You know how you wake up at 4:00am with a raging sinus headache, then realize that your daughter is all out of school shirts, and right after that she tells you that all of her gym shorts are too small, and your son won't get out of bed even after you turn on his disco ball and tell him that he's missing the party, then you go to work where your boss has to do everything for you because your head hurts so bad that you can't even wear your glasses, then you go to Target to get some new sinus medicine and end up spending $60.00 because you had to buy your daughter some bigger gym shorts, and buy yourself some makeup remover and maybe a Twix bar, and then you go home and take the new sinus medicine only to realize that you just took NyQuil at 1:40 in the afternoon?

Yeah, me too.

Labels: Kids, Question of the Day, Ramblings

Since my son was born in May, 2002, I have had a lot of bad days.  Watching him get taken to surgery nine times, seeing catheters shoved into places that boys shouldn't have catheters shoved, watching him get stuck for IV's so many times that I've lost track and seeing him almost die twice will tend to make every day feel like a Monday.  A Monday when you realize that you're all out of coffee and you don't have any clean underwear.

There have been so many struggles that parents of a typical child can't even imagine.  And before someone comes along and tells me how fortunate I am that my son can walk and talk, I will say that I know we are lucky.  I have spent enough time around children in the hospital to know that things could be horrifically worse.

But, there have been struggles.  It took 13 months before tube-feeding wasn't an ever-looming threat and it was 18 months before he took his first step.  That was after weekly physical and occupational therapy appointments and more genetics tests than even the geneticists knew existed.

He is almost nine and he vomited while eating just yesterday.  He can't button his own pants.  We found out last week that he needs hearing aides.

As a parent, you fight through these situations.  You modify his surroundings, you buy him velcro shoes, you cut his bites into little pieces.  You, quite simply, adapt.

But, there are certain challenges where there is no fix.

My son is not only medically different from his peers, but also physically, emotionally, behaviorally and socially.  He is tiny, quirky and the most unique individual I have ever known.  Most adults "get him" and appreciate him for who he is.  Most kids, don't.

For the past six weeks, my son has been enrolled in a basketball clinic at his school.  This was more of a social exercise than an athletic one, as my almost nine year old weighs only 43 pounds.  He did, however, just move up from a 5T to a 6 Slim, so he has that going for him.  He'll be out of that negative 3rd percentile before we know it!

Over the last month, my boy learned to dribble and bounce-pass and he learned to play one heck of a man-to-man defense.  He had fun.  They ate pizza after today's scrimmage.  He tried his best.

He has no idea that I sat in the stands and cried this afternoon, because I watched every kid on the court look right through him when it came time to pass a teammate the ball.  My husband knew I was crying, as he sat stoically, but I told him that it was making me sad to watch and he replied, "I know.  It's awful."  If he was a woman, he would have totally needed a tissue too.

I can't fault the boys.  They're young and they wanted to win.  They were smart enough to know that my son couldn't make a basket.  Boys don't have the compassion that girls do.  No offense, fellas, but I'm going to have to generalize this time.  If my son was on the other side of the ball as a typical child, then he would have probably done the same thing.

But, he wasn't on the other side of the ball and he is not a typical child.  I watched him holding his hands in the air, waiting for a pass, for over an hour.  He got a chance to dribble twice, when one of the parent volunteers TOLD the boys to pass it to him.  He loved those few, fleeting seconds.  I could see the pride in his face.

As a parent, you want your child to shine, not be ignored.  You want the world to see what you see; that inside the quirky kid is a funny, smart, gentle soul.  Okay, okay...he's ornery too, but everyone does see that.

It is so hard to have a child like mine, but it is also very special.  It is a joy to see him succeed and to go places I never thought possible.  To me, he is a gigantic force in the universe.

But, to the boys on the basketball court, he is but a speck.

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Prematurity, Ramblings, Socializing, Special Needs, Things I Would Change

My mom and I were recently discussing the names of her grandchildren.  I have three sisters, and between the four of us we have 12 kids.  Eight of them are boys. 

Their names are Stephen, Paul, John, Peter, Matthew, Daniel, David and Adam.

Do you think anyone can tell that we're Catholic?

Labels: Kids, Ramblings

I am not a small woman.

I know this.  I own this.  I have never been petite.  I will never be petite.

