When frogs sing.

So my phone was charging in my bedroom today at lunch.

For one thing, we had YouTubed out the battery. Yes, it was one of those thanking-the-Steve-Jobs-of-the-universe kind of mornings.

For another thing... well.... It was lunch. I never need my camera for lunch. Who needs pictures of a half naked or pj-clad 5 year old who alternates between running in circles, being force fed or climbing on the table?

My kid is cute but he's not THAT cute.

So I didn't need my phone.

And then he sat down and ate a whole plate of shrimp scampi and pasta.

And begged for more of "those things."

He loved it so much he tried to eat the tails and learned the difference between edible and non-edible parts which, let's be real, he's still totally learning. (Cue the boy who broke off a piece of tree bark yesterday to eat it.)

So, he did this thing. This huge, insane, ridiculously cool thing.

And I can't prove it.

I'm having flashbacks to the Looney Tunes frog.

"Hello my darlin', hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaa-a-all!"

"Ribbit."

Yeah. That one.

I'd say there's always a next time but... Really? Ha.

Needless to say I grabbed my phone while I still had a chance, after I reveled in the moment, blew off the potential dietary ramifications and hoped upon hope for one shot of that cute dimpled face shoved full of a new exotic (aka non-pizza) food.

I didn't get one.

Naked boy was already outside.

I did get this one though; naked boy prepping his assault on Momma-Zombie.

 

<3

P.S. He thinks he's invisible here, so let's not tell him he's not.

And let's not mention the shrimp and pasta while we're at it. And maybe I'll get another shot at proving a frog in a top hat can sing.

Tonight's Prayer

May I never be so confident in myself that I cannot imagine losing.

May I never be so desolate that I cannot imagine tomorrow.

May I never be so arrogant that I cannot empathize with the most base of human beings.

May I never be so insecure that the arrogant obliterate my hope.

May I never have so much love that I cannot comprehend the pain of loneliness.

May I never be so unloved that I cannot remember the warmth of holding someone's hand.

May I never be so righteous that I cannot forgive.

May I never live unforgiven.

May I never rise so high above the pain and agony of others that I cannot reach out a hand to them when they fall.

May I never fall without someone helping me to rise again.

May I never despise the others for their weaknesses..

May I never be despised for mine..

May life never give me everything.

Nor take everything away.

May I always live life somewhere between the angels and dust, knowing I am both, and realizing I am neither.

<3

P.S. Sleepy time change Boy.

RIP London McCabe.

I need to talk about this. I need to talk about this murder. I need to talk about this heartbreak.

I don't NEED to judge her. A jury will. And everyone else. But I know that I also need to, instead of judging Jillian McCabe, spend my energy reaching out to other moms who have lost all hope.

Please hold on. Please, please, please. One more day. Make one more phone call. Please. Reach out your hand. Please

There's always something to be done. Someone to help. Somewhere to go. Always. Even if you can't see it. You have to believe. Hope.

As a group I ask this; let's not condemn her. Someone else will have that horrible job.

Instead let's talk about how she HAD been a patient. loving and caring mom. How her husband was dying. How she was facing homelessness. How she .... snapped...

And think about it.

I know humans are capable of horrible, horrible atrocities.

I know humans are capable of great beauty.

I believe humans are capable of being, and of creating, miracles.

I believe humans need help and prayer to be the better, and not the worse, of the race. They need support. They need hope.

So.

Today I pray for myself.
I pray what I always pray: that my fears never outrun my hope. And I pray a new prayer: I pray that I do not ever know the despair or brokenness that could drive a mother to do such a thing.

I pray for all of us reading about this tragedy.
That we use our sadness to motivate us, not our hate. That we open our hearts and our minds and look around us for someone who might need us. That we think of London and that our eyes are opened and we see those who are desperate. That we stretch our hands out to them, offering them a boost. Preventing another tragedy.

I also pray for other mothers headed down her path.
That you reach out for, and find, a strong hand to pull you back up onto a better path. I pray someone makes you a priority. That someone is there for you.

And little London.
Oh. My heart is broken for you. I can only pray that your end was swift. That you are at peace. And that you have an endless, glorious supply of hats in your new home.

RIP London McCabe.

