It was just a matter of time

I was waiting for it to happen. We were so close to leaving that I thought maybe it won’t. But it did today. I was in the living room when I noticed the front door was wide open. First thought, “Why don’t the kids close the door?” second thought, “William!” I ran to the door and looked down the hall. Will was just opening the glass fire door. He was wearing only a pair of underwear put on backwards with just a hint of crack showing. I ran full speed down the hall. I looked towards the elevator. No. I ran to the next hallway. There he is! He’s trying to open a random door! Luckily it was locked. I don’t know how I would have explained that one as Will and I both ran through their apartment.

I’m glad I caught him within seconds of leaving. That would have been a little embarrassing going from door to door looking for a boy with crack.

Overheard from the front seat

Last night, Jake and Lizzy got their yellow belts. On the way to Mad Willies to get ice cream to celebrate, Jake's friend said to him. "When we get our black belts we'll probably be teenagers and can drive. We can go to a bar and buy beer to celebrate."

There was a pause. I waited to hear if Jake would respond. Silence. Then I said, "We don't drink." But if we did, Jake would have a drinking buddy.

Banished from the Balcony

Yesterday I wrote about how much Will liked to play on the balcony naked. Well, he ran out on the balcony and knocked the screen door out. He broke it. I tried to put it back in but it won’t slide. Oops, there goes our deposit. But worse than that, now he can’t play out there because unfortunately I hate bugs more than I love him (not really). I had to capture a bee and release it into the wild after it flew into our apartment; and since I’m not really an animal person that was a waste of 5 minutes that I could have spent watching mindless TV. Thus poor William will be banished from the balcony for three weeks until we move into our house.

How dare you, Rachel Ray!

I’m sure everyone not living under a rock has heard the horrifying news about Rachel Ray. Her stylist wrapped her in a paisley scarf that apparently looked like a keffiyeh if you squinted and tilted your head. Horror, horror! I think we should ban all scarves so as not to be confused with Yasser Arafat. I don’t care if he is dead someone may think I am a bearded old guy if I wear a scarf.

Quite frankly, I don’t think we should stop there. I am really not pleased with the Chinese record on human rights. Let’s ban Chinese food and North Korean food. Iranian food . . . well, why don’t we just drop Prez. Bush off in Iran and tell him not to come home to Texas till he’s sorted out that mess. And if he never fixes the problem well then, I guess we win either way.

FREEDOM

Will has discovered the balcony. He likes to go out there and sit, or stomp round. He took about five blankets and several pillows out there the other day. I guess even Will wants his own room. My husband is a little concerned that he is hanging out there mostly naked. I really don’t care. So what if it’s right next to route 9? We’re on the fifth floor. They’re driving to fast to notice. And a cute little squishy boy is happy watching the traffic, looking at the trees and stomping around.

America’s Most Wanted Here I Come

I’m a little bit of a criminal. It all started when I opened a letter that stated, “Notice of Warrant to Collect Your Taxes.” Say what? We didn’t pay the excise tax on the car we sold because we didn’t own it anymore. So naturally, they issued a warrant. I read the letter very carefully to see if I would be taking a vacation from my children in a secure facility. No, but someone would come looking for me in thirty days.

My husband hand delivered the information to the town offices but somehow it mysteriously disappeared. The assessor suggested that maybe my husband just didn’t quite give her all the information because he was stupid. I thought about that for a second, thought about her position of power over me, and politely agreed.

I regathered all the information to take to the city. I did another criminal act (getting to be quite a habit now isn’t it!) and took the paperwork down to the city offices. I paid my warrant fines of 32 dollars and 67 cents which ironically is more than the original excise tax.

Question: Does my town really think I wouldn’t pay $31 if I owed it? Perhaps it’s worth $31 to me to have a driver’s license.

Jake

"My dinner food section is full, but my desert food section is not."

I can't think of a polite title for this.

