Thanksgiving

We had a plan.
(I implore you: click on this plan.)

A snowy morning.

Funny relatives in town.


Kids helping.

More food than 15 people at 3 tables could shake a stick at.


The world's cutest kiddie table.


A Backyardigans break between dinner and dessert.

And a final report: big success!

Naked Pillow Fighting (oh, this one will set Google afire...)

Baxter (excitedly): "Mommy, did you know there's naked pillow fighting on TV tonight?"
Me (in shock): "Bax! Where on earth did you hear that?"
Baxter: "Nowhere. I read it in that paper in your bathroom!"

Doh! Time to stop leaving The Onion lying about.

Guess the Turkey's Here

This is what I found on the floor when I went into the kitchen last night after Matt went to the grocery store.

It's occurring to me that perhaps we're not the most formal family I know.

A Bookish Meme

Nearly two months ago (eek!) Kristen tagged me for a book meme. I usually jump right on board with a good meme, but two things slowed me down this time. First of all, Kristen suggested that this one required "more soul-searching than usual". ("Soul searching"! Oh, the horror! Look: I've already done my time in therapy - no small amount of time, okay? - must I continue to soul search?!). Second of all, my love for reading is nearly as strong as the likelihood that I will forget what I have read within about 48 hours. Seriously.

However, the fact is that I do love to read, and I do so whenever I can. From childhood on (much like my elder son), I have walked out of the library with a huge stack of books only to ask two days later, "When can we go back to the library?" This, according to NPR's All Things Considered, is unusual; below is an excerpt from today's story:

"One thing is certain: Americans—of either gender—are reading fewer books today than in the past. A poll released last month by The Associated Press and Ipsos, a market-research firm, found that the typical American read only four books last year, and one in four adults read no books at all.

A National Endowment for the Arts report found that only 57 percent of Americans had read a book in 2002 - a four percentage-point drop in a decade. Book sales have been flat in recent years and are expected to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

Among avid readers surveyed by the AP, the typical woman read nine books in a year, compared with only five for men. Women read more than men in all categories except for history and biography."

This report reminded me that I am overdue on the book meme, and also left me feeling that those of us who actually are avid readers have a responsibility to promote it. So here goes:

Total Number of Books?

Whether this means total number read or total number in the house matters not. Either way, it's too many to count. Our bookshelves - which are everywhere - are double stacked in many places (both adult and children's literature). I am always reading something, and the pile of books that wait on my nightstand is ever-growing. I try to alternate between fiction and literature that relates to my work (e.g., "Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Aspergers" which I reviewed here), but this is not a strict rule and does not always apply. For instance, right now I am really enjoying a "for fun" novel after so many work-related books.

I have an account at Shelfari, which is really cool and quite addictive! (Let me know if you can't view my shelf without an invitation - I'll invite you.) My colleague and I are also creating a Shelfari account that catalogs all of the professional books we own so that we can share them with the families at the clinic - a lending library of sorts - and some of those are currently mixed in on my personal shelf. It's a work in progress.

Last Book Read?

"Send in the Idiots: Stories from the Other Side of Autism" by Kamran Nazeer. To be honest, I didn't finish it. It wasn't doing it for me. Right now, however, I am thoroughly enjoying Anne Tyler's "Digging to America" and look forward to reading more of it by the fireplace as soon as I am done with this post!

Last Book Bought?

Well, I bought a couple of Thanksgiving books for the kids today but we won't count those. I recently bought the Anne Tyler book I'm reading; also on my nightstand sit "A Thousand Splendid Suns" and "Eat Pray Love", both of which are on loan from friends and unread. I have historically been a strong proponent of the public library, but I find Chicago's online system to be quite backward after the techno-savvy library system in San Francisco, so I don't use it as much as I'd like.

Five Meaningful Books?

I could really let this one drive me nuts. Instead, I'm going to jump in and not over-think it. For once.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Tag 5 Others

I'm not sure who has already done this, but I'll give it a try:

Mike at Cry it Out: Adventures of a Stay-at-Home-Dad
Christopher at Blowing and Drifting
Elise at Snarky Squab
Niksmom at Maternal Instincts
Lori at Spinning Yellow

Happy Reading!

I.O.U.

Realizing that we did not have the $12 cash required to send in to school for Baxter's class picture today, we decided it was time to raid his piggy bank.

Walking into the kitchen with the bank, Matt announced cheerfully, "Baxter, we're going to do a lesson in I.O.U.'s today!"

Baxter joined him at the table and said, "Well, whatever that is, it must be related to vowels!"

Two for Two

If you've been along for the ride here for a while, you are already aware of my penchant for half-assed low-key kids' birthday parties.

Well, this time I wasn't setting up card tables to cover barf stains on the rug, but I did take this fallen cake:

and claim to my child that we made it look this way on purpose to create "Pokemon Valley" (does this exist? NO! did it matter? NO!):

Yes, he fell for it. And, yes, he loved it. (Phew!)

Thankfully, Baxter asked to invite only his best friends. One couldn't make it, which left us with four kids in addition to our boys. Four hilariously precocious and nice kids, I might add. And not only did he want to keep it small, but he was happy with simple. We walked to the local pizza joint and had ourselves some pizza pies.


The kids talked about what books they're reading (one claimed to another: "I'm really not into the medieval stuff right now."), played tic tac toe, told monster jokes, and mugged for Baxter's camera (we gave him our old digital camera for his birthday - he's already taken over 250 pictures!). Lyle was so in awe of the big kids that he sat there silently and listened to them - unbelievable. It was SO EASY. I had grabbed The Onion on my way into the restaurant and I joked with Matt that the party was such a no-brainer that I could've sat there and read it and no one would've noticed.

Of course, I didn't. You knew that, right? Anyway, we then walked back to our house where the kids played a high energy game of tag and won us over further by making it very easy for little Lyle to play.

For the last half hour, we filled them with chocolate cake and hot cocoa, opened gifts, let them tear-ass around the play room for about 15 minutes, and then sent them on their way!

So, for the second time this year we pulled off a small party that involved lots of pizza and cake, no organized games, and no parental involvement in the play room. And made one boy very, very happy.

And PS: I'm going to LOVE age seven.

