The Wonderwheel

I'm Not Here Anymore, Remember?

2008-04-02T21:54:00.003-05:00

Yoo hoo! Psst! Yes, you.

I'm over here now. Come on over and join the party!

Bye-Bye, Blogger

2008-04-01T12:39:00.003-05:00

Surveying the dining room during lunch, Lyle casually asked, "When are moving from this house, Mommy?" His tone let me know that he assumed moving day must be right around the corner.

Who can blame him? It must seem about time. After all, we've lived here a full year now, so why aren't we packing?

No one is only a therapist at the office, and so I made the boys a transitional photo album before we moved from San Francisco to Chicago. In it are photos of each apartment we lived in along with the addresses (they'll never have a problem finding their early homes), and there are pictures of all of our friends, family there, and each and every favorite place we loved. About halfway through, the focus shifts to Chicago, where I placed photos of the new rental house, the neighborhood, Baxter's school, and the local ice cream shop, in addition to photos of Matt's entire family. We all love this album - I found myself thumbing through it in the living room just this morning - and it was a huge help to the kids during the big transition. It got a lot of love, especially from almost-2-year old Lyle who had no other way of understanding why his world was suddenly upside down.

But those pages of all the places we lived? There are too many. It's kind of scary, how many times we moved with the boys over the past 7 years.

And so it's all about stability for me now. I want as little to change as possible. We considered switching Lyle to a different preschool for next year (one that would mean *not* having to pay for both preschool and a nanny) and in the end I just said "no" to more change. This is strange for me - I love change. I thrive on change. Bring it on!

But please. After the past 7 years? Let the big things just be as stable as possible for a while.

Despite my current resistance to change, I am making one concession - a virtual move. I am leaving Blogger, which has started giving my commenters a hard time and doesn't allow me to do all that I'd like to do with The Wonderwheel. I have secured my very own web site and am using WordPress for my blog.

So, please, come on over to my new-and-improved Wonderwheel home and join in all the fun on my new site. I'll supply the champagne and chocolate as long as you remember to add the new address to your RSS or bookmarks. (Just try to overlook the bare walls and all the boxes stacked in the corners - unpacking takes time.)

Materialistic Monday: Drama Mama's Secrets, Part One

2008-03-31T11:07:00.003-05:00

How lucky are you all today? The faaabulous Drama Mama is guest blogging here today to share her beauty secrets! Get your tabbing fingers ready - there's some good stuff here...enjoy!

Materialism is hard work, Wonderfriends, so I’m going to work fast and hard to get you in and out of here on this Monday morning.

The erudite and gregarious Jordan has asked me to guest on this auspicious day, mostly because she isn’t half has materialistic as I am, and partially, maybe, because she’s just tired, lazy, or both and just wants to pass the heavy lifting over to me. Never fear, mon amie, I am willing and able to transition you from the dregs of winter to the dawning of summer in just a few pithy paragraphs. Get your pens ready. And…Go!

First of all, as we move from Winter to Summer, you might notice that you are feeling… squishy, perhaps. Not heavy, but, er, well, not as toned and terrific as you’d like to be as those Land’s End Swimsuit catalogs appear fast and furious in your mailboxes. May I suggest a nice meal replacement that I’ve been doing that is filling and delicious ? (Well, let’s not go crazy here, how about pleasantly palatable?). Fiber 35 is available online, in your local health stores, and what I really like about it is that it does indeed fill one up and keeps things moving, shall we say? A few shakes throughout the day, with a Fiber Smart bar mid-day, and a salad with protein for dinner – an easy and painless way to shape up and clean out. Just in time for Land’s End season. Greet those waves with the semi-self-confidence that you deserve!

Now that your innards are singing, may I bring your attention to your skin? Yes, darling, it is lovely and wrinkle-free, but that long winter has left you –ahem- a little dull and not as baby-fine as you’d like. MAC Moisturelush line is just that – softening and hydrating and really, truly non-greasy. Truly. I would not lie to you. I do the Cremewash with my Clarisonic in the shower (oh, the ecstasy), then the Studio Moisture Fix while I dress and do my hair. By the time I get to my make-up, my face is ready to go. Friends, before I turned 40, I detested the feel of moisturizers. As it became a necessity, I searched vainly for an item that would hydrate me and not make me look like a fry cook in June. The real piece de resistance is the Moisturelush Crème at night – it goes on like a cloud, and is like a mini-facial; once you emerge from your morning shower, the effects of your nightly attempts are butter-smooth and have plumped up even the tiniest of lines – even around the mouth! Couple all of this with your Strivectin, and you are positively entering Dorian Gray territory.

Okay. Pens down. That's enough for today. Process. Rinse. Repeat. We'll see you next week at this time for the rest of Materialistic Monday Terrorist Takeover by Drama Mama. Please do your homework.

The Recyclery

2008-03-30T10:31:00.002-05:00

As long as we're talking about Mother Earth this weekend, I want to share a wonderful discovery we made yesterday.

Baxter and I were both in the market for new bicycles this spring, and so we went up to Evanston (a very short distance from our far north side neighborhood) to check out The Recyclery's Spring Sale. The Recyclery is a nonprofit used bicycle collective, meaning that they fix up donated bikes and give them to those who need them and occasionally sell them super cheap to the public.

To his utter delight, Baxter found this '80s Schwinn "Predator" (perfect for our Cheetah-obsessed boy) that is just his size. And when you only spend $15 on the bike, it's easier to promise a few add-ons, like a comfier seat and a kickstand.

As for me, I ended up with this silver aluminum frame Magna with all kinds of crazy shock absorbers. Between that and the hella cushy seat, all I could think about while I was riding it was the YouTube "Mom My Ride" video (which you really must see if you haven't). It's a Mom Ride all right, but for $65, bring it on.

Aside from the great deals on some kick-ass bikes, this was a fantastic opportunity to talk about the "reuse" part of what some refer to as the "Unitarian Holy Trinity": reduce, reuse, recycle. Baxter is feeling very proud of his 20-year old secondhand bike. I hope he remembers why when his friends show off brand new shiny models, but I don't think I have anything to worry about.

Earth Hour

2008-03-29T22:09:00.005-05:00

We are observing Earth Hour tonight, but adjusted it a bit. We started early - at 6:30 - as starting at 8pm would have had no impact whatsoever on the slumbering darlings we wish to teach about being stewards of the earth.

With no computers to lure an adult away, we spent half an hour together in the sun room, being goofy and chatting happily, engaged in such activities as Watching Lyle Put on a Ballet/Tap Dance Show and – always a crowd pleaser - Creating Harry Potter Characters and Artifacts Out of Silly Putty with Baxter. For the next half hour we took to our respective couches and each of us read to one of the kids.

I was struck by the way that the natural darkening of the night sky through our windows brought on a gradual calm in us all. No sudden, “Okay, it’s bedtime!” call tonight. When it was too dark to read, no one questioned that it was time to head off to sleep. We lit a big candle by which the boys brushed their teeth, and off they went. A very relaxing evening.

We have kept the lights and electronics off well into the official 8-9 pm time period. Feeling a little guilty about going to a fully lit establishment at 8:30, I left the house in search of the Starbucks down the block due to the fact that I am far too behind on work to even think of doing anything else, and Matt’s having some friends over tonight to watch a movie and drink White Russians. And whatever else a bunch of hip dads do. (I’m picturing some of them walking in not knowing about Earth Hour and feeling a bit awkward about the romantic, candlelit atmosphere Matt has prepared for them.)

But do you know what I love about my neighborhood? Even the Starbucks employees are supporting Earth Hour. I’m guessing that there are certain corporate non-negotiables around here, like the background music that is probably required by the higher-ups to set that Saturday night coffee shop vibe. But it’s almost pitch-dark in here, with precious few under-cabinet lights on – just enough for them to make drinks by.

So here I sit in the near dark with my laptop running on battery power, looking out at busy Sheridan Road with so very few windows lit in the big apartment buildings, and I think, we really can do this.

We can, can’t we? If we made this effort more often? On a regular basis? Nightly, even? Each of us. It’s not that hard.

I mean, really: if Starbucks can turn down the lights and still bring in a full house, can't we all do more?

Commenting Problems?

2008-03-28T12:39:00.005-05:00

Hello, Wonderfriends!

It has come to my attention that some of you are having trouble commenting here on The Wonderwheel. First Shannon said she couldn't leave a comment this morning, and now Good Fountain tells me it happens to her all the time!

Ay, Dios Mio!

I am considering leaving Blogger for other reasons (my greedy eyes see features elsewhere that would please me) but this could really clinch the deal.

Has anyone else had trouble commenting here? I guess I won't ask you to tell me in a comment (because I'm not that stupid), but if you'd take a moment to email me at jordan.s.sadler@gmail.com and let me know, I would appreciate it.

My apologies for the bizarre technical difficulties.

Autism: The Musical - Take 2

2008-03-27T22:23:00.007-05:00

If you've ever met me, if you have visited this blog before, you already know that I want you to see Autism: The Musical for so many reasons.

But did you know that, as of this week, it's right here on the HBO web site - and free? It's 93 minutes of your life that are well spent.

Matt and I watched the documentary together tonight and I was so happy to be able to share it with him. We went through a lot of Kleenex. Both of us. A lot.

Some of my favorite writers out there who have children on the autism spectrum have written eloquently about the film here and here and here.

I can't speak about it from the parent's perspective, but I can say a few things about it as a communication specialist.

First of all, I had forgotten entirely that Elaine Hall (the director of The Miracle Project) referred to Dr. Stanley Greenspan and all that she learned from him that led to the amazing Floortime work she did with her son Neal. It makes perfect sense, given the nature of the program she put together for the kids, how she ran it, and what her agenda was (i.e., for the kids to have a great time and feel good about themselves). The way those kids felt when they were at The Miracle Project (throughout the entire 6 month process, not simply the performance) - good about themselves, loved, able to make friends, safe to explore some of the scariest and saddest parts of their lives - is how kids feel when they walk into our clinic here in Chicago and also what I saw unfolding every single day when I worked at Oak Hill School in the Bay Area. For kids like these, there is nothing better than having a place like this available to them and yet it seems to be so rare. I watch how Elaine and her staff interact with the kids and find it completely familiar and at the same time so uplifting to observe as an audience member.

I realized in this second viewing how much the film influenced me the first time. As a therapist, having such clear windows into the children's home lives was a gift. To hear parents talk openly about the strain autism has put on their marriages, to see what some of the interactions are like when there is not a therapist in the mix, and to be reminded of the nonexistent safety net our society holds out around families with these particular challenges - all of this has been priceless for me. I think that reading blogs has made a difference for me as well, but since watching Autism: The Musical the first time, I know I have been asking different questions and focusing a lot more on the emotional health of the entire family. We talk about support systems, who is getting how much respite and when, and how the sibling relationships are going. I do that now before we even deal with the communication needs, because a family in emotional crisis is going to have a hard time taking on the extra work required to learn new communication strategies, and in the end, if we don't have strong mental health, what do we have? I remember now how strongly I felt that message last fall when I saw this film.

The fact that there is always more to learn can be both overwhelming and inspirational. Yesterday I worked a 13.5 hour day. I didn't see my kids all day and got home after 10:30 pm. I'm tired. I feel like I'm fighting the illnesses that have plagued this household for the past few weeks and wonder which day will be the one when my body gives in. Some nights, to be honest, I look at the next day's schedule and think, "That would be a good one for the flu to hit - how am I going to do all that?" This work is hard. There are moments and hours so challenging that no one but my colleagues or a child's parent could understand. If I didn't have my days off at home to recharge with my kids I couldn't sustain it right now. It's incredibly rewarding and satisfying and I'd rather be doing nothing else in the world, but it's hard.

I need to watch this movie periodically. I need to sit back and watch how those children changed; how they lit up when someone understood them and when they expressed something new and wonderful. I need to see the changes in their parents and catch those moments of joy on their faces, and have a good cry with them all from afar. Because I know them all - not as individuals but as composites: a little of him, a little of her, and - voila! - there's someone I know and love. Observing it without being a part of it helps.

So yes, the fact that there is always more to learn, always more to do, can be both overwhelming and inspirational. Tonight it's leaning towards inspirational for me.

Welcome to High School

2008-03-27T09:14:00.003-05:00

I had to go to a north side high school yesterday to sign the boys up for summer swimming classes.

(Because they are learning to swim this summer, dammit.)

It was some distance from our house and I hadn't seen it before, but it was a large, lovely campus. Lots of glass windows, newer construction. The guidance office, where registration took place, was a big, well-appointed room with computers for college searches and banners from top colleges all over the country on the walls. In fact, the school is called Northside College Prep High School.

But the fact remains that it is a public high school in one of America's largest cities. And so perhaps I should not have been startled to see this sign posted on either side of the front doors.

It's reality in the city, but hard to imagine my kids as gangly teenagers walking past those signs every day after passing the Chicago Police cruiser that's stationed out front. (Is it always there?)

I'm a strong proponent of public schools. Matt and I put in the effort required to find good ones for our kids in San Francisco and Chicago and have been happy enough with the results. The good far outweighs the not-so-good. But I've always said that I would consider a private school for high school, if need be.

Because if it meant my kids could walk into a school where there were no reminders to check your guns and knives at the door, it might be worth it to me.

Professional Motherhood

2008-03-25T13:04:00.010-05:00

Over at BabyCenter's MOMformation blog today there is a post by Betsy Shaw, one of its fine contributors. It was about a current poll on BabyCenter that asks, "Do you sometimes worry that you are not cut out to be a mom?" which has resulted in 77% of voters so far admitting that they worry about this. I was speedily reading along, when I suddenly came to this paragraph, which brought me to a halt:

"And sometimes I catch myself thinking 'this isn’t really how I imagined my life as a mother would be.' Then I hear, “Well how could it be? It’s not as if you spent a lifetime preparing yourself for the job.” How true. Unlike most professions, that require a regimented course of study, aided by experts in the field, before you are allowed to call yourself a “professional,” motherhood just sort of happens and y0u learn by design."

This is interesting to me. I'm sure it is the rare mom who doesn't wonder sometimes (or daily!) if she's up for the demands of parenting. (And I have no doubt that dads have the same concerns.)

But I stopped and thought for a long while about the concept of motherhood as a "profession" for which we might be unprepared. I mean, I understand what this means, which is that there's no parenting manual and we're all out there running around incredibly busy with the tasks associated with it, and it very often does feel like something one might refer to as a "profession".

But I still wonder how it is that some of us (namely, well-educated women in the middle-class and beyond, I'm guessing) have come to think of motherhood as a profession, something that extends far beyond the more basic premise of motherhood as the experience of being a female adult in a family who is raising children, something that's been integrated into women's lives since the beginning of time, and all over the world.

When did we start to look at it that way? I doubt most women in our mothers' generation had this perspective and wished they had the proper training to "get it right", worrying that one of the other play group moms was cut out for it better. And I don't think I'm reading too much into a little online poll, because the 77% results sounds about right, if not low, when compared to what I see and hear around me.

Matt summed this up recently. He asked with some frustration, "When did raising kids become such a Herculean task in our culture?"

Because - is it, really? For parents whose kids don't require unusual amounts of medical or therapeutic intervention, does it have to be such a task, one that many of us half-jokingly wish we'd gotten professional training for, beyond being surrounded by other mothers our entire lives? Or have our cultural expectations shifted in such a way that we have to give so much of ourselves to raise these children of ours that we've got nothing left for anything else at the end of the day?

It seems to me that there are many possible answers to this question. One might be that those of us who were raised in the '70s and '80s grew up hearing that we could "have it all", that the sky was the limit for women. Just do it! Many of us went to college and even went on to receive higher degrees, always striving towards a "professional" life. Whether we left our professional lives to raise children or not, perhaps we've brought that mindset to parenting - a need to excel, to keep our noses to the grindstone, and to prove our worth to others as has been expected of us all along the way.

The parenting pendulum has also swung back in favor of a more child-centered focus within our culture. More of us have a family bed, reject sleep "training", breastfeed our babies, and spend our days playing with them. We are told that the early years are highly critical for development and we pour whatever resources we've got (time, money, attention) into those years. One result of this is that we are with our kids a whole lot and they come to expect this of us, and there is no time or energy for much else.

It also occurs to me that perhaps there's been some backlash for mothers in the fight to gain recognition for the fact that raising children is hard work. Work without pay or benefits, for sure, unless you count the intangible benefits of time spent with young children, which society at large doesn't pay much attention to. I wonder if, in the fight to be seen as people who do work hard all day long and want to be recognized by society for it, we have also raised the bar on our own expectations of ourselves and each other to an unreasonably high level.

I'll be interested to hear what others think about this topic. Whatever the reasons for it, it's concerning to me that so many moms worry that we aren't "cut out" to be moms, that maybe we haven't got what it takes to do the job "right". Wouldn't it be a relief if more of us could enjoy the early years with our kids, worry less about what we're doing wrong, and revel in the knowledge that this is one "job" that doesn't include a nagging boss? We'd have so much more energy left over for ourselves, our partners, our friends, and our communities.

Because the truth is, children all over the world have been raised quite well, even without professional moms. What do you think?

The Men are ON IT

2008-03-24T20:38:00.007-05:00

Those of you who have met my husband Matt in person already know that he is cool: far more techno-savvy than I am, well read, a great writer, and just generally hip in that "I can wear jeans and a black t-shirt every day and still be cooler than my cashmere-wearing wife" way. (And he'll wear a floral button-down shirt when we go out - how's that for cool?)

He's also been known to holler at the radio when he hears someone talking about autism the Wrong Way.

The man is edumacated.

It should not have surprised me, therefore, when he said tonight, "Hey, I subscribe to the Jumping Monkeys podcast, and Susan Etlinger was on this week!"

Damn! He was all over it. What's cool, happening, hip, and now. I mean, I knew about this exciting bit of Internet news because I'd seen it on Susan's blog at dark o'clock this morning, but I had never heard of Jumping Monkeys.

So, be hip like Matt and go listen to Susan talking about autism at Jumping Monkeys! You won't be sorry.

***

While I was writing the blurb above, my father called from California. Yet another man in my family who is all about what's hip and happening! He called to tell me that he'd heard two interesting NPR stories while commuting today - I am starting to feel like this is some kind of conspiracy of men-in-the-know. Here are the stories he recommended to me:

Confronting 'That Autism Thing' on Day to Day. A mother explains how different autism is than she had imagined, and tells about how a mall Santa recognized autism in her son when a neurologist didn't. Also highlighted is how her family's visit to the wonderful Dr. Rick Solomon, DIR faculty member who founded The Play Project in Michigan, gave them a great deal of hope for their child. Part II will be aired tomorrow.

