Honda, take this idea and run with it

I have reached that point of Winter at which I feel I can't go on. I have done my time. Shoveled my drive, driven my kids to the school that is in our backyard because it's just so cold, kept my windows closed and my heater on.
Enough. I'm out. Winter wins. Again.
I can feel the weight of it on my chest. I just want to open a freakin' window already.
Thanks, I just had to get that out there in the world so maybe the snow Gods would turn things around and shine a little sunshine on me.
In other thoughts from my brain. I am in the market for a new mini-van that has a partition between the front and backseats.
How awesome would that be. My kids loose their minds when we get in the car. Before we even pull out of the driveway someone is bored and someone has touched or breathed on someone that didn't want touched or breathed on.
I think I would be a better mom if my car had a partition. I know I would be a less distracted driver.
It's really just a safety issue.
It could be see-through, and I could have an intercom on my side. Just in case.
My husband drives limos and of course they have the partition, which he uses regularly.
Although, sometimes people want the partition down, and then they do things that would make Jenna Jamison blush.
Here is a piece of advice for all of you that may ride in limos at some point in the future. What happens in the limo does NOT stay in the limo.
The limo driver entertains all of his neighbors with stories about you and your crazy porn-star behavior.

Anyway, I digress.
I want a partition in my next mini-van and I think that there would be a market for this. Either a partition or a really long stick that I could use to knock my kids on their silly little heads.

Too funny to not share

So I was taking Stella to dance last night and because of the crazy amounts of snow we have had lately I was having a really hard time finding a parking spot.
One, because her dance studio is in Uptown which is small, home to a college campus, busy and has mostly street parking.
Two, because apparently people loose their freakin' minds when it snows and cannot appropriately judge distance between parking spaces without the aid of the white lines (which are still somewhat covered with snow). So, even in the parking lots without the lines it some how becomes okay to park diagonally in the parking space.
I was making my third loop around the block and trying to make a left. Traffic cleared and I started my turn when some ass flew out of his spot on the curb and cut me off.
This is the conversation the followed.

Me: Jesus Christ!

Stella: (leaning forward from the back seat trying to see out the front window) Really? Is it him?!?

Me: What?

Stella: Was that really Jesus Christ? I think I saw him too.

Me: Laughing.

Ok. So I don't typically cuss in front of the kids and I try really hard not to take JC's name in vain, but this cracked me up. She was so serious and so excited.
I tried to explain what had happened, but she was just really focused on her Jesus sighting.


--------

The 4year old boy I watch is pissed off because I won't let him play the Wii all freakin' day. He is taking it out on the dog and his sister.
He keeps pushing the dog off the couch and 'accidently' hitting him. I wish the dog would at least growl at him
I am about ready to knock him in his silly 4 year old noggin.
Just another example of why 4 seems to suck ass.
He is also watching Diego and he keeps call him a "not knower", and bitching about how much he has to help Diego do everything.

Tough choices

Thanks to all for the support offered up following my last post.
The boy that I watch lost his cool again and I made the call to his Mom to let her know I was officially done at this point.
If it was just me, I would have stuck it out with him, but I have to put the safety of my kids and the smaller kids that I watch as my first priority.
Also, his Mom somewhat refuses to address his new behavior that was throwing me for a loop. She insists that it is a natural thing to want to do.
Fine. Agreed. But, as for all things, there is an appropriate time and place.
My home is not the place.
Anyway, he made it a tiny bit easier on me when he completely lost his cool. He kicked and punched the walls and stuck his finger in my face. I could have handled all of that, but then he turned his anger toward Miles.
Sorry. Done.
I wish the best for him. I just know that I have come to the point where I can no longer be of any help.

Some things I have been thinking about

Just some highlights of what is causing the swirlyness in me head....

