2012: Looking Back

Looking back over the last year, I can hardly believe the blessings in my life. The Princess's accomplishments alone absolutely amaze me.

Each year, I make a special photo book of all of the things that have happened with our girl, which we give to our families as Christmas gifts. The books follow her progress and growth throughout the year, and there's always a recap at the end, written from her perspective. As I sit here and look back at 2012, marveling at all we've done, nothing seems more appropriate to share with you than this year's book recap:

This was a really big year for me.  Momma and Da are very proud of the things I've accomplished. Some of these things are:

Potty training...I haven't worn a Pull-Up (except at night) in months.

Mimicking...this is the first step toward language, something doctors and other professionals have been watching and hoping for since I was really, really young.  I now mimic many actions, and one of the major things I've learned is how to wave bye-bye.

Following directions...this is a biggie.  One really good example is that I can now walk on the trails at the state park without holding Momma or Da's hand.  With a lot of practice, I've learned to follow simple verbal directions when we are out and about.

Swimming...this is the best part of this whole year, as far as I'm concerned.  This summer, I spent so much time in the water.  Momma and Da worked with me every single day, and by August I could swim from one parent to the other when they stood ten to fifteen feet apart in water that was over my head.

And now comes the sappy.  Nana, grab your tissues.  You know how you get.

If you're reading this, it's because you're very special to me.  I may not speak English on my own yet, but Momma feels confident in telling you that I love you very much.  You accept me for who I am, and I don't think I could ever ask for any more than that.

I am so unbelievably proud of my girl, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have such a fantastic support system.  Since the going got tough around here a few years ago, so many of you have stepped up and really proven to me how wonderful human beings can be.  I've also found out how selfish and insensitive people can be, but y'all more than make up for that.  I didn't need those other folks, anyway.

One of the things that people said left and right around the time of The Princess's diagnosis was that God never gives us any more than we can handle.  I wrote this off as a canned response parroted by well-meaning people who love us and don't know what else to say.  Now, more than three years after her diagnosis, The Princess shows me every day that this is true.  I can't imagine what my life would be like today without her and her autism.  I've grown in ways I never knew were possible, and I am very proud to stand before you as the person I am today.

I feel truly blessed, and I am looking forward to this coming new year with a glimmer in my eye and hope in my heart.

A Better Christmas Gift

After a week away on business, Nana and Grampy picked me up from the airport on Saturday afternoon.  The Hubbs and The Princess were waiting for us back at their house, and I couldn't get there fast enough.

I was out of that car like a shot, careening up the stairs into the great room and singing out my girl's name.  She was stimming on some blocks in the middle of the room, right next to her ten-month-old cousin, E.

At the sound of my voice, she stopped what she was doing.

Turned to look at me.

Smiled.

Said, "Momma."

Ran across the room and into my arms.

I honestly can't think of a better Christmas gift.

Pity

"And what about The Princess?  Is she totally excited for Santa Claus to come?  What does she want this year?"

...asked everyone I've ever known.  I know it's not meant to affect me the way it does - I know this - but my reaction is not a logical one.

I get all prickly every time I am asked one of these questions, or any of the hundreds of variations on them.  Another favorite: "Does she just love to talk to you on the phone when you're out of town?  I bet she gabs your ear off..." or some other such seemingly harmless smalltalk.

We'll address these one at a time.  Here, my dear readers, are the answers to what seem - at least lately - to be the most commonly asked questions about my sweet little Princess.

No, she is not totally excited for Santa Claus to come.  The fact of the matter is that I don't even know if she has any idea who he is.  Or if she's retained any of the mythology, can she even wrap her little head around the concept?  These are things I may never know, and I am okay with this. 

I have no worldly idea what she wants for Christmas this year.  She does not ask me for things.  She does not flip through toy catalogs like other children her age.  She does not play Internet games or while away the hours with YouTube or Apple apps.  She is perfectly happy playing with the toys she has owned since she was a baby.  There are a few notable exceptions that have been allowed into the club as late entries, but the vast majority of her preferred playthings are plastered with age range labels that have long been left in our dust.  She is happy.  I am happy.  Please do not concern yourself with whatever the "next big thing" may be for little girls of a certain age.  No one in my house knows or cares about them.  Yes, I am asking for practical things for her for Christmas.  No, it is not sad.  End of story.

No, she does not just love to talk to me on the phone when I'm out of town.  She doesn't really seem to understand the concept.  More and more as she gets older, it seems as though she's recognizing the voices that come out of phones, but she has no interest in holding the phone at all.

No, she does not gab my ear off.  She doesn't speak. 

And stop it with the pitying looks when I answer you honestly.  You asked.  I'm not going to lie.  We are content - couldn't be happier, actually - with our lives.  My girl is not an unfortunate victim of some huge, horrible diagnosis.

She is my girl.

And I love her.

If you don't really want to know what's going on with me and my family, do us both a favor by refraining from asking the questions altogether. 

Don't you dare make me feel anything but blessed by what I have.

I wouldn't trade a second of this life for anything.  And if you can't understand that, I should be the one pitying you.

Butterscotch

The Princess's beloved Uncle D dropped by for a visit this weekend.  It's been a while since our girl has seen him, and she had a great time listening to him play the piano and showing him all of the new things she can do since they last hung out.

Mid-afternoon, The Princess headed over to The Grumps' house so Momma, Da and Uncle D could go to the Christmas With Friends party over at Auntie T's place.  She played and bossed her grumparents around.  I played and bossed the boys around.

Good times.

On the way home, the three of us ended up at Jewel.  In a late-night display of sheer brilliance, Uncle D purchased a gigantic - and I mean this guy is HUGE, y'all - teddy bear.  We proceeded to strap the bear into the back seat of the car for the ride home, where he was respectfully placed in his rightful spot.

Butterscotch - that's his name, by the way - patiently waited.

A few hours after Uncle D headed back home, so did The Princess.  Completely unassuming, she walked into the house and sat in her Winnie the Pooh armchair in the living room, digging into her fruit snacks with a vengeance.

As soon as she had finished, The Hubbs and I asked her to come meet someone new in her room.

The very moment she laid eyes on him, she couldn't help but grin.  If I ever doubted love at first sight, this totally seals the deal for me.

You should see her dragging him around the house.

At the Dinner Table

You don't talk about that at the dinner table.  We don't act like that at the dinner table.  No dogs at the dinner table.  You will sit at the dinner table until you've finished your meal, young lady.

How many times have you heard this in your life?  Be honest. 

Do you want to know what we've never really done at our dinner table?  Eat dinner.

It's always been easier to grab a plate and sit in the living room, chowing in front of the TV, so we never really even thought about it.

A couple of months ago, we had our fall parent-teacher conference.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. and her staff told us all about the great stuff that's been happening at school, and The Hubbs and I marveled at how much The Princess is able to do for herself there.

Home has always been a free zone, a place where she doesn't need to worry about tons of structure.  We've always felt she gets enough of that from the other adults in her life, and we've wanted to provide that sanctuary for her...a special place where she can just be her without worrying about a thing.

