The New Year

I know you guys may have been wondering whether or not I had died, seeing as how I can't seem to get my act together to put down a few sentences on my blog lately.  I have all sorts of reasons as to why my writing stream seems to have dried up to a trickle, but I'm not going to bore you with it, or try to justify anything.  Let's just suffice to say that I resolve to do better in the New Year, and I hope that my kids and their schedules will agree with that resolution.  ;)

The New Year's party settings and guests, Birdie (L), Hubby, and Princess (R)

Me in my styling 2013
party glasses decorated by Birdie

The Kitty Ball

On New Year's Day, just before noon, Princess surprised our family with a New Year's party.  The party was a spur of the moment event, but P had put some time (20 minutes, at least!) and effort into putting together her shindig.   She made refreshments "from scratch", which consisted of Toaster Strudels and Capri Sun juice pouches.  Her party also had "formal" table settings (which means fancy stacked dishes and cups, and folded napkins), name cards, and party favors, which P commissioned Birdie to make.  To make the party complete, Princess made a New Year's Resolution game called "Pass the Kitty Ball", where we passed around a stuffed kitty toy and confessed our resolutions to the family.  When Princess was holding the Kitty Ball, do you know what that child resolved to do in 2013?!  Very solemnly she vowed,
"I will try to improve my kindness to others."

*cue sound of screeching brakes here*  Whoa!  What kid makes that their New Year's resolution?!!!  We-ellllll... If you knew the whole story...

The Newtown Tragedy and Asperger's Syndrome

The tragic shooting that occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School last Friday is just unfathomable.  I get a lump in my throat and my eyes burn with tears just thinking about it.  How are those folks in Newtown, Connecticut even breathing today?

The Newtown Fire Dept flag at half mast, courtesy of BusinessInsider.com

How will I breathe when I go back to work?  This week, when I walk into the elementary school at which I work, will it look different to me?  Will I be able to look at the faces of the children I see and greet and hug every day, and be able to hold myself together?  Will I be able to reassure these children that they are safe-- and really mean it?  Will I break down when I'm unable to stop the thoughts that this shooting could have happened at my school?  To my kids?

I'm sure I'll do whatever needs to be done, just as my co-workers will.  But no matter what happens, being at work won't feel safe again for a long, long time.

So many things about this tragedy are beyond comprehension.  No one, except for the shooter, can ever really know what would lead a person down a path that would end in massacring children.  Doctors, neighbors, teachers, school counselors, and news anchors can spend countless hours speculating about the mental state of Adam Lanza, but only Adam could have told you why he did what he did.  I have listened to many of the details given about this young man whom, by all accounts, no one really knew, yet about whom everyone seems to have plenty to say.  Adam Lanza was obviously troubled-- any stranger could discern that from the events on Friday, December 14th-- but that is really all we will ever know for sure.

What troubles me about all the press this young man is receiving, however, is that many in the media are trying to link Adam's murderous rampage to his Asperger's syndrome diagnosis.  Please, please, PLEASE-- could the media just once do their research before treading into waters they don't understand...  While I, and parents like me, are out trying to spread autism awareness, the media continues to muddy the waters of understanding with ill-guided comments and suggestions about the relationship between autism and violence.

How Should a Teacher Break the News that Your Kid is Weird?

Lunch in the Teachers' Lounge is never dull.  Every day at noon, several of my co-workers and I break bread together and talk about whatever is on our minds.  We talk about our kids, our families, our extracurricular activities, and any of the hundreds of other things friends might discuss over lunch.  As you might have guessed, however, our number one topic of choice is our students.  And why wouldn't it be, right?!  We are all (I assume) working at the elementary school because we love kids, and we want to help our students succeed.  It is obvious that the teachers I work with are a very compassionate bunch, and I am often floored by the level of concern and involvement they have with their students.  Frequently, we will spend lunch talking about how to reach a particular student's needs, or discuss strategies to use in class.  Recently, discussions have veered more toward Parent/Teacher conferences, since we have just completed the first grading period.  Consequently, I have never seen my co-workers look more stressed!

