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.

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.