Parenting from afar

Elle is hovering around my bed and eying the food on my tray. "What's that taste like Mama?" she asks about the cheesy noodle casserole I've been served for dinner. I give her a taste and she smiles and hops back and forth from one foot to another. Before you know it she's eaten half of my dinner. Casserole, broccoli and a dinner roll served on a tray in bed are fun when you're six. After I let her finish my butterscotch pudding she climbs up onto my bed and curls up around me.

Joseph has no interest in my dinner but he sits in the chair next to my bed and keeps up an endless stream of chatter about cartoons and Big Nate books and this girl in his class who tries to boss him around. In the middle of his speech he pauses and says "I like being around you" and then goes right back to what he was saying.

It is breaking my heart to be away from the kids. I know that they're ok, that they're taken care of. Jesse and my parents are taking care of everything they need. It's not the same though. They need me. I need to be there for them. I'm missing end of school year events. As I type this Joseph is doing a stand up routine in his school talent show and I have to be here in bed. If I was there I could cheer him on and wave to Elle when she searched the auditorium for me.

In theory I could be in this room for another five weeks. That's the best case scenario. I give Baby A plenty of time to grow big and strong and then I deliver when I'm 34 weeks pregnant. I can't help but hate it a little bit that in order to give this baby the best I have to be away from my babies. Of course I do the best I can from this bed. My parents and Jesse had brought the kids to visit several times. We talk on the phone. We've skyped. It's not the same though. I want to be home. I want to be the one to brush Elle's hair in the morning. I want to be the one to remind Joseph that it's 80 degrees out and that he doesn't need a long sleeved shirt on. I want to be the one to make dinner and then hear the whines about the weird new vegetable I'm serving.  I want to smell Elle when she comes inside from playing in the garden and she smells like dirt and chives. I want to hear Joseph when he finds a funny Harry Potter mash up video on youtube that makes him do his crazy falling down giggle.

I want to go home to my children,

Revenge is a dish best served shoved down next to the bed

Once upon a time Joseph and I were downstairs together.  Joseph went into his room and I heard some thumping around. After a minute he yelled "Augh! Mommy! Help me!" I ran into his room and found him like this:

That's right, I took a picture.

As Joseph explained it he was trying to reach something that had fallen off his bed and he slipped down and then was unable to get out. Now maybe I'm the meanest mom every but that made me laugh and then I took a picture. Then I posted it on facebook. Now here's the best part.

It happened twice.

And twice I laughed and took a picture and posted it to facebook.

Fast forward to today when I pick Joseph up from school and he excitedly tells me that he has big news.  It turns out that Joseph wrote a speech for his class's speech competition. He won the class round and went onto the 5th grade round. He won that round and will now be competing in the school round.  He'll get to read his speech in front of the school and the parents of the children in the competition.

In case you're wondering about the title of Joseph's speech? "My Most Embarrassing Moment - The Time My Mom Posted a Picture of Me on facebook".

See? What goes around comes around.

An afternoon at the museum

Since the kids had the day off from school (do kids have the day off from school everywhere for Good Friday? Or is that just a thing around here?) I decided to take them to the Minnesota Science Museum. By myself.  Now that might not seem like a big deal to you but I really hate driving in any traffic worse than what I see on the main street of my very small town. But figured it would be ok since I have GPS on my phone so I decided we would brave it and make the hour and a half drive.

All was going well until right as I was preparing to exit the highway into the heart of Minneapolis and my GPS cut out.  Not like a little blip in service but like it totally shut off.  And I couldn't get it back on. And Joseph started to freak out in the backseat. And a car drove into my lane and came within inches of hitting us.  That was not the best part of the day. By some miracle I managed to get myself to the museum without GPS directing me.

I drove around trying to figure out where in the heck to park.  A warning - if you visit the museum know that it is surrounded by giant parking lots, all of them blocked with signs saying "Lot closed - use lower lot". And none of the signs tell you where this mythical lower lot is so you're just forced to circle around and around while your son hyperventilates and your daughter whines "I don't like this! Let's just go to the zoo!"  You might be driven to make a left turn directly onto a very narrow street marked "Exit only!" and "Restricted!" and "Wrong way!".  This will not serve to calm your children down.

But somehow I got out of the danger zone and I managed to find the stupid freaking lower lot.  And here's something funny!  The lower lot was closed! Haha! Despite the fact that the museum had only been open for about an hour the entire parking lot was full. I was going to try to turn around the find another spot but more and more cars kept pulling up right behind me and I couldn't back out of the lane to get into the ramp.  Then, a miracle!  A car came out and I was allowed to go in.  And we got a great spot. In fact there were at least a dozen spots that we saw so there goes the "full" theory.

Let me tell you about how things went at the museum with just pregnant, waddling me and my two maniac children.  It went freaking awesome. Of all the kids my kids are the best kids.  My number one pet peeve with museums is parents who let their kids run wild and dash from exhibit to exhibit mashing on random buttons without every figuring out how anything works.  Not my kids!  They read instructions.  They followed steps.  They asked questions and they figured things out and they worked together and I damn near cried watching it.

