Too Soon

Kitty-corner across the street is a tan house, owned by a man who has always been the life of the party.  He has long been one of my friendliest neighbors, and he's always been quick with a smile or to offer help when I've bitten off more than I can chew in the yard. 

Just before sunset yesterday, I heard his motorcycle start, and I caught a glimpse of him leaving the neighborhood.  I remember thinking it would have been a great night for a ride.  The heat had just broken, and it was shaping up to be a beautiful evening. 

He never made it home. 

Around 2:00 this morning, his motorcycle went into a ditch and hit a culvert.  He was thrown and found unresponsive less than half a mile from home.  He was pronounced dead a short while later at the local hospital. 

I can't imagine what his family must be going through right now.  He's married with three almost-grown kids and a beloved granddaughter.  All I can do is pray for them, and I'd like to ask that you do the same. 

He was forty-three.  No matter how you look at it, that's just too soon. 

Tandem

For a couple of years now, The Hubbs and I have been trying to figure out how in the world we can teach The Princess to ride a bike. 

For her fourth birthday, her main present was a bike.  Which she outgrew without ever grasping the concept of pedaling. 

For her sixth birthday, her main present was - wait for it - a bike.  The next size up, in fact.  She also received pads and a helmet, and we're still struggling to get the pedaling idea across.  This is not easy, folks. 

But we're not giving up.  If there's anything our girl has taught us in these last six years, it's to persevere.  She's shown us time and time again that amazing things can happen if we just stick to our guns. 

So here we are, sticking to our guns.  Together.  For the first time in The Princess's life, we went for a family bike ride today. 

I can't even begin to describe the smile in my heart.  

Independence

In a town of 1,400 people, certain traditions become legendary.  We live two houses from the main street, where the annual Independence Day hubbub begins with a long, loud parade.

Hell on wheels for my girl. 

Did I mention that the rest of the day in our quaint little town consists of a crowded ski show and a massive professional fireworks display over the lake?  Oh, and that people here like to fashion their own homemade bombs and set them off at completely random intervals?

All of this, dear readers, is when our story of independence begins.  Independence from expectations.  Independence from the dreaded "norm."

As is quickly becoming our 4th of July tradition, we went for a morning swim before getting the heck out of Dodge.  Lunch and ice cream at McDonald's were followed closely by a trip to one of our favorite state parks, where we played and took a leisurely hike. 

After the park, we came back home for another swim, ditched the ski show for a family walk with our lovely bulldogs, and we're now preparing to feast on chili dogs in front of a DVD of The Big Bang Theory. 

This, my friends, is what I call independence. A perfect summer day with the two people I love most: I wouldn't dream of ever asking for more. 

From the bottom of my extremely relaxed heart, I hope your day has been even half as enjoyable as ours.

Sitting with The Princess in her room one laid back afternoon, I found myself in an interesting conversation. 

Me: Can you say, "La la?"

Her: La la. 

Like it's nothing. 

Me: How about, "Da da?"

She doesn't miss a beat: Da. 

Me: Bubbles. 

Her: Bubba.

Me: Lee. 

Her: Leeeee. 

Me: Momma. 

Her: No. 

And that's all I have to say about that. 

Change of Pace

From time to time, something happens in my world that I just want to share, and then I think: well, poop...it doesn't have anything to do with The Princess or with autism, so I can't really blog about it.  I'm breaking that rule today, because - while this isn't exactly about my beloved daughter or her autism - it's related.  Stick with me.  You'll see why.

The Hubbs and I are avid readers.  No, that's not a figure of speech.  The entire staff at our library knows us - if not by name, then at least by sight - as we're probably two of the most consistent users of the library system in our little rural area.  We love books, and that shows in our choice of entertainment as well as the small library housed in our basement/home office.

David Sedaris is one of my favorite non-fiction writers.  He publishes collections of short essays about his life and his views on whatever strikes his fancy.  While I don't always agree with his opinions, I respect them, and he has a remarkable ability to make me bark-laugh while reading his work.  He's clever, witty and bitingly sarcastic at times.  