"The Ten-Year Nap: Stay-at-Home Mama Drama" interview with author Meg Wolitzer on Fresh Air. This is an interesting piece. The novel is about four bright, well-educated women who leave their careers to stay home full-time with their children. It does not sound polemic, coming down in favor of staying home or working outside the home, but rather explores what happens in these women's lives when their children are all in school full-time. She suggests that the critical thing for women is to have "a sense of purpose" in life, whatever that may be, which is refreshing. Wolitzer makes some points that will simply need their very own blog posts later on.

Lots to read and listen to out there - go on!

(And PS: Don't forget that Autism: The Musical is on HBO Tuesday night!)

Materialistic Monday: Rush Hour

2008-03-24T08:02:00.004-05:00

Aaahhhh, Rush Hour, how do I love thee...

You are the perfect blend of creamy color that looks good no matter the season and with whatever I'm wearing. I keep you in my purse and also in my work bag for those moments when I need a dash of color: pronto!

Rush Hour, you are perfect on my lips and cheeks, making you the ultimate in quick fixes. I cheated a couple of times - yes, my dear, I know! - and learned that any old lipstick won't do the trick.

Roses are Red
Rush Hour is, too,
I'll wear you always
I swear - I'll be true.

The Hunt

2008-03-23T13:41:00.005-05:00

The melting snow drip drip dripped from every rooftop and awning so steadily that it was possible to believe it was raining when I was out on the sidewalks of this city early today. The shining sun and singing birds, the joggers and bike riders, reminded me that spring really is here, emerging again after the recent snowfall.

The boys rallied for the egg hunt this morning - you'd have never known how feverish Lyle was if not for the bright pink cheeks. And although Baxter ventured so far as to say, "I think there really might not be an Easter Bunny after all - I think you guys might put out all this candy," he carefully avoided eye contact as he said it so I knew he didn't really want me to agree. My answer ("All I know is that I never touched an egg or piece of candy last night and yet they're all over the house this morning") was the truth; Matt played Easter Bunny this year.

Here is a 5-minute video of the egg hunt highlights. It may not be interesting to anyone besides the grandparents, but if you'd like to hear me making a total dork of myself acting surprised about everything, you won't be disappointed! We have watched last year's video quite a few times, the kids and I, and we love it - especially Lyle's adorable 2-year old ways and both kids looking so much smaller. Makes me wonder what next year's vantage point will be.

Toto, We're Not in San Francisco Anymore...

2008-03-22T19:10:00.006-05:00

This is what we woke up to today. In, say, December I'd have said it was lovely. Today? Nah.

Although Baxter's feeling better, he's still coughing pretty horribly on a regular basis and is on a lot of asthma medications. None of us slept well last night, thanks to that cough. This afternoon, Lyle spiked a fever of at least 102 (he refused to continue with the thermometer), which when added to his own cough, makes us pretty sure he's got the flu as well. We have officially canceled all Easter plans for the kids tomorrow, but I still have to go to church because we had been asked to speak to the congregation as part of the Stewardship Campaign (i.e., why we give money to the church). Also I'm leading Children's Worship tomorrow, so I have to be there. A little strange, going to church by myself on Easter Sunday, but I'll just strap on my ~~spring bonnet~~ snow pants and get over it.

On the bright side, our neighbors made this fantastic Easter Snowbunny in our front yard today - pretty cute, huh?

When we moved here, it was summertime. I found people to be almost ridiculously happy about the sunshine and everything related to the season. This year, I totally get it.

Have a great Easter, everyone!

It's Take Your Wonderfriends to Work Day!

2008-03-21T20:22:00.006-05:00

I am aware that I haven't talked about much of a professional nature here lately (unless you count the fact that I wear those cashmere sweaters to work), and I've wondered to myself why that is. I came to realize that my attention cycles through the major things in my life over time. When we moved here I was immediately aware of the need to get our family and home settled, but then once I started to set up my practice in Chicago I had to really throw myself into it with a lot of energy to get it up and running; I started with a full caseload the day I opened my doors, and that was very challenging. And so I think this past fall, when I took even more clients and there were far too many days that felt like the wheels might be falling off the bus - and then in the winter, when the kids were on sensory overload and Lyle was in dysregulation hell - I realized that it was time to shift the balance of my attention back to my family.

It's not as if I'm ever not present in one place or another, it has more to do with how I choose to tip the scale. Right now it's tipped in favor of home. And so, although I'm loving my work, working hard, seeing great progress in the kids, and continuing to do those fabulous Date Nights at the clinic, my thoughts (and, therefore, blog posts) are more firmly planted at home. I have no doubt that on some level my clients and colleagues feel the difference. I don't return calls or emails as fast. My notes don't always get sent around exactly on time. I forget things once in a while. Everything is getting done and done well enough, just not with the same level of precision.

However, exciting things are happening at work that I would like to share with you, and I'll start with one of them today. You may remember that I've participated in two SCERTS Model trainings this year and that I am a huge fan of the program for kids on the autism spectrum. It fills an enormous void in that it's designed to train school districts to use the SCERTS curriculum, which a) is developmentally appropriate, b) emphasizes social communication and emotional regulation as well as laying out specific strategies that parents, teachers, and therapists need to work on to support the child, c) is very family-centered, and d) encompasses the current best practices for children with ASD as described by the National Research Council. SCERTS is taking off around the U.S. as well as abroad; Great Britain in particular has been extremely open to adopting the curriculum. It is an interesting side note that ABA therapy, so popular here in the States, is far less common in England; this has probably led to a greater openness across the board for a solid developmental program since this tends to be their philosophical bent to begin with.

Given our strong belief in the SCERTS Model, my wonderful, talented colleague (who is also a certified RDI consultant and in the process of DIR certification) and I have created our own SCERTS-based therapeutic group program for the coming school year. We are going to work with 6 children, preschool aged, who are non-verbal or have emerging verbal language skills. We hand-picked the children from our current caseloads and all of those families have accepted. (In fact, we have turned away quite a few other families who have already heard about our program from parents and other therapists. While this is a hard thing for us to do, the quality of the program will drop significantly if we take more children than our staff and space allows.)

The program, called L.E.E.P. Into Communication, will run five mornings a week for 3 hours per day. My colleague will be there all five days and I will work three days as I do now. We will also have two paid assistants (who already work at the clinic) and 2-3 interns (mine will be an SLP grad student from Northwestern). This will give us as close to a 1:1 ratio every day as we can get. The kids will have SCERTS assessments completed by the time we start their group in the fall and each will have very detailed, highly individualized therapeutic goals that will be chosen in conjunction with their parents and based on the assessments (which will be naturalistic observations, not formal testing). We are asking parents to commit to spending a morning with us at least once every 6 weeks and we will hold meetings with parents as often. We will contract with a DIR faculty member (clinical psychologist) and an excellent OT to come in and consult with us about our program on an on-going basis throughout the year, and we will offer movement classes with a children's theater specialist each week. Whew!

It is really exciting to give this group of children an opportunity to have such a fun, appropriate, individualized program that also allows them the chance to begin to form bonds and socialize with peers. This particular group does not generally have the chance to do so in other settings and it's such an important part of their development.

Because I know that many of you are going to ask, I will explain how this will be set up financially. We are independent practitioners, creating our dream program. We have cut back on our typical rates in order to bring the tuition down, but it is still very costly due to all of our expenses, including the additional paid staff members and consultants. Our clients pay out of pocket and some of that is reimbursed by insurance; the hours when I will be there next year can be submitted to insurance by the families under speech therapy. By no means are all of our families extremely wealthy; many of them, like many of you out there, are simply doing what they know their children need no matter the cost and are under great financial strain. We have been very open with the families about wanting to brainstorm ways to cut the costs further, and there may be a fund-raiser to defray some of it, but the families have committed to attending either way.

With our local school district services in bad shape due to poor funding and inadequate training, and the deplorable state of insurance coverage for families in our country, there are no easy answers. Our best bet as therapists is to create the best program we can imagine and make it work for the kids who need it. We are thrilled that everyone has signed on so quickly and are looking forward to the adventures that await us next year. I'll keep you posted.

Musings on a Day at Home

2008-03-20T18:58:00.009-05:00

The boys and I stayed home together today, giving Baxter another day of rest. The kiddos stayed in their pj's all day, even when we walked the half block to 7-11 to pick up some eggs for the sugar "flu-kies" we made this afternoon. I am only dressed because I went to the gym early this morning, which was a bit rough after a poor night's sleep. The kids've done very little this spring break week, aside from our Horton Hears a Who outing. In fact, I've done very little myself, or at least it feels that way, and I seem to be in a bit of a time warp. Life is strange when there's no car pool, no nursery school, to give the week its familiar shape. Perhaps it's simply this combination of factors, but I was feeling out of it this afternoon. Fatigued. And I seem to have a bit of a fever tonight. I have an unusually full day at work tomorrow (6 hour-long clients back-to-back without a break - yowza) and hope that I will wake up feeling well enough for it.

But before I turn in early, I have a few observations and photos from my day with the boys today:

1) When left to their own devices for more than 10 minutes, they were able to amuse themselves quite well. At one point, they played a game in which they took turns giving each other a good thwack on the rear end and then laughing uproariously (I tried to figure out how to phrase that to avoid showing up on the freakier Google searches). Next, they were happy to "spit" (more like raspberries) on a piece of construction paper, declare it "Disgusting!" and then pass it to the other brother. Which begs the question: what will the teenage years look like? And one of my favorite games is when Baxter randomly asks, "Lyle, what + what = what?" to which Lyle earnestly starts guessing numbers. "100, Baxter?" - "Nope." - "17, Baxter?" - "No way, Lyle!" I love crazy sibling shit like that.

2) A highlight of my first use of the new Kitchen Aid mixer (which was mentioned in comments earlier today - it was fantastic!) was when I had my back turned and Lyle switched it on - with the mixing blade pointing up, full of the wet ingredients for cookie dough. One word: EVERYWHERE.

3) These boys are being ludicrously kind to each other these days. I think there was only one argument all day, and that was about whether there was enough natural light in the playroom to warrant turning the lights on. Lyle insisted it would be "wasting electricity" and Baxter turned the lights on anyway. High-pitched three-year old screaming ensued. But, really, if there's going to be an argument, I'll take that one.

3) As I mentioned earlier today, it is supposed to snow tonight, tomorrow, oh, and Saturday and Sunday a bit, too. I had to stop, mid-cookie baking, when I saw the sun hitting the tulips like this on our dining room table. I'm going to keep it in my pocket tomorrow to remind me that spring was once here for a short while and will be back.

We Aren't Going to Talk About This

2008-03-20T06:16:00.002-05:00

I just saw snow in the forecast. Starting tonight, ending Saturday. Up to 8 inches.

I. am. not. amused.

Autism: The Musical - Coming to a TV Near You

2008-03-19T21:16:00.007-05:00

Okay, so I didn't quite get everything up here today that I'd hoped for, but it was a bizarre day for sure. Turns out poor Baxter has the actual flu virus; that would account for all that coughing the past few days and the fever that popped up yesterday afternoon. The doctor said we are extremely lucky he had a flu shot (yes, he did!) because the kids who didn't are barely able to sit up on the examining table. And this makes me glad that he and Lyle and I got flu shots. Matt? Not so much.

Wish us luck.

***

But listen, one of the most important things I wanted to say today must be said before I go to bed. (What? More important than her Word Cloud? How could it be?)

You may remember that back in October I wrote this post after going to a Chicago premiere viewing of the incredible documentary Autism: The Musical. A quote from that post somehow wound up on their website in the "reviews" section. And since I said this about it and it went onto their site, I am now automatically an expert on the movie. So listen to what I am telling you! (Bossy much?)

Autism: The Musical will premiere on HBO on Tuesday, March 25!

You need to see this movie. It does not matter whether your child has autism, or if you know a single child with autism. Because whatever you think you know about the highs and lows of life on the spectrum, you will find that a great deal - if not all - of what you "knew" has changed when it's over. Out of my customary 5, I give it 5 stars and 4.5 teardrops. Seriously - have the tissues close at hand. You'll thank me.

And here's the cool part. If, like me, you don't get cable, and if you are not lucky enough to have in-laws who have their TiVo scheduled to record it for you like I do, you still won't miss it! It will be streamed live on the web the next day for you.

For more detailed information about Autism: The Musical, I would encourage you to visit the website or head over to Susan Etlinger's recent post on BabyCenter.

And then go watch the movie, Wonderfriends.

Okay?

Wondercloud

2008-03-19T10:28:00.006-05:00

I have a lot to talk about today, and thanks to the bizarre day I'm having I might have time to say most of it over the course of the day. But I'm going to start with the fact that Libby introduced me to one of the best time-wasters ever this morning! It's called a "word cloud" and those of you at other blog sites often have them created from your tags. We aren't so lucky here at Blogger (as far as I can tell), but the Snapshirt site is perfectly happy to make one for us for free! One difference: it's not created from our tags, but rather from the most frequently used words on our blogs. Snapshirt gives us the option of ignoring certain words, which is handy but takes more than the initial 30 seconds required for its creation. A super-anal person could get really into this. Not that I'm saying that's me, or anything. Ahem. Anyway, this isn't useful in that readers can click on the words like you cool cats elsewhere, but I do like the way it looks. And so, I present to you my own personal Word Cloud:

Kinda cute, no? It seems that we can get them printed on t-shirts and mugs and such. I'm not sure that I'm that dedicated to it, but it will live in my sidebar for a while.

Spring Break Fun: Horton Hears a Who

2008-03-18T14:32:00.008-05:00

It's spring break for the smaller people around these here parts and, although I'm still working this week, today is one of my days off.

We had Big Plans to go to Pump It Up for a rambunctious indoor play date with Lyle's nursery school classmates, but when Baxter was still up coughing last night at 10 pm I realized it was time for Plan B. Now, Plan B had to be good, Wonderfriends*, because there was a lot of pre-asthmatic-coughing excitement built up around Pump It Up. At the same time, Plan B had to involve a certain amount of stillness so as not to aggravate the cough. Tricky combo, that. Matt bailed me out last night from Madison, where he's on his third business trip in as many weeks, by texting the word "movie?"

Score! Movie! And thank God I'd planned ahead, because I was able to present Plan B this morning when the boys climbed into bed with me, Baxter's lip already quivering due to his suspicion that I was going to say a big fat "no" to Pump It Up (I may have hinted at something along those lines when I came in with more medicine late last night). Tears were barely averted - it was only when the words "popcorn" and "candy" were uttered that Plan B became acceptable. Phew!

Our outing to see Horton Hears a Who at the Davis Theater in Lincoln Square was made all the more exciting by the fact that it was Lyle's first visit to a movie theater. It really helped that he was at the Dan Zanes show two days ago and so understood that the seats would tilt and it would get dark. He was a little disappointed, however, that there were no numbers on the movie theater seats - he will probably remember Seat 17 for the rest of his childhood. That was apparently worth the price of admission to the little one.

My expectations of this movie were fairly low, to be honest. As far as I'm concerned, Pixar has set the bar awfully high for kids' movies and I've become a bit of a snob about anything else. Which may be, in part, because I haven't seen anything else halfway decent for kids in a long time. I'm not going to say that Horton Hears a Who was fantastic, but it was perfectly enjoyable. There were some real laugh-out-loud funny moments for all three of us, and Baxter was frequently leaning halfway over the seat in front of him (which, thankfully, was vacant) out of pure excitement. I also heard him say, "Oh, MAN!" quite a few times. Further, I was pleasantly surprised with 3-year old Lyle's ability to sit through this 1.5 hour movie, although I'm not going to lie: the movie popcorn in a small Lyle-sized bag and occasional M&M's really helped. I was pretty sure that he wasn't taking in much more than the snacks and the thrill of the cup holders, but on our way out he was actually able to talk about the movie with us, so I guess he did.

And, you know? Even with the whole "A person's a person no matter how small" and the "we're just people living on a speck on a clover but we are interconnected with the larger universe" thing going on, I didn't cry much at all! So I'm thinking it wasn't that schmaltzy, either, because there was a lot of potential for weepiness in that story, let me tell you.

So, I'm going to go ahead and give it 3 stars and 1 teardrop (out of 5). Go out and enjoy it with your kids.

* Thank you, Cara, for coining the term Wonderfriends in my comments today. LOVE IT!

Dan Zanes = My Hero

2008-03-17T22:00:00.006-05:00

Yesterday afternoon found us at the Dan Zanes and Friends show at the Harris Theater here in Chicago. We'd been to a couple of their amazing shows in the past and this was equally wonderful.

Dan Zanes gives off a vibe that resonates with me so strongly: a positive, upbeat attitude about making the world a better place by making music and dancing together...sort of an "it's okay if you sing off-key as long as you're singing" philosophy. It fits right in with my "go ahead and buy the cupcakes" tendency. And his music is fantastic. I don't think of it as "children's music" but rather "family music" in the way that anything can be family music. It's music that I have been known to leave on in the car when the kids aren't with me. The shows are a big party - children and their grown-ups getting down in the aisles and up front in the mosh pit. I can't recommend it highly enough.

If dancing in the kitchen to The Wonderwheel with my kids gets me right here, imagine my reaction listening to it live, dancing with the boys and my niece, and Matt and his sister, and holding Lyle up right in front of the stage to see the instruments and super hip brightly-garbed band, a mere ten feet from Dan himself, crazy hair sticking out so far that I felt we could reach out and give him a big hug and then start jamming on his harmonica and ukulele.

It's moments like these that I look around and have to ask, "How is it possible that no one else here is crying?" It occurs to me that perhaps I'm simply crazy, but I prefer to think that I've learned to allow myself to feel what I feel and I don't bother trying to repress it. And perhaps I tend to be more emotional than average, who knows?

Or maybe I'm crazy. I would never rule that out.

Materialistic Monday: Cashmere

2008-03-17T21:34:00.003-05:00

Until January of this year, I had never owned anything cashmere, nor had I bought anything at Bloomingdale's. Within two days, I had two cashmere hoodies, and Matt liked them so much that he went out and bought one, too. At Bloomingdale's.

This is all thanks to Kristen. You may know her as a very thoughtful and kind blogger, a wonderful writer. Sure, that's all true, but I also know her as my personal shopper. Because once Kristen, Queen of Cashmere, found out that I didn't own a cashmere sweater, she made it her job to change that. You think I'm joking? Exaggerating? I am not.

