How to get waited on hand and "foot"

My father always said I couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time. I would have argued with him, but I was too busy falling on my face. Despite my lack of coordination, I have been pretty lucky. I have only ever broken three bones in my lifetime. The first time I broke a bone, I was in my early twenties; it was my ankle. I was taking the stairs two at a time at work, and rolled my ankle, landing on it, from one step to the ground floor. I broke my foot in three places. (My friends' response to that? "Don't go there, anymore!" Get it? Yeah, it wasn't that funny then, either). After that, over the years, I have broken my little toe, twice. The first time, I hit my son's Rescue Heroes fire truck. The second time, I slammed my toe into the Lego table, and I went one way, the toe went the other. Let me just say: "OW."

Honestly, though, when I twisted my ankle this weekend by taking a wrong step from the sidewalk into the flower bed, it really, really hurt. I have spent the last few days icing it and finally went to the doctor on Tuesday because I feared I had broken my foot. Thankfully, I managed to save the iPad from plummeting to the cement in what would have been a certain death. The fall I took instead was a small price to pay, but I paid dearly. The verdict: severe ankle sprain. I actually pulled some tendons. The doctor gave me a brace and I am supposed to gradually start bearing weight on it. But for now, I am mostly confined to the couch with my foot up while everyone else around me is a whirling dervish trying to accomplish what is day-to-day routine for me: cleaning, cooking, taking care of pets, driving kids where they need to go... You would think I am enjoying this, but I can't. I don't do well being waited upon. And I really don't do well watching other people work and not accomplish things to my standards. So I am constantly getting up to do things, and my family is constantly making me sit on the couch again. Very frustrating.

When I do venture off the couch, it's slow going. I can't walk fast at all, I sort of shuffle around, dragging my bad ankle behind me. Right now, I am looking at a least a few weeks of the "zombie shuffle." So much fun. I sit on the couch, and the cat lies down on the blanket next to me. With the walking stick and the cat I am one shark tank away from being a super-villain, I suppose. I would also like a trap door, please.

Still, all is not lost. At least I match my toenails, now. It's something.

Pity, Party of One, your table is ready

I haven't been very funny lately. I know, I know. you come to this space to find the tongue-in-cheek witticisms to distract you from life, and I have been letting you down. in my defense, things aren't hilarious right now. And, since this space is all about me, it's well, all about me.

What changed, you ask? From the fight with the spider to zombie conversations...what made life So Serious? About a week ago, I realized: This is My Life. Just like that. I actually see it in caps. this is what I live. It is what it is, and it won't really get any better. I won't write the Great American Novel. I won't be rich, or glamorous. I won't rise to the top of the glass ceiling. I know, that doesn't seem that important, and I really don't want to conquer Corporate America. But I still want the option.

When you are young, the world is your oyster. Pearls are there for the taking. At twenty, you aren't a bestselling author..it's ok, there's time. In your forties, Time Is Running Out. You're old. You're washed up. You're irrelevant. Leave it to the youngsters, they have more energy, and why don't you just go and find yourself a nice rocking chair there by the fire? Yeah. NO.

I am usually a fairly positive person, though I bitch a lot. I can always find the "blessing" (how I hate that word..how pious it seems, but really, no better word can be found) in the mess. There is always a silver lining. For example: In 2006, we had a house fire. The structure was still standing, but we lost damn near everything.

We had to move out into a rental for six months, with little more than the clothes on our backs. We found ourselves wandering WalMart at midnight on a Sunday because it was the only store open, and we needed underwear, people! How do you put your life back together after that? We had to buy clothes, and pajamas, and toothbrushes and and and. I was in shock. It was awful. I would never wish the experience upon anyone. BUT. And here is where I am crazy: I was blessed. My faith increased, my family became closer, I learned gratitude. I started over. Now I try to keep only those things that as William Morris put it, "...you find to be useful or believe to be beautiful." And my house was completely redone, from top to bottom. For the first time, I had real bedroom furniture! And dishes that I didn't inherit from my mother! And a home that was completely my style, and brand new everything! And that was the silver lining. I didn't blog about it, the emotions were too raw. In fact, I didn't blog at all for almost two years. That experience helps to keep it all in perspective.

