blah blah blah about the blog

When I started this blog over 3 years ago (!!!), I think my aim was to have a conversation about autism. No- that's not quite right- my aim was to have a conversation about my son who is autistic. About my life as his mother. A conversation with strangers who had something in common with me. In doing so, I hoped to quiet my mind (a phrase from my yoga DVD) and find comfort and familiarity in a situation that was sometimes uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

Over the next 300 posts (this turns out to be published post #302), I did find comfort. And I found friends. And I found a voice. I found a hobby that was/is quite rewarding to me.

But I didn't quite think through the ramifications of this little website. I told my family about it- mostly because I didn't want them to think I was hiding something from them- sneaking down to the basement to clickity-clack on my secret computer project. But I didn't tell anyone else. None of my real-life friends or co-workers. No one.

It wasn't a deep, dark secret or anything, but more like this: say I decided to take up tap dancing or some other new interest; I might not be that good at it, no one else might really give a shit about it, I would seem like I was fishing for compliments if I told everyone about it, and really, it's just something I'm doing for me- something private between me and my tap shoes. I talk to my new tap-dancing friends about it because it's something we share, but I'm not going to bore the hell out of my neighbors by telling them about it... ok, you get the analogy.

And then, after a couple years went by, it seemed even weirder to tell anyone, because if they surfed over to check it out they'd see all these dozens of posts of baggage, and it would seem like I had been keeping this big secret side of me, and again like I was fishing for compliments...

I realize that I'm waaay over-thinking this, but that is my tendency, isn't it?

But my mom and my husband, God bless them both, have been telling lots of folks about this blog. (And I never told them not to, so it's not like they're going against my wishes, or they didn't know that they were.) But a couple weeks ago they each told someone new about the blog who has a connection to Henry's school.

And that was just a little to close for comfort. So I freaked out and didn't write anything for awhile, briefly made the site for invite only (with myself as the only invitee!), and now I'm posting this little brain-dump.

I have lots of options: I could go to a invite-only site. I could keep this site but be more careful (more thoughtful?) about what I write. I could go to a host like vox that lets me decide what kind of post I'm writing (for public or private publishing). None of those options is totally appealing to me, I think because the first option eliminates the opportunity to meet new readers, while the other two options require more work on my part.

So that's the state of the blog right now. Please weigh in with your thoughts about blogging, privacy, and my over-reaction to the situation. I'd like to know what you think.

So I've been thinking about what I want to write about:

The worry that grips me whenever Henry is sick, as he has been the past few days. I know this worry is pretty ridiculous when you consider that some mothers have things like brain tumors to worry about, while my child has a common cold virus, and all it really comes down to is that he's been sickly all his life and I don't like it.

And really Henry's probably toying with me when he asks me to tell and re-tell the story of the worst day of my life while we wait in the doctor's office for 2 hours next to the little girl holding a barf bowl. He's really just trying to weaken my defenses so I will agree to buy him 3 rewards (a dvd, puzzle, and sticker book, oh and also a box of Christmas Tree Cakes) rather than the one reward that was promised. Touche little sick one.

Maybe a more entertaining thing for me to write about would be how much of an ass I made of myself at Thomas' preschool for those 2 weeks that L was out of commission. I'm a little perplexed that I feel comfortable talking to strangers at work all day long, most of the time without embarassing myself, but talking to other parents at preschool seemed to make me lose all sense.

Just to appreciate the faux pas, let's imagine the scenario using my blogging friends and their children. Say we're all out in the hallway waiting for our children to be dismissed from class (wouldn't that be awesome if they all went to the same school?!). I turn to, say, MOM-NOS and say "Did Nik have fun at the zoo this weekend?" And MOM-NOS answers "I don't know." I furrow my brow over this odd answer for a few seconds until I realize that MOM-NOS must not be Nik's mother.

Yes, quite embarrassing. Made only slightly better by Thomas telling me "it's ok mommy, I mix up Nik and Bud's mommies all the time. They kind of look alike." Not really comforting coming from the 4-year-old who doesn't even know all his classmates' names.

Ironically, in this same imaginary scenario, Bud bites Tommy the next day. So MOM-NOS (who I've been trying to avoid after my slip-up) stops me on the way in to pick up the kids. She says "I'm so sorry that Bud bit Tommy."

And I blurt out "Well I'm so sorry that I thought you were Nik's mom!"

I then go on with something inappropriate about how my older son has autism and hurts other kids sometimes so I totally understand. Why did I respond this way? It sounded both like I thought her child was autistic and also like I thought it was just fine for children to hurt one another.

By the end of the week, when another nice mom inquired about having a playdate, I just stared at her with deer-in-the-headlights eyes. A PLAYDATE?! HOW DOES THAT WORK? DO I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU THE WHOLE TIME? BUT I'LL SAY SO MANY STUPID THINGS!

