I have a pretty nice wardrobe left over from my working days. Lots of business casual. Lots of cocktail dresses. Lots of formals. Lots of killer sexy clothes guaranteed to start a few motors.

Unfortunately, it would seem that I was the size of a Keebler elf in my working days, and none of that shit fits me anymore. None of it. Well, unless my boobs are supposed to peek through the buttons in the front. And the flab on my ass is supposed to peek out from underneath the skirt. And there aren’t control tops in this world made strong enough to suck this roll in.

Fuck it. I’m just going to sit here and pout.

Ever been stuck in a dress? Ever been there with your arms jutting straight out the top while you try to use the rest of your body to wriggle the mother fucker off of you before every drop of oxygen is squeezed from your body? Ever had to humiliate yourself by hollering for help from your 9 year old because he’s not quite old enough to notice and be traumatized forever by seeing your ass hanging out of a thong but is tall enough to reach the scissors on the top shelf to help cut the fucking dress off of you?

Me neither.

I am forbidden to be anywhere near this computer for the rest of the day. My friend is coming into town in exactly 8 hours, and I must prepare for her arrival. This means extra special cleaning the day of – nothing else will do for guests. Usually means a grocery store trip as well to pick up those ‘make them comfortable in our home’ items – their beverage of choice, snacks, special needs (juice for diabetic pal), etc. Today I also have to grocery shop and run my errands, so it’s especially busy.

And then somewhere after all this activity, I must get ready. That means get ready. Bath, lotion, special shave, nails. Actually curl hair. Apply night time makeup. Cuss and cry while trying to find the right dress.

Yes folks – MD and I are going out tonight. The surprise from my friend was a very generous gift certificate for dinner and a night of babysitting, and I honestly thought we’d just save it for later. Much later. MD is working in NE this week, which means he leaves the house around 4am, and returns around 7pm. He’s pretty tired. His evening consists of dinner, bath, bed. But tonight, he arranged to leave at 4pm so we could start our evening earlier.

Oh yeah, I’m excited. So is MD after I told him what I’m going to do to him the agenda for this evening.

In honor of my blog’s two year anniversary, the archives are back.
For now.

Will give me a chance to read through them.
To reflect.

To see how much our lives have changed.
To show me things about my life or myself that I need to change.
To help me accept and appreciate the things that will never change.

To remind me of the wonderful people I’ve met along the way.
To help me recall the whys and the whats and the wheres and the hows.
Probably remind me why I hid the archives in the first place.

Today: 59F
Tomorrow: 65F
Friday: mid 50s
Saturday: upper 50s

Like something out of a dream……
Perfect reason to unplug for a few days and enjoy life.

Got a new OS for Christmas, so I’ve spent the past few days hosing and reinstalling and organizing and all that good stuff. All I have left to do is straighten up this music mess I’ve created the past few years. I burn, but don’t label. I upload, but don’t label. See a pattern? A problem? Yeah, I have close to 40 CDs, and 9GB of music, but I have no fucking clue where anything is.

But, I have always kept my favorites close by. No matter what – I make sure they stay with me. Except, I just realized that my lullabye is gone ….. and well, I am starting to freak the fuck out.

I listen to Big*Log every night. Every single night. Yes, the cheese-y one by Plant. Bite my ass. I love it. I absolutely fucking have to have it. It relaxes me. Those first few chords create instant Calm, and I can head to bed happy.

I’m not happy right now. Nosirreebob. I can’t find it. I know the CD is in this house somewhere, but I can’t find it. MG probably swiped it for use as a tea party platter. OMHell, if she scratches it….

I tried looking for a place to buy the download, but it would seem that MrPlant’s fluffier works aren’t on the menu anywhere – not that I can find, at least. I even contemplated popping into NeverAgainLand to nab it, but the thought of soiling up my fresh puter with that filth makes my skin crawl. Was even about to buy the whole damn album online – until I realized that it’d be shipped to me, and that won’t work for tonight. I need a download dammit. Just Damn.

DamnDamnDamn.

Seriously. Get some.

Can’t wrap my mind around that number. My thoughts are with them.

