Spinning Yellow

Daddy Had Something to Do With It

Scott has been asking us questions about where babies come from for awhile now.  I've managed to answer his inquiries without telling too much.  This strategy is working so far only because I don't think he could possibly imagine what sex is.  He might be smart and able to talk in depth about something like electricity, but the idea of sex, there's no way he has a clue.  And I sure don't want him to.  Either he'll be trying to figure out how exactly that works by experimenting with his neighbor or he'll blurt stuff out in public like, "I know why Daddy has a penis and Mommy has a vagina!"

I also think he senses that this is a topic I am not going to explore completely with him at this time.  But we've had some funny moments so far.  I'm sure there are more, but here are a few that come to mind.

One time when Scott was at my mom's house, he innocently asked, "I know girl's don't have a penis, but what is it again that the they have?"  My mom answered, "A vagina"  To which Scott inquired, "Can I see it?"

Last year, on my birthday, while Matt was busy training for the Ironman race, I had to take the kids with me so that I could get breakfast (that I didn't have to make).  With two kids in tow going into Perkin's, Scott asked, "I know that babies grow inside your belly, but how, exactly, do they get in there?"  I think I was let off the hook because our table was ready!

A few months ago Scott asked why he couldn't marry his sister.  I told him it was against the law and also icky.  He said, "Why?  I love my sister.  And besides that, it would be so much easier, I already live with her."

“Why does there need to be a dad? The mom is the one who has the baby in her belly. What does the dad do?”  What, indeed, I wonder.

And the most recent one, sparked by a conversation about heredity and your genetic make-up when I was explaining why he might also get poison ivy because both mom and dad react to it.  I told Scott he was really good at something and he said, "Well, since I came from you.  And Daddy helped.  I would be good at that just like you guys."

That Daddy, always willing to help out.

Come on, share your favorite "where do babies come from" story.  I'm sure you have some good ones.

Memorial Day and Family Traditions

I live in a small town.  The same town that I grew up in (for the most part, from 8 years old on).  It's not like I never left.  I did go away to college and I lived elsewhere after graduation.  But even though most people can't wait to get away from the place where they grew up, I knew I would ultimately end up back here.  I love it here.  Because lots of memories were made here.  And because most of my family still lives here.

I LOVE my family.  To the depths of my heart.  Not just the one I created by marrying my husband and having children (and those family members I've now acquired through that union - I will write about them another time), but the one that created me.  My parents, my brother, my sister, my cousin (who is like a sister) and her parents, too.  I adore them.  And I mean that very sincerely. 

They piss me off sometimes and I disagree with them often.  But, mostly, I laugh with them and spend time together and am forever grateful to have them in my life and so close by.  I joke about how much we see my family.  Matt sometimes feels claustrophobic when we attend yet another Country Club Fourth of July celebration.  But he calls my dad all the time to come over and help him with house projects.  And my mom is ready to watch the kids at the first phone call.  It means so much to me that my kids know their grandparents so well.

I can write plenty about stuff that happened when I was a kid.  Good and bad.  Like when my sister used to tell me that mom and dad had the perfect family with a boy and a girl, until I was born.  Or how she and I would stay up all night playing monopoly and have to push the board under the bed to save it for another day.  Watching my brother play sports and having crushes on his friends.  When they had a party when my parents were away and made me help them clean up the next day (before they'd drive me to church) and swore me to secrecy.  All experiences that are part of who I am. 

In case it has seemed different from some of the post I've written so far, I want to be clear that I do not want to make anyone upset.  Having a blog is like chatting with a friend, gossiping and therapy at the same time.  So the positive and negative are intertwined.  So is life.

This is a perfect little small town.  Close enough to a big city, but far enough away to have all it's own unique stuff.  It is rich in culture and history.  It has great schools, good sports programs, and, of course, lots of traditional activities.  Like the annual Memorial Day parade.  The same one I marched in as a clarinet player in my junior high band and twirled baton in for my high school.  Every year we meet up with my sister and watch the parade together.