Fall in Chicago

I frequently drive down this street on my way to Lyle's nursery school; last week, I just had to stop the car in the middle of the street and take a picture of the trees. (Not bad, considering it was taken with my camera phone and through the windshield. Imagine this a whole lot brighter.)

I love autumn.

What Brain Cells?

We - this family that runs 1-2 loads of laundry a day - have been without a washing machine for seven days now. What is more worrisome to me is that it took us a full five days to get organized enough to even stop and look at what the problem might be. Now we have a large box in our front hall containing a replacement door gasket from GE and no immediately visible opportunity to install it, even though we're heading into the weekend.

I am lucky enough to work in a therapy clinic where we have a small washer and dryer (how many of us can say that about our workplaces?), so twice this week I have trooped in and out of my office, hoping not to be spotted by my clients, with baskets of laundry. I've managed to do three loads there total, which has essentially skimmed the overflow off the top of each chock-full hamper and kept everyone in clean skivvies.

At some point this afternoon, while stuffing another load into the washing machine at work, I allowed myself to look at the full picture of this week momentarily: Baxter's birthday, preparing for his party tomorrow, getting the treasurer's report done for the condo meeting, my work day at Lyle's nursery school and the fund-raising that was due this week, the fact that Matt has been out of town on business, all the work I have yet to complete, trying desperately to remember that I need to buy milk on my way home, and yes, hauling the laundry back and forth. Some people call this multitasking, I thought, but to me it's nothing more than leading an extremely fragmented life. And it's definitely not good.

I wrote as much to Kristen in a brief email exchange this afternoon, and she responded by pointing me in the direction of an article in the November issue of Atlantic Monthly which tells us that multi-tasking kills brain cells. While I don't have online access to the full article, I can already tell you that I don't disagree.

4:30 pm found me at the door to the clinic, running back in to pick up the last load of laundry and bring it out to the car, trying to be quick enough that I could make time for a milk stop on my way home. I stood there grumbling to myself about the damnable key that simply was not fitting in the door, and then snapped out of it long enough to recognize that in my distracted state I had chosen the wrong key for the door I wanted to open - for at least the fifth time this week alone.

And all I could think was, She's right. I'm already there.

Kettle? This is the Pot.

Apparently taking on the role of man of the house with Matt out of town, Lyle took one look at his brother - who was swiveled all the way around to talk to me, away from the breakfast table - and admonished, "Baxter! Please! Turn around and focus on your breakfast!"

Amen.

Lyleisms

6:30 am, Baxter's birthday, my bedside

Lyle: Mommy, afore we go open Baxter's presents [note the use of "we"], I need you to come downstairs to find Chick Hicks with me!

Me: Okay, Lyle. I just need to use the bathroom first, and then I'll go downstairs with you.

Lyle [whining]: Nooooo! Go downstairs first!!

Me: Lyle! If I don't use the bathroom first, I'll have an accident! [Trying to model not waiting so damn long to go to the bathroom...]

Lyle [thinks about this and then says impatiently]: Just put on a pull-up, Mommy. Let's go!

*****

If you've been reading this blog for more than, oh, let's say a week, you'll know that Lyle is all about the movie CARS. And I do mean, all about it.

When Matt asked him what he wanted for breakfast the other day, Lyle replied with a surly, "I eat losers for breakfast."

Later that evening, Lyle wiped out while running down our long upstairs hallway. He jumped back up and started running again, declaring, "I'm back in the race!"

Too good to be true.

Just a Suggestion

If you were, let's say, a second grade teacher who had been called out a mere week ago for making an inappropriate comment to another parent in front of me, I would really, truly recommend that when my husband brings in 30 cupcakes and juice boxes that he bought on a late-night grocery run last night, talking to you about them and putting them smack dab in the center of your desk, that you don't then FORGET TO DO THE PARTY.

Because when my son comes home from school and says confusedly, "I didn't have my party at school...but I don't know why," you are only going to lose more points with me. A. lot. more. points.

Just a suggestion, is all.

Happy Birthday, Baxter

Curious.

Sweet.

Enthusiastic.

Mischievous.

Adventurous.
Unique.

Silly.

Seven.

Mmm...Soup...

I'm tired. It was a whirlwind week last week, followed by a day in the clinic on Saturday, a late night last night, an early wake-up today, and a long day of work. Oh, and meeting an old college friend downtown for drinks after dinner. Not to mention that Baxter's birthday is in two days - which means there's a party this weekend - and we're hosting Thanksgiving next week.

Too much of a good thing.

On Sunday we had no plans for the afternoon, a rare treat indeed, and I intended to cook. I was able to make Jennifer's lentil soup and Kristen's pear bread again, but this time for my own family. I wanted to put the lentil soup aside for another night (or ten!), so I also made a really yummy tortellini soup that I'm told originally came from the Chicago Tribune's Food Section - it's delicious, easy, and was loved by 100% of adults and 50% of children in our home.

Quick Tortellini Soup

1 tbl. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 - 14 oz. cans low-sodium, low-fat chicken broth
1 - 15 oz. can diced tomatoes
1 package (9 oz) refrigerated tortellini (any variety - and also, we used dried tortellini and it was delicious)
1 cup chopped fresh spinach or 1/2 cup frozen chopped spinach
2 tbl balsamic vinegar
freshly ground pepper (or the old stuff in the pepper shaker!!)
grated parmesan cheese

Heat oil in a stockpot over medium-high heat. Add onion; cook, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic; cook, stirring, 30 seconds. Add broth and tomatoes and their liquid; heat to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer; cook 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add tortellini; cook until tortellini are heated through, about 5 minutes. Stir in spinach and vinegar; cook until spinach wilts and is heated through, about 2-3 minutes. Add pepper to taste. Ladle into bowls; top with cheese.

Prep time: 20 minutes/Cooking time: 25 minutes

*****

It was wonderful to spend some time in the kitchen, listening to mellow music, and being alone with my thoughts for a while that afternoon. I got the boys set up at the table making cards while I cooked, and Matt did some chores that needed doing around the house. It was definitely a Norman-Rockwell-Eat-Your-Heart-Out kind of an afternoon, one in which all parties feel content and at home. Matt got our gas fireplace working, and after dinner we played a game together in front of the fire even though the air was unseasonably warm.