We are suffering from some serious hard water, and I am not sure how to fix it.

I could start a fire by rubbing my arms together. Or MB4’s hands. MB3’s legs. You get the picture. How do I soften the water? Or somehow add moisture to it? Oatmeal baths thingys? Oil after the bath? I have some high dollar hand repair therapy shit, but even it’s no match for this dryness. It hurts to move my arms because they rub against my sleeve. This is serious business.

Any ideas?

MG fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. I went to carry her upstairs, and immediately noticed her skin. Pale with flushed cheeks. Please no. Bent down and used my trusty cheek to check her head, and sure enough… dammit all to hell.

Please let this be gone before Christmas.
Please let this be gone before Christmas.
Please let this be gone before Christmas.

And don’t let it spread to anyone else either….

Kids are home for the holidays. Means I’ll be too busy hollering and bitching and cleaning and breaking up fights to post here much. That means I should wish everyone a Happy Holiday now, and so I will….

Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas
Happy New Year’s
[Insert Holiday Here]

I hope the year’s end finds you blessed, and what’s more –
I hope you realize it.

NO, I don’t need a cheap fucking watch!!!!!!!!!!!!

We were given the honor and responsibility of judging the Christmas decorations for the town next to us. I do not recommend this as a family activity.

It’s a PITA to visit every single house in a town – no matter how small. Especially when you drive for 30 minute stretches of time where there are no real decorations to speak of, and it pisses you off that you wasted precious life minutes that you’ll never get back, and then you start to get angry about losing life minutes and it causes you to direct your evil eye toward the innocent we tried to decorate but failed fucking miserably’s throughout town, and you start handing out Charlie Brown awards and then you change it to the WhyDidYouEvenFuckingBotherAwards and your son joins in with his own WhiteTrashChristmasAwards only he sings his award in a pitchy drawn out whine that hunches your shoulders whenever he sings it and he keeps singing over and over because there are nothing but fucking hicks on the outskirts of town and you swear to him if he sings it one more time you will leave his ass out there for the hicks to play with and he’s left wondering what the fuck that means…

Where was I?

Oh yeah… and it’s a PITA to go back to the houses you looked at in the beginning, because you realized your expectations are a little higher than they should have been, and those houses that were originally marked as 7’s & 8s, are now heavy contenders for the prize.

The town we live in decks the fuck out. Ok, not us. But others. Lots of others. And the best of the best here would drop you to your knees. That’s what we were waiting for. That’s what we were making our comparisons to. That didn’t happen. That doubled our time in the car with children who had already drinked it all gone and needed more, and they were sitting next to the ones who really can’t hold it anyanymore – probably because they had drinked it all gone too.

Then we fought, because that’s just what you do in a van when the minutes turn into hours. Then we got pissy and started attacking each other’s seeing abilities [read: are you fu-cking bliiiiiiiind?].

We couldn’t narrow down the top 3. We were judging on creativity, neatness/effort, wow factor, and originality. There were four houses that fit top billing for each. So we debated. Then we came home and debated some more. Then we fought. Not a get your shit and get out kind of fight, but pretty intense for a bunch of decorations.

We finally reached a decision when MD and MB1 left for the store and said don’t you dare call in the winners yet and I thought they said pick the winners cuz you know best and ooopsie it’s too fucking late to change our minds now and thank gawd because everyone knows that a garden of santa heads on sticks does NOT say winner in any language.

Shudder

Made these for my parents for Christmas. Harder than hell to buy for people who really don’t need or want anything. They have a huge walk through garden section in their backyard, and MD is going to place these stepping stones in it while I create a diversion on Christmas Day. Got the idea from a few gals on my playgroup board. I think I might make some for us here at home.

[Yes, those are the kids' footprints.]

Ok, I added their school pics to the December album, although the pics were a month or so ago. Yeah, I’m lame. Sue me.

I haven’t taken many pics lately. Then again, I still have a POS memory card too. Getting a larger one is next on my wish list. Once I can take more pics, I will.

Anyhow…

MB4’s school pic shows his famous eyebrow shot.