Yesterday, while I was on the train to work, I read the following passage in one of his essays and shared it on my personal Facebook page:

"If you don't want to marry a homosexual, then don't. But what gives you the right to weigh in on your neighbor's options? It's like voting on whether or not redheads should be allowed to celebrate Christmas." -David Sedaris

As expected, my friends and family started clicking the 'like' button.  We're an accepting and inclusive bunch, and I thought this would bring a smile to many of their faces.  What I did not expect was this, posted by a man I have known for over a decade:

"Marriage in gods eyes is still between a Man and a women that will not change"

My knee-jerk reaction was to delete his comment.  I believed it had no place on my personal page, and it felt like he was attacking me.   After further consideration, though, I decided that what I really needed to was respond:

"While I hear and respect your opinion, it also saddens me. For one human being to presume he or she knows what is right for all, and to enforce that by limiting the rights of others, is a troubling thought indeed. There are many differences between all of us; some are impressive, others confounding, many of which are messy. I look at these differences and see the beauty that is the human race. In my circle, you'll see black and white people - and every color in between. You'll see blindness, developmental disabilities, the dreaded "normal." You'll see heterosexual and homosexual, rich and poor. I, however, choose to look upon that same group and see but two things: friends and family. That, sadly, seems to be the difference between you and me on this matter."

And that, my friends, is how this seemingly unrelated post circled around and became relevant in the world of The Princess and her autism.  Whether it's related to the color of one's skin, his or her personal beliefs, sexual orientation, mental or physical differences...really, whatever it is...acceptance should never be viewed as a gift to be bestowed on those different from us at our own discretion.  Rather, people should have to work to not be inherently accepted.

Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace? 

A La Ma Ma

For six years, I've been fortunate enough to be involved in The Princess's life.  During the course of those six years, we've had our ups and downs, all through the magnifying lens of her autism. 

My girl possesses a brand of brutal honesty rarely seen in the human race.  She operates without a shred of inhibition or self-consciousness.  She wears her heart on her sleeve.  Unbridled joy can be closely followed by agonizing overload or disappointment. 

In short, you don't have to be a neuropsych to see what my girl is feeling. 

Though she is nonverbal, The Princess communicates things in her own unique way.  I have never doubted her love for The Hubbs and myself, not even for a moment.  How could I, when she makes such concerted efforts to show us each and every day?

Still, I admit to being just a tad envious when I hear her cousins or other little ones telling their parents that they love them.  I know...I do my best not to compare, and I'm happier than I've been in my entire life, but there it is. 

This morning, I walked into The Princess's room to wake her, and I ended up plopped on the floor next to her bed.  Every day, I make a point of sitting down with my girl and telling her just how much she means to me.  With all of the challenges she will face in her life, I want no question about this: she is special, she is kind, she is smart, and she is cherished.

As I've done every other day of her life, I told my girl in no uncertain terms that she is loved. 

And, there in her room on a Sunday morning like any other, my life changed.  Because just after I told her that Momma loves  her, she looked me in the eye with the sweetest smile on her little face and said, "A la ma ma."

A la you, too, baby.  You have no idea how much you mean to me.  Thank you for - once again - pointing out exactly how big the little things can be if we just slow down and take the time to experience them with all we have. 

Imperial

The Hubbs just came bounding down the stairs and barged into my home office with a huge grin on his face.  The reason goes something like this, and I may be paraphrasing a bit:

The Princess is sitting at the kitchen table, eating her peas like a good girl.  And humming The Imperial March from Star Wars.

He was on the verge of tears, and his impression was priceless.

Happy Monday, y'all.  May the force be with you.

La La Laaaaa

More and more, The Princess is mimicking things we do.  More and more, those things include sounds.  More and more, I'm absolutely gobsmacked by the progress she's making and overwhelmingly grateful that I am here to witness it.

About a week ago, I sat in my computer chair with an extremely engaged little person on my lap, smiling and staring into my eyes with an intensity I never would have thought possible if you'd have asked me three years ago.  The twinkle in her little peepers said Come on, Momma.  Let's play.  

I said, "Puh, puh, puh."

She said, "Puh, puh, puh."

I said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."

She said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."

These are two sounds she's been mimicking for a while now.  She was still all engaged and twinkly, so I got brave and tried a new one that's never worked before.

I said, "La, la, la."

She snapped her little mouth shut and looked at me - I mean really looked.  She reached out and touched my lips, stuck her tongue out and I could almost see the gears turning in her head.  She moved her little hand on my mouth, very effectively asking me to say it again.

Me: "La, la, la, la, la."

Her: A determined look slapped on her pretty little face, she stuck her tongue out between her teeth and said - perfectly, on the first try - "La, la, laaaaa."

Hope

I am happy to report that The Fabulous Mrs. G. is living up to her name - no big surprise there, but reassuring nonetheless.