Cut to this last Sunday: I had one of the worst days that I can remember. Right now, JNerd is out of town, along with JBug. It's just me and the two youngers, fending for ourselves. Sunday afternoon, our cat started yowling and lying on the ground. He wouldn't walk, and something was wrong. So to the ER vet we went. Verdict: urinary blockage. LIFE-THREATENING emergency. Exactly the reason that vets exist. The vet needed to do some things that required sedating the cat, so I took the kids to Taco Bell for a quick bite. When I went to start the car, my battery was dead. I had to call AAA to come jump it, and hope that, since it was after hours and I couldn't call the vet, they would be understanding in case I was late. (thankfully, they were, and I wasn't). Because the battery was dead, I had to keep the car running while I picked up the cat. Environment be damned. I wasn't going to get stuck there...I had a sick cat to get the after-hours clinic for overnight treatment. And let me tell you, you haven't lived until you have pumped gas with the engine running for fear if you shut it off you will be stranded.

Finally got home after 9 p.m. and my kids were a wreck. Tucked them in. Made myself a drink and opened my laptop to find: nothing. The screen was black, but I could hear it was on. I tried a whole lot of tech support stuff ("Did you turn it off and one again??") but it was unresponsive.

So, a recap.. cat, battery, computer. It comes in threes right?

My point, people, and I DO have one... that day sucked. The next day sucked as I had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn to get the cat from the Night ER vet to my regular vet. Thankfully, I had my husband's car. Once I did that, I had to get my van to Costco so that they could explain to me why my battery had failed after less than two years. Turns out Costco doesn't install or remove batteries, but it doesn't matter because we don't have yours in stock right now anyway ma'am and there's an auto store down the street that can probably help you, have a nice day. Well. Fine.

I drove my van, which by some miracle started, to Pep Boys (who I cannot say enough nice things about, you guys!) Bought my battery. They took pity on the poor married lady who was abandoned by her husband for greener conventions, and took one look at the small ragamuffin in tow who was heat-bedraggled, and had me in and out of there in fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes! New battery, yay! And, Costco gave me a full refund on my battery that failed.

When I finally got home, and was reflecting upon the events of the last coupIe of days, and it was all feeling a bit like being pecked to death by ducks. Then it hit me... (here is where I get all treacly) I really am blessed. Talk about First World Problems! We had enough money and resources to treat our sick cat. I have an auto club so that I don't get stranded when I have a problem. I have an extra car so that I could get my cat and not rely upon the kindness of my friends. I have enough money to get a new battery, and the resources to get it installed. I am rich compared to much of the world. That thought shut me up. I really have nothing to complain about. No one is dying. These are all transitional worries. I realize how obnoxious this sounds. Who really appreciated when Dad said, "Eat your peas, there are children starving in Africa?" And honestly, I got smacked when I once retorted, "Well, then, send the peas to THEM!" (made sense at the time) I am not telling you to eat your peas. I'm really not. I am telling myself. I am reminding myself that though I just turned forty_ahem ...life is not over. Life is still beautiful. My body may be changing, and my youth may be fading, but life is still good. Life is always good. Sometimes I just forget it for a bit.

As I write this, the cat is still at the vet, and will probably be ok. It will just be expensive. And I hate having to spend the money. But I love the fact that I have the resources to make the decisions that are required. I am not loaded monetarily by any means. It will be a stretch and we may eat cheese sandwiches for dinner for a bit. (more or less) but I am rich, in all the ways that count. And that revelation? Is priceless.

It's Never a Good Day to Say Goodbye

Last week, I said goodbye to a dear friend, Gregg Gallagher. He was a sweet man with a quick wit and an easy smile. He put the "social" in my "social media." He was the first person I met on twitter, and one of the first people I met in person from "the Cloud." (Not everyone is an ax murderer or an imaginary unicorn!) I attended a few meet-ups that he attended as well. Gregg was a connector. He enjoyed his friends, and he enjoyed creating circles of friends around him. He hosted potlucks, and Rock Band sessions...epic Rock Band sessions. We laughed, and ate and drank...and it was good. Because of him, I have a wonderful circle of friends. That's who Gregg was.

