Autism is a vampire and it sucks out your soul

Today was promotion Sunday, an annual event through our homeschool group. It is usually a big deal with all the kids going up to receive their promotion certificates, and graduates of both the eighth grade and high school. I don't have any pictures; we barely managed to get there. Today was one of THOSE days. Those who have kids with autism will understand. We just keep on, keeping on, trying not lose ourselves.

My son is twelve, going on sixteen, he thinks. He has a real problem with being told what to do.

every interaction between us seems to go like this:

Me: polite request
Him: protest
me: again,with the polite request
Him: "logical" reason why he should not comply
me: a bit more forceful request
Him: complaints about how I think he is stupid/difficult/it's not his fault, it's mine
me: [frustration ensues...either walk away and take a deep breath or yell]
Him: [depending upon what I do] yells at me, how I am such an idiot and I don't get it..
me: come back,and try again, cajole/plead/explain why he would do whatever it is I wanted him to do in the first place
Him: [grudging compliance]

Part of the problem is that he and my youngest are absolutely oil and water these days. JBean, my youngest, is usually a very happy little girl. Unfortunately, this extends to her high-pitched voice, often singing, or talking, incessantly. It makes my JBear, my son, crazy. He starts lashing out, and getting on edge, and will say mean things to her about can't she just shut up, and her voice is driving him crazy...hurtful things. She doesn't know how to fight back verbally (nor should she learn...he is out of line) so she does one of two things. She will either hit him, or yell at him. Neither of these things are particularly useful in dealing with him, and often make things worse. Where am I, you ask? Probably the bathroom, or taking the dog out, or loading the dishwasher....I cannot be in their face 100% of the time. They have to learn not to aggravate one another. Of course, when there are problems, I am always right there. Often the damage is done.

My son has no remorse. I realize this is part of his autism, no matter how high-functioning it may be. The lack of mirror neurons that allow empathy are definitely a hindrance for him. As a teenager, his cerebral cortex is not quite connected to his brain. He is in fight or flight, all the time...he sees the entire world as against him. He is rarely sorry, and doesn't think he ever does anything wrong. He does not admit mistakes and generally has a self-absorbed entitlement attitude. I did not raise him this way, and am still trying to fix it. Often, I feel like I am banging my head against a wall. I know he is trying...but he just has such a long way to go. I feel like I am not helping him much. I seem to be the problem, as far as he is concerned. He is oblivious to his role in the whole mess.

Today, while I was trying to finish in the kitchen, he was having a hard time with his sister. Everyone ended up yelling at everyone else, and I had had enough. JNerd tries to out yell them, and it doesn't work. I told them all I was not going to live like this anymore; I have had it. We weren't going today, not with the way they were acting. So I decided to take a drive for a bit, to cool down. After about ten minutes, I came back, a bit calmer. Apparently, all hell had broken loose while I was gone. My son had tried to goad my husband into a physical altercation. He hit my husband, as hard as he could. Apparently, it was side-stepped, and I was able to defuse the situation. We ended up going to the ceremony, and everyone was on their best behavior.

When we returned home, I tried talking to my son, and he was not receptive at that point. He hates to be called out on his behavior, and will deflect as much as he can. I stayed calm for the most part, and finally was able to get through to him, for now. Eventually, my son did admit he was wrong, but it was several hours later.

Remember, on top of this, I also deal with a younger one who was diagnosed with autism, as well. She has her own issues, usually pertaining to transitions, change, rigidity, anxiety and MamaMustBeThereAtAllTimes. The worse he gets, the more she clings to me. The more unrest in our home the more she clings to me. She tries so hard, but she has a hard time coping at times. That means relying upon me, more often than not.

I am DRAINED. Exhausted, and really questioning every decision for my children I have made thus far. I am hoping tomorrow will bring more clarity. So tonight, I sleep. And pray and hope that I figure out what I am doing wrong. Autism is hard. Teen boy is hard. Putting the two together: feels insurmountable. My migraines have gotten more frequent and worse. I don't sleep well. I am, so far, staving off the depression that threatens to crush me. (I eat well and exercise, both help) But so help me, if I survive his growth into manhood, I hope it is with my soul intact.

