Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition - Bootcamp #review

It's that time of year again, when I absolutely hate the way I look. I take a vow to loathe anyone that weighs less than 600 pounds, looks good in a swimsuit, loses their baby weight within 45 minutes of giving birth, or who has a functional metabolism.

I start stalking the produce section as I grocery shop, fantasizing in my head that the Special K diet really *will* work, because I won't do it with sides of French toast and bacon this time. I tell myself that I don't need m&ms or any other form of chocolate. I make a halfhearted promise to myself that I will stop baking no matter how therapeutic it is late at night after a super dee duper stressful day. I vow to stop buying brown sugar and chocolate chips. I take out the yoga DVD and pretend that I love the soft, never irritated voice of the yoga witch who never sweats, grunts, or uses profanity as she smilingly twists herself into positions that normal people need the jaws of life and 16 fire fighters to get out of.

I remind myself how much better I felt last year when I lost 20 pounds in 6 weeks. I remind myself that it got easier every time I exercised, and how exhilarating it was when my pants started falling off my body.

And none of this lying to myself is working. The truth of the matter is, I hate cheerful workout instructors. They piss me off. Do *not* grin and say, "Only 60,000 crunches left to go! You can do it! You're stronger than you think!" No. I can't do it. I'm having delusions about Ben and Jerry right now, thank you very much. So you can take your happy crunches and...uh.. ahem. Sorry.

I despise people who don't sweat and curse and burst into sobs at the mention of aerobics. I need cranky, bitter exercise workouts. I need "have you LOST YOUR MIND?!" from the paid "beginner class" featured in the sessions. I need shrieks of "what fresh hell is THIS?!", so I know that I'm not the only one about to die. And you know, it wouldn't hurt to have some big, burly guy with a six pack shriek, "Medic! Man down!" as he writhes on the floor in excruciating pain during beginning warm up stretches. That would be groovy. I would smile, maybe.

So, imagine my delight when I got the opportunity to review the Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition - Bootcamp DVD from Lionsgate Home Entertainment. These would be real people, with real sweat and real edited out profanity! With real cellulite, and real cottage cheese thighs.  People who actually know what a caramel roll tastes like, and people who have eaten more than carrot sticks within the last 12 years. This could be awesome! Oh! Maybe someone will punch the instructor in the side of the head and run off with a chicken leg!! I was freaking hyper about this, if you want to know the truth. That is, until I realized that yes, these people would actually be... exercising. Well, crap. Foiled again.

It took two weeks, but I actually did unwrap the protective cellophane cover from the DVD. I broke a sweat and called it good. And then, I started having guilt about the review that I was supposed to write. But then, my pc died a horrible, stupid death, and I had to mourn, you know. SAVED by a "death in the family"!! But then the iPad arrived, and I was doomed. Doomed to exercise hell.

I braced myself by eating a package of oreos, and prepared to become intimately acquainted with Chris Powell, transformation specialist extraordinaire. Here's what I discovered:

• four fat blasting workouts is just another way of saying "You're still going to feel like you're about to die. Here's four choices for cause of death"
• "Melt inches" is instructor speak for "You will drown in your own sweat. Strap on the snorkel."
• "Calorie crushing", "Shred", and "sculpt" are all polite ways to tell you that you will never walk upright again.

All joking aside, here's the deal: this DVD offers a multitude of workout options that will work for anyone, regardless of their love/hate relationship with exercise.With the level options, warm up, and cool down, there are no more excuses for me not to exercise. Starting with Level 1 and working my way up as things get more manageable for me is a great way to get into exercising regularly again. I don't feel overwhelmed and incapable, because I'm sticking to a workout I can manage. And, if I ever get the urge to smash the TV so I won't have to hear Chris' voice, well.. there's a music only option available on the DVD for when I am familiar enough with the routines to do it on my own. The TV will live on.

Past contestants on the Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition show are featured as well, so it's not as intimidating for me.  This actually *is* the answer to my exercise needs. Think it's your answer too? You can find Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition - Bootcamp on DVD for the MSRP of  $14.98. Try it out, people. If *I*, the cynical, oreo loving mother of  7 with all the baby weight to prove it, can do it, y'all can. We'll totally cheer each other on. We'll become like those annoying skinny people on facebook with smiles that look like a mouth full of chicklets, and spray paint six packs on our bellies to embarrass our children. It'll be epic!

**Disclaimer** I received a free copy of Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition - Bootcamp for purposes of this review. Views and opinions expressed in this review are mine alone and were not compensated.

The Day The Tears Showed Up

The Monster House sends love and prayers to Boston

Today, I have a post up on Special Happens, (I'll wait on ya, so you can know what I'm referencing, if you want to click over and read before you continue here.) because I specifically did not want my monsters to see it here. I don't let them watch the coverage in Boston on CNN, and I won't let them read the post I wrote for SH. Yet, as I listen to the monsterlettes play in the other room with #1, I feel the need to write a little more. I'm still... just too raw.

I'm still wondering. And I'm still reflecting. And today...today is the day the tears showed up. As I listen to the monsterlettes, I cry. I cry and I ache for the family that lost their son. I ache for the families that lost their daughters. I have vivid video in my head of the mother, sobbing as she tried to have a press conference, trying to tell the world about her daughter. And the only thing she said that I can remember with clarity is, "This doesn't make any sense!"

She said this through sobs that wracked her body, the anguish apparent, her soul screaming because her baby was taken from her with the type of violence that no one understands. And the tears keep coming.

I'm just a small town Momma with a mouth way too big for my own good. And that's okay. But the truth remains. I am scared for my monsters. I am terrified to know that my monsters are growing up in a world  where children are shot and killed at school, and bombs go off at a family event. I am horrified that I am having to create explanations that my little monsters will understand, for things that even adults don't understand.

Early yesterday morning, by accident, #5 saw coverage of a bomb dog working. He wanted to know what was going on. I had to think fast. So I did. "Well! Did you know that even dogs are superheroes sometimes? There are special dogs with super powers that work with policemen and firemen and other heroes for our country, and they can actually *smell*  bombs or drugs or other bad things and show their human partners where to find the bad stuff! How cool is that! So, that dog you see? He's showing people how he does his job!" #5 was properly awed and half whispered, "Cooooool!"

And I hated every minute of it.  I had to explain a bomb dog to my 7 year old. My seven. year. old. I could go into the inevitable comparisons now, with the "when I was 7, I was only traumatized by the fact that my cousins had all the Strawberry Shortcake figures and I had none!". But I won't. Because the fact of the matter is.. there is no comparison.