Before Christmas, he was diagnosed with cancer. He fought, and it looked like he was winning. But it continued to progress, quickly. A few months ago, we got together for a Rock Band party that none of us knew was going to be our last. Soon after, he was in the hospital. We visited him. He never went home again. He was transferred to a rehab facility, and though JNerd and I were able to visit him a few times there, he finally went to hospice in his son's home. I had hoped to visit him there, but he died soon afterwards. I regret that I didn't get to spend time with him there...it all happened so fast!

He was a champion of social media, and few know that he was instrumental in bringing the internet to AT&T in the beginning. World Net was his baby, along with his team. His team won an award that sits in the Smithsonian because of it. He was the one who turned me on to the iPad. I was the one who talked him into getting his greyhound, Ares. "You need a dog, Gregg," I said.

Gregg's hobby was photography. I loved the way he saw the world. He helped me with my camera, and got me excited about taking pictures. Just after he died, I saw this picture again. The finality in it made me ache.

photo by Gregg Gallagher
The copy from the above photo is: "You may have gone back to school, but you'll be missing me come Spring Break."

You don't know how right you were, Gregg.
Last Saturday dawned warm and sunny. The perfect California day. We boarded a boat with some of Gregg's closest friends, who, because of Gregg, became our friends as well, and we laid him to rest. Afterwards, we had a luncheon at the Bluewater Grill, complete with a Guinness and some calamari for Gregg.

No one touched his Guinness.

To you, my friend. May you be at peace.

Help for Christchurch after Earthquake

On Tuesday, Christchurch, New Zealand, one of the five largest cities in the country, was rocked by a 6.3 earthquake that caused buildings to collapse, leaving hundreds trapped and sixty-five dead, as of last count. Several aftershocks have left more damage in their wake, and the people of Christchurch sit on pins and needles waiting for what’s to come.

Last September, a series of earthquakes tore through Christchurch, weakening buildings, but little else. This time, the damage is far and widespread. Buildings that have been standing for hundreds of years have crumbled under the weight of this quake. Large cracks in the roads have appeared. California? This? Could be US.

I know, not my usual upbeat, humorous piece. But you see, I was just in Christchurch, last year. I fell in love with the historic old city, and I am so saddened to see what has happened there. And what do politically conscious, social media types do when we feel like we can’t do anything? We write. We publicize. So.

If you feel that you might want to help, you can give to the

Red Cross NZ

if you want to follow trends on twitter:

#eqnz
#christchurch
#NewZealand
#NiewZeeland (Dutch)
And I, for one, will remember my beloved Christchurch like this:


















In time, buildings can be rebuilt. The people of Christchurch? Well, that's another thing entirely.
T.

September is over, why didn't anyone wake me up?

I pretty much hibernated for the last month after I came home from New York. With the migraines, school starting and the planning associated with that little venture, we had some other unexpected events to deal with as well. Which, of course, I will blog as I get back into the swing of things. And I? Just bugged out. I needed to take a break, to recuperate from life, and come back to blogging renewed. So, if you will still have me, I am back. So buy me a drink, pass me the mike, cause Radio Tee is back on the air. Ok, not really. I am just blogging again. But you can still buy me a drink. I missed you. You look great in that. Have you lost weight? What? Do I want to go somewhere? Let's take it slow, have some conversation, and then see where that leads. Tina

Lullabye and good night, already..before I lock you in a closet*

I used to have alone time. It was wonderful. Nine o' clock rolled around and my kids were in bed. Oops, sorry! You have five minutes until bedtime. No I can't help it, that's the rule. As though it wasn't within my control. And they bought it. Never questioned it, it was a House Rule, and they would obediently trot off to bed. I was blessed. Until this year.