This is where my niece peed on the floor of Starbucks when she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.  Where my nephew yelled out "Hey, isn't that the baseball coach you hate" when the teams walked by.  Where my nephew said he wanted to play the flute and when we told him boys don't play the flute, a rare male flutist happened to be right in front of us.  Where Scott cried when the guns went off when he was a baby.  Where the cousins have waved their little flags and scrambled to pick up the candy thrown from parade marchers.  Where my sister and I critique the bands, deciding which is the best each year.

I am so happy to be here and to spend this time with my family of origin and with my nuclear family that I am now the center of.  I know that when my children are older they too will see the significance of family.  How they shape us and nurture us and makes us angry and proud.  I know they will feel their hearts swell too remembering all the things we've done together.

In our small town this Memorial Day we are especially sad.  Two of our own were recently killed in the war.  There were signs and memorials set out for these soldiers.  My mom and I attempted to explain the significance of this and to help Scott understand why there are wars and people die.  It is not easy to explain something you do not understand yourself.

I am so deeply sorry for the families of these servicemen.  Their loss is as painful as it gets.  Knowing that their family traditions will never include these people again is heartbreaking.  The irony of having a family to make memories with at a time when we honor those that fought and died for us did not go unnoticed for me today. 

I have never been more grateful to have those that I love so close.  I am forever in debt to those that have sacrificed their lives and potential memories to make that possible for me and my family.

Can Wii All Play?

We gave Scott the Wii for his birthday.  He opened it up in front of everyone and my 9 year old nephew knew what it was immediately.  "You got a Wii, Scott!"  I quickly felt the need to qualify, "I won it, you know.  I didn't buy it."  My sister pointed out that my nephew has been saving his money for a Wii.  He wants one so badly that he is willing to sell his Game Cube and Nintendo handheld thingie for one.  I immediately felt guilty for winning it.  "I won it by entering a contest that the Manic Mommies had, a podcast I listen to."  Silence from the crowd of my parents, Matt's parents, my sister and her family and us.

Then, "Well, Mommy, can't you enter the contest and win one, too?" from my nephew.  "The contest is over, they only gave away this one."  My sister added, "I don't have time to listen to podcasts and enter contest anyway.  I'm not home all day like Aunt Lori is."

What??

In case you haven't figured it out yet, the Mommy Wars are going on right here in my own little family circle.

"The podcast is for working mothers done by working mothers."  I start to explain and then I realize it is useless to try.  Even Scott looks a little confused, like should he be happy about this or should he feel bad for his cousin?  "Can't you win one for them, too?" he asks.

The trouble with winning things is that people get jealous.  I don't like having people upset over something I got or have that they do not.  Especially something I didn't even want that badly to begin with.  I will never truly be over when my parents won the lottery and I saw the negative reaction some people had.  A teacher of mine even asked me to marry him, as a joke, in front of the whole class.  I was 15.  One of my friends said she was happy for us, but that her family really needed the money, not ours.

We didn't have time to break out the Wii at the party, but we tried it out the next day.  It is super easy to set up and get started. After I noticed Scott inching forward with each tennis swing, I put a few pillows in front of the TV so that he wouldn't get too close.  He caught on right away.   Actually, I am surprised at how easy it is to play.  Even I can hit a tennis ball in this game!  And Scott's OT approves (in moderation, of course).

We had our first Wii injury that day.  Matt was playing tennis with Scott when he hit his hand on the basement ceiling.  Ouch.  At least no one broke anything.  Yet.  I can see why people have accidentally flung their controller at their TV!

We took the Wii over to my parent's house for my father's birthday party.  My dad could barely watch as the kids played in front of his big HD TV.  He kept yelling at them to make sure the wrist strap was on tight.  Then he told them to play in a different room, which no one did.  And, as is true to his personality, he judged everyone's form and subsequent success or failure with each play they made.  "Put your arm up!  You swung too late!"  Talk about taking the fun out of it.

What is good about the Wii is the same thing that is bad.  It is interactive and is more fun with multiple people.  You can have as much fun watching as you can playing.  So it is great for a group, but not as fun for one six year old who plays in the basement.  As in, "Mommy, please play with me."  At least when he plays on the computer I know he is occupied and is not looking for me.  And if I am going to play with him, I would rather play cards or Chinese Checkers or just go outside.  If you don't like to play sports, you probably aren't going to like playing them with the Wii either.