Stuck

I have deleted every first sentence I have tried to write for a month. Nothing I write is good enough, witty enough or explains what goes on in my brain enough. I am feeling frustrated...I am well and truly blocked.

So today, I decided I am just going to write, stream of consciousness, and publish. If none of you read it, that's ok with me...I just have to get something out there.

---------------------------**********

All of your life you have battled perfectionism. The more you succeed, the more pressure you feel to continue succeeding or face the thing you fear most in life: failure. Yes, you know failure is a normal part of the creative process; indeed a normal part of living. And on the surface, you can talk a good game. You Know failure is often the path to success, and that you are not a bad person if you fail. You even know that failure depends upon how you define it. Thomas Edison is purported to have said he didn't fail 99 times creating the light bulb, he simply found 99 things that didn't work, bringing him closer to that thing which would. On the surface, it sounds great. But it doesn't quell the anxiety regarding climbing higher and then going splat when you fall.

If success is a Tree, you are stuck sitting in it, and there is no K.I.S.S.I.N.G there. Eventually, you grew tired of the vertigo when you looked down, so you stopped climbing. Oh, you made some lateral jumps here and there, but you pretty much remain safely ensconced on the sturdiest branch. When you look up, you see, high above, teetering in the wind, that all elusive *SUCCESS*...whatever that looks like. And along the way are some perilous branches that would rather break under your weight than support your journey towards the top. So, like the smart primate you are, you found the most comfortable spot and camped here. While others climbed to the top of their tree, towering above all, you sat. While they mastered the tree, and then whole forests, you sat, content in the safety of where you were. While others planted seedlings that grew into saplings and finally towered over the rest of the arboreal layer, you watched, convincing yourself that where you were was the most comfortable place; chasing dreams was impractical, and with one ill wind they would come crashing to the ground. You could not help feel a small prickling of envy. You shut it out.

So what does that mean? Simply this:

You are tired of working to make other people money. The only money made by "content farms" and "featured blogger" sites is made by the owners of the sites. The money doesn't trickle down to the writers. They work hard and get little in return. Most "Brands" don't have respect for bloggers; they seem to think bloggers will work for nothing. P.R. firms send out mass emails figuring bloggers will jump at whatever meager offer they send , because bloggers are just housewives anyway, and free stuff is cool. They really have no idea what to do with bloggers. Along the way, some P.R. firm will throw a couple of tickets your way that you might not have been given if not for your internet presence, and so you feel validated. At least for a while. You try to maintain your integrity, and only focus on what might be a good "fit" so that the writing is the focus. And you write. Or at least, try to write.

The currency in social media is renown, but it doesn't pay the bills. At the end of the day, what do you have? A blog that everyone knows, sure. Here's the thing: Other sites have steadily eroded the traffic of blogs. Conversations take place across platforms now, and the instant gratification of blog comments is mostly gone for all but a handful of the top bloggers. And what keeps you going? Maybe this post...this idea that you must share...will be the one to catapult you to Internet Fame, and then the endorsements and syndicated column and book deals will come rolling in. Only, it doesn't happen. You've lost sight of why you started writing in the first place; before book publishers even knew blogs existed. You wrote. Because you loved it.

You have been blogging since most of the big names have. Over time, you have watched many of them get book deals, and each time, you died just a bit more inside. You always fancied yourself a writer. At almost 45, you are not saying that anymore. You are just some housewife with an internet connection and a keyboard. Nothing more.

What sets the big players apart? They know something you don't. They have to be visible. They promote themselves. They TELL people how good they are. And the more they say it, the more they believe it, and others believe it, too. They pitch companies and write book proposals. They have a plan. You? You don't work that hard. You only ever wanted to write, not sell yourself. Besides, you were always taught that good girls don't brag on themselves; they let their work do the speaking for them. That's your problem to overcome, and you really haven't. Somewhere deep inside, you still feel like you are not good enough, that you don't deserve what others have And because you cannot get past that hurdle, you cannot succeed.