I guess I'll just chalk it up to being out of my element for a couple weeks. We live in a different school district than most of these people, so I can start over fresh when Tommy starts kindergarten next fall.

For some reason I am reminded of an embarrassing moment from when Kate was little:

It was first grade and she had just come to live with us. I had an inferiority complex about not being a "real mom". I thought all the other mothers new all the secrets because they had actually birthed their children. I freaked out about packing her lunch and bringing a dessert to the Brownie potluck. I thought that all the other moms made homemade secret recipe treats, and that they were given those secret recipes at the hospital before they brought their babies home or something. (I thought that until I arrived at the first potluck event and saw the table covered with store-bought cookies.)

So, it was Halloween night and a friend from Kate's class comes to the door with her mom. I'm trying to make friendly-mom chit-chat, and I say "so is M's dad at home giving out candy?" M's mom replies "I don't know." See, it turns out that M's mom and dad were never married and never lived together. It turns out that not every family is cut from the same cookie-cutter. I was so busy feeling like the odd man out because I was a step-mom (and not even a legal stepmom yet at that point- we weren't married), that I didn't realize there were lots of other unconventional families out there as well.

It's disconcerting that I still feel so uneasy around other moms sometimes- 2 kids and 12 years later.

fantasy

I walked into the boys' bedroom yesterday morning to wake them up, and Thomas startled me by saying plaintively "I just wish the Ninja Turtles could be real." Perhaps he was dreaming about the Ninja Turtles and woke up with that thought on his mind- lying there in the dark, half awake, half asleep.

Moments like this often catch in my heart. Here's something I don't like about being a mom, a parent, a grown-up: I don't like being the voice of reason all the time; the dream-crusher. I remember how that felt as a child; to so love the book you were reading or the movie you were watching that it pained you to acknowledge that it wasn't real- that E.T wasn't hiding in your closet, your car couldn't really fly, or you wouldn't uncover a mystery if you took enough notes in your spy notebook.

I know that L has had to break the news to Tommy that he is not a superhero and cannot fly. I know she had to tell him this for his own safety. But yesterday morning, in the pre-dawn dark of my sons' room, I just said "who knows? Maybe they are real and we just have never seen them." And I felt like a 4-year-old all over again.

issues

I would really rather not give everyone the impression that I'm totally neurotic and frantic about my children leaving me at any moment. I kind of thought that I was over that stuff I wrote about in the last post. But then this morning I had a bad dream:

Tommy was leaving. Going somewhere on his own. I'm not clear on the exact circumstances- if Bill and I were divorced and the boy was going off to visit his dad, or maybe he was just going off on a trip by himself. But he was standing out on a street corner in his yellow crocs and blue spiderman t-shirt- not any older or bigger than he is now- waiting for a taxi to pick him up.

I was watching him through a window, trying to be cool, but then just lost it and ran out to him, crying, and begged him to come back home and stay with me for awhile. I was on my knees, hugging him and sobbing, and he was like "ummm, I don't know mommy. Actually, I think I'll go."

Is that messed up or what? I am getting all choked up again, just thinking about it.

It's going to be a long 14 more years for this kid, what with trying to live his life while his mom drags along behind him, holding on to his ankles.

photos and a meme

Right you are, Christine. Fodder for a light blog post is just what I needed! Thanks. I didn't get to it over the weekend, and that's probably for the best, as the basement at home would make the "5 things in your room" question kind of unmanageable and/or uninteresting.

So, as I eat my lunch...

5 things found in my bag:

I carry this big black Kenneth Cole bag. I think Bill gave it to me before we were even married. It has held up well. I carry around all kinds of unfinished business in there, along with

-my purse (damn, it's on sale now!)

-our check register (watching every day for that "stimulus money" to be deposited!)

-this hair product on the rare day that I do use it, it's applied in the car or after I've arrived at work

-5 Bed Bath and Beyond 20% off coupons

-100+ pieces of paper pertaining to summer special needs programs, recipes, mapquest directions, e-mail addresses of my jury duty friends, etc. etc. etc.

5 favorite things in my room (office):

A Harry Potter poster hanging next to Henry's 2007 Mother's Day project

Henry made this planter at school. I bought the shamrock plant on our trip to the conservatory last spring.

Photos of the kids, a "sweet strawberry" Yankee candle, a tiny wooden vase Kate bought me on vacation one summer, a stuffed squirrel my boss gave me as a joke the day I was freaking out after hitting a squirrel on the way to work...

That's at least 5 things.