MB4 noticed today …. realized today ….. understood today, that we all share the same last name. You could see the light bulb go on in his mind. He became very excited as his mind raced around trying to absorb the relationship between families and last names and all that jazz. Every kiddo learns this sooner or later, but I wasn’t expecting him to embrace it like this – I honestly expected a war over having to “share” a last name. Don’t ask.

But there wasn’t a war. He was laughing and eyes were shining and that look of ‘holyshit‘ on his face was just amazing to see. He actually sat with me this morning instead of heading back upstairs to play a bit before the bus picked them up. We talked about Christmas and school parties and what he could expect to happen at both this year. He was so full of questions, trying to figure out this whole ‘Christmas’ thing. I think his literal mind is having trouble with the details of Santa’s existence/arrival/etc, but for the first time ever (probably because it’s Santa), he’s giving the ‘impossibles’ a pass. That’s huge, folks. Huge. Nobody gets a pass with this guy. You screw up one note or one word or one beat in twinkle twinkle little star – your ass is grass. You just try to color the sky purple with my son around, and he’ll chew that crayola’in hand right off yer body. Yet Santa is allowed to fly. Ok, ok – he still raises that eyebrow while we talk – which means he’s smelling something that resembles a huge pile of bullshit – but I’m happy for the lack of correction. I’m happy that he’s not throwing shit while screaming that people can’t fly or travel the world in a night or pop down chimneys…

Happy times.

He’s really been doing so well. Is it because I’ve been reading and reading and busting my ass to think before I deal with him? Maybe. Probably. We’ve all been making a huge effort to try to understand the reasons behind his tantrums, instead of just assuming he’s pissed. Because he’s not – not at all. Most of the time, he’s just confused, and his reaction is to get pissed at the situation – which we assume is directed at us. Educating ourselves is proving to be extremely important, because duh – it just takes one person to stop the cycle. One person willing to make a change.

I’m not saying that life is a bed of roses with him now. Monday I had a shoe thrown at me for helping him take his pajamas off. Wednesday I had a shoe thrown at me for not. He is still ignoring his teacher when his brain tunes out. He is still not playing with the kids at school. He still has 10 meltdowns a day…

But we’re getting there. Slowly.

While the school does their own evaluation – his wonderful teacher simply follows his lead when he gets ‘like that’. When our search to find a social group for him in this area failed, we decided that we would be his social group for now. We’ll educate ourselves more about how they run, invite some of our friends along, and we’ll bust our asses to show him how this world works. And while his doctor finds the 52000 therapists he needs for the spectrum shit and the ocd shit and the OT shit and the speech/pragmatic shit – we’ll do our part to step in and teach him. Help him to ‘get it’. Use every day as a learning experience. Every hour.

Was all very overwhelming at first. Still is, given the fantastic schedule we have anyway with 6 kiddos…but then I realized that we’re not really doing anything different. Nothing too terribly time-consuming or difficult. We teach our kids to walk and talk and piss on the side of the road on a cross country trip miles and miles from the next rest stop. We instill and insist upon values and morals and manners. We explain thunderstorms and point out cloud creatures and help construct the perfect snowman. We help with math and science and relationships. We’re there to discuss periods and sex and hygiene….

Why is it any different to teach a kid like MB4 how to say Good Morning when he wakes up? Or how to not interrupt people, and the why’s behind waiting for them to finish? Or to sit down and people watch for an afternoon at the park, and try to figure out how people are feeling by the expressions on their faces? Or where to stand while talking to someone so that you don’t invade personal space? Or how to sometimes just accept things as unexplainable….or imperfect….or illogical?

Not saying it will be easy. I already know that. Took two weeks to finally make him understand what it meant to interrupt someone – and even then it literally took MB1 and MB3 acting out a little skit with MB2 as the Interrupter to show MB4 what interrupting looks like – what it means. Not sure he knew before. And he still has to be reminded that he’s doing it, but he’s actually waiting now when you bring it to his attention, instead of screaming and throwing shit and hiding in the laundry room for an hour because we ‘hate him and didn’t answer (right away)’.