My kids like to play hide and go seek. They play it in our two bedroom apartment. I’ve seen them try to play it in the waiting area at MyGym. They play it wherever they can. Yesterday, we were at my husband’s office for about an hour. He is the only one who works at that office so there are four empty offices and a bunch of office furniture.

After they got bored of spinning and pushing each other around on the chairs they decided to play hide and go seek. They’re hiding in cupboards, under desks, wherever they find a cubbyhole. I walked into an office. Bri is stuck in a garbage can! I don’t know why she thought she could fit! I try to pull her out. I can’t. Maybe I’m laughing too hard. Don’t worry. We got it off.

I don’t know what to say. That’s the kind of mother I am.

Is this one of the most gorgeous looking couches you have ever seen?

I think I love this Couch!

Query

Who’s up for taking bets on whether the water in my apartment will be turned off again before I move?

Mystic Seaport

The family, with the exception of Jake who always prefers to play with friends or the game cube, was wild to go to the Mystic Seaport in Mystic, Connecticut. We had been trying to get there for months. Yesterday, we piled into the van and headed south. The ride there was great! I told the kids if they didn’t fight on the way down they could watch "Superman Returns" on the way back.

Mystic is an interesting town. We passed Mystic Pizza, then a protest against Bush. Sweet! Great town maybe we could move here. At least that’s what I thought until we passed a protest on the way back against, I guess, evil. All I know is there were a couple of guys carrying placards quoting scripture telling us . . . Well, it really wasn’t clear. But it was a little creepy in a religious fanatic kind of way.

Once we got there the kids ran in different directions. They really liked the hands on activities but they wanted to play more than look at things. It was moderately stressful the whole time. We went to the Art Nook, Jake wanted to play with the props rather than create. It’s the 40/60 thing. His behavior is within acceptable limits but just barely and you are not pleased. My husband took the three youngest to the Children’s Museum to play and Bri and I stayed in the Art Nook. That was the most enjoyable part of the day. At least for me, my poor husband was the recipient of multiple instances of the LOOK.

We looked at a lot of ships. The kids harpoon a pink hula hoop. I see some dead fish carcasses nailed to a board. Then, Will ran back to the Children’s Museum. I think he was tired and didn’t want to see any more dusty museums. He started taking off his shoes and socks. I told him “No” several times. It didn’t go over well. He did the autistic equivalent of yelling, “WOMAN, LEAVE ME IN PEACE!” He threw a massive screaming fit. I get behavioral on his butt, and I tell him several times to carry his shoes and we loudly leave much to relief of the toddlers and their parents.

I am so ready to go. My husband asks where we should stop for dinner. I told him there was no way I was going to take the children inside a restaurant. So, we went through the drive through at Wendy’s. As we drive away I think, “I’m so glad that I bought a year family membership.” And of course, we lost the free hat they gave us for signing up.

How about a foot rub with that?

Me: "Would you like another taco?"
Bri: "Yes."
Me. "Ok, go ahead and make one."
Bri: "Never mind."
Me: "If I was making it, would you want another?"
Bri: "Yes."
Me: "Grrrrrr."

Beware the Geese of May

Jake came home from school and said he was late because his friend Yardley was trying to adopt a goose. An hour later a different friend came over to look for Yardley. Jake told him where Yardley was, and then became worried that Yardley would be pecked by the goose. I said that a goose is not in the top ten most dangerous animals list. Jake hotly replied that there were 6 geese and 12 goslings and Yarley was in a significant amount of danger. Unsympathetically, I replied that he needed to finish his homework before he rescued his friend from the dangerous and deadly gaggle of geese.

Where did this gooseanoia come from? Why did he choose to be afraid of geese? I have an irrational fear of sharks. Why not pick a scary animal like that? You might as well be scared of squirrels! Wait. . . . I remember being scared when a squirrel ran down the sidewalk towards me. It was so out of character for a squirrel that I thought it might be rabid. And I ran away. Come to think of it -- I am scared of birds, and dogs, and cows, and sharks, and chickens, and bugs. I am pretty much scared of all animal life. The only thing I am not scared of are bees and I’m allergic to them. If I got close to a goose it might scare me too. Alright, I guess I can't blame the gooseanoia on my husband's genetics.