At one point in the evening, reveling in the delicious home-cooked smells from the kitchen and general familial relaxation, Matt asked with a twinkle in his eye, "Wouldn't you like to stay home for a while?" And for about 10 minutes, I allowed myself that fantasy - of not working, dropping everything, having the luxury of being able to cook sometimes, lots more time with the kids, and not constantly feeling like I'm running in so many different directions. Because although staying home with the boys would be plenty of work - I've done it for long stretches in the past - I would have far less on my plate, more time to do things for our family, and would be much more focused with my energy, for sure. It sounded appealing for a little while, just like dropping everything and home-schooling the boys sounds good every once in a while. But Matt said it before I did: I wouldn't be me, and I wouldn't be happy, if I weren't working.

It's a relief to think about it on occasion and find that I continue to come back and choose what I am already doing, even if it's a harder road for me - and my family - to take and I'm so very fatigued.

And even when the kitchen smells that good.

Parenting Expert Speaks the Truth

I hate television news. I don't turn it on. Ever. The worst offenders of total crap "news" are the local stations, in my book. As you know from my posts about closed captioning foibles on the news, I have been working out at the gym a few mornings a week with the local news in my face, which is sort of amusing sometimes if I can put aside my irritation with it.

But today there was actually something important televised on Chicago's ABC-7 News! Of course, it only lasted about 30 seconds, but there was a local parenting expert named Karen Jacobson who was speaking out on two parenting topics I could talk about for hours if anyone could stand it to listen.

1. From the ABC-7 website, here is what she said first:

"...there is a new group of "at-risk" children growing up today and it's because of these parenting traps that a lot of families are falling into -- the trap of over-scheduling, over-stimulation, over-protection, over-involvement, over-praising, over-scheduling, over-indulging.

The research shows that the new "at-risk" population is children of affluence - college campuses across the nation are reporting that anxiety, depression, and drug and alcohol use are at an all time high largely because when these kids get on their own, they do not know how to cope (we well-meaning parents have protected them from struggle, disappointment and negative situations)."

2. And next:

"Jacobson suggests that parents take time to give children the gifts that really matter such as the gift of downtime, struggle, disappointment, empathy, chores, responsibility, limits, consequences, and mistakes."

Amen, sister. I know I've already written about the first point as it relates to my family. As for the second point, many modern parents are so often getting into a pattern of doing everything imaginable to circumvent their children's minor disappointments in order to avoid tantrums and tears. They fear that the child might remember that they had a negative experience with Mommy or Daddy! Well, yes, they probably will.

But you know what else they remember, which is also important? Kids remember that they got through it. They learn strategies to cope, just as Ms. Jacobson pointed out, which leads to an increased sense of competence and self-confidence. From what I can see, a lot of children are being deprived of this critical learning experience. We need to find the balance between old school authoritarian parenting and modern day overly child-centered parenting.

It's not easy to find this balance, but it is a gift to our children, one that truly does keep on giving.

Holding Nik in Our Hearts

There is a wonderful blogger I read every day who goes by the name Niksmom. Niksmom writes about the journey she is on parenting young Nik, whom she describes as "a (nearly) 4 yr old former micropreemie with multiple disabilities and exceptional needs including cerebral palsy, seizures, and ASD". I want to call your attention to Niksmom's most recent post, because she has directly requested that we keep her son - who for far too long has been struggling with an illness no doctor has been able to diagnose - in our hearts, thoughts, and prayers.

Please take a moment to read the post and do what you can to support this family. Let her know that she and her son are in our hearts.

Full Circle

Back when I was deciding where I wanted to get my Master's degree in Communication Disorders, I read about an expert in the field of autism named Dr. Barry Prizant. Autism was what drew me into this field in the first place, back in the early '90s, and I wanted to learn more. Before long, I knew that I would target Emerson College in Boston as my school of choice because that's where Dr. Prizant was teaching. Fall of 1995 found me enrolled at Emerson and sitting in one of Dr. Prizant's classes. I learned an enormous amount from him (and many others at Emerson, a fantastic program) over the years there, and what he taught me shaped my entire belief system about autism and was the foundation for my philosophy about working with children with ASD.

Once out of school I worked in a variety of settings: private practice (not mine), public school, and then eventually Oak Hill School, a private DIR school for children with spectrum (and related) disorders. At Oak Hill, I honed my skills and came to learn more about the DIR model, one which fit quite nicely into the developmental approach I learned from Dr. Prizant. Later I went off on my own, and have been in private practice (my own this time!) for almost four years. I have continued to pursue a great deal of continuing education in autism, exploring the DIR model and the awfully similarly named RDI model. (I'm just waiting for the IDR or the RID to come along, simply to confuse things further.) I love a lot about both of those methodologies, and yet - when it comes to deciding to invest time and money in certification in them - something has not quite felt right to me about either one.

The past two days found me at the Chicago SCERTS Institute, a training which was run by Dr. Prizant and a dear friend of mine from Emerson, Emily Rubin, SLP. Emily was in my grad school class and ended up working with Dr. Prizant and later collaborating with him and the other very impressive practitioners and researchers to develop the SCERTS model. I had done a 2-day training with Emily about 3 years ago and have been interested in SCERTS ever since. My colleague and I left the training this week with a great deal of excitement, ready to try it out with a mutual client, and (as is our wont) dreaming and scheming about how to use this model with a group of kids by running a SCERTS model preschool class together next year.

This is a methodology that feels good to me; it's the right fit. I'm sure I will write more about it over time as I am using it and learning more, but for now I'll just say that I'm fascinated by the way in which my work is coming full circle. Not only was I grateful this week that the philosophy within the SCERTS framework was not new to me (as it was to so many people in the room) because it's perfectly aligned with what I was taught 10 years ago, but I was also - for the first time, honestly - grateful that Matt and I have moved around so much. I feel fortunate to have amazing contacts and friends in my field from coast to coast; this never would have happened if we'd just stayed in Minnesota - or Boston - or San Francisco!

There is something comforting about coming full circle with "my people" and this type of methodology, while simultaneously feeling myself using it as a launching pad to move forward in a new, positive direction.

