Halloween Thoughts

So, here I am,sitting out front, waiting for trick or treaters to show up for candy. I am by myself, and the streetlight is broken, so I am sitting here with only the light of the laptop to illuminate me. Since I am probably more scary than just about anything else our here, I'm not that worried.

My husband loves the dressing up for Halloween. Zane's first Halloween was spent in the NICU, and his second Halloween he was just over a year, so we just took pictures of him dressed as Yoda and stayed in. This year Zane actually got into the spirit and put on his costume without much of the crying and whining that happened last year. They tripped on merrily up the street, a knight in shining armor and a Nazgul, and I got candy duty. I don't mind because I like to people watch.

The first year we moved into our house, I did not anticipate the sheer number of children that would show up. After all, I had lived in an apartment for a long time. So we ran out of candy in about five minutes that first Halloween and had to turn off the porchlight in shame. I vowed that would never happen again, so sometimes we have a lot of candy left over.





We have all kinds of people trick or treating this evening, mostly young kids, of course. I don't know quite how I feel about it, but there are carloads of kids who have their parents drop them off on our street. I don't even know if they live in our subdivision. So I have to have a system for making sure that there is enough candy to last. Number one rule: If you are not in a costume, you get nothing. If you can't be bothered to dress up in the spirit of the day, no candy for you. I always have special candy for the little ones, even though I know that those babies will never see any of that candy.

The highlight{sarcasm} of the evening was the very pregnant teenager who had painted a pumpkin on her belly. I guess that she was craving sweets. Every adult in her group was smoking and as she was walking away I saw her take a drag of her boyfriend's cigarette. Geez.

My neighbors did their haunted house thing this year, judging by the screaming and crying. And the running away.

Larry left his Nazgul costume on one of the chairs out here, and one of the kids asked what it was. I told them it was all that was left of a kid who didn't say "thank you". The entire group ran away screaming.

Blog Hop!!!!

And the really cool thing is that I figured out how to add my blog to the list!!! I swear I get more techie every day!

What is a blog hop?

A blog hop is a linky list that is SHARED ON MULTIPLE BLOGS.
When several blogs put the same linky list code on their blog, the
exact same list appears on each blog.

Blog visitors can submit their entries on any blog that contains the list.
The entries will appear on each blog where the list resides.

Blog readers see the same list on each blog, and can "HOP" from blog
to blog seeing the same list of links to follow: BLOG HOP!


EDIT: Dang, I did not account for a kitten running across my keyboard. Apparently Zena added a few more characters to my link, so you can't access it. And of course, I have no idea how to fix it. :(

Why Being Aware of Pop Culture is a Good Thing

I remember watching The Caine Mutiny with Humphrey Bogart. Part of the film has Bogart walking around rolling steel bearings in his hand while accusing people of taking his strawberries. Five years later Robin Williams did a spoof of Bogart and his strawberries, and I think I was the only one of my friends who 'got it'. I felt a little superior for the next thirty minutes or so. And that's a wonderful feeling, indeed!

Truly, the best thing about knowing your pop culture is the in-jokes that you hear all the time that only people who've seen that movie/heard that song/read that book will get. It's like a secret club; for a second those in the "know" are bonded together as a group so we can lord it over the people who are clueless.

Pop culture changes very quickly these days, so you have to pay attention. One minute Billy Ray and his Achy-Breaky Heart are on top, the next it's his daughter who is drawing the crowds. It's important to pay attention to what is popular and what is not. Why? Because the flavor of the day, whatever it may be, is the perfect icebreaker for conversations.

Think about it a minute, once you stop giggling. If you are like me and are nervous around strangers, then you know perfectly the horror of a mind gone blank. One second you're about to drop the wittiest bon mot ever uttered, the next you're mentally sitting on a sand dune in the Sahara. Nothing but static...unless you know current pop events. If you've heard Katy Perry's newest song, or have watched the Vampire Diaries, or have read the Hunger Games, then you are set. You can talk about those safe topics until you think of something meaningful and profound...which is generally never. But that's okay, because you've got the conversation rolling. As long as you don't bring up religion or politics, everyone will have a great time!

Things that Stick in Your Brain

At some point in my life I saw the movie Summer School. It starred Mark Harmon(that is a darn good looking man, isn't he?) as a teacher roped into teaching summer school when all he really wanted to do was go to the beach. His romantic interest in the film was Kirstie Alley, sans the 750lbs she ate between then and now, as the lucky person teaching the Honors kids. Harmon's character had the "losers"--the dyslexic kid, a pregnant kid, the goof-offs, etc. All of these kids failed whatever Florida's version of a state assessment, and they had to be remediated.

The movie wasn't really all that great, but it was entertaining in parts. The part that I remembered best is that Mark Harmon called the administrator who was trying to get him fired a "bite in the ass". I liked that description.

