Be A Good Mom

A few highlights of the visit:

1.  The Doctor was early! I could not believe it.

2.  The doctor who originally put me on house arrest 4 1/2 years ago when I was pregnant with my twins recently died.  I always liked him.  He was very grandfatherly.  I think he put me on “modified bed-rest” back then because he thought I deserved it, not because I needed it.  That was very nice of him.   Unfortunately, while he was not on call when I delivered Pookie and Geetle, he was the one who came into the room that night to forcibly squeeze the grape-fruit sized blot clots from my uterus.   That is my last real memory of him.  He was determined to push down on my just-delivered uterus and squeeze the blot clots out manually.  He said I would never stop bleeding any other way.  I was determined to stop him and actually arm-wrestled with him somewhat, trying to get him to stop, while screaming the whole time.  I am a grin-and-bear-it kind of patient, but that whole blood clot thing was PAIN and if I could have gotten out of that bed and hid, I would have.  Worse pain than the delivery.  So, there he is was trying to help me and I was literally wrestling with him while screaming at him.   Closest thing I have ever had to a real fist fight.  And it was with this nice grandfatherly doctor.  And now he is dead.

3.  I only gained 3 pounds this time.

4.  The doctors schedule these prenatal appointments for ten minutes.  They do not really expect to spend much time with you.  So, when they ask “do you have any questions?”  and you say “nope” why do they look at you with disbelief and confusion?  I am just riding my time out, buddy.  I don’t have any questions.  Thanks for asking, but I have been through this before.  Plus, I am pretty hard to rattle these days.  I am not going to ask you if I can play paintball or if the wart on my little finger is a complication of pregnancy.  I already know that I can keep the swelling in my feet down by drinking more water and sitting more often.  I already know who to call when I feel any contractions.  I got it.  Just check the heartbeat, BP and urine, bill Blue Cross and lets go.

Here are photos from the kids’ first days of school. I know, I know…they are digital, so I should have posted them sooner. Both kids have been in school for at least 10 days. But, sometimes when you are 8 months pregnant and the memory card is on one floor and the computer is on the other, its difficult to get your act together.

By the way, if you have a plain old flat panel metal door in your house, consider painting it with Chalkboard paint. This door goes to our garage and is right next to one that leads down stairs. (we put a dozen cork board tiles on that one for an instant huge bulletin board). The chalkboard door is cool because on their birthday or the first day of school, I make them stand in front of the door and I write a message up above. Good photo - op.

One of the funny things about Autism is that Pookie has a set of rules in his mind that he thinks govern all things. We are learning these rules and they have really helped us relate to him and understand why he does certain things. Some of his rules are:

1. Everything that has a beginning, must have an end. If he is flipping through a book, he cannot leave until he has turned the last page. He cannot leave in the middle of a puzzle or a song. He can leave in the middle of a free-structure activity like block building or trains. These things he understand to be on-going, with no real beginning or end. But, he prefers to sit in his booster seat until the song finishes on the car radio. He prefers to bring the half finished puzzle with him if he is forced to change rooms. Our response is to respect his desire to see things through. We sit in the driveway until the song finishes. We tell him to finish his book and then come to the table. He does.
2. When something is available in a wide range of colors, these items should be grouped together and sorted. Pookie likes to draw. But sometimes he cannot get past the sheer number of colors available and he seeks to organize them into a proper pattern. He lines up the markers, usually in rainbow order. He adjusts the group until they are just right and then messes them up, so that he can organize them again. Our response is to limit the number of color choices. We put out just 4 markers, 2 for him and 2 for Geetle. If they want more, they have to trade a color in. This keeps him on track.
3. When things are new, its best to look for an old pattern to help you understand what to do. Actually, we all do this, right? To Pookie this means that if he does not understand what to do in a certain situation, he guesses or just uses muscle memory. For example, he usually puts the milk back in the fridge for us after dinner. He is also asked to put away ketchup, butter, etc, depending on the meal. If I were to ask him to put away crackers, he would put them in the fridge too, because that is where most everything else goes. Our strategy is to give him clear instructions for new situations.
4. Things have logical partners or groupings. If given a deck of flash cards, Pookie will alphabetize them. If given 3 balls, one red, one yellow and one green, Pookie will ask where the blue one is. If he finds Bob the Tomato under the TV stand, he will run around the house until he finds Larry the Cucumber. Our strategy is to understand this, but do our best to keep him from becoming too rigid. For example, we will tell him that there is no blue ball, just play with the other ones. He will hesitate, and usually ask for the blue ball one more time, but soon he will be happy to play without it.