The teen aged developmentally delayed kiddo that I watch in the afternoon has hit puberty. He wants to do some things that he did not before. He wants 'privacy' for these activities, but will proceed regardless.
This is problematic for several reasons.
Umm, not in my house. Please.
I have three other kiddos that I watch, plus my three and I don't want to have to explain to them what he is wanting to do. Not yet.
He gets very angry when he is unable to do his business. He has gotten big and has several inches on me in height and outweighs me.
I am afraid it is time to find alternative care for him, but I do feel guilty because for years he has been welcome in my home and enjoyable to have around.
I am not sure how I am going to proceed.

I had a CT scan. I had my gallbladder out a little over a year ago. I felt great, until all the symptoms came back.
I put off going to the doctor, because I was worried.
The CT sucked. They could not get an IV in me. It took forever.
Now I am anxiously awaiting results.
I hate waiting.

I have been doubting my parenting skills lately. Mostly in the 'how am I dealing with autism' arena.
Do I do enough? Could I suck more at getting paperwork done? How much longer can I stand the crazy eye from the nurse when I explain that I do not under any circumstances want any more vaccines for my kids?

So I am doing what I do worst. Waiting and trying not to worry or over think.
What do you think?

If you don't have anything nice to say...

Did your Mom ever hit you with that diddy?
"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
I know I heard it growing up and I say it to my kids. Only I have shortened it to, "If you don't have anything nice to say, shut it."
This is what is going on with me lately. I don't have anything to say. Nothing.
It swirls in the brain, but can't seem to make it to the page.
I'm trying. I intend on being back, once I have something to say again.

Volunteering

Today I began my journey on the 'kindergarten volunteer' road. And already, what a long strange trip it has been.
Several times, notes have come home that there were still spots to fill in the area of volunteer if any parents would be willing to step up. Against my better judgement, I stepped up.
So today, I loaded up the small one and off we went to do our volunteer time.
I arrived and was informed that my job for the day, if I was willing to do it, would be painting each child's foot and stamping it on a paper for their 'all about me books'.
Let me just say, some kids are much cleaner than others, and some are much less capable of not wiggling than others, and some share much more information about their personal lives than others.
First day out and I already have some serious dirt on some families. Makes me want to accompany my kids to school everyday just to monitor what they share.
We successfully painted 23 feet and took a few groups to the library and sat through one 'all about me' presentation, that made me feel a little bit better about our presentation.
Over all a great day. I think one of the best ways to feel better about your own kids, is to hang out with other kids. It's a little wake up call that you are not such a bad parent, kids are just kids, and painting their feet with cold blue paint will make them laugh. Loudly.

All about her

This is the very happy kindergartner on her 'All about me day.' She loves days that are all about her. Very. Very. Much.



This is the family in which the Mom is pretending she is not really irritated with the Dad for being late to the 'All about me day.' After all, it's not about her.




This is the boy who insisted on helping make the life size portrait of his sister and then complained the entire time that I clearly loved her more than him because he clearly remembers that we spent way less time on his life sized portrait 4 years ago. Oh, and I purposely made his lips ugly and girly in his portrait just to be mean.


This is the portrait. I think it's kind of cute. Um, sideways but cute.


This is a close up of the curly hair which the kindergartner protested about, as she felt long straight hair would be more reflective of who she really wanted to be.