These are people who grouse at you about something like an unfinished report, leave, then come back and gripe some more about the same report, then continue the gripe-graze for the rest of the day, so that you never actually get time to finish what you were working on until that person leaves work for the day, or you take your laptop and go hide in the bathroom to work in peace. Sometimes they will call you to bite you--I've thought about answering the phone and holding it toward my butt to expedite the process. There are days when I've had to deal with so many 'bites' that I should be twenty pounds lighter.

Do you know someone who is a "bite in the ass"?

Vote Early, Vote Often!

My husband and I voted this afternoon. We went to a place in Universal City and stood in a short line with a bunch of older people. All of the volunteers were senior citizens too. This made me a little sad at first--it would have been nice to see some younger people particiaping in the election process. Then I realized that most of the younger generation, including myself, have jobs, and therefore are unavailable to spend all day sitting around waiting for people like me to come and vote. Der.

As I was growing up, I never saw my parents vote. When I finally asked about it, my dad said that it didn't really matter to them who was in office, so why bother? My mom never said a word about it, but my mom doesn't talk much unless my dad is being a doofus. But when I started college, my BFF Cathy dragged me to register, then dragged me to vote. Her parents were very interested in politics and discussed the issues and candidates. So I sort of picked up the habit of paying attention to politics. And I vote, because I feel this gives me permission to gripe about whoever is in office that I didn't vote for. Griping is, for me, an Olympic sport.

No Kiss For Mama

I am not a touchy-feely kind of person. I'm not a hugger and I'm not generally a cuddler, either. I'm a "you sit on your side of the couch, I'll sit on my side" kind of a person. It's nothing personal; I think I just have some tactile defensiveness going on. My mother is worse than me--she practically jumps out of her skin whenever someone hugs her. I do feel very 'fingernails on tin roof' about being touched, and while I may not show it, it does raise my stress level. When my sensory overloads, I become defensive. Then I don't want to be touched or talked to or even looked at because I feel like I will explode.

But I am trying to be more huggy for my son. I didn't get to hold him much while he was in the NICU, but as soon as it was safe, my boy was in my arms. Because I'm not a touchy-feely type, I don't want that for my child. I don't want him to feel that I don't love him just because I'm not as huggy as other mothers. I want him to feel comfortable appropriately touching others people, either by hugging, handshakes, etc. So when I play with Zane we do a lot of hands-on activities, such as wrestling, tag, and hide. Zane likes to hang upside down, and I hold his legs up. It's good for him and good for me to get over my own hang-up.

Every night before he goes to bed, I ask Zane for a kiss. Just a quick smooch on the cheek or forehead, traditionally a way that mothers everywhere offer a blessing to keep away the bad dreams. Lately, Zane has told me "no kiss". This upsets me a bit, since I feel it's my sacred duty to keep the bad dreams away. So I try at least three times while he is awake to get him to let me kiss him goodnight.

"No kiss, Mama." My heart cracks a little, but I let my little man go off to dreamland sans kiss. But I do worry about bad dreams keeping my little boy from optimal sleep. So, after Zane is asleep, I sneak in and plant a kiss on his forehead and whisper "sweet dreams". If I could fit in that toddler bed, I would curl myself around him like a dragon, to protect and defend his dreams. Even when he is awake and far away from me.

It's Not Quite Halloween, But...

After a long day at work, we arrived home with Zane, and I get to fix dinner. Yay me. I had decided on trying a chicken parm recipe that I found, so I got started making that. The recipe called for dipping the chicken in egg and then into bread crumbs. Okay, I thought that I might be able to do that! There were three eggs in a container in the fridge. When I grabbed the container, one of the eggs started to slide out, and I tried to catch it. And I did catch the egg. Unfortunately, in my haste to catch the one egg, the other two slid out of the container. Which was kind of odd, since my thighs will silently attest that I don’t usually drop food. Damn, I thought to myself.

After getting the chicken into the oven, I was working on cleaning up the kitchen, getting some pasta on the stove, garlic bread in the oven, and Zane something to eat. Multi-tasking. Larry was in the living room, drooling over his new Aliens box set or something equally geek-ish. I was standing next to the island in the kitchen and I noticed movement on the floor. I looked down. Right next to my foot was a LARGE spider. EEEEEEEK!!

I am not afraid of spiders. I don’t like bugs/spiders/geckos in the house, but usually when I find them I catch them in a cup and toss them outside. I am not afraid of spiders, but I also didn’t expect to see one the size of a quarter right next to my bare foot in my own kitchen. I also didn’t expect to see dozens of baby spiders all over the floor next to the big spider. EEEEEEK!!!! I jumped and did what any normal, red-blooded woman would do in these situations. I hollered for my husband.

“Larry, come in here now!”

“What?” Larry called from the living room.

“It’s a big spider!” I called back.

“Itsy-bitsy spider?” Zane said from his spot at the table. He loves to hear about spiders, but they are all “itsy-bitsy” to him. Even Spiderman is “Itsy-bitsy Spiderman” right now.

“Uh, yes, Zane. It’s an itsy-bitsy spider,” I said, trying to appear calm for him, even though my heart was racing. It was a BIG spider, and while I am not afraid of spiders I was imagining that it had been about to climb onto my big toe. That gave me a roaring case of the heebie-jeebies.