Lately, though, it has become apparent that a little structure can go a long way.  We've started making small changes that have had big results, and it's really exciting to witness. 

The  most recent is the fact that all three of us sit down at eat together at the dinner table every night.  The Hubbs and I have found that this simple change has helped us to slow down for a short time each evening, while providing the small amount of structure that seems to help our girl find her center.

She comes into the kitchen, sits in her chair at the end of the table, eats her favorite things first, drinks all of her milk from a big girl glass and proceeds to make a fuss over eating whatever unacceptable crap I've shoved in front of her face.

Just like I did when I was five.

Mean

I use words like y'all and soda.  My family eats dinner together, even if we are a bit unconventional about it.  We live in a house with a yard and two dogs.  The vast majority of our free time is spent outside, whether it be in the lake or hiking in a state park.  I believe you should treat others the way you would like to be treated and that a little kindness goes a long way.  I listen to country music.  A LOT of country music.

I feel as though these are things you must know about me and my family before reading on.  Now that we've got that all straightened out, I have a little story to share with y'all.

*

Driving along in our little compact car the other day, The Princess reached forward and handed The Hubbs her bowl.  Again.  She'd been eating non-stop since we left the house, and we were in real danger of running out of snacks.  We were not quite half-way through our errands.

"Sorry, honey.  All done.  You can have some more in a little while," said The Hubbs.

If you don't already know this, The Princess is autistic and non-verbal.  She loves music and possesses an unbelievable ability to pick up melodies and retain them, taking them out and playing with them when she sees fit, sometimes days, weeks, or even months after hearing them.  We've noticed lately that certain songs tend to come up in certain situations, almost like the melodies are her way of saying yes, no, I'm mad, or what have you.

You see, that paragraph in italics is kind of important.  If you don't know that about my girl, you won't understand why her reaction is so damned funny to me.

Without skipping a beat, The Princess started singing a new melody we hadn't heard from her before: the chorus of Taylor Swift's "Mean."  The lyrics go like this:  Someday, I'll be livin' in a big old city, and all you're ever gonna be is mean...yeah...someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me, and all you're ever gonna be is mean.  Why you gotta be so mean?

Get it?  I mean, how flippin' cool is that?  I just about had to pull off the road when we realized what she was singing.

Not clicking yet?  I'll spell it out for ya:  The Hubbs told The Princess no, and she essentially responded with, "Daddy, why you gotta be so mean?"

Thank goodness I wasn't drinkin' a soda at the time, y'all, or I'd have sprayed it all over the inside of my windshield.  And then, as my AC would say, I'd have to give it a good warshin'.

This Boy I Kind of Like

Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag.  There's this boy I kind of like.  Kind of have for a while.  Maybe about eight and a half years.  Not that I'm counting.

You guessed it: this boy I kind of like is none other than The Hubbs.

This weekend, we celebrated my love's (ahem-cough-cough)st birthday.  We spent Saturday doing all the things he wanted to do, and we had the fam over yesterday to celebrate on the actual day.

Eight and a half years, and I still feel like a schoolgirl every time I see him.

Yes, dear.  Even if you are older than dirt.

I love you, mister.  Thanks for being you.

Happy birthday!
Vroom

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes

It's singalong time, y'all.  You all know this one...don't try to deny it.

Ready?

1...2...3...sing it with me!

Head...

..and shoulders...

...knees...

...and toes!

Pay no attention to the state of her room.  We've had more important things to worry about lately, like the fact that The Princess is now mimicking all sorts of fabulous stuff. 

At five-and-a-half years old, my girl has reached a major milestone: one of the first steps toward speech.  I am so proud I could burst.

And I'm having a blast seeing exactly what she'll copy.  There's a lot, and it's totally entertaining.  I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume we should probably start watching what we say.  There's a possibility we may have another speaker in our midst within the foreseeable future.

Halloween Miracle

Tradition in our little yellow house dictates very specific Halloween activities, including trick-or-treating at The Grumps and attending a fabulous party with their neighbors.  Unfortunately, The Grumps were out of town for Halloween this year, so we were on our own.

On the big day, we dressed The Princess in her punk rocker costume - complete with pink hair and a studded dog collar as her belt - and sent her off to school.  When she got home, The Hubbs took her to a local state park to blow off some steam while I finished up my work day.

And then we freshened up her look and headed outside.  We made a face, and she mimicked it.  Right into the camera.

Proud doesn't even begin to describe this moment.  She's looking into the camera.  She's mimicking a face we've made at her seconds before snapping the picture.  She's doing both things AT THE SAME TIME, as the result of an implied request.

I never would have thought it was possible.  Just another example of how much and how often my girl knocks my socks off.

Sick Of Hearing About Pee?

Well, have I got a treat for you!  I'm out of town at the moment for a work retreat, so I'll make this short and sweet.

I talked to The Hubbs yesterday morning.  Apparently, when he walked into The Princess's room to check on her while she was playing on Saturday evening, he found a giant poop in her pink froggy potty.

And, it seems he forgot to put her in her overnight Pull-Ups on Friday and Saturday.  And she was dry.  Both nights.

That is all.

Waving

The Hubbs: "Hi, Princess.  Hiiiiii."

The Princess:

At five and a half years old, she's finally beginning to understand the concept of waving.  She still seems a bit confused by it, but it's slowly working its way into her vocabulary of actions.

The Best Decision I Ever Made

In my life, I've made my fair share of mistakes.  Everybody has.  We all know this about ourselves and those close to us.  But I love my mistakes; I hold them close to my heart, because they paved the way for the best decision I ever made.

If I hadn't had that four-year brain fart starting in high school (who shall remain nameless), I never would have needed karaoke to show me my way home.

If I hadn't spent seventeen years with my so-called best friend (who shall remain nameless), who stabbed me in the back countless times, I never would have developed a thick skin.  A thick skin that has been my saving grace these last few years as I've dealt with these people - we all know one or two of them - who have no worldly idea how to treat another human being.  "Nameless" and these other people have also taught me how to stand my ground when I know I'm right, and for that, I thank them.

If I hadn't had such a love-hate relationship with a few certain people over the years, I'd never be able to fully appreciate true, unbiased, unconditional, full-wattage love when I saw it.

If none of these things had ever happened the way they did, I have no idea where I'd have been on March 27, 2003.  I may never have met the love of my life.

Seven years ago, I married my best friend.  Today, as I look back, I can't help but thank God for all of the little mistakes along my path, the ones that brought me to him and him to me.

He never wanted to get married before we met.  I, apparently, have such a profound effect on men (ahem) that I decisively changed his mind over the course of six months...without ever having any idea that this is what I was doing. 

You see, I had given up on the idea that I needed a man to complete me.  I had had enough of serious dating, and I was out to have a little fun and be myself.

And that's when it happened.

Somewhere between him adamantly not wanting to get married and me just wanting to have fun, we found our soul mates in each other.

Every day since we met has been another fairy tale.

Happy seventh wedding anniversary, Swatta.  I love you, and I can say with absolute certainty that you are the best decision I ever made.

