Bragging Rights and Butt Cheeks

My children all make me proud in their own ways.  We encourage (possibly beg and pressure) them to do their best.  We ask them to look at their work and ask themselves if they honestly tried- regardless of the outcome.  Here is one story where Michael, my youngest, managed to 'knock one out of the park'.

Last spring, Michael was selected to attend a leadership camp by the staff at his high school.  Our local rotary club asked for students who aren't normally recognized for their achievements, but deserve an opportunity to excel and tap into their 'inner leader'.  Two students from each public high school were chosen by their staff to attend this 3 day camp-compliments of the Appleton Rotary club.  Mike was interviewed after the nomination, and the paperwork was completed.  The camp opportunity was used as motivation (more like held over his head) for the next 4 months.  More than once we looked at him and said:

"Mike, the staff at North see something special in you.  They think you are a leader.  Do you really want to throw away that honor over some stupid ________?" (We had plenty of opportunities during those 4 long months.)

Finally, we sent the boy off to camp early one Friday morning.  My heart pounded all weekend.  Would he fit in?  Is he learning something about himself?  Is he having fun?  Dear God, please let him keep his temper in check!!

Michael returned on Sunday evening tired, happy and inspired.  Being a typical teenage boy, we got few initial details, but as days passed, he would share stories.  He really enjoyed himself and seemed to learn a thing or two.

In early November- the Appleton Rotary Club had a luncheon to celebrate the Rotary Youth Leadership Camp held earlier the previous month.  Each students was asked ahead of time (if they felt comfortable) to speak about their personal experience.

I had prodded Mike for weeks about writing a speech.  I told him it would be easier if he had something prepared and on paper.  I told him he owed the Rotary Club a few minutes of his day normally spent playing video games!  He balked and finally relented 5 days before the luncheon.  His original version had some great comments and statements, but it literally documented his days moment by moment.  We revamped it together on Monday afternoon (the day before the meeting), and he practiced reading it aloud Monday night.  He had a fit when we queued him to slow down and enunciate.  Monday night ended with Mike in a fury, John frustrated and me stewing silently between them.  I didn't have a lot of confidence about how the luncheon was going to go the next day. 

So on to the luncheon-

The first 5 students stepped up, introduced their parents and then briefly spoke about their experience. Most kids praised the new friends they had made and still keep in contact with. Everyone spoke off the cuff and did a great job.

I’m listening to these 5 students speak, dressed in nice clothes,and doing a fine job.  Mike is in dress pants and a tie to my left.  I won’t even look at him for fear he's is going to start whispering to me in a grouchy voice- “See Mom, you made me do all this for nothing!  I didn’t have to write a stupid 5 minute speech!! And why the hell am I in a tie?”  So- I chose not to look back at him.

Finally- Mike steps up to the podium and says in a small clear voice :

“I wrote a speech for today.” 

(I was relieved he didn't start out with "My MOM made me write a stupid speech!")

Suddenly- with the voice of a man I had never heard before...speaking with a confidence I didn't know he had in him...read his speech:

I would first like to offer my gratitude and thanks to both the Appleton Rotary Club and also to the staff at North High school who chose me for this experience of a lifetime. I wish every student could have this type of opportunity. Through the course of two and a half days I not only discovered what a leader is, but I found the leader within me.

You must understand- I am not the typical high school Senior. I have Asperger Syndrome. This form of autism gives me the benefit of normal abilities and intelligence-but I personally struggle with understanding sarcasm, anger and social issues in a typical high school atmosphere. I’m not a straight-A student, I’m not popular, I ran cross country and will do track this spring. I simply try to do the best I can every day.

When I was invited to this camp I wondered why my teachers would select me for this honor? My parents and teachers told me not to worry, that I would figure it out once I got to camp. This camp was the first time I have ever been in a safe, positive environment surrounded by kids my own age.

When I first got to Camp Manitowish, it took a little time to get use to the fact that I was on my own. After I dropped my gear in my cabin I was placed in the Zebra group. As a group, we did a little “black magic” to understand the importance of trust and following your gut and emotion. Although it took about two hours to understand the secrets of black magic, it was a fun experiment in mind reading and learning to trust your instincts.