I will let Kristen herself tell you about her cashmere ~~addiction~~ ~~obsession~~ adoration because I cannot do it justice. First there was the IM chat in which she extolled the virtues of cashmere: it's soft, adjusts to your body temperature, perfect for a climate like Chicago! Then there was the email with some ideas about where to shop for my cashmere sweater (high end department store sale racks, J. Crew, Lands End). Later, when it became clear that I was interested but wasn't taking the initiative to buy the sweater fast enough, there was the email with a series of actual links to four cashmere sweaters that Kristen had judged to be the best quality for the best price in stores at that moment.

If someone had told me that blogging would yield a personal shopper in New York willing to help me pick out a good cashmere sweater, I would have started a LOT sooner. Because as soon as I had a free Sunday afternoon, I went to Bloomingdale's, where they were having a fantastic sale on cashmere sweaters. I took about 10 black cardigans into the dressing room (because Kristen had also insisted I make my first one a black cardigan and at this point I was willing to do whatever she said) and found one I loved so very much that I also bought it in pink (and hey, looks like they still have it and it's still marked down!).

I cannot tell you how much I love these sweaters, but especially the black one (she was right, of course). I wear it almost every day. I also bought some cashmere-lined black leather driving gloves from Nordstrom after Christmas and I adore those as well. My hands have stayed so toasty, and they're incredibly soft. Aaaaahh...cashmere.

Right now my black hoodie is waiting to be washed, and I am really missing it. Speaking of washing it, I am still unsure about the best way to care for it. My understanding is that my choices are hand wash or dry clean. When I dry cleaned it once, it came back less soft, but Kristen tells me that hers have been fine and I need to try a new dry cleaner. I found this piece at Friday Style, all about caring for cashmere, that I wanted to share with you and in it Susan Wagner begs me to hand wash it. Anyone else want to weigh in on that?

So, yes. People who tell you that cashmere is wonderful are right. And so are friends who are willing to shop for me. Kristen, have I mentioned that I'm in the market for some spring slacks?

BlogHer '08 Facts

2008-03-14T22:00:00.005-05:00

Lori has brought to my attention the fact that BlogHer 'o8 is in San Francisco this summer. Allow me to share some reasons why I see that as incredibly convenient.

1. It's July 18-20. I will be attending a SCERTS training in Monterey, CA July 20-25.

2. Susan, Drama Mama, and Cindy are all locals, and as such they are automatically completely available.

3. Vicki, Kristen, and ghkcole could be bullied into taking the short flight up from L.A., I've decided.

4. All the rest of you wonderful bloggers near and far could be talked into taking the longer flight from the midwest, south, and east coast (and Australia?) because you know you deserve a break - and that we'd have a really super-groovy time.

Look, folks, BlogHer was in Chicago last summer and I really blew it. Missed everything but the parties. I need a chance to redeem myself. And here's the best part: if we all go, I promise to blog drunk again. ~~Drunkard's~~ Scout's honor.

Early Spring by the Lake

2008-03-14T20:40:00.003-05:00

The boys and I found our local park by Lake Michigan to be more mucky puddle than play area yesterday, so we headed over to the beach and reacquainted ourselves with its streams, rocks, and the chilly sand of the early season. We also found that the other children had come out of hibernation. I wanted to stay out until dark.

That's My Boy

2008-03-13T14:36:00.002-05:00

Taken from outside the car window at the gas station...my favorite face-making opportunity with the boys.

Perftic Enough

2008-03-13T13:30:00.006-05:00

Shortly after reading the letters on the peanut butter jar ("S-K-I-P-P-Y") and declaring, "That spells 'peanut butter'!!", Lyle made his own sandwich.

For the record, I was actually going to refrain from saying anything about spreading that huge glob of peanut butter around, but as soon as he saw me eyeing it with an amused expression, he shrieked defensively, "NO! It's perftic enough!"

And "perftic enough" is exactly what it was.

Only Child

2008-03-12T21:25:00.018-05:00

The large yellow padded envelope was delivered unceremoniously to the floor of my home office by a diminutive, cranky postal carrier wearing CARSTM pajamas.

"Here, Mommy, there's mail for you," he said, turning on his small heel and running back down the hall in search of more mischief.

I picked up the envelope, curious about the return address label, which bore the name of an unfamiliar contact at a prominent publisher. Unable to guess its contents, I finally opened the envelope. Inside, I found a brand new copy of a lovely book titled "Only Child: Writers on the Singular Joys and Solitary Sorrows of Growing Up Solo", edited by Deborah Siegel and Daphne Uviller.

In the past I've received a new book in this way when I've been asked in advance to review it, but that was not the case this time. I couldn't figure it out: I don't have an only child, I am not an only child. There did not seem to be a professional connection; no mention of autism or speech therapy on the book jacket. I must have stood staring at this book like a fool for quite some time, because Matt eventually took it out of my hands and I continued to get the boys ready for school.

"This might be a clue," he said, coming back to me a few minutes later, holding the book out. Matt had opened the mystery book to a random page and found himself looking at an essay written by a high school friend of mine, Ted Rose.

Previously on L.A. Law, I have alluded to the fact that I attended somewhat mediocre public schools with some fantastically witty and bright high achievers in Middletown, Connecticut (many were the children of professors at Wesleyan University) who are all dear to my heart. Ted Rose was no exception. Here's a recent bio for you; note the essays published in Wired, Slate, Salon, and The New York Times. He's also been an NPR All Things Considered correspondent. Seriously.

(As an aside, I have always been shocked to hear myself described as "ambitious" or "intelligent" because in my growing up experience, I was decidedly not, relatively speaking. It is only in the past couple of years that I've been able to see myself in relation to a more, perhaps, typical and diverse population, and have been relieved to find that I am actually a little bit brighter than the neighbor's schnauzer. But only a bit, mind you.)

Ted is the son of well-known writer and English professor Phyllis Rose, who was, when I knew her son as Teddy, living with Laurent De Brunhoff; the two are now married. Yes, it's true: Babar essentially lived at my friend's house. Anyway, Ted is in good company in this book, which also includes essays by the children of Alice Walker and Erica Jong.

I carried Only Child in my bag all morning and sat down to read Ted's essay "Air Only" as soon as I had a few minutes. It was poignant and beautiful. It's a rare gift to read something so well written that also provides unique insight into the life of someone you know.

Turns out, Ted did not send this book to me; the fact that his essay is in this anthology is mere coincidence. This does not surprise me, as we haven't been in touch. I suspect that, although I discontinued writing for Chicago Moms Blog many months ago, perhaps my name is still on some lists out there. I used to get a lot of review opportunities through them.

Whatever its source, the mysterious appearance of Only Child is a gift in many senses of the word. I'm enjoying reading the rest of the anthology, bit by bit, but the happy surprise of a window into the world of an old friend will be hard to beat.

Hope Springs Eternal

2008-03-11T22:43:00.001-05:00

This afternoon found the boys and me coming in our front gate after school at the same time as the 6-year old who lives up on the third floor - a boy who Baxter's really been missing this winter. They love to wrestle each other to the ground and play wild games of tag in the front yard.

It was around 50 degrees for the first time in months. As we got a rousing game of tag going (in which I, playing tag in my clogs, had to establish the new rule: "The next one of you who spanks me is automatically IT"), more and more neighbors appeared. In short order, all five kids in our building were out front, and a great neighbor from down the block walked by and came in with her 2-year old and a new baby I hadn't yet laid eyes on. (Because, you know, he was born in the winter, and here in Chicago neighbors go into serious hibernation in the winter, especially with a newborn. I do believe if I'd had one of my children in the middle of a Chicago winter I'd have totally lost it.)

It was a grand way to pass the time, reminiscent of long, sunny spring, summer and fall afternoons spent out there last year. Matt, who was working from home and heard the cacophony, paused to take this photo through the window. It's all of the moms hanging out on the front steps. That's me in the black sweater, warm enough to set aside my winter coat, with one of the neighbor kids lounging on my lap. The kids were all around us, poking at each other with sticks, attempting to dig up the lawn, throwing a Nerf football through the gate repeatedly (that was one of mine, of course), wrestling, playing tag, and relaxing with the adults.

I know we'll see more snow - probably later this week - but now I am sure of it: spring is coming!

Random Tidbits: Lylisms

2008-03-11T22:17:00.002-05:00

Lyle, sitting at the desk in our freezing-cold sun room: "I'm going to write you a note, Mommy!"

Me (making lunch): "Mmmmhmmm..."

Lyle: "It's a really special note for you!"

Me (starting to pay attention): "Oh, thanks, Lyle! What does it say?"

Lyle (deliberately pointing word by word to each scribbled line):

"It says, 'My. Butt. Is. Cold!'"

***

Lyle appears in the kitchen in his dress-up chef hat, which is falling over his eyes.

Me: "Wow, Lyle, you look like a chef!"

Lyle: "Yeah, I'm going to be a baker when I grow up! With Baxter!"

Me: "Mmm, what will you make? Cakes and...?"

Lyle: "Pies!"

Me: "Oh, yum! I love pies. Anything else?"

Lyle: "Yes! Frozen hot dogs!"

Yes. No. Maybe.

2008-03-10T16:40:00.007-05:00

Yes, I am aware that it is Materialistic Monday.

No, I am not prepared.

Yes, I will be at the friggin' nursery school "gala" fund raiser this evening, drinking wine and finding another $100 worth of items to bid on in the auction so that we'll have met our friggin' $500 per family annual fund-raising goal.

Yes, I do think they should just raise the tuition by $500 per year and leave me alone with the fund-raising, already.

Yes, I'll be praying that someone bids on my donated speech-language evaluation so that I don't have to purchase anything else at all.

No, I'm not bitter. Why do you ask?

Maybe, if I buy something really fantastic, I'll try it out on the way home and post about it later. But I doubt it.

Yes, you do have to come back another day for my Materialistic Monday post because I'm cookin' up a good one.

No, I won't keep babbling. I need to go home.

Here there be Scarves

2008-03-09T21:00:00.009-05:00

Matt's parents came yesterday to spend the afternoon and evening with the boys.

And the skies opened, revealing the very heavens above, and together Matt and I flew on the wings of angels far up into the sky and slid down on a rainbow singing the Hallelujah Chorus...

Or holed ourselves up in the office for 3 hours and did our taxes and all kinds of other financial crap. But whatever. The Devil's in the details.

We did go out later for an absolutely incredible Indian dinner here. (We decided to do this once we found out we were getting a decent refund - thank GOD - because if we had owed, we'd have taken our forks straight out to the dumpster in the alley and started digging. I kid you not.) So we did go out and do something nice, I swear. Now stop hounding me. Sheesh.

Anyway, this is all a very long and obnoxious way of saying that Matt's parents were here and we were beyond grateful. Furthermore, my mother-in-law brought some adorable fleece scarves she'd made for the boys out of carefully-chosen fabric (CARS movie printed fleece for Lyle, sharks for Baxter), and they wore them all evening, by grandparent report. They were (appropriately) not allowed to sleep in them due to the inherent choking hazard, but one tiny scarf had been made for Lyle's "Baby" - it matched Lyle's, and Oma determined that Baby was unlikely to meet his demise by choking on a CARS scarf in the wee hours, and so he got to wear his to bed.

Have we discussed the fact that OMA ROCKS?!

Oh God. I have to cut back on the chocolate.

Fast forward to this morning...one of the best parts about having a 7-year old in the house is that he is savvy enough to operate most of our techmology himself. So when the boys woke up at 6:07 am (thanks, Captain Time Change!), they were able to go turn on a Wallace & Gromit DVD themselves and we could attempt to go back to sleep despite the sounds of Wallace asking for his Wensleydale and Gromit shooting at a penguin from a steam train car.

When I finally got up and went into the living room, I frightened the boys by laughing out loud very heartily. This might not sound nice, but you would have, too, even though most of you are ever so much nicer than me.

I can be certain of your laughter because this is how they were watching TV:

They are dorks, I know this. But they're my dorks. They come by it naturally, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

PS: Just to freak you out further, here's Baby all decked out in his jaunty new scarf as he headed to church today, tucked into Lyle's seat belt:

Making French Toast with the Boys

2008-03-08T13:33:00.004-06:00

As Baxter put it, "At least we didn't break anything..."

(Not unless you count the egg broken all over the counter, no. And, since the glass bowl Lyle threw into the mixing bowl was Pyrex, it didn't break.)

Autism and Vaccines

2008-03-07T13:31:00.005-06:00

I'm sure many of you are aware of the headline story today informing us that the government awarded a great deal of money to the family of a 9-year old girl whose underlying mitochondrial disorder was aggravated after receiving 5 shots containing 9 vaccines at the age of 18 months. Her disorder's reaction to those shots took on the appearance of autistic-like characteristics.

And so, because we seem to live with one foot in Sensationalist News Hell and the other foot in Short Attention Span Hell, the buzz is that the government has acknowledged all of a sudden that there is a link between vaccines and autism. This is not the case, folks. Honestly, much as I would like the answer to be that easy, it is not the case; probably not ever, but at least not in this situation.

Two very intelligent woman have written brilliant pieces on this topic today and so, rather than attempting to unravel it for you myself in a less-than-brilliant manner, I am going to suggest you take a moment today to read what Dr. Kristina Chew has to say with these three posts at Autism Vox and then hop on over to hear what my friend Dr. Emily Willingham has to say at A Life Less Ordinary because she has her own way of explaining the genetic piece of the puzzle to us so that we can understand it.

We need more intelligent people out there who are able to talk about this issue with some facts that are based in reality, so read on!

What Really Counted Today

2008-03-06T19:38:00.011-06:00

You know those days? The ones when your children are clinging to their worst selves for dear life, as if by showing their sweetness they might be tossed into the wild ocean and eaten by bloodthirsty sharks? Do you know those?

Yeah, I thought so.

That's the kind of afternoon I had with the boys. The kind where Lyle doesn't nap and so is alternately grouchy and ridiculously punchy, and Baxter springs from the dismissal line at school like a hugely overgrown puppy, nearly knocking us over with his full-body hug and getting reprimanded by the older gentleman he smashed into along the way. The kind where I step out of the car to pump gas and wish I could stay all afternoon out there in the cold, hunched over alongside my car, breathing fumes. Where I have to pick up a couple things at the grocery store (is that really, truly so much to ask?) and they are so hyper I want to slink down the aisle while they are loudly suggesting I buy them some Popsicles ("Because it weally is a warm, warm day, Mommy...") and hide around the corner, preferably snuggled in among the really good cabernets, if you know what I mean. Oh, and the kind where I finally pull over to the side of a busy street and confiscate every last glove, mitten, hat, and anything else not tied down to the car (or the children) that might be thrown across the back seat or into the front seat because if that happens one more time I will lose my shit and start throwing things back at them. Big things.

Yes, the kind of afternoon where I suddenly grow sharp, ugly fangs, and frightening horns spring from my head, and I say crazy things at full volume and retract hot cocoa promises. And all I want is for these two crazy-making little people to find another corner of the house for, oh, 4 years or so, allowing me to read a book and cook some more good food. In silence.

But then. Then they decide they'd like to sleep together, since we're already warm and cuddled in the queen-size bed in the playroom reading Harry Potter and The Berenstain Bears, and they look so sleepy and sweet that I let them. And so I move the monitor and take about 10 essential items from their bunk bed and toss them into the big bed among the drowsy guys, and I see the adorable grins on their faces as they cuddle up together, falling asleep before I am even out of the room.

And I can see that this will work out just fine, them sleeping together tonight and this raising of two children, and realize that most of that time when they are making me crazy they are also really enjoying each other, and although I lingered at the gas station today breathing fumes in exchange for peace and quiet, that does count for a lot.

A whole lot.

Cooking Day

2008-03-06T10:39:00.004-06:00

Today is a Cooking Day.

These days don't come around all that often here at Chez Wonderwheel, but I'm always happy when they do. In fact, I don't usually know it's a Cooking Day until the morning comes and I see that rare block of time that would allow me to both shop and cook. Today, for example, was supposed to be a Workout Day, until I rose and realized that my chest cold was holding on just long enough to cause too much asthma and coughing for a good workout. And so - presto chango! - it became a Cooking Day.

Rushing to the local market after preschool drop-off, where I would someday like to spend hours exploring the aisles of food whose labels are in languages I can't even recognize let alone translate, I picked up the ingredients for Slow Cooker Salsa Chicken, Quick Tortellini Soup, and Chickpea and Sausage Stew. I also have ingredients ready for Slow Cooker Sweet Potato-Pinto Bean Chili, which is outrageously delicious and will be made as soon as the slow cooker is free of the Salsa Chicken that is currently making my home smell fabulous. A shout-out goes to Shannon, whose selections for her Tuesday Do-Little Dinners series have been really yummy and (as promised) easy, even for me! I'm always looking for easy meals, especially ones I can throw in the crock pot in the morning and either freeze or eat later.

None of these will be tonight's dinner, which is going to be Sloppy Joes, much to the boys' excitement, but when a Cooking Day arrives, I make as much as I can for all the rest of the days when I come home at 5:30, hang out with the boys and then realize they're falling apart and famished and it's time to pull out the Panini Press for Yuppie Grilled Cheese and warmed up veggie soup - or something a bit heartier that I've made ahead on a Cooking Day.

Speaking of the boys, I should add that they eat almost none of the foods listed above. (Other than the aforementioned Sloppy Joes, of course.) This may sound heartless, but I sort of don't care. I hear that other kids (like Shannon's) do eat some of these meals and love them, but my boys only rarely enjoy something that wouldn't be found on a Kids Menu at your local American Cuisine restaurant. This is not something we encouraged, nor do we support it, it's just reality with their particular taste buds right now (although I see it gradually changing). But we don't make separate meals. I try to make sure there's one thing on the plate they like (maybe a few apple slices or half a slice of bread if I know the entree is especially unpalatable to them) to get Lyle to the table and seated without a big fit, but if they don't like dinner they don't eat it. (But they still have to stay at the table until we're all done.) Thankfully, they'll eat a good variety of vegetables and that's not usually a battle. They don't get more bread or apple slices unless they've tried everything (at least a "no thank you" bite). Yes, they go to bed hungry sometimes. Tough luck, guys. It's not like they're underfed. And as a toddler Lyle truly went to bed without a bite of food multiple times - nor milk because he was so upset about the offerings that he wouldn't come to the table - and gone to sleep hungry, but he has never woken up hungry in the night since infancy. He just eats a ton of breakfast the next day. And there are enough other nights when they get things they love and they chow down.