I don't know how to deal with this. I just don't. Give me an autism meltdown. Give me a sensory overload. Give me an allergic reaction. Give me a significantly overtired 4 year old that wants to eat ice cream for dinner. Give me a poop-splosion. Give me...anything... instead of having to explain what a bomb dog is to my seven year old son. Granted, he thought this was some nifty televised show and tell.  But that's not the point.

There was another 7 year old. He put it better in four words than I can in four thousand. "No more hurting people". And that's all that needs to be said, though the tears are flowing again. Now, we just need everyone to.... listen to the four words and take them to heart.

Sacred Family Saturday!

How to Make Calvin and Hobbes Snowmen 

Okay, people. See that thing up there ^^ in the big bold print? Click it already!

Seriously, click it! This is what we're going to screw up slave over attempt today! We say we're going to have a Calvin and Hobbes front yard every year, and never manage it. Even if I have to steal other peoples' snow, we WILL have Calvin and Hobbes snowmen. We WILL!!

Snow Day! image by d10watch.blogspot.com via Google images

Calvin and Hobbes walking by movie-posters.fedio.net via Google images

Prophets of doom by onceuponageek.livejournal.com via google images

Momma's Hit the Wall

I have hit the wall. And hit it and hit it and hit it, and recovery is not going well. I really am past the point where I can back up and regroup. There is so much going on, all the time, and I just don't have the elasticity anymore. This Momma is having a little moment.

You know how people say, "I don't know how you do it!"? Well, I want to grab their faces in both hands, and say, "I don't know, either! Please find a new role model. Please. I beg you." I am cranky. I am sad.. a lot. I cry more now than I ever have in my life. Spare me the insta-diagnosis of depression. Little pills won't fix the trouble my #5 has in school, the freakish massive allergic reactions Logan has been having even while on meds, the perpetual anger and drama with my teens, and a multitude of other things pertaining to my family that I don't know how to deal with.

Here's the thing: I'm no different than anyone else. Certainly I'm no different than any other parent of special needs children. I'm no different than any other mother of a large family. The problem is, I forget. When I see other mothers, other families, out in public, I forget that we're out in public. I see well mannered children, smiling mothers, clean cars, creased khakis, combed hair. And I wonder, "Why? What is wrong with me, that I can't be like that and do all that, too? Why?! Why am I not Donna Reed?!?!"

Ok. Let's take a breath here. Donna Reed? Really? I want to be Donna Reed, and wear high heels while vacuuming, have facial muscle cramps from smiling all the time, remove an earring to talk on the phone, and apply makeup and style my hair as though I'd just walked out of the salon by no later than 5am? That's what I want? Don't let's be silly now.... I am far, far too in love with my yoga pants and hair clips to be able to embrace that nonsense!

But it's easy to feel inferior, inadequate, and ineffective. It's soooo easy to walk around feeling like I'm just spinning my wheels in this rut I've dug for myself. What's that line from Pretty Woman? "The bad stuff is easier to believe." And there's that one other issue; I feel like a hypocrite.

I have a blog (obviously). I write on this blog. I talk about my special needs son. And all the monsters. But, I created this blog specifically to find and share resources that would be helpful to other families with special needs kids. Here's the problem. Logan is doing great now. I mean, he's doing really, really great. And I feel like a hypocrite.

Now, in my rational mind, I know that he isn't "cured" (because there is no such thing). And I know that he still has struggles. And I know that his medical issues will never, ever go away. But it's hard to know all that in the Momma part of my mind, while sitting in a meeting discussing test results with the school, and having them tell me that he no longer qualifies for any services because clearly, none of his "issues" are affecting his ability to learn. I struggle with this every day. Am I a hypocrite? Is this all some wonky, ongoing bad dream? Are Logan's PDD, SPD, seizures, fine motor struggles, and allergies really figments of my imagination, as the Daddy insists? Realistically, no. They are not figments of my imagination. But I second guess myself every. single. day.

I have hit the wall. So where do I go from here? Online support is amazing. I love knowing that I'm not the only one. But I have to tell ya... I'd give about anything at this point for a hen party, friendly voice, some good news, a night off. Something.

hitting the wall by onsconnect.org via the google images

donna reed and fam by dvdtalk.com via the google images
confused woman by nannanormasgranddaughters.blogspot.com

Jumpstart Your Fitness Resolution Flash Giveaway!!

The most common New Year's resolution seems to be the one that starts out, "This year, this is the year I will get back into shape. I will lose the baby weight. I will start eating right. I will stick to my fitness goal."  And, inevitably, it seems that this is also the resolution that is the hardest for us to see through.

Oh, we start out with good intentions, perhaps by purchasing more produce and cutting down on the convenience foods. Or by making it more than a week with that yoga DVD that we tried once last summer, and started having results with before life, once again, got in the way.

This is where I get to tell you all about the 30 Day Jumpstart Program by Step It Up with Steph. Stephanie Mansour, CEO of Step It Up with Steph, is a highly sought after personal trainer and coach for high powered females in Chicago, and combines yoga, pilates, personal training, and body image and confidence coaching for her clients. She was named a top 20 trainer by Nike in Chicago, and has been featured on CNN, AOL, Yahoo!, WGN TV, Crain's Business, and TV stations across the country. This is all because of her unique, holistic approach to being healthy and fit anywhere, any time, with her no diet/no guilt program.

Wait, what? No diet? No guilt? How is that possible? Well, Stephanie maintains that the mindset you have is imperative to losing weight. Here's a quote from her site that I just fell in love with:

It’s not about a strict diet; it’s about freedom.

It’s not about a burdensome workout; it’s about exciting “me” time.

It’s not about looking good for a reunion; it’s about feeling good for a lifetime.

There's no reason to dread your workout anymore. Here's what Steph offers her clients in her 30 Day Jumpstart Program:

• Exact exercises, times, and video tutorials on how to work out ~ no more 60 minutes of cardio - YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME!
• Food tips that work. Steph is careful to note that she is not a nutritionist; these tips are basic food tips.
• The exact system Steph uses with her private clients to get them into the proper mentality
• Videos to guide you through your daily (quick) yoga routine, Pilates routine, and workout routines
• 30 day workbook plus 30 daily videos to understand why it's been difficult to commit yourself, how you can change this, and how you can strengthen your relationship with yourself
• Step by step instructions and video to show you how to create your own mantra and positive affirmations. "I want to lose 10 pounds in 2 months" is not what your brain needs to hear. In fact, talking like this will sabotage your efforts.
• MP3 recordings of positive affirmations to create your own pump-up play list to use during your workouts
• Weekly phone calls (4) with the group to ask questions and stay on track, and the recordings if you miss the call
• Private facebook page to talk with me and other members of the group as you go through your workouts, the work book, and program
• A daily schedule to follow as a guide and have structure in your day
• The exact amount of water you should be drinking. If you don't do this, you will not be able to lose fat quickly!