I never realized-- or took the time to think about-- the level of anxiety that a teacher experiences during a Parent/Teacher conference!  One would just assume, because the teacher is the one at the meeting with the grades and the behavior reports and the information, that the teacher would feel confident going into a conference.  Wrong!  Teachers get nervous, too, y'all.  It's not usually the discussion of grades that make teachers shake in their conference shoes, but rather the topic of behavior.  And not so much bad behavior as "weird" behavior-- as in Crazy Train-style weird behavior-- that makes teachers squeamish at conference time.  I have discovered during my daily lunches in the Teachers' Lounge this fall that teachers are often afraid of having the Your-Kid-Is-Acting-Weird Conversation!  The teachers worry about what to say, how to say it, and when to bring "it" up.  They worry that they will say too much or too little.  They worry that the parents will get mad, or get offended, or get up and leave!  Who knew?!

*image courtesy of NYC Educator

Happy Campers, the Next Chapter

Greenbrier Lake

Last Friday after school, the Crazy Train rolled into Maryland's Greenbrier State Park for our second pop-up camper adventure.  We figured, what better way to spend a three-day weekend than in the woods?!  Although it was a somewhat whinier trip than our first, it seems that fun was had by all.  Even the cooler temperatures and drizzly Sunday couldn't spoil the fun for my ladies.

Don't Be an Ass

We are all asses.  There-- I said it.  You.  Me.  Your mom and dad.  The President.  Mother Teresa.  Your priest.  Your mail carrier.  Your favorite elementary school teacher.  You name it-- no matter who you come up with, they are all asses, too.  Now why in the world am I calling you and everyone you know an ass?  Well, you've heard the old adage "don't judge a book by its cover", haven't you?  It's an adage for a reason:  Everyone, and I mean everyone, is guilty of looking at another human being and making assumptions about them based on what they see.  And you know what happens when you assume...

Affection- A Sensory Fairy Tale

Image from stockfresh

Not too long ago, in the kingdom of Autism, lived Princess Crazy, of the Crazy Train Crazies, and Birdie, her Not-A-Princess twin.  While ruling the land of Second Grade in Kingdom Autism, the lovely Princess Crazy was quite the stingy girl.  Where most all the other children in her kingdom were willing to hug and kiss and say hello, Princess Crazy would go out of her way to avoid activities such as these, deeming them an "invasion of her personal space".  *gasp*  Right up to the end of her reign in Second Grade, the princess would not bestow her love and affection on the grown-ups in her kingdom, with the exception of an elite few.  (Quite frankly, it seemed that most of the grown-ups that did receive Princess Crazy's hugs and kisses were grown ups upon which she depended for food, shelter, transportation, and good grades... but I digress.)

Birdie and "The Talk"

Safety Birdie-- the kid that keeps on amazing me!

Last night, just before bed, Birdie sprung a question on me that I wasn't expecting to hear for quite some time.  I don't know why it surprised me.  Nothing should surprise me anymore, and it usually doesn't.  My girls have proven time and time again that, if nothing else, they are precocious.  I guess my surprise was just a result of not feeling confident that I would handle the topic with the right finesse.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... let me set the stage for you a little.  For the last couple of weeks, Birdie has been bouncing around the idea of starting her own blog.  So cool, right?!  One of my fellow blogger friends, Perry Morgan, suggested several months ago that Birdie might enjoy blogging, but I was hesitant to mention it to her.  Then out of the blue, Birdie asked if I would help her make a blog!  (Sorry, Perry-- you were so right, dude!)  She wants to blog about her fantasy world she calls "The Dimension" and all of the magical creatures that live there. She plans to provide illustrations, as well as an "English to Dimension language dictionary".  I think it sounds like a fabulous creative outlet for her.  She also very politely pointed out that I could list her blog on my blogroll "so that other people could find her on the internet and enjoy her imagination."  Ha-- I love that kid!  I assured her that if she made a blog, she would be at the top of my list.  :)

So, back to the question that left me feeling unprepared...