Here is part of what drives this decision for me - I don't want my kids to behave like whiny little buggers at other people's homes, which is what Baxter used to do when we catered to him more at home. It's downright embarrassing when the child gets to be around 3. Now they know, wherever they are, that they can eat what they like on their plate and need to keep quiet about the rest.

And so, it's a Cooking Day. Thankfully, I know that at least the adults in this household will love everything that is on the stove, in the oven, and in the crock pot, and I'm having a great time making it!

Navigating Negative Emotions (Part One)

2008-03-04T20:35:00.002-06:00

Come on over to The Family Room, where I've got a new post up tonight about why some children with autistic spectrum disorders have such a difficult time accepting and understanding negative emotions in themselves and others.

(And after you've read it, keep reading, because if you haven't read Susan's blog yet, you're missing out!)

Lyle Goes 'Round the Sun

2008-03-04T13:41:00.005-06:00

Today was my monthly "assist day" at Lyle's co-op nursery school. It also happened to be the day we chose with him to do the school's little birthday celebration "Lyle goes 'round the sun" since he has a summer birthday and wouldn't otherwise get to do it. They don't do treats (ever!) but let the kids sit on a plastic cut-out of the sun and sing a little tune about how they've gone 'round the sun again. It's very cute and although Lyle is not totally comfortable with being the center of attention, he was looking forward to it.

Here are a few photos I took while there today:

Lyle at the writing center.

Learning that blue and yellow paint makes green!

Reading stories with Daddy at the end of the morning.
(We also had our teacher conference after school.)

Lyle going 'round the sun!

Materialistic Monday: Safety 1st High-Def Digital Monitor

2008-03-03T07:37:00.003-06:00

Night One
It was midnight last Wednesday. We were wrenched out of deep sleep by sudden, horrible screaming. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!", Lyle screamed in a really unusual, horrifying way. Matt tore off downstairs. Seconds later it changed to, "Mommy! Mommy!" and I followed. But by the time I got down to the kids' level, Matt was leaving their room, shaking his head. "It's not him," he said.

It wasn't Lyle.

This had happened before. We are in a condo building where three other young children live. If our monitor is on the wrong channel, we pick up the signal from one of them in the middle of the night and get scared shitless for no reason whatsoever. Hearts pounding, grateful that Lyle was fine, we finally went back to sleep.

Night Two
It was 11 pm. I picked up the monitor. "Is this on the right channel for sure?" I asked Matt, who was already in bed. "Yeah, we changed it after last night," he replied. I felt uncertain. The loud static wasn't exactly the same as its usual loud static. I switched it back and forth to demonstrate this. But he insisted. And we were both so tired that we decided it had to be fine and was not worth testing. After all, the kids so rarely wake up during the night and our sleep was disturbed last night - we were sure to be fine even if it wasn't fixed (you see where this is going, don't you?). So off we went to la-la land.

Until 1 am. Never have I been jarred from sleep in this way. In my life. I pulled myself out of an intense dream (I recall pushing people out of the way in my dream in order to get myself up to the surface of consciousness), only to start screaming. Loudly. I was screaming because Matt was screaming. Matt was screaming because, from somewhere else in the house, both of the boys were screaming. At the top of their lungs. As if the house were on fire. That is truly what I believed (in my semi-consciousness) must have been happening. We could hear someone pounding up the stairs towards us, screaming and crying. I fought my way off of our bed, not even aware of my screaming, and pushed towards the doorway, where Matt had stopped to meet Baxter. Matt turned to me in half-asleep anger, and hollered, "WHY ARE YOU STILL SHOUTING?" Trying to catch my breath, I shouted, "WHERE'S LYLE?? WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Matt could see that Lyle was running up the stairs screaming and crying behind Baxter, but I couldn't, being trapped in the bedroom and all. Once all four of us were in each other's arms in the doorway, it became abundantly clear that all of us had been hollering at the very top of our lungs together.

"I had an earache," cried Baxter.

Um, an earache?! You mean the house is neither on fire nor full of armed militiamen?

"I was calling for you and calling for you," he started wailing, "and you didn't come! And then Lyle woke up and he was calling for you, too. When I came upstairs to find you, he got scared and upset and started to scream and chased me. I was so scared that I started running and screaming, too!" We were all shaking.

Holy Mary Mother of God, you have no idea what it sounded like. If not for the storm we were stuck in last summer in Michigan, this would have been my scariest parenting moment ever. We took the kids into bed with us and held them tight for the rest of the night. It took some of us many hours to fall asleep again.

Enter: a new monitor. One that not only does NOT pick up any neighbors' children but has no static whatsoever. It is clear as a bell. And only one channel that only connects to my own children's room! Imagine! I could go on and on about this monitor but I'm sure many of my readers have no use for one anymore. Just know that if you do need one, or know anyone who does, this Safety 1st High-Def Digital Monitor is truly amazing and you can read all about it here. It also looks damn cool, like something from the Apple store, which you know will always make us happy. We have always leaned towards the $19.99 baby monitors, but this time no price was too steep to guarantee that we would always hear our kids - and only our kids - during the night.

We're all sleeping better now.

Happy Birthday to the Wonderwheel

2008-03-01T19:11:00.006-06:00

A year ago today I wrote my first post here on The Wonderwheel.

I'd been blogging since August 2005 in conjunction with Matt; first on Baxtergarten (chronicling our experience of sending Captain Enthusiasm to kindergarten) and then on Show Me Another City (in which we prepared for and made the move to Chicago).

But after a while it became abundantly clear that I was the big mouth in the family. Furthermore, the more settled we became here, the less I was writing specifically about the transition to our new city, and thus my writing ceased to fit with our blog theme. It was time to move on and set up shop on my own. (And by the way, Matt set up camp over here.)

Writing here for the past year has been a tremendously rewarding experience on so many levels. When I started blogging for the very first time I think I had three readers and they were all related to me, and that was just fine. At that point, having a place to reflect and record it all was a huge positive change. But as time has gone on and the community of readers out there has grown, I have come to value the support, input, and reciprocity of blogging a great deal; not to mention the true friends I have made!

Thanks for sticking with me on this wild ride. I truly appreciate the fact that there are so many of you out there coming back time and time again and for all of the feedback you give me, no matter what I'm sharing from my life.

And so, without further ado...on to Year Two!

I Was Tagged (or Where Did February Go?)

2008-02-29T09:50:00.003-06:00

Oh, my. The lovely Mari tagged me all the way from Australia, lo these many weeks ago! Sorry, Mari - here you go, and thanks for the tag!

The rules:
A. The rules are posted at the beginning
B. Answer the questions about yourself
C. Tag 5 people, let them know in a comment on their blogs that they have been tagged.

What were you doing 10 yrs ago?
Hmm. In the winter of 1998 I had been living in San Francisco for about 6 months. Downtown, on the top floor of a modern building with a view of the Bay. (Which sure beat the mouse- and roach-infested place we'd been in when I was in grad school in Boston!) I was finishing my Clinical Fellowship Year at a private practice in Palo Alto, on the Stanford campus, and planning my getaway from that job the moment I completed my requisite 10 months there. Matt and I didn't really know many people and were living a fairly reclusive, quiet life together despite the tumultuous El Nino year weather. You couldn't exactly say we were taking advantage of the city. In truth, I did not fall in love with San Francisco until we'd been there about a year.

Snacks I enjoy:
1. Chocolate
2. Kashi Go-Lean bars
3. Apples
4. Pretzels
5. Chocolate

Five things on my to-do list today:
Wait. For today? I'm a little scared of my to do list right now, frankly. But I'll buck up and face the facts here.

1. Pay bills, for God's sake! (Turns out bills didn't stop coming just because I took two trips last week)
2. Call the Northwestern intern who will be working with me next quarter (whoo hoo!)
3. Write up my notes from the SCERTS workshop in order to share them with a colleague and perhaps with you, dear Wonderwheel readers!
4. Clean up this total mess of a house.
5. Figure out when we're going to take the car in for repair. Or delegate this job to Matt. Either one.

Things I would do if I became a billionaire:
The thing is, I've thought this over and I don't think I'd actually change my life all that much if I were a billionaire. Now, Matt might feel differently and so maybe I'd find myself living on a tropical island or in a flat with maid service in Paris. But if it were up to me, here's what I'd do:

1. Not charge my clients - ever! (Take that, insurance companies!)
2. Pay off our condo
3. Buy a new car (something smallish and hybrid)
4. Buy really good health insurance for my family and extended family
5. Make sure our parents and grandparents live as comfortably as they want
6. Travel everywhere!
7. Pay our nanny what she's worth
8. Donate to our church
9. Hang out at Benefit more often
10. Give the rest to Barack's campaign

3 bad habits:
1. Not enough flossing
2. Stress-eating
3. Reading all of your blogs on my iPhone when sitting in traffic or at a red light

5 places I have lived:
1. Middletown, Connecticut
2. St. Paul, Minnesota
3. Boston, Massachusetts
4. San Francisco, California
5. Chicago, Illinois

Jobs I have had:
1. Babysitter (from age 13 to age 25)
2. Cashier at Lyman's Orchard (with a broken collarbone in a sling)
3. Nanny (for one miserable summer outside of Boston)
4. Deli girl at RC Dick's on Grand Ave. in St. Paul (for a total of 3 weeks)
5. Preschool/Toddler teacher (ran my own class of 12 toddlers - picture that one!)
6. Speech-Language Pathologist (aaah, sweet relief!)

Things people don't know about me:
Hmmm, what haven't I told you? Not much...

1. I am an amazing sleeper. I turn off my light, close my eyes, and - that's it. Until the kids wake us up in the morning. Matt doesn't usually bother asking how I slept anymore because it's a ridiculous question.

2. I have a brother who is 14 months younger than me. We've had a very rocky relationship and have been completely estranged from each other for more than a year and a half. You don't have to tell me how terrible that is, it's not my preference, believe me.

3. I get stuck in a rut with music. I can listen to one single CD in my car for, oh, maybe 7 or 8 months straight without tiring of it. I'm just starting to come down from a "Once" soundtrack high that definitely lasted at least 7 months. Before that it was a mix I made for my friends after a weekend together last year, and prior to that it was a Norah Jones CD. I'm pretty sure it was Allison Krauss before that. (As an aside, just yesterday someone did a Google search of "what make up colors does allison krauss wear" and ended up at this blog. Endlessly fascinating.)

4. I have never once colored my hair more permanently than doing a henna treatment or two in college. No highlights, no dye. Not as a teenager, nor as an adult. I am not opposed to doing so when the day comes that I deem it to be necessary, but thus far I appear to be taking after my father who went grey rather late.

I am going to honor those who bravely came forth during my delurker week or are brand new readers this week by tagging them:

Wishful Mommy
KAL at Autism Twins
Goodfountain
Cindy at We All Fall Down
Kristen at What Grows Around

Let There be Cupcakes!

2008-02-27T20:58:00.007-06:00

I reached for the cupcakes at Whole Foods this morning - vanilla, Lyle's favorite, with coconut sprinkled generously across the top - and paused, thinking to myself, It's his half-birthday, you dork. He doesn't need cupcakes! This is a fake occasion, right up there with celebrating the 100th day of school! Just tell him he's three and a half and move on!

And then I reached for the cupcakes and determinedly placed them in my shopping cart, sending a text message to the babysitter: "Tell Lyle it's his half birthday and we'll celebrate tonight!"

At the dinner table, he could barely contain himself. He stood on his chair because from that vantage point he was able to take in the glorious dinner I'd given him (Trader Joe's 3-cheese pizza, chopped pineapples, and veggie chips - his favorites!) and the cupcakes back on the kitchen counter. "This is gonna be quite a party!" he crowed.

On a whim I set the iPod to Lyle's 3rd Birthday Mix, a selection I put together for his birthday last August, and while we ate we jammed to some of his faves, such as a couple of hits from Mary Poppins, Justin Roberts, Dan Zanes, and the local Wiggleworms music class CD.

After our fantabulous dinner and cupcakes, I declared it Dance Party Time. The three of us were on fire, I tell you, on fire. Lyle danced in circles around us, yelling, "I'm having a great time with you guys!" over and over. (He later took me by the hand and declared solemnly, "You are my best friend.")

Suddenly, Dan Zanes' Wonderwheel came on and there I was, dancing with my little guys in my kitchen on Lyle's half birthday, thinking about how blessed I am to have this family and house and a husband on his way back from a business trip and this blog and all of you friends out there from all over the world to share the highs and lows of my life with, and I was just overcome with gratitude. Truth be told, today I am exhausted, sick, and in possession of a work to do list with 21 undone items remaining, but all of that vanished in one big happy moment and has left me glowing all evening.

Just like us, our children are facing lots of challenges and have hard times ahead of them. No matter who they are or how they came into this world, no matter how well cared for, fed, educated, and played with, nothing is guaranteed for any of us. Nothing.

So, by god, if we've got a chance to eat cupcakes and dance like crazy people and celebrate "fake" occasions together, let's do it. Because it is what will get them - and us - through the harder moments in life.

A Monumental Day

2008-02-26T20:30:00.007-06:00

Today, ladies and gentlemen, something absolutely monumental took place at Chez Wonderwheel!

As you may know, my little guy has been having all sorts of separation issues lately, and you'll recall that I gave him the lovely glass heart to hang onto when I'm at work.

Words cannot do justice to the difference that heart has made. He separates in the morning without tears, he brings it to preschool and hides it in his cubby. He sleeps with it under his pillow. At night, when each of the boys picks a song "theme" for me to sing to them (I improvise a song based on their theme of choice to the same tune every night), he has been asking me to sing a song about "heart". (Baxter? "Pokemon.")

The heart seemed to set the stage for his successful participation in Advanced Separation 301, allowing me an unheard of transition in and out of our home when I went to both Minneapolis and San Francisco last week. Truly, it was a breeze - Lyle was perfectly happy while I was away both times and did not even make me pay for my absence upon my return! This is nothing short of miraculous.

But all of that - all of it - was a drop in the bucket compared to today. Because this boy, this child who has been completely unable to take a nap on the days we're home together (Tues/Thurs) for many months now - despite the fact that he'll nap 2-3 hours for everyone else - declared during lunch that he was tired and ready to nap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if separating from me by slipping into unconsciousness for a couple of hours wasn't a horrifying thought all of a sudden!

Furthermore, he willingly napped even when I explained that, due to the late start of this unexpected nap, I would have to leave the house soon to pick up his brother at school. This meant that I was going to have to leave the child monitor with our (very familiar) neighbor across the hall. He was cool with this. I showed him how, when he woke up, if I didn't come down when he called, he was to talk into the monitor and tell the neighbor he was awake because it meant I wasn't home yet. And still - he remained unfazed. He thought this was peachy keen, and hoped he'd get to go play with her daughter and maybe pet the cats.

Huh?

So wait - not only would he separate from me and take a nap, but it was actually okay with him if I left the house during his nap and left him in the care of a neighbor, knowing that I may or may not be here when he woke up?!

Oh. my. God.

I tucked him in with the monitor close by and heart no. 55 resting in his sweet little hand, and walked carefully upstairs, sitting stock still on the couch for 10 minutes and steeling myself for the sound of his feet pounding upstairs after me, realizing he wanted to come with me to get his brother, or that he would miss me too much, didn't want a nap after all.

But he did it. He fell asleep. A deep sleep that lasted until I came home with Baxter, whose pounding feet woke him. But I didn't care. Because he slept for TWO HOURS! On my watch!

There's something to be said for a child's positive experience of being without mama for a few days and realizing that everything is still okay. She calls, she brings presents, and she always comes back.

I'm going out of town more often. That's all there is to it.

Utter Nonsense

2008-02-26T13:47:00.005-06:00

The boys have had more and more periods of delightful interaction lately. Last night Lyle pulled out this Blokus game and started to use the tiles to configure letters of the alphabet (accurately, which I found somewhat shocking). This drew attention from his big brother, and the two of them lay companionably on the rug, head to head, putting tiles into the board and talking complete and utter nonsense to each other. I paused in my dinner-making activities to take a minute-long video of the brotherly bonding.

Anyone who has spent more than about 15 minutes with me in my life will recognize that these random dudes could only be my children:

Materialistic Monday: TomTom

2008-02-25T20:14:00.006-06:00

Okay, I know. If you've been following Cindy (as you should be), you've heard about this recently. In fact, I had a few ideas for this week's post that you might not have read about in the past two point five minutes.

However.

My Tom Tom GPS saved my ass so many times in California this past week that now I cannot NOT write about it.

You see, in the weeks before Christmas, I was asked by Baxter to explain what a GPS system is because we were giving one to Matt's Dad for Christmas. I had never thought of one for myself, had never even been in a vehicle with one, at the time. But partway through my description of what it does, I flashed to all the Google Maps I constantly print out for myself and carry around with me, and I recall saying vaguely, "Actually, I could probably use one of those myself!" And the rest was history.

According to Matt, there was no getting him off the topic. No attempts of "How about some earrings?" or "Mommy would love a massage..." would move the child. "No. Mommy wants a GPS," he told Matt with determination. He wouldn't even budge for the old tangerines and beer fall back gift, which he insisted on giving to each of his parents the year he was 3.

No, it was to be a GPS. So my guys bought one for me.

And, let me tell you, it rocks! As Cindy mentioned, I keep mine set to a British man's voice, "Tim", who instructs me to "stay on the left lane" and "keep on the motorway", which is about the only thing that could make Hwy 101 interesting.

But beyond Tim's fantastic voice, I do enjoy that he tells me how to actually get places. Quickly! He remembers all of my destinations, which is handy, and has all sorts of options such as showing all parking garages in the vicinity, which was extremely helpful a couple times last week.

I also love the "Do you need to be there by a certain time?" feature. For example, last week when I had to be at the SCERTS training by 8:30 am in the suburbs of San Francisco, I plugged in the address the night before and it told me what time I had to leave in order to arrive by 8:30, thereby making sure I allowed enough time. Furthermore, it continually re-calculates my time as I'm driving, so when I hit bad traffic I could see the "new and not-so-improved" time of arrival getting updated and was able to send a text message to say I was going to arrive late and by how long (it's handy when the presenter is a personal friend!).

On another occasion in the past week, I left the conference one night and drove off towards my aunt's house for dinner. I knew the way so I didn't use my Tom Tom, of course (because it's not the first week anymore, sillies!). However, I accidentally went north instead of south on the highway (proving once again that it's been a while since I've actually lived out there) and when I got off the exit realized I had chosen poorly and couldn't just get right back on. Oops. Did I mention that this was in the middle of a major rainstorm? I didn't have her address with me but remembered the cross streets and that was enough. I stopped, programmed the intersection into my Tom Tom, and my courteous friend Tim got me there.