Buy It:

Purchase the program for $197 before January 8 and join the newest group!

Win It:

Enter within the rafflecopter form below. There is only ONE, super easy mandatory entry. The rest just earn more entries for you! The more you share, the better your chances of winning! This is a flash giveaway which ends at 1159pm MST, January 6, 2013.This giveaway is valid in the US only.

Disclosure:

Comments posted below the blog post will not qualify as entries.  Entrants must be 18 yrs or older to participate. I was not compensated in any way, neither monetarily or through free product, for this post. Views and opinions stated in this post are mine alone. Quotes and image belong to Step It Up with Steph, and are used here with permission.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Finding Myself

The last few months have thrown me for a loop. There are so many new things going on, that I feel I can't keep up. I don't know how to define myself. I am the mother of seven children. This is not news. However, this year, I am the mother of a high school graduate, two high school students, a middle school student, an elementary school student, and two preschool students. Wow. Seeing that in print is kinda scary.

 I am the chef, chauffeur, housekeeper,  laundress,  advocate, postal worker, Momma Bear as needed,  teachers' aide for any number of teachers, a contributor for an online magazine, a book reviewer, college course counselor, motivational speaker for the monsters and the Daddy, comedienne, disciplinarian, and administrative assistant to the fam. But nowhere, in the description of all those jobs, does it tell me who *I* am. Me. Caryn. The..... person. And that's where I'm stuck.

I don't mean this in some deep, spiritual, religious way. I mean, I can't even tell someone what I like. I don't know what my favorite flavor, color, scent, book... whatever... is.  I really don't.  I don't know if I'm "good enough" to keep writing. I don't know if I have any extraordinary talents that define me. I just don't know.. me. And I have to tell ya; it's a little difficult to keep things together on the outside when the inside is so conflicted.

So, I'll apologize now for using my blog as a therapist for the day, while I attempt to muddle through.

I know there are things that have to be done because it's part of being the Momma and a responsible adult, like laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, showers, meetings, doctor's appointments. I know there are things that get done because it's in the best interest of my child(ren) like therapy, homework, diet changes because of allergies. There are things that get done because it makes my monsters smile, like going to get pumpkins from the "Punkin House" and jumping in leaf piles. And I'm all about having happy monsters.

But... again. That gets me no closer to finding out who *I* am. So here's what I have figured out. I am a rockin' awesome baker. This is not bragging. This is a fact. I'm sorry.. I know it sounds shallow, but it's true. If you are my friend on facebook, I apologize for the quantity of mouth watering pictures of baked goods on my timeline. But there's a little part of me that feels like I've accomplished greatness when I take something glorious out of the oven. And also? I feel calm when I bake. I feel like everything is okay, and whatever things are stressing me out at the time can be overcome. The more intricate the recipe, the more stressed out I am. Thus, the caramel apple cinnamon rolls that appeared on my timeline last week. Therapy through flour and wire whisk. That's my thing. Does baking "define" me?

If so, that's okay. That's good enough. I am Caryn. The mighty baker of many sinfully delicious things made from scratch, staged, and then cruelly posted on facebook for all my friends and family to drool over. We call that food porn. And I'm good at it!

I lust over KitchenAid mixers in catalogs (because I don't have a mixer at all, and I do everything literally by hand). I drool over cute little muffin tins, bundt pans, and painfully expensive pure vanilla. If I could have anything I wanted, I would have a Bosch mixer/blender/food processor. And.. let's be honest.. I'd also be able to eat anything I make without gaining an ounce. It's kinda sad, really.. because I'm happiest when I'm creaming together butter and sugar, or making cookies with the twinnies. I feel fulfilled when the fam rolls their eyes in flavor nirvana and asks for more. I am absolutely giddy when people beg me to stop posting food pics because their keyboard/monitor/phone is beginning to malfunction , because they have drooled all over it a few too many times.

Yes, yes. You know I'll share some of these cruel pics from my timeline with you. After all.. I kind of HAVE to now, don't I? Just be glad I don't text y'all. You'd block me and my pic messages. Seriously.

Ok. Therapy over. Time to drool.

Fresh Strawberry pie and cream

Ham and Cheese Potato soup

Chocolate Double Shot flourless
cake with vanilla bean ice cream
and fresh raspberry sauce

Peach Cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream

5 Grain Bread

Gingerbread/Egg Nog bread pudding

Who Am I? via the Google, by hupandsteph.com
Leaf pile play belongs to the Momma
Bosch mixer/food processor via the Google, by boschmixers.com
Food porn by the Momma

Earning The Merit Badge

The Boy Scout Motto is Be Prepared. It's short, it's sweet, it's to the point. And, to be quite honest, should be the motto for every parent- whether special needs are involved or not. I've had a lot of reason to think about being prepared in the last few months, with various things going on. And I just can't stop thinking of all the ways in which I lack preparation. I don't think I'm quite ready to earn that merit badge.

This summer, there were wildfires. We scrambled around to get laundry done, gather medications and important documents, and really hoped we wouldn't have to evacuate. We didn't, thankfully, because we only had enough gas in the car to go about 4.2 miles down the road. We were not prepared. I had not thought ahead and purchased foods Logan could eat in the event of an evacuation. After all, this is civilization! The grocery store will be open in the morning, right?!  I let his epi-pen get to the end of  the expiration month before calling to renew the prescription (last week).

We teach our monsters to think ahead, to anticipate circumstances. And yet, here I am, the hypocritical Momma that I am, caught with my proverbial pants down. So, this morning I asked all of YOU, through facebook and twitter, what things you would have to have in the event of an emergency. Here are some of the responses:

• external battery for iPad/iPod
• allergy friendly food, water
• emergency meds
• baby wipes
• weighted blankets
• favorite stuffed animal
• extra underwear
• iPad/iPod/Nook
• names and numbers of doctors/pharmacies/therapists

It's important also that monsters know what will happen in the event of an emergency. Practice makes perfect, and you know our special needs monsters need repetition and familiarity, so start working on alternative evacuation routes from your home when there is nothing going on, plan together what will go into their grab 'n' go bag, where it will be at all times for quick access, and where to take it.

I'm not one to stir the pot and scream "THE END IS NEAR!!" while standing on a corner wearing a sandwich sign. I'm not purchasing a quanset hut somewhere in Idaho, sewing black out curtains, rationing water, or teaching my children to walk around with vintage gas masks on their faces. But, I have to say, it really puts things in perspective to look at a forest fire and hope I have everything we need, while knowing that I don't.

