The Sound Of Silence…

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First off, it is colder than hell outside.  And while you may think that’s an obvious (and somewhat stupid) statement – let me just say that for some people (*ahem, me) being cold is a whole lot worse than being hot!  And yeah, I’m in Florida.  No, thankfully it is NOT snowing.  Yet, YES, I am still bitching.  I’m cold when it’s 80, you can bet your fluffy down comforter I’m freezing when it’s 30.

Anyway, I started off saying a first, so let me get to the second.  I’ve finally figured them out.  My kids.  Frighteningly enough, part of the riddle has been solved.  No, really, it’s actually pretty scary.

Oh, and yeah, third.  I’m back.  Again.  I’ve been remiss.   Yada yada… busy, busy.  Life and all that crap.  So, I offer no more empty “I’m back for real and gonna make this a weekly thing” business, because I’m being honest, and I honestly cannot guarantee when I’ll actually write anything.  But I’m writing this, so I’m going to go ahead and be happy with that.

Back to the second.  The boys.  My favorite Monsters.  Holy realization moment.  Kaleb is me.  Mase is totally Daddy.  And while they both have parts of us in some ways (I’ll man up and take blame for the road rage) – it isn’t the same.  Allow me to explain…

I need recognition for things I do well.  No kidding, serious verbal recognition.  I thrive on it.  I will keep doing the things you verbally recognize and appreciate I do.  If you don’t … well.  I tend to stop doing them.  Because I feel like they (and I, by extension) go unnoticed.  I need visual stimulation.  I need to be able to escape from reality though books, music and other such things when I get overwhelmed with life, because otherwise I end up over-thinking everything and my anxiety gets bad enough that I stop functioning like a normal person should.  I require step-by-step instruction when introduced to something new because otherwise I will totally go off book, and let’s be honest – that never ends well.

I don’t respond to hounding or constant reminders – that feels more like a piano hanging over my head by a string than a motivation to remember something.  My memory is lax when it comes to a lot of things because there is almost always something bigger and more imminent looming in the forefront of my mind, even if that particular thing seems small to anyone else.  Threats never work with me, because it isn’t real if it isn’t right there in front of me.

I know, to an extent, how much this sucks for the people in my life who want to convey important things to me.  Because while I can spend hours, days, or weeks consumed with fictional worlds, I cannot genuinely envision my life without the things that are already in it.  I forget simple tasks, silly things people ask me to do for them, things I usually start to do (because they mean a lot to people who mean a lot), and then I get bogged down by other things.  Those big important things that are consuming my thoughts like endless riders on a Merry-Go-Round.  Or I get overwhelmed.  I don’t know what to do first.  I start a million things at once and finish exactly… none.  I let people down constantly.  I let myself down constantly.  Because the minute my mind leaves one topic, another crops up, and the one that is right there is the one that ends up being most important.  I can’t imagine how petty and selfish that must sound to you.

Honestly, it sounds horrible to me, and I’m talking about myself.

But this is me on my most honest level.

***Okay, I know I said before that I need recognition – but not on this.  I’m not looking for validation here.  I’m looking to be brutally honest with myself as a person.  So the first person who tries to offer me an excuse for the behavior I have just admitted to will be promptly showed the door ***

I’ve been like that forever.  Ask my mom.  She could ground me for weeks.  I would shrug and walk away.  What did I care?  But to take my most prized things?  My books, my music… the world would all but collapse as far as I was concerned.  I was actually a decent student. I did my homework.  Every day… but I’d forget to turn it in.  Every day.  I’d forget to put it in my bag.  It wasn’t because there was something else I wanted to do; it was more because I would finish that task and move on to something else that was now a big deal.  But even then…when I’d really get in trouble (and believe me, I totally deserved it when I did.  I was a sh*t), I’d scream, and I’d cry – but to what end?  Did I actually do what I was supposed to have done in the first place?  Eh…. Usually not.  I had the kind of attitude that would send people running for the hills faster than you could say “Call SuperNanny!”

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Kaleb’s like that.  He’s stubborn.   He has a few interests that really encompass him.  And he has a few passing interests, ones he could do without, but they entertain him when all else fails.  He’s got an incredible imagination, and an admirable amount of determination.  Add that to his confidence in himself and his growing skill-set… in 20 years he will be a force nobody will want to reckon with.  But as a child…

I want to go back in time and pick up every hair I must have caused my mother to pull out of her head.

His attention span is exactly that of a dead gnat – unless what he’s looking at involves a book of LEGO instructions, Marvel Superheroes, or something that will piss off his brother.  He forgets to do something about five seconds after you tell him, unless it is either A. written down; B. directly in front of him; or C. beneficial to him in some very literal way.    Everything is a personal attack.  And I do mean everything.  It is your fault he’s screaming, because you told him to use his napkin and he didn’t want to use his napkin, so therefore it is your fault he’s screaming.  See the logic?

That’s the thing.  You have to actually see the logic to understand him.  His world consists of exactly two things, and two things only:  What makes him happy, and What makes him not happy.  I wasn’t quite that bad as a kid.  But, the more I think about how he thinks, the more I understand it.  For Kaleb, everything is immediate.  We can put him in a five minute time-out, but at the end of that five minutes, his mind has wandered all over the place, and he genuinely might not remember why he was in trouble.  Sure he can remember every name of every Spiderman Nemesis – but that is inherently important to him.  At least, it’s a whole lot more important than remembering to use a napkin.

Then again, there are the times he just screams – I mean really, really screams… I think that’s honestly just to make me completely crazy.  Mason had to have taught him that.

I keep asking myself how do I get through to him?

The honest answer is…. I probably won’t.  I probably won’t be the one to do it.  For me, it was a couple of incredible teachers who banned together and changed a great many of my perspectives.  Don’t get me wrong, I was still a total shit when I was at home.  And my mom never stopped trying.  She never gave up on me, or the future she wanted for me.  I was just not ready to listen to her.  At the same time, for once she wasn’t the only one fighting for me.  I worked a bit harder for my future.  I responded to people differently.  I stopped forming so many arguments against my mom in my head and started listening to what she was saying, even though she didn’t know that (and still probably thinks talking to me is the equivalent of talking to a stack of bricks).

But as I pointed out in the beginning of all this – I am in many ways still who I was a kid.  I’m a more grown-up version, sure.  The problems have changed, they’ve gotten bigger, more challenging.  They aren’t just my problems anymore.  They’re the problems of everyone I love and care about.  Myself included.  But it’s sobering to realize as a parent, that there might be a lot more to that old saying about taking a village to raise a child.  Kaleb’s teachers get through to him in times when I can’t.  There are days when they ask me how we handle X, Y, & Z when all I want to do is ask how they got past A & B.

Then, there’s Mase.  Ooooohhhhh The Mase Bug.