Loved to Hate It

Every week since she turned three, The Princess has brought home a potty chart in her backpack.  This evil little scrap of paper loves to mock all of our efforts, and I love to hate it.

I suppose I should really say, "I loved to hate it."

Why, you may ask?  See for yourself.

That's right.  A perfect record.  It only took two and a half years at school, and - damn it - it was worth every single second of the wait.

Potty Training, Picture Day and the Death of a Dishwasher

Buckle up, folks...this post is gonna be a rambler.  ;)

Since we talked last week, a lot has happened.  We've continued our daily trips to the local state parks, and The Princess continues to love it.

Don't believe me?  Here's your proof:

Go ahead...just try to tell me that's not a happy kid.

She is still a major fan of the stroller rides, and I'm so unbelievably proud of her.  Are you sitting down?  No?  Grab a seat.  I'll wait.

Not only is our girl rockin' the big girl panties every day, but she's decided to take things up a notch.  She now stops what she is doing, gets up, runs to her potty, goes, pulls up her drawers, removes the pee bucket from the pink froggy, and attempts to empty it into the toilet herself.  Without being prompted.  I mean, like, all by herself.

I know.  I almost plotzed the first time it happened.  And the second.  And the third.  I think I'm finally starting to get used to it.

Just shy of five and a half years of wearing diapers every single day...and it was so totally worth the wait.  Sure, it took years of grueling potty training, but when this girl gets something, she gets it.  There are no words for the pride I feel.

***

Thursday was Fall Picture Day at school.  I have a hard time saying that without a snarky little whine creeping into my voice.  Autism + Picture Day = Hell On Wheels for everyone involved.  At least, that's been my experience over the last couple of years.

Unbelievably, this year seems to have been different.  I'll have to reserve my final judgment for after we hear back from her teachers, but it doesn't seem to have thrown her at all.

Five minutes before our alarm was set to go off on Thursday morning, The Princess woke up and started singing.  As we walked into our room, I noticed that her hair looked amazing.  Yes, my girl, the one whose bedhead is epic and can last for days, woke up with not one single hair out of place.

We cruised through our morning routine with no hiccups, The Princess cooperating every step of the way.  She even chose her own outfit for her school picture.

After putting her on the bus with her backpack and an in-case-of-emergency change of pants, The Hubbs and I returned to work.

No phone calls.  No emails.  No panicked correspondence of any kind.  For Picture Day, it was eerily silent.

And then her bus arrived at the end of our driveway.  She greeted us with a smile and a song, still wearing the outfit she had chosen that morning and giving no indication that anything remotely out of the ordinary had happened.

We were warned in advance that this year's pictures would be taken in the gym, and that this can often be unbearable for at least some of the kids in the autism program.  No kidding.  We live with one.  Big, cavernous space + lots of antsy kids + waiting in line and being expected to do specific things = the mother of all meltdowns just waiting to happen.

But there was nothing.  She was happy.  No notes from teachers, aides, therapists.  No worried calls from school nurses.

Nothing at all.

I can't wait to see this picture, y'all.

***

And in totally non-Princess-related news, we've been fighting with our dishwasher for some time now.  We received it as a hand-me-down about six years ago. and I couldn't have been more thankful.  There was no way we could have afforded one at the time, and, hey...it was free. 

Over the last five or so years, I've torn that machine apart more times than I can count.  My momma didn't raise me to be a needy little girly-girl, so I dive head-first into repairs in my own home the way she always has with hers.  Probably a month and a half to two months ago, the dishwasher started acting up again, and I just didn't feel like I had time to check it out.  Fast-forward to September, and The Hubbs and I were just totally O-V-E-R the idea of hand-washing everything.  All meals in our little yellow house are made from scratch, and we do a lot of crock-potting and baking. 

Something needed to be done.

I ripped apart the dishwasher yet again, pulled diagnostic codes from its onboard computer, flipped it on its back, removed and tested all of the electrical components and came to a decision.  The capacitor and pressure switch alone would cost over $100 (plus shipping), and I didn't even know if that would fix the problem or not.  My first attempt - replacing the heating element - didn't do it, so my usually sunny outlook was gaining more than a little cloud cover.  With so many things testing in the bad-to-dead range, I was afraid there was a short somewhere in the machine.

Never one to give up, I called every store in the area that carries dishwashers.  I found one for $224 - brand new - and borrowed Momma's truck.  A few hours later, our new dishwasher was running the first load of dishes, and it does a great job.  In fact, I'm listening to it now.

And, can I just say that I'm feelin' pretty good about myself here?  I'm no helpless girly-girl, for sure, but this is the first time I've done this type of project from start to finish completely on my own.  Between the mechanical, electrical and plumbing aspects of the job, this has inflated my ego just a smidge.

***

All in all, I'd say it was a good week in our little yellow house.  But I can seriously do without any additional appliance weirdness for a while.  Here's hopin' the next week is on the quiet side, and we can have lots of uninterrupted family time.

The Princess and the Pee: Part Two

Whatever you do, don't read this out loud.  She'll hear you, and the spell could be broken.  I hesitate to even type it.

Remember when I told you about how long The Princess has been using diapers of some kind?

And then when I got all excited about our recent potty training efforts and the leaps and bounds our girl has made?

For the last solid week, The Princess has been prancing around her world sans training pants.  Did you hear that?  We're only using Pull-Ups at bedtime now.

She's using the potty consistently, and there's a glint in her eye that says she gets it.  She's proud. 

She even holds it when we're out for a walk at the state park.  For two hours. 

On Saturday, she had her first pit toilet experience (You know, the ones that are like glorified outhouses?  The ones that blow cold air up your butt and look like a 41-lb skinny minny of a thing could fall right in and never make it out?  Mm-hmm.  One of those.). 

She'd been riding in her stroller over some really rough terrain for a couple of miles.  We're talking straight up and down, bumpy stuff...yeah, that's right, we took her all-terrain stroller on the most difficult part of the trails.  And it was awesome.  I can still feel it in my shoulders.

We came up to a potty house, and The Hubbs and I could tell it was going to be pit toilets by the look of it.  The Princess, however, hadn't experienced these things before.  As I ran with her to the potty, she was getting visibly more excited by the moment.  Her bottom was dry, and she was getting antsy.

I opened the door, she took one look around and tried to bolt.  Fortunately, I caught her and was able to explain the situation.  She very cautiously walked around the toilet on all sides, casting suspicious glances into its fragrant depths before looking up at me with one last plea.

"I can tell you have to go potty, Princess," I told her.  "It's either this or have an accident in your pants, because it's going to be a while yet before we get back to the big building where we started."

She thought about this for only a moment before dropping her pants and hoisting her little bottom up onto the tall pot.  The look on her face as the cold air hit her bottom was priceless.

It took a few seconds, but she went.  And went.  And went.

Grinning from ear to ear, she hopped off the pot and pulled up her panties and pants.  She then proceeded to do laps around the toilet in an effort to figure out how to flush.  I did my best to explain that this kind of toilet doesn't have a flusher, and she listened intently.

