Thank you for being a friend…
Thank you… Read More Thank you for being a friend…
Category: kids
Harmony at Halloween: All buckets are welcome at our door!
All colors of bucket welcome here! Honor all super heros this holiday.… Read More Harmony at Halloween: All buckets are welcome at our door!
It goes by fast because it should
Honor the hard times and know that it can change because it will. It will always be different tomorrow.… Read More It goes by fast because it should
Pesticles and other hazards.
Beware the pesticles and men-o’-claws.… Read More Pesticles and other hazards.
One square away from despair.
Never forget the baby wipes!… Read More One square away from despair.
Angry birds and tales of home repairs
One of the benefits of autism is intense focus that can have comical results or at least inspire great art.… Read More Angry birds and tales of home repairs
Waiting room Weirdo
Sniff…sniff…snortle. It’s early summer and everyone seems to be sniffling from the deluge of pollen and the woman who chose to sit next to me in the empty waiting room was no different. Except now I’m suffering too, from her. I take a deep breath and try to distract myself with my reading. My mind… Read More Waiting room Weirdo
Tell me a story.
How did this wondrous creature come into my life?… Read More Tell me a story.
Bye-bye fishies. Hello Five!
“Alright, everyone ready for fishsticks!” “NOOOOO!!!” Owen jumped from his chair and ran screaming from the room, hustling down the hall like a deranged train, as if I set his cars on fire. Leonora and I looked at each other in shared confusion and equal concern. “But Owen loves fish…” “It’s ok, honey. I’ll go… Read More Bye-bye fishies. Hello Five!
Pre-soil and repeat.
Never would I guess that I would have to explain why we don’t plug up the toilet.… Read More Pre-soil and repeat.
The “F” word.
Sometimes the “f” word is foul.… Read More The “F” word.
Once a mummy, always a mummy.
“You see coffee is what keeps mama from feeling like I need a coffin and a coffin is where I’ll finally get to sleep.”… Read More Once a mummy, always a mummy.
Others like me.
At first, I wrote about my pregnancy in a blog because I wanted a journal for my kids that they could access at any time down the road. Then I continued it not for just them but as a life line for myself. As a way to process my turmoil, to feel less alone, with… Read More Others like me.
Can I have your hair?
Last hair donation. Might as well help others and make something of my yeti-ness.… Read More Can I have your hair?
I do ME-self!
I need to rethink my life’s social story.… Read More I do ME-self!
I, Owen!
Most parents dread kids’ birthday parties if they know any better. (If you don’t, please explain to me your trick for navigating children’s social politics as well as their parent’s.) … Read More I, Owen!
Threats, bluffs, and tears
You can’t take off naked.… Read More Threats, bluffs, and tears
Waiting for snow.
The octaves correlate with the humidity and the temperature is only exceeded by my blood pressure.… Read More Waiting for snow.
Pneumostome
Ever wish you had an extra air hole to breathe through?… Read More Pneumostome
I have a rash on my head.
There are so many topics they don’t prepare you for in those birthing and parenting books, so many things I wish someone had been honest with me about before I had Nora, and to that point I say to my friend two months away from giving birth to her first child, “Greer, this one is… Read More I have a rash on my head.
Did you “eeear” me?
It’s hard to trust that his progress won’t regress at some point because the, truth is, it might since it has before. Yet, even if it does, I now know he can do the work…… Read More Did you “eeear” me?
Open-minded, just not agreeing with you.
Most of you, since you’re reading this, understand I have a twisted sense of humor and I don’t shock easily. I’ve been told it’s biting, sarcastic, dry, droll, and once (by an exe) caustic. What I hear in my head though is “you’re funny”. I maintain this blog for my own selfish enjoyment, to document… Read More Open-minded, just not agreeing with you.
Resuscitation of Hope
“Special needs” means just that, a need, not a limitation.… Read More Resuscitation of Hope
I miss me too.