I guess that makes me the evil queen

I told Will to eat an apple. He opened the fridge, pulled out the drawer, took out an apple, and took a bite. Then put it back.

And I was proud, so very, very proud!

It was pride night at Hemenway last night. I hoped that my husband would get home in time to watch Will but no. So, I loaded the kids in the van and drove to Hemenway. I wanted to listen to music but instead listened to the kids argue the entire time about whose class we would visit first! I circled the school looking for a place to park but was forced to park at a shopping center and walk in. Jake and Lizzy played the Are You Going to Run into the Street game. Then Lizzy decided to try the Psych! I don’t need my mother to cross a busy street game.

We did make it in the building without any loss of life so the evening started well. We stopped at Lizzy’s room first. I tried to get Will interested in the toys and tried to get Jake to watch Will. Didn’t succeed at either. I tried to look at all Lizzy’s work while keeping an eye on Will. Unfortunately, Lizzy’s teacher left of list of 15 items we should do in the class and Lizzy felt very strongly that we should do all of them. So, in between visiting the Worm Hotel and writing a love note to the class; I tried to drag Jake away from the toys and drag Will to the toys.

The classroom was wall to wall people. Will hit a couple of five years olds with the rocking chair, rearranged the calendar, dumped out some books and drew in yellow marker over a welcome board. A couple of parents gave me the LOOK. Little FYI for you: the LOOK only works if the person receiving the LOOK cares. I am so over the LOOK. You can give me the LOOK all day if you want. I still won’t care. If you give me LOOK long enough, I’ll walk over and tell you he’s autistic then watch you stammer with embarrassment. However, Lizzy has a great teacher and I don’t want to wreak her classroom. I convince Lizzy we don’t need to read a book (item 14 on the list) and we leave.

I hang on to Will while watching Jake’s power point presentation on Komodo Dragons. I call my husband’s cell to see if he’s at the school yet. He is. I yell the classroom number in the phone but we get disconnected. I try again and yell it several times. It is so loud that I hope he understood. He shows up a few minutes later and rescues Will from my firm grasp on his shirt. I ran into a few friends but I’m soon ready to go. Problem --can’t find Jake! (Wow didn’t see that one coming.) I look in a few classrooms. I recruit a few of his friends to look for him. I roam the halls considering whether I should ask the principle to page him. I return to the classroom. He’s there. I ask him where he went. “I didn’t leave. I was in the classroom.”

Where, under a desk?

Another conversation with my dad

Dad: "You're precious."
Me: "You're precious."
Dad: "We could be a candy bar."
Me: "Yeah."
Dad: "But what kind?"
Me: "Something with marshmallows." (because we're both fluffy)
Dad: "Chocolate, if it doesn't have chocolate I'm not involved."
Me: "And nuts."

No, Virginia, There is no Santa Claus

As I was driving Lizzy and Jacob to Tae Kwan Do, I overheard Lizzy and Bri arguing over the tooth fairy.

“It doesn’t exist.”
“Then who gives you the money?”
“Mom.”
“What about Santa Claus?”
“He doesn’t exist either.”

One would think that the six year old would be the one arguing for the existence of fairies. No, it was Bri. She was desperately trying to extend Lizzy’s childhood. Jake, of course, took the side of crushing faith, joy and folklore. Poor Bri, she tried so hard.

Cheap Therapy

I love to drive in my car sans children and listen to music. It’s like therapy. A couple of months ago when I realized that my life sucked; a week of listening to James Blunt’s All the Lost Souls, loudly enough to drown out my children’s voices really made me feel better. Sure, I could have taken up drinking but then I would have needed to start earlier and earlier each day. Eventually, I would have needed a drink before I made breakfast and then where would we be? So for now it’s James and me in the car. And I remember when I was 21 and smokin’.