Finally, she decided that closing the lid would have to do.  Leaving the little outhouse, we skipped back to her daddy, hand in hand, to complete our hike.

If my pride isn't evident through my words, maybe hers will be in this picture.

I am so unbelievably proud of this little girl, and I am once again in awe of how much the little things impact our lives every single day.

After nearly five and a half years of diapers and three to four years of potty training, we've arrived.  I can't imagine any other victory that could be this sweet.

Photoblog: State Park

Okay, so you may have figured out by now - smarties that you are - that I'm only posting once a week to this blog.  Between work, mommahood and the launch of Sam the Dragon, I think this is probably the most realistic goal I can set for myself at the moment.  This means I'll be posting no more than once per day between all of my various blogs.

***

Saturday, September 8, we awoke to the first chilly morning we've had since the beginning of the summer.  It was 53 degrees outside our little yellow house, and the sky was a crisp, clear blue: perfect weather for walking around our local state park.

The Princess is now five years old, and she still absolutely adores riding in a stroller.  Earlier this year, we scrimped and saved until we could afford a three-wheeled all-terrain jogging stroller with a higher weight limit to accommodate her.  She is in lub with this thing.  We take family walks every day, and she seems to get the same calming effect from the stroller that she used to get from the horses at hippotherapy.  Something about the movement helps her find her center, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.  Priceless, really.

Along our walk at the state park, we spent a good deal of time with a pair of sandhill cranes, and we even met a little froggy friend on a lily pad by the lake.

After our long walk, we drove through the rest of the park and came across a wonderful, blessedly deserted playground, where we swung, climbed, slid and hung from monkey bars.  It was a sensory and texture wonderland and the perfect topper to a spectacular morning with my loves.

Photoblog: The Great Lake

As you all know, our regularly scheduled summer activities have come to a grinding halt.  Our little private lake has been closed due to a bloom of blue-green algae that can be harmful to humans and pets, and it's not looking as though we'll be able to get back in before the fall cool-off commences.

Our Labor Day weekend was interesting, due to the fact that this all happened on the Friday beforehand.  But you already know all about that.

The Tuesday after Labor Day, Grumma made a suggestion.  While The Princess was at school, Grumma called me to ask what I thought of an after-work field trip (I work from home, so these are totally possible) to our nearest Great Lake.  She and Grumpa had ventured over to one of our favorite beaches there the day before, and she told me the water was perfect.

Well, I had to admit that this sounded like a fabulous idea, and it would be another first for The Princess: she'd never been to the Great Lake before.  The Hubbs and I packed up all we'd need while our girl was still at school, and shortly after she got home, she and I took off to Grumma's house.  Da's entitled to a little peace and quiet every once in a while, ya know.  :)

I had my reservations about switching cars and then driving nearly another hour before arriving at our destination.  Fortunately, we had thought ahead and not breathed a word of our plans to The Princess, so she wasn't all worked up at the prospect of swimming, only to be let down by a long car ride to get there.  All I told her ahead of time was that we were going to Grumma's house, and that she was going to take us someplace special. 

I should really hit my knees here and thank the good Lord that my girl is as adaptable as she is.  I realize how much of a challenge this can be for many non-verbal individuals, not to mention those on the spectrum; sometimes, the smallest variation on a routine can cause utter chaos...even with my girl, but on a much smaller scale than many.  Every day, this little girl blows me away with what she is willing, ready, and able to take on.  Oh, to be this fearless and free.

It turns out I needn't have worried.  After pulling into our parking spot, she still hadn't glimpsed the water.  I fished her ruffle-bottom bathing suit out of the laundry basket I'd brought along with all of our stuff, and she began to flap and strip at the same time (not an easy feat).

Once she saw that suit, she knew something was up.  Changed and gooped to the max with sunscreen, we headed down to the water's edge.

I don't think either Grumma or I could have imagined a better outcome.  It was a complete and utter success: a smash hit.

And I think there's just a slight possibility that we may be doing this again...and again...and again...

Another Victory

With the exception of a handful of days, we've been swimming every single day this summer.  Living a couple of blocks off the lake has turned out to be our saving grace this year.  The Princess couldn't be happier than when she's in the water, and The Hubbs and I have come to depend upon it as well.

Our plans for Labor Day weekend included one thing: swimming.  We wanted nothing more than to see how many hours we could spend at the lake over these last four days.

And then...

On Friday afternoon, we were at our neighborhood beach for about ten minutes or so before a guy came by on his boat telling us that he had received an email saying that the lake had been closed due to a bloom of blue-green algae that can be harmful to people.

We got out of the lake and went home, showering thoroughly to avoid any adverse effects.  Checking the all-knowing Internet, our fears were confirmed: the lake was closed until further notice.

This is how we had planned to spend the long weekend:

Instead, we had to come up with alternatives.  There were quite a few hits and quite a few misses along the way, but one alternative afternoon activity just kills me.

On Sunday, our girl was restless.  She saw me outside watering my flowers and began to fuss.  I called inside to The Hubbs, and we decided it would be a good idea to let her play in the sprinkler.  She came out in her favorite ruffle-bottom bathing suit and had an absolute blast.

Our front yard is fenced in, so it's pretty great for our purposes.  We let The Princess have her fun where we could keep an eye on her from the living room.  Every couple of minutes, we'd see our girl grinning and running through the sprinkler, happily stimmy-fliddling little droplets of water.

And then...

The Hubbs peeked out the front window and exclaimed, "What the...?"

Well, naturally, I had to get up to see what was going on.  And, boy, am I glad I did.

Stepping out onto our front stoop, I took in the view.  The ruffly bottom of our girl's swim suit was lying discarded near the sprinkler, and she was streaking across the front yard and cackling at the top of her lungs.

Once we wrangled the streaker, we noticed something else was awry.

Mm-hmm.

The only question at that point was: where is it?

I took her inside, plopped her on the pink froggy potty to finish her business, cleaned up her little bottom, and got her set up with a new pair of panties and a Pull-Up.  Leaving her with The Hubbs, I took a strip of TP out into the front yard to commence my search.

There it was, not far from where we caught her running, smack in the middle of the front yard.  As I bent down to pick it up, this whole situation struck me as the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

I mean, here we are, trying so very hard to potty-train our girl.  Each day, we celebrate tiny little victories like thinking to pull our pants down when we have to go.

Really, what was so wrong with this?  In the middle of the front yard, in full view of the road and all of our neighbors, our little girl dropped trou and pooped.  Because she had to.

It's all in our perception, y'all.  This could have been a hugely negative experience for some people, but me...I prefer to see it as another victory.

Oh, and P.S.  Her doggies are very proud of her.  They've decided she's finally worthy of the title Bulldog In Training.

The Princess and the Pee

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named The Princess.  She was super-sweet and unbelievably adorable, and she was diagnosed with autism at a very young age.

By the age of five, she was nonverbal and still wearing Pull-Ups.  Her momma and da knew it would be hard, but they were beginning to burn out on this whole potty training business after starting it when The Princess was about two years old.

