I'll be playing here all week

My brother in law told me a joke. A joke that I could actually remember and repeat. Ok, here it goes:

This guy goes to his doctor. His doctor asks him how he is feeling and the guy says "I don't know doc, I can't get the song 'Delilah' out of my head. It is driving me nuts'. The doctor says to him 'it sounds to me like you have Tom Jones Syndrome.' The guy is alarmed and he says to his doc- 'gee, doctor, is it common?' The doctor pauses for a moment and says, 'well, it's not unusual'.

Badump bump. And on that note, I think I am heading off to sleep.
Once again, Happy New Year!

Resolutions, we don't need no stinkin resolutions!

First of all, Happy New Year!!! Second of all, I really am not a huge fan of new year's eve and all it's festivities. I never was and each year this time rolls around and I feel more and more guilty that I am not a party animal. So I will try and embrace this new year with some centering calm and un-self destructive thoughts. I really don't want to think about the dreaded resolutions. Even when you swear up and down that you won't be having any this year, they are still there like the evil thoughts that pop up when you are trying your hardest to not have evil thoughts (does this sound problematic to anyone?). I don't need any help coming up with a list of my shortcomings, especially at the end of a long and exhausting (and sometimes exhilarating and joyous) year. I carry an unwritten list of things I would love to change about myself at all times, it's in my makeup bag with my chapstick.
At any rate, I am sitting here on new year's eve with bubs. He is going to sleep in a little while. My husband has volunteered to work tonight and tomorrow and I am kind of bugged that he chose the almighty dollar over his blushing bride. I guess I should only be partly insulted because we really do need the money although I question if his working tonight would have made any difference in the big picture for us financially. It just doesn't feel right, even though we would have probably fallen asleep long before the ball dropped. I think I am going to make a list of all the things I am thankful for tonight and call it an end to 2007.
Happy New Years!!!!!

It's a fish eat fish world

There has been a terrible occurrence in our fish tank over the weekend. Almost too horrid for words, almost. Back story-my hubs finally cleaned out our fish tank around a month ago. We have a small freshwater tank which was mainly for bubs to enjoy. Up until the point at which he finally cleaned it, we had an algae overgrowth. Bubs thought it was seaweed, he was so excited. It looked like the scene in nemo where they clogged the filter with the pebble. Once the tank was cleaned out we found the water to be terribly cloudy. Almost so thick you could hardly see the fish. We took a sample of the water to our local pet store, which happens to have an enormous aquarium department (it's a really cool place). They said that there was bacteria in the water and we would have to keep the light off and only feed them every two days. Now, I am no fish tank expert, but in my opinion that seemed a little abusive to me, almost criminal. However, we had faith in our pet store experts and we wanted our tank to clear up.

We have been doing the 'protocol' for almost two weeks and the tank is starting to clear up. But it came at a price. My husband was checking all the vital stats for the tank (temp and water level and stuff) and he discovered a brutal event had taken place. I was taking a shower and he came in to tell me that perhaps feeding them every two days wasn't such a great idea. He found the remains (part of the tail) of a neon tetra in the filter. It seems that one of the 'not so fit' fish succumbed to Darwin's theory in a moment of fish tank starvation. My thoughts immediately turned to that crash in the Andes, (I never did actually see that movie) and I was really disturbed to realize that I am harboring such crazed little creatures in my living room . I was also overcome with guilt that we drove them to it. I will never look at my fish tank the same EVER again.

I am also making sure to feed the little bastards every morning from now on.

A puzzle piece shaped lump of coal for me.

