The Many Uses of Lindor Truffles

Use #101:  Nebulizer Bribe


Before chocolate:

After chocolate:

If You Give a "Tween" Boy Axe Body Spray....

.....  He's going to attempt to use the entire can in one day.


We have a joke in our house based off the If You Give a Mouse a Cookie books.  The kids, Shawn and I can be heard saying things like, "If you give a toddler chocolate, he's going to want the entire chocolate drawer."  A few others include:

"If you give a mommy a donut pan, the family is going to expect fresh donuts every morning."

"If you give a daddy a new computer toy, don't expect to see him for several days."

Anyway, you get the idea.


I would like to take this opportunity to thank Santa (Wait a minute....  That's ME!  Ohhhh.....) for packing Noah's stocking full of Axe body spray, deodorant, shampoo, hair gel, and body wash.  Noah smells great and the house doesn't smell too bad either.....


*cough*  *cough*

'Tis Better to Give than to Receive

A few weeks ago, Avery took a liking to baby doll in the toy store.  He put that baby in a toy grocery cart and pushed it all over the store.  When we left the store, he gave the baby kisses, waved goodbye and told the baby he'd be back soon.  My little boy loves nothing more than to push his own grocery cart around our house with one of his many lovies in it, telling us that he's shopping with his baby.  It's really way too adorable.

Knowing that Avery would love nothing more than to open that baby doll Christmas morning, but also knowing my husband would um, well, have a slight cow if I gave our son a doll, I did what any other desperate mom would do.

I called one of my best friends.

Sharon is hippie free loving tree hugger (I say that with love!) and can get away with things like giving a doll to our son, because Shawn and I think the world of her.  There's no way Shawn would ever argue with her!  Sharon also thinks the world of my boys (God bless her), filling many of the roles left vacant by our absent families.  Besides, she would've paid money to see the look on Shawn's face when Avery opened it!

This morning, Avery got his beloved doll.  He has rocked his baby (dubbed "Moonbeam," just to make my husband grin, cringe and shake his head even more, of course!), fed his baby, snuggled with his baby, played This Little Piggy with his baby, given up one of his blankies for his baby, and tonight at bedtime, I heard him singing to his baby in his crib.  Avery has repeatedly told us, "I'm a good daddy!" because that's what we've been telling him throughout the day.

Sharon gave Avery his doll and made his day, but she gave our family so much more than just that.  She gave my mother and grandmother smiles and laughter from the pictures and stories I texted to them all day.  She gave me a warmer heart than I've had in months, laughing through tears as my youngest son loved on his little baby.  She's teaching Shawn to relax and let go, that it's okay for little boys to pretend to be daddies.  In watching Avery play with his baby, Sharon reminded us that maybe we're not doing so bad as his parents after all.  She filled our home with love and warmth, as well as a reminder of what this day is really about:  A baby sent to save the world.

And what did Sharon get out of this?  She got the joy of being Santa to our little boy, the gift of knowing that at least for one day, all was well in our world because of one little doll.  As I texted her the first story of Avery opening his doll, exclaiming, "Oh!  Oh!  My baby!  My baby!" today, she told me that I'd made her day and she was all choked up.  All I could think was "I've made her day?!"

In this day and age of the Me Generation, it's nice to know there are still some of us who remember it is always better to give than to receive.  It's comforting to know that not just me, but my entire family, is surrounded by my friends who love all of us, and we surround them and their families, loving them right back.

Christmas Memories

These days, I really don't have many fond memories of my dad, as most of them are overshadowed by the recent years' issues.  I do have one memory however, that never fails to make me laugh out loud to this day.

MANY years ago, my nieces (who are now *gulp* 22 and 21) were part of our county's Head Start program.  They held their annual county-wide Christmas party at the local armory, which was filled wall-to-wall with screaming, excited children that day.  They were thrilled and beyond themselves:  Santa was coming and he was bringing gifts for each good little boy and good little girl (many of the families who are eligible for the Head Start program are low-income, so this program provided a few nice gifts for each child)!!!

Well, Santa showed up drunk.  Yep.  Only in our county!

The extremely formidable woman in charge (a woman I wouldn't choose to tangle with), grabbed the oldest gentleman she could find and said, "YOU!  Come with me!  You're putting on the Santa suit!"

That gentleman happened to be my father.  I can still picture him pointing to himself, laughing in his unsure-way and debating whether or not to try to argue with this woman.  Needless to say, he decided against trying to decline her offer that was more like an order given by the general, and followed her.