After the incident at The Princess's spring music program, The Hubbs and I decided to keep The Princess home from school until we reached a resolution.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. called me Monday morning, and I learned a lot in the space of about twenty minutes.  It seems that The Princess and Z have been paired together for most activities in school recently, and the initial solution involves pairing them off with other classmates to separate them from one another.

Starting on Tuesday, each of the girls has a new partner for each of her activities, and the classroom staff will be keeping a closer eye out for this type of behavior.  The girls are also in the same ESY (summer school) class each year, and that staff will be notified of the need to keep the girls apart as well.

Long story short: I am so grateful for The Princess's support team at school.  They obviously care about the kids they work with, and it shows in everything they do.  I've always thought of The Fabulous Mrs. G. as a guardian angel to our family, and my conversation with her on Monday only solidified that notion.

Last week, my heart was breaking.  Today, I have hope.  Hope that this solution will work.  Hope that Z will get the help she needs to pinpoint the cause for her aggression and help her and her parents deal with it.  Hope that, someday, I can be somebody else's Fabulous Mrs. G.

Physical Aggression in the Classroom

This is the note I had to type and send off to The Princess's teacher this evening.  It breaks my heart.

***

Hi Mrs. G.,

I saw videos from the music program today, and I'm completely blown away by how far The Princess has come since the last program.  I wish I could have been there, but I'm in San Francisco for work until next Friday...so it was really nice to get the videos that The Hubbs's mom took during the program.

That being said, I am extremely concerned for The Princess's safety.  The Hubbs and his mom both saw Z hit The Princess - hard - twice today.  Z seems to wait until you and the other staff members are otherwise occupied and then she hits The Princess.  The first time was so hard my mother-in-law was absolutely shocked.  You turned to talk to her and The Hubbs , and Z punched The Princess very hard in the chest.  It happened again when everyone was getting ready to leave.  You were occupied with something else, and Z hit The Princess again, this time with an open palm on The Princess's leg.  The Hubbs and my mother-in-law didn't want to cause a scene during the program, but I can't leave this unaddressed.

One of the most concerning aspects of this, to me, is that The Princess didn't react at all.  This tells me that it happens often enough that The Princess is used to it and doesn't see it as being wrong.  This is not okay in any sense of the word.

Being the parent of a nonverbal child like The Princess, The Hubbs and I are extremely vigilant about keeping our eyes on her.  She can't tell us if something hurts or if someone did something to her, and we rely on you and the other classroom staff to be our eyes and ears during the school day. 

We do absolutely everything in our power to keep her out of harm's way at home, but I feel like there's a gap in this vigilance at school.  This academic year alone, The Princess has come home with deep scratches to her face (which have since left scars - the original incident was in October), multiple bruises, bumps, cuts and scrapes.  Each time she comes home with an injury, we seem to receive a similar cryptic note regarding an incident with another student.

After today's events, I have no doubt that the other student has been Z, which I suspected all along.  I have nothing but respect and gratitude for you and your staff, and I know you do the best you can, but I have to insist that The Princess and Z be separated immediately.  I simply cannot stand by and allow this treatment/behavior to continue. 

The Princess has made amazing progress in the three years since she started in your program, and I think we would both agree that this is largely due to the fact that we - her parents - and you - her support team - have always been on the same page.  It's taken four and a half years, but she is now completely potty-trained.  Things take a long time for her to learn, but once they're ingrained, she has a memory like a steel trap.  I'm afraid that Z's behavior is teaching The Princess that volatility and violence are acceptable, and this is the exact opposite of what we are teaching and enforcing at home.

We've all worked too hard to get The Princess where she is today to see any regression or bad habits come out of inconsistency at school.  Like I said, I'm concerned for her safety at this point.  I cannot allow her to continue to be in the same classroom with a child who is physically abusive toward her.

Please let me know what can be done to solve this issue.  The Hubbs and I are prepared to keep The Princess home in the interim if needed, and I'll be happy to talk to whoever I need to talk to at the special education district or the local school district.  I just can't have my baby bullied. I hope you understand.

Thanks for your time,
Amy

Celebration: A Day (Mostly) In Pictures

In case you missed it, The Princess just turned six years old on the 11th of this month.  Since she was a wee one, she has not been able to deal with crowds, noise or parties in general.  Because of this, the last birthday party with more than five people in attendance was when she turned one.