It's not just natural disasters that constitute an emergency. Last Monday, I went with my mother to Grand Junction, CO to get my father out of the hospital and bring him home. He had been driving a truck to deliver a load in Denver, when he became ill, had to stop and be transported via ambulance to the hospital. Grand Junction is 383 miles from home, one way. That's a lot of gas. I didn't have any funds in savings to cover the trip. It took 19 hours when it was all said and done, and none of us had a clue it would be so long and slow. We figured it out. But.. I wasn't prepared for an emergency of that kind in any way, shape, or form. Are YOU?

Don't flip out!! Do not speed to Costco and the nearest military base and start buying cases of toilet paper, water, and MREs. Do NOT rack up three grand on your Visa buying a huge ugly tent at the Army surplus store. Plan. Make lists. Know what your family needs. Prepare to prepare. Then start working on it, one task at a time. Know what you have. Know how to use what you have. Know what you need. And then, when things go nutty? Wonder of wonders.. you won't have to panic, wondering if you have enough gas to get more than 4.2 miles down the road. You won't do a mental head smack because the epi-pen expires in a week and you're being evacuated without allergy friendly foods.

Don't be the hypocritical Momma with her proverbial pants down! Earn that merit badge, people. Be prepared. Make me proud, all you "Boy Scouts"!!


Be Prepared Scroll by Boy Scout Trail via Google, checklist via Google images, vintage gas mask image by Airminded via Google

Attack of the Screaming MeeMees

The past few days have been a cacophony of sound here at the Monster House. There has been screaming and crying and yelling, throwing of toys, and much use of the time out. Yes, people, it is the end of summer. And the monsters have had enough.

The twinnies especially are noticeably more irritable, craving the routine that comes with school days. It doesn't matter that our days are the same thing over and over again. It doesn't matter that bed time, dinner, bath, nap time, lunch, snack, and play time all happen at the same time every day. They crave more structure. The slightest thing will set off a meltdown that will last not minutes, not hours, but the entire day... and into the night. And, sometimes, more than one day. This can be caused by something as minimal as stopping for a snow cone on a hot day instead of going directly from lunch to nap. Or, on another day, a snow cone is a great idea, but going to the market to pick up something for dinner was the worst choice I could have made. Or, even worse.. staying home all day because I didn't want to cause upset. But because we didn't go out... they're.. upset!

As the Momma of the monsters, I try  understand that the twinnies are not "throwing a fit" just for the sake of throwing a fit. I know that Logan is not typically aggressive, and only becomes so after he is so overwhelmed he literally cannot cope. I know that #6 will become a crying, screaming, irrational monster if he is over tired. Ditto that with #5. And there is no relief until sleep comes. Did I mention that the twinnies are trying to stop taking naps? Saints preserve us!!

When all the monsterlettes have a complete come apart at once, it can get to be a little too much for the Momma to cope with ,too. This is what my mother used to call "The Screaming MeeMees". I don't know why. That's just what they were called, and that's what I call them now. There is no dealing with a child who is having a screaming meemee. It just has to run it's course. Now. We all know that I'm not good with waiting. I don't care what it is. Waiting in lines, waiting for a package in the mail, waiting for Christmas morning, waiting for screaming meemees to stop. I just can't do it. I must be missing the genetic inclination to leave things alone. And so, I invariably don't wait it out, but instead try to calm which ever monster is beyond calming, and invariably... make it worse.

I cannot stand to see my children cry. I cannot stand to know that they are so over stimulated they cannot calm down and regroup. I cannot stand to watch #6 cover his ears and rock and scream and cry until he wears himself out. It feels abusive to me, to just stand there and do nothing when my monsterlette is so upset. It feels like I should know what to do, like I should know how to see the meltdowns coming. Sometimes I can see it coming, and sometimes I can prevent it. But most times I can't. And I can't stop myself from trying to calm and soothe and "make better".

I've got a little too much of the "protect the cubs" gene. (<---How about them cubs?!?! I just love love LOVE pictures of seven babies of..ANYTHING!) Is this a character flaw? Wanting so badly to fix something I can't fix, because it's my monsters?

Where are the answers? Where is the manual? Where is the how- to guide? Can it be found on Wikipedia? At this point, I'd be happy with a nice, thick, obnoxiously yellow "Idiot's Guide to Parenting". Someone, somewhere, please tell me I'm not the only one....

Images in this post by Google, quickmeme.com, and gregdutoitblog.com, respectively.

Parent's Perspective on Back to School

Back to school. One of the things I dread the most. The amount of chaos associated with this time of year is enough to test even the most patient of parents.

Second only to IEP season, back to school is one of my least favorite times of year. This past Monday, I went to the high school to begin the two day process of registering my three teen monsters. It isn't that the process is beyond my capability. It isn't that I don't understand the forms or the fees or the reasoning. It IS that I sincerely dislike dealing with the dragon lady in the main office over and over again. It IS that I dread having to talk with the finance person and explaining (yet again) why I need to apply for a fee waiver. It IS because I feel the theme to Mission Impossible should be playing over the PA system as parents walk through the door, alternated with maniacal villainous laughter. Perhaps a banner screaming "Welcome to Hell" would be a nice touch. And we'll also throw in that weird feeling that even though I'll be 38 next month, I've somehow been sent to the Principal's office to be punished.

So, I've been thinking of ways that this could be turned into a more pleasant experience. Wouldn't it be lovely if *gasp* I could register all three teen monsters on the same day? Wouldn't it be a nice change of pace if the Dragon Lady actually..... smiled? And would it be testing fate too much to have her.. say thank you? Offering caffeine and sugar to parents as they walk in wouldn't hurt, either. I'm just sayin'. But most importantly, could we all just get along and stop making parents feel like this is punishment? Please? So... I drafted a helpful little note for my school administration.

Dear My Kids' School Administration:

It's a very simple thing to interact kindly with parents and still be successful school people. Unleash your inner Homer Simpson. Toss me a donut. Give me a smile - I promise your face will not crack if you try it. Don't make me feel like I'm inconveniencing you by registering my children in the school that employs you. I am not your enemy, my children are not here to make your life harder. I do not stay awake at night thinking of ways to make your life miserable. Therefore, neither should you. I can form complete sentences and everything. And, believe it or not, I can properly use words that have more than two syllables.

I am pleasant when I come to your office. I am respectful, I smile, and I thank you for your time. See how this works? It seems that the natural reaction would be to respond in kind. Think about it. It makes sense. Thanks in advance.

The Momma

I hope it's better the next time I go in....the alternative being something like this parent after she had to register her children, deal with the dragon lady et al, and  attend IEP meetings:

Images in this post from Google images

Is It Labeling, Or Is It Giving My Child A Chance?

There is a difference of opinion in the Monster House between myself and The Daddy. I am going to do my best to be impartial while representing each side. Though I know you will immediately be aware of which side is mine.