And then one day, something clicked.  Momma put a pair of panties on under The Princess's Pull-Up, and she finally started to get it.  She still had accidents, but not nearly as many as before, and she seemed to be getting better and better as time went on.

This made her momma and da very happy.

Kindergarten started - The Princess's third year in school, if you can believe it - and she kept improving.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. didn't send home any wet pants or notes regarding misbehavior in the first two weeks.  In fact, the only note that she did send said that The Princess had taken herself to the bathroom twice during the school day, without any modeling, prompting or coaching from any of the staff members in the room.

Things were looking up.

Then, twice in one week, The Princess pooped in her little pink froggy potty.

And everyone lived happily ever after.  The end.

Cherish

"A friend is someone who knows us, but loves us anyway."

~Jerome Cummings

As I grow older, making my way toward the dreaded label of "adult" - which I'm sure I'll hit by the time I'm about 72 or so - I am amazed by the way things never really turn out how I think they will.  My perspective has shifted ever so slightly so damned many times in the last twenty years that I can hardly believe that silly little tween was me.

And so, at the ripe-old age of 31, I am here to share with you a small but very important portion of my infinite wisdom.  Pay attention, kids, 'cause here it comes.

Throughout my life, I've had many different sets of friends.  At times, I collected them like trophies to trot out and put on display for all to see.  When the going got rough, though, I always found out who was in it for the long haul.

There are plenty of people out there who are willing to call someone their friend.  Hell, these days it seems as though the majority of new friendships are started online - how sad is that? - and people don't even have to hold actual conversations.  Texting, facebook and twitter have replaced hanging out, talking on the phone until the wee hours of the night and riding your bike to your pal's house.  You can "like" something a person says or slam them without ever looking them in the face.

But when you get down to brass tacks, I'd be willing to bet you can count your true friends on one hand.  It's not a competition here, folks, and I know there will be exceptions, but I know it to be true in my own life and from observing those around me.

How many of your facebook friends would drop what they were doing and drive 30+ miles to bring you your spare set of car keys when you've locked yourself out of your car at a shopping mall in the dead of winter?

How many of your twitter followers would babysit your dogs while you deal with a family emergency?

How many people that you text with would stick out their neck for you?

How many of these "friends" would even pick up the phone if they saw your number on the Caller ID?

See?  Now I've got you thinking.  The gears are turning...I can hear them.  You're really not sure about most of those so-called friends, now, are you?

Do yourself a favor.  Go grab a pencil and a piece of paper - not a smart phone or a tablet...I want you to write this out for real.  I'll wait.

Now, write the names of your friends - not counting family - who you could count on to do any of the four things I mentioned above, no questions asked.

Look at the list.  Study it.  These are your real friends.  Slip this piece of paper into your pocket or your wallet, and revisit it every day. 

These are the people on whom you should be expending your energy.  These are the people who are going to be there for you when shit gets hard.  You need to do the same for them, or they may decide that somewhere down the line, you're no longer worth the time and effort...and these are not the people you want to lose due to neglect.

Nurture these relationships.  Cherish them.  Because when we're all old, grey and pruny, we want to be able to sit in a rocking chair on a porch, sipping sweet tea with our best friends, proudly looking back on our lives.  When I'm 72 (and, presumably, grown up), I want to sit there with T and reminisce about all the dumb shit we've done together...and all the dumb shit we're gonna do together in the next 41 years.

That's right, girlie.  This whole, big, rambling post is just another roundabout way to tell you that I love you. 

Happy birthday, T.  You're my bestie, and I plan on pestering you for a damn long time yet.

My Friend

I have this friend, arguably my best friend in the entire world...definitely in the top-most tier of buds, pals, what-have-you.  I've known him all my life, and he's always been there for me no matter what. 

1987: Sam, the family dog, passed away.  It was hard on everyone.  My friend showed up the next day with a little black puff of fur that won the hearts of the entire family.  Curly became our collective best bud, and he kept us company for eighteen wonderful years after that.

1988: I was seven years old when my best kiddo-pal down the block moved to Utah.  My friend understood and helped me to convince Momma Lady that I really could take care of my very own kitten.  That kitten and Curly became inseparable, and Kiki - I couldn't say kitty-kitty - became my personal protector.

1989: My friend showed up one evening with a pink Schwinn Fair Lady bicycle for my birthday.  It was perfect: vintage, a dark dusty rose color with a brand-new white banana seat.  I rode that thing for years, even blazing around the BMX track and completing my now-infamous no-footer over the plateau.  The boys never looked at me the same after that.

I could go on and on for days, weeks, years, telling you about some of the things he did for me while I was a kid.  Seeing as how none of us have that kind of time, I'll jump ahead to my adulthood.

2005: My friend made me giggle by being his usual goofy self during my wedding rehearsal, and that was all I could think about as he and I prepared to walk down the aisle the next day to meet my future.

2007: My friend became a grandfather, and he has devoted his life to adoring that little girl ever since.

My friend, as you may have guessed, is my father, better known in these parts as Pop.  Now, I know it may seem odd for a grown woman to count her daddy among her very best friends in the world, but I say screw convention.  This dude is the life of the party, and I will be a daddy's girl until the day I die.

Happy birthday, Pop.  I love you, man.

Unexplained

The Princess calmly came home from school yesterday, as she does most days.  She walked in the front door, dropped her pants and shuffled over to the potty.  She had her snack, gave out a round of hugs and retired to her room.

Five or ten minutes later, out of nowhere, she began to cry.  Loudly, and with gusto.  The Hubbs peeked his head into her room to see what was wrong, and she began to cry louder.  She didn't seem hurt, and nothing was obviously out of place in her room.

Grabbing her daddy's hand, she directed him toward the kitchen and flung his hand toward the gate.  He obliged her request, opening the gate for her to go through.  The moment the gate was open, her face turned tomato-red, and her hands flew up to cover her eyes while gigantic alligator tears spilled out of her eyes.

She didn't seem to want more food, and she wasn't interested in a drink.

Very purposefully, my girl directed her daddy to the screen door, which he opened for her.  She then proceeded to yank on the handle of her car door, still crying but getting her point across nonetheless.  At The Princess's request, her daddy helped her into her car seat and fastened her seat belt.  A couple of minutes later, he brought her snack out in case she was interested.

Our girl then proceeded to happily eat her trail mix while strapped into her car seat, alone in the dim garage.

And here is where I start to have trouble putting things into words.  I know that I will never be able to fully understand every aspect of her autism, but this one truly baffles me.  I'm just glad we were able to accommodate her request.

It Gets Easier

Two and a half years ago, I put my three-year-old girl on a bus for the first time.  The first step came up past her armpits.  This was not one of my better days as a momma.  I remember crying as the bus pulled away and wandering around the house with her blankie the whole time she was gone.

It seemed far too early.  I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my toddler was going to be away from home for hours every day.  I didn't know what to do.