It started off as a totally absurd Dora-Inspired nick-name.  The kind of thing that starts because it’s too late for the hospital to do anything but batten down the hatches and tell you to hold on.  An hour later you find yourself face-to-face with this little dude (who may just have the most expressive eyes on Earth), while silently still singing the song Dora sang to help the Mommy Bug-a-bug find her baby bug-a-bug in the episode you fell asleep watching with your toddler.  Or… maybe I wasn’t singing so silently.

Now, I actually think it might be a thingThe Mase Bug.  He’s cute.  He bats those ridiculous eyelashes over those big brown eyes and you want to smoosh his little cheeks.  He says goofy, silly things, and makes absolutely no sense, and you just adore it.  Despite the fact that he’s four, and has a perfectly functional vocabulary he is completely competent in using.

My curious, destructive, charming, deceptively smart boy.  He is his daddy’s clone.  He’s too smart, and too distracted.  By everything and nothing.  He may not being paying attention outwardly, but he is fully tuned in when you think he isn’t.  He wants everything his way, otherwise, well… you can just kiss that cute little butt of his and wish him safe travels – ‘cause he will cease existing in your world the minute you stop making sense in his.  Now, to be fair, both boys are very much like that.  But Kaleb lets you know when you’ve stepped off his planet (usually by screaming that you are wrong).  Mason just checks out.  He won’t return the key – I swear he’s a time travelling Muse for The Eagles.  He’ll check out any time he wants – but he won’t ever leave.

You can sit with him and talk and talk and talk to him until you are rainbow colored.  But unless what you are saying consists of certain key words or phrases, you could be talking ancient Greek.  ‘Cause he is not listening.  He’s thinking about a hundred different other things.  He isn’t building like his big brother.  He’s not dreaming of LEGOs or colored pencils.  He’s thinking about how one car went faster than the other, and he is wondering why.  He’s ripping apart brand new toys just to figure out where things are, where they’d be better suited, and why other things are missing.

He wants to watch me cook, because he wants to figure out what the difference is between a raw egg and a scrambled egg.  Start to finish, he has to understand the entire process or he is not satisfied.  He wants to know why the dome light comes on in the car when the door is opened but turns back off when it’s closed.  He doesn’t just want to know, but needs to know the how and the why.  He wants it faster, louder, and bigger.  And if he has to rip something apart to see what was different inside this toy, versus that toy – he will do it in a heartbeat.

He’s singled minded, and determined.  He’s brilliant, but stubbornly makes everyone show him how to do everything multiple times before he’s satisfied knowing he can do it himself.  He’s loving, but only to certain people at certain times.  He’s distant, but he feels so strongly for those he loves, it’s almost become a defense.   By all accounts – he’s just like Daddy. Smart, sweet, stubborn, with an insatiable curiosity, and a unique, yet disquieting way of viewing the world.

They are us.  Our product.  Both of them.  Beautiful.  Strong.  Stubborn.  Isolated inside a world filled with people that love them, but don’t quite understand them.  Sometimes angry at the hands they’ve been dealt, when they played so much better than everyone else at the table.  Loyal.  Fun.  Joyous.  Intelligent.  Underestimated.  Overestimated.  Such a delirious mix of light and dark.

I forget as a parent (a lot), how I was as a kid.  How singled minded I was.  How absolutely focused I got on the things that interested me.  The things that gave me joy just by doing them on my own.  The things that made me… “Me”.  I’ve become so focused as an adult on making my kids “well rounded” that I forget that a part of becoming an adult is honing those solo interests.  Screaming when you feel like you’re going to explode.  The tantrums and the fights about the fairness of life.  Those things that make me so mad as a parent – I honestly couldn’t count how many of those I put my mom through when I was growing up.  They’re a part of growing up.  You don’t just wake up one day and realize “I’m 4, I should be potty trained.”  Or, “I’m 7, I can tie my shoes.”  Those are things you learn as you go.  Things other people teach you.  Frustration, anger, sadness, confusion – that’s part of life whether you’re a child or an adult.  You only learn how to channel and process those things by watching the adults in your life.

Of course, no matter how much I kicked and screamed I still had to do my math homework – but I was a hell of a lot more prone to do it (and turn it in…) if that meant I got an extra 20 minutes to do something I genuinely enjoyed at the end of the day.  Some days that was watching Gilmore Girls with my mom (Yes, I just did totally out you Mom, sorry).  Some days that was sitting on the kitchen counter picking apples out of the pie mix Nana was making when (I thought) she wasn’t looking.  Or going upstairs and getting lost in a story.  Every day I was a different version of myself.  Some days I wanted companionship, some days I didn’t.  Even as a small child.  That’s an easy thing to forget.

I think maybe it’s time we all take a few minutes to remember ourselves as kids – our HONEST selves.  How we really were, not how we like to think we were, and try to imagine applying it our lives now.

Think about what motivates you now – what motivates your spouse – what motivates your kids…

And I don’t mean money, work, grown up crap.  I said think like a KID. A little kid.  Little kids don’t think about money – at least not in concrete terms.  They think about the abstract.  If you could do one thing at the end of the day for twenty minutes, what would it be?   What about your spouse?  Your kids?  Not a group activity – save that for the weekends or holidays.  Not some sibling activity to force your kids to get along (BTW, if you have one of those I am beyond open to suggestions).  Not something for someone else either.  Be selfish, be abstract.  Think like a child.  Find a true, free, honest reward for surviving the day.

I’d spend twenty minutes writing.  Or doing something to further it.  Research, outlines, whatever – something just for me.  I’d give Daddy twenty minutes of complete he-man time – no phones, no kids, no email, nothing but peace and the understanding that comes with a perfect match of man and machine (just for the record, if this wasn’t an abstract, I’d give him twenty minutes a day flying instead).  I’d give Kaleb 20 minutes of LEGO time.  I’d give Mason twenty minutes to talk about, throw, drive, or destroy any 3 toy vehicles of his choice.

If we all stopped looking at life like a race to be won, a battle to be waged – and started thinking about how to encourage the people next to us to be better, happier versions of themselves, instead of constantly trying to make everyone be like us, think like us, want what we want – just imagine how much better and happier we would all actually be…

Everything Is Awesome…

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So, I’m not going to lie, today’s IEP meeting was…

Freaking AMAZING!

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I am so pumped right now, I can’t even begin to describe it.  This was honestly the best IEP meeting I have ever had, and I could not possibly be happier.  It’s such an awesome relief to finally find a school with teachers and staff who really, genuinely care about my child and his progress.  Going from last year to what he has now is such a huge difference.

First of all – despite the events of the last two weeks, everyone previously agreed that Kaleb hit a bump in the road – but considered it a temporary set-back (one we are actively working on fixing), and they are getting rid of the harness!  I cannot wait to see the look on Kaleb’s face when he hears the news he’s been waiting to hear for months.  Second, he graduated out of OT!  I simply cannot believe it.  He’s been in Occupational Therapy since he was 2.  Now he’s finally met all of his goals, his gross and fine motor skills are up to par, and he’s good to go!  That was so unexpected, it’s still sinking in.