<3

London McCabe. Lover of hats.

For more on the story:

http://www.kgw.com/story/news/local/central-coast/2014/11/03/woman-reportedly-throws-boy-off-bridge-in-newport/18446035/

Fears and Hope

My greatest fear isn't autism.

My greatest fear isn't DD classes.

Or wandering.
Or language disorders.
Or night terrors or meltdowns.

Or the restructuring of my dreams for our future.

My greatest fear is that I am entirely capable of helping him become one of the most amazing people I've ever known. But that I will fail him because I didn't know how to do better than I'm doing.

That there was a better therapy, a better supplement, a better lifestyle. A better way.

My greatest fear is that all the understanding, patience, love and brilliance that he needs is all within me, and I don't know how to tap into it.

My greatest fear is that I'm capable of being enough. I just don't know HOW to be.

My hope is that by filling up our days with the kind of pleasant mediocreness I pretend would exist if he were NT, I am finding our way to that brilliance he needs.

So.

We shop in our pjs.
Because he has a hard time with clothes.

We share ice cream.
Because he hasn't figured out how to lick the backside of his cone.

I let him carry baby toys around the store.

I repeat with him, line by line, his favorite movies.

I hold him in the tub when he's scared of the water eating him.

We yell. We giggle. We tickle.

We cry.


And I spend my days with him chasing hope.

And outrunning fear.

May I be ever swift.

<3 Spectrum Mom

Pic of my Boy. In his pjs. Hunting zombies. From the trunk of Grandma's car.

Which everyone knows is the best vantage point for hunting zombies.

 

Spectrum Mom's Yummy Caramel Apples.

Boo!!!

Halloween was awesome. But I didn't know it was going to be.

Most of the day I regretted my entirely impromptu "Hey, did you know today is a holiday?" speech at 10 am. Because let's face it, we never really know how that's going to turn out. Now do we?

Boy: What holiday is it?

Me: Hallowwwww(realizes this might not be the best time to bring it up)eeeeeennnnn....

Boy: That is trick-or-treating time.

Me: Yes.

Boy: That is for dark.

Me: Well, yes. We don't go trick-or-treating until dark, but it's Halloween aaaaa(ohhh noooo)lllllll day.

Boy: Then I will have a new toy. (Not what I expected. But okay.)

Me: Why would you get a new toy?
Boy: Because that is a holiday.

Good point, kid.

New Nerf gun it is.

Cue mentally walking on eggshells in anticipation of potential sudden launch to red alert.

Which totes wasn't necessary. ( I got the word 'totes' from a friend. And she's getting her PhD. So I figured I'm gonna use it, too.)

Grandpa played Nerf war with him. 

He ran in circles chatting to no one about Halloween.  

He asked about candy. 

He ran in circles.
He talked about his costume.
He ran in circles.
He changed his mind about his costume
He asked about candy while running in circles.

He hid under the table.
He came out to see what I was doing.

Still at green alert!

And then I got brave.

If ''brave'' can alternately be defined as ''Oh SNAP it's a holiday and we should be doing HOLIDAY things not just going to 3 houses to get candy."

So I went into some kind of adrenaline-induced Pinterest-Crazed-Holiday-Mom mode.

It WAS Halloween. I might have been temporarily possessed. But if you're gonna be possessed it might as well be by Martha-freaking-Stewart.

So we made caramel apples.

Okay more Semi-Homemade than Martha. 

Here's our recipe:

Step 1: Send Boy out to collect sticks for caramel apples. 

Step 2: BECAUSE I SAW IT ON PINTEREST, OKAYYYYYY!  Sheesh.

Step 3: Have boy unwrap each caramel. Kraft bagged kind. Seriously. 

Step 4: Every time Boy tries to walk away 

or forgets what he's doing 

or gets bored 

or frustrated 

stick an unwrapped caramel in his mouth and back away. 
Step 5: Put pan on stove.
Step 6: Have boy put caramels in pan. 
No. 
All of them. 
Yes, the ones that fell on the floor, too. 
It's candy. Not eggs. 
PUT THEM IN THE PAN! 