I am All. Over. It.

Thanks, Bax.

I'm Distracting You - Oooh, Shiny!

2008-02-25T20:02:00.004-06:00

I know, I know. Materialistic Monday is coming. I swear! Soon. Like, within the hour!

But for now, kill a few minutes in the most hilarious way: visit someecards.

Seriously.

And then send me one because I could always use a laugh of that nature.

A Little Bit Here and There

2008-02-22T23:37:00.004-06:00

I've written before, specifically here and here, about what it's like to come back to San Francisco now after being gone for a year and a half.

At Christmas, as the four of us visited with my family and lots of friends we've known for years, it was the place where we became parents. We revisited favorite places with the boys and spent lots of time with their old friends, walking down the streets of our history as a family.

This particular trip has brought back the San Francisco in which I began my career. I am an independent agent here for four days, tooling around in my little rental car from lunch with a colleague to a client's house and then to my favorite hairdresser. I go out with colleagues (always some of my favorite people to hang out with) and laugh and talk for over three hours without noticing the time. I go out for a great dinner with my cousin, who's letting me crash in her beautiful apartment.

As I looked around the smallish room where I sat for the first day of my SCERTS training today, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, seeing people I hadn't seen in ages even when I did live here. One woman looked at me like I was a ghost, and said she'd heard I'd moved somewhere and so couldn't quite believe it was me. I wanted to say, "Neither can I." I had lunch with a woman I worked very closely with my first year out of grad school but haven't seen since I left the job 10 years ago.

I am acutely aware of my great good fortune. Grateful to have the life in which I am happier than I'd ever imagined I could be, back in my new city of Chicago. But on occasion, I stop myself while I'm here, living a life that feels an awful lot like my old life here - and where I am quite comfortable and have so many connections - and dare to ask myself cautiously, "Would you rather still be living here?", a little bit afraid to hear my own answer. But somehow the answer is always, "No," even when I'm surrounded by people I love.

I feel a little like I'm neither here nor there tonight, confused about where my real life is after a few days of this cognitive dissonance.

I think, though, that perhaps the truth is I'm always going to have these opportunities to be a little bit here and there; and in that, I have it all.

I Did it!!

2008-02-21T18:01:00.001-06:00

It's short! And I took your advice - it's shorter in back. I love it!

View

2008-02-21T09:48:00.002-06:00

I always love the view from my cousin's kitchen window in the Mission District. Colorful buildings almost come together, leaving just enough space for a glimpse of Sutro Tower, a San Francisco classic.

Delurker Week on The Wonderwheel

2008-02-19T23:00:00.006-06:00

Hey, gang at Cheers, I'm out of town for the rest of the week. Maybe I'll have time to post, but if not I'll be thinking of you and saving up plenty of random thoughts to write about while I'm away, so don't you worry your pretty little heads about it.

So here's what I'm thinking - how's about, since you all stopped by here anyway, maybe you take a moment to say "hi" to me this week? Leave me a little hello comment on this post to cheer me when I'm missing my family. Especially those of you - and you know who you are! - who frequent my little corner of the blogosphere but haven't said hello yet! I know there are lots of you out there...you on the west coast, and you down south - oh, and especially you reading from the town next door to where I grew up (do you even know that? that i used to buy my cosby sweaters at bob's surplus on main street and then go to ruby's for a dr. brown's cream soda before my oddfellows playhouse rehearsals?).

Don't worry, lurkers are always welcome and you don't have to say hi. You truly don't have to contribute to enjoy my little song and dance here, I'm just glad you're here. But if you've been thinking of speaking up with a little "Ahem, I'm out here!" this would be a great week to do it. 'Cuz, honestly, there might not be too much else happening here. (Unless you want to watch my Twitter badge there in the sidebar. I'm sure I'll be tweeting from my iPhone like a freaking magpie on drugs while I'm away.)

That's all I'm saying. Just my own private Delurker Week. I sorta missed the official one last month.

Whaddya say?

Hat Nap

2008-02-19T15:46:00.002-06:00

Things to Check Out Today

2008-02-19T08:30:00.006-06:00

This is a picture that made me very happy today in a wanting-to-see-McCain's-demise sort of way, and you too can enjoy it right here at The Wonderwheel! (And then head on over to Cindy's blog where I first saw it, because her blog is great. You won't be sorry.) Can you stand four years of our new president slow-dancing with Dubya?

Fired up! Ready to go!

***

I had seen the Free Rice web site discussed elsewhere on The Internets over the past few months, but shied away from it because I'd heard it's so addictive, and you know, who has time for more addictions, even though the UN World Food Program donates 20 grains of rice to help end hunger every time you correctly define a word? But when Susan instructed me to head on over, assuring me that I'd love it, I listened. (Because you just listen to Susan, don't you?) And, hoo boy, it's cool. And addictive.

But I decided that it's okay because then you've donated so many grains of rice, which just has to make up for being a white middle class American with the luxury to waste time online in the middle of a week day. Right? Anyway, if you like words and language, go check it out. It's been a while since I've been this grateful for my three years of high school Latin instruction.

***
And, on a far less cheery note, there is an online letter you too can sign that demands an apology from the CBS network, which aired a clip on its already idiotic "Big Brother" show last week in which one Neanderthal referred to children with autism as "retards". Way to go, CBS. Jeebus.

Tell 'em what you think here. Please!

Big Fancy Brother

2008-02-18T14:29:00.005-06:00

We tried to go out to play today. Really, we did. Matt was able to take a little holiday time off this morning and we all bundled up to get some fresh air and attempted to go to the neighborhood playground for some exercise. However, once out in the below-zero wind chill, Lyle didn't make it further than the corner ATM. To Matt and Baxter's credit, they spent about 15 minutes at the playground, and had a rousing game of catch with an ice ball. (Don't you just love hearing about life in the midwest, those of you who live elsewhere?!)

Once both boys were back at the house, they made up this fantastic game which served the dual purposes of a) burning off some energy and b) making their mother very happy to see them getting along so well. Believe me, not every interaction between my sons looks like this; if it did, I would not have pulled out the video camera. But they're able to play together well more and more often these days, and they remind me of a couple of energetic little puppies.

The fun continued when they were called upstairs to lunch and Baxter agreed to help Lyle wash his hands (often a bone of contention). As I passed by the bathroom door I heard Lyle declare happily, "Baxter? You are my big, fancy brother!!"

Here are the two fancy brothers having a great time together in the play room (adult supervision highly recommended):

Materialistic Monday: You're Kidding, Right?

2008-02-18T10:01:00.003-06:00

Don't be ridiculous! I have cute boys to play with today! And hot cocoa to drink!

But don't worry. I'll pick up on Materialistic Monday again next week.

xoxo.

Roam if You Want to

2008-02-17T21:18:00.008-06:00

A weekend away. With friends.

Need I say more? Probably not, but I will anyway.

As I wrote about after our first annual weekend together last February, these are three college friends of mine, all former roommates at one time or another, so we have a history that goes back a rather frightening 19 years now. Last year's gathering was a catching-up time, a time to reconnect after quite a few years, for some of us. A great deal of growing up had taken place in the intervening years, and a lot of hard stuff was going on for some of us. Last year's weekend was, well, cathartic, I'd say. This year we were all on terra firma, more or less. That's not to say that we've got it all figured out (whatever that would look like) but we've made strides; let's put it that way.

We were able to just hang out. Went shopping, ate great meals. (I mean, really great.) Took a walk down memory lane by visiting our alma mater (which has become quite the yuppified institution since we attended it in the early 90s, let me tell you, although I should say that some things haven't changed), and stopped in on some of our favorite haunts nearby. I bought myself a cozy college sweatshirt. Enjoyed "Definitely, Maybe" quite a bit. Celebrated the little girl due in just 10 weeks, the eighth child among us. We drank a lot of coffee and I slept until 8:30 each morning. And best of all, we talked and talked and talked. It was less than a 48-hour visit for a variety of reasons, but that was okay. Next year we're committed to gathering for all three days again, but this was enough for now. Really.

I have an unusual amount of travel ahead of me in the coming months. Leaving home for a weekend is not completely easy with such young children at home, and having reasons to do so four months in a row feels rather excessive. But my family was fine without me. Better than fine, really. They all had a wonderful weekend. And the good it does me to get away a bit, find some space to breathe and be with friends, and drink coffee and talk? Well, it's a world of good.

During the cab ride home from the airport, the B52s song "Roam" came on the radio. An old favorite. As we drove up Lake Shore Drive with the dark, icy outline of Lake Michigan to the east and the gorgeous, twinkling skyline of Chicago lit up to the west, I celebrated these opportunities I have to roam a bit. And I decided that - as long as it's done thoughtfully and involves a great deal of joy about returning home - roaming is just what this Mama needs to do sometimes.

{Photo taken with my iPhone on Friday night's flight to Minnesota. Apologies to Cara for never managing to get a shot that included both of her eyes.}

Valentine's Day Photos

2008-02-14T23:07:00.001-06:00

Family of Valentines

2008-02-14T22:02:00.004-06:00

For my little guys, Valentine's Day is about a few different things. It's about waking up to some candy and a couple of new books on the breakfast table, and then handing out some of the yummy cookies they made for our friends and neighbors. For Baxter it's about bringing Scooby Doo Valentines to school and giving them to everyone during the class party in the afternoon. For Lyle it's about wearing pajamas to preschool and getting to watch "Harold and the Purple Crayon" on DVD. (I mean, seriously, a movie at preschool? Unimaginable excitement.)

For my big guy, Valentine's Day will probably mean fighting his way through another day with a bad head cold, and eating the Red Vines I've given him. Oh, and maybe sneaking a few of those yummy cookies when no one's looking. Those oughta take the edge off that cold.

But for me? My Valentine's Day highlight this year is about giving Baxter one of these lovely hearts that he's been pining for ever since I gave one to Lyle last week. Okay, and it's about giving one to Matt, too, because I also want him to have something to hold onto when he misses me.

You see, I'll be leaving on a jet plane after work tomorrow night for my Second Annual Unbelievably Fabulous Girls' Weekend, this time in Minneapolis because the friend who lives there is quite pregnant and not up for travel. I wrote about last year's amazing weekend here, and have been looking forward to doing it again all year; as in, I was excited in August that we were already halfway to the next one. That kind of excited. I have no doubt that I will have a wonderful time again this year. However, it is somewhat unfortunate that this weekend with friends and my trip to California are only going to be separated by two days; days which I will spend with the boys in their entirety, but which are still only two days bookended by time spent away from them.

And so we're going to need these hearts, all of us. My guys with their beautiful flecked glass hearts and me with the colorful Lego heart creation that Lyle made for me, the one that the boys fill with hugs, kisses, and love every time I leave the house. (Truly, every morning there's a huddle by the door as hearts are filled with smooches and "squeeeeeezy, squeeeezy hugs!". It would melt the heart of even the grinchiest Grinch.)

We'll hang on tight to these hearts, my sweet family of Valentines, over the next 10 days as we separate, come back together, and then separate once again, holding the love close until we are all under one roof and life returns to normal around here.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Shopping for a New Do

2008-02-12T10:42:00.000-06:00

Were I to win the lottery (which would entail me actually playing the lottery, so this is a stretch, but bear with me here) and then told that the only condition for getting the money was that I had to commit to one single brand for all my clothing and accessory needs, I would have no problem deciding.

"Hand over the big bucks," I would exclaim, "and take me to the nearest Garnet Hill catalog!"

I could drool over Garnet Hill all day. The clothes, the shoes, the accessories. Aahhhh, the accessories. Trouble is, Garnet Hill is pricey. (Of course it is. Why would I be in love with an affordable line of clothing?) And so I own but a couple of random and beloved items - a flannel night shirt here, a spring trench coat there - from this company.

But am I the only one out there who also shops for hair styles in her favorite clothing catalogs? You see, next week - and I know we haven't discussed this yet - I am going to go to San Francisco for four days on a work trip. I have a few hours here and there in the first couple of days when I don't have things scheduled - and am about 4 weeks late on getting my hair cut - and so I contacted my fabulous hair stylist - the one who cut my hair for almost all of the 9 years I lived in the Bay Area - and made an appointment.

SCORE!

Thing is, since I get to go there so rarely now I can't see just getting a trim. I mean, that's not making the most of his talents at all, is it? And so, although I'm enjoying having long hair most of the time, it's starting to drag me down a bit and certainly doesn't feel very spring-y. (And with temps in the 60s, it will even feel the littlest bit spring-y in California...) Must be time for a new do, right? Thus, the Garnet Hill catalog. Today I shopped for a new do. And I found this model whose hair seems fairly similar to mine, all over the catalog, adorable hair done in all kinds of different lovely ways that would work for me. (It does occur to me all of a sudden that I could've shopped for a new do on my own blog - this hair cut looks an awful lot like that happy chick up there on the wonderwheel, does it not?)

So what do you think? Should I go for it? Or just keep it long since it now fits into a ponytail? (And we've all seen how attractive that is by the end of the day!)

Now if only I could afford her clothes, too.

Materialistic Monday: Nissan Stainless Travel Mug

2008-02-10T20:00:00.000-06:00

In the past 8 years, have you ever worked with me? Been at an IEP with me, met me for an observation at your child's school, or stopped to chat with me at my desk? Driven in the car with me? Have you met me at the park on a Saturday, seen me at a child's birthday party, or been in a music class with me and one of my kids? Have you ever seen me in church or been at a family gathering with me?

If you can answer "yes" to any one of the above, then you've already seen this coffee mug.

I don't think we've discussed my obsession with coffee, but that will have to wait.

Because today it's all about the travel mug.

I know, I know. It's not a sexy topic like cosmetics, or a cute way to please Al Gore, but Materialistic Monday is simply about Things I Love. And I love this travel mug.

You see, I don't drink my coffee at home and then stick the mug in the ~~sink~~ dishwasher and head out the door. Most days, I fill this baby with some really hot, freshly ground, dark roast coffee early in the morning, and drink it all day. And I do mean all day. Far too often I'm still working on my morning coffee on my drive home at 5:00 - although, to be fair, some days I do refill it from a thermos at work. But even when it's the same coffee I poured at 8 AM, it is still plenty warm at 5 PM. Yes, it's true! 9 hours later! I can even leave it in the car on a very cold day for an hour or so and it's warm when I return.

(And tangentially, I haven't even mentioned to you all how cold it's been here lately...most of yesterday it was below zero (and with a wind chill of -20 degrees, my friends). You will only find this interesting if you don't live in Minnesota or Alaska. Or Canada. Any readers out there in Canada? Because I spent 6 years living in Minnesota, I have a hard time thinking of -20 as that cold, but it actually is. I mean, we still go about our business and all, but it takes a lot of bundling up and the wind can be painful. That coffee needs to stay warm, people.)

It also has the perfect snap top and fits into any car's drink holders. I don't care how many bags I'm carrying to work, you will always - always! - see me balancing this coffee mug in my hand as I struggle to hold onto the less important stuff (you know, like my laptop).

Eight years old, it's missing a bit of its gleam. It recently lost its black gripper. The musical note sticker that Baxter affixed to it when he was 4 years old threatens to peel off, and I had to put a new name label on it this year (because MY GOD, what if I lost it?!).

But like a child's favorite stuffed animal that becomes shabbier with love and use, it only gets better.

Keep On Pluggin', Obama!

2008-02-10T07:37:00.000-06:00

I think it would be difficult to read this segment from this morning's New York Times article
"Obama Gets Convincing Win in Three States" and not get a little goose-bumpy. He was expected to win those states, yes, but not by these margins. People are votin'!

"With the fight for the nomination extending beyond the 22 contests last Tuesday, voters in a fresh batch of states have suddenly found themselves in the thick of the most competitive primary in a generation. In past years they tended to cast their votes well after the nominee was effectively chosen.
On Saturday, with the contest so close, excitement ran high, as did turnout.
In Nebraska, The Omaha World-Herald reported that organizers at two caucus sites had been so overrun by crowds that they abandoned traditional caucusing and asked voters to drop makeshift scrap-paper ballots into a box instead. In Sarpy County, in suburban Omaha, traffic backed up on Highway 370 when thousands of voters showed up at a precinct where organizers had planned for hundreds.
In Washington, the Democratic party reported record-breaking numbers of caucusgoers, with early totals suggesting turnout would be nearly be nearly double what it was in 2004 — itself a record year — when 100,000 Democrats caucused."

I'm going to have to say: a lot of Americans appear to be Fired up and Ready to go!

Speaking of Love...

2008-02-09T21:09:00.000-06:00

This week, Lyle wasn't the only one to receive a heart! Mine was in the form of this spiffy award - The Spreader of Love Award - which we are told by Tulip Mom is for bloggers "whose daily/weekly posts spread love, laughs, and insight to all of us". For those of you who don't know her, Tulip Mom is a lovely and talented blogger I have recently discovered, and I am enjoying getting to know her very much - and so should you! So, thank you, Tulip Mom, for sending me a heart of my very own; I am flattered and will display it proudly!

And now, what better way to kick off Valentine's Day week than to pass this award along to a few others? This was challenging because most of the blogs I love best are of the "love spreading" variety and you all deserve this, but here's my short list for today:

1. kristen, talented novelist, incredible mother, and friend extraordinaire at from here to there and back

2. kyra of the beautiful writing, brilliant son, and cute pigtails at This Mom

3. drama mama whose faaaabulousness knows no bounds

4. vicki forman who blogs about her writing, talented children and professorial life through her special needs mama columns and speak softly.

5. niksmom who shares all the joys of parenting the Nik the Wonder Boy at maternal instincts

6. jessica, who can go from a dazzling piece on civil rights to a scattalogical post that makes you want to burp out loud at work, all in the course of a single day, at Oh, the Joys

Thank you for spreading love, laughs, and insight - to all of us!

Welcome to My World

2008-02-08T22:04:00.000-06:00

If a certain Senator from Illinois were to have delegates automatically added to his roster every time a local man hollered like a drill sargeant, "FIRED UP!" from Point A in the house in order for his wife to respond as loudly as she can, "READY TO GO!" from Point B (without waking the children), then we would be responsible for a fairly substantial increase in Obama delegates this week.

I'm just sayin'.

The Morning After

2008-02-08T09:54:00.000-06:00

Okay, so if this is what you normally see when you look in the mirror during the day:

(I mean, you know, a few hairs out of place and all - no emphasis on perfection here! - but generally clean, well-groomed enough, healthy color, and rested...)