Another piece of awesome news?  Kaleb gets to keep his teacher next year!  He will technically be in first grade, but he will stay in the EBD classroom with the Godsend of a teacher he has now.  I am beyond relieved.  The thought of hashing out next year’s arrangement, dealing with a new teacher who may or may not understand how to work with Kaleb has been haunting my sleep for weeks.  To find out that he doesn’t have to deal with any of that (and neither do I!) is an incredible relief.  And let me just tell you a little something about this teacher, while I’m on the subject.  This is the kind of person who went out of her way to consult with a Gifted teacher (despite the fact that he won’t get the classification until at least next year) to figure out the best ways to challenge Kaleb’s strengths without going too far beyond the scope of what he’s able to handle.  She’s willing to go above and beyond to help him avoid potentially overwhelming situations, without stifling him or making him feel like an outcast.  She’s a freaking gift is what she is, and I’m so glad we get to have another year with her.

We talked about the gifted program (especially when the Gen-Ed teacher was consulting, and was visibly shocked by some of Kaleb’s reading and math abilities).  We hit a bit of a snag because they cannot test until at least a year has passed since the last test.  That wouldn’t be a big deal, except the school psychiatrist that Kaleb has spent the year working with and building a relationship with has gotten a promotion, and they’re bringing in someone new.  So, it was decided that we’d wait until the fall to re-do the test – giving Kaleb an opportunity to make sure he’s got his feet firmly planted under him, and he has a relationship with the new psychologist.  On a plus note, I asked if I could have our Developmental Pediatrician do a test of his own in June when we go for our yearly visit, and they all strongly encouraged it.

And, on top of everything else – the school nurse is willing to go above and beyond the call of duty to administer Kaleb’s mid-day medicine.

Seriously, this school needs to win some “Everything Is Awesome” awards!

So, overall, this was the best IEP meeting ever.  I left feeling happy, a bit lighter, and definitely reassured that my child is in excellent hands day in and day out.  I can honestly say that’s never happened before.  I’ve always left feeling deflated, slightly disappointed, angry, or slightly sick.  This was such a breath of fresh air, and so desperately needed.

I want to say thank you to this school.  Your amazing teachers, support staff, therapists, behavioralists, and administration have taken a load off my mind, improved my child’s life every day, and I truly believe there aren’t enough ways to say thank you for that.

Schooldays…

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Okay, we’re one week into the new year, and my personal resolution for this year (aside from not going insane or turning into Bridezilla – a frightening possibility) is to get at least one post out a week.

I haven’t really been on here in months – to be honest, I haven’t really been on the computer all that much in general.  There’s just been too much stuff happening in our real space for me to jump into cyberspace.  But I’m getting back into it – starting now!

Today is the kids’ first day back to school after a very long winter break.  Really, really long.  Seriously, I am not one of those parents who laments the kids going back to school.  No way.  Bring it on! 

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Give me a couple of hours in the day where I can actually have a phone call without sounding like a schizophrenic.  “I’d like to make an appointment for… No!  Get that out of your mouth now!”  And don’t get me started on food.  It’s a beautiful thing when I can make myself lunch, and actually get to eat it!

Did it suck standing outside for fifteen minutes in freezing cold waiting for Kaleb’s bus?  Um, yes.  Very much so.  But that’s why we wore layers.  Because for the first time in nearly 3 weeks, my house is still quiet at 7am.  There is no screaming, singing, dancing, jumping, pounding, drumming, laughing 6 year old standing at Mason’s gate doing everything in his power to wake up his baby brother.  Mason is actually sleeping in.  He might be a pleasant person today.  For the first time in almost 3 weeks he might actually go a morning without screaming like a banshee and throwing cars all over hell and creation.  I.  Love.  School.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my children with all of my heart.  But boy is it nice to actually drink a cup of coffee in less than six hours.

On the flip side of that, I’ve started to hit the panic button with this wedding planning nonsense.  Who knew there was so much crap involved?!

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The look on poor Daddy’s face when I said “I’m probably about to make you completely insane for the next few months” – well, the look said it all.  At least he’ll be in good company, as I’ve already hopped onto the crazy train.  I’m honestly finding myself stunned at the amount of money people can get away with charging for certain things.  I should have gone to pastry school.  Or hell, I’ll just open up a business making bouquets with silk flowers.  We’ll be rich I tell you!

Okay, enough of that.

Originally, I was going to talk about this whole new bout of Jenny McCarthy madness that has swept up the cybersphere again, but I’m not going to.  The woman gets around enough without me adding to the chaos.  I will say this though – it saddens me to think of how many kids are catching so many easily preventable diseases based on the words of an ex-porn star and a disgraced ex-doctor.  It’s one thing when the beliefs are your own.  It’s another thing when they’re the beliefs of idiots and you’d just rather follow along than look for your own solutions.

Moooooving on…

Seriously, writer’s block.  I’ve got nothin’.

Oh, wait!  Yes I do!

Mason has a new favorite “thing”.  It isn’t a toy (we’re still obsessed with cars, people.  I have no hope of that changing).  We can’t figure out where it came from, but I have to admit, it’s ridiculously cute.  Ready for it?  It’s… “Dot Com!”  Now, just hold on a second and I’ll explain.  That actually is his new thing.  For some unknown reason, he’s following up names now with “Dot Com!”  It’s “Dusty Crophopper… Dot Com!”  and “Milo David… Dot Com!”  And yes, apparently now the dog shares Mason’s middle name since apparently Mason has decreed it so.  It started out with Daddy calling Mason a monkey.  Mason said he wasn’t a monkey.  Kaleb said he’s a person.  Mason said he wasn’t a person.  We asked Mason what he was if he wasn’t a monkey and he wasn’t a person.  He said “I’m a Mason David!”  True enough.  He then went through the house saying “Mommy —– Dot Com!  Kaleb —– Dot Com!  Daddy —– Dot Com!  Mason David Dot Com!  Milo…. David!  Dot Com!”

But it’s not just names.  It other things too.  The garbage truck (Dot Com!), lunch (Dot Com!), diaper (Dot Com!)… all this and more.  He’s definitely a goofy child.  If only we could figure out where on earth he picked this up!  Anyway, as far as updates go – not that much has changed in the world of Monsters.  Daddy has Mason watching Dukes of Hazard and Kaleb watching (more like obsessed with) Tree House Masters.  I got a Doctor Who tee-shirt for Christmas I want to live in.  Daddy got a new workstation.  And Milo is still going insane every single time the neighbor’s dog goes out to pee.

That’s it.  That’s pretty much all I have at the moment.  I probably only have about twenty minutes of quiet left before Mason gets up, so I’m going to go eat something, guzzle another gallon of coffee, and pretend like it’s not ridiculously cold outside (that’ll be the only time I bitch online about the weather today, as at least it’s not snowing, raining ice, or in the negatives).  Have a good week cyberfriends (how many times did I use the word cyber today?).  Till next time!