Mama Bear Checks in

Thank you all for your helpful and supportive comments and emails last week in response to this post. I am taking a moment during this week's blog hiatus to fill you in after today's parent-teacher conference.

So, we walked in this morning and I immediately grabbed Baxter's teacher by the shoulders. Talking as loudly as she does, I demanded, "Why do you have such a big freaking mouth?? Please think before you speak in the future, and DO NOT talk about your students to other parents!!"

Okay, okay, that was only one of my middle-of-the-night fantasies.

Instead, we participated in the conference like reasonable human beings. I was very pleased with Baxter's progress in the 1st quarter and it was clear that his teacher sees the same strengths and challenges that we see. Despite the fact that he's so young, he is at or above grade level in all areas and has earned a "Good Citizenship" award for being an all-around good guy, as he has every quarter at this school. We pointedly asked about his behavior and attention and were told that everything is fine. I stand by my opinion that she is, in fact, an excellent teacher.

After this glowing report, I - as calmly as I could - explained that I had been quite worried about what she was going to tell us today, given what she was saying last week to another parent during the Halloween celebration. I helped her to recall that the younger children in her class are making it "very difficult for [her] to teach" and "stare at [her] with open mouths when given directions". Ahem.

I watched as her understanding of this mistake unfolded, and she managed to apologize as profusely as we (and our child) deserved. To her credit, as soon as she saw this through our eyes she understood what was problematic about it and was properly mortified. I pointed out that next week, when the other mother's child comes home and says, "It was Baxter's birthday! And Mom - he just turned seven today!", the other mother will immediately connect my son with the image of a child who is struggling to get by in 2nd grade and is detracting from her own daughter's education by making things so very difficult for the teacher. All of which is untrue and unfair to my child. Furthermore, I pointed out that this conversation had taken place not with the principal or another teacher, but with another parent, and that this was inappropriate. I politely but strongly recommended to her that she have another conversation with that other parent and correct herself. She agreed to do so.

We left the room, congratulating ourselves. After all, we were done, right?

Sadly, not really. Although I am certainly relieved to have gotten this off my chest, I am not entirely satisfied. As I see it, there was a whole lot more that needed to be discussed but couldn't possibly be covered since we'd already gone over our alloted 10 minutes and another family was waiting. (Yes: only ten minutes. Another insult of modern education in Illinois and California!)

For one thing, I feel very uncomfortable with the fact that I played the card of Baxter's actual high performance in this scenario, as if that mattered. The truth is, that actually has nothing to do with it. I knew it would help her to understand our point of view as quickly as possible, but let's say that he did have trouble processing information or paying attention in class. I spend many hours a week with perfectly lovely and delightful children who have those very challenges, and I am a strong advocate for them in these types of situations. If my child were having those difficulties, I'd be even more upset about it because of the deep breach in confidentiality and privacy, not to mention discrimination. The point I wanted to make was that her words were a complete and utter insult to any children in her class who might be struggling with anything - that's part of teaching and she needs to be able to deal with whatever skill range she is given. Sure, it's a hard job - so teachers need to talk to other teachers and their principal about how to do it. Not other parents.

Secondly, I would like to have spent a good chunk of time making it clear that we don't all share her educational values. That is, that although she stated (to the mother of an older second grader) that she would prefer her child be "the oldest and smartest" in his class, these two characteristics are not on our top ten list of things important to us for our kids' education. It's not all about "smart" in my book, and for God's sake, someone has to be the youngest. Might as well be my kid. Who cares?! That's a post for another day.

But in the end, I'd say there's a teacher out there who is feeling acutely embarrassed about her behavior. I for one think that is most appropriate, and am happy to have at least part of this burden off my shoulders.

Crazy Week!

It was a good but rather crazy weekend. This week promises to bring more of the same.

We happen to have good friends in town from both coasts this week with one couple staying with us one night (yay!). Later in the week I'll spend two full days at the SCERTS Institute (which I've looked forward to for months!), and I'll be staying at a hotel in the suburbs for the night in between. I'll get back from that on Friday night, hopefully before the boys go to bed, only to have my monthly Saturday in the clinic the very next day. Oops.

Sometimes, even when things are all really great, they pile up in an unfortunate way.

So it may be a bit quieter than usual on the old blog this week. But if you are missing me, dear friends, just come on back and say "hello" to these very special images that I captured in the Bean today - you know, just to tide you over:





Because I'm so lame you just have to come back.

Don't you?

PS: During my little semi-hiatus this week, I've decided to leave you with a few "Best of The Wonderwheel" links for those of you who are newer to the blog:

How I know you don't need a panflute.

How a nice trip to the beach turned into family endangerment.

How we came to be card-carrying Unitarians: The Why Church? series.

What I don't do. (C'mon, I'm giving you another chance to 'fess up!)

Drunk blogging. (My most popular post ever - this should tell me something.)

Notes from California - written during my dad's surgery.

A review of a weekend at my grandparents' house.

My love for parenting boys.

When CARS Imitate Life

This morning, as I got myself ready for work, Matt observed Lyle playing with his cars on the kitchen floor.

He made Lightning McQueen visit each of his friends and say, "Good-bye! Good-bye! I'm going to work!"

Curious, Matt asked Lyle what exactly Lightning McQueen does at work.

Lyle, recently armed with the most basic summary of what I do for a living, thought about it for a bit and finally said, "He's going to try to teach Tow Mater to talk."

Good luck, there, Lightnin'. Good luck.

GRRRR...

Do you ever just have one of those days (weeks...months...)? One of those Mama Bear On Alert, Don't-Mess-with-Me kind of days?

I know it started on Halloween, when I was volunteering in Baxter's class. I - the mother of the youngest child in the second grade, thanks to a later cut-off age for kindergarten back in California - had the misfortune of hearing the teacher (how could I not hear that booming voice when I was standing less than two feet away) make a series of comments to another parent about the lack of wisdom of sending one's children to school "too young". It was one of those nasty comments that started with, "Now, I'm not going to tell anyone how to be a parent, but..." and ended with, "I'd rather my child be the oldest and smartest in the class, let me tell you!"

Excuse me?

