Going to enjoy the now for awhile. Of course, we all know that ‘awhile’ could be an hour or a year.

Don’t touch the cheezits.

Storms started today about 4, and just ended about an hour ago. Damn siren went off 4 times over the course of an hour, and managed to scare the begeezus out of the kiddos. Never seen them fly that fast.

But, all is well. Tornadoes hit about 30 miles north and about 20 miles south, but not here. Sure did get our asses in gear though.

There is a lone reinforced room in the basement that only has one window. Well, it had one window. That’s now been taken care of thanks to MD’s new power drill. The extra furniture that won’t fit upstairs makes a comfy place to hang out, and there’s even two extra crib mattresses stored in there for extra protection. It’s also the room that has a small crawlspace that leads out underneath the porch, if for some reason we can’t exit out the door. We made a new home for the radio and flashlight on the basement shelf, so they’re easy to grab on the way down. Tonight was scary, but at least it motivated us to get the basement storm ready.

Now let’s hope we never need it.

Had RudeMom’s kid here again last night. He was actually invited this time, but I knew not to make any plans for today that couldn’t involve her kiddo. Sure enough, she’s just got a few things to do and a dental appt at one - then she’ll be right over. I ain’t holding my breath.

Busy weekend. Baseball games and parks and fun. Wish that stupid deck would build itself.

Had a dream last night that a tornado hit the house before we could get to safety. I woke myself up the instant it hit, but it still upset me all the same.

Which explains why I’m sitting here at 3:44am waiting for the tornado watch to end. It’s no longer storming and the radar is mostly clear, but I’m sitting here anyway. It ends at 4am, and I’ll head to bed at 4:01. Would have been nice if the cable hadn’t of been dead the past 4 hours while I waited. What a crock of shit.

I love rain. I love storms. But I don’t like that two of my babies are spending the night elsewhere. I don’t like that I have my sister’s son here that I am entrusted with to keep safe. I don’t like having dreams about tornadoes and then being faced with potential for real ones. I don’t like having an open basement filled with windows. I don’t like knowing I have lots of precious babies to carry downstairs if the need arises. And I sure as shittin’ don’t like tornadoes.

I can’t wait until we can finally build our own house. I’ve had plenty of time tonight to design my perfect storm shelter.

Off to bed now. Not sure where that will be yet, as Ang the dumbass left her window open during the storm. It’ll be awhile before my mattress doesn’t squish.

Grades were a little shakier this year, but all three still managed to pull off honor roll. And for MB3 – it was high honor roll.

Let me just sit here and enjoy the moment. I can feel the fights building already, and they’ve only been home 9 minutes.

The Shit Tally

*Today is the last day of school. Fighting among the boys always reaches a new level in the summer. Hopefully someday it can all be dealt with on the virtual level so mama doesn’t have to listen to it.

*I feel like asscrack this morning. Really nasty asscrack too. I suspected last night that I wasn’t feeling quite right. This morning’s swollen glands, sore throat, pounding fucking head, and one scary ass voice confirmed my fears. What a shitty way to greet the weekend.

*MB3’s baseball game lasted an incredibly torturous 3 hours last night. 3 must have been my number for the day. Didn’t get home until after 10:30. Made the oldest boys bathe anyway, and gave the little ones a wipe down before they crashed. Was after 11pm when I could finally sit down and rest for the day.

*MB3’s coach is a moron. Those poor kids haven’t a clue as to what they’re doing. They only had a handful of practices before the season started, and haven’t practiced but twice since. That team last night hammered it to ‘em. Damn thing lasted so long because our team couldn’t get the outs. It was only 4 innings. Final score? 13 to 1 – and the other coaches stopped sending their boys into home in the third inning. Was painful to watch.

The Yay Tally

*Today is Friday. Enough said.