He's a stickler for traditions

Autism has changed just about everything in my life. I have met people that I would have never met, researched more than I ever did for anything in college and learned to be more flexible than I ever thought I would have the ability to be.
As we are making our way through this holiday season, I have noticed more and more how OCD my son has become and how this new development is changing our lives. Or, rather trying to keep it exactly the same.
With Halloween it was the peel and stick window clings. We have had the same ones for years and I do generally put them in about the same place, so this year I thought I would mix it up and bought some new peel and sticks. I'm wild like that.
Stella and I thought we would surprise the boys and have the house decorated when they got home from school.(Really, this was my attempt at not having to decorate the house with all three of my super helpers present)
As Miles came up the driveway from school I could see the panic on his face. He nearly jumped out of the moving vehicle when he saw that not only had we added new decorations, but had moved the location of the old decorations. I spent the next 45 minutes consoling Stella over the destruction of her had work and consoling Miles over the window that I promised Stella I wouldn't let him disassemble.
Later, he dug through the basement until he found the third wooden pumpkin to complete the set from the year before, as I had only brought out two of the original three.
We managed our way through Thanksgiving with little trouble. Apparently, he is not as attached to some of those traditions. We did however, have to say a personal good bye to each and every pumpkin and gourd in the house before sending them on their merry way with the garbage.
Christmas is bringing it's own challenges. You would not believe how difficult it can be to decorate a Christmas just as someone remembers it in their own mind from the year before. He did chill once we got Thomas the Tank Engine safely in his predesignated position. What would I do without Thomas?
I was surprised too when this morning he did not want to go and get the tree because the moon was not out. We did eventually convince him that it would be okay to get the tree in sunlight, but he muttered about the moon the entire car ride and said he was scared when we got to the tree lot.
He is in bed now, after asking for the 5,000,000 time what day it was. He was not satisfied with any answer that involved the word November. Apparently, we can only buy trees in December.
After trying to reason with him and showing him the calendar to no avail, I just proclaimed it 'Tree day' and saved us all a lot of grief.

Then the wrath of God struck the bad Sunday school teacher down...

Oh, Sundays. I have very little affection for Sundays. I wish I could say that I love herding my kids off to church mostly against their will and that I love teaching Sunday school and I get a big kick out of trying to catch up on laundry and I wish doing homework, that has been left for the last minute, with three kids, was a hoot for me, but it's not.
Today church was really bad. We have a new director of children's ministries and she felt the need to team teach with me. I think she was observing me. Awesome.
I struggle 'teaching' in front of other adults. I am not a fan of talking a lot in front of other adults and unfortunately teaching requires one to speak.
Oh, and there is the little matter of how I don't agree with all of the lessons hammered out in the old testament, and I prefer to skim over things rather than explain how God brought his wrath down on those who chose not to believe in him.
When kids ask questions about what happened to all of the people who lived in the city of Jericho when the walls came down, I would rather sugar-coat it, and not explain that as non-believers they met with the wrath of God.
I don't know whether or not I lived up to her standards, but I hate to tell her I have been teaching for the past 6 years because they can't find another sucker, I mean good Christian, to teach.

Anyway. My hubby is face down on the couch. Sacked out. He rolled in from his limo run around 3:30am and then had to play in the band at church. I envy his ability to sleep anywhere at anytime. He feel asleep in a bar once. Not passed out, he actually dozed off while we were with a group of friends listening to a live band. He is a serious sleeper.

I am going to go upstairs now and try to convince Miles that homework is super fun. Wish me luck.

I heart Ben and other random tidbits

I have been trying so hard, most likely way too hard, to try and think of something to write about everyday. I am not doing well.
It's not that nothing interesting has been happening, it just all seems a bit blah.
I did go to a Ben Folds concert a few weeks ago. It was everything opposite of blah. He rocked. I love how he plays the piano. He stands up and well he rocks. We saw him with the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, it was a gift from my hubby for our 11 years of marriage.
Was it wrong that I was crushing on Ben, while celebrating 11 years of marriage to my hubby? I am a sucker for a boy and a piano, or guitar, or violin, okay pretty much any instrument makes me a little swoonish.
Ben played with the orchestra until they tired of him and then he played on his own once the orchestra had retired for the evening. I had an awesome time. Thank you hubby.

This week we had parent teacher conferences. I find it excruciatingly hard to not make excuses for my offspring as I sit across from their teachers and listen to what they have to say about my kids.
Kindergarten is especially hard because they put you in those tiny kindergarten chairs and you are physically and mentally uncomfortable. It's like a crazy form of kindergarten torture.
In truth, the conferences went fairly well. All of the kids have areas where they could use some work, but I have learned to expect that.
I think having kids made me realize how wonderful imperfection can be. My kids are far from perfect and yet I couldn't love them more or be more proud of the people they are becoming.
My oldest can't spell. I have to take full credit for that. I can't spell to save my life. It is like I have a block on certain words and no matter how many times I write that word I am never quite sure how it is spelled.
His teacher said in her opinion by 4TH grade you can either spell or you can't, but don't give up. I thought it was a weird thing to say considering my son is a 4TH grader and all. Thank God, I have embraced imperfection.
Miles just came downstairs dragging pillows and a blanket and he is doing this thing where he has both sides of a conversation. He is saying something about how he is going to sleep on the couch and I am apparently giving him permission, because he just said "Thanks, Mom. That makes me so happy."
"You're welcome?"

