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Pretty hard, apparently. I just wanted one picture of this kid in her new shirt.
Patience Tester.
There were never more true words written on a t-shirt.
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Who hasn't entered for the free cookbook? Also, I'm all over the internet tonight - this is my night for Larger Families - maybe some of you can answer MY question over there! And, don't forget The Elff diet!
Last night, we went to a going away party. It was the first outdoor party of the year for my family, and we really enjoyed it. We ended up staying way too late - it was 9 p.m. before we left, and we walked home as fast as possible. When we walked through the door, I barked orders. "You - up to my bathroom. Shower, teeth, medicine, bed. You and you, into the bedroom now." I pushed and rushed and had almost everyone in bed by 9:30. Everyone had clean teeth, hands and feet, and as far as I was concerned, they were going to sleep.
As I made my way downstairs, though, I heard a noise that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I went into the big girls bedroom to find my daughter crying. No, not crying, more like sobbing her heart out. "What's wrong, why are you crying?"
She sat up in bed and sobbed, "I'm so PLAIN! I'm the plainest one in my class! I'm PLAIN!"
When I questioned her further, she said that no one had said anything to make her feel bad, but "I have eyes in my head and I can see it, Mom." The sister that shares her room is not known for her sympathy, and I was sorely afraid that she'd toss off something like, "Well, you are. Now get over it." Instead, to my surprise, she picked up her sister's hand and said many, many things that was wonderful and funny and ultimately uplifting.
It occurred to me, as this was going on, that my girls are insanely jealous of each other. One thinks that the other, who is smaller and skinnier and a super fast runner, is better than she could ever be. After all, everyone says it, therefore it must be. That one thinks that, because everyone talks about the beauty of the first, the way she could be a model, and that must make her plain.
Clearly, I've been remiss in my reassurances to each of them. This is an area I need to work on, and step up with all of my kids. I spend too much time arguing and ordering and delivering people to their places, and not nearly enough time telling them how much I prize them for each of their special characteristics.
Your Mission for Monday is tough. Maybe not as tough as last week's, but it's hard nonetheless.
Tell the people in your family one thing you really like about them. Last week, we each had to say good stuff about ourselves. This week, spread the love. Tell your kids one cool/special/interesting/exciting/unique thing about themselves. If you have no children, tell your parents. Or your spouse, or your dog, or your mailman.
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Wanna win a free cookbook? Denise, over at FlamingoHouse, is running an awesome contest promoting my new blog. Go there and see what she has to say - there aren't that many steps, and the prize is great!
It occurred to me last night that I never posted any pics of our trip to Vancouver. Or a trip recap, for that matter.
I really, really liked Vancouver. I was surprised by the city - it was clean, friendly and very walking oriented. We walked 6 miles one day and 7 the next. We visited an awesome open air type market, which made me long for one in my own city. We saw Chinatown and ate some really faboo meals. The weather was perfect - not too cold, as I had feared - no rain. We toured Stanley Park and saw the totem poles: 
The scenery before we got on the Lionsgate Bridge was gorgeous: 
The Hubster assumed the position each and every time we got on the bus: 
The view from the Capilano Bridge (as tall as the Statue of Liberty and 450 feet across):
One of the many gorgeous views: 
And, finally, a shot of me with The Hubster on the dinner cruise: 
April is Autism Awareness Month. April is also almost over. It's not that I've forgotten, it's just that I had really nothing to contribute.
Riley has a form of Autism. She has a high functioning form, which is a fancy way of saying that you can sometimes carry on a conversation with her. I'm kidding, but that's kind of the situation. She doesn't have some of the characteristics - but others she has in spades. She self stims, she's repetitive occasionally, she tantrums, and occasionally she's out of control. She avoids eye contact with all but her closest family. She bites, she hits, she screams and cries and acts like a brat.
Her form of autism is called Sensory Integration Disorder, or Sensory Processing Disorder. From the SPD website: Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) is a complex disorder of the brain that affects developing children. Children with SPD misinterpret everyday sensory information, such as touch, sound, and movement. Depending on which type of SPD a child has, he may feel as if he is overwhelmed with information, he may seek out intense sensory experiences, or he might have other symptoms. This can lead to behavioral problems, difficulties with coordination, and other issues. Effective treatment is available, but far too many children with SPD are misdiagnosed and not properly treated.