Which brings you to where you are right now: sitting on the sturdy branch, In a tree that you never really wanted to climb in the first place, with no idea how to get down, resenting those who have mastered the game before you ever even knew the rules.

------------------------ ****

My blog has become a "have to" not a "want to." It has caused my anxiety to rise at the mere thought of trying to type a collection of words and hope they make some semblance of sense. It has become a slap in the face, a reminder of what I have not accomplished. I have no idea how to make it fun again, but I am not willing to abandon it completely. Much like an errant child, or a disobedient dog, deep down, no matter how much it pisses me off, I still love it.

Talking Sex with your Son who has Autism...and not wanting to jump off a bridge afterwards. Mostly.

I had “The Talk” with my son. We both survived, barely. He is twelve now, and I know what you’re thinking: WHY are you just now having this discussion with him? Do you live under a rock? Don’t you know what kids are capable of getting into these days? Do you want your kid to be a statistic?

Believe me, I get it. But you have to understand…I have tried to have The Talk with my son before this, many times. Each time, he politely rebuffed me.

My son has High-Functioning Autism. It is as the name implies. Some professionals call it Asperger’s Syndrome. It means he has trouble with social cues, reading body language, some processing problems as well as trouble controlling his impulses, like anger. He is easily embarrased, so it didn’t surprise me that he did not want to discuss his burgeoning sexuality with his mother. This is the kid who hides his eyes if I take him with me to mall and we happen to pass the lingerie store. There have been no shortage of attempts on my part to usher him into the ways of the world. He always swore he was not interested.

So when I found that he had been googling, “penis” and “breasts” I figured, protest though he may, it was time. I am a smart woman. I have safe search on, so he didn’t find anything except Wikipedia pages…no trauma. I get that kids, boys in particular, can be curious. I am just thankful that no damage was done! And I am also grateful that I have enough technical savvy to know how to lock down the computers!

So, how do you talk with your son about something you both find highly embarrassing without losing your mind? The answer, it seems, is just do it. Do not make a big deal about it.

Five Ways to Discuss The Subject Without Wanting to Run and Hide

1. Be as matter-of-fact as you can. Lay out the information without a lot of emotion, as though you were tutoring someone who speaks a different language. We are talking autism here. That is, after all, what you are doing.

2. Refrain from idioms, editorializing, and heavy opinion. All of these will be ignored by a kid with autism. He probably won’t get most of them, anyway. It is easy to get “on a roll” and end up losing the kid halfway through the process.

3. Don’t bother asking, “Do you understand?” He probably won’t admit it either way. Just lay out the information as best you can. If you are good at reading your child, you can elaborate if need be.

4. This is a good time to explain society’s views on women, respect, pornography…just try to do it without making the kid feel belittled. Did I like that my son googled body parts? NO. Did I tell him I don’t want him to do it anymore? YES. Did I make him feel like a bad person? Absolutely not. Kids need guidance, and that’s what I gave him.

5. Refrain from what I call “Aesoping” even though it is very satisfying as a parent. This is basically when you say, “I told you so!” Kids learn from their experiences. You can certainly point out the learning, but don’t rub their nose in it. That only serves to make you feel bigger than he is. One-upping a child doesn’t make us better, it makes us bullies. And with a kid with autism, it makes him shut down.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no Pollyanna. It’s not all roses and sunshine around here. I was floored when I found out my son had been …exploring google. It wasn’t easy. But instead of making it about me, and my parenting, and what I am doing right or wrong, I made it about my son. Having a child going through puberty is difficult. I can only hope I have set the groundwork for my son, and that if he does have questions later he can ask instead of looking in all the wrong places for answers.

All in all, it was a painless process for us both. But I have to admit: I am very glad that I only have one son! Somehow, talking to the girls is just so much easier.

The Easter Bunny needs a new job, pretty sure he is over this egg-thing

Today dawned cold and rainy. I think there is some confusion as to our locale, hello? If I wanted to live in the Pacific NorthWET, I would move to Seattle, which is about as cool and hip as you can get, if you don't mind being a duck and/or being suicidal wet the majority of the time.