Overwhelmed…

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So once more, we’ve had a really hectic couple of weeks.  Mason started school (yay!), but for the first week and a half I had to drive him to and fro.  Of course, this was insanely chaotic considering he’s in pre-school.  Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  It was only kind of chaotic.  The problem is, the school pick up lines in this town are INSANE.  I mean seriously, where do all of these people come from??  There’s like five elementary schools in a 10 mile radius of us – and there are that many people picking up their kids in the afternoons at one school?

Yeesh!  I guess the town really is growing.

So, since Mason’s in preschool his day starts at 11:30 (unless it’s early release Wednesday, in which case it’s 11:00.  Speaking of, can someone PLEASE for the love of God tell me what the heck is the point of early release?  Other than to make my life complicated because I forget it every single week?  I legitimately don’t understand why my children get out of school an hour early every Wednesday.).  His day ends at 2:05.  Kaleb’s bus arrives at our house at 2:30.  Mason’s school is a 10 minute drive from here – under good, hit every green light conditions.  I don’t have that kind of luck.  I hit every red light from here to that school every single day.  Even when I take the back roads – which is way worse because those lights take forever to change.  So, call it an even 20 minutes.  Which gives me exactly five minutes to grab Mason, throw him in the car, and rush home to get Kaleb off the bus.

What this means is that I have to be in the front of the ridiculous parent pick up line.

Which means I have to arrive at his school no later than 1pm.

Yep.  I have to get there an hour early in order to pick my kid up from school and have a chance at getting home before Kaleb’s bus.  This is what I call INSANE.  So, for a week and a half I dropped him off and went to hang out with my mom (who legit only lives 10 minutes from the school) for an hour before turning around and going to get the Mini Monster.  Then we’d rush home and wait for Kaleb’s bus.  Finally, Mason got a bus schedule.  They pick him up here at 10:25 (even though the stupid sheet says 10:45) and drop him off at 2:25 (even though the stupid sheet says 2:38).  That’s four whole hours all to myself!  OMG I could do yoga!  I could ride my bike!

I could sit on my couch and watch grown up tv while the sun is still up!  I could eat ice cream in the middle of the day!  I can shower and pee all by myself!  Hell, I could dance around naked!  

Okay, I won’t dance around naked.  First, I don’t dance.  And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t do it naked.  I’d probably hurt myself – and how do you explain that to a paramedic?

But still.  Maybe it sounds horrible of me to be doing happy dances because my little dude is going to school – but if that’s what you’re thinking…. just wait.  Your day will come.  Your kid will get on that bus, and after the initial “I’m going to miss him so much, I hope he’s okay, what will he do without me, what will I do without him” moment, you will walk back into your house, and it’ll hit you.  That moment of I’m alone! I’m really truly alone!  will come.  And I’m willing to bet you consider dancing around naked too.

Anyway, Mason finally started school.  And considering I was able to do yoga in my living room uninterrupted for the first time EVER, I’m going to go ahead and say this is awesome!

Truthfully, over the last few months, life has felt completely non-stop. I haven’t been sleeping, the kids haven’t been sleeping.  Drama and meltdowns everywhere.  This responsibility and that obligation.  I can literally count on one hand how many times in the last three months I’ve even attempted to apply makeup.  Wedding plans (who knew there was SO much crap to think of?!), this kid to that doctor, that kid to that therapist.  IEP meeting for this one, evaluations for that one.  I’d already put my plans to start my own non profit on hold for lack of time.  What it all comes down to is that I was overwhelmed.

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For a while I muddled through – because I couldn’t find a reason to be overwhelmed.  This was my life.  These things have always been here, and odds are they’re going to get a lot worse before they get better.  The meltdowns will get bigger, the responsibilities will only get heavier… so why was I all of a sudden drowning in the things I’ve come to think of as life’s constants?  Then one day it hit me – like the proverbial ton of bricks.  Where the hell was I in all of this?  I was completely lost in the rush of everything and everyone else.  In doing so my family was suffering.  I was miserable.  My relationship was suffering because I wasn’t put the time toward it I needed to.  My kids suffered because mommy was tired and cranky.  Even the dog was suffering.

When was the last time I did something for me?  I couldn’t remember.  I was so busy running around like a lunatic with all the other crap I’d basically neglected all but my most basic needs.  Clearly, something had to give.  So, I swallowed my pride (which I was frankly surprised to find I had so much of) and, despite my extreme hesitancy to do so, I backed out of some pretty big obligations.  In truth, I was terrified to do that.  I put my name on this.  People are counting on me.  This is my reputation.

But what’s a reputation when the whole world is crumbling around your ears?

I’ll tell ya what it’s worth.  Absolutely jack s**t.

I knew there was probably going to be some fall out – I probably put a really good friendship in jeopardy, and I’m feeling the sting of it.  But it was time to do something for myself.  So what did I do?

I planted a freaking garden.

Yes.  You read right.  Me – Captain Black Thumb planted a garden.  I’d wanted to do it for years.  I’ve been muttering and complaining about having to buy fresh herbs at outrageous prices only to have them go to waste because I only needed one sprig for years.  So, I planted a garden.  And it’s doing AMAZING.  As I write this, there’s a chicken in the oven full of my very own thyme and parsley.  I put some more focus on my relationship and am glad every day I did.  I put some more focus on my kids – and I’m still glad every day when they get on the bus!  But more than that, I made myself a goal.  It’s an outrageous and probably impossible goal, but I’m cooking my way toward it one day at a time.  And no, I’m not saying what it is until it becomes a bit more attainable!

So, I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing all this now.  I guess a part of me is upset because I think I really did put a big kink in a friendship that meant a lot to me.  And I’m hoping I’ll get the chance to fix it one of these days.  Another part of me is proud (there it is again) – because I finally took the best piece of advice ever given to me when Kaleb was born:  take time for myself.

Instead of running around at night and trying to catch up on work I couldn’t do during the day, I’m doing the work during the day, instead of a million other things.  And at night?  I’m sitting on the porch, listening to Frank Sinatra and Etta James and reading any book I please for as long as I please.  I’m happier.  I’m happier at the butt-crack of dawn when I get up to get Kaleb on the bus.  I’m happier in the afternoon when I get both boys off their respective busses.  I’m happier after a failure of an IEP meeting.  I’m happier when I’m pulling the kids apart while they try to rip each other’s throats out.  I’m happier watching the same episodes of Little Einsteins over and over again.  I’m happier when my soon-to-be husband is home.  I’m happier.

So, sure I can’t be super mom.  I can’t chair walks and be on the PTA board, and start a non-profit, and run all over hades and back for everyone who asks anything of me.  But what I can do is raise two healthy, happy boys on the spectrum.  I can have a healthy(er) relationship with the love of my life while I plan our wedding.  I can do a better job of getting and staying in touch with the friends and family who have had my back since day one.  I can spend time in my garden and read books.  I can go to pumpkin festivals and blues festivals and enjoy my life.  Because as important as all the other stuff is – my family is the reason I was doing it in the first place.  So why would I do it if it was making my family suffer?