This disorder makes for a rough life. Imagine, if you will, stepping out of your front door. You make your way to the car and get in. An individual with SPD steps out of the house. "Wow. There are birds. Can't you hear them? What sound are they making? There's some wind - feel it on your cheeks. My sister is breathing funny. I don't like the way these steps feel on my feet. Where am I going? Oh, there's a fly. I don't like flies - let me scream my head off!"
And on and on and on. There are some really good days, and then there. Are Not. Crowds are hard for her, noises are hard for her, late afternoon is hard for her. From the above website: Children with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) may suffer from anxiety, depression, aggression, or other behavioral problems. They may have problems with motor skills and other skills needed for school success. They may also be socially isolated and suffer from low self-esteem. Often they get a reputation for being a "difficult child." These difficulties put these children at high risk for many emotional, social, and educational problems, including the inability to make friends or be a part of a group, a poor self-concept, academic failure, and being labeled as clumsy, uncooperative, belligerent, disruptive, or out of control. Parents may be blamed for their children’s behavior by people who are unaware of this "hidden handicap."
Amen to that last statement. There have been many times that Riley has a break down - I can think of three this week alone - in public, and I've been stared at and given what I call "the old Italian Lady eye." (And I can totally say that, since we have family that fits that category, and I know what I'm talking about.) It calls doubt into my effectiveness as a parent. Even when I squat right down on her level, hold her face in my hands, and calmly repeat a hundred million times, "Eyes. Focus on Mommy. Look at Mommy", as she slaps me and spits at me and kicks me, and I try to avoid her hands and restrain her, I still doubt myself. My brain "knows" that she has a problem, that she's not a typical three year old, even though she looks like it. My brain is also stupid sometimes, and I just want to smack her and yell "STOP IT!" and sometimes I do and I always regret it. Yelling at her doesn't work, spanking her doesn't work, sometimes isolation does, but it's tricky to know if it'll work that time or not. There are days that just exhaust me, dealing with her. I still carry her in my sling, if she's really having a rough day. Those days my back hurts too. There are many days that I sit with her, holding her wrapped in her blanket, and struggle to hold back the tears.
I see her actions affecting my older kids. They become annoyed with her - when she's incessantly crying and whining, she can be total hell to be around. She can also be as sweet as pie. It's tricky to know which is on the agenda, and, in fact, the agenda changes on a minute by minute basis some days. Just now, she minced towards me with baby steps, peering at me through a magnifying glass and calling, "Hello? Where are you?" She's funny. Ten minutes ago, she was inconsolable, throwing herself on the floor and hitting her face because she forgot her boots outside. That wasn't so funny.
Autism is a tricky thing. On the surface, where most of us judge each other, it looks like a poor case of discipline. I've been told that before, by well meaning strangers. She's gotten so much better, though - she can tolerate so many more situations that she couldn't in the past. Part of that is therapy, and part of it is growing up. I'm hopeful that she'll continue to make improvements as she matures, but I'm bothered by the acting out and wonder how I'll be able to handle it when she's 8, or 12, or 16. She's officially not eligible for services from the state - she's made such improvement that she qualified herself right out. She's in a gray area.
The face at the top of this post is the face of Autism. It's a beautiful face. The face of my daughter.
I have a routinue. It's a good one, for the most part, although definitely not foolproof. I get up, get the kids ready for school and take them. When I leave, the two youngest remain with The Hubster. That way, I can drive the smaller car - his work car - and not have to take the littles out with me. The Hubster can work out, shower and get ready for work, as well as spend time with them. It's a pretty good arrangement. After I drop the kids at their respective schools, I stop and get coffee before returning home.
Today was just like any other day. When I arrived back at my house, though, I couldn't believe what I saw.
No, not that kind. The other kind.
I have the HARDEST time ever saying nice things about myself. You all know that - I've spoken about it enough here. I'm frequently disparaging, unkind, and critical, in ways that I wouldn't tolerate in others. I have a terrible time saying kind things about myself - so I try to make myself do it at least once a day. I once participated in an activity that blew my socks off. The group that I was in had each of us tape a piece of paper onto our backs. We had to mingle and write a nice comment, or a flattering phrase, on the paper of everyone else. I couldn't believe the things that I read that others thought of me.
