song goes. We went to a minor-league ball game today. It was cloudy and 75, with a cool wind off the ocean. Aside from the alternating moaning and screaming of my way-too-old-for-this-shit kids, it was really nice. I got to see my homeschool girlfriends. They were really cool.
The private school sitting next to us was called "Lilies of the Field Academy". Much to our surprise, it was a small private school, consisting entirely of black kids. The critical mass of the kids was a band of little boys who spent most of the time joyfully bouncing around like pinballs. They were SO cute! Most of the dads were tattooed and/or dreadlocked, the moms were sharp-dressed, and the kids were in uniform. They were really nice, too. The woman next to me had a seven-month-old baby with her, and The Girl kept trying to pet the baby's skin. I apologized and told the woman that The Girl seldom sees black babies, and this one was particularly beautiful -- like milk chocolate, only move velvety. :) She chuckled. Silly white woman... Probably perms her hair to make it curl. Psht.
The rest of the trip was a total fiasco. Lots of junk food followed, but not enough to keep The Girl in the stadium past the 4th inning. I got to talk with my old buddies at the science museum booth outside the stadium while The Girl ate Italian ice (and The Boy assumed I was never coming back for him). They commiserated with me about the difficulty of teaching a girl who is too old for arts-n-crafts learning and not cognizant enough to learn abstract ideas. You remember last year's complaint -- I tell her that bugs breathe through their butts, and she gives me the look that says, "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?!" Yeah. I told them I was considering an iPad (with applecare+) and they said that might be a good idea because of the great education apps.
I spent the afternoon on the Oak Meadow website, looking at their third-grade curriculum. It looks great, except for the reading list: The Wizard of Oz, The Velveteen Rabbit, Charlotte’s Web, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh, Little House in the Big Woods, and Peter Pan. All are excellent books, but way above her reading level. *sigh* It's even above her listening level. What to do...
Anyway, the kids went to bed at 9:30 -- The Boy actually went (back) to sleep around 6:00 pm -- and The Husband and I are surfing the 'net together on the couch. He's singing ABBA's "Take a Chance" right now. :) So life is good for another few minutes. I'll take it while I can.
Bon Mots: petulant, as in "petulant slacker!"
pet·u·lant [PECH-uh-luhnt]
1. irritable, impatient, or sullen in a peevish or capricious way
Origin:
1590–1600; < Latin petulant- (stem of petulāns ) impudent, akin to petere to seek, head for
My son is being particularly petulant today -- everything I do annoys him. So, in return, he annoys me.
Yeah, we're winding down to "summer" vacation here. I was hoping to get next week off to clean, pack, etc., but it seems I'll be teaching this week's lessons instead. You'd think that the promise of a new toy and a week off of school and a lesson-free vacation would be enough incentive, but no...
Tell me -- is there a legal way to get him off his ass and convince him to get this shit done? Seriously, he's driving me to swearing on the internet!
1. irritable, impatient, or sullen in a peevish or capricious way
Origin:
1590–1600; < Latin petulant- (stem of petulāns ) impudent, akin to petere to seek, head for
My son is being particularly petulant today -- everything I do annoys him. So, in return, he annoys me.
Yeah, we're winding down to "summer" vacation here. I was hoping to get next week off to clean, pack, etc., but it seems I'll be teaching this week's lessons instead. You'd think that the promise of a new toy and a week off of school and a lesson-free vacation would be enough incentive, but no...
Tell me -- is there a legal way to get him off his ass and convince him to get this shit done? Seriously, he's driving me to swearing on the internet!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Bon Mots: untoward
un·to·ward [uhn-tawrd, -tohrd]
1. unfavorable or unfortunate: Untoward circumstances forced him into bankruptcy.
2. improper: untoward social behavior.
3. Archaic. froward; perverse.
Origin:
1520–30; un + toward
"I wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to your Lego that you left on the floor."
When this word is used, the sentence always seems to be followed by a clearing of the throat. "Ahem." There is something unsaid or hinting about this word. Something taboo is afoot.
It is a Southern word that I remember my mother using quite frequently when I was a child. In fact, she once had a cold that was accompanied by a lot of that throat-clearing noise. I spent two weeks constantly on edge, trying to figure out what I had just done wrong. Ahem! Sorry... My hair was starting to thin by the time she recovered.
1. unfavorable or unfortunate: Untoward circumstances forced him into bankruptcy.
2. improper: untoward social behavior.