Last night when I was on the phone, I heard him holler my name. I was about to remind him when I heard him whisper to himself …. ‘wait a second, she’s on the phone‘…

He has given me back my hope, and that’s one helluva Christmas present.

That other company made their offer, but it turns out those great hours won’t be so great after this wave of new hires. Am I surprised? Not really. MD has been real hesitant the past three days anyway. Just all of a sudden. Said he wasn’t getting a good vibe the closer he came to changing paths, but he chalked it up to nerves.

He asked for a few days to consider the offer, and told his boss that the deliberations were underway and he would let him know what he decided to do tomorrow after we discussed it a bit. Boss played the HolyShitHeWasn’tKiddingMadScramble, and matched the pay. Now granted, it’s not that much extra money, but it was enough to clear MD’s head and lighten his step. He’s one loyal sumbitch, even to those not-so-deserving.

So, we stay. It feels right to MD, and that’s all that matters. We’ll still get that house someday.

MB3 was playing spider solitaire just a bit ago on my computer, when the new email notifier thingymajig popped up. Sport thought he was being helpful, so he shot on over to my inbox to relay the message for me.

“Hey mom, do you want a facial for Christmas?”

Wha? You now have my attention. I put the baby down and make my way through a maze of laundry to reach the computer. ‘Hey Sneaky Pants, don’t be reading my mail’

He smiles, but doesn’t get up from the chair. Instead, he furrows his brow against the puter screen and leans on in for a closer look.

Oh holy shit. Is he reading it? OMHell, he is. What did he say? Facial? Holy shit. ‘C’mon now, don’t read my mail. It’s rude kiddo. Makes crazy dragon come out to play.’

“But what IS that mom?” His face gets all skew-y and shit…

DammitDammitDammit please don’t let it be a horse dick or something else I’ll have no way to explain to a 9 year old….“STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!”

I yank the chair back he’s sitting in and try to whirl him around to shield his eyes from the screen, but I trip on a fucking basket of cars – no, not that basket, and damn near break my wrist – yeah, the very hurted already wrist – trying to stop my head from careening into the monitor, all the while screeching at him to “STOP! STOP READING MY MAIL!!”

Turns out there other things difficult to explain to a 9 year old.
Like why Avon emails and loofa sponges freak his mom the fuck out.

Was a post on freecycle today from a gal trying to pawn off a basket and a few other items.

Hi, I’m Angie, and I’m a basket whore.

I immediately shot back a reply asking if the basket was large enough to use as a toy-catcher in the living room, and if so – I’d love to take it off her hands.

“You betcha”

Turns out she lives 3 blocks over. Small world. She invites me over to pick it up, and I bounce down the block all giddy and shit because I’m about to welcome a new basket baby to the family.

Baby is right.

Sumbitch woman, is you ignert? Remember the whole ‘toy-catcher/you betcha’ thing? That ring a bell? I hate to sound ungrateful and all, but Thumbelina’s parents would have trouble tossing a few of her toys into this bitch.

“Hmm, not as big as I remembered. Here’s my Home/Garden catalog – I’m sure we sell larger ones that you could use.”

I felt so violated. What a deceptive, heartless bitch to use the allure of an innocent basket to spread her filthy fingerhut-ish seed. I smiled sweetly, made my way to the door, and thanked her for the offer….

“But I’m only into free shit.”

It’s amazing to watch expressions as they morph across one’s face.
Art, really.

I found your blog because your blog is the “Nominee of the Day: Best Mommy Blog” at the Bob Awards.

I assume I’m the last one to know about this contest? Figures…

There’s room here under my rock if anyone wants to join me.

MB1 and MB2 are letting their hair … hairs? …. wtf chuck? …… not cutting the shit on top of their heads. Looks like a fucking grunge fest around here. We have agreed to pick our battles carefully while dealing with these pubescent creatures, so as long as their grades remain honor roll material – they are allowed to explore their identity. And as one who did a lot of exploring of her own once upon a time, I should honestly be thankful that it’s as harmless as this, while I try not to think to the future.