One of us is under the impression that allowing our child to have any kind of special needs diagnosis is simply labeling that child for life, placing him in an undesirable minority,  giving up as a parent, and setting the child up for failure forever after. The belief is that children should be encouraged to rise above their 'weaknesses' and learn to excel in spite of the hand you were dealt. There is no such thing as a meltdown and our child doesn't really have allergies. Kids outgrow allergies all the time. One of us attended one session of therapy with Early Intervention and called it hooey. One of us said that when we were growing up, kids didn't get coddled like this. We learned to be survivors. And everyone was treated the same, no special attention. That's what's wrong with the world today. Kids with labels are disposable to society. And our child is not disposable! There should be total inclusion in school no matter what. There should not be time spent in a special ed room, with a therapist, or with a Para. Kids can't grow and learn that way. You should never try to cram a kid into a category, thereby limited their potential.

The other one of us is under the impression that without at least a partial diagnosis, services and therapies (Para, OT, PT, SLP, IEP modifications to curriculum) and assistance in school, "rising above" would not have been even a remote possibility for our child. Without the allergist, we would not have an epi-pen for his severe allergies, which we now know were a large contributing cause to his seizures. One of us interrogated our OT when we started Early Intervention. And one of us learned how important it was. Without it, we would not know how to ride the meltdown wave. We would have had no idea how important deep pressure is for both of the twinnies when they just can't self-regulate. One of us thinks our child doesn't need to learn to be a survivor. He already is one. One of us believes that this is an ongoing process that requires constant tweaking and fine tuning to give our child the best possible opportunities in life. One of us does not feel as though this qualifies as hindering our child, or cramming him in to a category, or limiting his potential. In fact, quite the opposite.

Now. Take a little minute. If your blood pressure has spiked in any way, please take some cleansing breaths and sit back, and try to relax.

Here is the reason I am posting this. The disagreement in my home is the same disagreement in many homes. We are not unique in this. And yet, in millions of homes, in millions of families, this is a never ending source of conflict. I can't speak for millions of families. I can only speak for me. For me, having this perpetual conflict wears on me. I am doing everything I know to do. The Daddy feels the same. Is this really a fight about "you're wrong and I'm right"? Is it really necessary to perpetually play "I'm the better parent"? Both of us feel validation in our position.

Why is it so hard to agree to disagree, and appreciate the efforts both are making? I don't have any answers. The best I can come up with is, both parents are so invested in their child, so close to the situation, that when anyone (including the other parent) interferes or questions their methods, it feels like a direct attack. Clearly, both parents love the child enough to intervene on their behalf. The problem lies in the execution.

Should one of us really be trying to ram research, thoughts, experiences, successes and failures down the other's throat? Should one of us really be insisting that the other is always harming instead of helping?

The conflict itself is the problem. I always feel attacked, and the Daddy always feels ignored. Well.. that, and we both have trigger tempers. And foul mouths. And neither one of us is stupid, and both of us have elephant memories. But I'll tell ya, it frustrates both of us that we can't figure out a solution. We can't find answers to please us both. Is there ever a time when we'll be able to get along and respect the other in regard to our child?

images via the Google

Swimming Suit Wars

My #4 needs a new swimming suit so she can participate in a swimming activity with her church youth group on Wednesday. This has presented a new kind of hell for me and The Daddy, as she is thoroughly convinced that she needs a bikini. We are thoroughly convinced that she does not. I realize that she is 12, and I realize that she has her own fashion sense. And, most of the time I allow her to create her own outfits and sense of style. There's nothing wrong with that. However, when it comes to bikinis on a 12 year old, I'm not going to be changing my mind. #4 is NOT 007's Honey Ryder. She's 12. And that means I'm still in charge of her wardrobe for at least 6 more years.

Last night, the "discussion" came to a head, and the tears and the whining and the "But everyone else's parents let them have bikinis!" was in full swing. When it got to be too much for me to tolerate while looking online with her at one piece suits that I would allow, and she was on chorus 126,487 of "You're the meanest Mom in the whole world!", I finally snapped. "#4! If you do not cease and desist that whining and complaining immediately, we're going to get you a vintage suit from the 1900s!" She looked interested until she saw what I meant.

The good news is that the Daddy took her shopping for a suit this morning so I don't have to. The bad news is that he's a much softer touch, and vulnerable to #4's repertoire of puppy dog eyes, tears, and trembling little chin. She is a total Daddy's Girl, and he likes being her hero. So, to prepare him for the onslaught of femaleness he had no idea was coming, I emailed him several pictures of suits available in stores in our area to use as a guide. The man has an iPad. It's time it was used for good, not evil. I'm kinda scared to see what winds up coming home with them. Please let it be bigger than a kleenex.

I'm not here to criticize others for letting their girls wear bikinis. Their kids, their choice. But my girls will not. We don't go to the extremes of modesty that say, the Duggars, do with their girls. I'm fine with a one piece suit. It was good enough for Baywatch (though I don't want my child in a suit with the legs cut up to her armpits, either...), and they pulled it off just fine. However, I will not allow bikinis while my girls are living at home. I just don't see the necessity. Oh! Brainstorm! I could tell her that she's a redhead and that much skin exposure to sun, is a bad idea, since she burns so quickly and deeply. But I won't. Because even though it's true, that's not the most important reason. 12 year olds do NOT need to be showing everything they've got. They haven't even got anything yet!

So.. here's what I need to know. Am I the meanest Mom in the whole world? Not because I would change my opinion based on y'alls answers, but because I really do want to know if everyone else allows their 12 year olds to wear bikinis... or even worse ~ the monokinis I saw on the Macy's site last night. *shudder* And, if you do, I have a question. Why?

Images via the google. Specifically, Honey Ryder image by Wikipedia.

Two Kisses For Maddy

I am totally and completely addicted to reading. I would rather read that do just about anything else. I am the kind of reading addict librarians dream about. And, every once in a while I come across a book that is so well written, so moving, that I have to tell everyone about it. So, today you're getting an unsolicited "book review" about my latest favorite book.

I live under a rock. This is common knowledge. Therefore, the fact that this book is on the NY Times best seller list and I didn't know anything about it did not come as a shock to me.

Two Kisses For Maddy will, as the cover says, make you cry. You will cry at the circumstances. You will cry at the tenderness, instinct, and genuine love this father has for his daughter.

Here is a brief, VERY brief, summary of this story: the day after giving birth, the author's wife died from a blood clot, leaving behind their tiny little 3 pound newborn daughter in the NICU and a devastated husband and father. You will read his powerful, emotional, and yes - at times profane- journey of learning to be a parent.. more than that, a single parent, as well as a widower.