This actually wasn’t as difficult to write as I thought it would be – because I really mean it.  To all of you who told me it was important to take care of me – I digress.  You were right, I was wrong.  And I’ve never been happier to discover how wrong I was.

To all of you out there worn down, weary, and worried about the same crap – all I have to say is…

Stop.

Who is going to take care of everyone else if you’re locked in a padded cell after holding yourself to this ridiculous standard of parenting?  Being involved doesn’t mean doing everything that walks across your path.  It means being sane and stable and happy enough to do the fun stuff.

I’ve got to go pull my (hopefully) delish chicken out of the oven so I can feed my kids and get them off to bed.  Then I’m going to go watch something asinine on television with my love and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

I hope you have as good a night as I’m going to.

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Bug-A-Boo…

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September 21, 2010….

I went into labor.  For approximately one hour and thirty minutes.  We barely made it to the hospital on time – and the poor kid who had the misfortune of working the ER door that night probably wet himself at some point shortly after our arrival.  Sho-Sho was intimidating…. but Mommy was a woman possessed… and you WERE COMING right that very minute, no matter what anyone said.  Of course, Mommy’s big, bad act was kinda stolen from her by your need to have immediate bathroom access.  Oh, well.  It won’t be long before Mommy gets years of practice at yelling at complete strangers – part of that yelling will be on your behalf, by the way.  

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Mason,

Happy Birthday Sweet Bug!

I’ve been trying to write this for a couple of days – but it’s just not easy to list all of the amazing things that make you, you!

I can’t believe you’re three.  I can’t believe you started preschool yesterday.  It seems like two days ago you were a little snug bug who was perfectly content as long as you were in Mommy’s arms.  I can still remember the way you looked at the world around you with such intensity and curiosity.  I just can’t believe you are three – I can’t even wrap my head around you some days.

You entered this world with some serious gusto, and you have taken life on in much the same manner.  Bull by the horns, so to speak.  You are one of a kind, my boy.  Every inch of you – from your head to your toes – from your unwavering love of cars to your hilarious dance routine every time you ask to hear “Radioactive” AKA “Mason’s Song!”.  You bring light, laughter, and joy to everyone who crosses your path.  All it takes is one smile, one giggle and you have the attention  of the whole room.

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You see the world in such a unique way, and it’s such a blessing to be able to look through your eyes.  You have always had this way of studying the things and people around you – I’ve honestly never seen a child so intently observe the world.  Daddy and I love to watch as the gears in your head turn as you observe and figure out the workings of everything you see.

You’re sweet, and smart, and funny, and oh so very entertaining.  I wouldn’t change a thing about you – and I hope you never want to.  You’re a beautiful, exciting, chaotic little boy, and every inch of that is what makes you so wonderful.  I have so many dreams for you, so many things I cannot wait to watch you achieve.  I hope you’ll always be true to who you are.  I hope you’ll always listen to that part of you that is so creative and curious.  I hope you never bring Poopcasso Jr back.  I hope you never flush another dinosaur down the toilet.  I hope you continue to love cooking with Mommy and watching Monster Trucks with Daddy.  I hope you always keep looking up at the world above you, as well as the world around you.  I hope you put that killer arm to use on a baseball or football field and stop pegging me in the head with cars.  I hope you always have a silly streak.  I hope you never let go of the joy you find in simple things.  I hope you stop eating markers, and your brother’s Legos.  I hope you never stop “collecting” memories.  I hope you never lose passion for the things you love.

In short – I hope you always remain exactly who you are – no matter who you grow up to be.

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I cannot wait to see what you do as you grow.  The things you will learn, from everyone and everything in your world, and the way you apply those lessons will surely make an incredible man one day.

For now though, I want to you to stay little.  I want you to remain a child for as long as you can, in a world that forces our children to grow up too quickly.  I want you to pull out your pretend binoculars and look for birds in the sky.  I want you to ride around on your “lawn mower” every Monday morning when the neighbors have their lawns cut.  I want to watch Cars with you over and over again.  I want to chase lizards in the front yard and butterflies in the back.  I want to see your excitement each time you spot the moon.  I want to see your face light up when someone gives you a “ring pop ring”, or when an emergency vehicle drives by.

Be good to your brother.  He’s the only one you have – and while you two have your ups and downs, you should always remember to be there for each other.  You will make each other crazy, but at the end of the day, you will always have one another.

And no matter what – always, always remember that Mommy and Daddy love you.  We want the best for you – we want the world for you.  And we will do whatever we can to make sure you have the best life we can provide.

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You are one incredible little boy.  I love you.  I’m so crazy proud of you.

Okay, I guess I’m done now – you can stop yelling at me, I’m coming to watch Cars right now.

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The Wheels on the Bus…

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I’m baaaaaack!

Kinda.  There’s no guarantee on that until Mason starts school in a little less than two weeks.  But still.  I’m back for now.  I’ve been meaning to write about Kaleb’s new school for a while now (actually, I have written about Kaleb’s new school – and a million other things – you should see the list of drafts in my folder!).  Today though, I’m not writing about the school.  Well not much.  Just to say this:  I REALLY like his new school.  And I REALLY like his new teacher.  She’s tough, but she’s compassionate, and I think we made the right decision in pairing them together.  On an overall scale I am exceptionally pleased at how it’s turned out.

Transportation though?  That’s a whole different ball game.

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Allow me to give you a little bit of insight into our history with the Transportation department for our county’s public schools.

When Kaleb was three he started going to School A.  He went five days a week from 11-2.  That first year I drove him back and forth – which was a pain for many reasons.  First, our car does not get good city mileage, and his school was a good 7 miles from our house.  In this town, that’s a minimum 15 minute commute if you don’t hit any lights (and I’m cursed, so I always hit the lights).  Second, Mason was an infant – and it was always a nightmare to try and juggle Kaleb’s drop off and pick up times with Mason’s nap schedule (which was WAY important!).  Third, Kaleb really wanted to ride the bus for some reason – but this is one mommy who wasn’t immediately cool with the idea of my baby getting on a bus and being driven around this touristy town by a stranger.

His second year at School A I finally caved and allowed him to ride the bus – for everyone’s sake.  The bus would pick him up at the end of the street around 10:30 and drop him off at the end of the street at 2:30.  This was mostly fine and dandy, save for the whole “end of the street” part.  Kaleb isn’t the most observant child in the world when it comes to his surroundings.  Now, he’ll pick up on every tiny nuance that the grownups around him don’t want him to notice – but a car coming down the road at him?  Not so much.  Turns out, at that point, his running into traffic was the least of our worries.  One morning Kaleb was having a rough time pulling himself together, and it was one of those I really hope he calms down before school days.