Doesn’t stop me from wanting to scrap family pictures this year…

Got a phone call today from one of my bestest pals. We are spending New Year’s Eve here at the house with a few other friends, and she was confirming our plans. She was going to crash here that night, but called to see if she could come to town a night earlier. Told her no problemo, that she was welcome whenever her ass darkened the doorstep.

It was then that she informed me that MD and I are to be dressed …… dressed that night by 6 o’clock – because that’s when our Christmas/Anniversary present arrives.

?

I was then told that she is staying behind to watch the kiddos for us.

?

Now, I don’t know what the fuck she’s done, as she wouldn’t tell me anything else, but I outta kick her ass for arranging some secret shit for MD and I.

Kick her for making me all emotional like that. Hooker.

What could it be?

I love the hell outta this weather plugin. It’s cute as hell, and I’m usually not a sucker for cute. But it’s irking me today. Just because it’s not snowing, cloudy, windy, or hazy doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a briiiiight briiiight sunshine-y day.

A full out yellow sun while the temp reads 30 just doesn’t jive. Not at all.

I think I need to mood-ify some icons.

If I send in payment before the automated system even sends a bill, send an email thanking you for the timely shipping and perfect item, and leave a glowing comment for the world to see – reciprocate.

Ungrateful Stupid Bitch.

When you start feeling sluggish about writing, you just need to write yourself out of it, right? Yeah, whatever…

I’ve been up for an hour. Part of a new arrangement MD and I have. He has to wake up so damn early in the mornings, that our evenings are always cut short by his night night time. So I thought maybe I could get up with him, and at least then we could have some alone time – even if it’s at the asscrack of dawn.

So, we gave it a go last night. I tried to go to bed at 10pm with him, but the wee one and MG weren’t having that shit a’tall. So, I let MissSassyMouth wear herself out until damn near 1am, and I am waiting with impish grin for 6:30 to roll around so I can pull a drill sgt jones on her ass. And I’ll be waiting for her to escape into napland all day as well – sorry sweetheart, no can do. Let’s see what time she goes to bed tonight.

Actually kind of nice this morning. Most of my major cleaning is already done. Laundry is started. I’m dressed. I’m wide awake. I’ve already checked the planner and arranged my day. And I still have 30 minutes until I wake up the kids. Maybe I’ll read a book. Wow. Uninterrupted reading. I could get used to this.

I write something, and then I erase it. I bore myself these days.

We’re always looking for new ideas to add to our holiday traditions each year.

Tell me about yours.

The background & certification checks should take 2-3 days, and then we should hear something. He thinks it went well. Time will tell.

MD’s at the interview right now. Thanks for the thoughts – I hope this all works out for the best. Trying not to jinx anything, or leave it wide open for God to step in and bwahaahaa all over the situation. Whatever happens happens, I guess.

Done shopping. Now to wrap. Barf.

My left wrist has been killing me off and on for a year or so now. It has always gone away with a little babying before, but it’s been 2 months now, and it’s still bothering me. It was hurting only when I put pressure on it – like picking up a pan or the wee one or using it to help myself up or whatever. Now, it’s throbbing non-stop and giving out when I forget and use it. If it’s because of this fucking computer, there’s nothing they can do for it anyway, right? Guess I’m going to have to break down and have the doc look at it. Damn I hate the doctor.

Alright, back to pacing the floor.

If you could send a simple positive thought MD’s way, I’d appreciate it. Hell, I’ll actually kiss your ass.

He has an interview with another company this week. He wasn’t really looking for a job. Offer last week was out of the blue from a supplier, and he stumbled across this one while talking to a friend yesterday. This company pays even better than the first one. Not only that, but they are able to rake in an obscene amount of overtime, and it’s closer to home than his current job.

He wants this one, and I want him to have it. It would mean I finally get a house. Considering you all had enough mojo to open up my cervix last year, this should be a piece of cake.

I appreciate the ‘label’ we have now for MB4, as I now have the green light to devour these books to try and find some solutions and strategies for our life. I had asked why it seemed as though he was getting worse, and was told that he’s merely getting older and increasing the distance between his actual age and his functioning age. That tells me we need to get a move on. We need to help him. Need to learn how to help him help himself….