It isn't easy to be big.  It, especially, isn't easy to be big when you need to put on a bathing suit and actually allow people to see your thunderous thighs.

I mean, really.  It's one thing that everyone can see my gigantic, looks-like-I-play-in-the-NBA, hands, but allowing it to all hang out is something else entirely.

Last week, my family and I rented a vacation house for a night to celebrate my daughter's 12th birthday and the birthday of one of our friends.  While looking for the rental unit, one of the requirements was that the house have a hot tub.  Unfortunately we found one.

So, there I was.  Not only was it snowy and freezing outside, but the 104 degree hot tub overlooked beautiful scenery and I had been suffering from a stiff neck for days.  It seemed...appealing.  While the adults were all scattered among different parts of the house, I decided to bite the bullet, put on my bathing suit and climb into the hot tub with my daughter and our friends' two kids.

If anyone won't pass judgment on you it's two 12 year old girls, because they are so concerned about themselves they don't even see your thighs.  Plus, there was a nine year old to distract them...or irritate them...same difference.

I walked outside, removed the towel from my waist, climbed the steps and, under the gaze of three children, I dipped myself into the hot tub.

There.  That wasn't so bad, now was it?  Sure, I'm big...but, it's not like the water went pouring over the edge.  I leaned my head back and let the jets pound against my stiff neck.  I can't believe I was so worried about what everyone thinks of me.

Which is when my daughter looked across the water and said, "Um...Mom?  I think you need a tissue."

Labels: Kids, Ramblings, Shameless Statements

Since I started working over 40 hours a week, my husband has taken over some of the household duties.  Yesterday, he did the grocery shopping.  It kind of made my heart melt.

His greatest assistance has come with the takeover of getting the eight year old to bed.  Most of my work is done in the evening, so while I am clicking away on my computer my husband deals with the stall-tactics, the decision of which book and stuffed animal to take to bed and the newest thing to throw a wrench into the routine...SpongeBob mouthwash.

My husband has managed, after a long day at work, to turn this time into something fun.  There are races to the top of the steps, shoulder rides and the Mom's-chest-pain-inducing-toss-the-tiny-kid-onto-the-bed-from-across-the-room-adventure.

So with all of these shenanigans, it was no surprise the other night to hear my son declare, "Daddy!  Let's play the opposite game."  My husband was quick to oblige.

I laughed as I listened to them go back and forth, with my husband telling our son to, "Hold your pee", "Put your clothes on" and "Don't brush your teeth".

My son answered all yes-questions with a firm, "No" and everything that should have been a denial was met with a jolly, "Yes!"

As usual, my husband had turned bedtime into something giggle inducing.

After a few minutes, I heard my husband say, "Okay, buddy.  Don't say goodnight to your mother."

Which is when the game came to an abrupt halt.

Because as I climbed the stairs to meet my son halfway, he greeted me with a smile and outstretched arms for a big nighttime hug and he said, "Good morning, Mom.  I hate you so much."


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Labels: Family Life, Kids, My Better Half, Shameless Statements

Although my son will be nine years old in the spring, he still needs our help when he's taking a shower.  After he has cleaned his body, one of us goes in to aide him in washing his hair.  Because he is on his second set of ear tubes and doesn't hear well, we do our best to keep dirty water and shampoo from entering his ear canals.

The other night, I walked into the bathroom and asked, "Are you ready for me to wash your hair?"

Which is when I realized that he's eight years old going on adulthood, because when I pulled back the shower curtain I saw him standing with his hand outstretched in my direction as he said, "Hey, Mom!  Pull my finger."

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

Last night, I looked into the bathroom to see my little boy brushing his teeth.  He was wearing his faded, outer-space pajamas with the rockets all over them.  On his feet were hand-me-down, rain boots that are, at least, two sizes too big, but they look like the boy's boots from The Polar Express so the extra toe space isn't really what matters.

I walked up behind him, leaned over and, without a word, gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

He looked over his shoulder at me and with his mouth sloshing with toothpaste said, "I love you too, Mom."

Labels: Family Life, Kids

Labels: Creature Features, Kids

While returning home from a family dinner the other night, my 11 year old daughter suddenly spoke up from the back seat.

She asked, "Hey Dad, what's the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?"

My husband peered out at the night sky and thought aloud, "Hmmm...".