I read this book in a matter of hours, devouring every word. Feeling my heart alternately constrict with sympathy and swell with joy and admiration as I read about his revelations in parenting, his grief as a widower, and his constant desire to do the things with his daughter that his wife had wanted to do, and to take her places around the world that they had been together before her birth.

But, the very best part for me was the part at the end of the book, after the discussion section (I hate discussion sections in any book. I get the point of them, but for me, it's a tease, making it look like the book is longer than it is.). There are photos the author has taken of his daughter and his wife, in the same places. Totally tugged at my heart strings.

I got this book from the library, but, you can click the image of the book above, and it will take you to the official Two Kisses For Maddy website, where you can get even more info about the book, and purchase as well.

I challenge you to read this. Whether you enjoy reading as much as I do, or you only read occasionally, this is one book you really don't want to miss.

Book cover image by twokissesformaddy.com. Image above is embedded with the website link. This is NOT a sponsored post, and all views and opinions stated within this post are my own. Your views and opinions may differ from mine.

Beetle Juice

Yesterday, I took the twinnies to the pediatrician for their 4 year old well check. As always there were a couple of questions I had, and some re-evaluatiing to do. There was some good news, some weird news, and three referrals by the time we finished.

First, the good news! Logan has not had a seizure in a year! Therefore, seizures are officially no longer part of his diagnosis. Yay!! We think they were allergy related, as he was never on medication for seizures, and they were never regular in the first place.

Second good news: no shots! We're current until next year. Woohoooo! (don't hate because we vaccinate. Logan's issues did not come from vaccine injury.)

And now, the weird news. The truly bizarre. Logan has a wart on the inside of his left arm, between wrist and elbow. And he picks at it until it bleeds quite a lot. I didn't want to address this with the pediatrician, because we all know what happens when you show a doctor a wart that is growing. There is scary, painful freezing that will happen, and you just know that it isn't going to go over well.

Well. While Logan was getting his wart examined, the pediatrician looked at me intently and said,"In OUR office.." (and I'm thinking, yes.. we are in YOUR office..) "we freeze warts. But at a DERMATOLOGIST'S office, they use.... BEETLE JUICE! And beetle juice is painless and it does as good a job as freezing, and with Logan's sensory issues and his young age, I think beetle juice is the best, but it's up to you."

uh-HUH. Doctor, have you been inhaling a few too many alcohol wipes? So, I made him explain himself. Turns out? It's true! I totally googled this. Many species of blister beetles secrete a substance called Cantharidin. The Cantharidin is painted on the wart and covered with a very awesome bandaid (like there are any other kind) for 24 hours while the wart blisters. (bring in the Co-Flex! sensory kid, here. That bandaid has no chance.) Then, the bandaid is removed, and the blister is allowed to dry out. When the dried out blister falls off, it takes the wart with it. Easy Peasy! And no seriously painful freezing! How completely cool is this?!?! And now we have a referral for a dermatologist. For beetle juice.  My insurance company is gonna LOVE this one!

Has anyone ever done wart removal this way? Any helpful hints? I'd love to hear about it!

Also.. for those of you looking for updates about Jackson, you can keep current by visiting his site jacksonsjourney.specialhappens.com for his latest blog posts, his facebook page for the latest pictures and updates, or Living with Logan on facebook for daily updates from Jackson's Momma. You can also follow the hashtag #JacksonsJourney on twitter.

Bacon bandages by perpetualkid.com. Canthardine via the Google images. Blister beetle chart, and many MORE blister beetle photos, which are actually amazing, from Flickriver.

And Now... The News

Happy Monday, all my dedicated Monster House addicts! There is SO much to tell you today. Firstly, though... a HUMONGOUS standing ovation to everyone who is participating in Jackson's Mail Flurry! Bombdiggity!!! I have heard several times from Gina, Jackson's mother, how touched and truly thankful the family is for all the love and support they feel with each envelope and package they receive. My cup runneth over, y'all. I'm proud of ya!! Keep those cards and letters coming. And, if you need a flier about the mail flurry to post on your church bulletin board, at a daycare, a library, your pediatrician's office, OT's office, whatever... shoot me an email and I'll be happy to send you the PDF.

Speaking of the mail flurry.. there is a completely awesome giveaway being hosted by my friend Deanne over at Small But Kinda Mighty. Here's all the info. What you do is, click on over to her site using the "completely awesome giveaway" link above. Create an ecard for Jackson using any iOS app, and then email it to babyomum@live.com .If you do not have an iOS device, no worries! Create a paper card, and scan it or take a digital picture of it, and email the pic to the email address above. Now, the cool part about doing this is, THEN you can enter some of her giveaways and gain extra entry points for emailing her the card! What could you win?? 

• $10 gift card to iTunes, Target, or Amazon
• One app of your choice from KidsAndBeyond, and a copy each of 123 Kids Fun All In One and 123 Kids Fun Alphabet.
• Copy of 123 Kids Fun All In One and 123 Kids Fun Alphabet

Seriously.. how cool is THAT?? So, when you're done reading the news report from the Monster House, click on over people!! Deanne wants to collate all the cards that are emailed to her and get them to Jackson so he can see them before his surgery. And people? Surgery is this Friday. Get on it!!!

Next in the news, and just as important, is a need that became known to me late last week. Jackson needs a weighted blanket. And he needs it now.  Any of you that have little monsters, or even big monsters, with sensory issues know how helpful a weighted blanket can be. And you also know how seriously expensive they are.  Carl from Why Not Fathers has posted about this and has a great idea for getting them the blanket they need. Check it out by clicking the "great idea" link above. In case his idea doesn't work(and it might not), we are running a little fundraiser. We need to raise $300 pretty dang quick. It's not a lot of money, and it will purchase the weighted blanket Jackson needs. Please help, whether you donate $2 or $20, your contribution is enormous. Your help in promoting this fundraiser is greatly appreciated. We need to get the word out, and we need to do it quickly, so I'll ask you to please share this to facebook, twitter, google +, whatever social media you use, please post. Donations can be made through rally.org, and the info can be found in the next paragraph.

This brings me to the last bit of news for today. Sober up, y'all. And pay close attention. This part isn't going to be all fun and glitter. Here we go. Jackson's surgery is this Friday. As in, four days from now. That's quite a reality check, isn't it? On Friday afternoon, the halves of Jackson's brain will be separated. And no one is really quite sure what the outcome will be until they see it. And this is where it gets real. On Jackson's official site, there are not only daily updates, but also links for donations to the family through rally.org, and a page full of resources for those of you who would like to send gift cards for gas, meals, or groceries. Addresses for care packages and other resources can be found there as well. Remember, these needs start happening this weekend. THIS WEEKEND. The hospital is 30 miles away, which will make their gas costs soar. Gina and Hubs will be spending all the time they can at the hospital with Jackson, and will need to eat. The sibs will be tended while Gina and Hubs are at hospital, and there will HAVE to be groceries in the house. I think of it like this: if it were one of MY monsters having this surgery, I know Gina would be posting things like I am. I can't do any less for her, Jackson, and her fam.