The hubby was not supposed to have to work today. Then he had to work from noon until 4. Then noon until 9. Then he called around 9:30 and said someone had called for a limo from 10 until 4. So, he ended up working today. Bummer.

Have your kids started making their Christmas lists yet? Mine have. The top item on Caleb's list is an Easy Bake Oven. He thinks it would be awesome to be able to cook a cake in his room. I love it. He is that kid who can go from talking smack about baseball to making cupcakes in one fell swoop.
Love it.

Daisy Girl

I just dropped Stella off at her first ever Daisy Girl Scout function. She was so excited she could barely contain her adorable little 5 year old body.
I am already much more keen on Daisy Scouts than Cub Scouts.
Stella's first event is the 'Spa-spectacular'. The girls dressed in jammies and the older girls are doing the little girl's nails and toes and giving them glittery hair and such.
When I dropped her off there was a line up of older girls waiting to escort the Daisy girls back to the 'spa'.
They were polite and sweet.
They had fancy spa music playing and everyone looked too cute.
This is a far cry from Cub scouts.
At Cub scouts the boys wrestle and punch and laugh at each other's bodily functions.
Their events consist of things like 'The Cold Toes Camp-out'. Their favorite song is 'Great Big Globs of Greasy, Grimy Gopher Guts'.
I have told Caleb and Miles that I will do my best to make it to this years 'Cold Toes Camp-out'.
Who am I kidding. I am not a girly-girl, but if I have my choice of camping in Ohio in February or going to a girly spa night, you can bet your sweet cheeks I will be getting my nails done by some 9 year old Girl Scout.
Maybe next year boys!

If it itches....

I got a phone call from the school clinic yesterday informing me that Miles seemed to have a persistent itch down south. His APE (adaptive physical education) teacher had brought him into the clinic.
I was later told by a friend who teaches at the school that she indeed saw Miles and Mr. I in the gym. Miles was trying to persuade Mr. I to take a look at his itchy parts and Mr. I was adamant in his refusal.
So, off to the clinic they went.
This is when I received the phone call. The 'nurse' informed me of the apparently unscratchable itch and expressed grave concern.
My thought was, he's a boy, he probably didn't wipe well, he's bored......
When I asked if she noticed any rash, I was informed that she was just a sub and not an actually nurse at all and checking random boys for rashes was way out of her area of expertise.
It was decided that he should be sent home so that I could properly investigate the rash and apply an anti-itchy cream.
My question is what is the use of a substitute nurse if she is not even willing to take one for the team and investigate a little rash.
There was no rash. Maybe some dry skin. Maybe.
He came home. He played on the computer. I think he secretly laughed about the nurse who refused to sneak a peek at his bum. He did not scratch his itch.
I actually wrote a note in his notebook today that if he is to start itching again, maybe suggest that he itch in the bathroom and then wash his hands.
My hubby of course thought it was hilarious and called him Mr. Crabs all night. The kids of course, thought we were referring to Mr. Krabs on Sponge Bob and Stella started calling herself Sandy.
Never a dull moment.

Bad dog, Good Halloween

Some of the neighborhood kiddos at the annual Halloween pre-trick or treat party.


Caleb as a 'killer clown'.

Stella and Miles. Army guy and Flora the Fairy.