Then my son offered his unsolicited opinion when he said, "I know!  It was probably when he married mom."

Labels: Family Life, Kids, My Better Half, Shameless Statements

Recently, someone told me that she was glad that women have to wear bras.

When I questioned her logic, and sanity, she explained that she is so happy about wearing a bra because the best feeling in the world is taking it off every night.

That friend of mine?  She's one smart cookie.

Because my son has sensory issues and because he likes to snuggle and rub my flabby arms, even if I'm in my pajamas, I wait to take off my bra until he has gone to bed.  The last thing I need is for him to accidentally run his hand a little too far up my sleeve.  Then we'd need a whole new kind of therapist.  Just sayin'.

The other night, as he was preparing to go to bed, I snuck into my bedroom and removed my bra.  As luck would have it...wait...as my luck would have it, when I came in and sat down on the stool in his tiny bathroom, the back of his hand brushed against my B-O-O-B.

He looked up at me and asked, "What's that?"

I honestly replied, "Well, that's one of my private parts.  That's my boob."

Then he reached his hand up and touched my chest and said, "Oh!  I thought boobs were supposed to be up here."

Labels: Getting Old, Kids, Shameless Statements

One of my son's many issues is Sensory Processing Disorder.  It affects him in various ways, not the least of which is that certain smells and textures can make him physically ill.

About a month ago he missed a day of school, not because he had a cold, but because we couldn't get him dressed.  He wouldn't even put on pajamas so that I could take him to my mom's house.  When we tried, he ran to the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and threw up.

On a typical day, it isn't unusual for him to visit the nurses office because his feet itch.  I can't get him to wear his coat zipped up.  He is one of two kids in his private school who don't have to tuck in their shirts.  Seat belts bother him.  He didn't learn to ride a bike until he was seven because we couldn't get him to wear a bike helmet.

It is heartbreaking and frustrating at the same time.

Not long ago, I was contacted by a representative from Smart Knit Kids asking if I would like to try a pair of their Seamless Sensitivity Socks for my son.  I was told that these socks are great for kids with sensory issues or autism because they are form-fitting and won't bunch up.  Also, the design means there are no seams to bother tender feet.

I have to admit that I was skeptical.  I mean, sure my kid takes his shoes and socks off as soon as he walks in the door every afternoon and goes barefoot any time he is able.  Sure, he won't wear footies or thick socks.  Sure, I had heard that a typical person puts on their socks, then forgets about them, but a person with Sensory Processing Disorder puts on their socks and knows they are there all day long.  They never stop feeling the sensation.  Still...it seemed over the top to me.

Nevertheless, I told the representative we would try them.

I rarely, if ever, post reviews of products on this page.  I would venture to say that 99.9% of you did not come here to read about my son's socks, but please do me a favor, if you know someone who has a child with sensory issues, tell them about these socks.

They really are seamless, they really don't fall down and if I didn't know they were made with polyester and Lycra, I would think they had stitched them out of magic fabric.



My son checks before bed to make sure he has a pair of "lucky socks" to wear to school the next day.  Instead of fighting me, he actually begs to wear them.  You have no idea how much easier my mornings have become.  Did you see what I did there?  I just used "easier" and "mornings" in the same sentence.  If you don't believe me, look at all of these testimonials from other parents.

I am not the person who created them, nor am I a representative of the stores which sell them.  I am not responsible for marketing them in any way.  I am simply the mother of a child who loves these socks.  And, that?  Makes a big difference in our lives.

Labels: Kids, Special Needs

The principal at the school where I work, and where my children attend, was walking through the cafeteria the other day when I saw her stop to talk to my son.  A few minutes later, I took a big gulp as she approached the kitchen where I was working. 

Not that I was terribly worried, as his blatant honesty has prepared me for anything.

Let's review, shall we?

He once told a doctor that she had a, "really, really, really big nose" and he told an elderly woman that she was dead.  He saw a wrinkled, old lady at the store and said that she needed to use lotion and has even complimented large people...by telling them that he likes their "chinny chin chins."

And, let's not forget when he named his testicles, Racer and Jennifer, then proceeded to tell complete strangers about his "babies".

My son keeps things interesting.  Although he has a whole lot of quirks, there is one part of his behavior that is constant; you never know what he is going to say.