Lately, though, The Princess has been showing off her developing self-calming skills and an amazing ability to cope with - and even, in some cases, enjoy - family parties.  Feeling adventurous, I decided a couple of months ago that we'd throw her a big party for her sixth birthday.

The party was this past Saturday, less than 24 hours after I stepped off a plane after spending the week working in San Francisco.  The festivities took place at Nana's house, where she and Auntie J absolutely knocked it out of the park.  Their parties are always amazing, and I have to say I am so thankful to the two of them for pulling this together for me.  I never, ever would have been able to do this without them...and not just because we live in an 800 square foot house!

We had about 20 people there, and The Princess did amazingly well.  She retreated to quiet spaces a few times, but for the most part she was involved in the party.  Running full tilt back and forth across the great room counts as being involved, right?  Right.  It's her party.  She can run if she wants to.

The theme was polka dots, and Nana and Auntie J found some amazingly adorable stuff.  Without further ado, here are a few of my favorite pictures:

The party room, including some of the coasters I crocheted (my contribution to the polka dot decorations).  The Princess's cousin K had fun running around and matching all the colors.

One of the lovely tables, decorated with polka dot whirly flowers, polka dot runners (handmade by my wonderful MIL and SIL), squiggly balls, Skittles, Smarties and Gummi Worms.  Oh, and some of my coasters, too.

I loved the whirly flowers.  What a cute idea for centerpieces!  You can also see the paper lanterns hanging from the chandelier in the background.  These gals are so clever.

Auntie J asked me eons ago for pictures - she had seen an idea online of putting up a banner of the birthday girl at all ages up until now, and I loved the idea.  Of course, I totally spaced on the pictures and completely forgot about it until I got there to see she had gone ahead with pics she already had.  Thank you, doll.  This is something I will cherish forever.

The dessert table: Oreos and Rice Krispy treats on the left, and homemade German Chocolate cake and yellow cake with cream cheese frosting (my contributions) on the right.  I love to bake, and I make everything from scratch because of my extremely inconvenient soy allergy.  It's nice to b able to share some of this stuff with more than just my little crew.

 

Loot pile!  She made out like a bandit.  Check out the fabulous polka dot birthday banner.

And here we are ripping into the presents.  This particular gift is from a beloved great auntie and great uncle, and it's a super-cool kid friendly MP3 player with an internal speaker and headphones.  The Princess smiles when I start the music and put the headphones on her, but she doesn't leave them on very long yet.  We'll work on using this a few minutes a day until she gets used to it.  I'm hoping it will join the ever-growing ranks of self-calming techniques she has begun to collect...and it would fit nicely in my purse!

I just had to include this one...from another beloved great auntie and uncle, she received a Fisher Price remote control and a V-Tech phone.  Both have buttons that light up and play music when pushed.  She is in love.

Singing to our girl.  I have to admit I got a little emotional here.  In the past, we've always sung Happy Birthday in our whisper voices.  This year, there were about 20 of us, and we sang at a normal volume.  She clapped with the rest of us and ran around for the rest of the afternoon singing the melody until we left to go home.

Another first: blowing out her birthday candles.  She has just learned how to blow within the last couple of months.  We brought out the cake, showed her what to do, and she did it.  Did you hear me?  She did it.  That last candle?  She blew it out all by herself.

Who doesn't love cake?

The four cousins.  From left to right, it's E, A, K and C (The Princess).  I just realized that if we were to put them in order from oldest to youngest, their initials would spell CAKE.  And, again, who doesn't love CAKE?

I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of this little girl.  She did an amazing job at her birthday party, and I absolutely adore the fact that she is feeling more and more comfortable at these family gatherings.

Thanks again to Nana and J for pulling this together for me.  I owe you, ladies.

And, Pop?  Thanks for taking over my camera so I could be in the action. 

Breaks

I've already said goodbye, and I'm standing on the sidewalk arranging my luggage so I don't drop a bag.  The Hubbs inches the car forward, and The Princess's eyes get bigger. 

I start to walk slowly toward the terminal, unable to take my eyes off of her.  At this point, I'm craning my neck to keep eye contact.  Her eyes get even bigger.

She reaches out, opens her mouth as if to say something, and it closes again with a jutting lower lip.

They pull away and I turn to go through the automatic doors.

My heart breaks.

Seeing Clearly

In every life, there are events which - when looking back - obviously change a person forever.  They say hindsight is 20/20, and as I look back I realize they're right; in fact, I've never seen anything more clearly.