It would be dishonest of me to say I don’t miss my old life. I do, but not most of it, just my friends. Ok, and maybe my waistline, being able to talk on the phone, sleeping in, using the bathroom by myself but, still, mostly my friends. New Year’s Eve reminded me of that… Read More I miss me too.
Politely Defiant
“No, ‘tanks. Not yet…No, thank YOU.” I hear this statement frequently from Owen. It epitomizes his character and willful spirit. Even as he is defying you he is doing so politely. He is kind yet abrupt and I love him all the more for it and find it to be true of most people I… Read More Politely Defiant
“Dear John” letter to Macy’s
This isn’t the first draft or the first time I’ve contacted them. Thanks to social media, I messaged them as well. (My letter is below.) Nora is still asking about them so, Macy’s, in her words, “Why did Macy’s take Christmas away?” So Macy’s, what do you have to say for yourself? To all the… Read More “Dear John” letter to Macy’s
Awakening
He posed for a photo radiating pride for himself that can only be eclipsed by our own for him. Owen posing and saying “cheese”, asking for his photo to be taken, a simple action with so much meaning after these first three years of his life. Most might underestimate how unusual this is or the… Read More Awakening
Passable Passiveness.
Indigenous Peoples’ Day, what do those words conjure up for you? For myself, it’s a sensitive subject of my questionable origin. It’s a strange sad question I’m asked, without fail, any time I mention being Native American. “What percentage are you?” If you were to ask anyone else how white or black they were you… Read More Passable Passiveness.
You’re right.
You may be right. (And, no, I’m not quoting Billy Joel.) Here’s your moment to feel justified. You’re right. There, you heard it, satisfied? It seems that’s all anyone wants to hear anymore. Watching the news doesn’t sound any different than listening to my kids fight over toys. I find myself saying to the tv… Read More You’re right.
Pillow Power
We’re pillow people. Correction, the kids and I are pillow people. My husband is not. He’s one of those folks that could sleep on a bare floor with a block under his head. I, on the other hand, am not such a person. As tough as I might be in other areas of my life… Read More Pillow Power
Finger crotch.
I have to make the peace sign with my right hand for another week. Of all the moronic injuries this one embarrasses me the most. Avocado hand. Note to self, don’t wield a knife when your toddler is climbing the baby gate to the kitchen, shaking it, and screaming at you as you cut into… Read More Finger crotch.
Our summer vacation
We were walking through our neighborhood, holding hands, my mind was wandering. I lost track of the conversation as I felt mesmerized by seed fluff floating by and underfoot. It brought me back to my walk with Nora through the snow in this very spot only six months before. I looked up at our favorite… Read More Our summer vacation
Waiting room Weirdo
Sniff…sniff…snortle. It’s early summer and everyone seems to be sniffling from the deluge of pollen and the woman who chose to sit next to me in the empty waiting room was no different. Except now I’m suffering too, from her. I take a deep breath and try to distract myself with my reading. My mind… Read More Waiting room Weirdo
Cheese
I try to say something the kids think is strangely funny or naughty to get them to smile for pictures. When I was a kid, I panicked when someone said “smile” because it normally meant I was suppose to hide being scared or that I was injured. It’s that feeling of being anxious and having… Read More Cheese
Real names for real stuff.
The over share. That moment when your child ups the ante, tilts your world, and calls you out. When all the self-esteem boosting, the positive parenting, the talks about “using your words” and “speaking up” comes around to bite you in the ass. Or, in this case, my uterus. It was an average Wednesday in… Read More Real names for real stuff.
Did it break down?
My daughter peaks over my shoulder, sees the photo of the Tri-Met Max train below the headlines, “Is that our train? Are you reading about trains?…” I tuck my phone away and surprise hug her close as I wipe away tears. She giggles and wiggles lose, sees my tears and runs for a tissue for me, “Are… Read More Did it break down?
Acute exhaustion.