To Infinity and Beyond!

How do we manage to have such dorky conversations at the dinner table?!

Tonight, we were talking about how Brussel sprouts, cabbage and broccoli are all cruciferous vegetables (don't laugh yet-- it gets dorkier), even though they seem so different.  What makes them cruciferous, Princess wondered.  I explained that they are all related because the flowers on the plants have four petals that resemble a cross, thus "cruciferous", which is Latin for cross-like.  Princess didn't like this explanation.  "A flower shouldn't make them RELATED.  Broccoli rocks, but cabbage and Brussel sprouts suck!  I mean it!  That's just dumb."

He does look dumb...

"You want to talk about dumb", said Birdie, "then let's discuss Buzz Lightyear for a minute.  (So she was the one that left the Toy Story DVD lying in the floor earlier... hmmm.)  That idiot likes to use the phrase 'to infinity and beyond!'  Like there is anything beyond infinity!  It's infinity because we don't know where it ends!  Duh."


(I warned you it would get dorkier.  Doesn't everyone talk about cruciferous vegetables and infinity with their little ones?  I say make each moment a dorky teachable moment.)


This was not the first time the subject of infinity has come up at the dinner table.  About three weeks ago, the whole family had discussed the idea of infinity to some extent over dinner.  The whole conversation made my brain hurt, and I was glad when it was over.  I should have known it wasn't over for good.  Things have a way of getting repeated again and again around here.  I'd say it's like deja vu, but it isn't as baffling as that.  My kids just cannot let things go.  Ever.  Even when you think they finally have.  It takes very little to revive a long-forgotten topic-- like seeing the Toy Story DVD, for example.  That was all it took to set my expert conversational-track-jumper into action, making the leap from cabbage to infinity in a single bound.  

Hersheypark and Its Many Signs

The obligatory "we're here" photo.

After our troublesome false start last Friday, we finally made it all the way to Hershey, PA around 9:00 p.m.  Needless to say, we put Princess and Birdie straight to bed, with us to follow soon after.  The next morning, my ladies were up and at 'em only a little later than usual (a whoppin' 20 minutes of sleeping in for missing their bedtime by 2 full hours).  We were soon in the hotel's breakfast area, trying to decide which of the assorted pastries, yogurt, cereal, and "cooked" breakfast foods would give us the most stamina at the amusement park that day.

Birdie and the Child Find Committee

I know you are expecting a conclusion to the story of the girls' birthday weekend, but you will have to wait until next time.

Today I did something I never imagined I would do.  Today I submitted a referral form to the school requesting that Birdie be the subject of a Child Find Committee.  It was easier and harder to do than I could have ever guessed it would be.  It was easy to do, because in my heart of hearts I know that despite her incredibly amazing brain for knowledge, Birdie could really use some help developing her "social brain".  What made this process so damn hard was that in some ways it feels like a bit of a loss, too.  So much for me having a pseudo-normal kid... not that was ever truly a possibility.  I mean really, look at me!

Princess & Birdie's Fantasy Life

Can you hear the Twilight Zone theme music emanating from this image?

There is a world that exists solely in the minds of my daughters.  No one else is invited to visit.  No one else, I believe, could truly understand this place.  It is the place where most all of Princess and Birdie's playtime is spent, and it is hard to get them to leave.  The world is called Story Show Land, and my girls are its supreme rulers.

A Teachable Moment at the Redbox

Not my photo, not an advertisement

As I rolled out of the school parking lot this afternoon to head for home, I began looking forward to a quiet evening alone (after the girls were in bed, of course).  Just me and my goofy mutt, curled up on the couch watching tv sounded like a good plan-- until I realized I had very little on the DVR to keep me entertained.  Easy enough to fix, I thought.  I turned left instead of right at the light and headed into the Giant shopping center.  The grocery has two Redbox machines inside-- surely I could find something there to keep me mentally disengaged for the evening.