*Today is the last day of school. No more teachers, no more books. No more MB1’s dirty looks over an early bedtime. Today is also a half day. Boys will be home at noon, which means the little ones will be thrilled to death. They miss the older brats when they’re gone

*MB2 was asked out by a gal in his class yesterday. She is beyootiful. They are now going together, and she asked him to the dance tonight. He immediately came to me to line up a few jobs for after school today so that he could earn extra money to spoil her with tonight. My boy is wise. And floating up around Cloud 19, I might add.

*MD should be home early today. I know that will make his paycheck suck donkey dick, but I really need him home today. I miss him lately. He listened to me bawl about my horrid day, and together we talked about a few new ideas to try when MB4 plays the let’s-drive-mom-to-tears-with-the-broken-record-game again. I needed that adult conversation yesterday. I want more.

*MB4 had an absolute blast last night at the ballfield. There’s another family in this town that has 5 boys all 8 and under (yes, she’s expecting again – any day now actually). My boy and my baby girl ran around nutzo with 4 of these boys. Rolling down hills, playing tag, hide and seek. MB4 fit right in. Perfectly normal. I needed to see that.

Thanks to Michelle and Nancy, I can think straight now. No more urge to back the van up over my head.

Has just been a bad week with MB4. He has rough weeks every now and then, but this is the first one he’s had since the word autism entered the picture.

I had a dental appointment this morning. Just a consult really. I told MB4 and MG that if they were good, I would give them a popsicle when we got home. And off we went.

MG didn’t want to sit in the chair. She wanted to stand. This set MB4 off, and he started badgering her … we’re not getting a popsicle and don’t you want me to have a popsicle and can i have a popsicle MG. Then he pushed her down, grabbed her ankles, and drug her back over to the chair. She thought it was great fun, and giggled as she ran back over to me. He lost his fucking mind then.

Can I have a popsicle? Can I have a popsicle MG? Can I? Can I have a popsicle MG? Can I? MG, can I have one? Can I have a popsicle?

I sat her down, gave her something to draw with, and hoped it would settle him down. But it was too late.

[Louder]
Can I have a popsicle? Can I have a popsicle MG? Can I? Can I have a popsicle MG? Can I? MG, can I have one? Can I have a popsicle?

Asked him to stop it. Begged him to stop it. Whispered in his ear that I was going to spank his bottom if he didn’t stop it. To which he replied: and you’ll make all my blood come out?

Great. Just fucking great. The dentist already thought I was a nutjob. I had said that he might be autistic, and had started to tear up from just saying the word. And now I looked like some kid-beater.

So then I had to explain about the blood fascination. About how he wouldn’t wear his seat belt one day, and how it had led to my explanation that he could be thrown into the window if we ever got into an accident. He had asked if that would make all his blood come out, and I said – I guess it could.

Now everything will make his blood come out. Spankings. Bike injuries. Light sockets. Jumping on the bed. You name it.

He continued to ask MG if he could have a popsicle on the way home. She ignored him. She said no when he finally started to piss her off.

Over the course of the next 3 fucking hours, he kept at it. He wouldn’t stop. I tried explaining that she wasn’t the boss, but he wouldn’t listen. I bribed him with new crayons – but he asked her while he was coloring. I fixed lunch – but he asked her while he was chewing. I gave him a fucking popsicle, but he still wouldn’t touch it – nor would he shut up.

I was in tears begging MG to just say yes. She refused. Then I whispered in her ear and asked if she wanted a popsicle, and she said yes. Just like that – MB4 was fine again. He smiled, thanked her, and suggested they both have green ones.

My tears fell non-stop and un-noticed while I cut the tops off for them. I have so much in my mind that needs to get out, but I have no energy for it now. Thanks to two very special women, I am back on my game and ready for the next round of repetitious questioning.

Sort of.

What a shitty day. What a shitty week. I’m so fucking frustrated I could cry. I have cried. Have been crying this whole week because I just can’t do it. Or do it right. Or whatever. I’m not who I thought I was. Dammit.

Why does it feel like a Monday?