Like a record baby

This morning, a soft little body wearing only a pair of underwear put on backwards, crawled in bed next to me to cuddle. I like to feel his soft skin. He started reciting Dr. Seuss. “Think of night, think of bright” over and over again. He was like a CD stuttering.

The eleventh commandment (that I'm sure was left off inadvertently): Thou shalt not smite thy brother

I was sitting next to Jake in the pew when suddenly he picks up a hymnal and hits himself in the forehead. What!? He follows that up by kneeing the pew in front of him. I don’t know why. Maybe he was bored. Probably he was just expressing his feelings at being forced to go to church. It just got better from there. I look over at my husband who is taking a nap while I’m trying to keep the kids contained in our area. When we got home the kids start talking about smiting each other. I told Lizzy to stop smiting Jake and she responds, “I’m not smiting him. I’m pretending to kick him.” At least they are picking something up from church.

I'm tired of going to the beach

Yesterday, after I got home from getting my hair cut; my husband said he wanted to get the kids out of the apartment. Where else would we go but the beach? He wanted to check out Plymouth beaches so we drove down there and got stuck in traffic. What should have taken an hour and fifteen minutes or so ended up taking two. I put Ben Lee’ Awake is the New Sleep in to play.

And since I wasn’t driving it was fine that we were at a dead stop in the car. At least until Will woke up from a wheat inspired coma in the car. He awoke wired and ready to par-ty! Ok, ready to do what passes for a party for him. He decided to sing/shout Old McDonald had a farm. My husband decided that listening to Will shout "a Gobble, Gobble here" was more interesting than Ben Lee and off went the radio. Round two of the radio wars to my husband. He decided to further torture his losing opponent by not only singing along but encouraging the other three medium people in the van to sing. I was left to wonder, “What happened? This was all so pleasant three minutes ago.”

We arrive at the beach and I told my husband that the only thing that will make this trip bearable is if I get a lobster roll at a clam shack. So, he drove off the find one and the kids immediately scatter. Great. I follow Will as he bears the most watching. After sitting down in the ocean for a while he decides to go to the playground. I follow him over. He takes off his shorts because they are wet. I shout “nooooo” and get to him before he finishes pulling down his underwear. I know that this would cause most of you to grab him, his shorts and slink away. But not me because I’m thinking, “Hey at least I caught him before he streaked over to the swing set.” I’m trying to watch him while simultaneously keeping an eye on the other three. I see Liz run over to the cars looking for me and I hope she doesn’t get kidnapped but I can’t leave Will. I call for her. She hears me but assumes someone is calling for a different Lizzy. She gives up and goes back over by Bri and Jake.

After about an hour the kids are done. They are cold but we only have one towel. There is significant wailing and moaning while we wait and wait and wait for my husband to return with the lobster roll and the towels. He returned with fried clams, shrimp, scallops and fish cakes as well. Lizzy liked the clams. Jake ate the french fries and surprisingly enough Will did too. I decided that I preferred the shrimp. As we drove home my husband remarked that he had spent the entire time driving or waiting in line. All in all a delightful afternoon and well worth the three hour drive time.

And it does tricks!

My hair and I have an interesting history. I used to cut it myself. Because if you’re not picky about the end result it really doesn’t matter who cuts it. I like it short but for some still unfathomable reason I decided to grow it out while my husband was in grad school. So, I spent 3 years growing it out and probably about 5 not knowing what to do with it. But eventually I grew tired of looking like a frump. And I decided I needed an alternative to looking like I had fifteen children, never left the house and didn’t own a mirror.

One of my friends has driven up to New Hampshire to get her hair done for years. She found a hairdresser up there that she really likes and continued to go up there even when she moved back to Massachusetts. She invited me to go with her. I thought, (shrug) “It’s a two hour commute for a half hour haircut. I’m in!” So, every six weeks my friend, her husband, their three kids and I drive up to New Hampshire to get our hair cut and I return about six hours after I leave. Quite frankly, it would be fine with me if it took all day.