I'm wondering now why I couldn't have just been happy with Netflix for a change?

Conversation Endured in the Mommy-Mobile

*Warning: The following content is hilarious and may result in giggle drops.

The following dialog exchange occurred as my girls and I were on our way to the vet this morning.  The girls were playing with their "puppies."  The conversation resulted in me having a minor coronary event followed by peels of inappropriate laughter.

Nachos & Kikamoa, the potential offenders

Re-definitions, Part Deux

Happy Weekend, y'all!  You may remember my post Creative Language and Re-definitions from about a month ago, where I gave my family's use of several everyday words.  (If not, you may want to refresh your memory-- some of those words get funnier the more you hear them!)  As I suspected, I managed to omit a few rather funny vocabulary gems.  Fortunately, my sister promptly called me after reading the post and told me the error of my ways.


Onomatopoeia: 


1.  chicken chicken doo doo (n.)- the sound a train makes.  This is my sister's all-time favorite re-definition.  Just say it out loud-- you'll see.  And you'll never make a train sound any other way, ever again.  Chicken-chicken doooooo dooooooo!  Chicken-chicken dooooo doooooooo!

2.  bleep (n.)- a substitute for swearing; also used in the form bleeping.  ex.  I hate having to pick up my bleeping toys.

Birdie is especially fond of this one, especially once I got it through her head that "dammit" is inappropriate.  Now when she gets frustrated or upset, she sounds like an episode of Maury Povich instead of a sailor... I'm not sure which is worse.

Can You Hear Me Now?

It is the bane of every mother's existence-- the question repeated a million times a day:  Did you hear me?  Sometimes it sounds more like "what did I just say to you?!" or "do I need to repeat myself?!"  No matter how you ask this question, it all boils down to the same idea-- IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME IN THIS GODFORSAKEN PLACE!!!!!

If you have to ask, the answer is probably NO.

I not list-en-ing to yooooou!

Warning Labels

This being Princess and Birdie's third year at the same elementary school and fourth year in this neighborhood, I had mistakenly assumed that by now everyone around here kind of had an idea about how my girls tick.  Recent events have reminded me that there is always someone in any given situation that just isn't quite prepared for my little darlings.  Some people handle the surprises my children have in store for them with great aplomb and roll with the punches like pros.  Some people, I feel, get what they deserve when dealing with my kids (and it's sad that I find this humorous).  Most people, however, could benefit from some sort of warning label or quick-start guide to ease the pain of the learning-my-children curve.

Creative Language and Re-definitions

Ever think about how you learned to communicate?  Ever tried to comprehend how you acquired all the nifty little words in your vocabulary that helps you speak your mind?  Most of the time we acquire an understanding of new words through the context of conversation and reading.  Sometimes, we learn the new words by turning to a trusted source, like a dictionary or a person we trust knows the answer.  Kids learn language the same way, but they make one fatal mistake that most adults don't.  They trust people-- especially their parents-- too much when it comes to acquiring language.

It has come to my attention that my family uses quite a few words and phrases differently than the rest of the world.  I knew before now that, at my house, we tend to use language in creative ways sometimes to get desired results.  The part that wasn't obvious to me was that not everybody seems to do this-- at least not to the extent that we do.  We have our own little vocabulary list of redefined words.  Some of these words were redefined by the girls accidentally or improperly inferred through context.  Others have been redefined by my husband and me in an effort to deceive our children, for whatever reason we felt made the lie justifiable.  Sometimes we just don't know how a word entered our vocabulary, but there it is.  Either way, it is sometimes necessary to have a glossary of these words handy when hanging with my peeps to truly understand all the nuances of conversation.  *If you are weak of heart or stomach, or find offense easily, please stop reading now-- potty humor ahead.   Consider yourself warned. :D