Hauled the fishing chairs out of the basement to clean them off and get them ready for the season. Several tags lined the edge – one caught my eye as I scrubbed…

This chair can only load 295lbs maximum. Please do not apply any loads above the wt or you may cause the chair broken and injure yourself.

Word for word.

I bet that company was mighty pleased to discover that little gem after those chairs had been shipped out all over the country. I have 4 of them in case they need to staple it to their foreheads before hiring the next tag writer.

MB3 decided he really doesn’t want to go to the overnight camp after all. I was worried about him from the get go. He’s only 8. That’s an awful young age to be away from home for a week – especially when he won’t be in the same section as his older brothers. MB1 will be a counselor there next year, so perhaps he can try it then.

He’s going to the school camp anyway. His friends will be there, and they earn $100 for attending the entire month. Well, not cash, but some little kid credit card with a $100 on it to be used at various places around town. I see a lot of DQ in our future.

His decision saved me well over 300 bucks between the registration fees and the camping supplies.

Very nice.

Just like Jenn, I found myself mourning the death of two men today. Men I’ve never met.

I read about Dizzy Girl’s nephew Jeremiah this morning, and it set the tone for my mood. I’ve spent the day thinking about his children. His wife. Wondering how I would feel in Gennie’s situation. In her family’s shoes. How would I want people to react? What words would I want people to say?

I wanted to leave a comment. Something to let them know how sorry I am that this wonderful person was taken from their lives much too soon. A few words to express how thankful I am that soldiers like Jeremiah serve their country and protect our freedoms. How humbled I am that he gave his life to make this world a better place. That I won’t forget.

But I wasn’t sure if I would want to hear those things, so I left it at truly sorry. And I am truly sorry for their loss. And I am truly thankful.

I wandered around the blogroll, trying to pick up my mood a bit – only to read about another loss. I’d never met Rick, but I’ve been reading his comments around various blogs for awhile now. I enjoyed his sense of humor. He made me smile. I guess he made a lot of other people smile as well. I hope those people will continue to smile whenever they think of him.

It’s been a sad day. Makes no difference whether I actually ever met these men or not. They were good people, and losing good people in this world is always worth a mention or two.

I hate it when you’re up alone at night and you get spooked.

Is it just me, or do the years seem to zip by faster and faster?

For the most part, I’ve raised my children the same. Maybe the younger ones have a few more freedoms, but I’m still just as anal about their safety as I was with the older boys. As a result, they all pretty much follow my lead – except for my daughter.

I could watch her all day. She fascinates me. That tiny child is fearless. Absolutely fearless. To her, nothing is impossible, just longer to master. She never gives up, she never quits, and she never stops smiling.

I took the kids to the park twice today, and both times, I did my best to follow her around to ensure her safety. I didn’t want her sliding down the pole, or swinging on the monkey bars, or climbing up the chain ladder. I have that ability that all parents have – to witness in living color, every nasty horrifying accident in full detail that can befall a child – regardless of whether it will actually ever happen or not. I take no chances.

But MG is not a parent. She slid down that pole faster than I could haul my ass up those rubberized steps. She had climbed up the chain ladder before I could throw myself down the swirly slide trying to catch up to her. And she giggled the entire time. Fearless. She stopped short of the giant wave-y slide and curiously watched as I tried to hoist my carcass up the chain ladder. She started chanting you can do it, mom. c’mon – it’s not scary, you can do it. I reached the top and she applauded me. Then she grabbed my hand and gently led me to the slide. C’mon mom, I’ll go with you.

She looked so alive. So happy. So free. Truly without a care in the world. That’s just her nature. And her tender age of almost 3 has nothing to do with it. That’s just who she is – who she will always be. I can tell that about her already. She will always be the one to push on when everyone else has given up. She will forever be the spreader of cheer, and the hand to hold on to. My baby girl won’t shut her eyes on the roller coasters, or think twice about the high dive.