The first time I went up with my friend she told her hairdresser Tara that I needed a conservative haircut. I thought, “What do you mean conservative? I’m a liberal!” But I figured it out. We don’t tell the Tara how to cut our hair or in my friend’s case what tint. We sit back and wait.

My hair can be trained to do what I want it to do. It takes about two months for it to figure out the style and then I’m pretty much set. When I had short hair I would wash it, towel dry it, part it, and comb in straight down all the way around. As my hair dried it would kind of feather itself back. Seriously! Tara cuts my hair about shoulder length with a few bangs and the bottom flips up. All was good in the world until about six months ago when Tara decided my hair should now curl under after two years of curling up. She blow dried my hair under. My hair was a little confused. “Down? Down!?!” My hair became a little bipolar. By the time she finished cutting my friend’s hair the bottom of one side of my hair had flipped up. It looked quite odd.

I imagined the left and right sides of my hair talking to each other.

“Up, Up we’re supposed to flip up!”

“Then why were we blow dried down, huh?”

“I’m really not comfortable with this sudden of a change? What’s next? Are we going to move to Texas and be colored blond?”

“You’re being ridiculous. No one said anything about moving.”

“I am not going!”

I send both of them to hair therapy. It took about two months for my hair to recover from the undercut hair fiasco. But now I can once again wash, towel dry, part and comb my hair straight down all around and have it flip up as it dries.

Field Trip

I took all the kids to the library last night because I had puttered around my day and went shopping with Marcy. I took everyone because I didn’t want Bri and Jake to play Game Cube while I was gone. It was not the brightest idea to go at 6:30 dragging them away from playing games. I envisioned a quick in and out trip. But . . .

Lizzy cried and whined over not getting to choose the movie because I didn’t check out the movie she wanted last week. Jake was shushed by a custodian. Will as usual headed straight for the Dr. Seuss books. He emptied the books from the shelves onto the table and stimmed with them.

I help Jake choose some new graphic novels and tell everyone it’s time to leave. The movie Lizzy wants to check out next week ends up in a librarian’s desk with Lizzy’s name on it. I check out three copies of Dr. Seuss’ The butter battle book. And Will’s not pleased that the four copies of The Foot Book have been left behind. He doesn’t realizes how lucky he is that I have peeps in the Children’s Section because otherwise we may not be allowed back.

Librarian Teri tells me that she has the identical model of Lizzy at home.

"Back off!"

Kids have little sensors that tell them who they should or should not bully. Like lions searching for prey, they target the weak. Jake sometimes gets picked on at school. He usually doesn’t tell anyone when he’s being picked on but if it gets bad he will. I don’t want him to get bullied but he needs to have some tools for dealing with it on his own. A lot of the things teachers tell children to say in those situations can be translated into “Please hurt me.” One thing he was taught to say was so bad that Brianne, yes Brianne laughed at him! A couple of weeks ago he talked to me about stuff at school and I told him to say, “Back off!” if anyone messes with him. I felt that it wasn’t a whiny “Leave me alone.” or “stop it.” Neither was it something that would escalate the situation. It was a power statement with just a hint of a threat (because that’s who I am). We talked about the tone it should be said in – strong, firm, low. I said that it may not always work but . . .

Anyway, he came home from school a couple of days ago and told me it worked. A kid had been tripping him. He told him to back off and he stopped. I’m brilliant (and self-congratulatory)!

Sad thing about that advice -- I’d completely forgotten having that conversation. Steel trap mind—that’s for sure!

A conversation with my dad

My dad: “I think I’m going to keep you.”

Me: “What you couldn’t sell me on the black market?”

My dad: “I put you up on EBay but I didn’t get any offers.”