I am continuously astounded at your generosity. I am regularly brought to tears with all you do for others. I know it's a lot that I'm asking. But, I'm asking. Because you would do it for me.

Broadway standing ovation image via The Producer's Perspective

What NOT To Do For Happy Pappy Day

Acceptable gift for Happy
Pappy Day

Today is Happy Pappy Day, that time of year when dear 'ol dad gets the crazy ugly ties, the socks, the coffee mugs. The macaroni art, the fingerpaintings, the sloppy kisses, extended nap time in the La-Z-Boy, and unlimited use of the remote control. The rest of the family gets ear plugs.

If the Momma is feeling particularly nice, there might be a sirloin roast for dinner, followed by Key Lime pie for dessert (ew).

Make a note:Not okay
 for Happy Pappy Day.

However you celebrate Happy Pappy Day in your family, remember to be nice to the Daddy.  Tell him you love him. Show him your appreciation. Just for today, do not hop on pop. It's not polite. Tomorrow you can resume your previously scheduled pop hopping.

At this time, teenagers should refrain from asking for funding, demanding keys to a vehicle, taking all the hot water in the shower, talking on the phone for hours, and drama queen activities. Also, it might be a good idea for daughters in the fam to postpone the meeting of the new boyfriend who has the long hair and the Harley until after Happy Pappy Day. It's never good when the Daddy feels the urge to get out the 12 gauge, and is consequently arrested for intent to cause bodily harm.

The Momma should attempt to hide her irritation with the fact that she just washed dishes and there are now 37 different dirty bowls, plates, and cups because the Daddy needed snacks for The Race. There should be no long-suffering, high decibel sighing happening when she does the laundry and has to deal with skid marks. Yet again.

Do the laundry with a smile. Or at least, a
pleasant grimace.

When the Daddy hollers for a drink, snack, remote, or new roll of toilet paper, the fam should NOT holler back "What? Your legs are broken? You can't get it yourself?" And, following the Daddy's extended stay in the bathroom, the fam should NOT scream, "I'm melting, melting!"

Disclaimer: These are not the suggestions of an educated professional. These suggestions should not be used in lieu of proper medical attention. These suggestions have not been approved by the FDA. Consult your physician before beginning any exercise routine. Do not discontinue taking medication without medical supervision.

Images via Google images. 

Watching Miracles

Yesterday, I spent most of my time on facebook watching miracles happen. I am so overcome with emotion because of this, I simply had to share. No matter how many times I will be allowed to see something like this, the wonder and the awe will never, ever go away. Ever.

Here's how it went down. Yesterday morning. I went to a particular fb group of ASD parents I belong to, to beg for help on behalf of the St. Aubin family, for a mail flurry. Don't know what I'm talking about? Haven't got the foggiest? I can help you out with that. Click here for the skinny. (No, I do not need to know how the previous sentence shows my age. Let's move on.) Okay. Is everyone up to date now? Good. This is the fun part!

Suddenly, all over the facebook was this status update, that people copied and pasted on their personal pages, their blog pages, just... everywhere! It showed up on well known blogger pages. It showed up on pages of people I have never met, but who wanted to help. It generated a LOT of interest. And seriously? The weather report for the Post Office in Littleton, Colorado is now "100% chance of flurries" until further notice. Dress accordingly, postal workers! Also... put in for some overtime. Because love for the St.Aubin family is going to begin to manifest itself through the US Mail. Eat yer Wheaties. Get some rest this weekend. I'm just sayin'.

While I was all giddy and entertained watching this happen, other things started to happen, too! Bloggers started posting for the St.Aubin family. Check out this awesome post over at Seven Yuckmouths and Autism! And it doesn't stop there!

An artist (who was a childhood friend of mine) saw my post on my personal fb wall. Sorry, Jackson's Momma.. you were excluded from seeing that post, on purpose. Some things in life should be surprises!! Because she has epilepsy herself, Jackson's story touched her deeply. She is creating a triple canvas masterpiece custom made for Jackson, with a train and a rainbow. She is enormously talented, and I can only imagine the love and good wishes that will be put into such a gift with each stroke of the brush. The image above is the rough sketch. This is a rough sketch?!?! I'm intimidated by people who can successfully draw stick figures, and this is way more better than a stick figure. Can't WAIT to see the finished product on canvas!

Y'all have really come through.. again.. but I expected nothing less from all the amazing people we call family within our special needs community. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for coming together to show the St. Aubin family how very much we all care about them. I know for a fact that they are touched beyond measure. But don't stop now!!! We're just getting started!

If YOU would like to help with the mail flurry by sending a card, picture, care package, or letter, or have other ideas for ways to help, please email me at frazzledmomma@livingwithlogan.com, connect with me on facebook, or tweet me! I'll be happy to connect with you.

Miracles quote by Google images, via everyday-miracles.net

Train image via Amber Tilley

Strings of Spit

Every day I am reminded in some small way (and sometimes in large ways) that there are things about Motherhood that no one ever warned me about. This is unfair! UNFAIR, people! No one ever had the courtesy to warn me  that my children would excel at public humiliation, public nudity, and strings of spit. No  one told me I would, at some point, no longer be able to tolerate wiping noses (Because I have major sensory issues with slimy things).

As you all know, I have been doing the yoga. I have a love/hate relationship with the yoga. I love the results. I am beginning to hate the abnormally skinny, never perspiring, always cheerful yoga witch. And I hate that she never ever has to stop to take huge gulps of water in between gasps for oxygen. She just smiles, and continues to bend herself into impossible positions. And smiles. And never finds religion while she does it.

It was during yoga practice (that sounds almost pleasant, doesn't it? Don't worry. It's not.) today that I got another little reminder about things I was never warned about.

I thought I was dying. I was sure my temperature was at least 189 degrees. I was gasping for oxygen. I was dying of thirst. So I grabbed my water bottle, flipped off the cap and went to take a gulp.. and... strings of spit. Strings of spit all over the top of my water bottle. I was no longer thirsty.

It seems I have tasters now. Isn't that nice? Whether it's a meal, a coffee, a bottle of water, a cracker, or a grape, my darling little monsters will always get to my portion before me. Why is that? It is so not okay to find strings of spit on my water bottle when I'm dying. I'm sure they're doing it to make sure I'm not being poisoned... aren't they???

My chapsticks are drooling so much I have begun to think they are teething. Please tell me I am not the only one that has monsters that do this. It drives me crazy! I can give each monster their own chapstick, water bottle, dinner, snack, mug of hot chocolate, etc. And they will invariably take mine instead. grrrrrr!