I was thinking of this when the principal walked up to me and stated, "Diane, I have to tell you what your son just said."

I began to form an apology in my head, but then she continued, "He wanted to wish me a happy afternoon and tell me that he's been praying for my sister.  He says the most appropriate things!"

To which I replied, "Give him a minute."

Labels: Kids, Lunch Lady Land, Shameless Statements, Special Needs

On Saturday night, our family visited a haunted house and forest.  I hate scary things.  Do you see where this is going?

My kids had never seen me in a situation like this, although I have told them about the time that I sat in the car at a haunted house while my friends went in.  When we pulled into the parking lot, I burst into tears because I was overwhelmed with fright.  I was 25 years old.

I have always disliked scary stuff of any kind, but real life incidents involving a peeping Tom and an ex-boyfriend who stalked me made things worse.  Now I have two dogs.  And, two guns.

But, on Saturday I was in the middle of the dark woods and my guns were at home.  Plus, this was a Boy Scout function and I'm pretty sure it's extra illegal to shoot a Scout.

When people were emerging from piles of leaves or simply walking up quietly behind me so that when I looked over my shoulder to see the empty trail, but instead I saw a monster face practically sitting on my shoulder, my choices were to a) scream b) pee my pants c) begin yelling "small children" in order to get the goons to back off or d) all of the above.

Or, it's possible I did all of those things and used my 11 year old daughter as a human shield, wherein I picked her up and held her out in front of me as if offering my child as a sacrifice to a zombie.

Labels: Family Life, Kids

About a week ago, I had a nightmare. 

I dreamed that there was a knock at our front door.  Keep in mind, a knock at the door is a daily occurance around here.  We live in close proximity to quite a few schools and there are a lot of politically active people in our neighborhood.  Someone is always fundraising or trying to get you to swing your vote.

In this nightmare, I ignored the knock.  So the dream was, virtually, reality because that is exactly what I do when I'm awake, except that I usually see the person coming and shut the blinds first.

In my dream, I ignored the knock, only to hear three, consecutive knocks a few moments later.  Against my better judgement, I opened the door only to be pushed back into my foyer by an intruder with a gun.

Then I woke up.

This nightmare will stay with me for awhile.  I know that.  I clearly remember two nightmares I had when I was eight years old, a series of them that I had when my ex-boyfriend was harassing me and one a few years ago about me, my husband, our two kids and the SUV in which we were riding going over the side of a cliff.  Whoever said that dreams are rainbows and unicorns doesn't know a thing about my brain.

Last night, in my real life, someone rang the doorbell and I ignored it.  A few moments later, there were three, consecutive rings.  It was just like what I had experienced in my dream.

My 11 year old daughter asked, "Are you going to answer the door?"

I replied, "No."

She questioned me further.  "Why?  Are you thinking about that dream you had?"

"No", I lied.

She was on to me.  She glared at me and said, "You know, Mom, you can't let your nightmares control your life."

I may not be as smart as she is, but I'll be damned if I didn't open that door.

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Ramblings

1.  If your husband spends his Sunday morning running a marathon and you spend the same Sunday morning chasing him around the city, with two kids and you hold an eight year old on your shoulders for an hour, you will both be sore.

2.  If you're driving to and from mile markers for hours, you will have to stop at Tim Horton's for breakfast and Wendy's for lunch.  You know, out of necessity.  Your husband, on the other hand, will run 26.2 miles on two bananas and some peanut butter crackers.

3.  When you spend 45 minutes creating a great sign that says things like, "Keep it up!" and "Be strong!", don't be surprised if your son sees your finished project and decides that your sign is the perfect paper on which to stamp a pink butterfly.

4.  Don't be shocked when you walk nine blocks to your viewing spot and as soon as you arrive, your son tells you he has to poop.

5.  Which is why you should always store a training potty and kitty litter bags in the back of your SUV.

6.  Then you will count your blessings that your eight year old is still small enough to use it.

7.  Much in the same way that when you have been playing in the ocean, you can later close your eyes and still feel the waves...when you watch a marathon full of people go by, you will later close your eyes and see runners.

8.  When your husband approaches the finish line and your daughter sneaks through the fence to run the last stretch with him, you will feel so much pride that your heart might burst.