My computer monitor blew up leaving me temporarily stranded in the big bad real world. It was not fun.
I am thinking about 'accidentally' leaving my back gate open so my dog can 'accidentally' escape and find another family to torment.
You would not believe all of the stuff this dog can eat. The kicker was last week when I poured myself my beloved bowl of Special K with berries and was distracted by the general chaos for a moment, and he stuck his big mush in my cereal and quickly sucked down as much as possible.
If you see a brown and white dog running down the street, think twice before taking him in.
It will never happen. He has been left out front several hundred times by the kids and he is always there, nose pressed to the front window, "let me in, I'm hungry."
Enough about the dog.
We had a great Halloween. The kids were over their sicknesses and healthy enough to run the neighborhood and gorge themselves on all the treats they could carry.
We actually let Caleb go on his own with a group of kids this year. We live on a big figure eight and they stayed on the figure eight and were generally somewhere within our view. He thought it was the coolest thing ever. The first taste of freedom and a giant Hershey bar. Life doesn't get much better in the world of a 9 year old.
Stella and Miles actually fizzled out after the first loop and asked to pass out candy instead of walking anymore.
My Mom and Sister dressed up like a witch and vampire and took maybe too much pleasure in scaring the kids that came around.
There was one group of high school boys that were dressed as the Jets from "West side Story" and they came snapping up the driveway only to be stopped in their tracks by Mom and Sister, who soaking wet don't have a combined weight over 150lbs, but apparently make for a mean witch and vampire.
It was a good night. Enjoyed by all. Even the Jets, who eventually worked up the nerve to take candy from the witch.

Just holding onto a moment

This morning I had one of those moments that was just right.
I stood alone in my cleanish kitchen. Clean, if you avoid looking down.
The boys are well and back in school.
Laundry is nearly done.
Dustin stayed home and took Stella to the doctor as she seemed not quite back on track.
I made a cup of tea. It was hot and really good.
The sun is shining really bright in through the windows.
For just a moment everything and everyone was mostly taken care of.
It is moments like this that allow me to keep going.
They may be small and fleeting, but it is usually enough to keep me going.
This just in: Hubby called. Stella has a double ear infection. Yea, something treatable.

The Hiney Flu is Here

We are on day 10 of our battle with the H1N1 flu. This is not a confirmed case. However, our doctor said that is 'probably' what we have going on.
My Grandma calls it the 'heiny flu'. She is pretty much so deaf and has closed caption on her television. When she sees H1N1, she reads it as hini, and calls it the 'heiny flu'.
I think this may be an appropriate name for this flu, as it has indeed been a pain in my heiny.
Caleb was the first to go down, and he went hard. He ran a fever for several days that reached over 103 and was barely effected by Tylenol. He is allergic to ibuprofen, so Tylenol is our only choice. He mostly just slept, and when he woke up he complained that every part of his body hurt. He looked miserable.
Miles fell next, but went down kicking and screaming. He would take his Motrin or Tylenol and then insist he was good to go. I would find him face down in the carpet a few hours later, burning up, but not willing to go to bed. He would just lay on the floor, near his toys, relentless in his need to play. He told me he was 'broken down'.
Stella was, of course, next and has been very high maintenance. Apparently, the heiny flu had an impact on her ability to walk, because I have been carrying her around the house for the past four days. At least I am finally getting some exercise.
I have washed a lot of sheets and blankets, and powered through many containers of Clorox wipes.
I have been in my pajamas for days.
We have a pile of missed homework to plow through this weekend.
If this was indeed the H1N1 virus, I must say, that it was not as bad as I have heard it rumored to be.
We have the luxury of being close with our pediatrician, and being able to call her on a moments notice helped to calm my fears when fevers seemed to go on and on.
We are now in the stage of, still not feeling quite ourselves, but feeling good enough to fight and whine. Super.
I called my neighbor and talked her into going to a bazaar with me tomorrow. I am pretty sure if I don't get out of the house, I will loose it.
So, that is my plan. Get out. Enjoy the company of an adult. Then come home and finish my fight with the heiny flu.

Can you hear me now?

