Private parts

When Joseph was little he was, as most little boys are, fascinated with what he had going on in his pants. He wasn't shy about it either. To solve this we intoduced him to the concept of "private parts". We told him those were his private parts and if he wanted to touch them he could do it when he was alone because it polite to do it in front of other people. We also used it as a "bad touch" teaching moment. He shouldn't be showing his to anyone, no one should be showing him theirs. It was a good, simple, concrete concept that really seemed to work for Joseph.

It worked so well in fact that I decided to have the same conversation with Elle recently. She seemed to take it to heart too.

Maybe too much so.

Yesterday Elle and I ran to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things. She kept trying to run away from me and dart into different aisles. That's very unlike her since she's usually glued to my side begging me to buy her stuff when we grow grocery shopping. At one point I was at the end of an aisle and she way way at the other end. We treated the two older ladies between us to this conversation.

Me: Elle, come back over by me.
Elle: I can't! I have to go to the next aisle!
Me? Why baby?
Elle: Because I have to touch my privates and I need to be alone to do it!

Turns out the poor kid had an itch to scratch and she was trying desperately to find somewhere she could be alone and take care of it.

Sigh.

At least I know she's listening to me.

I hope it's in the shape of a horsie!

A couple of weeks ago I took Joseph to the eye doctor because he was complaining about "floaties". Turns out he has the tiny problem most commonly know as Terrible Eyesight. The poor kid has been going around half blind and I didn't even know it.

Yesterday Joseph had an evaluation with a physical therapist because I notices his ankles were starting to turn down. After watching him run around the gym for a while the therapist recommended ankles braces and twice a week physical therapy.

In the span of two weeks the kid has gained glasses, braces and a standing therapy appointment.

I think next week I'll take Joseph for a social assessment where they'll determine that he's fitting in too well and recommend that he gets a farm animal shaped birthmark tattooed on his face.

One year ago today I loved Obama.
Two years ago I asked people to pray.
Three years ago today I nursed Elle for the last time.
Four years ago today I was having a bad day.

You noticed me! You really noticed me!

Oh! I didn't see you there at first. I've been so busy "sorting" Halloween candy for the last two days that I've hardly had time to think about this blog, much less it's readership. So you'll understand my surprise when I checked my stats and discovered a rather large and glorious upswing in my page views. Specifically, it went from "none" to "some".

I've had these odd blips before and I know it doesn't lead to lead to sustained, long-term readers but I thought I would throw out this offer anyway: If you come back I can promise you lots of stories about boobs and poop and having babies for gay men. And I'm sure my long time readers (hi Jean!) will vouch for and tell you that I can occasionally be amusing or interesting. I'm like a car wreck where the cars are driven by clowns. You can't look away and you feel a little bad for laughing but come on, it's clowns in a car wreck! There are giant floppy shoes all over the highway.

Ok, I lied. I'm nothing like a clown car wreck. I'm more like a housewife who's trying to avoid her domestic responsibilities. Doesn't that sound fun?

Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

One year ago today I had issues with the neighborhood vagabond.
Four years ago today Elle had her first real bath.

Being a mom doesn't mean not having feelings

Long ago I had a job at a grocery store located in a bad part of town. I quit the job when I got married. Then, a couple of years later I returned to work at the same store, this time as a cake decorator. What I didn't know when I was hired was that the store was experiencing a big problem with employee theft. I found that out when the company's loss prevention department started an investigation and I was named as one of the people stealing.

When I was "questioned" regarding my involvement I was told that I had been named by one of the stock boys as someone who was stealing from the store. Why? I was never able to figure that out. The people stealing were largely high school aged cashiers and stock boys most of whom I never had any contact with at all. When I was asked about certain people's involvement in the "theft ring" I had told them that honestly I had no idea who the people they were asking about even were. The person questioning me seemed to think I was trying to cover for people and got angrier and angrier with me.

I was sent home from work that day and told I would be called in a few days about my "employment status". All the "evidence" they had been able to gather against me basically amounted to one time I had to take a pill with food and someone from the deli gave me a corn dog that was going to be thrown out because it was old.

Three days later I got a call saying I was fired. (On the exact same day we were going to court to finalize Joseph's adoption. So yeah, that was awesome.) I was humiliated and hurt. I had never been fired from a job before and to be fired for the reason I was, was extra painful.