My oldest daughter, at 16, thinks she can stay up as late as she wants. There are times I go to bed in exasperation, telling her to lock up when she's done. Mostly, she stays out of our way, so out of sight is out of mind. Mostly. Now my son, He Who Used to Sleep by 9, is up past 10 as well. Puberty may be striking, and it is playing havoc with his sleep schedule. He used to be up with the sun, now he actually sleeps in a few days a week. But he is also not tired at bedtime, and too busy to follow the slumber rules. Trying to get him off of video games or to stop reading a book is damn near impossible. And when I do finally get him to go to bed (tonight was quite after 11) he gets up at least five times.

Tonight was no exception. I was being tag-teamed by the both of them.Finally, after medicine to help JBug's bug bites, a question or three, she finally left us alone enough to get through the television show we had on DVR.(Doctor Who, thank you very much). By that time, it was midnight. AND…the dog needed to go out. Pause the show, again. Then JBear showed up,with a broken fingernail, and needed a bandaid. And shortly after that, he needed Advil because his legs hurt. And a bit after that, he needed a drink. And then the bathroom. And, of course, each time, we paused the show and waited.

I don't know about you, but my Mom Sense just cannot relax as long as I have a kid who isn't tucked in for the night. Call it obsessive, call it anxiety-prone, if you'd like. I call it being on duty, 24/7. And I cannot let go. I have tried. But Mama Bear just stays at the ready. Once the little cubs are safe in their dens, I relent, breathe deeply, and have a martini. Of course, if they don't get into bed before midnight… no cocktails for me. And no cocktails makes for a very unhappy mama.

And, as the old adage goes, "If mama ain't happy, well you can just get your butt back to bed or so help me God, I won't be responsible for what happens next." Or something along those lines. I could be paraphrasing, but that's how I remember it, anyway.

*I am only kidding about that last part. Mostly.

How about you? How do you get your "alone time?"Click and tell me in comments

T, who is up way too late in order to get some time to herself

Some Days Just Work

Today I:

Bought:

• a pinch collar for the puppy. (she does really well on walks, but every once in a while will pull quite hard, so I want to train her to stop doing that, it hurts)


• a training lead, gives longer line for teaching the pup to come when called


• a tie-out, for when we are in the front yard, so the pup can be with us, too


• 3 birds of paradise, 5 asiatic lilies and some poppy seeds, some gloves, a kid's wheelbarrow, a dirt hauler, some gloves, a shovel.


• a mission-style, glider bench for outdoors


• a bbq grill, with and for JNerd.

Created:

• two really good walks with the dog...training, she did well with the collar
• a beauteous yard. No! Really, I did. I know, I have a brown thumb, but I am trying. Getting better!


• a calming space with the assembly of the gliding rocker bench.
• dinner. Or rather, I soaked the corn and dressed the sausages once JNerd finished grilling them.


• three very-satisfied and relaxed children, courtesy of said bench. JBean was almost rocked to sleep on it. JBug used it to calm herself, and JBear sat outside tonight and read for a while.

I don't especially like the manual labor of gardening, but I surely like the results. And just looking at the yard now lowers my blood pressure. I didn't grow up with parents who had a green thumb. My mother worked full time and really didn't have the time to garden. Our yard was a horse pasture with...well, horses. In the summertime, the mustard plants would grow waist-high and my brother and I were charged with pulling the weeds that absolutely took over. It was back-breaking work, and I hated it. So, gardening left a sour taste in my mouth. Add to that, the fact that I was known for killing succulents, and I wasn't impressed with my gardening ability. It would appear, though, that I am getting better. Maybe.

Job well-done.

How about you?

T, who had a very productive weekend

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KaBoom! I built a playground!

Yesterday I had the privilege of participating in the Kaboom! playground build in Inglewood. In case you haven't heard of KaBoom!, it's a non-profit organization that builds playgrounds in neighborhoods. They provide support and guidance, as well as lining up corporate sponsors for communities who want to build a playspace or upgrade their playground equipment.