There are all kinds of reasons why I hate going to urgent care. My co-pay is higher, the people in the waiting area seem sicker and the doctors seem like they would rather be just about anywhere else in the world.
So, when Miles stuck a bb in his ear the other night, I quickly weighed my options.
* leave the bb and play dumb until my husband is around to go with him and sit in the urgent care.
* try to fish is out myself.
* heck, the Dyson has some serious suction, I could always......
Although I seriously thought about the vacuum and even held it up to my ear to see if it would hurt, (it kind of did). I thought I would rather go to the urgent care to get a bb out than have to explain why my son had a bb in his ear and his eardrum had been sucked from his head.
Also, the other kids knew about the bb, so I figured they would call me out if I tried to play dumb and pass the job to Dad.
Three hours later after sitting as far as possible from all the mask wearing, feverish, flu symptomatic sickos, we got our call to see the doctor.
She came in and I think she was like 14 years old, and she says, "I hear someone has something suck in their ear, which one of you gets to see my cool 'light-saber'?"
I thought she was kidding, but she made no move towards Miles, so I kindly directed her away from me and toward my 7 year old son.
Really? Do you think they get a lot of adults in the Children's urgent care to have bbs dislodged from their ears? Apparently.
For the record, her 'light-saber' was cool. It was a little wand that glowed so she could see into the ear while she was fishing out the bb.
But then she stumped me again when she handed the glow stick to my son. Which he promptly stuck into his ear.
If he busts his eardrum, they better not charge me another co-pay.

This is the story about why I no longer use the 'silent treatment' when I am angry

In the early years of my marriage I would often use what I thought at the time was a sly punishment when I was arguing with my husband. And in true 7TH grade mean girl fashion I would stop speaking to him.
The silent treatment.
I thought for sure that this was just horrible for him. Having to sit in silence. Without interruption. Watching television without having to listen anything I might have to say.
Hind-sight being what it is, I now realize he probably did something on a Saturday night to make me angry so that he could watch Sunday football without any interruptions or obligation to make husbandly small talk.
I had not yet realized that I was actually rewarding my husband with my lack of ability to share my feelings with him and so was still using this tactic when I saw what I saw.....
On one particular afternoon, still convinced that the silent treatment worked, my husband and I had to leave one of my family functions early to go to a party for a friend of his that I had no desire to attend.
I was very pregnant, very upset, in serious need of a toilet, and then we got lost on our way to the undesirable party.
Cue the silent treatment.
I was done trying to convince him to ask for directions, I was too proud to admit that I had to pee and was going to just let him drive around in circles until we could all agree that he was unreasonable.
I was staring out my window, because that is where you stare when you are riding with someone that you are not speaking to, when I saw it.
A lion. No joke.
A flippin' lion. It was walking along a tree line and appeared to be kind of be stalking something. It was big and I think it was a mountain lion. Seriously.
I said nothing. I was too angry. The silent treatment was in full swing. I just double checked what I saw and said nothing. Too mad to share my lion.
We eventually found our party, I peed, and realized that maybe it was me that was being unreasonable, but I still didn't mention the lion.
The next morning I opened the newspaper to see on the front page a story about a possible lion sighting.
The story reported that a few calls had come into the the police station about a lion. They could not confirm, as no lion had been found.
I called my husband and tried to tell him that I had seen the lion while we were lost and driving around in circles and he was like "okay..., whatever you say crazy pregnant lady."
To this day he laughs and claims he thinks I saw 'something', but the lion only popped into my head after I saw the newspaper article. I don't know if he claims not to believe me just to make me crazy or if he really doubts me.
Oh how the silent treatment bit me in the ass. I chose not to share something really cool in a moment that I was angry about something silly. Bit. Me. In. The. Arse.
My husband pines for the old days of the silent treatment. Now I share how I feel. A lot. Especially during football games.
I try not to hold grudges or get angry about the small stuff.
I actually start sentences with "I want to tell you how it made me feel when..."
The silent treatment did not end immediately after the lion sighting. It took some time to change that habit.
I did change though, and I have the lion to remind me to never hold anything back.
The next time I see a mountain lion in suburban Ohio, someone will hear about it. Immediately. Before the paper picks up the story.

I don't care how thick my skin is, sometimes it just hurts.