And then one night you suddenly see this (look everyone, I'm going to post this scary picture AGAIN! You can't escape it!):

How could you help but be horrified and wonder if you really know what you ever actually look like during the course of a day?!

But, seriously - today I worship the Goddesses of Aveda, Bumble & Bumble, Benefit, and Sleep.

Bad Face Day

2008-02-07T20:54:00.001-06:00

Oh. My. God.

I was just sitting here, minding my own business, catching up with blogs on my laptop in my dark dining room, when all of a sudden a new window opened on my screen that I did not recognize. I stared at it, scowling (apparently) as I tried to figure out what the hell I was looking at, when suddenly it occurred to me that instead of clicking on an arrow at the side of my window to scroll down, I'd clicked on the "Photo Booth" icon and was looking at an absolutely horrendous screen shot of myself, ready to be photographed: unwashed hair dragged into a deranged-looking pony tail, tired face without make-up pulled into a nasty scowl. (It is suddenly clear where those frown lines are coming from.)

I was so mesmerized by the fact that this horror show of a woman could be me, that I had to press the shutter and capture it. It is a testament to how much I love you all that I would share this photo: the worst of me. It's so bad that I actually find humor in it. I laughed out loud.

I took a lot of photos I am proud of today - this is NOT one of them:

Winter Photos

2008-02-07T10:49:00.000-06:00

I was "supposed to" go to the gym today while Lyle was at nursery school. And yet when I left the house this morning, the neighborhood looked so magical. All I could think was, "I need my camera."

And so, when drop-off took a long time (had to get him into his snow pants so that they could go outside and play in the snow first thing!) and then I couldn't find parking anywhere near the gym, I did what I really wanted to do anyway, and headed back home for my camera. Sometimes aesthetics supersedes athletics.

Here is a photo set of my photography walk this morning. All of these photos were taken on the stretch of my block between my house and Lake Michigan, and then down on the beach.

A Heart Full of Mama Love

2008-02-06T20:15:00.004-06:00

My little one, my Lyle, he's been struggling lately with big, challenging emotions that he doesn't always know how to express, despite his many words. It's easy to be loud, he's discovered, loud and bossy and angry; not so easy to say, "Mommy, I miss you. I'm sad when you to go to work. Please stay home and play with me."

I chatted with my wonderful friend Kristen about this sad subject a few nights ago, and she (as you'd expect if you know her) was full of fantastic ideas, many of which I know I've heard before (and even suggested to others!) but needed to hear again myself at this very moment in time, about this very child. I'm so grateful that she took the time to help me with this when I needed it.

And so along came this morning. Lyle has been reading Dinofours books like they're going out of style (which is technically the case - they're out of print but you can still buy them used for really cheap on amazon!) and is subsequently finding the language to share his sad feelings with me far more readily than he has with any other strategy I've tried. So today he approached me, took me by the hand and bravely said, "Mommy, don't go to work yet. I want to play with you some more." And cried.

Now, to many of you, this probably seems heart-breaking. To me, it's just a little bit heart-warming, but only because I've been waiting for him to open up and say what's in his little heart, rather than showing me through unpleasant behaviors that only left me guessing.

I immediately employed two new strategies. First, I asked him if he'd like to call me on the phone after lunch so that we could talk to each other. His little eyes lit right up through his tears and he said, "Yes!" So I arranged this with the babysitter.

But then I suggested that I could also give him something special of mine to hold today when he's missing me. Now this idea he LOVED. "What is it?" he asked, following me to my bedroom as I searched the top of my dresser (didn't I used to have some shells or special rocks up there?). "Oh, it's really, really special," I replied with excitement, as I came up empty-handed and tried to hide my worry.

And then it hit me: the heart. My Heart is Hot heart! Didn't I say I felt it was almost time to pass it along to someone, but I didn't know who it was for?

It was for Lyle. Of course it was.

Child of my heart.

Child who wants to be with me every moment of every day and night, who carries around a sadness under the surface so much of the time because I'm either not going to be with him later, or wasn't home earlier in the day, or might not show up in his dreams that night.

I gave Lyle my heart.

I filled it with hugs and kisses and all my Mama love, and then handed it to him before I left with instructions to hold onto it when he was missing me.

For the first time in a few weeks, there were no tears when I left the house. He held the pretty glass heart all day long. It sat next to him at every meal, and was under his pillow as he napped. It was in his hands when I came home from work early due to a snowstorm, and he continued to hold onto it as we read books and played cars together all afternoon. "I love my heart," he told me before bed, "it's so pretty. And it has even more than your hugs and kisses in it. It has all these little red things!", noting the flecks of color inside.

"That's all my love, sweetie. That part is the love."

Fired Up! Ready to go!

2008-02-05T12:36:00.001-06:00

As Matt is fond of saying (in his "Obama is my Homeboy" shirt) Barack the Vote!

Whomever you support today, be sure you get out there and vote!

(But I'll love you more if it's Barack. There. I've said it.)

(Photos courtesy of Matt's Voting Adventures)

Materialistic Monday: Envirosax bags

2008-02-03T22:18:00.000-06:00

Oh, have I got a treat for you! This week's treasure is, well, actually five treasures.

Out in my car is a very small nylon sack. In that sack are five tiny rolled-up bags that snap closed.

When I hit the grocery store, Target, Benefit, whatever, I grab the sack out of my glove compartment and throw it into my purse, where it sits until check-out time.

And that, my friends, is where the Envirosax party begins! Out comes the sack and with a little flick of the wrist and a shwoop! I open each of the five bags and hand them over to the bagger, who stares in utter disbelief at how big and sturdy these bags are. Each one holds the equivalent of two environmentally-unfriendly and wimpy plastic grocery bags.

But have I mentioned how cool they look? I happen to have gotten the Retro Graphic set for Christmas (placed on our family's online giftlist by my very own self) and I love them! I gave my mom the 50s-looking Kitchen Graphic set and those are pretty darn cute, too. Every cashier at our local grocery store loves these bags and stops to write down the web site. And since the sack of bags lives in my car all the time, I am no longer getting to the store and realizing that I left my huge pile of bulky canvas bags at home.

Do not pass Go.

Do not stop to collect $200.

Get thee to the Envirosax web site.

The Superbowl: How to Ruin a Child's Perfectly Good Life

2008-02-03T21:54:00.000-06:00

Did you hear it? All the way at your house?

The wailing. The howling. The sobbing.

Oh, the dramatic near-hyperventilation of a totally wrung-out, exhausted and extremely disappointed 7-year old at the end of the Superbowl.

Not only did his Packers lose, but now the Patriots have let him down as well.

What could be worse?

Not even the glorious big snowflakes that started to fall outside our window during the game, blanketing the whole world with another beautiful layer of snow, could distract him.

But, wow, what a change in his interest level and understanding of the game since last year; remember this post? It's one of my favorites. No, this year he was riveted to the entire game and was extremely psyched to be watching Real Commercials, even cheering for each one in the first quarter.

(And if you are one of those people who has truly been hanging out with me here in Blogland for the past year, thank you. There's surely a special place in heaven for you.)

Snowy Saturday

2008-02-02T12:40:00.000-06:00

We woke up to a lot of snow yesterday! Although every school district around us - and all private schools in the city - were closed, Chicago Public Schools was open. I'm told this is not so much the heartless move it feels like to us as it is consideration for the families who have no other option for their children on a day when school is suddenly closed - someone explained that the city's services would effectively shut down if there were a snow day. I also know it's financial; the district can't afford to pay teachers for a day when they aren't working. Either way, on a personal level it feels ridiculous, so we gave Baxter the gift of an unauthorized Snow Day yesterday.

And yet I had to go to work, slip-sliding my way down unplowed side streets to find parking near the clinic, and then getting soaked up to my knees as I walked down the middle of the street in a car tread since nothing was plowed or shoveled yet. I had stayed home with my sick kids the previous Friday and felt I couldn't cancel on my Friday families again this week, so in I went. About half of them kept their appointments so it was worth the trip in.

But today! Today was my Snow Day! Baxter and I went down to the beach at the end of our block and took in the magnificence of a frozen Lake Michigan. Lyle missed out due to some - shall we say - poor listening during the getting-ready process and we are - shall we say - having to be serious hard asses right now. Anyway, we discovered the upstairs neighbor's son down there at the beach in a great snow igloo he'd just built, so the boys romped in the snow and we all had a fabulous if chilly time: snowshoeing (we all have these and they are awesome!), snowball fights, snow angels, and of course hot cocoa at home afterwards. It was the morning I'd been waiting for all winter. I tucked my little camera into my coat pocket, so here are a few shots to share with you all...

Dreams of Summer

2008-01-31T17:22:00.001-06:00

Sometimes these days I stand by the sliding glass door to my little deck and dream of how it looked last spring and summer. I remember what it's like with all the windows and doors open, with people flip-flopping down to the beach to play in the lake, and the sounds of the gulls flying overhead. With our "murphy table" pulled down and piled high with fresh produce from the Farmer's Market. Dinner out there with friends by candlelight on a hot summer's night.

Which really helps because this is what it looks like right now.
Can you see how hard it's snowing here?

But summer will come again.
I just know it.

Big Boys Do Cry

2008-01-31T07:18:00.000-06:00

Baxter, snuggled next to me in bed: "Mommy, there is one thing [The Teacher] is wrong about."

Me: "What's that, honey?"

Baxter: "She says second graders don't cry anymore. But everyone cries. Even grown-ups."

*****

In the end, no matter how whacked The Teacher is, our lessons seem to be overriding hers. And for that I'll count my blessings today.

Popcorn from God

2008-01-29T19:51:00.000-06:00

So, it's snowing again. The weather's been bizarre lately - up to 50 yesterday and then back down to freezing by this afternoon. Tomorrow's wind chill will be 20 below. Lots of sudden shifts. The snow melts and then starts to fall anew.

I feel like I've been disengaged from the blogging world of late. Yes, I've posted enough but lately I'm often writing on the weekends and then posting the pieces as the week goes on. This allows me to write when I have extra time and get work done and relax more during the busy-ness of a typical week. And so although maybe my readers don't feel like I'm absent during the week, I sort of do, just stopping in to hit "publish" and then enjoying the comment conversations, and not commenting as often on the blogs I love to read all the time.

I am relaxing more. I've rearranged my schedule and routines to make things work better, and the outcome has been very good. I feel more zen mama and less hysterical mama. The trouble for me is, once I relax a bit, I want to stay there. I don't want to get up and make dinner. Or play cars. Or write a report. I just want to be on the couch reading my book. I don't know if this is because my busy times are so ridiculously busy or if this is a challenge I have personally, but it's hard to find the middle ground.

It was my assist day at Lyle's co-op preschool and I was actually counting on him to nap afterwards; this is silly because he so often doesn't anymore when he's home with me, but he's been sick and he looked exhausted, so I had decided that he was going to nap. Which of course led to dreadful disappointment when he didn't. But I insisted on quiet time, during which I lay on my bed reading "Eat Pray Love" with the space heater pointed directly at the bed, while Lyle alternately looked at books next to me, rearranged the settings on my alarm clock, and dug his fingernails into my Chap Stick. I knew I should get up and do something with him because, really, how relaxing was this for me? But I just couldn't. I didn't feel down or blue, just glued to my bed and book. All I could think of was that my stomach was grumbling and maybe it would be fun to make some popcorn for a snack. That was literally my one and only true motivation for getting off of my bed.

When I did get up, it was because there was a knock at our door. And do you know who was at my door? It was our great neighbors from across the hall, a mom and her toddler who come over nearly every day to play, with a bowl full of delicious popcorn to share with us.

And what more do I need, really, on a cold winter's day when I don't feel like doing much of anything?

Materialistic Monday: Eye Concealer

2008-01-28T13:04:00.000-06:00

When Matt and I met, I wore no make-up and the color pink hadn't touched my body in years. I probably didn't shave my legs at that point, either, seeing as how I was in the Women's Studies program at a small liberal arts college and involved in MPIRG on the side. Times have changed - and if you stop and think about it, perhaps we should all be grateful for the changes that have taken place, because imagine if you were frozen in 1993? Shudder.

But let's move on.

I was accompanied to the cosmetics counter of a department store by my mother when it was time to buy some make-up for my wedding in 1996 (I did my own hair and make-up for the wedding because the idea of having someone else do that crap made me gag with the preciousness of it all), and the fruits of that trip were still the only make-up in my possession when Baxter was born in 2000.

And then came the children. Is it about having babies and feeling more in touch with one's feminine side (and exhausted, pathetic, "what about me?" side)? Or maybe having boys and needing to claim one's new role of being the only woman in the house? I don't know, but all I can say is that every time I have another son I buy more pink and a lot more make-up. Thank god there will be no more children or I'd need my own bathroom.

Soon after Baxter was born I walked into a Benefit cosmetics store in Mill Valley, California and never looked back. I go in every few weeks in order to keep my eyebrows from taking over the entire top 2/3 of my face, and always enjoy a little sampling of the goods. I tend to ask for Benefit cosmetics for birthdays, Christmas, et cetera and by now have an impressive supply. (Matt gets lots of credit for freelancing on gifts there.) But for the very first time, about two weeks ago, the fantastically flamboyant young man who waited on me (I love this guy, and not only because he transports me back to many such interactions in San Francisco) pulled out the eye concealer. Now, this shouldn't be a shock, I think that was the week when the wheels were seriously falling off the bus. I'm sure the bags under my eyes had taken on a life of their own.

The product he tried on me had to be purchased immediately, and I have been using it nearly every day because it truly hides the puffy circles I wake up with but doesn't look caked on or fake. It's called Lyin' Eyes and it's the best $13 I have spent in a long while. Now, drama mama commented last week that she uses Boi-ing, which I then discovered I have in my Realness of Concealness set (another treasure to check out if you want to try a few of their best goodies - this is a great one to throw into your handbag). Boi-ing appears to be a heavier-duty concealer that looks like it's meant for the lids as well, and it was great. For me, a solid application of Lyin' Eyes, along with a little magic from my Eye Bright pencil and Lemon Aid on the lid (oh, how I love Lemon Aid!) does the trick. But be advised that you can't go wrong with Benefit. In addition to their web site, their products are available at Macy's and Sephora. If you are lucky enough to live near an actual Benefit store (thank goodness one opened in Chicago the minute we moved here), stop on in - if only for the fun atmosphere and to marvel over the brilliance of their product naming team. And if you live near me, invite me along.

My, how the times have changed.

We are Living in the Future

2008-01-27T21:53:00.000-06:00

The boys did a video chat with my parents in California tonight:

Such mild-mannered urchins I have.

Should I be Concerned?

2008-01-26T10:01:00.001-06:00

Each of the boys spelled a word on the fridge this morning.

Somehow, this is what we ended up with.

Have a Heart

2008-01-24T16:41:00.000-06:00

A couple years ago, my good friend Sahara sat a couple of us down to dinner at Savor in Noe Valley and told us a story. More than a story: she shared an inspiration, an aha! moment, that came to her one day when she drove by a man who was obviously suffering, and wanted to reach out to him in some way. I can't do it justice, but thankfully you can read it in her own words here. Like everyone else who crosses paths with Sahara, we were drawn in by her magically positive energy and enthusiasm.

This inspiration led Sahara to work (with typically Sahara-like dogged determination) for a couple of years to create Heart is Hot, a fantastic new web site where we can all purchase these beautiful glass hearts you see on the left there, to give to anyone who impacts our lives in some way. The recipient of each heart can then go to the web site (inscribed on each heart along with an individual number) and tell the story of where the heart is and how it came to be in his or her possession. The idea is that over time it will be possible to trace the paths of all of these hearts all over the globe ("following your heart"), illustrating the idea that we are all connected through love. You can already visit Sahara's site and see the progress of the hearts that are out there in the world - it's very cool! With Valentine's Day approaching, I felt it was the perfect time to share this with you.

I have one of these hearts in my possession, thanks to Sahara. I know that I will pass it on at some point, maybe soon, but am waiting for the moment of inspiration.

And the day when I am willing to see it go.

Cats and Dogs and Allergens: Oh, My!

2008-01-23T21:20:00.001-06:00

So that Suzuki violin class? The one we won in the auction and went to visit tonight to see what we thought of it? Where Baxter excitedly got measured for his quarter-sized violin?

The one that both kids wanted to participate in, with even Lyle whining for a violin (which he could have soon, if we so choose)? Close to our neighborhood? With the really fantastic teacher?

Yeah, that one.

Well, it's in the teacher's house. A perfectly lovely house, I should note, but one that has cat and dog hair swirling into the air and taking off from the floor every time a child so much as places his violin down on the floor to play the "who can pick up their bow properly the fastest" game. With the actual multiple felines and canines racing through the house at the end of class.

There is no way I can spend all that time in that house every week, this much became clear by the completion of the hour.

Damn these allergies.

Damn them.

Prom Date Challenge

2008-01-22T20:26:00.001-06:00

In 1988, I went to the Junior Prom with this young man. We were friends and I invited him. He learned to drive his dad's old stick shift BMW to drive us there, which was charming.

I was in a Victorian phase - pictures from Victoria magazine were taped all over my bedroom walls - and chose this classic black cotton Laura Ashley frock. My date was too painfully shy to ask me to dance. My official stance was: if I ask you to the prom, you have to ask me to dance. My pride was too great to do both, and I have to say, I stand by that. So I danced with some other guys, but never once my date, despite the fact that I knew he liked me.

This date went on to Cornell and is now a rocket scientist. Seriously. As in developing things that NASA sends into space. He's still a sweet guy and thankfully not quite as shy. He has a lovely wife, and I'll bet money he has danced with her at least once.

The next year I attended Senior Prom. Since the only photos I have of both of us show this dress with a lacy shawl around it and you simply can't get the full effect of its 1980's va-voom, I have been kind enough to provide you with two. (Brave, huh?)

I just have to compare these photos with the one above and wonder what kind of teenage transformation occurred in one short year for me to go from black Laura Ashley to lavender Jessica McClintock lace-and-shimmer, and to have permed my hair. I wish I knew.

My date to this prom was also a very good friend of mine who surprised me greatly by asking me. So surprised was I when he asked me that I believe I said, "Shut up!" and walked away, assuming it was in jest. He was fun to go with, but he hooked up with another girl at the after-prom beach party. 0 for 2 on the prom dates!

This date went on to Yale and then Penn, and is now an ER doctor in rural North Carolina. He has a wonderful wife and three adorable little boys.