“A big spider, eh?” From the tone of his voice, Larry was rolling his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. Then HE saw the spider, and while he didn’t actually jump, I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to. Then I pointed out the baby spiders, and he was incredulous and had to see for himself.

“That’s kind of creepy,” he said. I had to agree. We both just stood there looking at the spiders, completely paralyzed with the OMG moment. Zane was still at the table where he had been eating, staring at his parents in confusion and starting to look worried.

Zena, our new kitten, jumped in to save the day. She was just ecstatic to have a new moving play toy to whack around, and she smacked that spider to the other side of the kitchen. In short order, the big spider was a deceased spider. In the meantime, Larry had recovered from his trance, and grabbed the vacuum cleaner. He vacuumed up all the little spiders.

“Should I be concerned that when I emptied the case into the trash, I couldn’t see any spiders?” he asked a couple of minutes later. I made him put the vacuum on the patio. Just in case. The thought that dozens of baby spiders might climb out of the vacuum was too frightful to contemplate for long. Crisis averted, we reassured Zane that all was well.

“It’s all right, Zane, your Mom was just scared of an itsy-bitsy spider,” Larry told him. So I smacked him with a frying pan. At least I thought about it. Because I am not afraid of spiders.

Lay Off Lance Armstrong

Lance Armstrong is in trouble. Apparently the Feds are after him for alleged steroid use. As if surviving cancer wasn't horrific enough!

Our government gave bazillions of dollars to banks who, at the very least, engaged in questionable practices that cost people their homes, their retirement funds, and/or their jobs. The resulting recession is still affecting us today, and no special prosecutor was ever selected to investigate that I've ever heard. Yet our government plans on spending lots and lots of taxpayer money on investigating whether or not the most drug-tested athlete in any sport took steroids.

If indeed Lance did take steroids? Who has lost their livelihood? Who has lost their home because of Lance? Who has had their retirement funds sucked dry by Lance Armstrong? I have no idea.

What I do know is that when my husband was diagnosed with cancer back in 2000, he was really pissed off. He was so angry that I'm pretty sure that the original doctor who diagnosed him with the cancer was kind of scared, but my husband wasn't angry at that guy. Larry was ready to beat the crap out of something, anything. But there wasn't anything that he could beat on that was going to help him deal with having cancer, so he felt pretty helpless.

Then he found Lance's book, It's Not About the Bike. He started reading it right before he started chemo, and, maybe it's was cliche', but that book really helped him let go of that anger and start focusing on getting better. And the fact of the matter is that Lance Armstrong has helped not only raise money for cancer research and treatment, he has helped inspire millions of cancer patients to fight their way to survival.

So I don't care whether Lance has done steroids. He's a hero to me for what he's done after the Tour de France, and nothing is going to change that. I just hope that other people feel that way, too.

Getting to Know Me and You! And Not in a Stalker-ish Way!

I thought this might be a different way to blog hop? I don't know.

Get to know me! And then answer these questions on your blog and leave me your link so I can read your answers!!!!

Apple Juice or Orange Juice? Neither. I'll take coffee or tea any day.

Are you a morning or night person? I am a night owl. Nobody better expect me to be perky at 6am.

Which do you prefer, sweet or salty foods? As my weight will tell you...yes.

Ninjas or pirates? Pirates dress better.

What was your favorite childhood television program? Mash, Blossom, Battlestar Galactica, Electric Company,

Are you a collector of anything? Books.

If you could be any animal, what would you be? Tough one. It's a tie between a cat or an elephant. I like the gracefulness of a cat, but it would be really cool to occasionally rip a tree out of the ground by it's roots and whack somebody with it.

What is usually your first thought when you wake up? What the hell time is it?

What’s your favorite color? Purple, the color of majesty.

What’s your favorite animal? cats

Ever been addicted to a video/computer game? Which one(s)? Sort of got addicted to Lord of The Rings Online for awhile. And Plants vs. Zombies was fun while I played through it.

You’re given 1 million dollars, what do you spend it on? Pay off debts, start building a new house. Maybe buy some really nice shoes and have all my clothes tailored. And definitely would have to hire a maid, a gardener, and a cabana boy.

Have any bad habits? Too many to count, but the main one is procrastination, I guess.

List 3 of your best personality traits: Inquisitive, Family-oriented, Loyal. Pretty much a yellow Lab puppy, aren't I?

List 3 of your worst personality traits: Intolerant of stupidity in any form, extreme introvert, stubborn

Have any celebrity crushes? Jon Stewart. If he showed up on my doorstep, I'd have to just go with him.

List 1 thing you wish you could change about yourself: I'd have a lot of fat sucked out of me.

Any tattoos or piercings? ears pierced only. I don't want to have anything on my face that can be grabbed and pulled on. I haven't found any tattoo that I would want to have on me when I'm 90.

Are you mostly a clean or messy person? I prefer to call it "lived in".