In an all-day build, members of communities are able to completely transform a site into a playground. This time, we performed a badly needed upgrade, from equipment that wasn't safe for play. From 9-3 over 220 people from the City of Inglewood, Los Angeles Fire Department, Youth Build and a crew of mom bloggers, of which I was one, descended on Inglewood with one goal: create a great space for kids. Center Park in Inglewood is now the proud owner of the resulting playground. In the space of seven hours, playground equipment was built, including a large climbing structure with climbing wall and bridges, slide and swings. Seven tons of concrete were mixed, two tractor-trailerfuls of mulch was shoveled (some of it by me and JBug!) and moved onto the playground.

Local artist, Julian created an amazing table and benches for the playground, with an urban flair. Julian creates art through a program at his school, which offers community service on weekends. With Reverend Run attending with his wife and daughters, 220 volunteers and local school children watched and cheered at the ribbon cutting ceremony concluding the build.

KaBoom has built 1748 playgrounds, and Koolaid has sponsored 26 of those builds. KaBoom wants to help your community, too. What can you do? You can map the playgrounds in your area and provide pictures. You can get support and information in starting your own community build. You can donate money. And yes, you can even join a local build. KaBoom! has a vision: a safe place to play within walking distance for every child. It's a huge undertaking, and they need our help.

This was one of the most rewarding things I have done in a long time, and I recommend attending a build if you have the opportunity. Not only will you have an amazing experience, you will also be left with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment.

Here is the collaborative Whrrl story:

More check-ins at KaBOOM KoolAid Playground Build

Powered by Whrrl

What is your favorite piece of playground equipment?

T, who likes the swings the best

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I am tired of banging my head against your Wall. I think I'll just sit here outside until you let me in.

He left me, and it wasn't a midnight train to Georgia

See this?

I don't have one (which is my own danged fault, I just didn't "get around to it"...too busy with the tyranny of the urgent. I mean, it's not like I want to spend time taxiing, cleaning, fretting, feeding instead of standing in line at the post office to get a passport...) so my husband, the paper in my birdcage, pepperoni on my pizza, hopped a plane,trying to be suitably contrite, alone and went here:

without me, for a computer convention...for a week

leaving me with these

on my own...for a week

and ready for this? he won't be back until evening on Mother's Day!

that's right, he is missing Mother's Day, completely. I have already called a do over, because? Yeah.

AND? he better get me something realllly good for our anniversary (the big 2-0) later this summer.

are you reading this, honey? Remember when you went to France and brought home a magnet for me? So do I! We aren't talking magnets here...no repeats! Put up, or shut up, right? (and have fun!)

T, who gets Mom o' the Year FTW

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How I Became Mostly Sane, Or At Least Faked It Real Good

It's official, today I was deemed mostly sane. By mutual agreement, I ended therapy with my therapist today. I had been seeing her three times a month for over a year. Why? Well, when you have this happen, and then, within a year, this and this.. it helps to have someone to talk to.

I am pretty well-adjusted, but even mostly sane people need someone to talk to about life now and again. I really believe in therapy. My therapist was my sounding board; I could tell her things I cannot say out loud, about autism, about my children. It felt safe. But though I enjoyed those times, I haven't felt any urgency to attend for a while, now. I am doing well.

Originally, after the fire, JBean started seeing her, because we didn't know if the behavior we were seeing was trauma from the fire or if she had autism. She never really clicked with the therapist, who was a wonderful woman. JBean just never opened up to her...part of her personality is closed to those she doesn't know. There are times that I don't know my daughter well, either, though as her mother you would think it would be easier. I understood the lack of progress. So once they reached an impasse, the therapist recommended perhaps pursuing evaluation for JBean, which we had planned to do, and had told the therapist about. And I took over the spot and continued therapy.

It helped me get a handle on the feelings with diagnosis, and gave me permission to feel how absolutely much it sometimes sucks to have children with autism. I was able to explore how overwhelmed I felt, and the grief that threatened to paralyze me as I walked the road of autism diagnosis once again. I didn't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings, and I was able to work out my emotions with fear and trembling, and know the world wouldn't come to an end. Because that was always an option before...