Now, you have to understand--to put this in perspective--my dad is more introverted than I am (if that's possible....).  He is socially awkward and emotionally distant.  Unless he has a few drinks in him himself, he is usually rather reserved.  He was USMC for nearly 20 years and had no idea how to raise children, much less how to act around them.  Being Santa would truly be a mettle-testing task! 

Somehow, Dad managed to pull it off, coming out of the back room with a jolly "HO HO HO!" to greet the children.  He managed to endure every crying, exhausted, over-excited, snot-filled child sitting on his lap while taking cues from the Formidable Woman and other teachers, handing out gifts and spreading Christmas cheer.  I'm not sure if my nieces or nephew (who was much younger) ever realized Santa was actually Grampy, but I don't think it matters now.  I will not be the one to spoil the memory for them!


And that's how my dad saved the Head Start Christmas party.

In the spirit of the season, Merry Christmas to all!  May this be a time of great blessings, miracles, love, hope and peace.  Merry Christmas and God bless!

Happy Birthday to Shawn, I Mean, ME!

My husband has always had the ability to make me laugh.

Today is my 35th birthday.  As I've said before, I love being in the kitchen.  And, as I've also said before, Shawn (and the boys) love it when I've spent some time in the kitchen!  The way to my heart truly is with kitchen appliances.  And the way to Shawn's heart is with food created with those kitchen appliances!

So this year, Shawn has gifted me with a donut pan and cookbook.  Or has his gifted himself with fresh, homemade donuts?!


Guess I better get in the kitchen and get to work!

Back to Square One

Shawn has recently decided to move Noah back to public school in January.  He has begun the process of withdrawing Noah from LUOA and reenrolling him into the public school we are zoned for.  Yes, the one I have fought so hard to keep him out of.  While Shawn is the one taking charge in this situation, we did make the decision together, as a couple.  I can't say I'm thrilled about the move, but I know that things cannot continue the way they have.  This is not a decision we have made lightly or quickly.  It's been a topic of conversation (and contention) in our home for several weeks.  Shawn is the one who has finally said enough is enough.

Our house--I hesitate to call it a home anymore--has become the center of turmoil, constant arguing and tension.  It has turned into a battle zone.  We all feel as though we are walking on tight-ropes thousands of feet above burning coals.  I hesitate to call those of us who live in this house a family anymore.  We are struggling, overwhelmed and exhausted.  Our relationships with each other are strained, to say the least.  Our family is falling apart and my marriage is a wreck.  I am frustrated beyond the point of frustration, and I am out of control.

I took Avery for his well check last week and while we were there, our pediatrician asked how Noah is doing.  I burst into tears and unloaded on the poor woman.  In her usual no-nonsense but compassionate manner, she told me that as parents--as moms--we can't concentrate all of our efforts, our resources and time on one child.  That is what I've been doing, to the point in which all of us suffer.  It's not healthy for any of us.

I have made efforts to keep Noah out of this public school since his kindergarten year.  I have tried to protect him at every turn, trying to foresee things before they happen.  I can't do it anymore.  We are back at square one: returning him to this school because I have only succeeded in making things worse, not better, and exhausting myself.  There is nothing left of me. Even though I know this is the best scenario in what feels like an impossible situation, I feel as though we are feeding him to the wolves.  We are tossing him into the middle of the school year without benefit of preparing the teacher, without an IEP or anything else to help him, support him or protect him.

I feel tremendous guilt over our decision.  Instead of telling myself that I've done the best I can, I see this as a major maternal failure--yet another one in the long list of them.  I am unable to look at this as a learning experience.  I have not only failed at homeschooling, I have failed my son.  I couldn't do what I felt is best for him.  I know I took on too much, especially this year.  I know I needed more of a break and more support.  I know I did it all wrong.  In the beginning, I was proud of my efforts.  I felt I was doing the right thing for Noah. Now I don't think I did the right thing for any of us. I feel selfish for wanting to be able to do things without Noah, instead of continuing to concentrate all my efforts on teaching him, both academically and socially.  Motherhood is about sacrifice, right?

Shawn and I can only help Noah so much.  He has to be ready--and willing--to meet us in the lessons we are trying to teach him.  We are desperate for that lightbulb moment when Noah says, "Oohhh.  Now I get it."  Instead, Noah has manipulated us and taken advantage of the homeschooling situation.  His behavior has regressed and he has stopped taking his schoolwork seriously.  Noah doesn't take me seriously as his mom or as his teacher.  Having him home all the time is suffocating me.