I decided to do the discount double check right in front of the window leading to the dining hall before every meal. When we later went to the rope course to put our leadership skills into action, a girl from Spain did that discount double check move on top of the high ropes course. She didn’t know what that dance was about but she used it to celebrate her success on the course. Our group nearly set a record of milk crates stacked up high. It was great to work together as a group to (almost) achieve a record without any negativity- only encouragement from your teammates.

One of the funniest moments for me was an exercise using high school social groups. We were divided into several groups and received‘materials’ given to us by Rotarians. We did not know until later which group we were in. My group represented the Mentally Disabled. I honestly found it funny that I was randomly placed in that group because of my Asperger’s Syndrome. There was an important message taken from that exercise. We all discovered how hard it is to be part of only one social group in high school. It is better to be kind to everyone regardless of what they have or don’t have. That evening, our group had to create skits for the camp fire. We had to meet the requirements of:
 
1) Is it the truth?
2) Is it fair?
3) Will it build friendships?
4) Is it beneficial?

In our skit- all of us took clothing from a pile but one girl couldn’t get to the pile and ended up with nothing. We restarted the skit and placed all the clothes back on the pile. As the clothing was handed out the second time, the girl would ask for an item of clothing and it was given to her. In the end there was enough clothing to keep everyone warm. All of the campers had to determine if each skit met the ‘Rotary 4 Way test’.

Our final team Zebra project was to make a tea out of materials in nature. We decided to make a bubblegum tea. I’m not saying it tasted good- but I will say that after the cold weather and snow- the fire we had to build felt really good on our frozen hands! As the weekend drew to a close, I was dreading the farewells I would have to say. I reminded myself that there is never a final goodbye, only new beginnings. This camp helped me see that if you surround yourself with positive people, you will be positive too.

This experience was something I will cherish for the rest of my life. If you ask me now about what makes a true leader I would say:” A true leader is one who endures.” Leadership doesn’t from come leading people but by standing right next to them and telling them "I am here to help you." They are people who care about the others around them before themselves. I hope I can be one of those leaders.

Thank you to both the Rotary Club and the staff at North for helping me discover the flame within me. As I face my future, I will ask myself- Is it the truth? Is it fair? Will it build friendships? and Is it beneficial to everyone? These are great questions to live by.

Thank you

Okay- so by the second paragraph-I am in serious butt cheek clenching mode.  I learned this trick a few years ago from a dear friend...clench your butt cheeks so you don't cry- and it seriously works!! 

Still-I have a tear falling down my cheek that thankfully is away from the crowded room.  I’m certain my water proof mascara has failed.  I fear I am being a overly emotional mother until I glance across the room and see women wiping their eyes, and men swallowing pretty hard.  I know my husband is trying to maintain his manly composure, but I'm certain he's close to loosing it too.

After Mike was finished, the lady who had introduced each student could barely speak as she closed the presentation.  The president of the Rotary spoke last, looked at Michael and simply said with a choked voice “Michael, you ARE a leader!”

As the crowd rose to leave, we were basically surrounded by well wishers, hand shakes, kind words and big smiles with teary eyes.  This is a moment of a lifetime for me.  My youngest child had prepared a speech (although it took a bit of fighting), stood in front of a crowd, spoke clearly and straight from his heart. 

He did far more in 5 minutes that I had ever hoped for.  I just wanted him to speak like he didn't have a mouth full of marbles, express his gratitude to a wonderful community club, and share his profound experience with them. 

Even now- 2 months later- I tear up as I write this blog.  He could go on to be President of the United States, but I would be prouder of who he is right now- at this moment in time. 
 

Moral of the story?  Never... never ever, underestimate what your child can accomplish!  I once prayed this boy would be able to use words over sign language (or fists).  Speak calmly rather than scream (or swear).  I once hesitated to take him in public for fear of melt downs, but have seen him speak to a room full of strangers- and touch their hearts.   He didn't accomplish these things alone, it truly took hundreds of people to raise this boy (man).  I can't begin to name all the adults (and even some patient children) who have guided him through the years.  Every child has unknown abilities within them.  It is our jobs as adults to help them tap into those possibilities- what ever they might be. 

