nesting and a clutch blowout. true story.

It's interesting to me how nesting energy levels can swell and then recoil. I have days where I look at all the toys on the floor and just hope that I don't trip on anything.

Other days, I see the toys on the floor and the skid marks from the tricycle and the nicks on the wall and dust and the dirt and the brown bananas and the shitty-ass caulk work around the kitchen sink. 

And the cluttered bookcase.  And the plant that isn't getting enough light.  And the...

You get it right?

The husb, after 6 years of marriage, has finally taken a step back.  Whether the Mrs. is prego or not, he no longer interferes or comments about my need to clean, rearrange, or organize.  He just lets me roar and burn 'till the fire dims and the everything is "just so."

So, since I already have a natural proclivity to "nesting," imagine how I get when it's "3rd trimester nesting." 

Oh, it's a little bit of the crazy pants time.

And NOTHING is good enough.  Or done enough.

For example, Saturday morning.  It should be a time of pancakes, coffee (tea for me!) and pajamas until noon.  But somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I take a look around the kitchen and feel a great need, a pure biological urge if you will, to change out -not only all the face plates to the electrical outlets- but the actual electric sockets as well. 

The only thing I'm willing to "make do" with at this time, is just doing the electrical outlets on the main floor.  All 18 of them.  We'll deal with the basement and upstairs later.

(crazy pants)

And when I say "we" I mean the husb.

I also feel it's a good time to get new brakes for the car. 

(crazy pants but also necessary)

So we drop off the car at the car repair shop and then go to the nearest hardware store.

After 3 trips to the hardware store, we finally get all the parts and accessories to ROCK OUT some very necessary "we gotta do it today" socket replacement.  Fuck yeah.

By this time the car is done (yay for new brakes!).  We drive to pick up the car and as we're pulling out, the other car (the one where the tree fell on top of it) suddenly decides it doesn't want to go into first gear.

Guess what car, after 170,000 miles, needs a new clutch?  Of course, Milo and I were all the way home before I checked my phone (I had turned off the blue tooth and the ringer was on low) to hear the exasperated voice messages of my husband telling me to turn around and come get him because he had been stranded by the clutch blowing out.  What's funny is that Milo, during the whole car ride, kept asking, "Where's daddy?  Where daddy go?"  I lied and kept saying, "Daddy is right behind us.  I see him. He's right there."  Of course, I just assumed he was several cars back.  When I had pulled into our driveway and still no daddy, I had assumed he swung by the liquor store for a well-deserved 80 proof.

I know...it's getting hard for me to keep up with all this myself...

The next day?  Sunday?


I'm nesting my ass in some sand.  Rock on with my brand new maternity bathing suit! 



No electrical outlets in sight!  I think I'm safe here (and my poor husband) from any nesting instincts!

 And what am I doing on Monday?  Why restaining the back deck, of course...

A book review, of sorts.

Goodnight Moon is, of course, a staple item in most homes. That is, homes that have kids.   I have found some issues in the book that I would like to discuss...

On the last page, "good night noises everywhere," the "old lady" (who isn't a lady at all, but a RABBIT) has left the room, WITH THE FIRE STILL ROARING.

OMG OMG OMG -the baby rabbit is alone in his room with a fire in the FIREPLACE.

Not safe -Margeret WISE Brown.

Also?  You left the bowl full of mush on the bedside table. Ants aren't cool, Mags. 

And about that mouse...is this a pet mouse? Or an unwelcomed visitor due to the mush THAT'S LEFT ON THE NIGHTSTAND?

And can we talk about the red balloon? It disappears...and then comes back...and then disappears. Hmmm...my son worries about the balloon.  Exclaiming, "uh OH! uh OH!" As he frantically looks for the balloon...

Mag-pie, you're hurting and confusing my son.  Not cool.

And why are there lights on in the "little toy house?"  Most toy houses don't have electricity.  Did toy houses have electricity when this book was published in 1947? From the looks and style of your clocks and phone, I'd say you must be into the  *vintage* look, as well as, way ahead for your time.

 Speaking of which, there's a phone next to the "baby's" bed? Really? Is this necessary? Are you concerned about late night phone calls that could wake the little darling?

I mean, the "old lady" worked HARD to get that rabbit to sleep, afterall....sitting in that chair, knitting...with the occasional finger to the pursed lip "whispering hush..."

 "goodnight nobody"
Really?  Is this "writer's block?" You couldn't come up with anything here?  How about "good night, jumping on the bed.  Good night, Sprout Channel."  Those would be ideal.  And relevant...

 The rug next to the bed looks like tiger skin.  Did the "old lady" go hunting, skin a tiger, and then make her little bun-bun a rug?  Is she trying to scare her child?? 