Bilateral acute otitis media (a.k.a screaming nonverbal child, a.k.a. maternal tinnitus, a.k.a. sudden depression), better known as double ear infection and raging fevers. “Poor baby, he must be in so much pain.” He is and so am I. Physically from being headbutted, scratched, and trying to hold forty pounds of a thrashing body so he… Read More Acute exhaustion.
It’s a mother of a day.
The day started with being awake for two hours and longing for coffee as I awaited the “surprise” breakfast in bed. I listened to the chaos in the other room and wondered how long till someone cried. All the while feeling guilty for not being more appreciative on the day I’ve been told that everyone… Read More It’s a mother of a day.
I have a picture of your poop face.
I have a picture of your poop face. This thought runs through my head at least once a week if not a day. It’s my ace in the hole, pun intended, for when they really try my patience. I fantasize about showing it to their first date, the first time they’re awful to me in… Read More I have a picture of your poop face.
Grasping at water.
This is the closest I’ll ever be to you. I remember laying on my side, rubbing my planetary belly, looking out the window into the night sky, speaking to Nora in my womb. It was the closest she would ever be to me physically yet, even then, separate and unfathomable. Her own heart pattering away,… Read More Grasping at water.
Fork you and your words.
Owen was two. He was speaking seventeen words. He told his dad he loved him. I barely could get him to say “mama”. Home with him every hour of the day and he tells his father, “I love you.” I was Barbara’s jealous resentment. He rarely kissed. If he did it was without using his… Read More Fork you and your words.
Keenly aware you annoy me.
Kids interpret instructions too literally at times. Autistic kids take it to new levels. For instance, I use the refrain, “Use your words not your hands!” I did so over breakfast as the kids wrestled over a toy. In frustration over the disagreement, unable to voice his thoughts at that moment, Owen threw his arms… Read More Keenly aware you annoy me.
Have fun with yourself!
“Have fun at school today.” “OK, mama, have fun with yourself.” “OK, honey – WHAT?!” That was two years ago that I had that exchange with Nora. From early on her literal interpretations of common phrases and sayings has had me in fits, elicited serious misgivings, and inspired epiphanies about the English language. It’s hard… Read More Have fun with yourself!
Love advice from kids.
If only we made friends as easily as when we were kids and if only love was as simple as sharing your snacks. Adulting is just too hard sometimes and there’s moments where I want to stay with Nora when I drop her off at school so I can join in. Nora and I were… Read More Love advice from kids.
The doll will show him.
Nora said, “I want a baby doll that looks like Owen so he knows I love him and I can hold him.” I hugged her and bit back tears, “You are so kind…he knows you love him. Someday he’ll say it to you too but, trust me, he knows that you love him. He loves… Read More The doll will show him.
When a duck says “cock”.
The doorbell rings for a package and Owen checks to make sure it’s the postal carrier he likes. It is, I breathe a sigh of relief that Owen won’t be stripping in anger, and I greet Dave as I open the door. He says hello to Owen, “Hey, buddy, good job keeping your clothes on.” … Read More When a duck says “cock”.
Whirling dervish of futility
I’m a whirling dervish of futility lately. My calendar looks like a pixelated Rorschach blot. If I went color blind from some sudden aphasia from the stroke (I’m fated to have if I keep up this pace) our whole world would fall apart. So as I organized, color coded appointments once again to match the… Read More Whirling dervish of futility
Mama, the baby is stuck again!
“What NOW, Owen?” I’m not proud of that lament but I’m driven to it by noon on a good day. Considering I’ve been up since 3 a.m., that makes it happy hour in some time zones for those without children. So imagine my surprise when I discovered my baby stuck in the cat door. It’s… Read More Mama, the baby is stuck again!
Am I as bad at this as I sound?
The question came to me again. Am I as bad at this as I sound? I read through a comment on a past post that was meant to be flattering but thanked me for sucking at this thing called “parenting”. My original intention for this blog, much like parenting, was to create something for… Read More Am I as bad at this as I sound?