I hope that someday Michael will be a public speaker in some capacity...in some form...even if he only does it one more time before I die.  I want him make me clench my butt cheeks like he did at that luncheon. 

My deepest thanks to the staff at North High School and the Appleton Rotary Club for showing me parts of my child I didn't know where even in there. 

Oops!!

"I make mistakes- in fact- I make lots of mistakes."

There I said it. I'm sure I don't say it often enough to appease my family- but I feel obligated to confess to you all out there in 'reader land'.

My first mistake was avoided on December 23rd.  I had forgotten that I volunteered to bring the ham for Christmas Eve dinner.  John's parents came over for the weekly breakfast from Hardee's on Sunday morning.  When Grandma asked me if I had thawed the ham yet, a light bulb went off in mind!  I thought I had masked my expression- but John called my bluff later in the morning as I flew down to the freezer to pull out the ham.  "You forgot, didn't you?  I saw your eyes shoot open when Mom asked you about the ham." 

I looked that man square in the eyes and said in my most convincing tone- "Absolutely NOT!"

He didn't buy it- but he left it well enough alone- I've trained him well!

I was lucky this time- a few years ago we arrived at the family super bowl party without the casserole I had promised to make a month earlier.  I was so ashamed when the Aunts had to run to the Piggly Wiggly to pick up hot beef and turkey to replace my missing Party Chicken casserole.  They said it was alright- but I knew I was in the doghouse when they refused to let me ride along and at least buy the meat and buns.  I'm sure my name was tossed around angrily during that car ride!

My biggest oops occurred on Monday, December 24th. 

Now in my defense- I had already started 3 separate appetizers and dishes before 6 am- I had been busy and it was early in the morning! I started the coffee pot and noticed that the pill boxes were empty but neither boy was awake yet.  Mike's box is blue, Andy's box is white. They both take completely different medicines- various shapes, colors and numbers.

I assumed victory because for once I wasn't going to hear "Moooooooooom, my pill box is empty!" I counted out the pills, tablets, and caplets for the week.  Blue box, then white box.

The kids woke, showered, dressed, ate breakfast and then headed over to Grandma and Grandpa's to help them prepare for the company they were expecting.  We had a few spats before they left me. 

Mike was mad because Andy took to long in the shower (Helloooooo, he always does that!).  Andy was miffed when I suggested his Mountain Dew t-shirt wasn't dressy enough for the holidays (Jeez Mom, its green!)- etc, etc.

As I did the dishes and cleared the counters, I checked the pill boxes. Both had taken their pills with breakfast- victory!!!  But then it hit me....

Mike's pill were in the wrong box- oh crap- Andy's pills are in the wrong box- double crap! 

I had swapped the pill boxes!  "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!!" (but I didn't really say crap)" Silent prayer quickly ensued...

Dear God,

Hi, it's me- Amy.  Once again, I'm trying to lose my mother of the year title...

Anyways, I want to thank you for the gimme with the puppies.  I don't know which one actually has worms since they both like to poop in the hallway- but I appreciate the fact that you let me see the worm in the poop before the vet bills piled up. 

That said, if I could be so bold- I mixed up the boys pills.  I'm not planning to tell anyone- just in case there isn't any problems. No sense yelling fire in a crowded room if its only a lit candle- right?  If you could find it in your heart to make tonight go smoothly- I'll try not to take your name in vain for a while.  I mean- well- you know what goes on here during the holidays!  Its chaotic enough for the boys without this kind of snafu.  So if you could make this right, I'd be grateful.

Amen

A few hours later, John and I went over to his parents house.  I assumed all was well because they live just around the corner.  No one called, no one came stomping home in a huff.  Surely my Christmas miracle had been granted.