There was one exhibit where you could build little contraptions and put them in a chute that was blasting air straight up.  Then you could see if your contraption would fly or not.  The kids watched a bunch of 10-14 year old boys trying out their contraptions for a little bit.  Joseph got to work carefully building what he described to me as a hang glider.  Elle whispered to me "Those boys are making things too heavy." Then she made a little thing that looked like a bird, elbowed her way through the crowd of boys and put her contraption in the tunnel.  And I am not lying when I say her little bird thing flew right up to the top of the tube and then right out the top. It fluttered down and she caught it in her outstretched hand while the crowd of boys around her grumbled about how none of theirs would go to the top and why did hers? I got all bursty in my chest and then I got even MORE bursty when Joseph brought his contraption to the tube and put it in.  It was big and heavy but he had built it so well that it lifted right up, flew out of the tube, hit the ceiling and landed on the floor right in front of Joseph.  I might have strutted a little bit and said "Yeah! Those are MY babies! Suck it other parents!". Ok, there were no other parents around.  But I did strut.

We also visited a pirate exhibit. Joseph was especially fascinated by the eight year old pirate we learned about. He wondered what would make a little boy want to be a pirate.  He said maybe the boy had Aspergers.  A short pause and then "I think I have Arrrrspergers. It's a disorder that makes me want to be a pirate." Then we all laughed because Joseph is punny.

As we were just about to leave the museum we stopped at an exhibit where you could build a machine that worked like an big gear .... thingy ... that could draw patterns on paper.  As Elle and I set it up a boy who was maybe 14 or 15 came right up by and started to move things around.  I was about to do my "back off" stance that I had perfected during the day but something about this boy struck me.  He didn't say anything to us and he was standing way too close to us but I could tell he was just trying to help.  Once we got the machine set up he took a step back and just stood there and waited till we were done.  He rocked back and forth from one foot to another.  I noticed he was holding a paperback book in one hand.

After Elle finished her drawing we stepped back and I watched as Joseph and the other boy set the machine up with a new configuration.  They were both wearing track pants and hooded sweatshirts.  Both had brown hair in need of a trim.  Both wore glasses.  You guys, it was almost creepy.  It was like Joseph from the future was standing right there next to us. A kid who didn't understand social cues like how far to stand away from a stranger or to ask before jumping in and helping with something you know how to do. A paperback book in his hand.  I actually got tears in my eyes.  I'll blame it on the pregnancy hormones. It just struck me as awesome somehow.

Then it was time to leave. I needed to use the restroom and the kids picked that exact moment to stop listening to me and chose to argue and ignore my instructions.  I was able to get them situated but I came within .03 seconds of peeing my pants right in the middle of the museum.  I couldn't even really scold them though because seriously? Best kids ever.

Then we drove home and we sang together "I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, saying 'Hey-o! I'm a Lego'" and it was awesome and fun and totally made up for the drama of the morning. I need to take my kids out more often because they are so worth the effort.

Random updates

I keep forgetting how pregnant I am. This morning I was thinking it was about 16 weeks but then I counted it out and I'm 18 and a half weeks.  This pregnancy has been weird.

Elle brought home a menu she made in school when they were playing restaurant.  On the regular menu was "ledduce", "carrotts", "salid" and "food". On the dessert and drink menu were beer and Oreos.

Joseph is going to have a solo in the upcoming school concert. He's going to be doing the rap portion of "Everybody Dance Now". I plan to tape it and play it to myself every day for the rest of my life.

Our family took a three day trip to Duluth to see the sights and eat at some Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives places.  I cannot say enough good things about The Duluth Grill. It was so good we went twice in two days.  If you go for breakfast order the scotch eggs.  They look funky but they are AMAZING. I also can't say enough bad things about Grandma's. Bad service, loooooong wait times and crappy food.  If you go order whatever you want and then feel bad about it because you could be eating at The Duluth Grill.

If you ever go to Duluth try to take Joseph with you because he will want to visit the Maritime Museum and he will keep talking about it and calling it the "Merry Time Museum" and you will find it so cute that you will be forced to buy him whatever he wants at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

I'm going to be going on another eating road trip this weekend.  My dad and I are going to Kansas City where we will have BBQ and other assorted bad for you foods.  I haven't gained any weight so far this pregnancy but my plan is to shatter that record with smoked meat and other sauced foods.  Shut up.  It's good for the baby.

Catching up

What's new with me? A few things. Someone needs to invent a thing that takes the blog posts out of your head and types them out.  If I had that I would update my blog a dozen times a day.  Since there is no such thing you get this list of news items instead.

1. Baby A continues to be awesome.  I had another ultrasound and she is bouncing and behaving.  I will have another ultrasound in a few weeks to find out if she really is a she.

2. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the day we adopted Joseph.  That's pretty cool.  When he headed downstairs to go to bed last night he said "Good night!  I love you! I'm glad you adopted me! I like being part of this family!"  He might have said that because we had pizza for dinner and gave him some money to buy music on his ipod.  I'll take it though because that's just darned cute.

3. Elle had a couple of scary days of bad stomach pain. I ended up spending two days in the ER with her as doctors tried to figure out what was wrong. At one point she had to have a procedure done that was really uncomfortable and the whole time it was going on I was holding her hand and the nurse was telling her "It's almost done! After this you'll be all done!" and then we had to re-do the procedure and Elle looked at me with big, sad eyes and said "But you told me there wouldn't be any more uncomfortable things!" and then my heart fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

I think future teenage Elle will appreciate me not sharing all the details of her ER visit so I will keep some of it private.  The long and the short of it is that sometimes shit happens.  And when it doesn't happen you might need to stay in the ER for a while. And sometimes there are bladder infections.  (Sorry future Elle.)

4. My first surrogate baby turned 4 the other day. Nothing really else to add to that.

5. I got a Vitamix blender.  It's the best thing in my house.  I even like it better than my family.  My family can't make fancy coffee drinks and the blender doesn't leave it's shoes randomly scattered all over the floor. I'm not being paid to say this or getting anything in return for mentioning it.  I just want you to know that you need one of these blenders.  They're a little expensive (unless perhaps you have a very generous intended mother who buys it for you) but it's worth every penny and then some. Fair warning though, if you get one you're going to want to spend all day making smoothies.