It's gotten easier every day since then.  The Princess absolutely adores The Fabulous Mrs. G., and she does a happy dance every time the bus arrives at the end of our driveway.

By now, she's an old pro.  The bus is no longer scary, and there are no nerves whatsoever (for any of us).

Even on the first day of kindergarten.

As I sent my girl off to school this morning, I was struck by how easy it has become.  We've been blessed with an amazing staff of folks working with our girl through the special education district, and I wouldn't trade any one of them for all the tea in China.

I was also struck by the idea that many of my friends and family will be sending their little ones off on buses for the first time very soon.  I'm here to tell you that it gets easier.

And I'm here if you want to talk.  I've been there, y'all.  Forcing myself to stay home instead of following the bus all the way to school, blubbering on the couch that first morning, ecstatic to get a phone call from Mrs. G. telling me that The Princess was okay, I went through every emotion in the book.  I get it.  I do.  And I'm thinking of you and your little ones as you embark on this journey.

Who's Counting?

5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the current running count of how long we've been using diapers of some sort in this house.

1: this is the number of children in this house.

10: this is about the average number of diaper-type contraptions she's gone through on a daily basis for the last 5 years, 3 months, 27 days.

Some days, it gets so frustrating I could just scream.  There are those days when it seems like every time I turn around, she's wet.  No matter how many times she sits on her pink froggy potty (with this cute little face that mocks me relentlessly), she just can't seem to make it happen.

And then there are other days.  It's like a switch; we're going to have a good day or a bad day.  There is no in between.  Typically, the stellar days are followed immediately by the rip-your-hair-out fests that leave us all exhausted by dinner time.

We have a budget for Pull-Ups, which we routinely break, but somehow I just can't bring myself to raise that number.

44: the number of generic potty training pants in a package that should last us two weeks in between paychecks.

13: the number of generic potty training pants remaining after less than one full week.

These were the numbers running through my head as The Hubbs and I discussed where the extra "dipe money" was going to come from last week (for those of you who are interested, we raided our gas fund).

Something has got to give.  The Fabulous Mrs. G insisted at the end of last school year that our girl had no need for Pull-Ups at school anymore.  We didn't understand how.  Home has always been different somehow.  Home is the land of regression and slipping effortlessly into old habits.

We've tried everything at one point or another.  Everything. 

Somehow, it seems like we consistently try things too early, and if we have the presence of mind to revisit them at a later date, we're nearly always pleasantly surprised.

And that's the phase I'm in right now: pleasantly surprised.

4: the number of days our girl has been wearing panties (under her generic potty pants)

3: the average number of soiled panties/dipes per day since we started this time

3: the number of dry nights in a row, including last night

I'm aware of the fact that these things ebb and flow (pardon the pun), and that I just need to roll with it.  I'm aware of the fact that The Princess is not any of the other kids I know who were potty-trained at lightning speed during any part of almost four years we've been working on this skill in our little yellow house.  I'm aware of the possibility that typing this all out loud could very well invite a hair-pulling bad day back in where things have been going so well.

I'm aware of all these things, but I just had to share this with you.  Why?  Because I really think you'll understand.  Because, even though things are going well, sometimes it's easy to dwell on the negative. 

Because, without sitting down and putting this into words, I wouldn't be able to see the biggest number clearly.

5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the running count of how long I've been a momma, the running count of time since my world changed forever.  This is the running count of my new life, of time elapsed at the most important and fulfilling job I'll ever have.

But who's counting?

Livin' On A Prayer

One day, I'll update y'all on the bigger goings-on around here...I swear!  For now, my time is limited, and I know it'll even out eventually.  So, the thing is, at least I'm posting, right?  Right.

So, here I sit this morning, minding my own business and working at my home office.  I've got iTunes going as always, and all of a sudden, something catches my attention.  "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi has just ended, but I still hear the melody.

I pause my music and turn to my left.  The Princess is singing the song that was just playing.  With gusto.

I've been telling people for a while that our girl is a music lover.  Most of her waking hours are spent singing to herself, us, the dogs, anyone who will listen, really...and we all love it.  But the thing is, this is a song that we don't always listen to.  It's not a repetition thing.  She heard the melody and liked it so much, she kept it going after the song was over.

I am in awe.

Random, gratuitous photo of our little rock star

I know I don't say it enough, so here it is in writing: I.  Love.  My.  Life.

Later that same day: According to The Hubbs, our little Princess was belting the song out at the top of her lungs in the library.  The melody was so obvious to those around her that there was no question as to what she was getting at.  And she's still singing it as I type this note.  :)

The Lake...

...is what our summer is all about this year.  How about you?

It seems that we have the perfect place for The Princess mere blocks away from home.  It's a texture wonderland, between the sandy beach, tons of water, and rocks on the bottom.  She's taken to launching herself off of us in true daredevil style, and I don't think I've ever had more fun in my life.

Oh, and water wings?  We don't need no stinking water wings.

Show Me

Me: "Show me your nose."

The Princess carefully extends one finger, makes eye contact, smiles, and touches the tip of her nose.

It's taken five years, y'all, and it was worth every second of the wait.

For Now

At least once a day for the last two weeks, I've thought about writing a new post.  Every time, I don't feel as though I have enough minutes in my day to be able to sit down and just do it.

There's a lot going on around here, folks.  Stories about The Princess (good and bad), anxiety about my current work situation (we won't even go there today), random bits of silliness (which you should be used to by now), and much, much more.

But I just don't have the time to sit down and type them out.

Yet.

But I will.

Soon.

I hope.

For now, I'd just like to give a little shout-out to all of the mommas in my life.  To all of the women in my life who are Momma to someone else - yes, even those of you with fur-kids - I would like to wish you a nice, relaxing Mothers' Day with your broods.

I love you all.

We'll talk soon...promise.

Things I Love About The Princess: #642

The other night, after using her potty like a big girl, The Hubbs gave The Princess a small piece of chocolate. Her reaction? She started singing the melody to "Happy Birthday."

I'm Baaaaaack...

Okay, so I realize it may not have been obvious to all of you, given my sporadic posts of late, but I've been under the radar Internet-wise for the last few weeks.  The few times I've been able to post lately have been done from my iPod Touch - not an easy feat, lemme tell ya.

Due to connectivity issues with our Internet provider here at home, it seems like eons since I've been able to upload anything.  After work today, The Hubbs, The Princess and I took our tired old modem into the provider's office one town over and procured a replacement.

A replacement modem. 

A replacement modem that WORKS.

And so here I sit, blogging, uploading Easter pictures and The Princess's birthday pictures to Facebook, fiddling around with the stuff I haven't been able to do for the last month or so.  I have to admit...I'm kind of drooling a little here.

It's so nice to be back.

Oh, and since you didn't get a chance to see her outfit yet (thanks to Comcast), here are a couple of my favorite pictures of The Princess getting ready for school on her big birthday.

Have a good night, y'all.  If you need me, I'll be here.  On the couch.  Playing on the Internet.  Probably until the wee hours of the morning.  Well, after I catch up on Game of Thrones, that is.  ;)

Five

My dear, sweet Princess,

It was five years ago today that you arrived and immediately started ruling my world.  As of 4:42 PM on April 11, 2007, everything about my life changed.  All of a sudden, nothing else mattered.