Outside of school, the hidden curriculum is an even bigger issue. For example, a nice restaurant:
1) call ahead for reservations
2) wait to be seated
3) waiter brings menu
4) etc

What if AS student generalizes the above to McDonald’s? How long will they wait to be seated?

But I still squeeze my eyes shut real tight and try to hide from the world for a few seconds when I read something like that. Or shake my head at the stupid tears that try to attack me. It’s that peek into his world that flashes when I least expect it. It’s fascinating and disturbing and lonely and logical and sad and telling all at the same time.

And then I’m over it and I read on…

Almost done Christmas shopping. Bought more than I thought would be possible, and I’m elated. Everyone is getting what they asked for, with a few surprises thrown as well. None of that selfish shit like last year, although I suspect that’s only because they are on alert now that the dragon is awake.

MD was offered a job with better pay, better hours, and better work. But as luck would have it – the better hours means no overtime. No overtime means less money – even with better pay. And the less money is less enough to make my stomach lurch and my head spin when thinking about the budget. Add in the fact that this job is 90 minutes away, and what that would mean with these shitty gas prices – and MD is wishing he had never got the phone call. Poor guy. I wish there was a way to make it happen, but there just isn’t right now. Neither one of us wants to take that many steps backwards. I mentioned getting a part time job to offset the pay, but he knows how hard that would make our life. I wish there was a way to make this happen for him. I hate that he works so hard.

C’mon Powerball.

I feel amazingly content the past few days. That’s how I know the blahs are on the way out. Can’t think of one damn thing to be thankful for or excited about when I’m down, let alone feel any sort of contentment. I fucking hate feeling like that. It’s so…depressing.

Anyfuckingway…..

Spent the weekend revamping our family planner. Well oiled machine, I tell ya. The end result of incorporating my task sheets and cleaning lists into ThePlanner so I didn’t have both ThePlanner and MyPlanner evoke serious wood. You figure it out.

House is clean. Clothes are laid out for tomorrow. Laundry is done. Kids are playing quietly. MD is warming up my spot on the couch so we can settle in to watch some tv. Might even get a bit later.

Life is so damn good sometimes.

Spending a great deal of time reading lately. We have several books from the interchange library about Asperger’s, Tantrums, and OCD, and we only have until the 15th to read them all. Most have been too word-y to even attempt to translate the information into real world situations, but this last one is fantastic.

AspergerSyndrome & DifficultMoments (Practical Solutions for Tantrums/Rage/Meltdowns). At just around 100 pages, it’s not an incredibly detailed book, but it’s extremely clear and informative. And not just about dealing with tantrums either. It starts out explaining the reasons behind them, which, in effect, gives a perfect explanation of how their minds work in general. I personally don’t have the patience to read and absorb those meatier books. I can use this one’s teachings right now. Immediately, without any conversion or thought. I will definitely buy this sucker.

Talked to MB4’s pediatrician yesterday. His oldest son has Asperger’s, so he knows all about local services, doctors, social groups, etc – or he knows that there aren’t any, I should say. None. His son is in college now, so he’s out of the loop anyway (for the most part) but he said to give him a few days to make some calls for me. Said he will ‘hold my hand’ and make sure MB4 gets the help he needs because he knows first hand what can/will happen if he doesn’t. I felt a large punch in the gut when he said that, but I didn’t dare ask him to elaborate.

As for me, I am feeling better and better every day. I don’t feel down now at all, and I’ve only barked a few times the past couple days. I was starting to feel a little zoom-y yesterday, but it passed pretty quickly. I feel….centered. I’ve also noticed that wee one is nursing more – which may account for something. How the hell I’m going to get that boy to wean here pretty soon is beyond me. I really don’t want to. Maybe I’ll go see the doc, but hold off on the meds until my little man weans on his own. He is my last baby doll. I don’t want anything rushed. He’s growing up too damn fast as it is.

You know that bitch that pops in out of nowhere to outbid you by a fucking nickel?

Yeah, that’s me.
Thanks.