1985: I'm four years old, walking hand-in-hand with my daddy.  Momma Lady and Hambone lead the way into the roller rink where we're about to attend our first lesson.  Little do I know that I will grow up in this building, visiting it at least three times every week until just after my sixteenth birthday, making lifelong friends and discovering a love for physical activity.  And speed.  Especially speed.  The kind that leaves the boys in my dust with their mouths hanging open in amazement.

1996: On a CB foxhunt with Hambone, I meet a boy.  I'm fifteen, and he is intriguing, edgy and a little bad.  He drives a Camaro and teaches me about rebuilding engines.  He feeds my need for speed by helping me learn to drive cars and ride a motorcycle.  Together, we race headlong into some really scary territory where we really don't belong.  The wind feels great in my hair, right up until we learn what it's like to hit a metaphorical brick wall at 240 mph.  I see now that while all this speed can be fun, it's also dangerous...and maybe not always worth the risk.

2001: I fall into a job, working as a temp at a database management company.  Keeping with the theme of moving fast, I quickly master the skills necessary to do the job.  Over the next eight and a half years, I keep moving fast, advancing through the company and pay grade at breakneck speed.  Out of nowhere, after nearly nine years of service with the company, I'm thrown under the bus.  They need a scapegoat, and they choose me.

2005: After a year and a half of the easiest dating of my life, things fall into place.  I'm not running anymore.  I'm walking hand-in-hand with the man you all know as The Hubbs.  We fit.  There's nothing to run from, so we slow down.

2007: The Hubbs and I ecstatically welcome our third child, the only human kid we have at this point.  The Princess brings joy and light into our lives in ways we never thought possible.

Today: Our girl is six years old.  I can hardly wrap my head around this concept; it feels like she was just born yesterday...but in so many ways, I can't even remember what it was ever like without her.

***

Princess,

I am so proud of you.  Honestly, you have no idea.  Your smile and spunk break my heart and cause me to burst at the seams with pride, all at the same time.  I look at you and wonder how I ever thought anything was important before you existed.  You are absolutely everything to me.

I tell you this every day, and I will continue to do so until I can no longer speak: you are my favorite person in the whole, wide world.  I love you with every fiber of my being, a love so fierce it scares me sometimes.  This is big, Kid.

Thank you for being you.  Thank you for allowing me to witness the incredible, awesome, amazing events that make you you.  I feel so privileged to be a part of your life, and I know I stand up a little bit straighter every day because of you.  Being so near greatness can cause a gal's self-esteem to skyrocket just a little.

You are kind.  You are funny, sweet and caring.  You've taught me so very much more than I could ever hope to teach you, including how to slow down and appreciate the little things...because, in this house, the little things are oh so very big.

Six years ago at 4:43 pm, my world shifted forever.  I stopped to smell the Roses, and - looking back - it's amazingly clear that I've never in my life accomplished anything nearly as awe-inspiring as being Momma to such a very special little girl.

I love you to the moon and back.


Happy, happy birthday, my sweet girl.

~Momma

Autism Awareness Month

April is an interesting time for those of us closely connected to autism.  Recognized as Autism Awareness Month, this time of year puts a large aspect of our daily lives in the forefront of mainstream media.  Speeches abound, as do news features that tend to speculate wildly about many facets of the disability.  Unfortunately, many of these speeches and features are taken as gospel by folks who don't understand the first thing about autism, people who don't take the time to fact check or put things in context.  Calls and emails pour in from well-meaning acquaintances who saw a two-and-a-half-minute TV spot and now fancy themselves experts on the subject.

In short, April is hard.

And I'm just gonna go ahead and say the thing we're not supposed to say as parents of children with a disability: I'm tired.  When left to my own devices, I begin to question the wisdom of constantly looking for teachable moments and making it my life's mission to correct all of the poorly researched, dime-a-dozen rhetoric people spout off to me every day.  Sometimes it seems as though I'm just picking fights with people who don't really give a fig about the nuts and bolts; they just want to parrot their mass media tidbits and pat themselves on the back for being so accepting. 

Don't get me wrong: I will continue to advocate for The Princess and others like her; of course I will.  I guess this is really just a long-winded way of telling you that I'm not going to be preaching the same canned tidbits you see on your local news spots this April.

I will, however, talk about awareness in bite-sized pieces for the rest of this month.  And, if I'm being perfectly honest, probably for as long as I live.  Because I'm an autism momma, and that's what we do...whether we mean to or not.