Step 7: Reduce water on Kraft bag recipe before you put it in the pan in order to accommodate loss of 1/4 caramels to eating and another 2 to the trash because they fell on the floor and... he's stubborn.
And hygienic. 
Except about poop.
And boogers.
Step 8: Turn on heat to medium-low whateverthatisjustguessokay. 

Step 9: Do NOT let Boy catch fire.   
See pic.

Boy NOT on fire.

                                

Step 10: Melt green plastic spatula in caramel.

Step 11: Trade out spatulas and proceed as normal. 

Step 12: Let Boy dip his own apple. 

Step 13: Tell Boy 1.290 times he can't eat it until after T-O-Ting while allowing the caramel to cool.   
See pic.

Boy NOT eating caramel apples.

Step 14: Run pre-meltdown Boy upstairs to rush into costume as pure distraction from the caramel apple he can't eat yet even though it is still light outside and how are we going to make it until dark?  

Step 15: Send Boy on wild goose chase for things we might/might not need to go T-O-T-ing because he doesn't know any different and now I have to waste time until dark. 

Step 16: Go T-O-Ting.  Yes, I am that lazy. I will use abrevs if I want. 

Step 17: Eat the caramel off the apples until your teeth are stuck together. 
Step 18: Make a mental note to do this every year.  
Because these are gorgeous.

And yummy.

See pic.

YUMMY.

Ever notice how these fancy online bakers like Martha and Ree and Recipes.com give you tips AFTER the recipe so you miss them and then screw everything up? Yeah, I have some of those too.

NOTE: Boy remained on Orange Alert for the duration of the evening after I lost my head and attempted to go all Holiday on him. 

NOTE 2: Butter whatever you sit the caramel apples on. Trust me.

NOTE 3: Wash the apples. I forgot to tell you to wash the apples.

NOTE 4: And dry the apples. Like... Before you dip them in the caramel. K.

WARNING! Proceed with caution. Meltdown Alert levels may vary. Not responsible for Red Alerts, triggers, fits, burns or open/bite/claw wounds resulting from over-stimulation assaults, sugar highs or general spectrumness. May be attempted with NT children with unknown results. May be attempted with Girls with unknown results.

So... Unfortunately today wasn't quite as pleasant as yesterday. We woke to an unhappy Boy. Unhappy with a depth of heartbreak that can only be found in a child who has awoken to a day that is less special than the day before. Holiday detox.

But hey, I got a picture of him making caramel apples. And a pic of him NOT eating said apples. And a pic of .... said... apples.

So...  I'm good.

 <3

I just wanted to go outside.

Fall is coming. Okay, technically it's already here. But colder days are coming. I wanted to go outside on this unseasonably warm day. Which meant HE didn't.

I was determined.

And eventually I won.

For all of about ten minutes, maybe. But I like to celebrate all of life's victories. Even the ten minute ones.

What didn't work:

"I want to go outside."

"Come on, let's go outside."

"Outside time!"

"It's a beautiful day. We are going outside."

"Hurry, let's go see the mail truck."

"We need to go outside and get some vitamin d."

"I'll take your toys outside now."

"You haven't felt well, let's sit outside in the fresh air."

What did work:

"Let's go outside and recharge our tummies in the sun like Wall-E."

Watching "the sun paint the grass."

Storytime

Our local library has a "sensory storytime" for children on the spectrum or with other special needs. We went once last year but at the time we were still struggling with the whole 'get in/get out of the car' process. So we hadn't been back. We've pretty much mastered that now so I signed us up again.

Well... Sensory storytime was a bust.

The room was double booked so storytime was out in the kids area. And there were a LOT of kiddos there. 

Okay like ten, but that's 10x more than he can usually handle. And then add in the parents. And it was a different librarian. And there were drawers of shared Thomas and lego toys. Yeah.

He really did okay though until the bubbles. Bubble. MACHINE. That was just all kinds of exciting. So there he was, flapping his hands and doing what we call his "scarecrow dance." Super scrumptiously happy.

Then ear hitting/face slapping panic when it was over.

We didn't even get to check out the book he'd picked out. He was done.

Oh well.

We tried.

#AutismAwareness

#WhenSimpleThingsAreHard

<3

Pic of me carrying my 5 year old one block back to our car. Post-storytime.Yeah.