Thanks to The Snarky Squab for this Prom Date Challenge! C'mon, ladies, who's next?! I DARE YOU! Link to your photos in the comments section! (Or just laugh at me. Either way, really.)

On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

2008-01-21T19:56:00.000-06:00

In my head, I have been excitedly preparing the first post in a new series for today. "Materialistic Monday" will bring my fair readers some of my very favorite stuff, new and old, each and every Monday. I'm going to start out by sharing my super-amazing new eye concealer, because what it does for me - for which I shall kiss it every morning - is to conceal those tired circles under my eyes quite perfectly! I mean, really, who doesn't want to read about that??

But then it hit me: today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I simply cannot write about eye concealer, for God's sake, on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Bad enough that I am doing the opposite of commemorating it by going to work - I cannot make things worse by using this space to talk about cosmetics. You'll have to wait another week for that.

So here's what I want to say to you all, kind and thoughtful Wonderwheel readers near and far:

On this day, I am going to think about how I am using my time in this world.

It is imperative that I see the people around me, and do what I can to make the world safer and more comfortable for everyone, not just my little family, starting within my own community and moving beyond it.

I need to continue to serve the families I work with to the fullest. I need to continue to reach out to those less fortunate than me, and hug the panhandlers in the grocery store parking lot, even when I don't know if their problems are as they describe. And I need to do more. A lot more.

I refuse to lead a small life. I want my life to be big, and full, and exciting. I will continue to seek out new experiences and learn new things, and then I will share all of that with whomever will listen. And a few who won't. In light of that, I am going to share a quote that I've kept posted over my desk for years. It's Nelson Mandela's inaugural speech from 1994:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you.

We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not in just some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Nelson Mandela, let your own light shine today and every day.

And may we all be liberated from our fears.

Making Hot Cocoa in Long Underwear

2008-01-20T16:25:00.000-06:00

Winter doesn't get much cuter.

They'll Have to Carry Me Down the Aisle in a Coffin

2008-01-19T21:54:00.000-06:00

Baxter, Lyle and I were in the boys' room one recent morning, getting them dressed for school.

I can't remember how the topic came around to marriage, but I jokingly asked Lyle who he thinks he might marry someday. He didn't know how to answer this ridiculous question so instead focused on the fact that it would mean he could "be a fiance", an idea with which he is hilariously obsessed.

I asked Baxter if he remembered who he wanted to marry at age 3. He remembered, if only because we love the story so much. "You?" he asked, laughing. "Yes, me! And you used to cry all the time about the fact that I was already married!" He cracked up at this. (It really was funny: oh, the dramatic sobs at the dinner table!)

Lyle laughed, too. "I can't marry Mommy!" he joked.

"No, you can't, Lyle!" squealed Baxter. "And neither could I!"

"And anyway," he continued sagely, turning towards me, "what I didn't even know then is that you'll already be DEAD when I'm getting married!"

God, how I used to love that kid.

A Musical Interlude

2008-01-19T12:51:00.003-06:00

We seem to have entered a musical period around here. It started fairly innocently, when Matt and I decided, on a lark, to bid on a set of two introductory violin lessons during the nursery school's online fund-raising auction.

I played violin and viola for a number of years, as I alluded to once before. I enjoyed playing, and although I wasn't particularly stellar at it, I was decent enough to be part of a youth orchestra and a string quartet - which I especially loved, much in the way that I later preferred singing in a choir to performing solo. (Everyone needs a viola player and an alto!) In fact, now that I've been focused on such things in recent weeks, I have been surprised to realize how much music was a part of my life growing up, in a way it surely is not anymore. I eventually left string instruments behind in favor of choirs and theater productions, which were the highlights of my extra-curricular life for many years.

Perhaps if I'd started learning the violin at a younger age I would have been better at it and stuck with it longer. Probably not. But, I have talked a lot to Baxter over the years about starting an instrument. He's always been interested, but I haven't felt he could sit still long enough until pretty recently. When I saw this auction item, I thought it might be a good way to give it a try. The instructor is in the neighborhood and sounds great. He teaches the Suzuki method, which is how I learned and what I would prefer for my kids.

Now that we are the lucky winners of those Suzuki violin classes I am starting to realize what we're getting into. This isn't really just two "try it out" lessons - there are the weekly individual lessons, yes, but also every-other-week group lessons. There's the measurement and ordering of the correct rental violin, and perhaps the ordering of a rental for me as well, since it's ideal for a student to have an adult to imitate (do I still have any skills left to imitate?!). I have discovered that Shar Music, the company whose catalog I pored over in the '80s, picking out new strings and a comfortable shoulder rest, now has a website from which I can order my son's copy of Suzuki violin book 1 and the accompanying CD. It's all rushing back to me.

When I mentioned to the instructor that I sort of wanted to make sure that Baxter liked it before jumping in, I got a very kind and sensible email response about the fact that the responsibility to start and keep playing an instrument at this age has a lot to do with parental motivation and coaching kids through the hard moments. He explained that he would coach me along the way about how to teach Baxter in small, doable steps while keeping it really fun for him.

So, although this is going to cause some - er - interesting scheduling issues for us in addition to daily practice, we're going to jump in and see what happens. We are committed to working on it through June. (Of course, if it doesn't seem like a good fit after our two "free" (i.e., paid for) sessions I have no qualms about saying "sayonara", but if Baxter's interest wanes come mid-March we'll see it through.)

Oh, and thanks to a positive reference to the Music Together program on the Suzuki instructor's website and my recent fond recollection of what a wonderful program it was when I was writing this post, I signed Lyle up for Saturday morning Music Together classes as well. He's not doing any other classes right now and I wanted him to have something special just for him, especially with his big brother starting all these music classes. This seemed like a great choice and he's loving it (and so am I!).

All of a sudden, it appears that - at least for the next 6 months - my life is going to revolve around music learning all over again. I'm enjoying it immensely.

Teacher Had a Big Ole 'But'

2008-01-17T19:45:00.000-06:00

Things have been altogether too quiet on The Teacher front. Oh, you remember her, don't you, from previous scenes such as "Totally Freaking Me Out", "Totally Pissing Me Off", and - a favorite of Wonderwheel readers everywhere - "Totally Forgetting Baxter's Birthday Party"?

Yes, that one.

Well, I've got another good one for you today. Buckle your seat belts...

It's pick-up time. The Teacher asks, "Which way are you guys walking?"

Confused, I point to the east where my car is parked.

"Okay, you boys run ahead," she says to Baxter and his friend, Carpool Buddy, essentially sending them unsupervised into a big crowd that is heading towards a busy parking lot exit.

Then she begins very seriously with, "Most of the other kids..." No, she decides this is not how to start, so we pretend she didn't say that. She starts again. "Baxter is a VERY sweet and good student... " and at this point she grabs my arm - "now, don't think there's going to be a 'but' here, because there isn't! There's no 'but' in this sentence! I promise!"

Now I'm really confused. I was quite positive that I heard a 'but' coming and was very, very interested to hear what it would be this time. Because if there's no 'but', what could possibly come next? "...and so I've nominated him for a very special award that only goes to the sweet and smart kids and I didn't want him to know about it"? That was all I could come up with in the split second before she opened that truly amazing mouth of hers again.

So she goes on. And you won't even believe what she said.

"He is a very sweet and good student...BUT..."

And then she says lightly, as if surprised, "Oh, well, I guess there was a 'but' in that sentence, after all!"

Oh. my. God.

What. a. nut.

(And, I'd just like to add for your continued amazement that the big ole "but" was because today when she asked him not to read during writing time - he was finished with his writing work - he cried, and she didn't know why. And apparently he did this once before, but it was a long time ago. And so she wanted us to work "as a team" to get to the bottom of this. Which was not difficult because he immediately 'fessed up to me that he was really embarrassed that he was called out for doing something he shouldn't be doing and didn't realize it wasn't okay. Personally, I'd reserve that kind of admonishment for, I don't know, breaking classroom crayons when bored, rather than reading a book at one's literacy magnet school. Maybe that's just me.)

Panhandlers and Parking Lots

2008-01-15T21:37:00.001-06:00

"Hey, why didn't you guys give that man money just now?" came the accusing voice from the back seat. "He needed money for food!"

My immediate internal reaction was to recoil in shock: What man? Was there a man panhandling who did not even register with me? Did I just look right through someone? This horrified me until I looked behind us as we drove on and realized that the man Baxter saw was alongside Matt's window and I had been looking through mine. Phew.

Nonetheless, this was difficult to explain to a 7-year old. We tried to talk about how - rather than handing out money to all of the individuals we pass - we give money to social service organizations that provide food, shelter, and other assistance to people in that man's position, and also reminded Baxter of the food drives, the mitten trees, and the social justice activities that we participate in through church.

"So...why didn't you give that man that advice? Why didn't you stop and tell him to go to one of those places?" he demanded further.

This was more difficult to answer.

*********

She was standing in the dark parking lot when I left the grocery store last night. I didn't see her until she stepped forward, moving towards me and talking softly but urgently to me.

"Please, miss, can you help me?" her eyes were filled with tears. She was embarrassed. "Don't be afraid of me. Now, my name is Cindy, so if anything happens you know my name. I'm not going to do anything wrong or hurt you. I am a single mother of two children and I need some food for my girls. Last time I tried to steal some in there and they caught me. This time I want to do right. I don't want to steal food, but we need something to eat." She repeated her name to me as if handing me the proof of her legitimacy. And maybe she was.

I looked at her. It was unclear whether she had just moments before been kicked out for shoplifting or if this had happened another night. Or ever. "If you go in there tonight, will they let you buy food?" She nodded. I considered the situation. "Okay."

Extremely protective of my belongings, I carefully extracted the cash I had just gotten at the grocery store and handed it to her without ever removing my wallet or any other contents of my hand bag. She asked if she could give me a hug, and I said "Yes", knowing full well that this would be the moment the bag could be wrenched from my grasp for good and the gig would be up. But it wasn't. We hugged tightly and I watched her walk into the grocery store, wondering what she would buy with the money I'd just given her.

Would it truly be food for herself and two children? Would my cash be turned into something else, some substance that might drown her sorrows for another night? Or perhaps she walked into the store and exited out another door with another set of plans in mind altogether.

I'm not ignorant in my compassion. I do spend a lot of my time and we give as much as we can afford to others, but I try to be careful about how I do it. I know I could have accompanied this crying woman into the store and made sure she bought food with the money, but I trusted her somehow and, frankly, that idea felt like adding insult to injury.

This act tonight was not cautious. It was a reckless act. I may well have been conned. But I rely on my intuition and something told me that Cindy - or whomever she was - deserved whatever I could do for her. I wished I could've done more in that moment, but a small act of compassion and a big hug were the best I had to offer.

I did it for her, for whatever was going so wrong in her life, and I did it for her kids - real or fictitious.

And I did it for mine.

Channeling my Inner Oprah

2008-01-15T13:16:00.000-06:00

I am not a lemming. I am not a lemming.

I repeated this mantra to myself as I burned a few hundred calories on the eliptical machine, watching Oprah this morning.

I don't watch TV unless I'm at the gym. Ever. Honestly. It doesn't occur to me to turn it on, perhaps because I have such limited down time and much prefer to read novels or surf the world over to read all of your blogs. So when I discovered this morning that going to the gym during Lyle's nursery school hours meant that Oprah was on instead of the local morning news shows - with their dreadful closed captioning and non-stop stories about murder - I was secretly thrilled. I mean, pop culture - in my very own world!

I don't actually mind Oprah as a person - it's just the Americanized branding of Oprah that bothers me. It's the way her picture is on her own magazine every month (don't even get Matt started on that one), the fact that millions of women run out to buy the books she recommends, and everything she looks at for more than 10 seconds turns to gold. Can we not think for ourselves, sisters? It's also extraordinarily irritating to me to see all the middle-aged women in her audience shrieking with laughter when she says something really unworthy of that much hoopla. So even though I actually do respect what she's done in a lot of ways and also respect her opinions, I don't seek out that show. And yet finding it on at the gym was a guilty pleasure, I guess because it seems so normal, a word that doesn't often apply to my life.

But here's the scary part: I think I've hit The Demographic. I mean, it was clear to me that Oprah is targeted at me now. No, I didn't shriek with laughter when she said something mildly witty to a guest, but I found that all of the business people she had on her show today were associated with businesses I love, such as Williams-Sonoma and The Container Store (I think my heart rate immediately went up an extra 10 bpm when they started showing those cute boxes). And some guy from 3M invented some pretty awesome highlighters with built-in post-it flags (definitely his 2 minutes of fame!) that Oprah just looooves - and you know what? So would I. (You know me and office supplies, though.)

So now I know: I am not a lemming. I am a middle-aged woman. Oprah is all about me.

All Mondays are Not Created Equal

2008-01-14T10:30:00.000-06:00

It was a rough Monday morning at Chez Wonderwheel.

There were two additional stressors that I may have neglected to mention in Friday night's post:

1) Matt has to work in NYC Monday through Thursday this week, leaving today before any of us were awake; and

2) Everyone and his mother's brother's uncle has decided they NEED to have a team meeting about their child immediately. Which I need to attend, and which occur in the evenings, whether my husband is out of town or not. I have limited myself to one of these a week to save my sanity, but unfortunately most weeks I have other commitments in the evenings over the next 4-6 weeks. There is one week coming up this month when I have to be out of the house in the evening four nights in a row. Y.U.C.K.

And so that brings us to this morning.

Lyle is old enough - and wise enough - now to become upset when I say that Daddy's in New York and Mommy will be working late, past bedtime, and will give him a kiss when I get home - beloved or not, 13 hours is a long time to be with the babysitter. (It's true: just ask our checking account!)

There is no worse way to leave the house on a Monday morning than with the echoes of your 3-year old's wails resounding in your head.

Especially when you know that he has every right to be upset.

Life After Vacation

2008-01-12T11:18:00.001-06:00

It's a common question after a long break: "How's everyone adjusting to getting back into the routine?" For some of my family members, this has been easy to answer.

"Lyle was beyond thrilled to see his babysitter again, and he was happy to get back to nursery school, too."

"Baxter seemed to jump right back in and was glad to see his friends."

"Matt was counting the minutes until he could go back to work and put an end to the non-stop activity and socializing. I've never seen someone so happy to go back to work!"

But I've been avoiding answering this question for myself this week. That's mostly because I don't want to scream loudly at the friendly people who are making small talk with me.

I loved seeing all the kids I work with, and my colleagues. I enjoyed talking to the families about how the break went for their kids and hearing both the successes and the horror stories. All of that was great and very satisfying. I missed those parts of my work when I was away.

But it's the pace. The pace, and the amount of work I need to do daily to stay afloat. And the fatigue, especially on the days I've been to the gym before work. Those things, and running in so many directions every day. By last night I was sitting at my desk in the darkening clinic, unable to get myself motivated to pack up, clean up the toys in the clinic, and drive home to spend the evening with my sweet but loud and boisterous boys, only to work at my desk after they go to bed and then go back and work all day again today.

In the end, I didn't go back in today, because I'm not feeling well this morning. I don't know if I'm coming down with something or if this is just complete and utter exhaustion, but I am out of energy and feeling lousy.

Here's what I was contemplating on my drive home last night: would it be better to a) take the night off and read a great book lying on the couch by the fireplace? or b) get the work done that needs doing today so that it doesn't keep piling up on me, causing total overwhelm in another day or two? As enticing as choice (a) was, I chose (b); I am too wary of the overwhelm because it leads to such major procrastination and more stress in the end. But then, when do I get a break? I'm not looking for a long break, just an evening to myself. On Saturday, when I'm not feeling well and stuck here in bed? That's not quite it, either.

So what do you do? Do you just put it all aside so that you get some rest, even knowing that it'll make tomorrow worse for you? Or do you keep on truckin', opting for the steady sound of check-marks on your to do list?

Please, I'll take any and all insights.

The More People He Meets

2008-01-10T21:23:00.000-06:00

My son Baxter has a rather unique personality. He is what his father and I think of as uber-social, and has been since birth. Baxter was the 18-month old who walked into day care with a big grin and greeted each other toddler by name and with a hug (which usually knocked them to the floor, one by one - there were those sensory issues coming into play!). He was the preschooler who didn't just start playing in the sandbox at the park, he first went from unfamiliar child to unfamiliar child, greeting them with a big smile and a hello. My friends used to refer to him as "Mayor of the Playground".

Recently, Matt and I had an odd realization: it occurred to us that we couldn't think of a single person Baxter had ever disliked. No complaint about another child at school, no adult who wasn't his cup of tea. In his book, it seemed, everyone was fantastic. In fact, to this day if you ask him how his day was, he invariably answers, "GREAT!" each time with completely earnest enthusiasm. My father told me last year that he loved this quality in Baxter so much he had started responding that way himself at work just to see how other people reacted. My mother said recently that Baxter's attitude towards life is "refreshing". I agree.

While I was making Christmas cookies with Baxter a few weeks ago, we had a lovely conversation, as we often do when we're together. I brought up this question of whether he'd ever met someone he didn't like. He thought about it, and agreed that we were right - he had not. "In fact," he said, "the more people I meet, the more people I like!" This was followed by, "Hey, that should be my motto!" Delighted, I agreed. He was given the t-shirt shown in the photo above by my highly amused cousin in San Francisco, complete with his new motto printed on the front.

Last week we visited a childhood friend of mine who lives in Santa Cruz. Soon after we adults had settled ourselves at the beach side cafe with our coffee cups and gigantic muffins, Baxter headed into the sand with a Frisbee. About five minutes later, my friend asked, "So, what's Baxter like?" I pointed over beyond the volleyball nets - "Well, did you read his t-shirt?" He said that he had, grinning. "And do you see him over there?" My friend turned and realized that Baxter had singlehandedly organized an impromptu game of Frisbee on the beach with a mixed group of kids and adults, within five minutes. He was happily taking pointers from someone's dad about his throw. A while later the game switched to football and he was tackling unfamiliar children in the sand, children he would've knocked over 6 years ago had they been in day care together.

Thus it came as some surprise tonight at dinner when we were looking at Lyle's map place mat and I idly asked, "Where do you boys think you'll live someday?" (secretly hoping the answer would be "next door"). Baxter's voice shook a bit with emotion as he replied, "Anywhere, as long as Adam P. doesn't live there!"

Whoa.