Pookie’s echolalia causes him to pick up some unique phrases. Once they are stored in his memory, he uses them in various situations, whenever he feels they are appropriate. This often makes us laugh. For instance, when he is being dramatic and announcing something of extreme importance (in his mind) he might yell “1…2…3…Care Bear Stare!” An obscure reference lost on many of his peers, I am sure. But people of my generation laugh.

I saw this comic strip on line today. I clicked thru a few pages, thinking they were all pretty funny. I nearly fell off my chair when I saw the Care Bear one. In general, most comics are funny; they become hilarious when you have some personal connection to the topic. I bet this comic is not *your* favorite, but if you click around on the site, you will probably find one that speaks to you. These comics remind me of The Far Side, back in the day. I like ‘em.

By reading this, you are sworn to secrecy. Remember that.

Winnie III has died. BAGD and I came upon her in her final hours yesterday. She was laying on her side and panting. It was very sad. We offered the best Hamster Hospice care that we could and left her to die in peace. Now, we have a dilemma. Same one we have faced before, but with a twist.

BAGD’s uncle recently bought his kids a hamster. A week or so after they got her home, she gave birth to 7 babies. Quite a surprise. The pet store offered to take them back, but he is going to keep them a while and see what happens. So, we need a hamster…he has 7 extras to get rid of.

Do we tell the kids that Winnie died? Do we let them pick out one of Uncle’s new hamsters, to cushion the blow? Or do we replace Winne III in the same manner that we replaced Winnie Uno and Winnie Duece?

We decided to sneak in a new Winnie 4.0. We felt that Geetle would be Ok with Winnie III’s death and could get behind picking out one of Uncle’s new hamsters for her very own. But those hamsters are just 14 days old right now. So when we took our new hamster home, he/she would be no more than a month old and pretty fragile. What if he/she died too? That would be 2 deaths to handle within a very short period of time.

So, Winnie III is “at the groomers” right now. Sometime this week, BAGD will go and pick up Winnie 4.0 and bring her home….back from “the groomer’s.” Only you, me and BAGD will know the truth.

I would like to offer this eulogy to Winnie III. Winnie, of all the Winnies, you were my favorite. After seeing how you ran around in your wheel and ball, I can hardly believe that your little hamster heart gave out on you. You seemed so physically fit. You were very friendly and the kids loved you. We will help your memory live on.

When we went out to dinner for my birthday recently, we sat near another family who had a 4 year old and a 1 year old. The kids seemed to be well-behaved. I did not really even notice them until I heard the following:

Mom: Should I call Grandpa and tell him to come pick you up?

4 year old: mumble mumble

Mom: Ok, well if you are going to be naughty I will just call him to come take you home. (picking up cell phone and dialing) Grandpa? Can you come pick Maya up? She needs to go home, she is not behaving. OK, we will see you in 5 minutes.

4 year old: mumble mumble

10 minutes or so passes. I do not really hear any trouble coming from the table. But then:

Mom: OH! Look at that! I just saw Grandpa’s car out front. He is coming in here to take you home because you cannot behave.

4 year old: mumble mumble. Ha Ha.

Although this exchange is comical, this mother was NOT joking. So, by now, I am figuring out that Grandpa is not coming. She never really called him. I bet the 4 year old figured it out before I did. What kind of parenting is that!? Number one, the kid never fell for it, only me. Number two, how is that fair to Grandpa, to be looked upon as The Enforcer? Number three, while its a creative threat, its alot more work than just standing up, taking the kid by the hand, walking them to the lobby and explaining that they will NOT be coming back to the table unless they behave. If they continue to misbehave, then either Mom or Dad asks for a doggy bag and takes the kid out to the car and eats their dinner while the little stinker fumes in the carseat.

Moral of the Story: Never make a threat you are not prepared to enforce. Don’t get too creative with your punishments because they may be logistically impossible to carry out. Keep it simple.

A picture of my well-behaved kids:

If I had a picture of that Maya, I would put it here too. I don’t think she was misbehaving. The Olive Garden would not have put wine glasses on the table and wheels on the chairs if they did not expect a little bit of horseplay. Any restaurant that has a basket of crayons at the hostess stand expects a bit of nonsense from the younger clientele. I think Maya’s mom was having a bad day. Maya seemed to be doing OK, in my opinion.