3. Archaic. froward; perverse.
Origin:
1520–30; un + toward
"I wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to your Lego that you left on the floor."
When this word is used, the sentence always seems to be followed by a clearing of the throat. "Ahem." There is something unsaid or hinting about this word. Something taboo is afoot.
It is a Southern word that I remember my mother using quite frequently when I was a child. In fact, she once had a cold that was accompanied by a lot of that throat-clearing noise. I spent two weeks constantly on edge, trying to figure out what I had just done wrong. Ahem! Sorry... My hair was starting to thin by the time she recovered.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Grapes of wrath
I had a drag-the-kid-screaming-from-the-restaurant moment with The Girl today. Basically, The Boy ate all the grapes from the fruit salad, and I wouldn't magically produce new ones for her. "The grapes are all gone," I told her. The scene escalated until I had to snatch her up and drag her miserable, 13-year-old ass out of the Bob Evans to cool down. After some severe negotiations (none of which included more grapes), we agreed to quiet down, return to the restaurant, and have a big chocolate chip cookie for dessert. But she still wasn't happy.
The waitress returned, offering more grapes, and I said, "NO. I cannot continue to pull miracles out of my butt for the rest of her life. She's going to have to learn to deal with it." The worst thing was that while I was gone, my parents felt the need to explain everything to the other diners. Oy. It's none of their business, Clearly, she's got issues. They'll figure something out.
Okay, here comes the comic relief. The waitress showed up and started rambling about how she had seen a show on TV about an autistic child who sang the national anthem, and I cut her off. I ordered pie for The Boy and asked The Girl what she wanted for dessert. Without hesitating, this blessed child said, quite clearly and calmly, "A chocolate chip cookie. And grapes." We laughed until we cried.
Around our house, April is "Autism is Painfully Obvious" month. We roll with it.
The waitress returned, offering more grapes, and I said, "NO. I cannot continue to pull miracles out of my butt for the rest of her life. She's going to have to learn to deal with it." The worst thing was that while I was gone, my parents felt the need to explain everything to the other diners. Oy. It's none of their business, Clearly, she's got issues. They'll figure something out.
Okay, here comes the comic relief. The waitress showed up and started rambling about how she had seen a show on TV about an autistic child who sang the national anthem, and I cut her off. I ordered pie for The Boy and asked The Girl what she wanted for dessert. Without hesitating, this blessed child said, quite clearly and calmly, "A chocolate chip cookie. And grapes." We laughed until we cried.
Around our house, April is "Autism is Painfully Obvious" month. We roll with it.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Is it time to panic yet?
Just realized we're going Up North to our camp for our early summer vacation in less than three weeks! NOT ENOUGH TIME!!
We'll be staying six weeks and then renting it out for the rest of the summer. I have one renter coming for Mother's Day weekend, and then it's ours for six weeks. That means we'll be back in the south in time for the fourth of July -- and the bulk of the heat. It also means we'll have some income to help pay for the house. And it also means I have double the worries of our normal Invasion-of-Normandy-style travel plans.
I'm half-way through setting up electricity, cable, wi-fi, mail, trash pickup, and a well-water test for the house Up North. I've already figured out how to pack all the house stuff, clothes, and cats for the trip. I've bought the roof rack, cat crate, and plastic bins. I need to finish sewing a quilt, clean the house, fix the car, shop for kids' clothes, and pack the clothes. And a bunch of stuff I'm sure I haven't remembered yet, like setting up the lawn service for Florida, forwarding the mail, picking up extra prescriptions, putting fresh batteries in the irrigation systems, stopping the newspaper, etc.
Oh, and have I mentioned that my lawyers Up North still haven't finished my LLC paperwork, so I can't cash any of the deposit checks for the renters? And I have one coming in two weeks?
When we get there, I have to change our homeowner's insurance, paint the house, insulate the attic, fix the deck, install new windows. My sister-in-law is trying to find us a contractor for those last two, so I'm waiting a few days before I ask her to find someone to put in the dock for the renters who are coming before we get there.
Is it time to panic yet?
We'll be staying six weeks and then renting it out for the rest of the summer. I have one renter coming for Mother's Day weekend, and then it's ours for six weeks. That means we'll be back in the south in time for the fourth of July -- and the bulk of the heat. It also means we'll have some income to help pay for the house. And it also means I have double the worries of our normal Invasion-of-Normandy-style travel plans.