Someday, she’ll beg me to let her drive off to LA with a guy named Randy, and I’ll have to move into a house with a really tall tower to keep her imprisoned safe. But today, when I saw those baby blues dancing as she asked me to lift her up to those monkey bars, I just smiled.

And lifted her up.

Guess we’ll get to the deck next week. This weekend, there were parks to play in and Bigfoots to ride and pictures to take.

Someone needs to take the camera away from me. I’m becoming rather addicted. Maybe that means I’ll eventually get better at it.

Shitty shots galore in the gallery.

I’ve gone back and forth the past couple of days on whether to watch the video or not. You know which one, I don’t have to spell it out for you. In the end, I watched it. Felt I had to. Instinctively, I couldn’t help but close my eyes to parts of it, and for that – I am thankful. I just wish my ears had that same ability. I was not prepared to hear what I heard, and I can’t get it out of my head now.

I know there is a lot of talk going around that there is more to this story. That perhaps he had ties to this group in some way. If that’s true, then this horrifying act terrifies me even more. With friends like that….

Enough of that shit. Going to turn the music up loud, which might explain why I’m rather hard of hearing the past few months, and play a game with my children. When MD gets home, we’ve got the 10th Kingdom to watch (again) with the kids. Love that movie – all 46,000 hours of it.

Then if the forecasted storms turn out to be bullshit, MD and I are going to start on the back deck tomorrow. He’s such a lucky man to have me as his helper in this construction endeavor.

Rest of the weekend is open wide. No games, no practices, no nothing.
I need a weekend like this to just …. be.

Something worth mentioning. I’m one-handed right now, but that link will explain everything. I saw the show as well, and was in awe of this beautiful woman.

May 13 Scattered T-Storms
May 14 Partly Cloudy
May 15 Isolated T-Storms
May 16 Isolated T-Storms
May 17 Scattered T-Storms
May 18 Isolated T-Storms
May 19 Isolated T-Storms
May 20 Scattered T-Storms
May 21 Scattered Showers
May 22 Scattered Showers

I’m calling Noah.

Feeling out of sorts. Have spent the past few days reorganizing toys and closets. Hardly on the computer at all. Rare for me. The more time I spend away, the less I feel the pull drawing me over here. I like this balance. Gives me time to think.

I’m almost done with MB4’s list for the phone evaluation. Not sure how relevant some of them are, but I figured it was best to add them just in case. I’m trying very hard to treat him the same way I did a week ago, but it’s hard. I find myself trying to help him work through his quirks instead of just making exceptions for them. I’m trying to keep the school environment fresh in my mind and use that as a basis on how to deal with him. Am I helping or hurting him? I don’t know. Have I sheltered him too much? Made too many adjustments in our lives catered to his needs? I am faced with new realizations every day that deserve a mention on the 2nd. Things we have made allowances for. I’m more and more aware of my role in this too. How I’ve been his bridge. His translator. His mood meter reader. I can now look back and see how our entire family has adapted to him, and how that has totally unprepared him for adapting to the world outside. I’m no longer worried that they will find him autistic – now I’m terrified that they won’t. I am afraid that he will fall short of qualifying for help. I dread the years of struggle ahead if that happens.

MB2 is considered borderline ADD. We knew it early on. The school knew it. The doctors knew it. But he tested borderline. Not enough. Not enough to warrant anything more than a note pleading with the teacher at the start of each school year to understand that he might need a little extra help. That we were willing to do whatever it took to help him along, we just needed to know what to do. Those notes went ignored the first three years. Those years were absolute hell. Fucking nightmare. We’d sit at the table and work with him for hours trying to help him catch on. Trying to help him connect the dots in his mind that allowed him to focus. Teachers would send home an hour’s worth of homework every night, and it took 3 sometimes 4 hours to complete it. Many tears were shed trying to complete it – from both of us.

His third grade teacher was a gift from God. As was every teacher since. He’s come a long way the past few years, and I’m proud of how hard he tries to get a handle on his school work.