We walk in to find Mike losing at cribbage. He's grouchy, but maintaining his cool.  Grandpa, Kelsey and Grandma are taking his attitude in stride.  Everyone assumes it just the stress of the holidays playing out in Michael.

Suddenly, Andy comes flying out of the bedroom:

"MomDadtheScoobyDooshowison. Ijustlovethatshow. Itistheonewiththemarketingmayhemandtheevilvilianis........"

Although Andy is in good spirits, someone appears to have hit his fast forward button!!  After assessing the situation, I determine that things are going well in spite of my 6am error.  It could be so much worse!

Kelsey, ever attuned to her brothers, asked me if I noticed how the boys were acting differently.  I looked her square in the eye and said "I don't see anything different".  She isn't as well trained as her father.  She called my bluff and eventually I had to confess that I had swapped the pill boxes.  She immediately defended me by asking the obviously question....

"How the heck did they NOT notice the different pills in their box? Are they blind?!!"

I had been so busy feeling guilty that I forgot that it wasn't completely my fault after all!  These boys have been taking the exact same pills for 5+ years now.  Seriously?  You have to either be blind or a Pavlovian dog not to have noticed!

The evening continued with some bumps, but no bruises.  Their incorrect medications slowly wore off. Gifts were exchanged with the grandparents that immediately soothed their souls.  We went home early and plopped into our rooms and chairs.  Disaster averted and I hadn't taken the Lord's name in vain- not once!

Andy had the deciding vote to open presents that Christmas eve or Christmas morning. We were unwrapping gifts by 5:30am Christmas morning.  Boys had the correct meds in them before their eyes were completely open.  The rest of the holidays continued without incident. 

Happy New Year everyone.  I hope this next year finds you healthy, happy and loved.

Sing it with me...An-tic-i-pation

Every child struggles with waiting.  Christmas, birthdays, special occasions, but most children struggle waiting for CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!!!

The early years in our house were simple. 

Santa brought everything and you had to wait for Santa. 

Kelsey figured things out in second grade.  When she finally asked 'the question'  I turned the tables on her and asked her who she thought brought all those presents every year.

"Grandpa and Grandmas."

Although their grandparents are wonderful people- I had to set her straight on that theory!  No way were they getting total credit for that doll house and billions of dollars in Barbie gear.

Michael was about the same age when it occurred to him that things weren't quite kosher.  We sat him down and explained that Santa was everywhere and more a spirit of giving and loving than a real person.

Kelsey and Mike really seemed to enjoy keeping Santa's spirit in our home for many years.  Although their brother was almost the same age, they played along and it was sweet to see them with big grins on their faces Christmas morning as they watched Andy sing Santa's praises.

Andy was about 13 when it became obvious that this man-child standing in Target's toy section was a bit to old to be telling me that Santa should bring him a new set of Sponge Bob figurines.  I couldn't alter his wish list, but it was getting a bit embarrassing for his siblings.  The tricky part was being certain that he didn't break every child's heart around him.  We practiced whispering about Santa at home, in public, and how we didn't use the phrase "Santa isn't real" anywhere!! 

Once Andy caught on, the holidays became trickier.  I couldn't just put presents under the tree. The first year I tried that- Mike wasn't shocked by a single present.  I went through a whole roll scotch tape well after I was done wrapping because Mike was covering his tracks. We knew what he was doing, and he learned a valuable lesson.  It wasn't as much fun to know what you were getting- before you even got it.

What could I do?! I first tried hiding them at my in-laws house.  Apparently the boys had scoped out our home and found no evidence.  One visit we found Andy searching his grandparents closets- looking for their unwrapped gifts!!  Luckily, we beat him to the hiding place!

One successful year I hid them in the neighbor's basement. Unfortunately- I fell in the driveway trying to bring back a laundry basket full of gifts and almost broke a lava lamp!!  It had to be a sight to watch John and I placing gifts under the tree after shaking each package and checking them for leaks and possible crunchy noises.

The past few years I have developed a method that I find ingenious- my kids think it is borderline cruel.  Over the past few holidays I have:

1) Wrapped all the gifts and wrote a different child's name on the tag.  Kelsey's presents were actually Mike's- Andy's gifts were really Kelsey's- etc.