I try to do something similar with myself once in a while. I list things that I'm strong at, things that I like about me. Then I try to keep the paper somewhere I can see it, but somewhere that the others in my family won't see it and tease me. Here's today's list:
Your Mission for the Monday is to list 5-10 things that you really like about yourself. What have you to say? Care to share your list with me?
Because as I sat down to eat lunch, I placed my camera on the table. And in what can only be described as uber slow motion, I watched the camera strap fall off the top of my shoulder, hit the large glass of ice water, and cascade directly into the lap of my friend Sherry, sitting across from me.
I knew that I shouldn't have traveled without my sippy cup. I'm not used to eating with adults, apparently.
In other news, I totally walked across the Capilano Suspension bridge. TWICE. And I walked 6 miles around the harbor this morning. And The Hubster fell asleep on the bus tour, and we all took pictures of him. Great times.
And now I'm exhausted - and we've got a dinner to go to. No one wants to sit across from me - wonder why?
While flying, we are all the same. We are all reduced to the bottom of the basement - all patted down, wanded - yes, that was me AGAIN - EVERY single trip. We line up like cattle led to a slaughter, file on to the plane, and jam our bottoms into too tight seats. We pay $2 for a bottle of water, or $5 for a sandwich. We all doze off, waking as our necks snap and heads bob. Or when drool pools out the side of one's mouth.
Or, in the case of The Hubster, as you are drinking your drink with a straw, and you doze off, and your mouth keeps hold of the straw as your hand slowly drops the beverage - cold coffee - to the side. And the end of the straw leaks the coffee all over your pants as you peacefully sleep with the straw still between your lips and the coffee pours onto the floor.
And your wife laughs so hard she pees in her pants.
Choose friends wisely, the portrait they paint
Is who you are and who you ain't.
Friendship is life's great support
When friends are of the right sort.
For all your dreams do they make room,
Or bring you down with doom and gloom?
You will know a friendship is true
When it brings out the best in you.
It's the truth. I've been blessed with really good friends, which has been made apparent to me this week as I solidify my trip plans. I've gotten rides for my kids for school and all activities, meetings covered - really, anything I've needed all I had to do was ask and someone responded, "Yes, I can do it for you." It's been a very gratifying week. I've been covered for at work, no one will miss me at soccer - I can go and relax. Thank you so much to all of you - and to my two friends who live in my city who had such nice things to say about this blog and my other, thank YOU!
Also wonderful were the people who linked my new blog The Elff Diet. I promised to award dvds to some lucky person. I've decided to award two, and those go to Paige and Shelly. The winners were randomly drawn by Riley. Thank you so much for the links, everyone!
Also the winner of a dvd, to thank her for her very gracious nomination of The Elff Diet for a Thinking blogger award is Chewymom. Thank you so much! Now, if I only knew how to actually post the dang thing! 
Winners, please email me at momtothescreamingmassesATgmailDOTcom
I'm off to Vancouver. I'll have free wi-fi, access to a dozen Starbucks, and hours to myself while The Hubster has meetings. I'm looking forward to it.
Tonight I needed to go to the grocery store. I decided to wait until everyone was in bed and go to my favorite cheap spot, the open 24 hour Wally world. While I was driving there, I mused. "What am I going to write about tonight?" Nothing really came to mind, in fact, my mind was pretty much a blank.
I did decide that I would take everyone's advice and call for a referral to an internist. Actually, I called today and left a message for the best midwife in the world - she's already returned my call twice and I wasn't home either time. But I'll ask her and see what she recommends. And ugh for all of those who suggested perimenopause, although I'd love to not have my monthly any more.
I parked my van in a really close spot and walked towards the door. Hmmm, why was the door not opening? Oh, right, it's 9:50 - I think this set of doors is closed after 9. I backtracked and went to the other set. Grabbing a cart, I looked down at my list.
"Attention. Attention. Make your way to the registers now. Do not delay. Wal-Mart will be closing at 10 p.m. this evening. Do not delay."
Huh?