I personally do not like being either, so I live in beautiful, sunny (hello?!) Southern California. So.
Anyway...the bunny decided he doesn't like moist fur, so he waited until after noon to hide the eggs. And he was sneaky. I sent JNerd out out with JBean to get cookies for Easter brunch with our extended family. Then with the help of JBug, the eggs were "dealt with" and placed just so. Then I left in the van with JBug and JBear, calling JNerd so that he could return and she could "find" the bunny's handiwork. I came right back because I "forgot my wallet." Mission accomplished. I don't have one picture because I was protecting my camera from the wet conditions. But take my word for it, she had fun.

Afterwards, we headed over to my sister-in-law's who generously hosts all 18 of us for brunch. My ultra-cool brothers-in-law supplied amazing cocktails, which always makes things better. Good food, good conversation...I am very fortunate to have the family that I do. There is no way I can get a picture of all of us, so here are a few of the kids.

Happy Easter, to you and yours!!

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.

Another reason I haven't blarged

a week ago today I was bitten on the arm by a dog. I cannot type much, so will be back when it heals in a few days. Miss me!


T.

Is this the blues or Spring Fever?

I don't know what's wrong with me, I just can't seem to keep my blog updated lately. I am not particularly depressed, but I am a bit burnt out, so that has something to do with it, no doubt. I am just not feeling it.




It just finished raining for two days here, with a break yesterday. Now it is raining again. I don't really like the rain, it's depressing. I don't know why, it just is. I am a sun kid, all the way. It is why I live in Southern California. I think I have always been very sensitive to weather.

When JNerd and I were first married, he had an opportunity to work for Microsoft. (this was before they were Uber-Evil) and I just knew I could not do Seattle weather. It rains there, what? 200 days out of the year? I would be suicidal in six months. We opted to stay in Southern California, and I think we are both very happy we did so. There are certainly trade offs. For the cost of our house here, we could have a mini-mansion in almost any other state. (Except Reston, VA, which is the only other place I ever considered moving..when JNerd worked for AOL years ago. The homes there cost as much as they do here, due to being so close to Washington D.C.)

Every once in a while, I see pictures of the seasons in other states that my friends post on facebook and think, "Wow, maybe we want that. The newf would love that weather!" And then I remember as a kid, watching my mother curse the snow and ice in Alaska as she bundled up and threw hot water on her car windshield, trying to get the ice to melt. I remember her chipping away with an ice scraper. I recall my dad, endlessly shoveling snow so that we could move the car, and I know I really don't want to deal with any of that!




So, here is where we stay. The weather is temperate, the people in my city are nice, and I like it here. I don't like the political climate, but unless I move to Vermont or Berkeley, that's not likely to change. I've learned to live with it, and bite my tongue...a lot.

I am not saying we would never move; if JNerd's job took us out of state, we would go. But this is home. It is the only home the kids have ever known. I have been here half my life now, but I am not bored. I am still finding areas I don't know. It is very easy to do so since the concentration of cities is so dense. Google Maps is a lifesaver! I am still learning city names, believe it or not!

Love it or leave it, it's home. And while the sky may let loose, I know the rain will soon come to an end, and it won't require a snow shovel, or boots or wool socks. So all of you out there in Maine, and Wyoming, and Nova Scotia, though I admire your pictures, I will live where my toes stay relatively warm!

T. who has cold feet, but a warm nose T.

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.

A Morning with my Eldest

Teenagers R Hard.
T.
cartoon: xkcd

What the hell was I thinking?

Seems I am always apologizing for not writing more often these days. I have a really, really good excuse this time, though. So be nice to me, I am an emotional basket case currently.