That year I'm certain Mike was frustrated.  I know he sneaked a peak into one package a day before Christmas that had a hairdryer inside.  Mike had a buzz cut at the time.

2) Numbered all the packages- no names. Just 1,2,3, etc.  I hid the master list and only told a few girlfriends where it was (in case I got hit by a bus, or forgot myself!)

My intention was for each child to take a turn and watch their sibling open their gift.  This solution had its set backs.  For some reason, in the commotion I lost track.  Each child opened at least one gift that was meant for someone else.  It was funny to see Andy open a set of earrings and say "Here Kelsey, I think these are for you."

3) This year- I wrapped each child's gift in a specific gift wrap.  The wrap is gender generic. Each set of wrapped gifts simply has a number on it written with a Sharpe marker.  This is the actual order I want each gift opened to make the planned surprises much better. 

The gifts aren't under the tree this year.  Heck- we only put up 1/2 of the tree.  The 6 month old puppies would eat the ornaments, and Milo would probably try to water the tree if is wasn't tie-wrapped to a side table and protected by a baby fence.  All the gifts are in a pile on my desk in the bedroom.  They are all securely taped, and some are strategically wrapped to throw off any inquiring minds. 

Kids-with or without a label- have a hard time with anticipation (good and bad).  Over the early years, I witnessed massive melt downs because they need to get through 3 more days, picked up one boy from school after being in a fight because he couldn't handle the stress, was told he will die because everyone else already has the game, and said "No, no, NO!" until I am blue in the face.  It never goes smooth, but it doesn't last forever.  We stick to the game plan, ride the waves, and help them practice self control.  If they don't master these skills now- life will be rough. 

Sometimes I sing "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones and other times I look them in the eyes and sing "Anticipation" by Carley Simon.  It is my coping mechanism because music soothes my soul.  Warning- it usually invokes death stares from a child. 

Our jobs as parents is to challenge them, reward them, encourage them, and most of all- love them.  Once we lost the 'Santa Claus effect' I struggled to help my boys deal with anticipation, waiting, and patience.  Christmas time generates 'anticipation stress' for them. I don't want to be cruel (although I giggle each year when I come up with a new idea) I just want them to be surprised, happy and think we are the Greatest Parents on Earth come Christmas morning- not some random day in November or December when they took a peak!

Merry Christmas everyone- may you be surprised this holiday and (if you are lucky enough to have children of you own) be declared the Greatest Parents on Earth!

Hope, Strength, Courage, Comfort, and Kleenex.

Something tragic happened in Connecticut. I know everyone has been mortified to witness this horrible event. I have cried for the families, the children, the public responders, and the staff.

This is where my heart went....

Dear teacher, therapists, administrators, paraprofessionals, psychologists, speech pathologist, librarians, nurses, secretaries, reading specialists, police liaisons, guidance counselors, social workers, or volunteer who has shared a single moment with one of my children....THANK YOU.

I don't doubt for a moment that you have done your best for my child.  I may not have agreed with you all the time, but you were patient with me and especially my children.  I know that if something terrifying like what happened on the East Coast were to happen here- you would gladly lay down your life to protect any child you could.

I have the greatest respect for your profession.  I have worked within your realm and marveled at your spirit, perseverance, humor and creativity.  I gave birth to my children...you made a conscious choice to work with them....THANK YOU.

Amy B.

We have been blessed to be in the same school district for over 17 years.  I worked in a few of the buildings for 6 of those years.  

The first few teachers gave me comfort as I struggled with behaviors, sign language, potty training, rude comments from strangers, and frustration that clouded my soul.  They all helped us set goals that were achievable, showed phenomenal patience as we tried to figure out what did and didn't work, and supported us at every turn.  A few teachers even provided loving protection for my daughter during a very dark time in our family.  Years passed and teachers would see positive things in my children that hadn't even occurred to us.  Many times we were feeling beat down, hopeless- but these professionals would force us to focus on the positive progress.  Not one of them have ever given up on us. 