9.  Then you'll watch your husband complete his race to the sound of applause and cheers of the crowd.

10.  And you will listen, then cringe, as the race announcer mispronounces his name.

Labels: Kids, My Better Half, Random Realizations

The other night we were visiting with a friend during dinner at his house, when my eight year old son jumped into the conversation and called our 39 year old friend by his first name.  It was something along the lines of, "Sure, Chad."

Although we allow the kids to call our oldest friends by their first name, we have a rule that most people go by Mr. or Mrs. followed by their last name.  It keeps things easy and consistent.

My husband quickly corrected our boy and said, "You need to address adults as Mr. or Mrs., buddy.  It shows respect."

And, as our son turned to leave the room he rolled his eyes at his dad, let out a big sigh and said, "Whatever, Mike."

Labels: Family Life, Kids, My Better Half, Shameless Statements

So, you know how you go to work in the school cafeteria in your $100 shoes that you bought because your plantar fasciitis was really acting up, and then suddenly the hip you've had problems with since you were 19 years old decides to make you start limping like you're elderly, and then you go home to find your one year old dog got your bottle of Ambien off of the counter and REMOVED THE CHILDPROOF LID, and you think that you can't call the vet because she will insist that you bring her in and they'll pump her stomach and it will cost you $800 and the dog will still die, so you look it up online and see that you should induce vomiting, so you give the dog some Hydrogen Peroxide and then she vomits the entire world in your backyard while you're walking around holding your ears and singing, "La-la, I can't hear you making that hacking sound and re-eating your own vomit", and then you go pick up your kids at school and your son has a fever and he cries so hard that he throws up too.

Yeah, me too.

Labels: Creature Features, Kids, Question of the Day, Ramblings

I'm going to allow myself to be conceited, because this is my blog and I'm my own editor and I can have an ego if I want to. Neener-neener.

You know how everyone sits down at a job interview and says, "I'm a people person"? Well, I really am a people person. I'm an extrovert, a talker, a social butterfly, if you will. I love people.

And, I hate ignorance.

I have friends of all different races and colors and beliefs. I love them, not despite our differences, but sometimes because of them. I am doing my best to teach my children the same thing.

This likely wasn't evident when my son called two Muslim woman "pirates" and it surely wasn't apparent yesterday at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants.

Because it had to seem that we are breeding nothing but intolerance when my son heard a woman speaking Chinese to her child, looked at her and said, "Uh, we're not in China."

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Shameless Statements, Special Needs

Later today, I will be having some minor, outpatient surgery on my girly parts. Just because it's minor, doesn't mean I'm not nervous.

I have only had surgery three times in my life. Two of the three were c-sections, for which I stayed awake and the third was for my wisdom teeth. That is the only time I have ever been put under sedation. I'm not going to lie. I liked it.

But, I was only 19 years old then and delving into blackness was kind of cool. Now, I'm more than twice that age...and I can tell you for certain that today's surgery won't hurt nearly as much as typing that did.

Given that my eight year old son has had a lot more experience on the operating table, I asked him for some advice. We were counting his I.V. scars last night when I said, "I'll be getting an I.V. tomorrow and I'm not sure, but I might have to use a mask to go to sleep too."

At this point, I thought he might tell me what to expect. At the very least, I imagined he would tell me not to worry.

Instead he said, "I sure hope the hospital has big masks, because you have a big head."

Labels: Getting Old, Kids, Shameless Statements

One way I can be sure that summer is coming to its beautiful end is the addition of socks to the laundry.

My son has run around in Crocs since school let out. Actually, they're the same pair of Crocs he wore last summer. He's a slow grower. He wore a pair of 3T shorts the other day. He's eight.

My daughter wore her black, hand-me-down sandals all summer. She most definitely did not wear the cute, brown-leather flip-flops, for which we went back and forth to the store because the size wasn't quite right. You know, the ones that cost actual dollars.

I get used to laundry sans socks when the kids are out of school; other than softball and baseball socks, which are knee-high and black or knee-high and red. Meaning...the pair is easy to make.

My kids wear uniforms to school and their ankles have to be covered. So now, I will be carrying around a lot of socks until next June. I tote them up and down the stairs because I can't find the mate and keep waiting for it to turn up. This is my laundry basket and the socks I carry around week to week.

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Mom Logic, Ramblings