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? Ireland or Scotland or England. Just so I could explore castles.

Name 1 thing you miss about being a kid: Cereal tasted much better before I knew it had a kajillion tons of sugar in it.

What’s your favorite song of the moment? Hmmmm...I Don't Wanna Stop by Ozzy? Maybe? I like a lot of different music, but most of it is not new.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a Saturday night? My very favorite thing would be to go out to dinner and then dancing, but I don't think that would make my husband happy, so I would settle for dinner and a comedy show.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon? Curl up with a good book.

Have any hidden talents? If I told you, then they wouldn't be hidden, would they?

You’re about to walk the green mile, what do you have as your last meal?
Prime rib with rosemary encrusted new potatoes and green beans and a bottle of a good cabernet sauvignon. Make that TWO bottles.

What would be your dream job? Not sure, but it would be a job with Zero paperwork and it would come with a secretary.

Which would you rather have, 100 million dollars or true love? I'm going to be honest and say that 100 million dollars could buy a whole lotta love, true or not.

If you HAD to change your name, what would you change it to? Constance Elizabeth Montgomery. So I could make a living writing romance novels. Or bromance novels.

Dipthong

I was working on a report the other day and I was describing errors that a student made on a reading test, when I suddenly decided that saying the word "dipthong" aloud sounded vaguely naughty. Before I knew it, I was having a little gigglefest at my desk. It was a nice little break, even if I did feel a little like either Beavis or Butthead, which ever one of those did all the giggling.

A REAL Stress Test

Zane had a strep test last week when he went to the doctor. Since we didn't think that he had strep, we sort of forgot about it. But we kept getting calls from the lab to call them back for the results. Twice a day, they were calling.

"This is the LAB, we have your son's test results, please call," they said. At first I didn't think too much about it, because I knew that he didn't have strep. But since they KEPT calling, I started to get paranoid about it. What if my son is like me and never has any symptoms of strep? I barely ever even got a fever! What if he's infected his entire class with it because we were bad parents and sent him back to school? I decided that I just couldn't live with the guilt and the possible litigation.

So finally I called. Or rather, I tried to call. "For our Village Drive office, press 1, for our Stone Oak office, press 3, for our..." I pressed a number. "...to talk to Dr. Blah's assistant, press 1...Dr. Yada-Yada’s assistant, Dr. OMG's assistant, press 2. Dr. WTF's assistant, press 3..."

There's at least 10 doctors at this practice and they ALL have assistants, plus a nurse practitioner, plus the billing department, plus the referral department, plus the scheduling department...I started to feel like someone was reading me a Dr. Suess book.

Five minutes later I realize that the machine never said anything about a lab department, so I pressed 0, which you are supposed to do to get to the operator...and the machine said "Goodbye" and cut me off. ACK!!! I called back again, thinking that I had dozed off somewhere and missed the extension for the lab. I had to do it a third time just because I got just past the middle of the message, somewhere near the sixth doctor's assistant, and couldn't recall the beginning of the message and I thought I may have selected the wrong office branch. By now I was a bit peeved; I hate talking on the phone in the first place, but I especially hate talking to a machine.

I FINALLY just hit a random button and then a person FINALLY answered and asked if they could help me. I asked for the lab. They put me on hold and I had to listen to a smarmy woman's voice doing some sort of commercial instead of listening to muzak. I started to nod off again, which is reason #478 why I don't try to use my phone while driving.

At last a person who worked in the lab answered the phone. I explained who I was and what I wanted to know. You want to know what was so goshdarn important that they called us 7 times in the past week? They wanted me to know that the test was negative!!! Really? I sort of lost it a little bit, I am afraid.

I wasn't rude(okay, I was certainly a bit snarky), but I asked the person why they couldn't just tell us that on the machine, since they know it's our phone number, and they know that we know it's our phone number. I told her the truth, that all those phone messages made me think that my child had Ebola, and that wasn't really necessary for anybody's health. The lab person was nice enough to explain that HIPAA was responsible for the phone calls and that they weren't allowed to tell us our test results over the phone. I had taken a deep breath at this point and calmed down a bit, so I could tell her that I understood(which I didn't) and thank you.

See, THAT experience should be the one they use to test your stress for your heart. That treadmill is a cakewalk compared to being a parent.

Social Skills Tip Of the Day

Policemen do not have a sense of humor when you have broken the law, say, by speeding. They especially will not respond positively to sarcasm. It is never a good idea to annoy or otherwise irritate a person who has a gun and other ingenious devices that can hurt you, or worse, make you pee your pants in public. Just smile and do what the police officer tells you, slowly, with no extraneous movements.

Why Daddy Doesn't Do Shopping

see more Historic LOL

Birthday Boy

Isn't this the most adorable birthday card ever????? My friend Kelly and her beautiful daughter gave it to Zane with his birthday present. I am not a super-scrapbooker sort, but I will be saving this one. Maybe in a nice decorative frame...