I am spent. My days are spent cataloguing the already bought gifts, wrapped and tagged as well as the yet to be purchased ones, and the strategy for obtaining these items. I feel like the clock is ticking. My son is really stressing me out. Big time.
Tonight bubs was in the tub, for a really long time. I was hanging out with him and he had a bunch of his sea creatures in a tupperware container. It was also filled with water and perched anxiously on the ledge of the tub. I proceeded to explain to bubs that this was a no go. We couldn't spill the water all over the floor. He appeared to understand me. I went out of the bathroom, but still hovered close by. I hear the lovely sound of water gushing and then a little voice say 'uh oh, I am sorry'. Mind you, I am glad bubs has manners but he says 'I'm sorry' a lot, and only some of the time does he actually mean it. Water was every where. I didn't get mad, and I was proud of myself for that because I am really shot right now. I proceeded to clean up using every available towel. I told bubs bath time was over. He wasn't being a good listener and he had to get out of the tub. At this point my sweet child was taken over by a crazed demon spirit. I couldn't get him out of the tub without hurting him and myself. So I took out all of the toys. He then grabbed the bath mat and threw it in the tub. Ok, I am starting to get a little mad now. The rug was already sopping wet, I threw it in the sink and I grabbed the drenched bath mat. I walked out of the bathroom but stayed right outside the door. I was hoping he would calm down. No such luck. He wanted his bath toys, so he got out of the tub and then I scooped him up and placed him in the living room. He started screaming and yelling and hitting me. Luckily we still have the safety gate up in this room so I closed it up and buckled down in the next room. It really unnerves me. First of all poor bubs was naked and pacing back and forth screaming about wanting to go back into the tub. I did my best planned ignoring yet again. Perhaps my best isn't good enough. This went on for, oh, an eternity. The whole time I started freaking out. What the hell is going on here? I am seriously worried that some kind of new 'behavior' is popping up here and I just start envisioning bubs as a teenager having these kinds of episodes, ugh, it truly is dark and awful. It's like all the good stuff goes poof in an instant.Finally I sensed a lull. He told me he wanted out and in my calm zombie voice I told him I would come in and sit with him. He climbed up into my lap and I hugged him. I hugged him to comfort him as well as myself. He let me put his pajamas on and we went up to bed as if nothing ever happened.
Is it too much sugar? Is it an autism thing? Do four year olds typically throw crazy tantrums? Is it too much santa talk? Ask again later.

The Winter of our Discontent

My son has been kind of tantrumy lately. It is a big source of worry for me. Yesterday afternoon bubs came home from school (he didn't earn his reinforcer from preschool) and he decided he wanted to go outside and jump on the trampoline. It was freezing out. So we said no and of course the screaming and yelling began. My husband was going outside to finally switch the autumn flag out for the winter flag (I am a seasonal decorating nazi) and he asked bubs if he wanted to come out and help. He said yes and then we had some more behavior. He wanted to wear my crocs outside and kept insisting they were his. Then came the gloves. He wouldn't put them on. I finally got him to concede and he was so uncooperative, I was starting to get scared that he didn't understand the concept of 'gloves', with each finger having a home. Ok, we got through all of that-barely, but he went out somewhat bundled up. Within the next two minutes I hear blood curdling screams. I open the door and my bubs is having a near nervous breakdown over the flag. It seems he doesn't want the new flag. He wants the old one up. Now mind you, the flag was never spoken about before in any way shape or form. No mention of a flag ever. We have had them up since we have been at this house and changed them according to the seasons. Screams. We get the screamer inside lest someone decide to call child protective services on us. My husband makes the mistake of coming in the house with the old flag. Bubs is just beside himself. Of course I am starting to get really worried and all of those familiar 'dark thoughts' come sneaking in the back door of my soul. Let's say I am now perseverating on the perseverations.
Someone else needs to explain to my dear husband that the time to explain the changing of the seasons to a four year old is NOT when he is writhing on the floor screaming in frustration. Chances are, the concept is not going to 'stick'. I do my best to 'planned ignore' the behavior, while being a loving mom at the same time. I am not sure it worked. Bubs carried on for over 45 minutes, the whole time I am hearing phantom sound bytes of 'typical for a child on the spectrum.....'controlling behavior'....'fixations on unusual items'.... yada yada yada ...don't stop worrying about this shit ever....
I went into the kitchen to finish 'cooking' bubs' beloved dinosaur chicken nugget bites and he came in and in the last futile attempts at anger said 'I am mad, mommy... winter is terrible to me... terrible to me!' . It was as if he was summoning up the worst word he had in him (by some miracle of god he hasn't started cursing yet!). I never heard him say the word 'terrible'. He then asked me if we could put the old flag up later. Ahhh, the proverbial 'later', got to love the vagueness of that. 'Sure', I said, 'We will put it back up later' (and I had my fingers crossed that he would forget about it). He happily skipped away and crisis over, for now.

Wisdom

My sister called me yesterday with a funny story about her son. He is six and is also on the spectrum. She put up her tree yesterday and her husband has this star trek ornament from his childhood. My sister is careful to hide that baby somewhere where her son won't see it. It's actually a little star ship enterprise and it has a button on top where you press to hear different snippets of star trek wisdom. The reason it was hidden was because her son likes to press the button over and over again and script the lines from it. Well he found it, of course. My sister said he could say the lines perfectly in the order that they come out when the button is pressed. If he doesn't understand a word he will 'replace' it with one that sounds appropriate. He is a funny kid, he seriously cracks me up. So my sister hears him say 'live long and eat pasta'. I can imagine Spock saying that sitting at the table getting ready to dig in to a nice big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, can you picture it?
I will file that one away with 'pirates of the carrots and beans'. My nephew is awesome!