I know that returning Noah to public school will not solve our problems.  I know that, most likely, it will only create new, different problems.  I rationalize his return by saying I will get a break from him during the day and therefore be better able to deal with him in the afternoon and evening.  We all need time to regroup, decompress and heal.  There are things Shawn and I need to deal with, things we have avoided and need to grieve.  We need to repair our marriage and our family.  We all need to take a deep breath and learn to relax.

My friends tell me I'm doing the right thing.  They have watched me fall apart over the past several months.  They have watched our family begin to fall apart.  They have done everything they can to support us and help us limp along.  They agree with Shawn:  Enough is enough.  They tell me I've done the best I can.

If I'm doing the right thing and I've done the best I can, why does it feel as though I'm giving up on my son?

Kids Don't Come With Instructions

These days, everything comes with some sort of how-to manual or instructions.  From shampoo and mouthwash to cars and kitchen appliances, we are told exactly how to use the product.  Me, I appreciate those clear, concise directions.  I research things to death and when I finally make my purchase, I usually peruse the instruction manual.  Unless it's shampoo or mouthwash.

Well, if you're a parent, you already know what I learned almost 11 years ago:  Children don't come with instructions.  Trust me, when Noah arrived on the scene, I looked high and low for that darn booklet, but it was nowhere to be found.  Sure, plenty of self-appointed experts have written books concentrating on how to raise a great kid in three days, but there are no hard and fast rules that apply to childrearing in general, other than the obvious safety issues, and dos and don'ts.

I've also found there aren't really any books on raising children on the autism spectrum.  There are tons of books about autism, about parents who have survived raising children with autism and other various topics concerning autism.  Again though, no hard and fast rules.  

Not only is Noah on the autism spectrum, he is smack dab in the middle of the childhood spectrum.  In other words, no two children are alike.  What works great for one kid might not work so well for the next one.   Noah has seemed to bunk the system from day one.  He fits the typical child mold, but he is "Aspy enough" that he doesn't.  He fits the typical Asperger mold (if there is such a thing), but he's "neurotypical enough" that he doesn't.  Yes, I know that's confusing.  I suppose what I'm saying is there really aren't any how-to books for Noah.   I devoured various pregnancy books while I was pregnant, and over the years since then, I've continued to read just about anything I can get my hands on that will not only explain my son to me, but tell me what to do with him and how to raise him.  I have yet to find any such book.

Shawn and I were not prepared for life with Noah, and truth be told, we weren't even sure we really wanted to be parents yet when we found out we were pregnant.  It's been a long, hard road and we've made mistake after mistake.  I know some parents jokingly refer to their first child as the practice child, or the experimental child.  That's kind of what life with Noah is like:  One gigantic experiment after another.  I pray for the day we finally get something right.

I like to be in control, which I suppose is one reason I like instruction manuals.  Knowledge is power, right?  I'm not a power-trip type, but I do like to know what is going on.  As Noah's mom, I feel anything but in control.  I don't like unknowns, I don't like feeling out of control and I have a plan for everything.  I will tell you right now (again, if you're a parent, you already know this):  Nothing in childrearing goes according to plan.  In our house, about the only things we can really plan on are public meltdowns, daily arguments and tantrums.  And that's just me.   

None of this was part of my life plan when I started out.   When I started out working with children on the spectrum, it never really occurred to me that I was being prepared to have one of my own. There are days I thoroughly resist it (I think the "it" there would be God's plan....), but I am desperate to learn how to handle it, to not just survive it, but to succeed with it.  I am desperate for all of us to come through this whole and intact, maybe writing a "we survived it and lived to tell about it" book ourselves.

I want Noah to come through this knowing that I have always done everything in my power to help him.   I want him to come through this knowing he is loved and respected.  I want him to come through this and be successful.

Then there are the days, like today, that I pray we just come through this, period.

Pastor Dick

The senior pastor at our church is in the process of retiring.  When I first learned of it, the news came as a shock to me, although looking back over the past several months, it really shouldn't have been much of a surprise.  Pastor Dick's retirement is one more thing I'm struggling with (is there anything I'm not struggling with lately, really???).  I am happy that he and his wife are able to move on and will have so many opportunities to make memories with their grandchildren, and I will do what I can to keep communication with this wonderful man open.  And even though I will hold the memories dear, I still can't help but feel a touch of sadness that this time with this gentle man is over.