Not that he actually made it to school.  The bus got two minutes down the road and I got a phone call informing me I had to come get him off the bus.  I’m still not 100% on what happened to set Kaleb off – but what was very obvious, was that Kaleb had a total meltdown.  In the process of this, he got out of his seat and kicked his bus aid in the back – sending her to the E.R. and placing her on medical leave for about a month with a spinal injury.  Kaleb was 3 years old.  We called an IEP meeting and began to implement a harness on the bus – for his safety and the safety of everyone else on the bus.

Of course, shortly after this, Kaleb was transferred to the full day program.  Because we did not want to transfer him from School A to School B in the middle of the year, we got a variance and kept him at School A until the end of the year.  Now the real fun begins.  Because we have a variance, the bus will no longer come to our street – let alone our neighborhood.  Nope.  For the following half of the year I had to pack up little Mason, hustle both boys in the car, and every morning drive Kaleb two miles away from our house to wait at a bus stop in another neighborhood.  At 6:30am.  Pain in the butt?  Absolutely.  Did I consider just driving him each day?  Absolutely.  But when it came right down to it – the total fifteen minutes in the morning it took for us to get to the stop, get Kaleb on the bus, and get home was still better than the cash we’d spend in gas driving back and forth to the school.  Even if it was at the crack of dawn.

So, enter year 3.  Now Kaleb is officially in the full-day Preschool program.  One more year until Kindergarten (his birthday is past the deadline to start kindergarten at 5).  So, on to School B.  You already know all about School B.  More than 17 suspensions in three months time.  Constant battles over IEPs, Testing, etc.  School B was a nightmare of epic proportions.  But it all started with Transportation.  We were back to Kaleb getting picked up at the end of the street.  Better than two miles away?  Duh.  But still highly dangerous.  Not to mention the added level of danger with having soon-to-be two year old Mason out on a main road when he’s OBSESSED with chasing cars.  Yes, you read that right.  My dog chases his shadow – my kid chases cars.  We’re definitely abnormal around here.

For the first few weeks the bus is stopping at the curb.  Once the bus driver realizes that there is heavy traffic on the road he started to turn down our road and stopped in front of a house at the end of the street.  Every day when he would pick up Kaleb and drop him off, he’d drive right past our house.  Aside from the fact that we were still way too close to the main road for my comfort, now they were driving right past the house!  I was getting more and more frustrated each day – as Kaleb got more daring each day and was darting further into the road.  And I’ll say it again for good measure – they were driving right past our house!

So, we call a meeting, where I request to have the transportation altered to pick him up at the house.  For his safety, Mason’s safety, and just plain common sense.  After a 45 minute meeting, I am informed that Kaleb does not have a “physical disability” so therefore they refuse to offer him curbside service.  Are you kidding me?  Being unable to control himself when he gets overwhelmed or overstimulated and running into traffic despite my best efforts to prevent him is not considered a physical disability to you people?  Oh no.  According to the Transportation department the safety of the child at the bus stop is not their concern – it is a concern for the parent, and is therefore the parent’s problem.

These are the people who my child depends on for safe transport to and from school?  Jeez, he’d find more compassion on a Brooklyn subway car.  I wanted to stand up and yell at the guy.  All I could think was “Have you ever had to chase down a 4 foot tall 50lb autistic child with Hulk-like strength tendencies while keeping a grip on a 2 year old who wanted to chase the same car that was in danger of running down the first child?  No?  You should try it sometime.  Take it from me – it’s no picnic.  Hell, it’s nearly impossible.”  I didn’t yell (I might have said some of the above though).  I kept my temper.  I didn’t even cry.

Instead, naturally, I did what any other parent in their right mind would do.  I left the school, came home, ranted, raved, yelled at the sky, and finally it hit me.  They said I need to have some form of doctor’s note that coincides with my belief that he has a physical disability.  Well, it just so happens we had an appointment with his neurologist due to long suspected seizures coming up pretty soon.  So for the next week I held my tongue and bid my time.  When we got to the neurologist’s office I explained the situation, and found that he was in complete agreement with me.  This arrangement was dangerous and it would not do.  So, he gave me the note I requested, and then did one better – he informed me that if anyone at the next meeting gave me so much as an ounce of trouble about it, to call him on the phone while in the meeting – inform his secretary who I was and why I was calling, and he would immediately answer and make sure they understood in no uncertain terms that things could not keep going the way they were going.

Two weeks and another (of course, this turned out to be just the first few of MANY) IEP meeting later, Kaleb had curbside pick up and drop off.  Now, I had mixed feelings about Kaleb’s bus driver.  I liked the aid plenty, but the driver himself I was on the fence about most of the year.  He was nice enough – but it didn’t take long for me to realize he was pretty short on patience.  But, by the end of the year, I had bigger things to worry about, so that got shoved to the bottom of my list of worries.

At the last meeting we held last school year, the one that decided what school Kaleb would be moving on to (School C), my first question was about his transportation.  I wanted to make sure he held on to his curbside service, as I didn’t want to be dealing with the mess again next year.  I was assured that his transportation wouldn’t change.  Wrong.  Sigh…

When I was given the information for Kaleb’s bus schedule at the beginning of the school year I was sincerely angry.  After everything we had gone through last year, couldn’t we just once catch a break?  Please??

I call Transportation, who calls the school.  Now, on this, I really have to give a hand to the Assistant Principal of School C.  He jumped right on it – calling to let me know that he had spoken to transportation and would do everything he could to fix the problem.  Ummm… what?  You’re going to help me??  Really?  Really really?  Am I being punked?  I mean seriously, I’ve become a bit jaded toward public school administration after the last year.  Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do.  Somehow somewhere some line got crossed and his curbside service was trumped by a special stop (meaning the house at the end of the street).  UGGGHHHHHH.  How did that even happen?  He explained to me (I kept my frustration in check seeing as how I actually liked the guy, and appreciated his willingness to help), and I requested another IEP with Transportation to get this straightened out.

That was about three weeks ago, and I still hadn’t heard from the facilitator.  However, I had actually decided to let it go – for two reasons.  The first, there are actually a group of kids at our bus stop now.  They’re all Kaleb’s age, and he really enjoys playing with them each morning.  They go to a different school (the one we’re actually zoned for, but doesn’t have any ESE or gifted classes), but their buses come around the same time, so it’s something Kaleb looks forward to.  Not to mention, we’ve been in this house for five years – and in all that time, I’ve only met one of my neighbors (and they do not like me at all).  I enjoyed having adult conversations for a few minutes each morning with people who actually live on our street.

Second, Mason starts school in 9 days.  He will be in the afternoon class at School A, just like his brother.  While I’d be willing to drive him, he’s in love with the idea of riding the bus.  So, his afternoon bus will drop him off at the same corner as Kaleb at the same time.  I certainly can’t have one child being dropped off in one spot, and another somewhere else.  So, it would just be easier to have them both dropped off at the corner.  Daddy and I were both pleased with this solution, and were willing to drop the whole issue.