I didn't relate the entire conversation here, but suffice it to say: if you were the parent of a youngish child OR a child with special needs, you would NOT have been pleased with this teacher's description of trying to teach to all of the kids in her class. No, not at all. It was wrong on so very many levels - what she said, how she said it, who she said it to, and when she said it. The only reason I didn't jump on it right then and there was that it was, well, a party. That and I was afraid I would have said things that I would have regretted later. Instead, I'm saving it up for next week's teacher conference. Oh, yes, I certainly am.

So, folks, let me just say that I am ready for battle. Not that I will actually be anything less than polite next week, but believe me, I will be direct and clear.

In the meantime, take pity on anyone who crosses me. I gave a Hyatt hotel customer service representative a rip-roaring hard time this morning when they screwed up a reservation and then refused to give me the lower rate they had originally promised me. ("Take that! And that! And this is for screwing up in the same week that I'm really, really furious with my son's teacher!")

As I told a good friend on the phone this morning, "If you've got a bone to pick with me about anything, this would not be the day."

Trick or Treat!

The day began, predictably, with a lot of excitement. Baxter, upon opening a pumpkin-shaped Halloween card from my parents at the breakfast table, let out a gasp you'd think would be reserved for Christmas morning. "It's today?" asked Lyle, eyes wide, hugging the card to his chest. "For real life??" Also predictably, the day ended with two tired little boys melting down out of sheer exhaustion, and finally dropping into bed in complete and utter silence.

In between, we had a really great day. A couple weeks ago I had the foresight to cancel my last two clients of the day, which allowed me to volunteer in Baxter's class for one of the first times ever and then be at home for the afternoon. I had a great time finally getting to match more faces to the names and helping them make pop-out cards. I was also able to make connections with more parents. It was a blast. Here's Baxter hard at work at my center:

This afternoon, after some quiet time, the kids got dressed into their blessedly simple and sweet Halloween costumes and we headed out to the house of some good friends who live in the beautiful Edgewater Glen neighborhood filled with old, single family houses on leafy tree-lined streets. Almost every household for blocks was handing out candy, neighbors sitting on their front porches. It was an absolutely idyllic Halloween night. Our friends always invite lots of families to trick-or-treat together and then go back to the house for a party. Here are some of my favorite shots (I'm posting them small because there are so many - you can click on them to see them full size, if you'd like):

Back at home, Baxter practiced the art of candy sorting and counting, learned from his friend Claire tonight. Lyle worked hard to count his, as well. The adorableness was not to be believed.

Until the meltdowns, that is.

Happy Halloween!

(Awww...look at 'em a year ago!)

Boo!

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Baxter took this of me last week and I've been saving it for you. Blurry, but special, no?
Photos of the actual trick-or-treaters will be available after tonight's Halloween extravaganza.

Mama's Little Elf

Gross Out Songs

Like most kids of a certain age, my kids like gross. I've already described how Lyle uses his potty words in the bathroom - that is, by racing into the bathroom when overcome by the urge to shout out his litany: "Pee-pee, poop, penis, butt, and bottom!!!" I love that "bottom" is a bathroom word to him, and I also want to add that I never said he couldn't talk about his penis outside the bathroom, okay? Just wanted to make that clear.

Anyway.

We now have a new ritual added to the bedtime routine. In the past, we all laid down on the big bed outside the boys' room and sang some sweet good night songs. However, thanks to Matt, we now also sing "gross-out songs" before bed. Yes, on any given night you might hear something along the lines of "Pee pee, poop, and throw up, too...hope there's no dog poop on my shoe" to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". It's always improvised and always met with gales of giggles. From all of us.

Ain't we got fun?

Kitchen Counter: Found!

Hey, look, everyone! I found the kitchen counter!

Turns out it was green all along. Who knew?

Just goes to show you what can be accomplished by staying up really late.

Maybe now I will stop YAMMERING ON about it on this blog.

(But don't count on it.)

The Letter of the Day

As I might have anticipated, this kid-free weekend was brought to us by the letter P... P for “productive”, “pumpkin pie”, and, well, maybe also a little “panic” thrown in.

Panic might be overstating the case, but I’ll bet you all know what happens when you start to organize the house. You open the storage room downstairs (which should have a big “Beware: Can of Worms!” warning on the door), preparing to finally move the big rug into it and – Holy too much crap, Batman! – you find yourself two hours later still moving boxes from one closet to another, with a huge pile of Goodwill donations by the back door. At the end of the day, you have accomplished a great deal, really, you have - the only trouble is, much of the impact is actually invisible to the naked eye, and you still can’t see the kitchen counter or your desk. Nor have any pictures gone up. You face reality all over again – that the work is really, truly never done, and while you are thrilled with what you have accomplished, you’d feel much better if you had the next two weeks available to keep going.

In the midst of the chaos, I received the phone call I’d been expecting and – to be honest - dreading just a little bit. It was a nice woman from church following up on my offer to make a meal for one of the couples who has recently had a baby. It’s true: I had told her this would be a good weekend (my time is flexible, after all). So, yes, yes, of course I can make a meal for these new parents tomorrow night. Absolutely. (Gulp.) Overwhelmed, I put it out of my mind and enjoyed a fun evening out with Matt.

I was up early today, happy to rise when I was good and ready. (Too bad I was "good and ready" quite so early.) Enjoying a leisurely few minutes at the computer, I discovered that not one but two bloggers I read regularly had posted delicious-sounding fall recipes this morning! How did you all know that I needed inspiration today? I am happy to report that I have made both Jennifer Graf Groneberg's lentil soup and Kristen’s pear bread this afternoon. With a nice salad thrown in, this will make a wonderful dinner for these first-time parents tonight. My kitchen smells absolutely fantastic.

I’m starting to suspect that the personal satisfaction I receive from doing things for others is making the difference in my stress level (that is, keeping it strangely low). Could it be that the sense of well-being that comes from lovingly preparing a hearty fall meal for a sleep-deprived couple I’ve never met – and beginning the planning process for a fabulous non-profit (more on this soon!) - leaves me feeling like it’s all going to be okay?

I don’t have to be in control of everything. I don’t need to freak out about getting to the surface of that kitchen counter or being caught up on every bit of paperwork because I am spending a lot of my time and energy right now on much bigger and more important things. Perhaps this helps to put in perspective the feeling of never being caught up enough in my own life.