It all spilled out. Adam P. (one must use last name initials at all times in second grade!) has been calling him names (primarily "Dexter", which is just kind of lame, if you ask me) and generally being a little stinkpot to Baxter. Bax sat on my lap, curled up with long thin limbs that were unsure of where they fit anymore, and told us all about it. I think we handled it well enough, talking a lot about how he felt, why Adam P. might be doing that, and what Baxter does about it. A discussion about the power of ignoring ensued, and after a while he brightened up and it was clear that this load he'd been carrying had been lifted from his sturdy 7-year old shoulders. He even laughed when Lyle then climbed on my lap, saying, "And Mommy? The boys at preschool are saying rude things to me, too!" and then made up all kinds of crazy things that have definitely never happened. All for a little cuddle and attention. So we had a big family love-in on the couch for a while and then went on with our evening.

It had to happen sometime, didn't it? I mean, someone had to get his attention with nasty behavior enough times to bring him to the point of dislike. It sounded like it had been going on for months, so I think he's been quite tolerant about it for a while now.

In the end, I know that even the Mayor of the Playground is going to have a few enemies. But I have a feeling that's not going to slow him down for long. I'm pretty sure of it.

What Goes Around

2008-01-09T20:33:00.001-06:00

This morning I clicked over to read Susan Etlinger's latest post on The Family Room blog. Among her other treasures of the day were a couple of new blog recommendations for her readers. Both are excellent. One of these, in fact, was a blog I just discovered myself this week, that of my friend Emily in Texas. Aptly titled A Life Less Ordinary, Emily writes about life with her three fantastic little boys, who are perfectly extraordinary.

Finding Emily's blog was a gift this week. We were friends back in San Francisco, brought together by Baxter and her oldest son, TH, who were absolutely the best of friends in preschool. Our families began to meet up for playdates, and Emily and I always seemed to manage dinners out on each other's wedding anniversaries (without our spouses). I'm still not sure how it worked out that way, but it did. That is, until they moved to Texas and we left for Chicago in the summer of '06. With work and distance and all these boys, Emily and I have only stayed in touch sporadically, so you can imagine my joy when I was able to sit down, read her posts and look at her photos - and TH's incredible artwork!! - on her blog all at once.

Thus, I was thrilled to see that Susan had linked to Emily today. Coincidentally enough, Emily had just posted to her own readers that they should come on over and check out The Wonderwheel, writing awfully sweet and humbling things about this blog and my work. (Aww, shucks.)

I can't let this circle of blog love stop here. All day I was thinking, "I need to bring this full circle and link back to Susan now!" But here's the thing. All I could think of was how many of you are out there, blogging about your very special kids. Yes, I know, all kids are special (yadda, yadda, yadda), and I enjoy reading some blogs that are written by parents of typically-developing kids too, but those of you who are writing so beautifully about the winding path you walk with your extraordinary kids, you all deserve a really huge thank you from me.

So here we go:

You and you and also you and you..and you and of course you, you, and you - and also you, you, and you...and all the rest of you out there whom I haven't yet read or haven't visited recently enough because eventually a girl's gotta sleep...

Thank you for letting me in and not making me feel like an impostor for reading and commenting on your blogs. Thank you for reading and being a part of my life through my own blog. Thank you for helping me to bridge - just a little bit - the wide gap between parents with typically-developing kids and those who are on their own unique path through life. Thank you for your insights into parenting, which not only allow me to be a better parent myself but have dramatically changed the way I work with families.

Thank you, Susan, and thank you, Emily.

Thank you.

All of you.

True Confessions of a Late-Night Reader

2008-01-06T22:00:00.001-06:00

I'm having, you know, just a wee bit of difficulty keeping to my New Year's resolution to get more sleep. You can call it lack of will-power - or, perhaps, ambivalence - but I am blaming it on the really, really good books I've been reading lately.

You see, for Christmas I received Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs - I mean, seriously, folks, this book is uniquely compelling. "Will this kid actually survive his own childhood? Is it possible for so many people, all these families, to be this dysfunctional? Turn the page to find out, because it is about to get worse!" I loved reading about this family from the perspective of the other sibling - his older brother is John Elder Robison who wrote the wonderful Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's which I reviewed here last fall. Very talented brothers, those two. I'm not sure if Running with Scissors ended up more heavily weighted on the hilarious side or the heartbreaking side (probably the latter), but it was well-written and kept me reading long past my new-and-improved bedtime, whatever that's supposed to be. (Hmm, maybe that's my problem!) The day I finished this book I stopped at Black Oak Books in San Francisco and picked up another of his books.

But then, the next one I read (also a Christmas gift) was The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Holy moly, have you read this book? If not, go out and pick up a copy - you won't be sorry. Amazing story, beautiful writing. What a tale. I learned more about Afghanistan from that book (and A Thousand Splendid Suns, which I read recently by the same author - also an excellent read) than from any other source. I am now extremely frightened by photos of the Taliban, which is an appropriate response, let me tell you. When I got to the last quarter of The Kite Runner, I couldn't put it down. I ended up reading it well past 1:00 AM on Saturday morning to finish it. I cannot remember the last time that I read the conclusion of a book sitting up in my bed in the middle of the night, hand half over my exhausted eyes out of fear for the protagonist. This, like Running with Scissors in its own completely different way, was a story of survival and redemption.

Page-turners, I tell you. They'll keep you up past your bedtime. And that's a very, very good thing.

****

And now it's time for an Internet vote! Which of these books on my nightstand shall be next? Submit your vote now (quick!)

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

or

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For by Henry David Thoreau

A Question of Semantics

2008-01-04T22:11:00.000-06:00

Lyle's a pretty creative little guy. As many of you know, he has been obsessed with the movie Cars for, oh, about 6 or 7 ~~years~~ months now. Not as long as Baxter's dinosaur phase, but a sizable chunk of time nonetheless.

And so by now, he has gotten to the point where he talks about the movie but inserts random tidbits about his daily life into the scenes, just to mix things up a little. So you might hear him walking down the hallway and saying something like, "Remember, Baxter, when Tow Mater said to Lightning McQueen, 'You better brush your teeth now" and Lightning McQueen had a biiiig fit and said, 'No, I can't! My nose is running!!!'?"

This drives Baxter completely batty.

Because, well, THAT WAS NOT IN THE MOVIE! And when you are a 7-year old who is into THE FACTS, nothing's worse than the idea that this race car said his nose was running. I mean, really, where to begin? With his lack of a nose, or the fact that this scene did not actually take place?

He goes cuckoo.

A few nights ago at my parents' dinner table, Lyle got rolling. Personally, I am delighted by the randomness of these moments and I egg the boy on. So he was going on about how Doc said, "Don't eat Nana and Papa's Christmas tree, Fillmore...!" and I was, of course, encouraging this, when Baxter sighed, took a noisy breath, and leaned across me so that he could see the perpetrator's face from around the candles.

"Wait, Bax," I cautioned, holding him back. "Are you about to correct him on this? Because I want you to allow him to have an imagination, please."

Baxter considered this question for a long moment and then looked at me seriously.

"I'm not going to correct him, Mommy. I'm just going to teach him."

Ah. Of course.

The Other Shoe

2008-01-02T10:53:00.000-06:00

We so clearly remember how we felt when Baxter was three, Matt and I. So many things – parenting things – became hugely easier for us around that time. It’s true, I’ve written here before about the sea change in emotional energy in parenting a three- or four-year old. However, to us, having a three-year old meant a greater sense of equilibrium in other ways: Baxter was sleeping well (and therefore we were better rested), he was in preschool part of the time (oh happy days!), was potty-trained, and he had real friendships that we enjoyed watching blossom. We discovered that he was a cinch to travel with, and far more flexible than we’d previously known him to be. I think that we remember these things so clearly because they were our arguments at the time against having another child.

A friend once told me, “It’s much easier to have another child before you’re out of the fog. You might as well stay in the fog until you’re done having kids, because going back into the fog once you’ve been out of it is very hard.” She was right.

I have never envied the early years for parents with kids closer together than ours, but I always saw how much easier things got for them around the time the younger child was 18-24 months old and the siblings played together much of the time. Those parents often seem to be in the fog for a few solid years and then emerge victorious, cheerful, and relieved to be sleeping again, feeling human. Oh, and typically with kids who entertain each other for long stretches of time!

As you know, in the end we did finally make the conscious but difficult decision to step back into the fog, and once Lyle was born we never regretted it. It may be overly obvious, but we can’t imagine our family without him.

On this vacation – which I am now ready to call a vacation because that’s what it has actually felt like – we are suddenly aware once again of being out of the fog. Lo and behold, we have a three-year old who is a cinch to travel with, is potty-trained, and is more flexible. He’ll sleep squished next to his brother on the floor in sleeping bags one night and then in a queen sized bed with him the next. He can miss his nap when visiting friends and not melt down. The contrast between this trip and the same one at this time last year – which midway through we realized had to be renamed immediately as a trip (a time to see loved ones) rather than a vacation – is stunning.

For days, I have silently waited for the other shoe to drop. The night I had a very sore throat last week I was sure I was getting Matt’s strep infection of two weeks ago. When my stomach was off, I had to be getting Baxter’s stomach bug. But no. Granted, Baxter did get sick the day before we were to leave and we had to put our trip off by a day. But, really, in the scheme of things (read: last year), that was small potatoes. Since we’ve been here, we have all stayed healthy, well-enough-rested, and cheerful. The boys’ flexibility has astounded me. We’ve been able to squeeze in every little visit with friends and family that we’d hoped for, because not only were we doing fine, so was everyone else. (I guess everyone’s kids are growing up!) Matt and I have been able to stay in San Francisco for two extra nights while the boys are partying with my parents down in Pacific Grove. We are relaxed and rested, and have had ample time with friends and each other. Oh, and to lie on the couch under warm blankets and read new books!

There are moments when I’m nostalgic for the days when we had a baby or toddler around the house, but the older the boys get, the fewer and farther between those nostalgic moments become.

If this is the beginning of the next stage, bring it on!

Let's Sleep Away the New Year!

2008-01-01T22:20:00.000-06:00

Do you want to know one of the best things about this vacation?

(I thought so.)

I have been reintroduced to the concept of sleep. Actual sleep! Okay, so my eyes still pop open at 6 am every day with or without the kids, but the difference is, I have been going to bed at a decent hour! Like 10 pm! None of this late-to-bed and then up-at-the-crack-of-dawn crap.

It being the time of year for such things, you might think you feel a resolution coming on.

But instead of making a formal declaration, I think I'll just head off to bed.

Sunny Morning at Baker Beach

2007-12-31T22:00:00.000-06:00

See the full set here.

From Where I Sit

2007-12-30T10:31:00.000-06:00

From where I sit in the early morning, huddled under an aging green fleece blanket by the large, drafty, front window of my friend’s apartment on 21st Avenue, I hear the gulls screeching their way down Judah. They seem to follow the streetcar out to the Pacific like so many screaming, swirling children. If I glance over my shoulder, I take in a long line of row houses in various shades of yellow, pink, blue, and beige. Thick coils of unattractive power lines criss-cross from one enormous street light to the other and then dart over to the houses themselves, bringing the power required to light the Christmas trees and yellowish front porch lights, clouded with spider webs. There is no grass in this view, only city sidewalks. The more attractive homes boast shrubbery or unusual small trees out front. There are no large, leafy deciduous trees, other than what can be seen of the beautiful foliage in Golden Gate Park, peeking over the rooftops, located just two blocks south.

I distinctly remember seeing this neighborhood for the first time when Matt and I moved to San Francisco in 1997; I found it aesthetically displeasing to say the least. A friend of mine likened it to some strange world in a Dr. Seuss book – and she had spent her life in Berkeley, just across the Bay. Ironically named the Sunset neighborhood - being the foggiest piece of land of San Francisco - it did boast more affordable rentals, proximity to the park, and an impressive business district around 9th Avenue and Irving Street filled with fantastic cuisine, excellent coffee, and wonderful independent shops. So when Baxter was a little over a year old and we realized that raising a child in Marin County (where I was working) did not suit us, we found a relatively (for San Francisco) affordable 2-bedroom here in the Sunset. And this is the neighborhood we happily called home until moving to Chicago eighteen months ago.

This window I sit by, it could easily be overlooking the last street we lived on in this neighborhood, which is 5 blocks directly east. It’s even located in the same spot on the west side of the street. We have had the mind-blowing good fortune of staying here – rather than a hotel - while my friend is on a ski trip with her husband; they are allowing us to use their flat as a home base for the San Francisco portion of our California vacation.

And so we walk by the school where Baxter went to kindergarten on our way to a favorite restaurant or to visit friends who still live just a couple of blocks away. Matt sees the school’s garden, completed, and marvels over all that has been created around some large rocks he once volunteered to haul over to that part of the playground, where visionaries planned a garden that didn’t yet exist. Until now.

With the kids back down at my parents’ for a couple of days without us, Matt and I walk down Irving St. and express delight over tiny shops that are somehow still in business, and shock over old favorites that no longer exist. Quietly, we take in new awnings and business logos. We eat dinner in a fabulous new restaurant that just months ago was a favorite cafe, sitting now at a table that has a familiar view of the park but has been completely transformed. Looking out at the same intersection of 9th and Lincoln while eating beautifully prepared fresh fish instead of a scone and a latte.

And so, as I sit under this green blanket and listen to the familiar N-Judah roar by, seagulls screeching in its wake, I am acutely aware of what San Francisco is to me now. It’s a beautiful city full of friends, family, and memories. But also a place where I now have an almost constant inner struggle: how can I take in all that is new - and simultaneously appreciate all that is old?

If I were a person who was purely fueled by nostalgia, I would have refused to go into that fish restaurant last night; there was a part of me that resented the café for closing down, for not warning me in Chicago that this was going to happen, and somehow blamed the restaurant for my loss. It’s easy to resent the sense of surprise we feel about the changes that occur in a beloved city that we only visit once or twice a year. But we’d heard that it’s a great new restaurant – friends in the neighborhood are excited about it – and when I stopped to think about it, I realized that at the end of the day, I would prefer to grow and change right along with San Francisco.

Even from afar.

Foggy Morning in San Francisco

2007-12-29T10:00:00.000-06:00

See the full set here.

We Made it! (Or: Guess Who Got a New Camera?!)

2007-12-25T18:32:00.000-06:00

We're here! We're all healthy, the 4-hour flight was unbelievably easy with the kids, and it's a sunny and 60 degrees here. It was a rocky night's sleep due to jet lag and excitement, but both boys have been napping for over two hours this afternoon, so tonight ought to be much better.

Matt surprised me with a Nikon digital SLR and then surprised me further by telling me that it was not my Christmas gift (huh?) - turns out, he sold an old Mac iBook we don't use anymore and was able to buy a wonderful camera for us with the proceeds. (Thank you, Mac products, for retaining your value.) So here are our first shots with the new camera - the blog photos will be much prettier from here on out! (Oh, and I did bring my laptop - Matt's work laptop hard drive melted down just before our trip.)

Merry Christmas, everyone!

We're Outta Here!

2007-12-23T18:45:00.001-06:00

Okay, now I think we're leaving soon. Tomorrow morning at 5:30 am, in fact.

Wish us luck!

Merry Christmas, everyone.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas...

2007-12-22T12:48:00.000-06:00

What I anticipated today to be like:

Matt would take the boys out to the suburbs to visit with his grandmother in the nursing home. They would then have lunch with Matt's good childhood friend and his family, who are in town for Christmas from Brooklyn. My guys would return around 2 or 3 pm. I, back at home, would have completed some work at my desk and gotten the bulk of the packing completed in delicious solitude.

What today has been like:

I have washed load after load of laundry and cleaned the food out of the fridge, all the while trying to appease the very loud and insistent three-year old who is following me around, talking non-stop. "One...two...three...five...six..." he counts, choosing some of the 30-some Christmas cards lining the chair rail in the hallway. "Twelve! Just twelve days till Cissmas!" he shrieks. In the other room, I hear the sounds of my 7-year old, retching yet again, with my husband calling for another cool washcloth to clean him up.

Not a single item has been packed.

If we can't leave early tomorrow morning it won't be the end of the world, I'm sure. If we don't get to California by Cissmas (where Santa has already sent all of his gifts), we're screwed.

Baxter will be okay by morning, right? And no one else will get sick? Promise me.

VACATION TIME!

2007-12-21T19:00:00.002-06:00

Do you hear the whoops and hollers coming from the snowy, cold flatlands of Chicago?

That would be us.

Because it's VACATION!! You hear?! Christmas. Vacation.

Today I worked my arse off for hours getting paperwork done at the clinic so that I can truly leave work behind for two weeks - did you hear that? Me! Not working for two weeks!

We were invited to the home of neighbors-who-are-becoming-friends for dinner tonight (they are conveniently located across the hall) and friends-who-happen-to-be-neighbors tomorrow night (located across the alley). There is so much that is great about this, not the least of which is not having to cook on these nights before our big trip. But do you know what I decided might possibly be the actual best part about these dinners? The fact that I can wear YOGA PANTS to both of these gatherings. Ahhhh, the comfort of yoga pants and a big warm sweater in wintertime.

I am so happy right now.

(Can you tell that I already had some celebratory wine? And we haven't even gone a-visitin' yet!)

This Sunday we'll be taking off for California at 7:30 am and we'll be in sunny, 60 degree weather by 10 am Pacific Time. We'll stay with my parents in Pacific Grove (about 2.5 hours south of San Francisco) at the beginning and end of our 10-day stay; we were offered lodging at my friend's apartment in our old neighborhood in San Francisco for a few days in the middle. Matt and I are filled with nostalgia as we plan a few days with the kids back in our old stomping ground. We are completely booked with time to be spent with old friends - these visits are well-organized around meals at our favorite restaurants. Then my parents will take the boys back down to Pacific Grove for two nights, and Matt and I will spend that time on our own in the beautiful city where we lived together for almost 10 years. We can hardly believe our luck.

At the moment we're consumed with which favorite French restaurant we should call for New Year's Eve reservations.

So I'll be trying to hide my shiny new Chicago accent (that's another post!), "brushing the sauerkraut out of [my] hair" as Matt hilariously suggested this week, and heading back to California. In an unheard-of nod towards relaxation, I am leaving my laptop at home. If I need to read blogs or post something, I can always use someone else's computer.

I have no idea if you'll hear from me every day or not at all over the next couple of weeks. But wish us luck traveling in the winter and over the holidays with these young boys - and pray for me that it might feel more like a vacation than it did last year.

I really need it.

All Done

2007-12-19T21:53:00.002-06:00

It's over. The Ransom Notes campaign - which last week was still slated to hit three more cities - has been pulled.

Here's the skinny from always-on-it Kristina Chew, PhD over at autismvox. Let her tell the story.

Props to the special needs bloggers. That's all I can say.