I'm half-way through setting up electricity, cable, wi-fi, mail, trash pickup, and a well-water test for the house Up North. I've already figured out how to pack all the house stuff, clothes, and cats for the trip. I've bought the roof rack, cat crate, and plastic bins. I need to finish sewing a quilt, clean the house, fix the car, shop for kids' clothes, and pack the clothes. And a bunch of stuff I'm sure I haven't remembered yet, like setting up the lawn service for Florida, forwarding the mail, picking up extra prescriptions, putting fresh batteries in the irrigation systems, stopping the newspaper, etc.
Oh, and have I mentioned that my lawyers Up North still haven't finished my LLC paperwork, so I can't cash any of the deposit checks for the renters? And I have one coming in two weeks?
When we get there, I have to change our homeowner's insurance, paint the house, insulate the attic, fix the deck, install new windows. My sister-in-law is trying to find us a contractor for those last two, so I'm waiting a few days before I ask her to find someone to put in the dock for the renters who are coming before we get there.
Is it time to panic yet?
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Bon mots: obstreperous
ob-strep-er-ous (uh b STREP ur uh s)
1. resisting control or restraint in a difficult manner; unruly.
2. refusing to do a task simply because someone asked one to do it.
"My newly-teenage son is so obstreperous that if I asked him to breathe, he'd suffocate just to spite me. And then he'd blame me."
Seriously. What a jerk.
1. resisting control or restraint in a difficult manner; unruly.
2. refusing to do a task simply because someone asked one to do it.
"My newly-teenage son is so obstreperous that if I asked him to breathe, he'd suffocate just to spite me. And then he'd blame me."
Seriously. What a jerk.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Oh sure. Shorts... and a new bon mot!
So last night, I was out at the library (alone!) and phoned The Husband to ask if it was okay for me to run on out to Bealls to try on some shorts, as all of mine are rags.
He said, "Sure! Go have fun!"
He seemed mystified when I told him I couldn't do both. I swear, trying on shorts is becoming the new trying on swimsuits. Handy hint: if the zipper isn't at least three inches long, forget about them.
Bon mot for the day:
inveterate (in VET er it)
1. settled or confirmed in a habit, practice, feeling or the like: an inveterate gambler
2. stubborn as a mule, to the point of complete inflexibility
"I am an inveterate whiner."
I really have to work on that...
He said, "Sure! Go have fun!"
He seemed mystified when I told him I couldn't do both. I swear, trying on shorts is becoming the new trying on swimsuits. Handy hint: if the zipper isn't at least three inches long, forget about them.
Bon mot for the day:
inveterate (in VET er it)
1. settled or confirmed in a habit, practice, feeling or the like: an inveterate gambler
2. stubborn as a mule, to the point of complete inflexibility
"I am an inveterate whiner."
I really have to work on that...
Monday, April 22, 2013
Very elegant...
Apparently, my shirt tails are too short. I know this because when I was gardening last weekend, I got my annual pre-summer sunburn -- this time across my lower back where my t-shirt didn't quite meet my jeans in the back. (It's what I get for sitting in the dirt.) So, now I have a tramp-stamp sunburn mark with a little curve where the sun tried to burn my butt crack. It's very elegant.
See?
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Bon mots: facile and cloying
It's a twofer today! (I'll be looking up "twofer" later...)
fac-ile (FAS il)
1. easily done, performed, used, etc.: a facile victory, a facile method
2. explained in a way that is accessible to toddlers
cloy-ing (KLOI ing)
1. overly ingratiating or sentimental.
2. sickeningly sweet,: a cloying photo of a blue-eyed Jesus petting sheep
"I dislike attending church because the pastor's "me and Jesus" style of preaching is facile and cloying."
fac-ile (FAS il)
1. easily done, performed, used, etc.: a facile victory, a facile method
2. explained in a way that is accessible to toddlers
cloy-ing (KLOI ing)
1. overly ingratiating or sentimental.
2. sickeningly sweet,: a cloying photo of a blue-eyed Jesus petting sheep
"I dislike attending church because the pastor's "me and Jesus" style of preaching is facile and cloying."
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Manners
"Salt, please!"
It has a ring like, "More Park's Sausages, Mom!" Somehow, The Husband doesn't think that's bad manners. He says that The Boy does not have to sound like Little Lord Fauntleroy in order to get food. I say he does.
One of the perks of dinnertime is the Civilization Of the Next Generation, right? Most of the day, they can get away with, "You gonna eat that, or what?" But at dinner, the bar gets raised a bit.