Three times the fun!

So I'm pregnant with triplets.  That's still a thing that is happening in my life.  Things have gotten interesting since I found out how many babies I've got on board.

The nearly universal reaction to this news has been "Holy shit!".  I myself go back and forth between "What's the big deal?  It's not like I'm the octomom." and "Holy shit!".  My mood swings, let me show you them.

The other reaction I get a lot is "Since you carried one the first time and two the second and three this time are you going to do four next time?"  If you know me in real life and have not yet said this to me, I beg you, please don't say it.  It kind of pisses me off. It's really not funny.  If I have to explain why then that's just going to annoy me more.

That said, it's not all Serious Business.  There's also a lot of sleeping involved.  I sleep ALL THE TIME.  Most days I get the kids off to school and then go back to bed.  I get up around lunch time when I try to eat and get a little done around the house.  After I pick up the kids I spend a little time with them until around 5 when I crash again.  Even when I'm awake I'm still tired as heck and if I miss a nap, watch out!

Then there's the food.  By some miracle of miracles I have not really had bad morning sickness.  I have yet to throw up and a lot of the time I have a pretty good appetite.  Cooking smells sometimes bother me but mostly I'm ok.  I eat a lot.  A lot.  I mean, a whole lot.  I can finish off a regular sized dinner and then have a bagel and then a handful of nuts and then a cheese stick and then a spinach salad and then a Christmas cookie and then a spoonful of peanut butter and then a spoonful of nutella and then a handful or pretzels and then maybe a piece of steak.  I don't believe in having shame or guilt about what you eat but even I am kind of embarrassed by how much I eat some days.

In (what I'm certain is unrelated news) my pants are already getting tight.  I've made a goal of not switching to maternity pants until 9 weeks (no, I don't know why so shut up) so now I just wear my "fat jeans" or yoga pants.  My breasts have also grown like the mighty oak.  Only they're not tall.  Just big.  So not so much like the mighty oak I guess.

So I'm getting by.  Life is good.  Christmas was good and I managed to stay awake for most of it.  My children continue to be the most delightful people on the planet.  Joseph had some friends over for a sleepover (his first ever!) and they were adorable and fun and the loudest of all the possible things.  Today Elle was looking at me through a cardboard tube and she said "Mama, your head is really small.  Go look in the mirror to see how small your head is.  You won't even believe it."

See?  Life is good.

Overheard from the backseat of my car

Joseph's friend: "Joseph, you have Aspergers right?"
Joseph: "Right.  And you have Tourette's System*?"
Joseph's friend: "Yeah." *long pause* "That's probably why we're such good friends."
Joseph: "Because we understand each other."

Melt.

*He really called it "Tourette's System.  He's too cute.

Lupron Blues

So I don't know if I've mentioned this or not (and I'm too lazy to go back and check) but I am preparing for another embryo transfer.  This will be my second attempt with this new couple and for various reasons I'm feeling a lot more optimistic than I was the last time around.  As it stands right now it looks like I should be transferring sometime right around, or even on, Thanksgiving Day.

In preparation for the IVF cycle I have been on a drug called Lupron.  I have to give myself an injection of it in my belly every day.  Luckily there is plenty of padding and the shots really don't even hurt that much.  Usually Elle picks out the spot where I should do the injection then the counts down for me to jab myself. It's a family affair.

Lupron is a hell of a drug.  Here's me normally - "Hello!  I enjoy things that are pleasant!  Chocolate is good!"  Here's me on Lupron - "I have had a headache since last Tuesday.  I swear to god that whatever it is you're doing right now you're only doing to piss me off.  If you don't stop breathing so loud I am going to rip your face off.  WHY DON'T WE HAVE ANY CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE!??!?!?!"

The kids call Lupron my "crabby shots" and it's a pretty well deserved nickname.  I try really hard not to take it out on them and most of the time I'm pretty successful (poor Jesse gets the worst of it) but I guess sometimes I fail.  We were in Goodwill the other day looking for some finishing touches for Halloween costumes and Elle was just not listening at all.  When we were standing in line she kept whining and begging for me to please buy her some chocolate eyeballs that looked like they were about 47 years old, please buy the eyeballs, why won't you buy the eyeballs, I NEED the eyeballs, I never get any eyeballs, these are the best eyeballs ever, I will cry if I don't get these eyeballs.  Joseph started shoving himself between me and Elle and trying to whisper something to her.  She couldn't hear over the sound of her own whining so finally he yelled "Watch out Elle!  Don't make Mommy mad!  You know she's crabby when she's on her Lupron!"  We got some looks.

But in spite of having had a constant throbbing headache for the past week and having my asshole dial turned up to 11 things are pretty good. Halloween was fun.  The kids were adorable.  Please stand by for photographic proof in 3 .... 2.... 1....

In case you can't tell they went as Doctor Elle and Plants vs Zombie zombie Joseph.  And didn't they do a nice job when I said "Look at me you guys!"?

Oh yeah!  I also became famous on facebook for like three seconds when I posted a picture from the Anoka Halloween parade.  But that's a story for another day.  For now I have to go eat my weight in Nutella.

She got less because she needed less

I started this blog because of Elle. When I got pregnant with her I wanted a way to keep my friends and family updated on my pregnancy.  In retrospect I probably vastly overestimated the interest my friends and family would have in my pregnancy.  I think sometimes when you're a woman who's experiencing the agony and the ecstasy of her first pregnancy you think everyone else is going to be as fascinated by every little twitch and twinge as you are.  Of course no one really is but that's ok.  It fun to share.