IEP and Rumblings: Part Two

Just a day after that phone call from The Fabulous Mrs. G., The Hubbs and I had a date with The Princess's team at school for her re-evaluation and IEP meeting.

Once again, I was awed by the caliber of human being that makes up our local special education district.  These people get it.  They really do.  They love our kids and see them as people, rather than inconveniences or disabilities.

Her speech therapist was so excited to tell us about her plans that she was literally getting tongue-tied.  Her mouth couldn't keep up with her brain and all the things she wanted to communicate to us, and she was unbelievably adorable.  The first thing out of her mouth was how much she adores our girl. 

The rest of the meeting went just as well.  The special ed coordinator from our home district was there, and she assured us that The Princess would not be transferring out of the special education district.  The next piece of good news we got was that The Princess will be staying with The Fabulous Mrs. G. for another year.  Her school day will lengthen by another hour, since she'll be entering first grade.  Overall, the input from the staff was positive.  She's been making progress, and we have a plan in place to help her continue to succeed at her goals.

Unfortunately for some of the people in that room, our special education district just had to lay off almost 50% of their staff due to cuts at local school districts.  It just breaks my heart.  I can't imagine being one of the parents who is standing on the edge of the great unknown right now.  At least we know that the people working with The Princess have her back, and that they really, truly understand her.

I'm choosing to look on the bright side.  Though we don't know yet where The Princess will be going to school next year, we do know with whom.  Things are going to change for sure, but at least we have the security of knowing The Fabulous Mrs. G. will be there to guide our little girl through it.

Rumblings: Part One

The past couple of months have been interesting.  With The Princess's annual IEP coming up, along with the looming 3-year reassessment, there's been a lot to do.

While we've been preparing for these meetings, we've heard some rumblings concerning the programs available to special needs kiddos in our area.  Nothing has been released officially, but we keep hearing rumors that a town in our county has decided to pull all of their autistic children out of the special education district programs in favor of fledgling programs that will be initiated by the local school district come this fall.  To save money.  They never even ran this past the parents.

Needless to say, we hoped these were just rumors.

A day or two after we filled out the grueling 3-year re-evaluation (a twenty-two page packet of depressing questions and observations, a truly nasty document that requires copious amounts of chocolate to deal with), The Hubbs received a phone call.

The Fabulous Mrs. G. was calling to talk about what's going to happen next year.  Evidently, the rumors are true.  All of the kids in a district two towns over have been pulled from the special education district, and their home district is going to start their own autism program.  This is in progress all around the county.  The parents have no choice. Mrs. G. wanted to let us know, because our little town apparently had yet to make a decision one way or the other.

I immediately started researching who I should talk to, which offices to call, which feathers to ruffle, in order to make sure our girl continues to get the level of care and service she has become accustomed to during her three years with The Fabulous Mrs. G., who - by the way - has been doing this for twenty-nine years.  I can't imagine changing everything up on her now, not after the amazing progress she's made with this team.

Once I finished breathing in and out slowly into a paper sack, I started to form a plan of action.  I'd start with the special ed coordinator at The Princess's home district, as well as the superintendent.  I was armed with all of the contact information for the members of our county board who represent our district.  I just couldn't trust my voice not to break or my tears not to flow.

I had to do this right.  And that meant it would have to wait.

Ever Wonder...

...what happens when you whip your head to the side while someone is trimming your hair? 

That's right: you get a brand-new short haircut.  That's really cute.  But totally not what your momma intended when she set out to give you a trim.

But it's okay, because you're flippin' adorable.

Sorry

I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, when - zing, SPLAT! - I find myself the victim of airborne marinara sauce.

Turning to my left, I see a little girl who is just bursting at the seams with the effort she's putting forth.  Tears have popped into her eyes, and she's trying with all her might not to laugh.

But I'm no fool.  Her empty spoon is held high.  Think catapult.

Me: Princess, we NEVER throw food at the table.  That is NOT funny.

The Princess: Heh.

Me: Oh, no.  This is not funny.  It makes me very sad that you would throw your food at me.  Please say you're sorry.  (Showing her the sign for "sorry")

The Princess vehemently shakes her head from side to side, cackling.

The Hubbs is turning purple.

Me: Excuse me, Princess!  We never act like that.  You hurt my feelings.  Please say you're sorry.  (Showing the sign for "sorry" again)

The Princess points straight at me and grins, on the verge of giggles. 