Today is my wonderful, rambunctious son's birthday. He is three, but if you ask him how old he is, he will tell you he's five. I told him that faking his age will not get him a driver's license any earlier.

Anyway, considering his start, I would say that my son is a healthy, happy kid. I give thanks for that every single day. Happy Birthday!

Social Skills Tip of the Day!

If you are lucky enough to get married and your wife wants to try out a new lipstick or eye shadow that does not suit her, do not look at her and scream "WTF?" or "OMG!" The correct answer in these situations is always, "You look perfect, honey." Whether it is true or not.

Book Review: The Treasure of God's Word

The full title is The Treasure of God's Word: Celebrating 400 Years of the King James Bible. The word Treasure is accurate. I selected this book from Booksneeze.com, and I am glad that I did. Visually, it is a gorgeous book, with a burgundy cover and gold lettering. It just feels cool to the touch and good in your hands. To someone like me who just loves to hold books, it was wonderful.

There is no denying that the King James Bible was an extremely influential piece of history. It had a huge impact on the English language, as well, granting some uniformity among the chaos that was the language of England at the time. This book is divided into sections discussing King James' desire for a uniform translation of the bible as well as what the translators were attempting, and spends some time on the revisions that came after. In between are 'chapters' from the King James Bible, titled "God's Love", "God's Comfort", etc., where verses are gathered together. The language is simple, lyrical, and very obviously meant to be read aloud to the English people.

Even a nonbeliever can still appreciate the musical nature of the passages in the King James Bible, and this book captures some of that essence. Reading some of the passages, I could almost picture myself as a member of a congregation in 1611, which sounds kind of silly when I say it out loud. But it's a measure of the impact that the King James Bible had on society that I am able to visualize that experience and it's a small measure of the beauty of this book.

Social Skills Tip of the Day!

When a rather rotund woman walks by you wearing a pumpkin-orange jumper, try not to say the first thought that pops into your head. Keep that thought inside your head where it belongs. And that includes the giggling!

(Yes, I know that I am a terrible role model.)

I Hate Shopping at Walmart

...I can't be any clearer about it. Why? Let me describe my experiences today. First I went to HEB, which is a grocery store chain that is local, or at least only in Texas. The place was crowded, but I did not have the slightest bit of trouble finding anything on my list, the sales people were friendly, and most importantly, nobody walked slowly in front of me with their cart and got in my way. I filled up the cart and walked to the cash registers. There were maybe twenty cash registers at the front of the store and EVERY single one of those registers had an actual live person ringing up groceries and another person bagging those groceries. I was out of there in record time, which was great. I left the store happy... until I got home and realized that I forgot paper plates.

Now, before all you "green" people start hollering at me for using paper plates, shaddup. I am the one who ends up doing the dishes pretty much every day. I LOATHE doing the dishes, but if I didn't they would sit in the sink until they grew legs, which oddly doesn't take as long as one might think. Paper plates are what keep me sane in the kitchen, and are therefore a tolerable evil until I win the lottery and can afford a maid and a cabana boy.

After I announced to my husband that I had forgotten the paper plates, he informed me of all the other things that he had forgotten to tell me to get the first time I went to the store. I offered to take Zane with me this time, which should be an indicator that I wasn't thinking clearly. But I only had a couple of things to grab, so I fully expected to be back in about twenty minutes. Another sign that I wasn't thinking clearly.

The parking lot wasn't too full, and I found a place that was close by. Zane didn't want to walk, so I carried him inside and put him into a cart. We began to move toward the toys, because Zane has to see the "choo-choos". Immediately, the slowest people in the store began to form a line ahead of us. I tried to go around the first one, only to be blocked in by another. These were otherwise healthy people, who for some reason were moving in a slow shuffling gait that is popular among zombies. I started to get irritated, but took a minor detour through the personal hygiene section...which was blocked by the four thousand people who were choosing their deodorants by reading the ingredients on every package. I clenched my jaw and did a U back out into the main drag. The shufflers had disappeared! Hooray!!!

We checked out the trains in the toy section and were able to get back to the grocery section. I got the five things on my list, plus pullups. Then I had to go ALLLLL the way over the garden section for lighter fluid, and I encountered the shuffling crowd again. I lost them in the small appliances section and made it to the lighter fluid.

Zane at this point decided that he needed to sleep. And he didn't want to sleep in the cart, he wanted me to hold him. I tried to bargain with him. I even offered him cash. No dice. I picked him up and tried to steer the cart, which suddenly had a broken wheel. I am shuffling, my cart is going the opposite of where I point it, and I finally make it to the registers.

Every Walmart store has a ton of registers. There must be at least twenty of them lined up all nice and shiny. Yep. They are all nice and shiny because there are only about two in use on any given day. I am not kidding--there were TWO registers open, each four deep with people in line. *sigh*

I pick a line that seems to be moving reasonably fast. The people in front of me, two women, are chatting while they put their stuff on the conveyor belt. They are moving incredibly slow, picking one thing up at a time, looking at it, stopping to talk, looking at the item again...

