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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

13...and Lucky

Funny enough, the number 13 always makes me think of luck.  I know plenty of people who steer clear of it...and plenty more who count it among their good luck charms. 

When the gears in my head started turning, I realized I don't say this enough: I am the luckiest girl in the world.  I've been blessed with a wonderful husband, a one-of-a-kind, super-special daughter, the two best dogs I've ever met, and a fabulously charmed life.

Yes, I work Monday through Friday.

No, I don't make a fortune.  Not even close.

But that's not what it's about.  After a busy day at work and a tough night at school, I get to come home to my beloved family.

Really, who could ask for more?

16...and Cousins

This Thanksgiving, we all hopped in our little maroon car and did the whole over-the-river-and-through-the-woods thing.

Arriving an hour or so early, we had a chance to hang out with JAK, Nana, Grampy, Great Grammie, and Great Grampy before the crowds descended.

The Princess and The Bear were inseparable for most of the day, much of which was spent with K leading our girl around by the hand.

Two years ago - hell, even last year - I would never have thought this possible.

Every day, I stand in awe of our girl. And, though I think it almost constantly, I can't remember the last time I typed it out loud:

Thank God for the team of people who have contributed to The Princess's happiness, wellbeing, and emergence from this debilitating shell we call autism.

For without you, you wonderful individuals, this little girl may not have any idea how wonderful it can be to have cousins.