A cornered rat will bite

Right now our family is like giant rats stuck in a maze of a two bedroom apartment. One rat gets to leave the two bedroom maze to work in a different maze. But at least it’s bigger and he doesn’t have to hear the little rattlings argue. Mama rat gets to hear the little rattlings argue because all the good toy cheese is in storage in Texas. Mama rat can’t send the baby rats to different rooms when they argue because there just aren’t that many rooms. However, I am starting to feel creative and may assign one or more rats to sleep in closets. I’ll say, “Now you have your own room!”

The apartment is sucking life out of me. At this point I have an irrational fear that I will never leave. I think that something will go wrong at closing and we won’t buy the house. My apartment peeps say I should stay and I think I just might. As evidence of my despair of ever leaving I have started buy items like canned goods and roller blade pads. It’s truly absurd as I would never let my kids roller blade in the parking lot! Obviously, I’m becoming irrational.

Well, my children have discovered a way to calm the Rat Queen. Jake just had me put on a blindfold and walked me to the kitchen; the kids had made dinner complete with a salad, set the table and were sitting down waiting for me. It really nice to know that if the apartment drives me completely psychotic the children won’t starve!

The walls are starting to crack

I am so excited! The Hannah Polling case where the government conceded that vaccines caused Hannah's autism may well be the tipping point. Now the former NIH Director Dr. Bernadine Healy said in an interview with CBS that there may be a link between autism and vaccines, and that she was disappointed with how the question of the link has been handled, and that no the question hasn't been answered.

Finally, the Red, White and Blue Wall of denial is starting to be breached!

Family Genetics AKA Superpowers

I’ve been having a lot of conversations with my dad lately, as he is concerned with my sanity lasting until we move into our house in June. The more I talk to him the more I realize how many genetic gifts I and my children have received from him. Recently he told me that he jumped off a roof in front of his friends when he was a kid. Brianne, also, as a young child jumped of the roof of my neighbor’s garage in front of her friend. I caught her the second time she jumped off. Chalk one up for genetics! Having the desire to jump off a roof coupled with the ability to survive. Sweet!

Early Warning System Failure

This it one of those day Will is into everything. He ate some wheat yesterday so it throws off his whole day and makes him crazy. I just went into the living room and found Will with something white smeared on his legs, stomach, hands and the couch. It smelled minty. Toothpaste. Not bad, considering what he has gotten into. We had a lotion phase, a fluff phase, a shampoo phase and much, much worse. Actually, he’ll smear anything he finds on himself. I buy the cheapest shampoo I can find because Will dumps it out. I don’t remember the last time we actually used a whole bottle on our hair. One time, Bri washed her hair once before Will dumped out the remainder of the bottle. Usually, we get at least five shampoos before we need a new bottle. I don’t mind Will getting into shampoo as much as I mind other things because at least clean up is easy. Once he smeared Eucerin all over himself and had greasy hair for several days because that stuff doesn’t wash out with soap! My dream house has a bathroom that is one giant shower for easy cleanup.

And to think I was contemplating buying a couch that wasn’t leather.

Ironically, I was just called away because Will dumped out a box of tapioca flour on the table. He dumped the water out of my roses earlier. One would think that with two other children in the room someone might notice when Will was into something, but no. Using Bri and Jake as an early warning system would be a dismal failure. We could be invaded by the Chinese and neither would notice as long as they didn’t turn off the TV!

Happy Mother’s Day!

So, far my mother’s day has been excellent. I slept in then had a lovely breakfast of a strawberry filled crepe, an omelet and half a grapefruit. I received a gazillion cards from the children. Brianne even made sure Will wrote me two. I got roses from my husband and the kids all chipped in to buy me a locket. My husband cooked all the meals and we had a gooey chocolate cake.

I love Mother’s Day!