But I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to go through that again. I’m not sure I can go through that again. I am the closest one to MB4. If anyone speaks his language – it’s me. But even I feel as if I might as well be talking to the couch most of the time. He’s not like MB2 was. It’s not just a matter of getting him to focus – it’s getting him to focus and understand.

I was glad in the end that MB2 wasn’t given a distinct label to carry, but I find myself wanting one this time around. I need help with this.

MD doesn’t see the difference between a Ho-Ho and a Swiss Cake Roll.

This marriage might be doomed.

It was chilly that morning. Was the 22nd of June, but it was down right cold. I got dressed, threw on my shoes, and headed outside. I was just recovering from the demon they call jet lag, and the morning air was a brutal wake-up for my sleepy ass. And the smell. I had been there about 3 weeks, but I still wasn’t used to it. Made my stomach churn.

By 6am, the smell of greasy bacon from the grill a block over invaded the street. I can still see the butter wheel that the girl used to butter my toast with on the mornings that I had the stomach enough to eat. Can still feel the heat from the coffee cannisters as I stood there in line waiting to pay my $5.64 for a meal I wouldn’t feed my dog – but was still better than anything the chow hall had to offer.

And there was always the smell of the motorpool. You can’t escape it on a base like Erlangen. The very essence of those military vehicles raped your senses the minute you stepped outside.

And the cold itself had a smell all its own. Fresh, yet bitter. Cold, yet incredibly comforting as it wrapped around you. Was a very lonely smell. Very powerful. Was a constant reminder of how very far from home I was. Of how very alone I was.

I was looking forward to the run that morning. We were headed to the outskirts of the post. Nothing but us and the cold and the trees. You could hear every footstep. Every crunch. Every breath. It was a time to completely empty your mind.

We got out there, and it started to mist. Was a warm misting, and I welcomed it. Almost immediately though, the weather shifted. Became very humid. Became harder to breathe. The air was so incredibly heavy.

That’s all I remember. I’m told I blacked out and ran into a tree. I felt fine, but they sent me to the TMC anyway to get checked out.

Lots of simple bullshit checks. Smell inside that place was even worse that the 6am air, and I just wanted out. Finally stuck me in a draped off corner so the doc could speak to me.

That was the morning I found out I was going to be a mom. I, the woman who never wanted children because I was too terrified of screwing them up. I, the woman who really wasn’t a woman at all, but a very scared, very homesick little girl of barely 19. I, who had only known her husband for 5 months, and had only been married for 2. I was going to be somebody’s mother.

He signed the paper, laid it on the examining table, and left. I stared at that pink piece of paper for a very long time. When I finally picked it up, the tears blurred my vision and I had to wipe them away in order to read it. POS+ for preg. It was circled, and just kind of scribbled there toward the bottom. I remember wishing he had taken more time to write it. More effort to make that message look as important as it was. Those words he had so casually scrawled across that slip changed my life.

I was no longer alone on that base. No longer an hour from my husband with no one to talk to. No longer lonely. No longer homesick. No longer concerned about anything else in the world except my child. No longer sure about anything else except how honored I was to be his mother.

Today, I was pampered with breakfast and homemade cards and tea bags with handprints and hugs and folded laundry. Over the years I’ve received rings and mom bracelets and birthstone jewelry. I’ve been given flowers and chocolate and teddy bears. All gifts from the heart, and all accepted and cherished and appreciated. But I doubt anything will ever top that little pink slip of paper I have stowed away in the basement. It’s pretty faded now almost 14 years later. The folds are threatening to cut it to pieces, and the plus sign is all but gone, but I can still read the scribbled message at the bottom.

My life changed paths that day, and I’ve never looked back. I was given the gift of motherhood.

MG and my cousin’s daughter did very well today at the wedding. The boys were perfect, and the baby slept the whole time. We skipped out of the reception early so as not to ruin the good day.

More in the Gallery.