Several of my former co-workers encouraged me to fight my firing and for a while I considered it. Jesse and I even spoke to an attorney who advised us that there was nothing he could do for me since I had been prosecuted for stealing. When I told him I had never actually been prosecuted he was pretty surprised. As it turns out the company I worked for ALWAYS prosecutes shoplifters. Always. Without exception.

So why wasn't I prosecuted? I really think it was because I wasn't fired for stealing. I was fired because the loss prevention person questioning was angry that I didn't help out his investigation. It didn't matter that I didn't actually know anything. He thought I did and he thought I was hiding something and that made him mad. And that was all it took. Minnesota's wonky laws allow a company to fire an employee for any reason at any time so in the end, even though I was fired without cause, I still didn't have a leg to stand on legally.

The whole event was pretty hurtful but you, know, life goes on. I got past it. Jesse now works for the same company that I was fired from. I've been to several office Christmas parties with the same people who "investigated" me. I've been to the head office several times to bring something to Jesse or to pick him up and take him to lunch. I have been in the vacation condo of the company's owner. I've even been on his boat. Joseph sat on his lap and helped him steer the boat! Company higher ups call our house all the time to ask Jesse for help with computer problems and I can have a friendly chat with them. I was even actually rehired by the company at one point. (Once the loss prevention person got wind of it he quickly had me refired with some lame excuse about paperwork not being done right but WHATEVER!)

The point is, I'm over it. I don't really think about it these days.

Most of the time.

The other day my mom took the kids over to my grandma's apartment. Several of my aunts and uncles were there visiting. Somehow the company that I used to work for came up in conversation. Joseph decided to cheerfully offer up this little fact: "My mommy used to work there but then she was fired for stealing!" Neither he (or my mom for that matter) decided to actually tell the entire story so everyone in the room got to hear the very worst part of the story and that's it.

When my mom called to tell me this a couple of days later I was pissed. I got off the phone with her and said to Joseph "I don't like you telling people that I was fired for stealing." He got a horrified look on his face and said "Oh no! Did T--- call you and tell you I told him that?"

By the way, T--- is his IEP case manager. Meaning not only has Joseph been telling family members this little story, he's also been telling people at school. And god only knows who else.

And you know what? It really, really upsets me. 99% of what Joseph (or even Elle for that matter) does I can laugh at as a parent. Even if they're little stinkers I can find humor in it. Not to say that I never get upset or angry at my kids but most of the time, by the end of the day I've managed to find a way to smile about what ever they've done.

Not this time though. People have told me that I shouldn't be upset about this because Joseph can't help what he says. I know it's true. I know that because of Aspergers he's missing that internal filter that says "Stop! This is not ok to say!" I don't think he said that stuff to be hurtful. The fact is though, he said it and it is hurtful.

Being a parent is hard and being a parent of a child with special needs is ... special hard. It means countless doctor and therapy appointments. It means juggling the imprecise science of finding the right mix of medications. It means managing, re-teaching and yes, even tolerating atypical behaviors. It means putting your own needs aside and focusing on what your child needs. Most of the time I think I do a pretty good job at that stuff. But dammit. Sometimes it's hard.

He may have Aspergers but I still have feelings.

One year ago today my brother and I debated politics.
Two years ago today I had Halloween overload.
Three years ago today I was ... drunk or something.

It was ... Soap! Poisoning!

As I was reading Elle her bedtime stories last night she kept making weird little noises and faces. I chalked it up to her being a weird little four year old.

When I turned off the light and climbed into bed with her* she started coughing and whining. When I asked her what was wrong she said the bubbles in her throat hurt. I assumed she was talking about saliva and saying that it hurt to swallow.

Then she started to stick her hand in her mouth and cry. All I could get her to say was that the bubbles were hurting her. Then she started to cry really hard. Jesse came in to see what was going on and I headed downstairs to check on Joseph.

When I got downstairs I could hear Jesse and Elle moving around and going back and forth from her room to the bathroom. About 20 minutes later Jesse came downstairs to report that Elle was in bed and waiting for me to lay down with her. What had they been doing upstairs? In Jesse's words: "Well she wouldn't actually admit to it but she told me that she might have taken a spoon from her tea party set into the bathroom and that she might have filled it with hand soap and that she might have eaten it. We've been rinsing and spitting for a while."

Soap. The little weirdo ate a spoonful of hand soap. Then she couldn't fall asleep because her throat was full of bubbles. God, what are these kids trying to do to me? And yes, I mean "these kids". Both of them. Stay tuned for tomorrow's post that I've tentatively titled "You may have Aspergers but I still have feelings".