Over time this blog evolved.  I talk a lot about myself now, about my surrogate pregnancies, about raising the kids, about any little thing that pops into my head.  I post a lot less than I used to but now I think of this blog as more important than I ever did before.  Perhaps it's morbid but sometime around the time I gave birth to Little A I started to think that if something bad were to ever happen to me at least the kids could go back and read my blog.  In that way they could know me and know how much I love them and maybe look back and laugh at some of the good times we shared together.

I had such big plans for what I wanted to share yesterday on this blog.  I wanted to talk about how Elle turned six years old.  I wanted to share her excitement about the whole day and how when I picked her up from school she was nearly vibrating with the pure joy of being six. I wanted to talk about how she used about eight pounds of sprinkles to decorate her birthday cake and how she put such thought into picking out an ice cream flavor she thought everyone would like.  I wanted to talk about how she squealed with delight over every present she opened and how when I put her to bed she told me "I've been waiting my whole life to be six years old!"

All those things happened and they were wonderful but the day, on the whole, was not wonderful.  It was the kind of day, the kind of week really, that had me shaking my head and feeling totally at a loss.

For the past week we have been dealing with Joseph being unable to deal with the fact that it's Elle's birthday.  He's too jealous.  He's too rigid.  He can't deal with the fact that Elle gets something that he's not getting at the EXACT SAME TIME!  We've spent the days now gently reminding him that yes, Elle gets some special stuff but he had a big party on his birthday day and he got to pick out the flavor of ice cream that he wanted.  We've less gently reminded him that yes, Elle gets to open presents on her birthday but that on his birthday we all sat around and watched him open presents too.  We've exasperatedly gone over and over the fact that yes, one time we went to Disneyland for Elle's birthday but that we also went to New York for his.

None of it mattered.  There were tantrums and melt-downs and general terrible behaviors all day long.  As Elle stood in the frozen food section and picked her ice cream flavor Joseph pouted and made rude comments.  When she said she wanted mint ice cream Joseph screamed and gagged.  Elle looked worried and said "I'll pick something else."  I assured her that mint was a fine choice and that she could get that if she wanted.  Joseph screamed "Oh sure, give Elle whatever she wants!  Elle is the most special and I am just boring old Joseph!"  She didn't pick mint ice cream.

When a few people came over for cake and presents Joseph spent a good portion of time in the bathroom wailing because no one was paying attention to him.  Later Jesse had to take Joseph into the laundry room because he was having a melt down over Elle getting such good presents.  We turned on her new toy guitar to drown out the sound of him yelling.

I was so angry yesterday.  And I was just so sad.

From the time Elle has been baby she's always had to give so much.  She's spent hours and hours and hours of her life in waiting rooms while Joseph has had various therapies.  She's had to be pulled out of school early so that I can get both of them to Joseph's appointments across town on time.  She wants to say hi to Joseph when they pass each other in hallway at school but she's learned not to because it upsets him.  She's had countless conversations and playtimes with me cut short because I have to deal with something Joseph needs.

Elle, if you read this someday, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry that you got less.  Less attention, less time, less understanding, less consideration.  You needed less and so you got less.  I always tried to make it even and to work it out but I know it wasn't fair and I'm sorry.

But also know this - on the day that you were six years and one day old, your mom went out and bought you a carton of mint ice cream for you to eat all on your own.

Two years ago today Elle was four.
Four years ago today the kids were getting older.

Newsie!

Wow, it's been a while since I posted.  That was not my intention.

This is a busy time for me.  I have a lot going on but none of it is interesting.  Perhaps the only thing I can think of to share is that later this month Elle and I will be taking a little road trip to visit some places of interest in Laura Ingalls Wilder history.  Elle tells me every day that he's so excited for the cheese sandwiches I promised to pack in the cooler when we go.  Joseph is excited to.  A few days ago he told me "I can't wait for your trip because then you'll be away from me for a few days!"  I guess he's ready for school to start soon too.

The only other news I have is that Joseph got a new hat.  When he wears it I sort of want to smoosh his face because he's so cute.

See?  Smooshable!

One year ago today we went to the splash pad.

I can make it one more month

The kids go back to school in one month.  I have mixed feelings about this.  On one hand, Elle will be in all day kindergarten and I will have no children at all in the house for six hours a day and that makes me a little sad and lonely.
On the other hand I would pay a billion, trillion dollars for school to have started yesterday.

I am attempting to sort and edit pictures from the three (yes, three!) photo shoots I did this past weekend and my work conditions are less than ideal.  My computer is located in our office/Lego room.  Every well equipped home should have a Lego room.  To my right Elle is playing Fresh Beat Band videos on the computer we have set up for her and Joseph.  I've asked her several times to turn the music down but I think The Fresh Beat Band has taken over the computer and they're turning up the volume from the inside.

Behind me Joseph is digging, digging, digging in a huge pile of Legos for the one single Lego that will complete his current Lego masterpiece.  How loud can one little boy digging through Legos really be?  That's like asking how bright the sun is.  It is SO LOUD OH MY GOD YOU CAN'T BELIEVE HOW LOUD IT IS.  On top of this he's yelling out "BARF!" at random intervals and nothing I say will make him stop.

Tthe kids make sure to let me know they're still around by asking me something every 4.6 seconds.  They need a snack.  They need a drink.  They need me to tell the other child to make less noise. They need me to help them reach a Lego off a high shelf.  They need me to give my opinion on the latest Phineas and Ferb episode.  "BARF!"