We came to this church a little over two years ago.  Noah and I had been attending a different church on our own and things were changing there.  Shawn had never felt comfortable there either, and only came on the rare occasions I begged him to.  A few things that happened before and after Avery's birth made me realize God had been telling me it was time to seek out a new church for our entire family to call home.

CCF was the first--and last--church we visited.  We immediately felt welcome, comfortable and, most importantly, loved and accepted.  This was the first church where Noah has been openly accepted as he is.  No one questions his quirky behaviors or suggests to me that I need to increase his medication.  No one has ever asked me what is wrong with my child.  It took us a while to be comfortable leaving Avery in the nursery, but once we started it, he was in good hands and right at home.  Shawn and I are learning to lead our family together in a relationship with Christ.  We are learning to praise and worship as a couple, to pray as a couple and learn as a couple.  Yes, we are learning to learn!

I do believe one of the strongest influences in this new church has been our senior pastor.  Pastor Dick is a gentle soul, with a fatherly/grandfatherly way about him.  That is what our family has so desperately yearned for and needed.  Neither Shawn nor I have paternal influences in our lives, so our children do not have grandfathers. I wish I could put into words just how much Pastor Dick's personality and bearing have meant to me and my family over the past two years.  He doesn't need to say that he has looked upon his flock as his children; his actions have said it all.  This man has welcomed me each week with a hug, always telling me how special we are to him, always asking how we're doing.  He has kept us with what is going on in our family, always available for prayer and a kind word (or more).  He has baptized Noah and dedicated Avery.  He's been there for us, whether out in front or in the background.  I know he has done this for each family in his flock, but the way he does it allows us to know that we are individually special to him.

I wish I knew how to tell this man how much he means to us.  Honestly, I don't quite know how to put it into words.  He has been there for us and, unwittingly and unknowingly I'm sure, filled a void in our lives.  We will saw goodbye to him tomorrow night at a special dinner in his honor, but I don't know if he will ever be able to understand what he's done for us.

God saw the need our family had for a paternal figure in our lives.  He filled that empty space with Pastor Dick.  Now, I believe, as Pastor Dick moves on to another stage in his life, God is telling us it is time to move on with our own.  I don't know what is next or what that means, but I do know He is desperate to teach me to be more dependent on Him, to see Him as the true Father in my life.  As always, God's hand is in "it" and will always keep us safe.

HoliDAZED

At church the other day, someone remarked it's the season of crazy; I agreed, replying, "Crazy with a capital C!"  The next several days are going to be maniacal for me (okay, more than usual, we'll put it that way), so I'm taking a few minutes to sit down and (attempt to) gather my thoughts!  My friends are taking bets on how long I can continue at this speed before I crash and burn.  They aren't being mean,  they just know me too well.  I think the current bet is midnight tonight....

I've been having some difficulty finding my Christmas spirit this year.  It's been a rough year and I just can't seem to shake what 'ails' me right now.  Grief and depression can be especially overwhelming for so many of us during this season.  Normally, this is truly my favorite time of the year.  I enjoy decorating my house, baking all kinds of seasonal goodies and I can't get enough of all the Christmas songs.  I get excited about shopping for my kids, wondering about their reactions on Christmas morning.  I love Santa to the point that if I didn't have to be Santa to my own kids, I'd probably still believe in him! I love what this season means to us as Believers.  As a mom, I get particularly weepy, thinking about what Mary went through.  Unfortunately, it's been difficult for me to focus on any of that this year.  We decorated, but I almost really couldn't see the point.  I'm baking, but it's wearing me thin.  And I swear if I hear one more Christmas song, I'll scream.  I'm taking care of everything on my to-do list, but there's no joy in any of it.  It's just more stuff I have to do, added to everything I already have to get done.