*Yes, I get into bed with her until she falls asleep. I'm aware that pretty much every child rearing/sleep expert would scold me but I don't care.

Three years ago today I was afraid of becoming a zombie.
Four years ago today Elle pulled her own hair and no one but my family read my blog.

Clearly Jesse is wrong about everything

My husband and I have been married for over 10 years now and for the most part it's been smooth sailing. We've never had to deal with the issues that face a lot of couple married for 10 years. No infidelity, no major blow ups about money, no significant differences in child-rearing philosophy, no fights about religion or politics.

Don't take that to mean that we never argue because we do. Sure, we might not fight about the big stuff but we make up for it by bickering about every single little thing that we can.

I love Jesse dearly. He's a good husband, a great father and my very best friend. He's also wrong about everything and it's my job to correct all his misconceptions.

In the past ten years we have had heated arguments over the following things:

• What the proper name for "tortillas" is.
• Whether or not Coldplay sounds the same as U2.
• If Amish people can be autistic.
• How many types of fish we should have in our fish tank.
• How much water to add to the pan when you're making sausage links.
• If it's possible to have thunder without lightening.
• If jackalopes are real or not.
• If it's ok to scream at an umpire.

Those are just a few examples. I've probably blocked some of the most ridiculous from my mind. I'm curious to know if we're alone in this. What is the stupidest, most pointless thing you have ever argued about with your significant other? And don't you think that tortillas should be called "tortillas" and not "wraps"?

Two years ago today I answered some questions about surrogacy and money and Elle thought that even her gas was cute.
Three years ago today I was scared of a toy.
Four years ago today Elle always wanted me to expose myself.

Pail style 2.0

Yesterday when I picked Joseph up from school he was so excited. He went on and on about the field trip that his class would be taking today. His class has been studying early settlers and today they're taking a trip to a one room school house to see how kids back then went to school.

He went on and on about this field trip and he told me that part he was most excited about was that the class would be eating "sack lunches, pail style!" just like pioneers.

You can imagine how heartbroken Joseph was this morning when he woke up with a sore throat, cough and fever of over 100. "Oh no!" he cried. "I'm missing my sack lunch! Pail style!"

Since Joseph had the seasonal flu vaccine and we know he's been exposed to H1N1 (like every other kid in America) we're assuming he's got H1N1. Since pregnant women are at a higher risk for complications from H1N1 I've been banished to the upstairs while Jesse stays downstairs (and home from work) to take care of him. (I don't know if it's going to make any difference, the kid was slobbering all over me yesterday.)

I hate not being able to take care of my kids when they're sick. It's a very frustrating feeling not be able to do anything other than stand at the top of the stairs and yell "Be sure to drink more water sweetie!" and "Remember to cover your mouth when you cough!"

So this morning I went out to the garage and dug out a little metal pail. I'm going to wash it out and pack a lunch it it. One way or another my boy is getting his sack lunch, pail style.

Three years ago today I was tentatively matched for my first surrogacy.
Four years ago today I was getting used to having two kids.

My textures bring all the boys to the yard

I don't want to alarm anyone but it appears I have a stalker. Ok, maybe not a stalker but an admirer. All right, not an admirer but someone who acknowledges my existence. I guess maybe she doesn't know I exist but she at least likes my photography. Or rather, she likes one picture I took.

Pioneer Woman used one of my pictures in one of her "photo assignment" posts. This picture to be exact:

I expect that any minute now I'll be catapulted in the exciting world of high profile photography bloggers. I know that soon people will be knocking on my door to invite me to blogging conferences where I'll be given expensive cameras. Soon, very soon.

Yes, any second now...

Hey, in the meantime let me tell you about a few of my recent google hits!
no mustache could have been any clipper song - Ha! See? It's not just me!
does using dixie paper plates make me a good mom? - No. I've gone into great detail about this.
when i eat my head leaks - Err...
the problem with asking a girl to do the poop song - This is what I get for calling this blog Problem Girl. Everyone looking for help with their girl problems ends up here. And a lot of people have girl problems that involve poop.

I could do this all day but now I have to go and pack. I want to be ready when the people who want me to publish a book of my textured photos need me to fly to LA and do lunch.

Two years ago today I was not in the best of moods.
Three years ago today I had a tough day with Joseph but then the kids were cute and even cuter.
Four years ago today I no longer worried about pooping while giving birth.