Woman spitting out water by Google images, via fark.com.

Woman pouring water over face by google images via quality-exercise-equipment.com

We Are Our Own Worst Enemy

I have a lot of phone calls late at night with other special needs parents in various states. They are friends of mine, and we talk frequently, and at some length. We talk about everything under the sun. We see each other online in various support groups, on facebook, and on twitter. Most of us are bloggers. Some are not. But the thing that brought us together in the first place was the fact that we are all parents of at least one special needs child. It doesn't matter what the diagnosis for our children is. We are all doing the "long, hard journey without a map" thing.

We laugh together. We cry together. We curse at the powers that be. We rant about lack of services, clueless school districts/teachers/principals/doctors/therapists/neighbors. We rejoice when one of our children makes progress. We send birthday greetings, and  "I'm rapidly losing my mind!" texts. We know that it may take hours for a text to get a response, and we understand. We are family, though we may not have ever met in person, we are family. We understand, and we empathize. Because we are all traveling without a map. I am no different than many,many MANY special needs parents who seek online support and understanding and reassurance.

But invariably there is drama. One person loves Autism Speaks, another foams at the mouth if Autism Speaks is mentioned even in passing. Someone supports a fraudulent iPads for Special Needs Kids organization, many others despise the lies and the schemes. The drama grows to a point at which the closeness is lost. The friendship is gone. It doesn't matter anymore that the parents met in the first place because of their children. It doesn't matter that the goals are the same, though the methods are not.

Suddenly, the support and friendship and reassurance of yesterday becomes today's sworn enemy. That begs the question, "Why can't we all just get along?" Regardless of whether my child's autism is genetic or a vaccine injury, we both have children with autism. Regardless of which organizations you support and which you publicly shun, we're all in this together.. doing the very best we know how to get our kids what they need.

People are shuttling back and forth between support groups, joining this one, banning that one, tweeting threats, taking screen shots, is it all worth it? In some cases, where crimes are committed, yes. It's worth it. But in general, if it's just a case of disagreement between parents.. WHY? What is the point? Why??? Seriously. I need to know. What is the purpose? It's getting ridiculous, and it's ruining the sense of community.

video via Youtube. Because you know, that wasn't obvious at all.

Penny Penalties

The Monster House has a new system going, and it's working out so well, I simply had to share! We've had a little problem with our Notorious #5 and profanity. And I don't mean the nicer ones. He's been dropping the F-bomb with increasing regularity ever since the bullying incident. No matter what we tried, our 7 year old's potty mouth just didn't stop. And then, the other day I had an epiphany. #5 loves money. Loves it. He is forever asking to go to the store and buy a toy. He wants treats. He wants to rent movies. And so, the Penny Penalty was born. It goes a little something like this:

PENNY PENALTIES

• Fighting with siblings -----------PAY 10
• Copying --------------------------PAY 8
• Cursing ---------------------------PAY 5
• Yelling At Mom -----------------PAY 15
• Not Minding ---------------------PAY 5
• Being Asked To Do Something More Than Once --- PAY 5

PENNY REWARDS!!!

• Do A Chore For Mom ----------------------------EARN 3
• Do What Mom Asks The FIRST Time ----------EARN 5
• Clear Your Dishes After Meals -----------------EARN 10
• Put On Pajamas------------------------------------EARN 3
• Play Nicely With Twinnies ----------------------EARN 10
• Go To Bed On Time With No Arguing (8pm) -- EARN 25!!!!!

I am amazed at how well this is working. You'll notice that the penalties cost more than most reward earnings. There's a reason for this. Also, we make sure that chores are age appropriate, like putting away his shoes, making his bed, throwing away something for Mom, etc. And each task earns rewards!

Perfect for use as a Penny Bank!
Easy for little ones to open and close.

This is working so well, that the twinnies are taking part. It's mind boggling how much calmer the Monster House has been the last couple of days. There is no nagging. There is no frustration. You win some, you lose some. And, because the twinnies and #5 each have their own tiny little storage box with a lid, they can see how their amounts rise and decline with each transaction. We got ours via a school swap meet, but I see via the link up there ^^ that you can get them at Office Depot as well. That picture to the right shows a box just like ours.. but the image belongs to Office Depot.

I went to the bank and got 5 rolls of pennies, then put them in a pint sized glass canning jar. I think that's going to last quite a while. When I told a friend about this, she was shocked. "Caryn! You're paying your children to do what you want!"

I beg to differ. I am teaching my children that there are consequences and rewards for their actions. I am reinforcing the fact that parents and house rules are to be respected and obeyed, in a visual way.  And, tossing a little life lesson in there for when they're older. It always takes longer to earn than it does to spend!!

Images of pennies via Google images. Tiny Storage Box image property of Office Depot. This is not a product review, and I was not compensated by Office Depot. I'm sure they have no idea who I am, that I use these boxes, or that I have a blog. So there.

Weeding : A Metaphor For Life

Yesterday, I spent all morning and afternoon digging out weeds on the hill that runs next to our driveway. I have the blisters, sunburn, and screaming muscles today to prove it.

While I was weeding, I was getting more and more jealous of my next door neighbors, who hired a bunch of people to work on their back yard, pour a concrete curb, and in the middle of my weeding nightmare, a big 18 wheeler pulled up and unloaded 9 pallets of gorgeous green sod in their back yard. I was miffed. That's cheating, you know, and here I am, going on 5 hours of non-stop weeding on a hill that borders BOTH of our driveways. And who do you think will get to do it again when it gets weedy a few weeks from now, hmmm? (mostly I was irritated because it wasn't my back yard being given a makeover..) It's a solitary sport. But I digress.

Then, I started thinking. While I was weeding this eyesore, I came to a realization. There's a lot of time to think while weeding, you know. And it occurred to me that weeding is a lot like being the parent of a special needs child. Just hear me out. Weeding, much like attending an IEP meeting, or taking a child to yet another specialist/therapist/allergist is a pain in the butt. But you do it because you know you'll be happy that it's done. In ideal situations, you'll be able to look back on the effort you've put in and smile with satisfaction. It's inevitable that you'll have to do it again. But, once you do it the first time, it's really just about maintaining the result. You may come out of the experience a little battle weary, a little crankier, and both weeding and IEP meetings can contribute to the need for ibuprofen. But there's the knowledge that you accomplished it once already, so you know youj're capable of doing it again.

There ya go. Weeding. It's a metaphor for life. And that, my dear Monster House addicts, is your deep thought for a Friday.

Happy weekend, everyone!

The uber awesome image in this post ironically originates from icanfixupmyhome.com , via the Google images.