Maybe, just maybe, this weekend’s P was actually for “perfect”.

Full-nest Syndrome

Have you ever felt concerned about your lack of stress?

I am actually worried about not being worried tonight. The weirdest thing is, I'm not much of a worrier most of the time. But I am strangely calm at a time when, truth be told, I have no right to be. I don't know exactly what-all I'm supposed to be doing with my evening, but I can tell you with certainty that it's not: a) having a nice long chat with my husband over a yummy dinner delivered from the Heartland Cafe; b) catching up on email and blogs; or c) going to bed early and reading until I fall asleep.

No, I'm pretty sure my time is supposed to be spent doing something like the following: a) unearthing the kitchen counter; b) writing October therapy notes and doing the end of the month billing for my practice; or c) writing one of those many progress reports or insurance documents that families have asked for. But I'm not doing those things right now, nor have I done them for the past couple of days when I had a moment. I'm really behind on things. And I'm totally calm about it. This is unlike me.

Maybe this is the calm before the storm. (I do see the storm that is the period between Halloween and Christmas on the horizon. It's a-comin'. Halloween, Baxter's birthday, work days at nursery school, evening meetings, evaluations I said I would do for new clients (what was I thinking?!), and then sailing on into Christmas and our trip to California. Yee-ikes.)

Matt's parents are taking the boys for the weekend. Yes, again! Although we have some fun things planned for ourselves, we are going to spend a goodly chunk of our quiet time working indoors on household chores that are long overdue. A few more pictures will be hung, some furniture will be rearranged, and errands will be run. So perhaps the promise of this upcoming productivity is enough to keep my stress at bay right now.

It reminds me of the New Yorker cartoon Matt stuck to our fridge tonight: a psychologist says to the thirtysomething woman lying on the couch, "You may be suffering from what's known as full-nest syndrome."

Amen to that.

Book Review - Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's

I have posted a review of the new book Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's by John Elder Robison at The Family Room. It's a truly wonderful and fascinating book, so come on over and read all about it.

While you're hanging out in The Family Room, stop and read Susan's review of Autism: The Musical because she gives it a more in-depth review than I did and we really need to get the word out about this incredible documentary.

Furthermore, Susan points us to a very helpful new post explaining the mysteries of the IEP process (to the extent that any of us can explain them) written by Kariana this week over on Silicon Valley Moms Blog, one of the sister sites to the Chicago Moms Blog.

Thanks, Susan, for keeping us all in the know!

Santa's Elves are Watching

Am I the very last parent in America to use Santa's elves as incentive for good behavior? It's freakin' amazing what the boys'll do for a good report from those little guys.

It's not even Halloween, for god's sake, and I'm pulling it out already. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Baxter keeps stealing those toy catalogs from the mailbox while I'm at work and is making the world's longest Christmas list. In October. Thanks, Fisher-Price.

It might not be listed in the "Right Things To Do" category in the current edition of Trends in Parenting*, but it works wonders.

Because you just never know when they might be peeking in the windows.

I'm just saying.

* Don't go running off to Google that journal. I made it up.

Transformation

The little blond boy and I walked together down the stairs of my office building in Bucktown. Step, wait, step, stop. He is tall for his age, and thin. He wears round glasses, giving him a look of intelligence. Look up at the ceiling, glance towards the window, hoping to get a glimpse of an airplane passing by. He is intelligent. Though he doesn't speak more than a few words, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this child is taking everything in. Step, step, wait, step, stop. There's nothing speedy about this process, nor should there be. Due to developmental delays, this child has a significant motor planning challenge, and although his movement is greatly improved and he can even run (on firm ground) when he wants to, there is no hurry to get downstairs and out to the car.

From around the corner of the hallway rushed a muscular, nice-looking man in his 30s. Given his helmet, cycling garb, speed, and perfectly-wrapped mailing envelope, I took him to be a bike messenger. "Let's move over, buddy," I said to the child, helping him move closer to the railing. Looking up at the man, I smiled and said, "We take our time."

The man slowed his pace, saying, "That's okay." He followed our choppy walk down the next flight of stairs, watching this child without a trace of pity. Without gawking curiosity. His uncommonly steady gaze was one of unfolding respect and understanding. At the bottom of the stairs, he held the door for us. He saw the child's caregiver approaching and asked, "Are you coming in here?" and then stepped back to let her in. I don't know how long he stood by. Had he moved on by the time the child had dropped to the ground, crying in frustration and pinching us because it was time for him to get into the car and he hadn't spent enough time gazing at the sky? I don't know.

All I know is that this child touched that man somehow today. I wondered if there was a child with special needs in the man's family or among his friends. Or was it simply that he was able to respect the effort it takes some of us to walk down the stairs when others are able to scurry down quickly and pedal off onto city streets, relying on rapid decision-making and perfect motor coordination to survive in the urban traffic?

I respect that man greatly for slowing his pace to match the little boy's, and to offer us assistance in such a positive manner. But my intuition is that the man received more from those few minutes than either the boy or I did. I believe that, in some way, the man was transformed by whatever came over him when he made the decision to walk down the stairs with us instead of ahead of us.

*****
I had the enormous good fortune of viewing the documentary "Autism: The Musical" last Thursday night. This description summarizes it well:

The film follows [5] children over the course of six months, as they create, prepare and then perform a live musical play on stage. Led by an intrepid acting coach who is herself the mother of an autistic child, this team of children defies their diagnosis. As it follows their journey, the audience not only better understands the nature of what autism is, but celebrates the joyful spirit of each child.

At this point, "Autism: The Musical" is touring a very small number of cities in the United States and is in each city for only 3 days. If I had gone on Tuesday night, I would have made an attempt to go all three nights, bringing more people with me each time. It's quite possible that I would have completely run out of Kleenex, however. The film is beautiful, honest, and inspiring. I began to dream and scheme of bigger and better things that I could do professionally for families and children with autism immediately. (More on that later.) If you happen to be reading this from San Francisco, it's playing there this week; it will also be in Boston in a couple of weeks. The website has more information.