Soccer games, rehearsal for flower girls, dinners, pictures, wedding…. oh my.

Stay pretty please. Don’t pull that out yet MG. Please don’t roll around on the floor in those dress clothes MBs. How much longer? Man it’s hot mom. Man this is boring mom. Wow, is this God’s house? Now walk nice and slow MG. Please don’t march MG. Who taught her to goose step? No time to run home after the game, must use Nana’s house as Command Central. Not going to be a good day. GoGoGo. RushRushRush. Baby wants fed. Can I whip out a boob in church? Isn’t that foul?

Please let MG do well today. Please don’t let me leak. Please no fighting from the boys. Please no screaming from the wee one. Please no standing on the air vents and therefore blowing up her dress in church for MG. Please no MB4 asking who the guy is on the wall and man whatever did he do to get in trouble from God. Please let me survive this very long day ahead of us.

Please let the reception be open bar.

For every to, there’s a fro.
For every yin, there’s a yang.
For every slip on , there’s a slip off .

Why do I keep buying these type of sandals every year when I know damn well I can’t wear them?

Can’t wear them to drive, as the slip off feature will kick in and could cause major problems if it were to wedge itself in the pedals. Can’t wear it outside, as I must often run after escaping children and scrunching my toes to keep the fuckers on just isn’t good running form. Can’t even wear them in the house, as even casual movement could result in one wrong flip of the foot and send that bitch in the direction of some poor child’s head.

Ok, I might wear them in the house.

I need a fuckin break.

Kids only have 12 more days left of school. I can see a skip in their step now as they head off to the bus in the morning. I see how much trouble they have avoiding eye contact with Mr Window in the afternoons while trying to force themselves to finish their homework. Their bodies are no longer sleepy come bedtime, already gearing up for the late nights and the lazy days of summer. I can see sun streaks in MB2’s hair, and he’s already sporting one helluva tan just in time for the pool. Their video games have been replaced with basketballs and soccer balls and footballs and frisbees. The telephone is ignored as they now use their bikes to ride over and talk to their friends instead. Appetites are waning. The koolaid jug is always empty. There is a grill full of food teasing us from somewhere down the road every single night.

I love May.

Many belated birthday wishes to James, who likes to pretend he’s old and evil.

Loot:

card from the kids – MB4’s name on there twice as he tried to get it just right
new summer tops
not even one fight tonight from the brats boys
spotless toy room picked up by my children who also made their beds ‘perfectly’
raincheck for a night at the casino when I feel better
dinner and cleanup taken care of by hubby and children
bag of rolos
box of cheezits

And to top it off, everyone crashed early tonight. That means I have the option to either soak up some me time, or get a helluva lot of sleep.

I’ll regret my decision in the morning.

I made the telephone screening appt with Children’s Mercy – June 2nd. Step one.

I’m feeling much better thanks to mister Nyquil. No more sniffling, sneezing, stuffy head, or fever but I still can’t rest. That’s ok. No longer need a nap since my head is no longer in danger of exploding.

Tink – you there? Thinking about you lately. Hope all is well. I’d send you an email, but you never leave an addy. Don’t blame you, but drop by and say hi every now and then. Yes, I worry. That’s just how it is.

Older boys just got home and wished me a happy birthday. Got a few handmade cards, a kiss, and lots of hugs. Don’t need much more than that.

Getting ready to renew our lease here. Hard to believe it’s been almost a year already. Meanwhile, the old cooky landlords we had at the other house are on their 5th set of renters since we left. Eat shit freaks.

Evaluation gal said I need to make a list of MB4’s quirks. Anything I can think of that may be deemed ‘odd’. No matter how slight or insignificant I think it is. Guess I should get busy on that. Must pee naked - do I list that?