But, boy did the kids have fun when they played together.  I know it will get a lot of use in the winter when you can't play baseball outside.  And I know one kid for sure that will play with Scott whenever he wants him to.  His cousin. 

As long as Scott gets to play the last turn.

Oh, and he always wins, of course.

We could just send him over to my sister's house with the Wii.  Maybe she didn't win it, but we'd rather play with them than against them.

Special thanks again to the Manic Mommies for the Wii and also for the Yes to Carrots products (which I gave to my sister, not being a product girl myself).

 

To the Person Who Searched on SPD Toliet Training

Please come back.  I hope you search again.  I haven't written a post to explain the hell we went through and that is THE main reason I am blogging to begin with!  You can e-mail me if you want information sooner.  But I promise to write the whole crazy story soon.  And add the links to the SPD sites and resources.  There is help and hope out there!  Who ever you are, I am here for you.

Two Funny Things From Yeseterday

A few minutes after Jane woke up she was standing still watching Matt get ready for work.  He said, "Good Morning!  Is everything alright?"  To which she sighed and replied, "I'm just a little bit bored".  I guess we hadn't set up the circus yet at 7am.  Wow, life sure is a drag at 3 years old.

My kids and my neighbor's kids were all in our yard playing.  The boy came up to the deck looking for me, "Miss Lori, Scott let me touch bird poop."  Trying to keep a straight face, I asked, "How exactly did that happen, sweetie?"  "He told me to touch it, touch it, and then when I did, he told me it was bird poop."  I could tell he was really hurt so I had to muster up something like, "That wasn't very nice of him, it must have hurt your feelings."  Then I had to say "I think the lesson here is to not always do what Scott tells you to."  When I asked Scott about it later he said, "Well he's not smart enough to know what it was."  Of course I did have to explain that it was a mean thing to do and that he took advantage of him and how that's no way to treat a friend.  But I was still laughing thinking about how Scott let him touch the poop!

What We See

One of my favorite bloggers, This Mom, wrote a post the other day that made me cry.  It is not the first thing she has written that has moved me to tears.  I still feel new to this whole community and have only lurked at certain sites.  I feel a little bit of a kinship with This Mom even though I have never exchanged e-mails or even commented on her blog.  Her son, who she calls Fluffy, has Apergers, and also SPD.  That's how I found her to begin with.  Scott does not have ASD, but when you read things that This Mom and others write about their so called High Functioning kids, they sure sound similar.  In fact, This Mom has a book she is collecting stories for called Gravity Pulls You In.  The introduction she wrote about a conversation she had with Fluffy was almost word for word the same as an exchange that Scott and I had the day before I read her post.  So similar it is eerie.  And her son is six and a math whiz and has thoughts he can't stop from coming and, can you believe this, they just got home from a trip to Mexico that her mother organized for her and her siblings, JUST LIKE WE DID!!

So I want to say, like many others did in the comments, that This Mom rocks.  She has expressed  beautifully what I feel.  Last year when Scott had been in OT for about 6 months, there was a non-verbal boy who came after him.  Scott would always say hello to him even though he learned quickly that the boy could not actually talk.  I used to leave OT and think, that boy needs so much more than Scott, why are we here?  And then someone said that it is a therapists job to help a person fulfill their potential.  Maybe that is being able to stop chewing their clothes like it was for Scott.  Or maybe it is being able to say hello.

See, if your child has a neurological-based type of disorder, there might not be any obvious symptoms (at least to others).  It is not like getting a blood test that says you have a disease.  A clear cut answer.  It is subjective to the evaluator.  Matt and I think that Scott could have been diagnosed with ADHD or maybe even Aspergers, depending on when (and by whom) in this process he was evaluated.   Maybe, in the future, there will be a definitive test, like the results from a CAT scan, to determine the extent of one's neurological dysfunction.