You, my dear, are my purpose in life.

You are my greatest accomplishment.

I look at you this morning and marvel at the leaps and bounds you've made, at the things you've learned. 

At the things I've learned.

Little girl, you've already taught me so much more than I could ever hope to teach you.

This doesn't happen often, but I'm at a loss for words.  Just remember I'm here for you.  In your darkest hours, in your most weightless fits of joy, and in every time between: I'm here for you.

I love you.

Happy, happy fifth birthday, my sweet.

Love,
Momma

Proud

Family picture: Easter 2012

The Princess absolutely loves Nana and Grampy's hill.

Don't believe what I said above?  Here's more proof.  :)

You should have seen her, y'all.  My girl, the one who would scarcely make more than a second's eye contact a mere eighteen months ago, flaunted her advancing social skills all over the place on Sunday.

She ran and played with her cousin.

She ran and played with her daddy.

She ran and played with me.

She approached her great aunt and numerous other grown-up family members without prompting, made eye contact, and engaged them in interactions too numerous to count.

She showered us all in smiles and giggles.  The audio from one of the video clips just kills me.  She cackles, sings and squeaks.  She and her cousin scream together in glee as they fly down the hill with Auntie G.

Sure, she spent a good amount of time in her quiet room, but - dammit - The Princess gets better and better at being around our huge, rowdy family every time we get together.

I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of her.

Happy And

"When I got to school, I was _________."

This is one of many lines on the daily communication sheet that The Princess brings home in her backpack. This sheet is a great tool for her teachers, therapists and aides to tell us what happens at school...and for us to tell them what's going on at home.

Today's communication sheet started with this:

"When I got to school, I was happy and passing out hugs to my classmates."

That, my friends, is all. Really, I couldn't imagine asking for more.

IEP Fun

Yesterday was our annual IEP meeting, which fell at the perfect time for a much-needed day off from work.  The Hubbs and I sent The Princess off to school and busied ourselves getting ready for our 10:00 meeting with her team.

Now, I have to say that we are extremely fortunate.  I know I don't say it enough, but our girl has been blessed with a team of professionals who genuinely care for and about her, and everyone in that room is 100% on her side during every one of these meetings.  So many times when I read or hear about an IEP, the parents are fraught with worry and concerns for the wellbeing of their children.  I am so very thankful for The Fabulous Mrs. G. and the team of professionals that work with the kids in The Princess's class.

As expected, this meeting went very smoothly.  Our girl has met or exceeded four of her six goals from our last evaluation.  She is showing gigantic amounts of progress in many areas, including her ability to follow directions.  The team is very impressed - as are we - with The Princess's ability to retain multiple melodies, and we're all going to work on adding to her repertoire of songs as well as general imitation.

Since The Princess is turning five next month, she'll be entering kindergarten when the next school year starts.  This was one of my concerns going into the meeting; I wasn't sure if she'd be with her same team, or even in the same school.  Since everything is done through the county's special education district, the programs are spread around the area.  The program she's currently enrolled in is called Pre-K Pals, so I was a bit worried about what would happen when kindergarten started.

I needn't have worried.  We've been assured that she will remain in Mrs. G.'s class at least through kindergarten.  After that, she may move across the hall into Miss A.'s class with some of the older members of the autism program.  The bonus to this is that Miss A. is her summer school teacher, so we're not looking at a complete upheaval of The Princess's routine or team anytime soon.

So, I'd like to take this time to send up a quick prayer of thanks.  It's nice to know that The Princess is looked out for, and I wouldn't trade any one of these guardian angels for all the chocolate in Fannie Mae.

Kind of a Long Day

Sitting alone on the couch, watching "Pretty in Pink," my eyes are starting to slam shut.

It's been kind of a long day.  Good, but long.

And it occurs to me that I haven't heard a peep from The Princess in quite some time.

The poor kid just couldn't even bring herself to get into bed.  She fell asleep in a pile of Pillow Pets, and it actually took me a minute to locate her when I went in her room to see how she was doing.

I'm happy to report that The Princess has been relocated to her pink hippo tent, along with her Pillow Pet brigade and blankies.  They are all resting comfortably, and I don't think I'm far behind them.

Rambling

Wow.  It's been a while, I know.  Grab yourself a cup of tea - don't worry about me; I've already got one - and let's sit down and chat.

How've you been?  Sorry for being MIA for so long.  A lot has happened around here, and I'm not really sure where to even begin. 

(Buckle your seat belts, folks...here comes a rambling post in which I'll try to catch y'all up on everything at once, and we all know how well that usually works out!)

The Grumps went a little nutso for Christmas and spent too much money on The Princess.  Big surprise, I know.  This year, her present from them involved a trip to the Stride Rite store for new shoes.  Her previous pair of Stride Rites had lasted what seemed like forever, and the Velcro was wearing out, so we had to bite the bullet and get a new pair.  Which she wore a hole in - I'm talking through the rubber and the underlying leather - in just under two months.  Yep.  That's my girl!  This resulted in a funny letter home from The Fabulous Mrs. G., followed by an evening trip to WalMart for a new pair of $10 Garanimals sneakers.  If she's causing blowouts in her shoes that quickly, I'd rather chew on shards of broken glass than continue to pay Stride Rite's prices.

Grumpa.  Oy.  Grumpa.  For those of you who come here to read all about The Princess and nothing but The Princess, you may not be aware of the fact that my pop had a pretty major heart attack eight years ago, at the ripe-old age of forty-seven.  On February 2, he went in for an angiogram and ended up being admitted to the hospital where I work.  On February 3, he had triple bypass surgery.  He was in the hospital for a grand total of nine days before being released into Gumma's care at home.  This past Thursday, he had his first follow-up doctor visit, and everything looks good.

This past week, I got a promotion at work...yippee!  I'm still lovin' the concierge gig, and I sincerely hope it lasts a good, long time.

On January 22, my beautiful, sweet, hilarious sister-in-law (affectionately referred to as Jello in our little yellow house) gave birth to an amazing little girl.  JAKE (Jello's whole family...their acronym is way better than ours - if you put all our initials together, the best you come up with is SCABS) came in to visit from Ohio this weekend, and The Hubbs and I were really, really looking forward to meeting little E and hanging out with our beloved K-Bear.  Unfortunately, The Princess is a bit under the weather, so we were unable to see them after all.  On the bright side, it sounds like they will be back in about a month for E's baptism and Jello's and my combined birthday party.  If anyone is sick that weekend, we're throwing them in a bubble and calling it a day.

On January 31, my ex-work-hubby and his beautiful wife welcomed their first child, a beautiful baby boy.  This is the dude who kept me sane at the end of my tenure at my previous job, when things got hairy.  We don't see each other much (in fact, the last time we all got together in real life was in June of last year), but these people are family.  R, D, and Junior, The Hubbo Family couldn't be more excited for you.