Graphic Novels

I finally found something that Jake will read – Graphic Novels. Getting him to read was like pulling teeth, so it’s exciting for him to read a stack of books a week. What’s great is it’s not just about Superheros anymore. I found him graphic novels of The Wizard of Oz, Redwall, Black Beauty, Fables and even Beowulf; which brought back fond memories of acting in Beowulf the Musical in College. I’d rather have him read the actual story but I’ll settle. I’m just waiting for the graphic novel of the complete works of Shakespeare to come out!

Two Trained Killers

Liz has always been athletic. If she wants to be able to do something she’ll practice. I used to take her to open gym at the Y. She saw a girl lift herself up on the bar and spin around. She wanted to do that and she practiced until she could. She wants to shoot baskets so she’ll practice. Her athleticism intrigues me since neither I nor my husband have any. We assume Lizzy’s came from my brother. But regardless of where it comes from, I don’t want to waste it. So, I asked her if she wanted to take gymnastics or dance. No, she wanted karate -- yea, typical Lizzy.

I finally signed Liz and Jake up for Tae Kwon Do a couple of months ago. It’s really cool to see the progress in both of them. They both want their black belts. Fair warning, don’t mess with them. A couple of weeks ago my husband startled Lizzy, she immediately took a fighting stance. She’s 45 inches tall and less than 50 lbs. but don’t even think about messing with her! She will take you down.

MCAS

I went in to Will’s school today to see how Will did on the alternative MCAS. It was fun to see his stuff. He did well on reading comprehension which is great considering his teachers haven’t targeted it. He is going to get a new home therapist because Lindsey (Linzing according to Will) is too busy with school and work. His supervisor said that all the therapists fight over who gets to work with Will; so, hopefully they can find someone who works with him at school to do his home hours.

When I see Will at school all he wants to do is cuddle. In the OT room he said, “mom, bed sit.” So, we cuddled on the bean bag bed for five minutes. He likes to cuddle with his dad and me. He’ll say, “mom, bed sit,” and “dad, bed sit.” Then go to the doorway, check to make sure we’re still there, run to grab his blankets and come back and cuddle with both of us. Needless to say, it’s very cute but I am done cuddling sooner than he is.

Water Shortage Update

I got back to my apartment after exercising with the hope that the water would still be on. I tested it . . . it was. No time to waste! The clock was ticking! Would I make it? I quickly striped down and hopped in the shower. First shampoo the hair, then rinse it out. Would I make it? Success. I soap up. What is this? The water starts faultering, splurting from the shower head. It’s a race against time! Would I run out of water while still soapy? The Man replaced the regular showerheads with low flow on Monday. Would that be my undoing? Would I show up at a friend’s house soapy and begging for water? Or would I be reduced to lurking through neighborhoods looking for kiddy pools? Cupping my hands under the dribbling water I manage to catch enough to rinse myself off.

I feel like Scarlet O’Hara in the garden. Only I’m hoarding an orange juice jug filled with water because all my pitchers are in storage in Texas.

Laundry

Last night at 9:00, Brianne told me she had a concert today and she needs clean black pants and a white shirt. Of course, both of them are dirty. I drag my laundry downstairs and start washing. I notice my laundry card doesn’t have enough money on it to dry both loads so I try to load more money on it. Nope, not gonna happen because the machine is broken.

Quandary: which load should I dry? I choose to dry the dark clothes and drape my children’s underwear and socks around my apartment. This just gets better and better!

Quite Old

The closer I get to moving into an actual house the more I think about things I need to buy. I bought a new vacuum and a bread maker with gluten free cycle! Today I thought about what I would really like for Mother’s Day. I thought, “A laundry sorter would be nice.”

No really, I actually wanted one enough to google it. I am officially as old as my mother, and considering that people have actually asked if she was my sister; I think I am probably older than she is.

The icing on the cake is that when I asked my mom what she wanted for mother’s day she said lipstick.

Water Included?

The water in the apartment was turned off again today. This is the fifth day it’s been off since we moved here in December. The couple of days it was off during February vacation remains one of my most favorite memories. How often do I get to say, “No, Will don’t use the bathroom.” That must have been truly confusing as we generally encourage him to use it, and we leave him alone while he does.