I called and talked to MB4’s doc and nurse yesterday after my head cleared a bit. Doc seemed surprised, and started asking me questions. Like he couldn’t believe he would miss something like that as well. The more I talked, the heavier the silence was on his end. I had already spoke to his nurse, and she said – hard to tell, could go either way. The doc’s answer was about the same. They are referring us to Children’s Mercy in KC. I’m supposed to call them today and get the process started. Guess we’ll go from there. I want to thank everyone for their comments and emails – it helped. It really really helped. My head is still kind of dumbstruck about the whole thing.

This mysterious bug that’s hitting the kids is making the rounds. I feel like absolute shit today. My house is a disaster, and I don’t feel like cleaning it. I did laundry, but I don’t have the energy to fold it. MB2 has a band meeting tonight for the parents, and I don’t feel like going – which will be tricky anyway with MD working late and 3 sick kids to deal with. Then we have to run home and eat real quick and head to MB3’s baseball game at 8pm.

Exactly one hour from now, I’ve been on this planet for 33 years. Although today it feels like twice that long.

MB4 had his kindergarten screening today. Things didn’t go so well. He passed all the tests – it was the whole process itself that gave him trouble.

I’ve known for a few years that MB4 was slightly different than my other children. But I didn’t think he was different enough to warrant checking into it. I saw today that I’ve been really stupid.

But the differences are hard to articulate. They’re not something that everyone notices, or they are perceived differently to those who don’t live with him on a day to day basis. I know how his mind works – we all do. I guess we’ve just adapted to him slowly over the years.

I sat down with the counselors after his screening, and we all agreed that maybe he isn’t ready for school yet. Or not mainstream school anyway. They will work with him during summer camp to see how he reacts to it, and we will start making decisions from there.

Yes, just like my nephew, they think there are definitely autistic tendencies at work here. I guess that’s a nice way of saying – hello lady, call the doc about your boy you’ve sheltered from the world the past 5 years hoping it would magically go away on its own. They were wonderful about it, and seem more than willing to do whatever it takes, but I cannot fucking believe that I haven’t seen it – really seen it – before today.

I know quite a bit about autism simply by paying attention when my sister talks. Michelle has been dealing with doctors and assessments for this as well. How could I have sat here and listened to both of them, and not caught a fucking clue that maybe I should help my own son?

How could I miss the fact that my son has never fucking played a day in his life?? Really played. Oh sure, he loves to build, and he could watch his train go round and round for hours – but that’s not playing. He can whip your ass in Mario Party, and laugh his ass off at Ed, Edd, & Eddie – but that’s not playing.

When we got MG that fake kitchen for her birthday last year – she was two years old. She went right to work making us ‘dinner’. MB4 went right to work trying all the knobs and buttons and lights and sounds. When she delivered our ‘meal’ to us, he looked at her as if she had lost her mind. He then followed her around for 20 minutes asking her over and over to admit that there really wasn’t any food, it was just pretend. But she was two, and ignored him. He stayed on her ass about until it was time for bed. He still does this whenever she ‘makes’ anything for us to ‘eat’ during the day. He doesn’t grasp the concept of pretend.

Which leads us to his literal-ness. Yeah, that’s a word. You can’t tell him to drop it when he’s following her around like that. He tell you he isn’t holding anything. He takes everything you do or say at face value. There is no gray in his world. He doesn’t understand that it even exists.

He thinks that adults are on the same level as children. No, that’s not right either. To say that would imply that he has made the conscious effort to put everyone the same, and he hasn’t. He simply views everyone that way. Same with any situation. To him, life is the same. There are a set of rules that you follow for everything. He doesn’t think twice about getting up to use the restroom here – so why should he have to raise his hand at school? He’ll do it because I told him to – but I can see the wheels in his head trying to understand the reasons behind it.

Shit, I could list his quirks all day. Fact remains, I’ve always known about them, and didn’t do a damn thing about it. I stuck my head in the sand and hoped it would fix itself. What a wonderful mom I am.

More in the Gallery.

Spent all morning listening to MD talk to his old Army pal on the phone. Now I get to spend all day looking at the smile on his face.

Life is really good.