I've been working for an hour and my head is throbbing.  My back aches and my shoulders are tight.  My right eye lid has developed a twitch.  I've finished three pictures.

I'm calling it a day.  I'll get some work done in a month.

One year ago today I shared a video.
Two years ago today Joseph humiliated me.
Six years ago today Joseph was cute.

Facebook is so gay

To really understand the beauty of this story you have to understand Joseph.  I have raised him to be open and accepting and there is not a single part of him that is hateful or judgmental.  What he said in this story was not a joke.  It was an an honest attempt to answer his own question and figure out one of the touchier points of social interactions. 

"How do you know if someone is gay?" Joseph asked me.

"Hmmmm..." I responded, stalling for time as I tried to best form an answer he would understand.

He continued.  "I know that if like two men or two women are married then they're gay but how can you tell if you just met them?"

"Well buddy, there are maybe a few things that might give you a clue someone is gay but every person is different and -" I started but then he cut me off.

"Could you look them up on facebook?" he asked.  "Like if you looked up Bob and it said 'spouse - John' then you would know he was gay?"

I choked back a laugh. "Yes, I suppose that would do it."

Joseph continued.  "And you could look at their status updates?  Maybe it would say something like 'Bob is bein' gay!" or "Bob is gaying like no one has ever gayed before!' then you would know they were gay?"

On one hand I am a little disturbed by how well Joseph understands how facebook works.  On the other hand, I kind of want to get "Bob is bein' gay!" printed onto a t-shirt. 

One year ago today I went to New York.

Not babies any more

Yesterday Elle lost her second tooth.  She was brushing her teeth and she felt something fall out of her mouth but she thought it was a drop of water.  When she came to me so I could check her teeth over I said "Oh Elle!  Where's your tooth?" and calm as could be she walked back to the bathroom, picked the tooth up off of the floor and said "I knew I dropped something."
No big deal, no drama.  Just "Oh yeah, this piece of proof of my babyhood just feel out onto the bathroom floor.  Whatever."  She's really not a baby any more.

Joseph turned 11 this past weekend.  He's firmly settled into the teen years now and he's got the attitude and the first tiny pimple to prove it.  He's trying so hard to be independent.  At least he thinks he is.  He told me the other day that he doesn't have to listen to me any more because he's independent and when you're independent you only do what you want to do and could I please make him some lunch?  I guess he's not yet old enough to have figured out the concept of irony.

So grown up!  My babies aren't babies any more!  They're like little adults.

On the other hand.... Yesterday I was upstairs and I heard a loud thump come from the downstairs family room.  Before I could ask what was wrong Elle yelled up "It's ok Mama!  I jumped off the furniture and I didn't get hurt ... much.  I just think I broke my leg bone just a little bit! I'll shake it off and take two or maybe three deep breaths."

Later the same day Joseph and I were discussing how we had run into a friend of his from school at the grocery store. He said "I like her.  She's nice and she always has interesting things to talk about.  She knows a lot of stuff and she can talk to people about anything.  It's nice to have a person like that in your group of friends because she makes everyone in the group feel more comfortable."  And as I'm thinking how impressive it is that my Aspie is making such great, astute observations he finishes off with "I don't like her new haircut through.  It makes her look like a pharmacist."

Maybe not all the way grown up yet.

Two years ago today I got pissy about cake.
Four years ago people asked stupid questions about adoption.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt

I bet you're on the edge of your seat wondering how the two most exciting things in my life turned out last week.  I'll fill you in on Joseph's birthday party and my tooth removal in a second but first, let me ask you a question.  I took the kids to the drive through at McDonalds for some ice cream after soccer practice and I ordered both of them a small McFlurry.  The order-taker-person snotted back to me "Small?  We don't have small.  We have regular and snack size.  Which of those do you want?"

Now is it just me or is it not a giant, impossible leap of logical thinking to figure out that if someone orders a "small" what they want is the smaller available size?  Like, if I had ordered a large I can see where she might have felt like she had to tell me there was nothing bigger than the regular size but was the snotty tone warranted when I ordered a small?  Most of the time I'm not one to say nothing when I'm treated rudely but I have this fear that all food service people are just waiting for an excuse to spit in my food so I just meekly corrected my order to two snack sized McFlurrys.  (That's a stupid name anyway.  Snack sized?  When you don't want to make a meal out of your ice cream?)  Plus, Elle had practiced soccer in the rain and she only cried twice so I wasn't about to tell her we couldn't get ice cream just because Mrs SnackSizedBossyFace was rude to me.

Aaaaaanyway.  The birthday party.  It went well.  In the end almost no one RSVPed so Joseph called everyone on his list and said adorable things like "Hello!  This is Joseph!  I invited your son, Aaron P, to go to my birthday party this Saturday.  Please let me know if he's able to attend so my mom knows how much cake to buy!  Thank you and have a pleasant day!".  After people were able to recover from the sheer, overwhelming cuteness of his phone messages they called and a total of 11 kids said they were coming.

The day of the party nine kids showed up.  I don't know what's worse, not RSVPing or RSVPing and then not coming.  Whatever.  We had the party at my grandma's apartment building and we rented out the theater so the kids could have a private showing of Despicable Me.  Then they had pizza and cake and spent the next hour screaming fart jokes at each other.  If volume is any indicator a wonderful time was had by all.

Joseph had a great time. He cried a little bit when the last kid was picked up.  Ever since the party he's been asking if we can throw more parties this summer.  A end of summer party, a middle of summer party, a 4th of July party, a sprinkler party to make the neighborhood kids jealous.  We might do that last one.