It would be difficult to say what I loved best about this film, but one of the most joyful parts for me was to watch the transformation of one of the mothers; this mother described in grim detail the way she initially felt about her daughter's diagnosis. How her hopes for her daughter's future were wrapped up in her desire for her child to fit in and to be like everyone else, and how painful her lack of acceptance of who her daughter really was became for both of them. To see this woman let go, relaxing and enjoying her daughter as a teenager - joking and dancing around the house with her - was as heartwarming to me as anything else in the movie. She talked about the fact that having her daughter in her life transformed her into a completely different person; what she was saying was, it changed her for the better.

****

I can't speak for a parent of a child with autism, but I too have been changed for the better by the children I work with. My whole notion of success is completely different. I am able to grasp at what might appear to be a fleeting, abstract change in a child's behavior and see it as an enormous success, something tangible, a solid rung on the elusive developmental ladder. I celebrate the gestures more than the words, the process more than the product, and the social friendships more than the academics. I keep going back for the hugs, the small steps, the joy in the children's faces. For the warm, loving relationships that the experts like to tell us are impossible for children with autism, but that my colleagues and I are able to cultivate with every single child with this diagnosis.

And for watching a strong, healthy man instantly humbled by a quiet young boy making his way down the stairs on a Monday morning.

I'm No MLK

I can't believe how much I'm posting about the kids this weekend. I don't know if it's just because I've been with them non-stop while Matt's away, or if they have simply hit a new level of fabulousness, but here's another one for you...

On the way home from church yesterday Baxter and I were idly chatting about what I was going to try to get sorted out around the house when we got home. I told him, "I have a dream, Baxter, that this week Daddy and I will finally move the rolled up carpet from the living room down to the storage room!"

Baxter responded drily, "Well, it's a really good thing you aren't Martin Luther King, Mommy, because I don't think thousands of people would be coming out to hear that dream speech!"

The kid has a point. I guess I'd better watch what I say.

A Home Place

Looking up from the Welcome Table where I was helping families get signed in for our Unitarian Universalist youth programs, I confirmed that my own boys were sitting on two chairs across the room. In front of a large window, Baxter was reading a book and Lyle appeared to be vacillating between Baxter-watching and other-people-watching.

At ten o'clock, as the pastor prepared to enter the sanctuary, he banged the - well, now, what is it? a gong? a cymbal? - Cara? Matt? Tanya? Somebody help me out here. Regardless of the source of the sound, the kids and I are supposed to stay at the table a few extra minutes to help sign in any late-comers before heading in for the service ourselves.

After a moment I looked up again to check on the boys and they were -- gone.

I caught just a glimpse of the two of them holding hands, walking into the church sanctuary. By themselves. Amazed, I watched. My two little boys marched confidently down the center aisle. Baxter led the way into a row of his choosing, up near the front. Lyle pulled himself up onto a chair and sat next to him. Although they were fine without me, someone covered for me at the table so that I could join them. By the time I reached them they were both flipping through their hymnals, Baxter looking for his favorite "Spirit of Life" hymn and Lyle hoping that perhaps this week they had finally added some pictures to it.

As the service began with a trio singing "Dona Nobis Pacem", I was flooded with a feeling of enormous gratitude. Gratitude for this place, where my children feel so at home, so at ease. This is what I wanted for them to get from a church - another environment in their lives that is filled with people and events that make them feel safe and at home. Even when I'm not there.

It's All About the Samples

My kids will eat anything.

If it's from the Trader Joe's sample counter, that is.

These boys, who a year ago in California would not let any meat pass their lips - nor would they even look at condiments or anything spicy - happily took samples of kielbasa and mustard yesterday! And ate them!

Kielbasa! And mustard!

I think they are assimilating to America's heartland nicely.

At dinner, I wanted Lyle to try some turkey meatballs I'd bought at the store and he flatly refused. Finally, I put a piece in a small clear medicine cup that looked remarkably like the kielbasa sample cup, and stuck a blue toothpick in it - lo and behold, he tried it.

A Brefkist Moment

Mere moments after Lyle adorably complained about spilling juice on his "bajamas" and asked me to please put them in the washing "bachine" trying to unbutton his shirt like a man on fire, Baxter earnestly observed, "It's a good thing oatmeal looks like this before you eat it, because if it was ever too hot and you had to spit some out, it would still all look the same."

I'm thoroughly enjoying this solo weekend with the boys.

Pajama Morning

Well, I successfully engineered a (mostly) relaxing morning at home with the boys. At around 11 am, fresh from the shower, I went into the living room (where the boys had been assigned the task of watching The Backyardigans so that no one wandered into the shower to tell me I looked "crazy"), thinking maybe it was time to get dressed since we had to run to the grocery store before lunch.

Here is how I found them watching the video:

Easy Enough for a 1st Grader

In case anyone out there is wondering, "Just how easy could it be to use an iPhone?", I have the answer.

This afternoon I took Lyle downstairs to his room for a nap and promptly fell asleep on the floor next to him for one of my refreshing mini-naps. When I came upstairs 30 minutes later, Baxter (whom I'd left playing with the map feature on my iPhone) was deep into a text message conversation with Matt in Seattle.

It had taken Matt 4 messages to figure out that it wasn't me typing. Baxter actually started the conversation on his own with a "Have a great time" message! I think it was the turn when he told Matt that he was reading a book with a "palintologist" in it that Matt finally realized it was his son! Now they're having so much fun that Baxter's taking a photo of me to email to Daddy, at Matt's request.

Baxter has used email before and can type and send messages independently, but to be able to navigate around text messaging so easily? That's one user friendly piece of technology.

Gee, Where'd He Learn Those Lines?

Lyle (whining excessively): "Mommy, will you go downstairs with me to find my Ramone car?"

Me: "Well, I'm making dinner right now. Why don't you ask Baxter?"

Lyle (still whining excessively): "Baxter, will you please go downstairs with me to find my Ramone car? I'm too scared to go by myself."

Baxter (not looking up from his book): "Well - maybe, Lyle. But only if you can ask me without whining."

Lyle (immediately changing his tone): "I will, Baxter, I will ask you without whining! Will you come downstairs with me to find my Ramone car?"

Baxter (still not looking at him): "Maybe. If you look all over the upstairs first and can't find him. But, really, I'm busy reading right now."


If only that worked for me.

Cool Shoes!