Papa playtime requires protective gear
My husband, Jamie, is meticulous and cautious by nature and trade. He spends his days as an engineer and prides himself on being thorough, accurate, and heading off trouble. Then there’s his play time with Owen. Owen has no sense of fear. He’ll jump from anything and run head long without sensing any imminent danger… Read More Papa playtime requires protective gear
Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
There’s certain truths of parenting, the Murphy’s Law of raising humans, that when you absolutely need things to go your way they probably won’t. Forgot the extra diaper? The baby is going to crap and play with it while he’s in the shopping cart. Your kid forgot to take their lunch to school? Today is… Read More Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
Keep fighting.
We survived G.W., we suffered through his father, and Reagan before him. We’ll survive this jackass. (See the following lovely examples of our past presidential mistakes: http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/10135836) Yet the turbulent emotions of grieving these events are still so raw. So here it goes… Any human who voted for that openly known bigoted rapist is to… Read More Keep fighting.
I’m not brave.
Today has been good. I wanted to wait to write this on such a day. A day where I actively feel gratitude and blessed for my children. A day where Owen going down for a nap is a happy smile of contentment and not the exhausted deflation of relief I feel most days after listening… Read More I’m not brave.
HAVE A GOOD DAY!
Owen and I were holding hands as we walked back to the car along the sidewalk from dropping off Nora for school. Drop-off is always hard for him and today was the first time, after a month, that he didn’t cry. He loves his sister so much but he shows it in ways that are… Read More HAVE A GOOD DAY!
The boy who chases cars.
Owen is obsessed with cars. He runs out to grab them up the moment his eyes open. I hear his feet slapping on the hardwood floor and then him running to our bed once he has them. I’m awoken by him launching himself headfirst into my neck, rubbing his forehead on me in his version… Read More The boy who chases cars.
My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
I’m done hating the mirror. My dumpy forty-something ass is as done with you as I am. Stare at it all you want. It doesn’t talk back but I will. I’m a mom, a writer, an educated woman who cusses, and that woman is all out of &^%#$ to care about your opinion on how… Read More My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
Be my baby.
One of the smartest decisions I have ever made was becoming a mother but it wasn’t as easy as checking off a list. We struggled to have a successful pregnancy to be able to have Nora. Jamie and I are Rh incompatible, my hormones are imbalanced from PCOS, and every subsequent miscarriage increased the scar… Read More Be my baby.
My mom genes gave me camel toe.
Jeans on me nowadays are like what a miniature waist cincher would be on a hot dog. Pointless and kind of disturbing. My lady parts swell up enough from chafing to convince a stranger they’re lost in the Sahara with the amount of camel toe I’m sporting. This pelvis is too long, too broken, and… Read More My mom genes gave me camel toe.
My boobs: a love-hate relationship
I’m so top heavy I can’t lay on my back without suffocating or creating armrests in my armpits. My cleavage seems to start at my chin. (This is my super flattering selfie to illustrate.) Running feels like parts of my body are being ripped off by unseen forces. When I have to chase after my… Read More My boobs: a love-hate relationship
The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
I don’t want to be here today. I don’t want to be anywhere. It’s too hard to be a mom today. It’s too hard to do this in my internal solitary confinement any longer. I wish I wasn’t myself. I wish I was that mom. The mom society expects me to be. A mom who… Read More The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
It’s hard to be truly angry when you’re dancing.
Nora and Owen fight over the Cinderella carriage nonstop. He thinks it’s part of his parade lineup of vehicles and Nora begs to differ. It’s been broken and repaired with superglue twice now. Amazingly, (she says while throwing salt and pulling out an eyelash to wish upon) they rarely hit each other. Items are thrown,… Read More It’s hard to be truly angry when you’re dancing.
“Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
I was taking a walk with the kids. Which means collecting rocks, hugging trees, avoiding cigarette butts, dodging patches of phlegm (side note STOP SPITTING, it’s disgusting!), and my anxiety ratchets up with every step. Nora is running to each tree in the parkway, skipping between them, as she turns to me breathlessly, “I just… Read More “Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
Kelso Kids 
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