"Act right, or you'll be a rug next to your sister's room!"

I do enjoy the gradual dimming of each page...nicely illustrating the transition into night...
And the detail of the 2 clocks in the room...how they display 7:00 and then subtely change to just after 8:00 by the end of the story,  again demonstrating the movement of time...

Oh, Goodnight Moon, you will always have a place in my heart of hearts...

Love, in every-all way

Roughly 6 years ago I was sitting at a kitchen table in a big, beautiful home in Wellesley, MA.  I was doing my weekly home visit with the mother of a 12 year old autistic boy.  These visits usually started with us chatting over coffee regarding her sons latest and greatest at school.  I was his primary teacher and in charge of implementing his 20 some-odd IEP goals.

On this particular day, we were talking about how she came to find out about her sons Autism.  She stated it was literally like a light went out in him.  He had been hitting all of his milestones: walking, started talking, appropriate play...

And then one day he stopped talking.  His play became "stereotypical" and socially he became withdrawn.

The mom stated all she wanted was to hear him say, "mama" again.

But, nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth.

The doctor that she was working with attempted to educate her on how to parent an autistic child.  He said one of the most important things was to create a routine. Autistic people crave routine and it will avoid a lot of unwanted behavior.

Mom says, "I could NEVER live my life that way.  I HATE routine."

She is a lawyer turned SAHM.  She has a strong, intelligent nature about her.  I loved how she completely honored her sons limitations, but she wasn't going to change her personality or way of going through life...

For example, medication.  In the beginning she avoided medicating his symptoms.  "I wanted him to be who he was, naturally."

But, then, it came to the point where his symptoms (aggression, ocd, manic) were no longer being managed by behavior modification.  So medication was prescribed and a happier, calmer boy ensued...

Now I don't know if it's a nurture/nature thing, but her son was one of the most flexible, laid back autistic kids I ever worked with.  He was very compliant with change and didn't need a fist full of Skittles to get through an unexpected change in his daily schedule.

After 5 years of working with children and adults with Autism Spectrum Disorder I found myself a tad gun-shy with becoming a parent.  There is no test for Autism when you are pregnant.  Prevalence is estimated at 1 in 110 births.  Some children can be diagnosed as early as 18 months (some studies say a year old) and as late as 3yo.  So as Milo got older, I referred to my trusty "What to Expect..." books and compared him to where he should be at each month...and, luckily, he has stayed in his target range of what is expected for his age...

When I'm having a particularly rough time with Milo, I often think back to the parents I worked with those years.  How they began their parenting journey so full of hope, excitement, and anticipation.  And what they must have felt when their child wasn't "normal." By the time I worked with the families they were 10 some-odd years into the diagnosis and well past the grief stage over the loss of having a "typical" child.  The best parents to work with were the ones who really understood the disorder and the specific limitations of their child.

I was in awe of the committment these parents had.  The endless meetings with teachers, speech and language pathologists, occupational therpists, home visits, respite care, staying consistent with behavior plans, med administration and the looming cloud of residential care.  Now, I know, there are many, many parents out there who have not made a similar committment to care for their developmentally delayed child, but I've been privy to some amazing parents.

I've been lucky to witness parents who have a fierce, protective parenting ethic that keeps them by their childs side with their childs best interests.  No. Matter. What.

I used to shake my head in wonder at how much these parents go through. Daily.  And the strength, courage, and responsibility they had.

I used to wonder if I had what it takes just to be a parent....let alone a parent with a child with special needs...

And now? I can safely say, ABSOLUTELY.

What a wonderful (confidence, fiercely protective, a nothing-but-love promise) feeling it is to be a parent.

No matter what...

You'll never walk alone, little man. Love you...(in) all ways..

The Boss Man a la playdate

"Hey, Ronan, I'm gonna need you to place this ball under me.  Gotta work the back and abs."

"Does this work, Milo?"

"Yup. Kthx."

"Ok. So now, Ronan, I'm gonna need you to put all the blocks and lego peices in this wagon, wheel it to the kitchen, and then build me a stepping stool strong enough for me to get up on the counter and investigate the spice cabinet.  Think you can do that?  mmmmkthx."

"Hey, Milo. The stool is all set for you. Can I share a snack with you?  Whatchu eatting?"

"Um, yeahhhhh. Well, I guess so...."

"Here ya go...But just ONE."

"Let's sit here and share! Nice Chucks by the way!"  Nom, Nom, Nom

"Alright, that's enough downtime.  If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean.  Now let's sweep up those crumbs."

"MmmmKThx"

*disclaimer: NO child labor laws were broken during the filming of this playdate.