And now to the other thing in my life, my teeth getting pulled out.  Not much to tell about that since I was knocked out for the procedure.  All I remember is that a nurse came in to give me some laughing gas and somehow we got to talking about me being a surrogate.  She was asking all these questions and I was rambling on and on and I don't even remember most of what I said.  Then she said she was going to start my IV medication and then I started to feel really woozy.  I joked "Now I'm going to start telling you all the really embarrassing stuff!"  Pause.  "Like one time I..." and then I don't remember what I said after that so there's a very good possibility that the nurse knows something about me that I would rather she did not.

My mouth feels weird with the missing teeth.  I have to wait two months until I can see about implants so for now I sort of mumble/talk without opening my mouth much because I don't want people to see the gaps.  They're far back so I suppose it's not totally obvious but still, I sort of hate it.

And now I will close out this long boring post with a cute thing Elle says: She calls bumper stickers "bumper car stickers".

Two years ago today I got out of the hospital.
Five years ago today my kids were in a parade.

Friends, playmates and other enemies

Joseph is having his first ever birthday party with friends this coming Saturday.  We're having it a month early so that he was able to pass out invitations before school ended.  This is the first year he as really expressed an interest in a friend party.  Like most things with Joseph, once he got interested in the idea he got REALLY interested in.  This party is his current fixation.

We allowed Joseph to invite 13 kids to the party.  So far six have RSVPed with five yeses and one no.  I don't know if people just don't RSVP anymore or if all the other kids are not coming and their parents just aren't going to call.  We've already tried to set the groundwork so that he wouldn't be too sad if most of the kids can't come.  "It's a busy time of year.  There are lots of graduation parties and weddings and family vacations that people have to go to." and "You can have a really great party with six people.  That's a perfect number!"

To myself though I'm pleading with the universe to please let more kids come to this party.  It means so much to Joseph.  He's been working so hard and planning so much.  He wants the people that come to his party to enjoy themselves.  He wants to enjoy himself.  A big part of that will is dependent upon the people he likes being there with him.  He's such a sweet kid.  I just want him to have a fun party and be happy with the outcome.

We're dealing with bigger issues right now too though.  Elle is the youngest kid in our neighborhood and she's been picked as The Kid To Leave Out Of All The Fun.  The main instigator in all of this is the neighborhood brat across the street.  Most of the other kids on their own are decent enough kids but when the brat is around they tend to bend to her will.  Elle asks if she can join in with them when they play and they say no.  She asks if they want to come over and they say no.  If the brat is around that is.  Again, on their own they're nicer.

The brat is mean and manipulative.  She bribes the other kids in the neighborhood into not playing with Elle.  I have heard her offer the kids candy and Popsicles to get them to come to her house and not play with Elle.  The other day Elle was playing with the another little girl across the street and the brat came outside and saw them playing together.  She went inside and had her parents set her sprinkler up in the yard.  Then she came over and invited the other little girl to come over for a "sprinkler party".  Elle eagerly asked if she could come too.  "Please?" she chirped.  "I can go get my swimsuit on now!"

"You're not invited.  It's just a sprinkler party for my friends and we're going to have Popsicles too."

Elle cried and came back home.  The brat's mom stood in her front yard and watched all this and never said a word.  She just turned on the sprinkler and went inside.  Elle and I played a board game but she occasionally cast a wistful glance out the front window when the sounds of screams and laughter drifted across the street.

I've promised Elle that we will have plenty of sprinkler parties of our own and that I will make her the homemade lemonade popsicles that she loves.  And when the brat comes over to ask if she can join in (and she will) I have given Elle permission to say no and to be as rude as she wants about it.  Please don't tell me to be the bigger person here.  My daughter is sweet and tender hearted and it's in her nature to be kind.  She reminds me of myself when I was young.  "What's that? You want to kick me in the teeth?  Ok, but I still want to be your friend ok?"  I want Elle to know she doesn't have to take crap from people and do it with a smile.

Right now I'm on a mission to get a playground set for Elle.  All the families around us have them and all the kids play on each other's playgrounds.  Our yard has a big garden and an apple tree and a dying grape vine.  Wonderful for us but not so great for attracting playmates.  Those playground sets are expensive so I'm trying to find a used one. We have neighbors with a nice one I've offered to buy but they're undecided.  They have no young kids but I think they want to hang on to it just in case their kids have kids soon.  So now I'm scouting craigslist for a playground to help make Elle more popular.

Oy.  This was not a part of parenting that I was prepared for.

 How could anyone say no to these little dolls?

One year ago today my kids cleaned the bathroom.
Three years ago I added a chapter to Joseph's adoption story.

We've got spirit?

It's Spirit Week at the kid's school this week.  The idea behind Spirit Week is that every day the kids wear different thing to school to match that day's theme.  Hat day, school color day, beach day, crazy hair day, career day, stuff like that.  That's how it's supposed to work.

Here's how Spirit Week works for us: Monday morning I send Joseph off to school.  That afternoon I go to pick him up.  As I walk into the school I notice that all around me are kids dressed as doctors or mermaids or chefs.  "Oh shit!" I think to myself.  "We missed Spirit Week AGAIN!"  When I walk into the office Joseph is sitting there surrounded by tiny trial lawyers and pop singers.  He looks a little ticked off.  "I'm so sorry buddy!" I gush. "We'll do all the other Spirit Days, I promise!"

Then we go home and look at the list describing the themes for the rest of the week and Joseph decides he doesn't want to do anything other than Hat Day anyway because the rest of them are "too weird".

