Broken Window

The window that Jacob accidentally broke will cost $334 to replace.  Do you think if I  put a big bow on it, bring him in the play room Christmas morning and say "Merry Christmas!"  He'll say Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.?  What if I use Jazz Hands?

Conversation with Jacob

“Mom, what is this?  It’s really good!”

“Cookie dough.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I made it.  Would you like to learn how to make it?”

“Yes, don’t you have to start with a brownie or cake mix?”

Clearly my cooking lessons should start post-haste.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: otherwise known as Mythology rewritten for an audience that never read anything that wasn’t required reading in high school

Jake’s birthday party was cancelled during Christmas vacation because he got sick.  Then the kids had skiing lessons on Friday nights and …..  Anyway, it was rescheduled for tonight.  I took boys to the Percy Jackson movie.  After it ended I heard a lot of complains about how the movie differed from the book.  Not that I disagree but the differences led to a heated discussion.  My favorite comment?  Oh, that would be –“I love how well Percy fought after one lesson!”

Charlotte’s Web

Bri and Jake were in a musical over the weekend. They’ve spent a lot of Saturdays over the last couple of months rehearsing. I lucked out that one of the cast members, who lives three minutes away, drove the kids most of the time. (I offered him Brianne’s babysitting services in return -- she didn’t mind because she loves his two-year old.) I felt bad that I didn’t help much with the play so a couple of weeks ago I asked one of the producers if I could bring something to the cast dinner. She looked at me with an exhausted look on her face and asked if I wanted to be in charge of it. I took a deep breath and said yes.

It didn’t involve much. I bought lasagna and rolls. I made green salad and brownies. But I have never been involved with planning dinner for a large group (sixty people) and it was emotionally stressful regardless of how much I reassured myself that it mostly involved shopping. I called my friend Cat two times from BJs to talk about salad and how much lasagna I should buy; and this after I discussed it with my husband and Marcy earlier!

The lunch was practice for the Staff Appreciation Breakfast at Will’s school which I volunteered Marcy to be in charge of. She in turn drafted me. Poor Marcy. She will rue the day she started hanging out with me!

But the musical was a success. My friend DK’s six year-old enjoyed it so much he jumped from his seat into the aisle and yelled, “YOU ROCK!”

Foreshadowing

Jake asked, “Am I a good waiter?” One second before he dropped a plate on the floor and broke it.

Answer, “No.”

We made it through this school year but I'm still waiting for the Suspension

Anyone who has had both boys and girls knows there is a difference between them. Before I had one of each I totally bought into the Nurture verses Nature view of child rearing. I bought gender neutral toys and thought I could mold my children however I chose. Unfortunately, a little something called testosterone got in the way of my plans. My son started to make his own guns out of sticks or legos. What do you do when that happens? "I'm so glad you are using creative open-ended play, but ah . . ." Anyway I've given up.

In this time of zero tolerance I'm waiting for that phone call telling me to come pick up Jake from school. There has been foreshadowing of this inevitable occurrence i.e. the time he made a drawing of a gun and cut it out at school and got a bus slip for bringing it home on the bus. (No, his teachers' didn't have a problem with it just the bus driver.) He also got in trouble on the bus for reading a book about a video game (rated E) because he and his friend used violent words. I'm trying to explain to him why he shouldn't do that kind of stuff but he doesn't get it. It didn't help that my husband thought it was hilarious.

Jake brought home a poem:

Oh, No

A wife has a knife.
So I have to run in the sun.
There's no time to give her a cap,
then take a nap.
Oh, no I guess I did!

Certain parts of the poem were crossed out, new poem:

Oh, No

A fiddle has a riddle.
So I have to run in the sun.
There's no time to give it a cap,
then take a nap.
Oh, no I guess I did!

I think we can all agree that the suspension is inevitable at some point.

Refreshingly Nonconformist -- doesn’t that sound like a commercial for a drink?

Someone told me at church that her husband enjoyed watching Jake because he was refreshingly nonconforming. I guess you could call it that. I’m glad he’s enjoyable to watch; trying to keep him under control, well, not so enjoyable! I understand why we compete with a sermon for attention. Between the pinching, recitations of Dr. Seuss, odd stories from Jake having little if anything to do with the topic at hand I understand that we could be considered mildly diverting.

I'm a cruel, cruel mother

We were driving in the van on the way to swimming. Jacob asked me if I thought he would be nicer to his kids than I am. “I hope so.” I replied.

“I think I will. Maybe when they’re ten I’ll buy them a little TV for their bedrooms.” He said.

I’m busted. He’s going to be so much nicer to his children than I am! But I was a little surprised about his comment -- I’m mean about so much more than just the lack of TVs.

In the Van

Jake: "Mom, Bri kicked me with her hind legs!"

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.

Jake

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

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.

"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!

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!

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.

Bad Boy 101

When you have a child in recovery from autism you say things to them that you do not say to your other children. Jake is frequent visitor to the principle’s office. Enough so that Lizzy has taken to saying, “I’ve never gone to the principle’s office.” He doesn’t understand things that the rest of us intuitively understand. Things like before you do something wrong, look around to make sure no one will see you do it. So, the other day while we were driving in the car, Jake complained about getting into trouble. I said, “Before you do something that you know you’ll get in trouble for; look around first to see if a teacher is looking at you.”

There was a horrified gasp from the back seat and Brianne said incredulously to me, “you’re telling him to break rules.”

“No,” I responded, “I’m telling him how to get away with it.” Actually, I feel I’m giving him survival skills. I also told him not to tattle (I know it makes me worry too), and that he can’t make someone like him so please, please just stay away from that person. That part of his brain doesn’t work right so I try to give him some helpful hints.

I’m trying to explain acting cool to him right now; and as any of you that knew me in high school know that’s the blind leading the blind. Yes, I’m the one that spent every 10^th grade bus ride home for a year pretending to be a DI cheerleader.

I’m not trying to mold a future criminal. I’m trying to mold someone who understands at least some of the unspoken rules. And anyone who has a slightly “colorful” past is welcome to explain more PG-13 rules to him or at least teach him how to be cool.