We visited the new birthing center at our hospital a few weeks ago. Alot had changed and we wanted to see the impressive new space. I thought it would be sort of like a fun museum tour. I forgot that they also use these tours to talk about the actual delivery process, point out the monitors and stirrups, and generally scare the crap out of the preggies. I have delivered before…twins…vaginally…in an operating room with lots of machines and pointy things. But, I tend to gloss over those memories in my mind. I don’t focus on the pain, all the blood I lost, the procedure I had to have 2 days later to stop the bleeding, the catheter, the IVs, etc. But taking that tour brought it all back. Now I am freaked out again. I really am not looking forward to the *actual* delivery.

Luckily, I stumbled upon this website today, which is just gross and disturbing enough to help me take my mind off the delivery. Funny how that works.

In case you are wondering, I will be leaving my placenta at the hospital.

Elimination Communication.

I have heard of this early potty training thing before. At the time, my main thought was that it must only work for people who are NEVER separated from their baby for any length of time.

Now, I am almost 8 months pregnant. We have 90% potty trained our son, who has autism. It was the biggest challenge we have overcome to date and we still have just a bit more road to travel.  I also still have to remind our NT (neurotypical- the cool buzz word that parents of autistic children use for non-autistic children) daughter to go before we leave the house and the store. Personally….I can’t wait for the diapers. Oh the freedom! You have to pee? Well, go right ahead. That’s why I put a diaper on ya! When Pookie or Geetle has to go, we GO! We abandon our grocery cart in the frozen foods aisle, we do a Dukes of Hazard move to pull into the nearest highway gas station, we skip to the head of lines. Their bladder control is good, but its not time to test it yet.

So, when the baby comes, I can let her pee anywhere, anytime she wants! I can’t wait!

Out local Petco pet store held hamster races the other day. Geetle had seen the flyer on a trip to the store with BAGD. He read it to her and she memorized it. The date, the time, the place. She talked about it for weeks and told everyone we were going. Unfortunately, BAGD had a football game that day, and I was in charge. So, we went to watch, but Winnie could not participate. (Pregnant women are supposed to avoid touching rodents and reptiles)

We invited our playdate friends to join us. The races drew 5 competitors. The races were real nail-biters. Sometimes the hamsters went the wrong way. Sometimes they stopped to groom or poop and would not get started again. After several heats, the winner was Cookie the Hamster. She won her very own hamster ball track.

Pookie and Geetle sat on the floor with the small but excited crowd. They clapped and cheered. They really liked it. I was impressed with Geetle’s ability to focus on this event, long term. Just today she asked me to read her a story and then got up and walked away on page 4. But with the Hamster Races, she was focused. She knew the date, she kept track for over a week. She claimed her seat on the floor like it was the first row of Radio City Music Hall. She clapped and cheered politely for all the competitors. After the races, she came home to tell Winnie about it, and that she was going to race next time.

Pookie also did great. I was pleased to see him clap and cheer as well. He also got down very low, so that he could actually see the hamsters little feet run by. He kept creeping inch by inch closer to the race track, out of excitement. I had to reel him in a few times, but that was no big deal.

For the record…..Winnie would have smoked Cookie. She is definitely racing next time. Geetle has it all figured out. She will be at the start line to let Winnie go and Pookie will stand at the finish line to stop her.

Any idea what I can do with 8 boxes of table salt?

About a month ago, we were afraid we had a flea problem. Chloe (Mamaw’s dog) had come to visit and started to show signs of fleas a few days later. We also caught a jumping bug in the basement and one in the second floor. Plus, I had bites on my ankles, which we thought were Prurigo of Pregnancy at first.

Being 6 1/2 months pregnant at the time, we knew we could not use a bug bomb and smoke the fleas out. And we were not completely sure we even had fleas. I had bites, but no one else did. The doctor said they looked like chigger bites and we did have a patch of long grass in our backyard, perfect for chiggers. We saw 2 jumping bugs, but they did not look like what we saw on the internet. We did not know what to do.

We did some internet research and decided to start with low-tech methods of handling the situation. We washed all the bedding in hot water. BAGD vacuumed the house almost daily. Then we read that sprinkling regular table salt on your carpets could desiccate any flea eggs in the fibers. We decided to give it a try. We sprinkled 6 or 7 boxes of salt all over the house and vacuumed it up a a day and a half later. According to the article, we should do this again in a week or so.

Well….as with many things around here, we sort of got distracted and forgot. I bought 8 more boxes of salt, but we saw no more jumping bugs, my bites went away and Chole seemed cured. So, we never re-salted.

Over a month has passed, so either we never had fleas or the vacuuming and first salting did the trick. But now I have 8 boxes of table salt sitting around. Any ideas on how I can use it up?