Not that he doesn't resist any attempt on my part. Sometimes, he reflexively says, "thank you" and is appalled enough to complain that I have brainwashed him. Naturally, I simply laugh maniacally and say that it's part of my evil plan.
So, tell me, is it unreasonable to ask for, "May I have the salt, please?"
It has a ring like, "More Park's Sausages, Mom!" Somehow, The Husband doesn't think that's bad manners. He says that The Boy does not have to sound like Little Lord Fauntleroy in order to get food. I say he does.
One of the perks of dinnertime is the Civilization Of the Next Generation, right? Most of the day, they can get away with, "You gonna eat that, or what?" But at dinner, the bar gets raised a bit.
Not that he doesn't resist any attempt on my part. Sometimes, he reflexively says, "thank you" and is appalled enough to complain that I have brainwashed him. Naturally, I simply laugh maniacally and say that it's part of my evil plan.
So, tell me, is it unreasonable to ask for, "May I have the salt, please?"
A few bon mots...
I've been dropping my strange-but-true stories into Facebook for a few months, and I'm finding it too temporal. Things just fly by and disappear. Ew. I'm not up to writing endless prose, but maybe I can drop a word or two. For example:
op-ti-mism (OP-tuh-miz-uh-m)
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2 what I feel when my day hits its low point several hours before dawn
"After snaking out the toilet at 2am, I'm optimistic that my day that will improve!"
op-ti-mism (OP-tuh-miz-uh-m)
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2 what I feel when my day hits its low point several hours before dawn
"After snaking out the toilet at 2am, I'm optimistic that my day that will improve!"
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
MiracleStun: For the Overexuberant Garden!
Okay, I'm not getting enough validation on facebook from my so-called friends, so I'm resorting to blogging. (I know, so shallow!)
It's spring here -- late spring to be honest -- and it's landscaping time again. How I love gardening!! The fresh smells of dirt, the green shoots on plants assumed dead since they went leafless months ago. LOVE!
I love it up north, mainly. Here, it's just selective plant homicide. (Vegicide? Herbicide?) I have become the Marquess de Sod -- seeking the disciplined landscape.
First came the weeds. Dollarweed, heart-leaf nettle, crabgrass, chick weed. All of them in my perennial beds. ("OH, put in perennial beds -- you 'll never mow it again!" Sure! I'll be too busy ripping up weeds for that anyway!)
At least only one of the weeds is toxic -- the heart-leaf nettle. Strange, but the plant's sting is often compared to fire ant bites. Quelle coincidence. Seems the fire ants "farm" aphids in the bushes I'm pruning. Yeah. They stung me between my shoulder blades where I can't reach them. Nasty creatures.
It's a jungle out there... So, for your amusement, I present "Pruning a Year's Growth Off the Florida Privet":
That's right, a year's growth. I'm trimming them back down to five feet tall -- like the bush on the far-right of the picture. "Grows to ten fee tall" my ass!
See?
Seriously, I'm wondering what I can put on it to stunt its growth. Sort of an anti-fertilizer. I don't want to kill it -- just stunt it. I can see it now: MiracleStun, for the overexuberant garden!
Just assume everything's a weed.
It's spring here -- late spring to be honest -- and it's landscaping time again. How I love gardening!! The fresh smells of dirt, the green shoots on plants assumed dead since they went leafless months ago. LOVE!
I love it up north, mainly. Here, it's just selective plant homicide. (Vegicide? Herbicide?) I have become the Marquess de Sod -- seeking the disciplined landscape.
First came the weeds. Dollarweed, heart-leaf nettle, crabgrass, chick weed. All of them in my perennial beds. ("OH, put in perennial beds -- you 'll never mow it again!" Sure! I'll be too busy ripping up weeds for that anyway!)
At least only one of the weeds is toxic -- the heart-leaf nettle. Strange, but the plant's sting is often compared to fire ant bites. Quelle coincidence. Seems the fire ants "farm" aphids in the bushes I'm pruning. Yeah. They stung me between my shoulder blades where I can't reach them. Nasty creatures.
It's a jungle out there... So, for your amusement, I present "Pruning a Year's Growth Off the Florida Privet":
See?
Seriously, I'm wondering what I can put on it to stunt its growth. Sort of an anti-fertilizer. I don't want to kill it -- just stunt it. I can see it now: MiracleStun, for the overexuberant garden!
Just assume everything's a weed.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Homeschool -- feelin' the love...
Just to make me feel better about my homeschool, my father sent me this:
So, ya feelin' the love now?