The Sick House

So my cold still lingers, but the hacking cough has slowed down somewhat and I can almost breathe out of my left nostril. I think I am just getting used to it. My poor bubs has gotten a nasty case of pink eye though. I knew he wouldn't come out of this unscathed. The school nurse called yesterday just as I was cozily ensconced in my covers. So I went to pick him up from school. He didn't understand why he had to go home, as the crud was oozing out of his eyes. Poor guy.
I couldn't get a doctor's appointment for him till six that night. I was really anticipating an office full of sick kids and their mom's who would just grimace when they saw my poor bubs unfortunate eyes. Thankfully though, the office was nice and empty. I usually don't mind this ped's office. I am on my fourth one since we moved to this area. I never thought of myself as a difficult mom, and I still don't. I just have problems with and very little patience with pediatricians for some reason. We got into our little room and the nurse came in. She seemed like one of those people who appeared nice on the surface but was really a nut job underneath. Kind of like latent road rage. She was nice enough with us though. Most of the time I don't go into the whole 'pdd thing'. The doctor knows us so I don't have to go through the whole story every time. This nurse didn't know us though. She was giving bubs all kinds of ten step directives and things, he was ok with them. He couldn't keep his hands of the blood pressure thing, he just loves that little balloon thing. I could see she was getting annoyed. I totally understand, it's 6 at night and she's had a whole day full of snotty crusty kids badgering her. While she was taking the b.p. he was kind of singing and she told him he had to be quiet. Then he started kicking her while she was in front of him listening to his chest. I told him to stop and I tried to explain that he wasn't being aggressive, it was more of a sensory thing. I don't allow bubs to kick or hit people, but I felt that I wanted her to know why he was doing it. So she was just mildly annoyed by us. When the doctor came in, I had asked about when he could return to school and she asked me what school he went to. So I told her. Bubs school has the word 'autism' in it's name. I usually don't share this info with people, unless they need to know and this chickie needed to know. It was like a light bulb went off in her head and she suddenly morphed into florence nightingale on the spot. She started talking to my son as if he were deaf or spoke another language and she was my new best friend. She even wiped the gunk off of bubs eyes and gave me extra gauze to take home and do it myself. Honestly, I was kind of taken aback by this sudden shift of behavior. She must have been having some major bad thoughts about us and felt terribly guilty and needed to redeem herself in the remaining minutes of our visit.I want bubs to be treated as an equal but I also want him treated kindly. I don't want phony balonies in his life, like this lady. Although the new version of her was a marked improvement over the 'old her'.
Perhaps I am too sensitive today.

under the weather

Bonbon momma is not feeling good. I went to the doctor today and he told me I had a bad cold. A bad cold? Are you kidding me? This is not a bad cold, this is the plague. He did say that my cough required the z-pack and some allegra. I am usually not a fan of antibiotics unless absolutely necessary, but I really felt in this case I would concede. Besides, I only really care about what they do to my son's gut at this point in time. My gut is old and tired and probably beyond repair. He did offer to give me some 'strong cough medicine' but I graciously turned it down, the trooper that I am. As much as I would love me some codeine confections, I still need to be lucid in case bubs comes down with this horrendous illness (which I am hoping against hope doesn't happen).
At any rate, I am just knocked on my big fat butt right now. I'll be back and ranting in no time.

Thank you baby bumblebee, really.

It seems like every time my son hears music in any form, be it dora's theme song, or even his own grandiose and somewhat random humming of 'five golden rings' (just that very line) he must hit me. It doesn't even matter if I am in the same room, he will find me. It's not just a single slap of anger or frustration. It usually has nothing to do with that. It's more of a compulsive need to tap out a rhythm(on my back). How do I know this? It's because when I asked him 'why are you hitting me?' he says 'mommy's a drum'. I usually just shoo him away and thank my lucky stars that I am currently the only recipient of his musical endeavors. Tonight after his tub he requested 'numbers', which is the babybumblebee counting dvd. I find it a little mundane, but bubs loves it. Basically it's a bunch of kids counting things. Counting things over and over again. They go from one to ten. Somewhere around four, bubs comes over to me (sitting at the computer of course) and hits me four times counting each 'tap' and says along with the dvd 'four, four hitting mommys'. Of course I think the dvd was four matchbox cars. I thought that was awfully creative, is there something wrong with this picture?