Zane is getting heavier by the second. He's also doing that thing where he leans back and jars himself semi-awake, which does not make him easier to hold. My left arm is on fire with exertion. I try leaning him on the bar of the cart, but this does not do a damn thing. Finally, the women in front of me finish putting all of the articles in their cart onto the conveyor...and someone in the Walmart management decides to switch out cashiers.

I seriously considering whether it would be worth it to punch the manager in the face, but ultimarely decide that it would be impossible to get a decent punch going while holding a sleeping child. Zane woke up as I was trying to steer the cart to the car. By the time I got out of Walmart and back into the car, almost an hour had passed, I was extremely irritated, and Zane was awake, rested and refreshed and ready to go.

Special Needs Blog Hop

So I'm trying this out to see if I can do it, techie-wise, even though my blog isn't really about special needs. Well, except for me. But I work with special needs kids, and I think that each and every one of them is wonderful. So here goes!

Drive-thru Communication

When someone tells you to pull up to the bush and they will have 'it' right out to you, well...you really can't blame a person for at least a brief misinterpretation.

Speaking Clearly is Hard

Zane is into trains. "Choo-choos" is what he calls them, and he wants to learn all about them. We have several books that describe the different cars that one might see on a train--hopper cars, coal cars, piggyback flat cars, etc. One of the cars is called a 'gondola car'. Zane is trying very hard to say that.

Unfortunately, his attempts to say "gondola car" come out sounding like "G-- D---- Car!"

I swear that is what he is trying to say.

Important Safety Tip and a Side Rant

If I can see your eyes clearly from a half a mile away before I drive past you, you might want to lay off the frost eye shadow.

On a side note, frost eye shadow doesn't look good on anybody who perspires.Yeah, I went there.

And what the hell does AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock" have to do with cooking blueberry pancakes?


EDIT: Wow. I guess that I have no business blogging while I'm cranky. I haven’t been feeling well, and now Zane isn’t feeling well, and it’s been a particularly obnoxious day. I shouldn’t be taking it out on other people. That lady probably couldn't help it that she perspired and her frost eye shadow became hi-beams to oncoming traffic. She could have taken one good look in her rear view mirror and blinded herself, and I would feel sad about that. Really. I should be grateful that I was wearing my sunglasses so I didn't run off the road.

But I still don't understand what "For Those About to Rock" has to do with blueberry pancakes. What is up with that, Target? Is Angus Young a fan of blueberries? Did Brian Johnson write a jingle about pancakes at some point in his career? Are the blueberry pancakes that woman in the commercial is about to make going to be hard as a rock? Can someone please explain the connection to me? Should I be bringing blueberry pancakes to the next AC/DC concert I attend and fling them onstage instead of certain garments?
I’ve probably said too much…

I Heard That Somewhere...

So, awhile back I read this book. I loved it, so much so that I told my husband that he should read it, which I never do.

"It's hilarious, I said. You should read it."

"Mm-hmm." He didn't even look up from his computer. I rolled my eyes and went on with my life.

Cut to the present. While he was looking for reading material for the bathtub, Larry found this book again. He stayed in the bath that night for over an hour because he wss enjoying the book so much. He came downstairs, all damp and wrinkly, laughing, telling me what a great book he was reading.

Really.

Sponge Bob Squarepants

Somehow, somewhere, my son found Sponge Bob Squarepants. At first he called him "Boo-Bob", and forget him saying anything about the shape of his pants. But as his speech has improved he's finally to the point where he says "Ponge-Bob Sarepants", and we know what he's talking about. (We are always happy when we figure out what the hell he is saying. It makes us feel less stupid than usual.) We even bought Zane some pajamas with that happy yellow face on them.

Zane ONLY likes the opening song, however. Initially he stood transfixed, mouth hanging open, while the sailor picture sang of Spongbob's absorbency. Eventually he started dancing along to the song, and now he knows the general tune and some of the words. So he makes my husband sing it with him as we are putting on his jammies.

"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO....lives in a pineapple under the sea?" And yes, my son with apparently the most powerful lungs in the universe, holds that opening note for what seems like hours. My husband tries to stay with that note, brave man that he is.

I told him that a blue face on a man just isn't that attractive.

Horoscopes

I opened the paper the other day, and my horoscope said "If you don't have to go to work today, stay home." That's pretty ominous, I think. That's pretty much telling you that you are going to have a crappy day, before you even turn on the coffee pot!

Yes, I am an intelligent person. Or at least that's what the IQ tests tell me. And I know that horoscopes don't 'predict' your future. And that horoscopes usually are obscure and vague enough that you can make whatever happens to you fit the 'prediction'. I know all this. And yet...

That's pretty darn clear language. Pretty specific: stay home, because you're going to have to go to a staff meeting which will suck so bad that it will open a hole in the Space-Time continuum and last FOUR HUNDRED YEARS!!!!!

Okay, it wasn't that long. But it was close. It did bring to mind a certain book I read once...