I foolishly decide to exercise even though I know I can’t shower when I’m done and as a result will spend the rest of the day waiting for the water to be turned on. I exercised, then hung out in the social room while I waited for them to finish up in my apartment. I finally get in. The time comes to walk downstairs to pick up Will from the bus.

On my door is a note. Wait for it . . . the water in the building will be turned off on Thursday.

Against my Better Judgement . . .

Last night I was looking at my sons’ overgrown heads and thought I should really cut their hair. I started cutting their hair when they were very young and autistic. You really can’t ask anyone to cut the hair of a screaming, fighting, escape-artist of a child. I used to put William in the high chair, turn on Blue’s Clues, feed him suckers, have Jared hold his hands down and buzz his hair off as quickly as possible while he screamed at the top of his lungs. He screamed so gustily at times that he had little pinpricks of broken blood vessels on his body. He is significantly better now, but the last time I took him somewhere to get his hair cut he was so intimidating that he left with the same hair cut I give. I figured I’d save the 18 bucks and cut it myself.

I have a long history of hair cutting. I used to cut my own hair; it’s not a big deal if you don’t care about the end result. Years ago, I was in the bathroom cutting my hair my husband came in, gasped in horror, he told me to stop because I was cutting chunks out of my hair. I told him to fix it. He made two microscopic snips then refused to cut anymore. I think I stopped cutting my own hair shortly after that.

So, I cut the boys’ hair. Lizzy asked me to cut her hair so I did. Then Bri asked me to cut hers. I didn’t really want to. I told her I didn’t know how to do layers. She asked me to a couple of times and I finally agreed. I started by holding a small section of hair and trying to cut it up at an angle. It didn’t give me very high layers. Next I divided her hair into three sections – top, middle and bottom. I cut the middle section in a higher “layer.” Bad idea! Now there was a very noticeable step in her hair. I evened her hair up to that “layer.” But I wasn’t done yet. I tried to cut it up at an angle again. Didn’t work. There was a noticeable chunk missing from part of her hair. I stopped. I think we need a professional to fix it.

My husband has never let me cut his hair, can’t image why.

This is Where Veggies Come From

I love the Steamfresh vegetable bags! I don’t have to wash and cut up fresh vegetables, or open a can, or pour frozen vegetables in a container. I just put the bag in the microwave. (Warning: mom you don’t want to read the next part!) I don’t even have to use a serving bowl. I can just cut open the bag and put a spoon in. Lizzy pealed the potatoes for dinner and until the day she can use sharp knives I know where the vegetables will come from!

Bonus: I’m environmentally conscious because I’m saving water!

Taupe-less Dancer

Marcy and I went to get pedicures today. It’s a little weird to have someone messing with your feet but I like the massage. I wouldn’t want to get the massage chair mad at me because in a fight I think it would win. My nails were painted “taupe-less dancer” and Marcy chose “Chapel of Love.” It sounds like a tawdry trip to the strip. I’d tell you more but . . . what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!

After our nails were done we went to Whole Foods in our attractive new “flip flops.” It’s really hard to walk in those. I felt that I needed to lift my foot really high so as to not bend the bottom. So, I have a new top model walk. I was going to keep the flip flops for summer but, unfortunately, I broke one getting into my van.

Battle Scars

Why does everything have to be a battle with children? I battle with Lizzy over clothes, with Will over the computer and with all of them over food. Yesterday, I asked Jake if he had a main food item in his lunch. “Yes, I have carrots.” I saw him put two carrots in a baggy. I gave him the option of taking a main food with Doritos or not taking Doritos. Naturally, he left for school with a juice box, two carrots and applesauce.

He was upset with me because he got in trouble yesterday on the bus and I was not properly sympathetic. “No mom, you don’t get it!” I do, but I also understand how the world works.