Sunday, January 13, 2013
How did THAT happen?!
Took The Boy out shopping for a blanket/quilt/comforter this weekend. Saw a gorgeous cobalt blue comforter. It was the perfect color. It was luminescent. The Boy -- my boy -- had the decency to be absolutely SHOCKED at the price. I believe he said, "Geez! That costs as much as a thingie
here>." I was so pleased!
You know what this means, right? He's paying attention!! The whole allowance, saving money, and shopping for deals thing makes sense to him. When he wanted a Mac for Christmas, he figured out whether he wanted a laptop or desktop, what the generations looked like, what they cost, what they would run. He searched eBay for months until he found this beauty:
$140 later, he's playing garage band, surfing the net, playing apps, and probably plotting world domination.
Somewhere, somehow, I taught The Boy something useful! I wonder how...
here>." I was so pleased!
You know what this means, right? He's paying attention!! The whole allowance, saving money, and shopping for deals thing makes sense to him. When he wanted a Mac for Christmas, he figured out whether he wanted a laptop or desktop, what the generations looked like, what they cost, what they would run. He searched eBay for months until he found this beauty:
$140 later, he's playing garage band, surfing the net, playing apps, and probably plotting world domination.
Somewhere, somehow, I taught The Boy something useful! I wonder how...
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Goals. Yeah, I should make some goals...
So, a new year. Hm. I feel the need to be enthusiastic about something. But what?
I could just work on my existing to-do list. That'd be a start. I'd like to take beginner yoga. I'd like to get the kids involved in more out-of-the-house activities. I'd like to lose 30 pounds -- just to regain the "normal" range. I have curriculum things I could work on. I have some projects for the lake house.
Ooh! Did I mention we FINALLY closed on the lake house? Yup, we got us some real estate Up North. It's currently under three feet of snow, but they promise it'll melt by May. Probably.
Now, I can do all those cool Pinterest things I've found that I can't use at home! Painted dressers, branches used as curtain rods, Ikea shelving. The house came furnished, but none of the sheets are made of cotton and the couch smells doggy. The house does have good bones, though. I just have to beware of overdecorating. It's supposed to be a place where you can relax and not worry about putting your feet on the couch. They call it a "camp" rather than a "cottage". Whatevah. I'm making Snoopy quilts for The Girl's bedroom. The Boy's bedroom is going to be in Moose. (Trust me on this one.) Our bedroom is already pretty nice, but I've already made wall hangings for it to match the comforter. But mostly, I have to calm down, set up an LLC, change over the homeowner's insurance, and get some summer renters.
But overall, I'm not feeling that excited "let's go!", New Year's thing.
I think the best thing I could focus on right now is finding my fun. The family will benefit from it, I'll benefit from it. We need more dinners at the beach, more tempera paint, more holiday decorations, more kids groups. More walks, more parks, more silly books. More sleep, more exercise, more pie. More fun.
How's that sound for a goal? Yay!
I could just work on my existing to-do list. That'd be a start. I'd like to take beginner yoga. I'd like to get the kids involved in more out-of-the-house activities. I'd like to lose 30 pounds -- just to regain the "normal" range. I have curriculum things I could work on. I have some projects for the lake house.
Ooh! Did I mention we FINALLY closed on the lake house? Yup, we got us some real estate Up North. It's currently under three feet of snow, but they promise it'll melt by May. Probably.
Now, I can do all those cool Pinterest things I've found that I can't use at home! Painted dressers, branches used as curtain rods, Ikea shelving. The house came furnished, but none of the sheets are made of cotton and the couch smells doggy. The house does have good bones, though. I just have to beware of overdecorating. It's supposed to be a place where you can relax and not worry about putting your feet on the couch. They call it a "camp" rather than a "cottage". Whatevah. I'm making Snoopy quilts for The Girl's bedroom. The Boy's bedroom is going to be in Moose. (Trust me on this one.) Our bedroom is already pretty nice, but I've already made wall hangings for it to match the comforter. But mostly, I have to calm down, set up an LLC, change over the homeowner's insurance, and get some summer renters.
But overall, I'm not feeling that excited "let's go!", New Year's thing.
I think the best thing I could focus on right now is finding my fun. The family will benefit from it, I'll benefit from it. We need more dinners at the beach, more tempera paint, more holiday decorations, more kids groups. More walks, more parks, more silly books. More sleep, more exercise, more pie. More fun.
How's that sound for a goal? Yay!
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