Morning Rituals

I got into the shower this morning, put my head under the spray of water and washed my hair. Then I got the conditioner and was about to put that on my hair when I suddenly thought “Wait...did I wash my hair?”

I stood there for about thirty seconds trying to remember what essentially had happened a couple of minutes ago. I actually had a debate with myself, and then I got mad at myself for debating with myself. In fact, I had to stop before I got so mad that I stopped talking to myself altogether. So I said a bad word(without fear of my son overhearing), and washed my hair again.

Seriously, what the hell? Who forgets that they JUST washed their hair? Or more to the point, what person who is not intoxicated forgets that they just washed their hair?

Ideas that Fly

I have great ideas all the time, if I do say so myself. I’ll be going about my day and ideas just pop into my head, ideas about inventions, products, books or movies, etc. Sometimes I’ll even say to myself, “Sayyyyy-that’s a great idea!” but then I’ll completely screw it all up by following that with “I’ll have to remember that!”

Of course I never do. Generally, in less than the time it takes me to remark on what a great idea I’m having, whatever I’ve thought is gone, flying back to Great Idea Land. It’s very frustrating. I used to be known for having a great memory. I never had to write anything down. I could tell you what someone said and what they were wearing on a day five years ago. People were amazed at this. I was amazed at this, but would pretend that I was not. But over the years and several rounds of anesthesia later, my memory sucks. If I don’t write it down, it’s gone. Not only is it gone, it wiped the hard drive clean with a magnet before it left.

I have a theory about Great Ideas, though. I believe in the idea of a Collective Unconscious, and I think that that is where all Great Ideas reside. So when the Great Idea that showed up in my head wanders off in search of something shiny, it ends up in the Collective Unconscious. There it sits decoratively until someone else thinks it, and maybe does something with it(like write it down or something equally ridiculous), and then that Great Idea maybe gets to become more than just an idea. Yep, that’s my great idea about Great Ideas. It’s a fabulous theory, but since I’m not making any royalties off of it, I’d just as soon forget it.

Moobs need Support

So I'm driving down the road and I see a guy jogging without his shirt. This would not be noteworthy except that this guy had what we call 'moobs' and they were bouncing with every step. Seriously, I almost swerved off the road because I was concerned that he might hit himself in the face with one of those puppies.

Women who jog and want to keep their breasts from ending up around their waitline wear some sort of jog bra. Well, men need to wear some sort of support of their pectorals as women do, at least in public.

If not for yourself, do it for me, a random strange person. Thank you.

Social Skills Tip of the Day

When you are talking to someone and suddenly notice that they have a large hairy mole on their neck or some other oddity in the facial area, do NOT stare at it, or comment on it, or crack jokes about it, no matter how badly you want to do this. The other person will not be happy about your attention to their flaws, even if you are a plastic surgeon.

Weird...

My son just brought me this book to read to him. Zane was very insistent. I told him that I would read it to him if he could tell me all the letters in the word 'genius' as I pointed to them.

He did. So I did.

Book Review: Wild At Heart

The full title of this book is Wild at Heart: Discovering the Secret of a Man's Soul by John Eldredge. The author's premise is that men in the Christian church are being told that in order to be good Christians they have to be nice guys, when this isn't truly how God wants men to be. Eldredge believes that every man needs a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue. However, this is not how society expects men to behave, and as a consequence of denying their true desires, Christian men have generally lost their way. They've also apparently decided that church is 'boring', because everybody knows that you only go to church on Sundays for the entertainment. And the wine, for those affiliated with religions that use it in their ceremonies.


I chose this book from Booksneeze.com because I have a son and I wanted to see if there might be something in this book that would help me raise him. At first, what Eldredge says makes sense. Boys do need to do battle, at least in their imaginations, and they do need the stimulation found in most adventures. This idea is consistent with my own observations; I am starting to see my two-year old son engaging in imaginary play which has involved much jumping and lots of running. The author's discussion about adult men revisiting those adventures they had as boys to recapture their masculinity appears to be a sound idea. Too many adults believe that play is no longer supposed to be part of their lives, particularly after children arrive, and this just isn't so.

Eldredge's ideas regarding a 'beauty' to rescue, however, are a bit harder to swallow; the implication that a women needs to be rescued and can't rescue herself is just plain ridiculous in this day and age. The author reveals some ambivalence toward women. On the one hand, he spends some time stating that God created women to save men. On the other, he asserts that the secret desire of every woman's soul is to be "captivating". In other words, "just sit there and look pretty, honey!" This made me a bit angry, because I have never in my entire life felt that my purpose in life was to be decoration.

The second aspect of the book that gave me pause was the author's statement that all of our problems were because of the Enemy, aka, the devil. Any time you feel angry, that's the devil making you feel that way. Any time you're depressed, that's the devil. The direct implication is that you, as an individual, bear no actual responsibility for any choice you might make, including whether to be happy or not. It's all the responsibility of the devil. I don't want to get into a lengthy theological discussion about it, but Man does bear responsibility for his own behavior, his own feelings, and the choices he makes. There's a reason that our legal system, which is based on Judeo-Christian ethics, does not have a "not guilty because the devil made me do it" statute on the books. If it did, the prisons would be empty.