A few years back a pediatrician that we had landed with for the moment and thought, for a moment, we were happy with gave me this less than stellar advice..."Miles is just different. He will always be different. So instead of focusing so much on how to change him, you would be better off just growing some thick skin and getting on with it."
I can't remember what my question was that prompted her to say that. I just remember leaving there with my head sort of spinning, wondering if I should take my kids medical files with me now or pick them up later, because I sure as hell wasn't coming back.
Well her advice was crap. Except for maybe the 'grow a thicker skin' part.
I have found that I have stopped noticing as often when people stare or respond in a less than sensitive way to some of Miles' behaviors.
I don't have the time or really the desire to explain to every person that seems uncomfortable around my kid what exactly is going on.
For the most part he pretty much blends right in and save for some random flapping in most situations you wouldn't even be able to tell that he has autism.
So when I got pulled aside a few weeks ago at his gymnastics class to be informed that they did not any longer feel he was a good fit for the class I was shocked and happy for my thickened skin.
It took every ounce of will power and energy I have to not bust out crying as I was being told that the coach running Miles' class wasn't used to working with 'special' kids. Any other coach would love to have him, but this just is not a good fit and could I please get him out of class now and maybe try back another time for another class, where he might fit in better. He is doing great, blah, blah, just not a fit with this class, blah, not fair to the other kids. Ouch.
The worst part was that when I walked up to pull him out of the class he was fully participating, as he had been each week, and had the biggest flippin' smile smeared across his face.
When I asked him to come on because we had to go home, he responded with,"Mom, not now I am doing my gymnastics."
Thick skin or not. That hurt like hell.
My husband met me in the parking lot. He was coming to take over so that I could head off to a curriculum night at school.
He dropped the kids off with his parents and then went back to the gym to let the staff and owner know what we thought of their lack of sensitivity.
We had after all spoken with them before the classes started about our concerns and we were assured it would be fine.
There is just nothing like the disappointment of your own child to break through even the thickest skin.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.....

So here is a little diddy that made me laugh after the fact. I was too stricken with anxiety the day it played out to see any humor in it. Now, I think it's kind of funny.
The first day of school the kiddos and I gathered in the driveway to wait for Miles' school bus. He was anxious. I was a wreck and there was a lot of tension in the air. We were strangely calm and ready early. Way out of character for us. As we stood there in a sort of huddle waiting for the bus, this conversation ensued....
Me: Okay Miles, your bus will be here soon. hand wringing
Miles: No Mom. I no go school. hand wringing
Me: School is fun. liar You will be fine. doubtful
Miles: No Mom. I stay home.
Caleb: It's okay Miles. You get to ride the bus. The bus will be so cool. I wish I could ride a bus to school.
Caleb: whispered to me. I hope it's not a short bus.
Me: Evil glare, but thinking the same damn thing.

Now before you think I am a horrible person let me just tell you this. Do you remember those little jerks that you went to school with? They made fun of you for not having the right outfit and they made fun of your bff for her frizzy hair? Well, they also made fun of the 'short bus'. Well, guess what. Those jerks grew-up and some of them had kids and some of those kids go to school with Miles and I don't want them to have anything on him. Not funny clothes, not goofy hair, no short bus.
In case your curious. The bus was medium. Not full size, but not quite short. And he loves it.

Oh baby, that's some big forehead and some mighty fine artwork.

This post is not about the size of my son's giant forehead as this first picture may imply. It is about the son with the giant forehead and his art work. He took a cool art class this summer that lasted for a week and he just loved it. The classes are run by a small art studio in Uptown Westerville and the kids work on a different project everyday. At the end of the week they get to choose one of their pieces to have framed and then their art is on display at the gallery for a time.



This was his favorite. I seriously thought he traced it at first. The kid has some talent.


Here he is pointing out his Master-piece. He was really proud of himself. Still, he managed to be a goof-ball though.


The piece in the lower left hand corner is also his.

I know it's totally cornball, but it is so awesome to get to see your kid do something that they love and take pride in. He will chatter on about art all day if he can find someone willing to listen. This was his moment, his night, and he really shined. It's good to shine.