But it is still relative.  I mean what exactly is normal and what isn't?  And does it matter?  Some of the most brilliant and talented people throughout history have had terrible mental disorders.  Matt and I have encountered so many people along the way who think that we are making something out of nothing.  That there is nothing really wrong with Scott, so that means that he does not need any fixing.  Sure, you could probably go that route, but does someone with less of a problem not require anything?  Where do you draw the line?  If a child cannot speak it is obvious that they could use some remediating, but what if they just feel things differently?  How do you decide who is worthy of being treated and who is "good enough"?  At a base level you need to be able to function.  After that, it is all about the degree to which you are living a full life.  I agree with the people who write that "there is a big world out there and my child has to learn how to live in it." 

When we were on vacation, my brother commented that Scott seemed outwardly fine to him.  That being around him you would not know that he has any issues.  I am grateful that this is true, because I want so much for him to blend in.  He has made such progress that I do not doubt that most people would consider him completely "normal".  And he is.  Maybe.  OK, not completely.

What my brother and others do not see, Matt and I notice.  The way Scott was crossing and uncrossing his fingers, turning his wrists  away from his body in an awkward, uncomfortable way.   That he repeatedly asked safe quizzing questions like "what's 2 million plus 8 million?" to remind himself that even though we were far away, he was still in control.  How he was punching and body slamming into the beds not able to stop himself even when we asked him to over and over again.  How he still didn't know which direction to go toward our room after we'd been there for 5 days.   How he never used the paper napkin in the dining room.  That he wouldn't put his head under the water for fear of getting swimmer's ear again and having to endure the pain and the icky ear drops.  That he was upset about the vibration in his ears when the plane was taking off and landing.  That he kept looking at his feet and trying to time his footsteps to avoid cracks in the sidewalk.  How he couldn't just sit next to his cousin without actually touching him.

In general, how much harder it is for him to just keep it together.  Sure it has taken Jane a little while to get back into the normal routine, but for Scott it has taken longer, and he is twice as old.  Maybe it could just be called their personality.  That's fine, as long as we are still trying to help him manage.

I don't want people to see these things that we see.  I am over wanting validation from people that he actually has problems.  Because it doesn't even matter any more.  It is all mixed together under the banner of Parenting.  Giving your child the support and guidance they need to grow into well adjusted, functioning adults.  Not to "fix" them, but to help them.  Not to solve all their problems but to give them opportunities to work it out themselves.  To hold their hand when they need it and let go when they are capable. 

It is a fine line.  I want Scott to like himself, not in spite of the SPD, but because of it.  I wish that I had understood  when I was younger  that I was different.  Not in a bad way, but in a way that might mean I had to make adjustments others did not.   And that I could trust myself and my feelings.  I knew I was smarter than average but I never understood why I felt things more intensely.  I was told that I was too picky and overly sensitive.  I now realize that those things are not necessarily negatives.   Maybe more than anything else I want Scott to know that we believe in him so that he can believe in himself.  He has already accomplished so much.  He needs to know this and to know that life is about continuing to learn, grow, evolve.

On this trip we also saw how he was able to negotiate games with his cousins and even give in sometimes.  That although the plane toilet flush startled him, he did not scream or panic.  He had a typical reaction to something unexpected.  That he could interact with unknown kids by saying hello without getting too close to them.  Little things, I know, but still significant.  Certainly some of this progress is just normal maturing.  But compared to his sister who has never had any of these problems, even at the age of 3, you can tell something is slightly different with Scott.

My mother once said that all kids really need is your love and attention.  How you interpret this is based on your own parenting style, values and beliefs.  It is an individual relationship for each family, each child and each parent.  Paying attention means that you know what is going on in your child's head and body.  What matters to them.  What makes sense to them.  Loving them means that no matter what those things are that they think or feel that they are still the most special, unique person ever.  That you will always support and believe in them just the way they are.

No Cookies?