Until Thursday.  I was informed Wednesday morning by Kaleb’s bus driver that there was going to be a new driver on the route, so that was her last day.  A part of me was sad about this – change is hard for Kaleb, and that didn’t give me a lot of prep time.  However, this particular bus duo had refused to put Kaleb in his harness during the first few weeks of school, and as a direct result he freaks out whenever they put him in it.  Is he getting too big for the harness?  Maybe.  But I don’t appreciate a bus driver who has only known my child a couple of weeks suggesting I call a meeting and remove the harness from his IEP because she doesn’t like having to put him in it.  That particular piece of equipment is there for the safety of EVERYONE – and above all else, the safety of my child.  He may not like it – but if my now 62lb five year old has a meltdown on that bus, there’s no way to know what kind of harm he can cause.

Anyway, we get up Thursday morning like usual.  We leave at 7am to walk to the bus – now, our normal stop time is supposed to be 7:15 but she was consistently late, so Kaleb usually got about 30 minutes to play with his new friends.  His bus ALWAYS came before the other kids’ bus.  Not yesterday.  Yesterday the other kids all get on the bus and we’re still waiting.  Mason is all over the place, Kaleb is getting really antsy, and I’m starting to get worried myself.  By 7:35 I’m calling the dispatcher at Transportation, asking if something is going on.  We’ve been out there since 7am – that bus should not be anywhere near our house before 7:10, but you never know.

After sitting on hold for 8 minutes I’m getting agitated (come on, really?  I gave you the route number, how does it take this long to radio the driver?).  Until she gets on the phone and tells me he’s not listed on that route.  Ummm come again?  He’s been picked up by this bus every day since school started – how could he NOT be on the list?  Two minutes later she’s found him – his bus route has been COMPLETELY changed.  His route number is now ###, the bus will be coming at 6:45 instead of 7:20.  What the hell?

So, let me get this straight.  Someone in Transportation deemed it not only acceptable, but wise to alter my 5 year old’s bus route so he has to wake up almost a full hour earlier, memorize a new route number, and nobody thought to tell me???? 

For the second time in a month I look around and wonder if I’m on Candid Camera right now… if so, there are going to be a lot of bleep! noises.  I grab the kids and we race back to the house, where I basically chuck Mason at Daddy, throw Kaleb in the car and race off to the school so Kaleb isn’t late.  Of course, it was only as I was en route that I realized not only did I forget his smoothie money, I’m in my freaking pajamas!  Ohhhhh man.  Pajamas are cool for a bus stop.  They are not acceptable attire for the PTA driven mom-tropolis of your child’s elementary school.  Crap.

I get Kaleb to school on time (barely).  I explain what happened to his teacher – who was just as confused as I was as she’d had two other children switched to Kaleb’s old bus route, but had gotten no notification of Kaleb’s route changing (I’m not the only one being kept in the dark here).  I then rush out of there with my baseball hat hiding my tomato colored face of shame as I’m openly gaped at by a bunch of super moms (I know I should not care – but really, of course I do.  Eventually I’m going to have to interact with these women, and I’d prefer not to be known as the one who shows up in jammies).

The rest of the day is normal – as normal as we get anyway.  Then I get a phone call about five after two.  Kaleb missed his bus – because he made a big mess and his teacher made him stay to clean it up (I don’t care that this slightly inconvenienced me – I love this lady!  Way to stick to your guns!) – so she’ll call me when he has cleaned his mess so I can come get him.  The whole drive home from the school I discuss with Kaleb what it’s going to mean to have a new bus.  It’ll be a different bus, a different number (he quickly memorizes it), a different driver, and a different time.  We’re going to have to get up super early so he doesn’t miss his bus.

In the end our conversation doesn’t really matter.  We get up Friday morning, both of us dragging (I know it’s ridiculous, but that 50 minute difference in wake up times is a bitch).  Kaleb is in a wretched mood.  Bad enough that I stick a note in his folder trying to give his teacher fair warning that he’s exhausted and crotchety.  We eventually get out of the house around 6:35 (the walk to the end of the street only takes two minutes).  We stand outside chit-chatting for about two minutes before the bus comes around the corner.  Already I’ve noticed a few things I don’t like about this new arrangement.  First, it’s crazy early for a five year old with sleep issues.  Second, it’s crazy early for a mommy with sleep issues.  Third, it’s DARK outside.  And if it’s THIS dark in September, just think about how dark it’s going to be in December.  But, I grin and bear it, because that’s what we do.

Then the real trouble arrives.  The bus gets to the stop, and instead of stopping about 30 yards from the corner where it has been stopping all year – it turns down our road and stops at the first driveway.  Already this has got Kaleb in a tizzy.  He’s tired, he’s miserable, and the bus is doing it wrong!  I remind him that it is Fun Friday at school, and if he misses the bus he’ll be missing that – and he’ll spend the day cleaning his pigsty of a room instead.  Well – that at least gets him to walk up to the bus.  The doors open, and for a split second we are both so stunned we freeze.  Then I glance at Kaleb and I see the change happen right before my eyes.  Oh no.  This is going to be big, and very, very BAD.  

Have you figured out who is driving Kaleb’s new bus yet?  That’s right.  The driver from last year.  From School B.  Where Kaleb had what I hope will forever remain as the absolute worst academic year in his history.  I see it on his face the minute the thought hits him.  He thinks we’re making him go back to School B.  At this point my heart is automatically broken for my kid.  But we can’t just up and walk away from this.  We have to push through it, no matter how miserable it is.  He immediately reacts.  He starts crying and screaming, so distraught I don’t know how I’m going to get through to him.  “This isn’t where I belong mommy!  This is wrong!  That’s not my bus!  I don’t belong on that bus!”

He’s so completely upset about this I want to take him back home and curl up on the couch with him until he’s better.  This just sucks.  But I can’t do that – I can’t set a precedent like that.  He has to get on the bus, he has to conquer this and get to school.  I pick him up off the ground and start to maneuver him onto the bus – no easy feat when there’s 60lbs of uncontrollable muscle fighting me with everything he’s got.  Twice I think I’m about to go flying backwards, I can just see my head smacking into the pavement when I land.  Luckily, I’ve got just enough strength on him and I manage to get him up on the bus.  From there, it takes fifteen minutes for myself, the bus driver, and the aid to get Kaleb into his harness and buckled in properly.  About halfway through the struggle to get him strapped in, I’m wrestling him like a pro and he’s screaming that he doesn’t belong on this bus – the bus driver pipes up.  Wanna know what he said?  To my autistic five year old who is currently under the misconception that he is going back to a place he deems very, very bad, and in complete meltdown mode?  “Well I didn’t want to be here either, but they made me.”

WHAAAAT??? Did you really just say that?  Really??

If I hadn’t had my hands full of Kaleb at that moment, I might have had my hands full of bus driver.