And that's Spirit Week.

In other news totally unrelated to anything yesterday Elle had a tick behind her ear.  I didn't think it was really attached so I tried to pull it off of her.  It's body came off but it's head did not.  So then I had to dig the head out.  Elle is over-dramatic and kind of doesn't handle pain well so the whole affair involved a lot of crying and whimpering.  I'm sort of over-dramatic and I don't handle my children's pain well so the whole affair also involved a lot of gagging and trying not to cry.  I had to shut the windows so the neighbors wouldn't hear all the drama and think BAD THINGS were happening in the house.

Oh, that reminds me!  Sad news!  Our second favorite neighbors just put their house up for sale.  Our favorite neighbors are the people who have us over for beers on the deck during the summer but our second favorite neighbors are the ones who's children think my children are going to hell.  How sad is that?  Those are the nicest people in our neighborhood.  But really, they are good neighbors and their kids are super sweet and we will all be sad to see them go.

But back to the tick.  After much drama we got the stupid tick head out and then we ate some chocolate to make ourselves feel better.  All that's left is a red sore spot from where I was digging around.  This morning Elle asked me to comb her hair to cover the spot up.  I did and then she put on a witch hat because today is Crazy Hat day.

One year ago today I shared a terrible picture of myself.
Four years ago today Joseph was sick.
Five years ago today Elle ate a lemon.

Facebook is like the rapture

I suppose I had better blog something.  If the rapture come I don't want the last post on this blog to be one with a bunch of terrible pictures of me.

The fact is, social media is killing this blog.  And by "social media" I mean "facebook".  I made a conscious decision a couple of years ago to unplug from Twitter and stop trying to "build" my "brand" but I'm sort of addicted to facebook.  And not just because of FarmVille!  I like the instant feedback and connection that if offers.

Everyone knows commenting is down.  I used to get 10-20 comments on a post.  Now I get two or three.  And I'm not complaining because I know that's just how it is.  I'm guilty of not commenting.  Like, ever.  Even with my very favorite bloggers I just read, smile and mark as read.

But on facebook I comment and "like" and share and interact.  If I have something I want to share with the world these days it just seems so much easier to do it there.  I have over 500 facebook friends.  If I feel like everyone who wants to know anything about me is probably friends with me on facebook so they can just read about my life there.  Except my mother in law.  She reads my blog but she's not on facebook.  And that's ok.  We need the distance.  Otherwise daughter-in-law Jen and social media Jen would collide and I just can't handle that.

So facebook is taking over.  I can deal with that.  But I love this blog and I'm not willing to let it die so easily.  I have to make more of an effort to update it.  (Assuming that tomorrow I don't find myself spending all eternity in the fiery pits of hell...) I started this blog mainly as a record of my children's lives (hence the stupid url name) and if they ever read it someday I want them to think "Wow, our mom sure was delighted with us!" and not "Wow, our mom sure was easily distracted!  And why did she talk about her boobs so much?"

So, my darling children, if you ever read this, here is what you've been up to lately:

On Wednesday when I picked Elle up from school she had a missing tooth.  It had been loose and she pulled it out all by herself while she was supposed to be doing a math worksheet.  I'm a little sad I didn't get to be with her when she lost her first tooth but only a little sad since seeing loose teeth makes me feel a little gaggy.  I'm also a little sad that my baby is old enough to be losing teeth.  How did that happen so fast?

Joseph's class is going to be seeing a sex ed video on Monday.  His teacher sent home a slip this week for us to sign, giving him permission to see the video.  This is what was written at the top of the note:

It's like he's trying to tell me something ... When I told him that I wanted him to watch the video he said "I'm honestly shocked Mommy.  I never thought you would want me to see something like that."  I reassured him that the video would be appropriate for fourth graders but he's still pretty sure it's going to be terrible.  We reached a compromise where he will be in the room when the video is on but he doesn't have to look at the screen if he doesn't want to.  Nothing is simple with this child.  He sure is cute though.

One year ago today Jesse didn't read.
Two years ago today I had underwear in my fruit basket.
Three years ago today Joseph raised his eyebrows.

Raising atheists

Yesterday Elle told me that the little girls next door told her how the earth was made.  "There's a man who lives in the sky who made the earth and the water and even the animals.  I think his name is Odd."

I always struggle with moments like this.  The fact is I think I want to raise open minded kids but how open minded do I really want them to be?  If one of the kids came to me and said "Johnny said thunder is caused by a man in the sky with a big hammer" I wouldn't hesitate to correct them. I would want them to know the facts and to believe the facts and not a made up story.  I would have no problem saying "That's not true."

Joseph is kind of fascinated with the concept of religion and until fairly recently when we've talked about it I've always tried to be somewhat vague about what I believe.  I've used general terms like "some people think this" and "some people believe that".  Lately though Joseph has wanted specific answers.  He'll present me with something a friend of his has said and he wants to know what I think about it.  It's made me examine how I talk to my kids about religion and matters of faith.

For example, after the little girls next door told Joseph he would go to Hell if he didn't believe in God he wondered what I thought.  I didn't think that would be a good time to say "Gee son, some people believe that's true and gosh darn it, maybe they're right.  Who really knows?" so I told him straight out what I think.  I told him I don't believe that.  I told him that I don't believe in Hell and I don't believe in God and I don't believe anyone who lives a good life and tries to be kind to people will ever be punished after they die.  Once I came right out and said it he was really relieved.  "Good" he said "because I don't believe in all that stuff either."