A boy scout came to our door tonight selling tickets to the annual strawberry festival fund raiser.  As Matt collected the money to give to the boy, he called Scott to the door.  He introduced the kid to Scott and said, can you tell my son a little about the Boy Scouts.  The well spoken youngster said well, mostly we go camping.  After he left, Matt explained to Scott that the Boy Scouts go on hikes, do community work, learn first aid, and all sorts of interesting things.  He told Scott it was something he could do when he got a little older if he was interested.  Scott looked thoughtful and then said, well they're the ones who give out the cookies, right?  I think I'd like that!

They Play on the Beaches, the Color of Peaches...

We went to Bermuda and I never did see a pink beach.  That's because I stayed at the resort, for the most part, not venturing out farther on the island where the famous sand is located.  At our hotel it appeared that the beach was manufactured, brought in from someplace else, the color of sand from New Jersey or North Carolina.  No problem, though, it was still beautiful.  The water was a fabulous turquoise color and the weather was perfect for most of the time we were there.

Here are some notes from the trip.

Do kids always get sick before or during vacation?
The day before we left Scott seemed sick saying that his head hurt and he was tired.  This is typically what happens when he has a fever and sure enough he felt super warm.  He was fine the next morning as we headed out, but now it was Jane's turn.  On the way to the airport she started coughing.  So much so that we almost pulled over to give her an emergency nebulizer treatment.  By the time we arrived in the long term parking lot, which was several miles away from the airport, she had stopped.  We still repacked the nebulizer in a carry-on bag (Scott's backpack, he's strong, right?) and hoped we wouldn't have to use it until we got to Bermuda.

Look, even the baby has to take off her shoes!
The whole check-in and security check is in no way convenient.  Especially for those with small children and who do not travel much.  I was prepared to take Jane out of the stroller and knew that all our shoes would have to come off.  A woman behind us started laughing when she saw Jane's little purple Crocs up on the conveyor belt, realizing the absurdity of it all.

Are you prepared to fly without your husband?
After we trekked out to the farthest gate and got something to eat, the plane started boarding.  I suddenly realized that I did not have my backpack.  I had all our passports and important items with me in a separate pouch, but the backpack was my carry-on bag.  Matt concluded that I must have left it at the security check-in and went off to retrieve it.  Once it looked like everyone had boarded the plane, I went up to the gate to explain the situation.  I told them I was sure he'd be along any minute, he's an Ironman I explained.  Scott started to panic when the gate check woman made the above statement.  So helpful.  Just as they were calling for final boarding the other gate checker said, "There he is!".   Sure enough, Matt was running toward the gate with my backpack on his arm.  It was like a scene from a movie.  My hero.  I even let him sit on the plane by himself while I sat between the two children.

But we don't have carseats!!
Scott is a rules player.  This is a good thing when you want your child to do what is right, but when you need them to be flexible, good luck!  I have always been a rules player myself, so I understand where he is coming from.  Try explaining to a six year old why it is OK this time to ride in the taxi without carseats and even seatbelts!  Also, how about why it is alright to lie and say you are 4 instead of 6 in order to ride the bus for free.  Not worth the few bucks we would have saved.  He just couldn't understand it.  But I AM six he kept saying.

Is every meal going to take 2 1/2 hours?
Fortunately, no.  Only the first dinner did.  It was mostly fine as kids behaved and everyone was happy to be together.  Except for this comment:

Well, she should be potty trained by now.
From my sister, who thinks I am a child coddling SAHM and can't seem to stop herself from making snippy comments about what she thinks I am doing wrong.  Seems to me that her first wasn't potty trained when he was 3 either, but I promised myself I would not fuel this argument.

Scott, would you dance with me?
My niece, who is 6 months younger than Scott, can be quite the handful.  She is a little bratty, but also  a character.  In the past, she and Scott have sparred a lot, but on this trip they got along great.  They invented games at the beach and chased bubbles together on the lawn.  And they even danced together.  One time in front of the whole dining room.  They were the hit of Carribbean night, twirling each other around and bowing at the end of their routine.

Do you ever get ten minutes of peace?
My sister-in-law, who does not have kids, asked me this while we were at the aquarium.  I replied that that is why I let them watch TV.  I couldn't help myself, because I know she thinks they watch too much TV and also play too many computer games.  That was a point of contention on a different family trip.  Funny thing is that when she said this I didn't even notice that my kids were being demanding.  I guess I am just so used to hearing "Mommy!!" 10 million times a day that it doesn't even phase me.