Poppy, my Newfoundland, is now 13 months old, and it was time for her to be spayed. I did all due diligence, and trust my vet implicitly. We decided, at the same time, to do what is known as a "gastropexy" which is basically a stomach tack. The stomach is moved about 1.5 inches, and stitched to the abdominal wall. It sounds barbaric, but I assure you, it is actually helpful. Some background:

Broad-chested dogs can have a problem that we refer to as "bloat." This means that the stomach fills with gas, and cannot escape. Often when this happens, the stomach twists, which is called torsion. It cuts off the blood supply and you have roughly a half-hour to get the dog to the vet, or you are going to lose her. Bloat is a concern, because we really don't know what causes it. Some say elevated feeding bowls, some say bowls on the floor. Too much water, stress... there are many thoughts, but no one really can pinpoint which dog will suffer from it. So while we had her there for her spay, we went ahead and had the gastropexy done, as well. If it keeps her alive, it was worth it.

Now that you know that, you will better understand the next part. The day we brought her home, within two hours I could tell she was in pain. So I drove the 30 minutes back to the vet's office to get her medicine. That first night, she was drugged out of her mind, but didn't have a lot of pain. By Friday, she had some pain but it seemed mostly controlled. She wouldn't stop licking, so we bought a "cone of shame" and put it on her for nighttime, since we couldn't watch her while we were sleeping. The rest of that night, she would alternatively wake up crashing around, or just stand and refuse to lie down. For two nights now, I have been awoken with an adrenalin rush because she refuses to settle for long. I am exhausted. Luckily, today is Saturday, and JNerd let me sleep in once the dog finally collapsed into sleep.




Skip to now. Today, Saturday, she is in pain. Panting, and standing, pacing a bit. She is eating, so that's good. I drove to the vet's office again and picked up an anti-inflammatory, to try bring down the swelling. Poor thing will lie down, and then jump back up quickly. I think the incision or the razor burn are very uncomfortable. If she isn't better tomorrow, I will be bringing her to the vet. She is absolutely NOT herself, at all. I wish there was more I could do. Her meds are delivered via vanilla ice cream, the thing she loves more than anything in the world. At least there is that bright spot in all of this. But honestly?

I am worried.
T.

How do I stay sane?

"Mama HOW do you stay sane?" My eldest asked me this today after a marathon day that included my twelve-year old's belligerence, my youngest's obsessive behavior, a glitter mishap that looked like a fairy crime scene, fits, complaints and just overall needneedneed. I looked at her and said, "I drink." Of course I was joking. Luckily, she knew it, too.




But I started thinking, how do I remain sane in the face of two with autism, one who is turning into a testosterone-infected teenaged boy before my very eyes? Sometimes, it isn't easy. I guess I have a choice, you know? I can fall apart and cry, rail at the universe, and curl up in a fetal position (which I do end up doing upon occasion). Or? I can just take deep, cleansing breaths, try to give hugs, and get on with my day. Hugs are a stretch for me. I am not a touchy-feely person by nature. I tend to ball up into my shell when I am feeling stressed. But God, in his infinite humor, sent me a child who needs that closeness. If she is feeling on-edge, that is the first thing she wants. Me? I want quiet solitude. Funny how kids stretch us.

How do I remain sane? I take time for myself, no matter what. Even if it is just five minutes, stolen in the bathroom ("The door is NOT a speaker!") or the rendition of my favorite song by the Pogues. I close my eyes, and just...be. For sometimes 30 seconds at a time. But it gets me through.

How do I remain sane? When my husband is home, I take the dog to the dog park, 5 days a week, sometimes 6. It is the place I feel happiest. I like the people there, and I like watching the dogs. It keeps my dog tired and content. It is my stress relief. When he isn't home, I load up the kids and the dog, and go walking in a nearby park. It isn't nearly as relaxing, listening to the litany of questions, comments and obervations from a nice-year-old who is just never quiet, but it is easier than being at home.