This was a difficult book for me to finish. The author starts out strong with his hypothesis, but he veered off the path several times and got into some areas, such as the 'Father-Wound', that I didn't really feel that he was qualified to discuss. In fact, several times I found myself checking the back of the book to see whether Eldredge had a degree in psychotherapy or counseling or even theology. I finally found a reference to a counseling degree, but I also found a reference to Eldredge's employment by Focus on the Family. I thought that perhaps I had some sort of bias, so I asked my husband to read the book. He wasn't able to finish the book at all. But there are apparently many, many men who have been helped spiritually by Eldredge and his book, field manual,and other products, and I can't discount that fact.

Technologically Challenged

I feel bad that I have no idea how to add really cool techie stuff to my blog. I would like to be able to do this, because I see really cool things during the day and I would love to take pictures and post them and then maybe have some animation or pole dancing.

I guess I'll have to read some directions somewhere at some point.

Friday at the McDonald's Playland

When Zane has a reasonably good day at daycare(meaning that he didn't hit anyone), we will stop at "HAPPY MEAL PLACE". We don't know why Zane calls McDonald's the "HAPPY MEAL PLACE", but we roll with it. When we get to the local Mickey D's, the line at the drive thru is humongous. Crap.

"Well, I guess we could just go in," I said. Larry looked at me as if I was a pod person. I looked right back at him and repeated myself.

"Are you sure?" Larry asks. We are always hesitant to take Zane places because of the unpredictability of his behavior, mostly just because we are just too tired to deal with it. But really, the only way that a child learns how to behave in public is by being in public. So we maneuvered the car through the maze of the line through the drive-thru and parked the car.

I told Larry to take Zane to the play area while I got the food. Zane didn't want to go to the play area, and he had a small fit in the line while we waited, which included the usual throwing of the self on the ground. I think I did a good job of ignoring him while he did that. Larry was finally able to get Zane to the play area after I handed him his HAPPY MEAL, but I think it cost him some dollar amount to be named later. I got the food(this is the slowest McDonald's on the planet, I am pretty sure), and took it into the play area.

Zane and Larry were sitting at two different tables, because apparently Zane was feeling independent. Zane was eating, I sat down. There were a lot of other kids running around and playing on the playscape or whatever it is called. I noticed that most of the children were not actually eating anything, but that's probably true of most 'child-friendly' places. I bit into my hamburger, when a kid of about eight ran by, hollering at the top of his lungs.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPER!!!!!!!"

I spit out my bit of hamburger and guffawed. Larry snickered. Anyone but Jimmy Cagney uttering those words and you just have to at least chuckle quietly. I think that is a federal law or something, at least until the Supreme Court makes a decision.

Suddenly Zane decided he wanted to play, but he wasn't finished eating. He wanted to take his food and his drink with him to play. I referred him to the rules, which included a statement indicating that food was not allowed in the play area. Zane disagreed vehemently with this, and again threw himself down on the ground after Larry took the drink and HAPPY MEAL box away. I repeated the rule.

"Want Ketchup," Zane said, in a classic attempt at distraction. He jumped up and raced for the door separating the play area from the actual dining area. He was wedged in the door by the time Larry finally caught up with him. When Larry freed him, Zane zigzagged through the legs of the many people waiting in line and ran up to the counter. He banged his hand twice on the counter.

"Want ketchup," he said. Everyone waiting in line laughed, luckily. Larry helped Zane get his ketchup and brought him back to the table. Thus sustained by the appearance of ketchup, Zane finished his meal and ran to play. Larry was with him at first. I noticed that Zane kept wanting to climb up the slide, and Larry was determined that Zane not do this. He was afraid that Zane would get hurt by the bigger children. Zane was not interested in listening to his daddy, and a small meltdown ensued.

I got Larry to tag me in, and I figured that natural consequences would be the best way to get Zane to understand that he would be happier going down the slide instead of up the slide. So I let Zane go up the slide, knowing that there were about ten kids, all bigger than him, about to come rolling down the slide. I thought that all it would take would be one time of getting bowled over by another kid, and Zane would not be so interested.

Zane climbed up. I waited. No Zane. No anybody, actually. WTH??? Finally, Zane came down, followed by every single one of the bigger kids. WTH??? Those bigger kids, some of them as old at ten, waited for my son, a two-year-old, to go down the slide. I was amazed, and not sorry that my original expectation was incorrect. Kids surprise you sometimes.

But it was time to go. We had to bribe Zane with cookies to get him out of McDonald's, but it was worth it to get him out to the car. For those who would say, "Sayyyy--weren't you the only 'behavior specialist' your district had for years? Didn't you create almost all of the behavior forms currently in use in your district today? And you're saying that you bribed your own child? Isn't that in direct violation of every book on behavior ever written?"

To those people, I would challenge them to 'babysit' Zane for a couple of hours. Then we will talk.