Me: ... (Shooting daggers out of my eyes)

The Hubbs is doubled over in his seat.  I think he may need to start breathing into a paper bag soon.

The Princess carefully forms a fist with her left hand, placing it against her chest and moving it in a small circle, perfectly displaying the sign for "sorry" while pointing her spoon at my face and belly laughing.

What do I choose to take from this?  The fact that she said she was sorry.  So she didn't mean it.  What five-year-old does, really?

Look, Mom...I'm People!

In case you don't know us in real life, The Princess is actually our third child.  Our kids are each a year apart, all born in the spring. 

Our oldest, Bubbles, tends to have skin issues from time to time.  These issues range in type, but the one thing they all have in common is her ability to obsess about them and make them worse.  Only one thing seems to cure her obsession: shirts.

Stick this kid in a tee shirt, and she's as happy as a pig in...ahem.  Well, I'm sure you get the idea.

She bounds around the house with her head held high, grinning and wagging her whole body.  Sometimes, I guess it's the little things that make all the difference in a girl's day.

Gap

Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but there is nothing cuter in my book than the gap between her teeth.

Loose

For nearly the last week, The Princess has had a new pastime: playing with her loose tooth.

It weebles.

It wobbles.

It wiggles.

And, apparently, it falls out.  Sometime during my flight to San Francisco for work, my girl lost her first tooth.  I found out when I called to check in with The Hubbs as my plane was taxiing to the gate.

You know what kills me?  I missed it.  I know there's no way to regulate these things, but there's a small part of me that really wishes it would have happened just a few hours earlier so I'd have been there.

But maybe if I'm really, super sweet on the phone, The Hubbs will send me a picture.  Ahem, cough, cough.  Hint, hint.  NUDGE.

I can't believe how big she's getting.  Our little girl isn't so little anymore.  And when I talked to her from the hotel, she busted out laughing when I mentioned her tooth.  I don't know which is bigger: the loss of the tooth or the fact that she actually listened to me on the phone.

Down For the Count

One of my New Year's resolutions for 2013 is to post here once a week. I came up with a schedule I could work with, and I've been doing really well so far.

Until this weekend. On Saturday, The Princess came down with the flu. It hit The Hubbs and me last night. At this point, all three of us are down for the count.

So, until we're back on our feet, this will have to do. Talk to you soon, friends.

Even Teddy Bears Deserve a Break

Remember Butterscotch?

He quickly became a member of The Princess's elite royal guard, and the two of them found fast friends in each other.  Though he's big, Butterscotch is really a - forgive the pun - total teddy bear.  He loves his girl, and he puts all of his energy into keeping her happy, as any good bear would.

Even teddy bears deserve a break.  I'd go so far as to say that teddy bears sometimes need more of a break than the rest of us.  Have you ever been dragged across the house by a five-year-old with a death grip on your ear?

Butterscotch learned very quickly that the time to get his R&R in is while The Princess is at school.  Once she barges through that door, all bets are off.

Most days, we see him sipping coffee or hoarding honey.  Sometimes, if we're very sneaky, we might even catch him reading.

Raising a five-year-old is hard work, you know.  If you ask me, this bear has earned some time to kick back and enjoy a good book.

These Boots Are Made For Clompin'

Somebody stole her momma's boots, and she is currently clompin' around the house.

Mere minutes after snapping this picture, The Princess and I were face-to-face in the middle of a monstrous community giggle fit.  She snorted like a pig and then found that so hilarious that she flailed around like only she can do...and whacked my nose so hard I saw nothing but a flash of white for a moment.  Now it's numb.  Here's hopin' I don't end up at the office with two black eyes tomorrow.

But, ya know, even if I do, it'll totally be worth it.

I am simply amazed every single day by this little girl.  It's all of the little things, really, that are just so BIG in our house.  Even a year ago, I don't know if I would have been able to take a picture of my girl looking at the camera.  At that time, she wasn't so engaged.  If I laughed, she usually didn't.  Her idea of playing pretty much consisted of sitting alone in her room and stimming on one object past the point of obsession, screaming bloody murder when she finally realized that she simply couldn't stop what she was doing, that the activity had taken over and she didn't know how to move onto something else.  Interactions by that point largely consisted of prying the object out of her fingers while she screamed and cried and ran away.

So you see why this would be worth two black eyes, right?

Yeah.  Me, too.

Cousin E's Birthday Party

Where does the time go?