How do I remain sane? This helps, a lot:

My daughter is a pain in the back (side)

I need a pass. A pass for not updating my blog in..what? Three weeks? I really haven't written anywhere in that span of time. You see, when your daughter has back surgery, it kind of puts a crimp on all plans, and definitely slows down your best intentions to put fingers to keyboard. In the scheme of pain pills, logrolling and personal servanting, it just doesn't compare. But, I am back, and will try to be a better blogger. The surgery went well, and with my JBug's permission, I am sharing some of her story here. You may recall that she has scoliosis. We didn't find the curve until February of last year. In that time, it progressed fairly quickly, and when we went in for a recheck in May, it was at 63 degrees. They do surgery for anything over 30, so you can see what the options were. After a second opinion, it was clear she was headed for surgery. We chose to have the surgery done before Christmas, because we were trying to make sure she was recovered enough to attend the trip to Kenya our church was hosting. After the surgery was scheduled, the church cancelled the trip for this year. But the wheels were set in motion, and we decided to move forward. She had her surgery at CHOC, in Orange. They were wonderful, calming


her fears with a hospital tour, answering any questions that we had. The big day arrived, and with the addition of a new pink and black fleur-de-lis blanket (which she really appreciated!) she was in pre-op and we were ready to go. The surgery itself took about six hours, and it really flew by. I was surprised. The family waiting room had wi-fi and I had my iPad. I occupied myself watching Netflix, which was a pretty cool thing. Gotta love technology! In recovery, the first words she spoke were, "I'm tired. I can't possibly be tired, I just slept for six hours." That's my girl. She spent the first night in PICU, for observation. There, we had a wonderful gift. The first nurse was the daughter of JBug's bible study leaders, and really took a personal interest in her recovery. I do not say lightly that she was my angel. I was able to sleep on the futon there, which, for all practical purposes, was pretty comfortable. I awoke to find her, the day after surgery, with the bed propped up and she was eating ice! Yay, for recovery. That afternoon, she sat on the edge of her bed, and even stood. By evening, she was in a regular private room, and doing well. At CHOC, you can wear your own pajamas, and decorate your room to make it feel more comfortable. We had a small Christmas tree from her friends, but I don't have a picture of it. They have "child life specialists" who work to make your child more comfortable. They bring movies and games and check in on them, as well. There is even a troupe of therapy dogs that visit! All of this contributed to her recovery.


In fact, she continued to do well, with only one setback of nausea from pain medicine on an empty stomach. We learned quickly that she had to eat at least a bit before she took her medication. The meds did the trick, and she had very little pain. By day five, she was ready to come home. She spent Christmas, at home, on the couch, and in her bed. Recovery has gone well, she has even ventured out for a movie and to visit family. She has now resumed her classes, and is such a superstar. She has good and bad days, where there is some achiness, and she is saddened that she will miss marching band due to recovery, but overall, this has been a good experience. She gained 2 INCHES in height, and just wait until you see the difference!
T., who is very, very relieved that it is mostly over

Where have I been?

Christmas tree at the Cruz house


before and after x-ray of my daughter's scoliosis surgery


dog learns to play fetch


new Christmas bicycle for JBean


well-deserved hazelnut-caramel latte


birthday deely-boppers for Poppy, who turned ONE. Doesn't she look happy in them?? Should I hide my shoes?
T.

We are going to see The Nutcracker!

Last year, she played a lamb. The year before that, a flower princess. This year, she isn't dancing in the Nutcracker. But she is seeing it. Maple Youth Ballet presents The Nutcracker, December 18th through the 23rd. And finally, my youngest, JBean, will get to see it. She has been wanting to see it most of her life.

She did see a Nutcracker, of sorts, last year. The dancing was wonderful, as was the staging. But it was a special performance for schools and included awful narration, referencing how much more exciting it was then the Power Rangers! My daughter was disgusted. Who narrates a ballet, she wanted to know.

This time around, we are seeing the real Nutcracker, at Irvine and Newport Beach's premier conservatory of dance, Maple Conservatory. We cannot wait. I hope this is the start of a holiday tradition.

You can attend, too. There are still seats available! Why not take a break from your holiday preparations to enjoy some family time? Tickets range from $20-$28 dollars, which is reasonable for a full-fledged production. I can't wait, and I know my daughter is filled with joy at the prospect!