This is where my two best friends come in.  They got me thinking about Christmases past.  And yes, they had me laughing so hard my tears were from laughter instead of sadness.  We started talking about some of the trees we've had; like the fake Charlie Brown Christmas tree we had our first year of marriage, or the one with the root ball that died right in our living room, and the year we had early snow and ice, but I was determined we were going up the mountain to cut down our own tree anyway.  Then there was the year Shawn sort of stole our Christmas tree from the Boy Scout lot (in his defense, it was in the dead pile....).  After those adventures, we've switched to a nice, easy-to-assemble, pre-lit, fake tree!  Last year we had one kitten and another cat who still thought he was a kitten (or was finally learning he's a cat), so I every time I walked past the (fake) tree, there was one little orange face and one little black and white face peering out at me at eye level.  We've given up on having angels and stars on the top of our tree because something always goes wrong with them, but my favorite was the drunken angel we had one year.  Not only was she lit (haha), but she wouldn't stay straight on the tree.  I keep forgetting to buy an extension cord, so for the second year in a row, the lights in the greenery on the mantel are plugged into the cable box (welcome to Christmas in the van down by the river!).  We've misplaced Baby Jesus from one of the nativity scenes so many times I've considered superglueing him into his cradle; Avery and the cats are usually the culprits, of course.  I'm always horrified when I realize the toy the cats have been playing Hallway Hockey with is, in fact, Baby Jesus.  Of course, then we have all the cooking and baking adventures; last year I cooked part of our Christmas dinner with sterno because our microwave and one of the burners on my stove died on Christmas Eve.  My mother in law has been gone for 13 years, so last year, I got it in my head that I was going to cook some of the things she used to do for my husband.  I bought fresh sweet potatoes (turning my nose up at the canned ones), and went through recipe after recipe for creamed corn (again, turning my nose up at the canned stuff....).  Christmas Day came and I set to work; my husband didn't have the heart to tell me until the next day that his mom always bought the canned stuff.  Gotta love it.

I'm the type who strives to make the holidays perfect.  I want my house to look like Martha Stewart's, but it usually just ends up looking like Christmas threw up.  I want the meals to be award winning, but I end up exhausted.  I want the presents to be wrapped beautifully, but I've never been able to tie a decent bow.  I aim for the perfect Christmas year after year (I've learned there is no such thing, but I still aim for it anyway because I'm just hard-headed....), but it usually ends up looking like a Griswold Family Christmas.  And sometimes, we behave more like Cousin Eddie's family than we do Clark Griswold's....  I am slowly coming to realize that it's not the food or the decorations or the gifts that makes Christmas perfect; it's the people you spend it with who do, and the memories you make with those people (yes, even the outrageous ones).

"It Makes You Happy!"

Noah has a difficult time with empathy, reading facial cues and picking up on the emotions of others.  For this reason, we exaggerate a lot of things in our house in order to teach Noah.  It also helps Avery learn what emotions are, how to express them and read them in other people.

When we give our boys hugs and kisses, we smile broadly and exclaim, "Oh!  That makes Mommy SO HAPPY!"  When the boys are naughty or have disappointed us, we look as sad as we can, and tell them how sad their behavior has made us.  You get the idea.


This morning, Avery crawled up into my lap, hugged me, planted a big slobbery kiss on my cheek, then clapped his hands excitedly and shouted, "It makes you happy, Mommy!"


Yes, dear Avery, it does make Mommy happy.  And maybe, just maybe, I'm getting through to them at after all.

Diamonds

We're all diamonds in the rough, right?  Some of us are just waiting to shine, some of us are a little dull and in need of some buffing, from having been 'around' one too many times.  Some of us are a little rougher than others.  Others shine brightly, and seem to shine on others.

I'm not sure where I'm going with that.  I may have gotten off track a little bit.


Rob Thomas from Matchbox Twenty has the ability to make one of my best friends and I go weak in the knees.  So much of his music seems to speak to us.  One song in particular, Her Diamonds, seems to be our song.  He wrote it as a tribute to his wife, who suffers from a painful autoimmune disorder.  If Sharon or I hear it on the radio, we text the station to the other one so we can both hear it.  If we're listening to it from our own music library, we start texting the lyrics back and forth.

We "get" how the other one feels.  There are days we really don't think we can take anymore, days when we reach our breaking points.  We both are in quite a bit of physical (and emotional) pain, and this song is one way we connect, so we can let each other know that we are understood and loved.  We both strive to shine brightly--we want to shine brightly, but there are days we are dull and in need of buffing from all of our use and our pain.  There are days we just want to curl up in bed and be left alone, but even laying in bed hurts.  This is the world of physical and emotional pain.  Playing this song back and forth is how we shine on each other.

I thought I would include the link to the video, as well as include the lyrics.

"Her Diamonds"

Oh what the hell she said
I just can't win for losing
And she lays back down
Man there's so many times
I don't know what I'm doing
Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Says it's funny how the night
Can make you blind
I can just imagine
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do too
So I let her be

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don't feel right

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there's something less about her
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
And don't let her see

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She shuts out the night
Tries to close her eyes
If she can find daylight
She'll be alright
She'll be alright
Just not tonight

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNCgfrjKcqs&ob=av2e