Although I buy myself high quality, comfortable shoes most of the time, I have tried to avoid spending a lot of money on shoes for the kids. Knowing that they may only get 6-9 months of wear from them, it seems silly to spend a lot.

However, it's been hard to find good middle-of-the-road priced shoes...the ones I've bought at less expensive places that I expect to have decent quality (such as Target and Land's End), have literally fallen apart and had to be returned. I refuse to buy shoes from those stores anymore. Most of the time I try to go for the Stride Rites or can get some good Merrells on sale. It kills me to spend as much as $50 on a pair of shoes for the boys but once in a while I end up doing it in a pinch. It's a really good thing I don't have girls, because it would be very hard to resist those pricey girls' shoes, though!

It's not easy, however, to get cool shoes for boys in a decent price range. So when Umi offered me a free pair of ultra-hip leather shoes for each of my boys, I (eventually) agreed to review them.

When I ordered the shoes over the summer, Umi's website was brand new and there were very few choices (especially in Baxter's big kid size) but I liked the styles I picked out. It doesn't appear that more shoes have been added to their site yet. Lyle has the Sierra ($60) and Baxter has the Zazu ($65). (Remember, on Zappos (where it appears there are many more Umi styles) they'll beat the price of an online competitor - looks like maybe the Umi.com site has them at a higher price so you might get a really good deal by ordering them from Zappos.com!)

Now that the boys have worn them for about a month and a half, I'm happy to say that these are great shoes. (Okay, so I'm mostly happy to say this because they look REALLY cool!) Baxter absolutely loves his, which has really surprised me, given his usual preference for sneakers. I think he secretly likes all the compliments he gets on them. They are sturdy and appear to be well made; he says they are very comfortable. Lyle wears his less because I'd rather he not spill paint all over them in nursery school, but they are adorable with a pair of jeans when we go out. He also loves wearing them. My kids each only have two pairs of shoes - a pair of sneakers and the Umi leather shoes (beyond beach sandals) - so their shoes need to hold up well.

I recommend Umi if you are looking for high quality, comfortable, and fashionable kids' shoes. I'd buy them again in a heartbeat, but will look for them on sale.

Sharing the Zappos Love

Wow.

In case you didn't love Zappos enough before, read this right now.

A Little Zen Goes a Long Way

I dragged myself into the house at 5:30 pm tonight, dropping armloads of bags, a coffee mug, and my thermos as I stepped out of my clogs. It was a long, tiring day that came fast on the heels of a longer, more tiring night.

But the boys were quietly reading on the couch with their babysitter, and the house was in order. Our sitter had run and unloaded the dishwasher, put laundry through and left it folded on our bed, cleared the kitchen counter, and even scrubbed the kitchen sink. It was white again. She's unbelievable.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Home. Even though Matt wouldn't be home tonight until late, I was relaxed. I dimmed the lights and put on my ultimate relaxation music, George Winston's Autumn CD. (I must've had that album loop 50 times non-stop while I was in labor with Lyle; Matt could give us the exact figure, because I'm sure it matches perfectly the number of times he wanted to put a gun to his head.) I spoke quietly to the boys and started to make dinner. I was so calm that I didn't even jump out a window when I got the voice mail from Lyle's school informing me that both teachers are sick and he doesn't have nursery school tomorrow.

I put dinner on the table and called the kids in. I lit the candles, signaling to the boys that they could begin to eat (thanks, Cara, for that wonderful ritual). We ate and quietly chatted about our days, piano music still playing in the background. Lyle actually started rubbing his eyes while he ate, so relaxing was this meal. He needed that.

After dinner we read stories, practiced the week's spelling words, and got ready for bed. Both boys clambered into their bunks without argument and drifted off to sleep with a silence that was as eerie as it was uncharacteristic, while I lay fighting sleep on the floor next to them.

The juxtaposition of this evening with the race I ran this morning - getting my sleep-deprived self out of the house and losing Pokemon battles all the way to school - was sobering.

I need more of this. We need more of this. More quiet.

Matt will be going away on Saturday for a three-day weekend trip to Seattle to visit his oldest childhood friend. This friend and his wife are expecting their second child next month, and Matt knows how their life is about to change, that this is a good time to see an old friend. I'm grateful to have such a thoughtful husband and am glad he will get to have this weekend away.

The boys and I will have a quiet day on Saturday. Tonight I have canceled every single thing we were supposed to do. Maybe we'll go out somewhere adventurous, like one of the museums. Maybe we'll take a walk to the beach. Or perhaps we'll just stay home in our pajamas and read books and watch Mary Poppins and CARS all day. Who knows? All I know is that the choice will be ours.

Because we need more quiet.

The Abstract Random Apple Has Fallen From the Tree

Back in college, because I thought I'd be a kindergarten teacher when I grew up, I took an education class that (I believe) was called "Theories of Teaching and Learning". One day we took part in an exercise that, thanks to the Google, I now remember was called the "Gregorc model". On this web site, I found the following description of the Gregorc model:

The Gregorc model is a cognitive model designed to reveal two types of abilities, perception and ordering. Perceptual abilities, the means through which information is grasped, translate into two qualities: abstractness and concreteness. Ordering abilities are the ways the learner organizes information, either sequentially (linearly) or randomly (non-linearly). Gregorc couples these qualities to form four learning categories: concrete/sequential (CS), abstract/sequential (AS), abstract/random (AR), and concrete/random (CR). Although everyone has all four qualities, most people are predisposed toward one or two of them.

Although we found it humorous, my friends were not particularly surprised when I came out of that test with the label "Abstract Random" - let's face it: it fit. Matt and I have laughed about it for years when I say or do something that's maybe, let's say, not so linear.

We've known for quite some time that Lyle was following in my footsteps. The more we see his art and the language he uses, the more obvious this becomes. Last summer Matt's mother described Lyle's art as being Salvador Dali-like when he created a sticker picture with all the people flying and trucks on the rooftops. As a big fan of Marc Chagall, I love it.

Tonight I wrote down a joke he made up at the dinner table and Matt voiced the words that were in my head: "Now that's Abstract Random!"

Q: "Why did the cheeseburger cross the road without Frank the Bull* chasing him?"

A: "To get to the beer napkin!"

* CARS movie reference