I can hardly believe it's been a year since our beautiful goddaughter, E, was born.  Okay, well, it'll be a year tomorrow, but her party was this Saturday.

This generation of girls, with The Princess being the oldest and E the youngest (so far), well...they amaze me.  I love seeing how they interact with each other and assert their independence in their own little ways.  It seems like their personalities are ingrained almost from day one, and it really is a joy to sit back and observe them.

E, the Birthday Girl, showin' off her bunny ears.

K helping E out with the cake...E really wanted to see what she was doing.

The Princess and Nana

The more of these parties we go to, the more comfortable The Princess is with the huge rowdy group of folks we're lucky to call our family.

And, though I don't like to dwell on the negative, I've kind of felt as though I've been missing out the last few years.  The last big party we had for The Princess was at her own first birthday, for what should be fairly obvious reasons by this point.  I freely admit to my crying jag last year when I realized I wouldn't be able to throw a big party for her fifth birthday.  Five is one of the big milestone years in my family, and it broke my heart that I couldn't have the party, but it was more important to me for her to be comfortable.

Now, seeing how well she is interacting with everyone and self-regulating when she needs to, I'm starting to think there may be hope yet.

That's right.  We're going to have a birthday party this year.  Lord help us.  We'll probably ask everyone to sing in whispers, and she likely won't last more than a minute or two opening gifts, but we're gonna try it.

Here's hopin' there are half as many smiles that day as we saw this weekend.

Keeping a Straight Face

Okay, you're all aware of The Princess's shiny new ability to mimic.  She's parroting actions, gestures, facial expressions, even some sounds.  It's amazing.

But.

How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face when I'm trying to scold her and she mirrors my stance - hands on hips, stern eyebrows, the whole nine yards?

The answer: I'm not.  It's cool.  It's new.  It's fun.  And there's no way I'm keepin' a straight face.  At least not yet.

My girl, who will be turning six in three months, is finally starting to play some of the games we've been trying for since she was a baby.  I think I'll just soak it all up and enjoy every moment, thank you very much.

Age Appropriate

If you're anything like me, those two words together make you cringe, grind your teeth a little, and - perhaps - start to twitch around your right eye.  Not that I would know anything about that.

As moms, we all have those pet peeves we can't seem to get over.  While they may seem trivial to some outsiders, they are very real and very big to those of us who take issue with them.  "Age appropriate" is one of mine.  You know, those seemingly harmless little numbers on every toy on the market...the ones that guide the consumer by telling them what age group said toy should be appropriate for on a developmental scale.

I vote we do away with these damned things altogether.  Who's with me?

This Christmas, The Princess received a gift card to Toys 'R' Us and some cash from a couple of her great aunties and uncles.  A couple of months before Christmas, The Hubbs' iPad crapped out, so our girl had been without her touch-screen educational apps for a while by that point.

Thinking we were doing something good, we threw in about $30 of our own money along with the gift card and cash, and we purchased a LeapFrog LeapPad2 from our local Toys 'R' Us.  The age range on the package was 3-9 years.  The Princess is going to turn 6 in April.

Well.  You can see where this is going, can't you?

The LeapFrog LeapPad2 is lightyears ahead of my girl's abilities.  Forget the fact that you have to purchase games and apps separately...I'll just focus on the developmental challenges. 

On-off switch?  Fine. 

Login screen where the child has to choose his or her picture and name from a field of at least 5 choices, even if he or she is the only user?  Discouraging.

The fact that the Internet cannot be accessed on the machine itself?  Perfect.  Exactly what I wanted.

Level of verbal instructions given for each and every game/app the thing came with?  Far too advanced.

General process for getting into desirable locations and getting things done?  Way too complicated.

Thankfully, our local Toys 'R' Us agreed to let us return the tablet for a cash refund and $25 store credit that same day.  I was feeling about "this big" by that time.  You know how it goes.  The fact that they were willing to work with us made it a little better.

Once I got over myself, we made another trip to the same store a couple of days later.  This trip was miles better than the one before.  The Princess found two toys she absolutely loves.  The fact that they each have an age range of 9-36 months does not bother me in the slightest.  In fact, I believe I've learned a little lesson here.

I'm done with age range labels.  Who the hell are you, you pretentious, colorful cardboard box, to tell me what's appropriate for my kid.  She smiles, it's all good.  And you can shove those age ranges where the smiley-face yellow cartoon sun don't shine.