I have always been strong, and I know that. I have survived circumstances that would have crippled others. That's not bragging, that's fact. You know if it doesn't kill you, it just makes you stronger. But I have always had a secret fear that I would someday fall apart and end up in a rubber room somewhere. I am not really sure where it came from, but I know I have felt it since I was a teenager. The dread of the other shoe falling has always been something that could stop my heart. There are times I feel like a beautiful crystal goblet, precious and transparent, but one high C can shatter my butt all over the floor.

About ten years ago, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder based upon past history (and the fact that I was watching Oprah and saw myself in the stories, went to my doctor who took one look at my out-of-control anxiety at that point and referred me to a psychiatrist.) I started medication, and it didn't take much at all to regulate me. Seriously, almost nothing. Over the years, I found I don't need medication at all, with cognitive behavior therapy, diet, exercise and better ways to control anxiety. In fact, my therapist has serious doubts that I was ever bipolar, and I am starting to doubt it, too. Maybe it was another case of seeing hoofprints and looking for zebras again. Maybe there really are horses that leave prints in my house. It's certainly better than the elephant under the coffee table that used to live in my house as a child.

I come from a very dysfunctional family, and yeah, I know, we all do. But, I made a conscious choice to change the patterns in my own family. And I have. In my home, we communicate. We let others know when we are happy, sad, pissed off. We talk through it, not just stuff it under a mattress. We apologize and take ownership when we screw up. We voice what we need. We have healthy relationships, but it isn't without effort. I don't suffer fools gladly, especially those who refuse to acknowledge problems. Life is too short not to just look it bold in the face and just fix it. This is why I live far away from my family. I love them, and want to keep it that way.

And this is why I no longer need to see a therapist. I'm ok. I can handle life without worrying I am going to fall apart. I trust myself now, perhaps I always did, I just needed to know it. So, life can get in the way, but I am ready. Nothing a Starbucks mocha or a blueberry vodka & tonic can't fix. Want to join me?

T, who wishes I could bottle the confidence I feel and sell it, I would be rich

How about you? How do you take care of yourself?

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Forget Botox, Autism Keeps Me Young

When I try to explain what autism is like, 70% of the time, I come up with, "Like your life, only a little bit louder." meaning, like in Spinal Tap, the amp went to 11, which was one more than 10.

My kids are just...more. And that probably makes me sound like some sort of egotistical "beep." as my 7 yr old daughter says, meaning, "bitch." (yes, my 10 yr old son taught her that...wasn't that kind of him?) She only says, "beep," though, for censoring. But I don't mean it that way. Here's the deal: Somehow, my kids are more than others' kids. But I truly don't know how else to explain it. I am not competitive, I don't want to be the worst or the best. But they really are... They are harder, more challenging, more colorful, more off-the-wall and more frustrating than neurotypical kids, I believe. They make me cry, want to pull out my hair, crawl into a hole. And that's often just the first two hours of the day.

But you know what? I wouldn't trade them. They are funny, they make me laugh in great big guffawing waves. They surprise me daily. And...I am never bored...they keep me young.

Don't believe me?

Who else do you know that:

• talks for stuffed animals regularly, including for my son's stuffed raccoon, every night before bed. Of course, each animal has a different voice.
• Regularly makes up silly walks and quotes Python
• enjoys taking goofy pictures more than the real portraits

• has a karaoke machine in her house, and uses it
• makes faces as a general rule (still hoping one day it really will "stick like that")
• bursts into song and/or dance at inopportune times. Haven't I told you, I am the star of my very own musical!
• makes terrible, terrible puns
• quotes movies often, depending upon the circumstances
• makes fart jokes, complete with noises
• races shopping carts
• sings LOUDLY, some random bit of song
• comes up with nonsense words..we have an entire vocabulary of spendomous marattels.
• can burp louder than anyone
• beeps noses, tickles tummies, wet willies
• gleefully embarrasses my teenager (oh wait, most parents do that, never mind)
• makes submarine noises while driving

Why? I like to make my children laugh. Laughing keeps things less stressful, so in a sense, I guess it is a defense mechanism. It is also a whole lot of fun. And really, isn't life too short to take seriously, all the time?

T, who figures we only get one chance, why waste it moping or lamenting what it might have been

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