I count many of my children's educators as my friends.  They have come to graduations, birthdays, and someday they will be at a wedding or two.  Some have a valid claim to spots in the front row at one wedding or another.  I have sat and cried with them in classrooms, kept them late after school for numerous meetings, attended one teacher's wedding, drank a beer or two with many of them, fought the crowds on Black Friday, and watched quite a few sporting events to cheer on a sports team (the last few were under the disguise of a neighboring district). 

What each and every one of them did was give us hope, strength, courage, comfort, and more times than I care to admit- Kleenex. 

I honestly don't know where we would be without their support and guidance. 

My heart breaks for the families of everyone involved in Connecticut.  Someday soon, those professionals, educators, and volunteers are going to have to welcome back a group of children and give them a colossal amount of hope, strength, courage, comfort and Kleenex.

Prayers for the world.

Kisses of Normalcy

This commercial is one of the few commercials that I am extremely grateful still shows every holiday season. Amongst all the chaos of raising the kids, there were some special moments too. Every year I am reminded of one through this commercial.

Andy wasn't one to watch much television beyond Barney and Sesame Street. He had to be 4 years old the first time this commercial caught his attention. As the bells began to ring across the screen, he squealed with delight and started to giggle. From that day on, no matter where he was in the apartment, he came plowing towards the television like a bull looking for the matador's red cape. He would knock down his sister, pull down table lamps, and once tipped over his chair during lunch. Nothing could stop him once he caught a note of those bells. He would center himself at the screen and watch the 15 second commercial with awe.

More than once I had to quickly hit mute after bedtime or he would coming running from his room.

We bought bells and left them near the television so he could 'play along' with the commercial. His joy was the same every time. With his big belly giggles and huge smile- he looked....normal. It was a treat to see him so enthralled and focused in his happiness.

But as suddenly as the song ended, the smile faded. He would return to whatever trouble he was pursuing beforehand. The moment was gone. I wish I had the technology back then- that is available to us now. Between DVRs and camera phones, I would be watching that moment over and over again. But perhaps it is better that I didn't have the ability to capture that moment. I think I would be stuck...

Every parent wonders "what if?" "How would he/she look if they didn't have________?" That commercial was the first glimpse of what Andy could have been. He had been diagnosed only a few months earlier. I was busy trying to make him blend into some definition of normal, desperate to crack open his shell and break down the walls of autism.

It is a very hard habit to break- the habit of wishing for something else. Wanting something better. Wondering if it will ever get better. Praying for a miracle.

Slowly I started to push past the wishing and hoping. I moved toward celebrating the small steps forward and forgetting the numerous steps backwards. Andy was Andy, Mike was Mike. Their future wasn't written in stone and thrown into the ocean.

Although I would love to see that little boy standing in front of my television set every time the Hershey Kisses start to play- I have come to terms with my "what ifs". I've moved on to "My god, look at them now!" I am content with my memory, I'm happy with what my boys have become.

But now when that stupid commercial comes on...BAM- I'm thrown back in time- wishing and wondering- for just a moment. It is easier to cope as the years move past me. I know I used to cry quietly the first few years this commercial played. It was painful those next few years because the commercial never captured Andy's attention again. Now, it just triggers my mind's eye. It is 1996 again and I almost reach for the mute button so bed time won't be disrupted.

I wrap myself in the goodness of what it is- a great moment featuring Andy.

Moral of the story- enjoy this time if you are graced with a special needs child. Try to hold on to the good memories, let go of the bad ones. Difficult moments will seem to outnumber the great ones- until one day you will find a way to cope as you look back. I perfer to see the humor. It may take decades to master- but the world is a much better place to be in when you focus on Hershey Kisses and belly laughs rather than diagnoses, backward steps and definitions of normal.

Beanie Baby Hell

When Andy was about 2 years old, Beanie Babies were just coming into the market.  His godmother bought him his first one.  Since then, we have accumulated close to 3 large laundry baskets heaped full of them! 