Maybe I'll run tomorrow.
Or not at all.  There wasn't any place to run anyway.  And besides that, running would have interfered with my rum swizzle drinking.

I have to go potty, NOW!
You have to hand it to Scott.  For a kid who didn't poop during the daylight for years, he is now a pooping champ.  Going in the airplane bathroom, in the skanky beach restroom, wherever and when ever he needs to.  Just don't ask him to wait a few minutes to get to a more convenient or cleaner spot.

Oh, Cabana Boy!
I knew my husband had worked at a beach club in New Jersey when he was a teenager, but  I didn't realize this made him an expert umbrella setter-upper.  How handy.

Mom has the fraternity paddle!
This was from my brother who used to get "paddled" when he was a kid.  One day when we were young, the paddle mysteriously disappeared.  My father always blamed my brother and my sister and I assumed that my brother got rid of it (thank goodness).  Turns out my mother actually stole it away (to protect her precious son).  My brother just discovered this and couldn't get over the fact that he had been falsely accused for all these years.

It costs how much for a little sand bucket?
I had wisely thought to bring a beach bag and two beach balls (I learned that trick from the Manic Mommies travel show), but I did not bring beach toys.  The gifts shop had a few super expensive ones.  We brought them home with us and are now using them as flower pots.

But I'm not tired.
That was Matt, not the kids, on our last night of all sleeping together in one room.  To my mom's defense, this wasn't her plan.  She thought our rooms would all be together and the kids would sleep in one room, leaving each adult couple alone.  No such chance.  I didn't mind since it was only a few days, but Matt really didn't like having to share a bed with Scott and all going to sleep at 9pm.  We got a tiny crib for Jane the first two nights then upgraded her to a cot since she couldn't even stretch her legs out in the portable crib.  I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I tried to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to everyone before we all went to sleep.  Yeah, WAY too much togetherness.

She wouldn't last very long at our house.
My brother and sister-in-law were clear that they felt my niece was in serious need of some discipline.  It was kind of funny to watch them react to the things she tried to pull.  When I got home I stumbled across this quote in the newspaper, "The best way to discipline a child is to not be it's parent."  So true.  I think my niece knows how to play her parents just like all clever kids know how to do.  At the same time I think it is much easier to tell someone else what they should be doing than actually being the one doing it.

This is the plane to Newark, honey, don't even think about New York or you'll get all confused.
Said the oh-so-helpful gate checker in Bermuda when I tried to figure out which gate was the one to New York.  There were 3 planes leaving at the same time, 2 to NY and 1 to Newark.  I do know the difference between the two cities, thank you very much.  Maybe you are the one who is confused.

Oh, you mean I actually have to prepare, cook, and clean up meals again?
I sure could get used to having a full course breakfast and dinner prepared for me each day.  I would NEVER tire of that.

If vacations are supposed to be so good for you, how come I am always so exhausted and crabby before and after?
Enough said.

We're Back!

It's true.  We made it down to Bermuda and back all together and we are fine!  My mother's trip, that she planned for a year, turned out pretty much the way I expected. 

There was fun in the sand and at the pool.  There was a lot of eating and drinking.  There was way too much togetherness.  There were snippy comments about each other's kids and how we are not parenting correctly.   There was lugging stuff around and disorder and chaos.  There were adorable sibling and cousin moments. There were funny, good times; wonderful memories made.  Details to follow.

But first, the aftermath.  When we arrived home on Tuesday late in the day, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it to Running Class.  Matt had to mow the lawn and the kids were starving with nothing to eat in the house.  Everyone was exhausted and just plain sick of each other.  I think we were all pretty happy to be in our own beds and in separate bedrooms again.