I eat pies like you for breakfast

So here is my first attempt at charting.  I'm not even going to let on how LONG this took and how many unkind WORDS were said.  But despite my OCD yelling at me for all the tiny little mistakes that I let go to the publishers...I think this was...kinda fun...

have you flossed today?

"Floss the teeth you want to keep."  This saying goes through my head at least several times a week.  It reminds me to floss.  Some scare tactics to live a healthy lifestyle actually work on me.  This is one of them.  You'd think after countless one or two cavities, 4 some odd years of braces, wearing a headgear, and later on, a nightgaurd for the grinding, and a family history of bad teeth,  I would be Nazi clean teeth lady. 

yeah, not so much.

I have been known to giving Milo a peice of floss twice a day every once in awhile.  He actually runs it through his teeth, tasting the minty goodness.  I believe in starting good habits early.  And besides the good oral hygiene-ness of it all, it keeps him occupied, happy, and QUIET for a good 10 minutes while I floss my own teeth.  ahem.

The flaw here is that I'm not paying attention to where the floss ends up.

So there's a little background for you.  Here's the rest of the story...

Nostalgia takes place because my husband would rather play video games

This amazing photo was taken at 8 months of preg-head (around 30 weeks or so).  My BFF, who, as of right now, is still NOT A FOLLOWER of this informative and entertaing as-all-get-out BLOG, came down to visit me for the baby shower (I only had one because I don't have enough friends who love me, OH, and I never had a bachelorette party either.  Because, "I was really busy and life was so crazy and BLAH BLAH BLAH) and to marvel at my big 'ol flabby ass and puffed out face perfect bowling ball of a stomach.

We visited Anne Marie Gardens which is truly a wonderful place.  Part of this opinion comes from my high regard of the Hirshhorn Museum.  This was the first Museum I visited as an Art Studio major in College.   My fellow drawing students meandered around and we drew in our sketch books the art that "spoke" to us.  Every trip to D.C. I make it a point to visit this Museum, and revisit some of my favorite peices.  The Gardens have on loan many of the sculptures from this museum. (sigh).  I'm a big fan of abstract expressionism.  I see it as a fusion of philosophy and art. Some dig it, some don't. But in my mind, Caldor and de Kooning can do no wrong...

I took this image at the Sotterley wine fest.  You can't say it doesn't make you smile in immature amusement.

To the average single lady who doesn't have kids, this picture may be a huge turnoff...

.To the average married mama, this is a huge TURN ON!! 

Hands off, ladies, HE'S ALL MINE!

This is Milo at around 1-2 months.  Newborns are born with all sorts of reflexes.  This pic is my attempt at capturing the tonic reflex a.k.a. the fencing reflex.  I'm also trying to lure my child into being an NRA card carrying member.  Soon, he realized what I was trying to do and he screamed at me, "Give me my goddamn tie-dye one-sie, cloth diaper, and stick your boob in my mouth -NOW!"  Too bad this outfit doesn't fit him now, I totally would make him wear it for Halloween!

Speaking of newborns, whether you are a parent or not, I'm sure you know the direct correlation of baby and sleep deprivation. Before Milo joined us, I was under the impression that this passes, that sleep deprivation is a phase.  In my experience, it is not.  It is a way of life.   Milo began getting a 6 hour stretch of sleep at around 3 months.  6 hours may sound heavenly, but this ended at 2am.  And though Milo, went down at 8pm, I did not.  After that, he was up every 2 hours.  By the end of the 4th month his bottom 2 teeth started popping through.  Ever since then, it's been one tooth after another.  I think we're up to 12 teeth now.  But, every time I stick my finger in his mouth to fish out whatever random object he has located (despite my OCD-like cleaning) or to see how many teeth are now erupting, he bites me!  Yes, the little darling bites.

Teething, over-saturated diaper, colds, and/or whatever crazy dream that little guy may be having wakes him at random times during the night, any night of the week.  I honestly thought that once a child doesn't need the night feedings (I've read once they turn 12lbs, I think that is a load of shit as well) then they will magically sleep "like a baby" through the night...NOPE.

And, yes, as much as I love my son, and love parenthood, you will never see a sign like this in my front yard:

this post brought to you by Tostitos scoops and Coke

No they are not sponsoring me.  Yet. Here are a couple of things I'd like to touch base on:

Mood swings (9 months going on 16)

Oh! Daddy! You are so funny! I love that...




















Wait a minute, something ain't right...




















Seriously, you want to take a pic at a time like this...?





Get me out of this thing!!!!























I mean it, I would be outta here if you didn't strap me into this friggin', good for nothin'....here goes my foot!














Aahh, freedom, I'm going to my room....!