Joseph deals in logic and concrete ideas.  He needed to know what I thought and once I told him he felt more comfortable exploring what he did and did not believe.  And the more we've discussed it the more it's caused me to examine how I express my beliefs to my children and to the people around me in general.

I have some weird issues about admitting I am an atheist.  I feel ... guilty about it.  No, that's not right.  But I don't know how else to describe it.  It's in my nature to try to look at everyone else's point of view.  I always try to think of how the other guy might see things.  I don't want to be so single minded that I start to think only my opinion is right and only my way of thinking is right and only my way of doing things is right.  Yes, of course I have my own opinions and ways of doing things but I try to be open minded and accepting.

There is a tiny part of me that feels like if I am honest with people about being an atheist it's like saying "You're ideas about religion are wrong and everything you believe in is wrong."  So when I discuss religion with my children my first instinct is to temper what I say.  "Some people believe..."  "Some people think..." I hesitate to say that oh, by the way, I think those things are false.

It occurred to me to me though today that the people next door have no problem telling their children "God created the world and and if you don't believe it you're going to Hell."  So why do I have a hard time telling my kids "There is a logic and a reason behind how the world came to be and science can explain how we got here and there is no man in the sky looking down on us and waiting to punish us for breaking the rules."?

After all, I have no problem trying to instill other beliefs in my children.  I want them to believe that it is important to be kind to others.  I want them to believe that it's not ok to hit or to be hit.  I want them to believe that vegetables are delicious but that chocolate is ok once in while too.  I want them to believe that you should stand up for what you believe in.  I want them to believe that reading is fun is and education is important and that you should never stop learning.  I want them to believe that two plus two equals four.  I want them to be thoughtful and logical.

So when Elle told me that a man named Odd created the world I shut off that little part of me that felt guilty for admitting what I believe.  I looked her right in the eye and I told her "I don't believe that's true sweetie.  I think it's ok that they think it's true but that just doesn't make sense to me."  I used her interest in dinosaurs and fossils to help explain how scientists were able to prove that the earth had been around a long time.  She's a very smart little girl and she even threw in some of her own ideas.  "And we know some dinosaurs evolved from other dinosaurs and that's how animals evolved too?"

I realize that at this point I'm still the most influential person in my children's lives.  I struggle with that responsibility at times.  But I have to face up to it.  I want my children to be logical, open minded, free-thinkers.  I have to set the ground work for that.  We live in an area that is fairly religious and conservative.  If I don't take the responsibility to let them know it's ok to question things and to think differently from the people around you then who will?

Odd knows it's not going to be the neighbors.

Two years ago today I was random.
Four years ago today Elle was beautiful.
Six years ago today I had eye jelly issues.

It-sa Friday

Never let anyone tell you that people with Aspergers don't have a sense of humor.  This afternoon Joseph serenaded me with a rendition of Friday with Rebecca Black as Jar Jar Binks.

"Riding in the front-sa seat, kickins in the back-sa seat, which seat me-sa take? We, we, we-sa so excited, we-sa so excited!"

Teasing!

Joseph has discovered teasing.

More accuratly, he has discovered that he can accuse people of teasing him.  If I had a dollar for every time he has screamed at us "You're teasing me!" in the last week I could afford to take the luxury cruise I need to take in order to recover from, um, this last week.

He yells at us that we're teasing him if we say anything about him.  Anything.  Even good things.  When I mentioned to Jesse the other day what a good job Joseph had done on his spelling test Joseph shreiked from the living room "You're teasing me!  You're saying I'm not good at math and that's teasing!"  When I tried explaining to him how I was not teasing him he accused me of teasing him by saying he didn't know what teasing was.

We even get accused of teasing when we're not talking about him.  Yesterday at dinner Elle was saying that if you went outside without a hat on then you might get snow on your hair.  "You're teasing me!" Joseph yelled.  "You're saying that because sometimes I don't wear a hat and I get snow on my head and that's teasing!"

When I told him a story about a time I was a kid and I fell off my bike?  Teasing.

When I asked him if he wanted peanut butter on his toast?  Teasing.

When I reminded him to put his school book away in his backpack?  Teasing.

When I said I thought a preview for a new movie looked dumb?  Teasing.

When I said the next person to accuse someone of teasing was going to have to sleep in the garage?  Teasing. Teasing! TEASING!

Oddly enough we're still able to do our "Rudest Family Ever" routine* without being accused of teasing.

I'm not sure if this is a case of him genuinely misreading what's really going on or if it's him being a little manipulative and trying to get a reaction out of us.  Either way it's driving me bonkers and I don't know how to get it to stop.  I suspect that like many things Joseph related it will just have to run it's course.  For whatever reason he needs to try this out and see how it feels.

I'm trying to be sensitive to the fact that really doesn't always get social cues and interactions.  It's possible that he really does think we're teasing him when we talk to him or about him... or dare to take a breath in the same room as him.  It's possible that he's sensitive about something else and he needs to get that out and screeching at us about teasing is a easy way for him to release some tension.  It's also possible that he's just being kind of a butt right now.

Whatever the case we're all kind of walking on eggshells right now.  No one wants to be the next one to incur the wrath of Joseph. 

Teasing!

*I taught this to the kids and it goes like this:
Person 1: That movie looks funny! (This can be substituted with any number of things looking any number of ways.  Cheese looking moldy, water looking dirty, car looking fancy, whatever.)
Person 2: You look funny!
Person 1: Your face looks funny!
Person 2: Your butt looks funny!
We are sophisticated and elegant.

Two years ago today my face collapsed.
Three years ago today Elle wanted malk.