T, who always wanted to be able to dance

full disclosure: I was not paid for this post, but I was given tickets to the performance. Opinions stated are always, always my own.

Christmas Comes But Once a Year (thank GOD!)

I am not a fan of the holidays. I know, hard to believe, right? My mother is a huge lover of the Christmas season. She would bake for days, shop, and stay up all night to wrap presents on Christmas Eve. Her packages were works of art. The magical mornings of peeking at the tree while it was still dark to find that Santa had been there and artfully arranged the presents are some of the best memories of my childhood. And I want my children to have that, I do. And I try to do all of the things my mother did, but I just...can't. And so. I pretty much hate Christmas.

Every year I tell myself it will be different. I will start earlier. I will have a better attitude. But by mid-December I am usually stressed out, ready to curl up in a fetal position, and wait for it all to be over. Instead, I pull myself up, give myself a good talking-to, and finish the preparations at the last minute amidst much self-loathing. It isn't fun.

And this year? Is going to be even less fun. My eldest, JBug, goes in for spinal surgery on the 15th of December, which means I have to have everything done TEN days earlier than usual. She will be in the hospital for at least five days, but should be home for Christmas. So I will have little time to scour the shops, maul the mall, or gilt the gift. I have to just get it over with quickly.

So on that note, I am trying to get into the spirit faster than usual, which is why I found this little video of Newfoundland dogs dressed up for Christmas and carrying things in carts. I hope it brings you joy.

T.

When words fail, speak puppy

Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) autism can really be difficult. JBean is 9 now, and much of the time acts closer to 5. Lately she has had a really hard time with self-regulation. She gets upset and words just fail her. She is very verbal, just like any other kid, but when she is angry, she resorts to growling and grunting. It is hard to take, but I have to continually remind myself that it is the short-circuit of autism that causes this behavior; she is not a brat.

Until recently, there wasn't much I could do when she fell into this behavior. She just had to be allowed to cool off until she could talk. But we found an even better solution. Our own unofficial therapy pup.

Poppy, we love you. And what did we ever do without you?

T.

I am now officially a dog person

Today was Poppy's first experience with meeting other Newfs. JNerd and I loaded her into the car and headed out to the Fall 2010 Draft Test. We made sure to keep a wide berth between Poppy and the entrants of the trial. We didn't want her distracting them. We were just there to watch, and to meet new people. She is not ready for competition at this point. Overall, she did really well. There was a bit of feistiness at first...after all, she had never been at Huntington Central Park before, and it is a bit different from most of the parks she has been to. It has more of a wilderness feel, I think. But for the most part, she settled quickly.

I was able to meet another Newf.net member, Rebekah, which is another reason to be thankful for the Interwebs. Newf.net is a bulletin board I belong to, where I chat with other newfie owners from all over the world. This particular person was from the L.A. area and I was really excited to meet another newfoundland owner. It was nice to put a face to the name, and meet her pup Artie, as well.

Poppy played and sniffed a couple of other Newfoundlands, which was quite funny. Watching her see another newf for the first time: her eyes widened and she whined, and just seemed overjoyed to find dogs like her. Maybe I am anthropomorphizing too much, but it really seemed like she wanted to know them! She was able to play a bit with a couple of the dogs, and of course, next to me, she loves other dogs best.

She also met other people, and some kids. Except for a small bit of jumping at first contact, she was very obedient. We are still working on the initial approach. She has never had a problem with jumping up, but recently she has just started greeting people in this way. After the first small lunge, she settles and sits nicely for me. I just need to stop her from jumping up at all!

After we were there, she settled down, and actually listened. She watched me when bikes and joggers and other dogs came by, which is a huge thing for her. She sat and lie down when I told her to stay. She shook hands and high-fived, and I was just really proud of her.

She is now sacked out, absolutely dog-tired after her little adventure. It is a lot of fun having a Newf, and it was inspiring to see the well-trained beautiful dogs of the club members. I can see now what I have to work towards. She'll get there. Too bad kids aren't as easily trained as dogs!

T, who seems to be a dog person now