And now, the subject you've all been waiting for...I just know it: The Princess.  Our girl is still the most amazing little person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.  Not an hour goes by that doesn't involve her doing something that astonishes me.  Case in point: the hour-long snuggle earlier today.  My little introvert is coming out of her shell.  Sure, she still spends an inordinate amount of time in her room, but she now makes a point of coming out into the living room every so often, initiating eye contact with either me or The Hubbs, and climbing into one of our laps. 

There are so many other things I want to tell you about our girl, about the progress she is making and about the ways she warms my heart, but my teacup is woefully empty.  And this can only mean one thing: time for bed.

Before we part ways, dear friends, I promise you I'll start trying to post more regularly.  Please note the operative word in that promise: try.

In the mean time, say hello to your families for me...and don't forget to turn off your computers and cell phones every once in a while to spend some precious time together.

Skål

In my life, I've had lots of friends.  I was never "popular," but I have always tended to be one of those weird floater people, getting along with pretty much everyone and having friends in each of the different groups.  Out of the hundreds of people I'd call friends over my lifetime, I can count the true lifelong friendships on one hand.

There's a lot to be said for casual friendships, but it's this elite group of one-handers who enhance my life.  I can't even begin to stress enough the importance of having people close to me who understand and accept The Princess for who and what she is...no questions asked.  

One of these one-handers happens to be The Hubbs' best friend, fondly referred to as Uncle D in our house.

This man is extraordinary in so many ways.  Born in Denmark, he has traveled the world and has more entertaining anecdotes than anyone else I've ever met.  When he was eight years old, Fate dropped him in the States (Thank you, Fate!), where he's resided ever since.

With all of the amazing things D has done in business, travel, music, film and countless other ventures, I am most taken with the fact that he has been a brother to The Hubbs for 20+ years.  The boys don't see each other nearly as much since The Hubbs moved up to our little yellow house, but when they get together, it's as though no time has passed.

D, I want you to know that we all love you and consider you part of our family.  Happy, happy 40th birthday, my friend.  

Skål.

Still Here

Just a quick note to let y'all know I'm still here.  I'm really starting to enjoy the fact that I don't have to run around so much anymore, and - as predicted - I'm finding plenty to fill my time.

In case you're wondering what I've been up to, hop on over to my crochet blog to see my latest project.  It's a doozie!

Resolve

In 2012, I resolve to:

Take more time for me and my family.
Stop spreading myself so thin.
Enjoy things more.

See y'all soon.

Accomplishment

Thursday, December 15, 2011
5:00 pm

This has been one hell of a day.  Mom and I wrapped a ton of presents at work today, after which I hightailed it home to grab my cap and gown, only to fly right back out the door again after about twenty minutes with The Hubbs, The Princess and The In-Laws.

I'm now standing in line in a room I never noticed before, tucked away next to the commons at school.  Like a good little sheep, I've found the line I belong in based on my last name, and now I'm moving forward at a snail's pace.

Oh.  It's my turn.

I give the lady my name, and she hands me a card with my name spelled phonetically on it.  I ask if there's anything else, and she relinquishes a Ziploc baggie with a bright gold cord inside.  I'm in danger of tearing up, so I thank her and walk across the room to trade in my coat for the aforementioned cap and gown.

The cord is for high honors: grade point averages of 3.75 and up.  I'm one of about ten in the graduation class of 200+ who has received one of these cords. 

An hour and a half later, feet aching from standing in line for so long, I'm slightly disenchanted.  I'm wondering why in the world I am bothering to walk at all.  Having kept in contact with The Hubbs since my family arrived, I'm acutely aware of the fact that this is about the worst place in the world for The Princess.  She's miserable.  Grampy has already left the auditorium with her and is presumably chasing her in some quiet recess of the school.

Finally - finally - the line starts moving.

I head into the auditorium, where the band is playing "Pomp and Circumstance."  The bleachers and chairs are completely packed.  I can't find my family anywhere, though I'm trying my damnedest to sneak a peek as discreetly as possible.

We file to our seats.  I'm in the front row.  The college president and board of trustees start their hullabaloo on the stage in front of me, and my irritation melts away.

Does it feel cheesy?  Sure.

Is it worth it?  You're damn right, it is.

At one point during the hullabaloo, graduating students with white cords (indicating honors - 3.5-3.74) are asked to stand, followed by those of us with gold cords.  I stand, and I'm in real danger of crying now.

Not to worry, though.  When I sit back down, my cell phone slides down out of its place in my bra (Don't look at me like that.  I couldn't get to my pockets with the graduation gown on, and I needed to be available in case The Hubbs needed me for some reason.) and onto my belly.

Shit.

As discreetly as possible, I unzip my graduation gown and retrieve my runaway (hot pink...I know, very subtle) cell phone.  Zipping my gown back up, I rearrange my cords and return the offending phone to its spot, where I sincerely hope it will remain for the rest of the ceremony.

As if on cue, my row is beckoned to line up to receive our diplomas almost immediately following my phone fiasco.  I follow the people in front of me, spotting Gumma and Nana with their cameras.  Ever the distinguished individual, I make a face at them on my way to the ramp that leads to the stage.  Gumma takes a very attractive picture, and Nana even manages to capture it on video.

A short while later, my name is called.  I head across the stage wearing my cap, gown, and coveted gold cord.  I receive my diploma holder.  I'm gently herded over to the president of the college for a photo op before heading down the ramp and back to my seat.

On my way back, I hear a stage whisper: "Amy!"  Looking to my right, I see my favorite Spanish teacher grinning and giving me a thumbs-up.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur.  All of a sudden, we're switching our tassels to the other side.  We've done it.  We've graduated.

The band starts up again, and the graduates are filing out of the auditorium.  Passing through the doors, I think, "That's it," just before realizing the entire faculty is lining the corridors back to the cafeteria.  They're clapping and cheering, and the sound is deafening.  I am grinning from ear to ear while simultaneously wishing I could find The Princess and get her the hell out of here.

The commons area fills up in no time.  I'm trying to organize a meeting with my family, so even though all I want to do is look for them, I force myself to stay put.  I've told them I'm right next to the Christmas tree, so that is where I shall stay.

There they are!  I see The Hubbs breaking through the crowd in my direction, accompanied by an extremely distressed little girl.  She has the eyes of a caged animal, and I can tell it won't be long before she hits her absolute limit.

We head back into the room where I started at 5:00 this afternoon, which is blissfully quiet and empty during this exciting time.  The Princess runs back and forth and back and forth and back and...you get the idea, stopping only to stim with the tassels on the ends of my gold cord.

Once our whole group is back together, we head for our cars and make our way home to relax and gorge ourselves on pizza from our little local place.  This is a much better idea than going out to eat, considering The Princess's evening thus far.  I just can't imagine subjecting her to any more noise or commotion tonight.

As we're sitting together in the living room of our little yellow house, it hits me.  I did it.  And I am well aware of the fact that this never would have happened without these people who love me.  These people who I love.

Thank you, guys.  You know who you are.