Instead, I tuck it away for later, and finish getting my kid safely buckled into his seat.  Eventually we manage to get him properly strapped – and I step off the bus.  I watch as they drive away and Kaleb is kicking his shoes off screaming like a lunatic.  My first course of action is to grab my coffee cup off the ground – which is when I realized how badly I was shaking due to the coffee I was spilling on my foot.  My second is to call a friend and vent all of the pent up aggression I’ve managed to accumulate in the last twenty minutes.  Then I call Kaleb’s teacher.  The odds of this day ending badly are high, and she needs to know that he’ll be running with a hair trigger today.  She also needs to understand just why this was such a traumatic event for my Monster.

I’m simply floored by this latest little incident.  Someone took Kaleb’s previous driver and swapped her route with this driver – and I want to know why.  I called the school and requested an IEP meeting to discuss this development.  If they’re going to be picking Kaleb up at the crack of dawn he is no longer going to be able to enjoy his new little friends in the morning – which means I want the curbside pickup reinstated.  I briefly toyed with the idea of driving him in the mornings, but immediately dismissed it.  First, he likes the bus, that would be unfair to him.  Second, Mason’s going to be in the afternoon class when he starts school.  Meaning, we have to start keeping him up later and having him sleep in longer in order to avoid him being a tired and miserable terror by the time he gets to school.  In order for me to drive Kaleb every day I’d have to have both kids up and awake by 7:20am – a full hour and forty minutes before I want Mason to be waking up.  That just won’t work.

So, I leave a message with transportation (I’m basically on a first name basis with this woman by now – she has to be getting tired of me), requesting a call back to discuss the latest development.  Hopefully I’ll hear back on Monday.  Now I have to go find some more caffeine and make some breakfast – which I’m sure Kaleb won’t be eating since he snuck into the fridge this morning while everyone was still asleep and stole my entire banana cream pie (along with two mini chocolate cream pies).  Apparently he figured out that Daddy put locks on all of the cabinets containing food yesterday.  I don’t suppose I’ll be making any more deserts that require refrigeration.  At least he didn’t find my ice cream cones.

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Food, Glorious Food…

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Kaleb has become a midnight snack thief.

This has been going on for about a month now, and it’s going to make us crazy.  I’m not talking about a little light nibble here and there either.  I’m talking about the half a box of donuts left over from breakfast stolen off the kitchen counter.  Snack containers full of teddy grahms and Chips Ahoy! taken from his grandmother’s kitchen window sill (none of us know how he reached them).  More donuts.  An entire package of birthday cake oreos stolen from his great-grandmother’s kitchen.  Boxes of fruit snacks that were hidden on the tallest shelf in a snack cabinet (don’t know how he got those either).  An entire container of chocolate covered marshmallow cookies (btw, can we say gross??).  Ritz Bitz taken out of Mason’s backpack.  Lollypops snuck from the bathroom (they were being used to unsuccessfully bribe Mason to sit on the toilet).  A gumball machine full of M&M’s also used in the game of Let’s Bribe Mason to Pee!

And the night before last, after Daddy and I each only got one small square before bed, Kaleb stole an entire tray of brownies.

First of all, don’t judge me.  I realize this is a lot of junk food – but the truth is, we usually only keep one dessert like item in the house at a time unless it’s sugar free or healthy in some way.  This does not include my secret candy cabinet (it took Daddy forever to figure out how I kept magically appearing with a Snicker’s bar in my hand) – but that’s for the grown-ups.  More so, that’s for me.  After having Mason my blood sugar tends to plummet randomly, so I keep secret sugar stashes.  But in reality, the kids eat a whole lot more fruits and veggies (thank goodness, because they are complete nightmares when it comes to feeding them meat) than they do junk.  Which makes the secret snacking that much worse.

I know that Kaleb’s meds have been known to increase his appetite, and I have never hesitated to feed the kid when he’s hungry (unless it’s right before dinner – in which case he can wait the twenty minutes).  But I’m completely worried about what this is going to do to his blood sugar levels.  I can just see it now – when he goes in for his blood work in two months and his doctor tears my head off over the amount of sugar Kaleb has been ingesting.

I have no idea what to do about this.  I’ve cleaned out the kids snack cabinet.  If I have to get a padlock and lock up all the snacks at night I will.  Because this has just gone too far.  When he took the lollypops he managed to stash half the bag before he was caught – for two days we found him and his brother with empty lollypop sticks all around (at least he was sharing, right?).  When I found the brownies yesterday morning I didn’t know whether I should scream or cry.

The first thing I did after getting Mason up yesterday morning was head to the kitchen – where the first thing I noticed was my missing brownies.  I’m not really a junk food junkie (okay, that’s kind of a lie.  Offer me a double quarter pounder and fries and I’ll take it over a salad in a heartbeat.), but still.  Don’t mess with my brownies.  It’s right up there with eating the last piece of cheesecake and attempting to even touch my Carvel ice cream cake (seriously.  I will do harm.).  Unless I offer to share with you, the only exception to this is Daddy – and even that’s not a guarantee since there have been times when I’ve looked at him with the promise of horrible things to come if he touches that piece of cake.

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So, I immediately go on a brownie hunt.  the first thing I do is check the fridge, in case for some unknown reason Daddy stuck them in there (I have no idea why, but just go with it).  It’s not there.  Now I pretty much know Kaleb took them, but I’m not going to say anything to him until I have proof – on the slight chance he didn’t and it’s some cruel joke the universe (aka Daddy) is playing on me.  Plus, I really don’t want it to be Kaleb.  He hasn’t snuck anything in almost a week since I told him that from now on each time I caught him sneaking food he was losing a day of snacks and treats – he could have breakfast, lunch, dinner, and veggies to munch on.  But no fruit snacks, no crackers, etc.

I walk into his room and it’s decimated – like Thor came crashing down from the heavens into Kaleb’s closet and went a little hammer crazy.  I’m actually stunned.  Every book is on the floor.  The curtain has been ripped off the dowel.  The sheets are ripped off the bed.  The drawers are pulled out of the night stand.  The lamp is dangling by it’s cord.  My mind can’t even process the destruction.  I don’t even know where to start looking for the brownies.  I tried to step in the closet, but there was no way to do it without clearing a path.  My first thought is “booby-trap” Goonies style.  My second thought is misdirection.  There’s no good spot for him to sit and scarf a tray of brownies.  So I move on.  After tossing the room, I eventually find the brownies hidden under the bean bag chair.  And they’re just as decimated as the bedroom.

Which is so much worse.

After coming to grips with my lost chocolatey heaven, I sat Kaleb down and informed him that he would be cleaning that room today, no excuses, whining, screaming, throwing, hitting, or door slamming about it.

That was at 8am yesterday morning.  It’s now nearly 10am today and his room is worse than it was yesterday morning, and he was in there basically all day “cleaning”.

Of course, what makes this all so much better is that within the same week I both crashed the car, and slammed the back hatch of the car on my phone – thus completely destroying the screen on a phone that is only 37 days old.

I would stuff my face with brownies in an effort to drown my sorrows – but I can’t.  Because my five year old stole them.