Wednesday was spent first running, in an attempt to get back on the wagon after a week of no formal exercise.  Then it was laundry, cleaning the car, scrubbing down all items that were used during the trip or touched afterwards before  proper hand washing had occurred.   Matt asked what put me over the edge when he saw me on my hands and knees dunking items into a soapy wash pail.  "Was it the cockroach crawling across the hotel room the last day?"  "No, it was the stupid soft pretzels you gave the kids on the ride home that they ate with filthy dirty hands and got salt and crumbs every where."  Well, that, and also that their feet were black from something in the grass in Bermuda (goose poop?) that was in their Crocs and just plain gross.

After all that cleaning, I next had to tackle mail, newspapers, bills, e-mails, TiVO'd Sopranos and Entourage (hey, I have my priorities straight), grocery shopping and appointments (my doctor, Scott OT).  By Thursday night, I fell into bed promising myself I would get back to the blogging today.

At 3am Scott ran into our bedroom and scared the crap out of Matt and me.  I yelled out and then Matt jumped up screaming.  Our reaction made Scott panic.  Complete chaos.  I am a light sleeper and can usually get my act together quick in an emergency, but I was so taken off guard, it took me a long time to calm myself down.  And Scott couldn't understand why we reacted so crazily.  Well, he's had bad dreams before and come into our room, but something about the way he ran in and how tired and completely asleep we were, just threw us over the edge.  Scott asked to stay in our room and I couldn't possibly say no after we had contributed to his horrible night's sleep.   Plus, I know from experience with Scott, that a trip like ours, along with trying to get back into the routine at school and the OT that day, he was thoroughly overstimulated.  I felt so badly for him.  He did tell me, in his mature kid way, that he knows the dreams aren't true, that there aren't any monsters, but that it was still scary. 

I  NEVER let the kids sleep in our room.  But, like I was saying, this time, I had to make an exception.  The reason why I don't ordinarily is because no one sleeps.  Which is exactly what happened.  Matt finally went to sleep in Scott's room so then he didn't hear his alarm go off at 5am, waking me up once again (I never really settled down anyway).  So today was just a day of sleep deprived catch up.  Finally I am writing, at 10pm.

Scott had a good time today imitating us jumping around and screaming.  He said he was sorry for scaring us and would try not to run into our room again.  I couldn't really tell him that I was the one who felt sorry.  For doing too much with him and pushing him over the edge.  It is just the way it is sometimes.  I guess the best I can do is help him cope better.  I shared some of my favorite nightmare stories with him (good material for another post).  Letting him have a good laugh at my expense is the best thing I can do sometimes. 

It seemed to do the trick.  He is asleep right now. 

In our bed.

Coming Up for a Quick Breath of Air

I know. I know.  Why haven't I been posting?  What's happened?

I am barely keeping it together for no good reason, just life, lots of stuff going on at once.  That's it. 

I LOVE blogging and have missed it enormously.  I have tons of posts to write.  SO many ideas in my head I can't think straight.  The thoughts need to come out, soon!  I will give you a quick summary of why things have been so busy.  Then I will go on vacation.  Then I will return and go back to blogging regularly.  And hopefully you (and I) will be happy.

April is the second most busy month of the year for us.  It closely reviles December in the amount of work and stress.  It is all the spring stuff; the lawn, the garden, swapping out clothes, activities, etc.  And it is also because of the two birthdays right in a row.  We planned to have two spring babies and we did.  Lucky us.  It is a great time to have a birthday, but two at once is a lot of work.  Every year I feel I do less but am more tired and overwhelmed.  The best part is that it is over fast.  Except for the thank-you notes, which I am traditionally putting off writing.

The entire month of April I tell myself that I will do this or that after the birthdays.  By the time the party is over I am so spent that I can't really accomplish much.  My dad's birthday and my father-in-law's birthday come a week later and then mother's day.  More gatherings, more gifts.  April stress spills into May.  Add to that a wedding we attended last weekend, trying to finish my book for bookgroup (deadline was Tuesday), and getting ready for this trip and now you see what's been happening.

Of course there is all the regular house chores, volunteering at school, running and working out,  bills to pay, shopping to do, baseball games, doctor appointments, OT for Scott, and so on.

No excuse really.  Just the way things have played out. 

See you back here soon.  I'm looking forward to it.