He has them everywhere.  On his dresser, in his headboard, and his current favorites are in basket at the bottom of his closet.  He knows exactly which ones he has in stock, and is constantly searching grocery store displays, department stores, and the internet for new additions to his collection.

Not one of them are valuable.  When he gets one he immediately cuts off the heart shaped tag and the smaller tag that is sewn into a side seam.  He never forgets their names, and tags just get in the way.

I've taught him to save links on his computer when he finds a new one he would like.  Just last month I looked through his list to buy him some birthday gifts.  He asked for Rex the dinosaur, Stinger the scorpion, and Spinner the spider.

I HATE SPIDERS!

I have an uncontrollable fear of any form of spiders.  Plastic, real, big, small- it does not matter.  If anything ever happens to my husband, I will need to fill the 'spider killer' opening before I plan the funeral.  If I see that the movie Arachnophobia is going to be showing- I write the time and channel down on a note and tape it to the remote.

Andy had Spinner the spider many years ago.  To most- it is this 5 inch soft, innocent little bean bag with 8 legs and gold and black stripes.  To me, it was something that jumped out of no where while I was cleaning his room and picking up dirty laundry.  I jumped every single time and fled like the chicken that I am. 

A friend gladly accepted the donation to her first grade classroom full of brave little 6 year olds a few years ago.  I was glad to be rid of him, and I never told Andy.  Oh sure, he looked and looked, but eventually he gave up the search.

So when he asked for the dinosaur, scorpion and spider for his birthday this year- I started looking online.  Do you know that when you type specific names of beanie babies, the first 12 hits are usually actual images of the beanie?  Well I jumped in my chair every time some one inch photo popped up on my screen (in 12 different angles and distances from the camera).

I couldn't do it.  I decided to tell Andy that is wasn't for sale anymore.  I LIED!

When he opened his gifts the other night, he was thrilled with his T-rex and scorpion.  He said "To bad they don't sell Spinner any more.  Oh well."  And off to his room he went.

20 minutes later he calls down from the top of the stairs-

"Hey Mom!  Guess What!  I found Webster the spider!"

"?!?!?!?!?"

I haven't seen that black beanie baby tarantula in years!  It must have been in the basement baskets. 

I need to go in that room someday soon.  I am terrified!!!





 

How did you do that?

My boys are early risers.  Most mornings are quiet, peaceful and calm.  Each boy has time alone to eat breakfast, brush their teeth, shave, etc.

This morning Andy was running a bit late- 5 minutes late. This alteration meant both boys were at the pill box at the same time.

Andy:  Michael, I need to get my pills!

Michael:  Just a minute Andy-jeez!

(I'm in the living room watching the news)

Me:  Guys...guys...guys!  NOBODY TALK TO ANYBODY!

Michael comes into the living room and plops into the couch. Unfortunately this keeps him in Andy's line of sight and within ear shot.

Andy:  Michael- that's better.  You need to keep out of my way!

Michael:  Andy, who the hell are you to tell me what to do?!

Me:  That is ENOUGH!  Michael, no swearing!

Andy: (in his best sarcastic tone)  Yeah Michael, no swearing!

Michael starts to growl, his body tenses up, his hands turn into fists.  At this point I'm forced to get off my fat arse and stand in front of Michael, demanding eye contact.

Me:  Just... Let... It... Go.

Michael:  He can't talk to me like that!

Me:  Michael, he's autistic. 

Michael:  SO AM I!!!

Me: Not like him, duh!

Michael stops for a moment to ponder that and finally I see his shoulders drop, a smirk crossed his face. 

Michael:  How did you just do that?

Me: Do what?

Michael:  Trick me into wishing I was more autistic?

Me:  What can I say- its a gift!

We both had a chuckle.  Andy however, wasn't quite finished...

Andy:  Miiiiiccchhhaaaeeell...if Kelsey were here, she would agree with me too!

Even Michael had to laugh Andy's attempt to get the last word.  I think my boys are growing up a little more than I tend to give them credit.  I think Kelsey would agree with me when I say "Happy Tuesday everyone!"