5 things I always wanted to do:

-Visit New Orleans

-Get together with my internet friends in real life

-Be independently wealthy

-Finish that Einstein biography

-stay awake while lying in bed with my son so that I can watch tv or have a conversation past 9 pm

5 things I am currently into:

-Amy Winehouse's cd (I know, I'm behind the times)

-jogging a couple times a week

-Lost

-trying to figure out what the future holds for our family but not freak out about it

-these:

my week

I'm having a hard time with this new routine. With my new life as a JUROR. Please indulge a little play-by-play boo-hooing:

Monday was a Federal holiday, so we had no trial. So I went in to work and tried to get as much accomplished as I could. Then, Tuesday, Thomas's birthday, I had to go back to court. Just as a coincidence, L had an appointment that morning and had asked us weeks and weeks before if we could just drop the kids off at preschool that morning, and she would pick them up.

If I were attending my real job, that would be no problem- I'd get to work maybe 1/2 hour later than usual and would be able to pick up donut holes for Thomas to take to school for a birthday treat. BUT, in the current circumstance, I can't be 1/2 hour late for the trial and make all those people wait for ME. So I had to run to the store at 6:30 am, pick up the treat, take the boy to Bill's work, and Bill took him to preschool. It's not a huge hardship for anyone, but it was just frustrating. Partly I think I was just being sensitive because I wanted to be the one to drop off my birthday boy. I wanted to give him one extra birthday squeeze. You know how weird we moms can get on a birthday.

So I was pissy all day at court. Tuesday I tried to be a little more social with my fellow jurors, but by Thursday I was grumpy again. I have these anti-social tendencies at times, and I'm starting to chafe at being forced to hang out with these 14 other people (we have 12 jurors and 3 alternates) all day every day. All of them are nice people, but the longer we are together, the more our differences come out. The snowy and cold weather hasn't helped much either- we get over an hour for lunch, so when the weather is a little nicer, maybe I will go out and wander around downtown.

One day I will post some pictures of the courthouse and the downtown area- it's all very picturesque.

Wednesday court let out a little early. The judge asked if any of us would have a conflict with starting early the following morning. I nodded my head, and later explained to the court deputy that I would NEVER be able to start earlier than 9, as I have to put one child on the bus and take the other to his sitter each morning. She said that was no problem. But then the juror next to me started asking questions

"Can't their dad get them off in the morning?" No, he goes in to work at 5:30 am. Not to mention the fact that he already returns home to help out once a month when the school has a late start day.

"Can your son go to latchkey?" Now, the woman who asked this question is an aide in a special ed classroom and we have discussed that my son is autistic. What the hell is she thinking? I thought through all these possibilities a long time ago and discarded them. I am not going to change my life now because of jury duty.

I suppose people like this are trying to be helpful, but it's going to be a looong however-many-more-weeks sitting next to her, that's for sure.

The trial itself is so interesting- I can't wait to tell you about it. (If anyone is interested in the case, you can e-mail me and I will give you some suggestions of places to search for stories about the trial. But of course I can't discuss it with anyone. It's killing me!)

Friday we were scheduled to not have court (I suppose the judge needs some days to get other work done?) Because I had been so on-edge all week, I didn't plan to go into the office, but rather to get some things done at home. A "mental health day", if you will.

Except we had snow and freezing rain and ended up having a snow day. A mental health day is not as effective when all one's children are home with one.

It actually turned out fine- both boys played out in the snow with me for awhile, which is really big for Henry. He is usually quite averse to, well, doing anything outside, but especially in the cold and snow. We also ran a few errands and spent some of Thomas's birthday money.

I wanted to share a couple more pictures from his party. Here are all the kids getting warmed up:

And here is something awesome- Henry doing a "bear walk". You would not have seen this strength and coordination in this boy a year ago!

Henry did have some anxiety about the party. He spent the morning saying he didn't want to go to the party, he didn't like parties, etc. Then, once people started arriving, he got quite excited and kept repeating things like "it is Tommy's birthday! We are having a party! The party is starting!"

He played along and did gymnastics for maybe half an hour. Then he started saying he didn't want to, that he wanted to "help Tommy open his presents", and started getting really anxious about the present-opening. I think Bill missed a lot of the singing, cake, and presents, because he was doing stuff like this:
Then, once everyone was leaving, Henry started asking to "do more gymnastics". But our time was up.

I made a new friend this week, and I hope you'll check out her blog: Rooster Calls. Her son is 3 and she suspects he is on the autism spectrum, but doesn't have a diagnosis yet. She has been reading some blogs, looking for reassurance/guidance/support and stumbled across mine.

I've been thinking about what I convey, as the parent of an 8-year-old boy with autism, to some of the newbies in our community. I hope I don't seem to really know what I'm doing, because that's definitely not the case. But I can say that, with the birthday party being a good example, our family has learned how to cope with Henry's differences. And as he has grown he has become better able to express his needs and wants in a more appropriate, if still atypical, manner. If this party had happened when Henry were 3, or even 5, he probably would have screamed the entire time. We wouldn't have had a party. If it were someone else's party, we would have left early.

So we are all figuring it out together. It gets easier. And we're all happy to lend a hand to someone else, knowing that's one more hand to pull us up when we need it too.

some random observations and a question

(That's right- another post already. If you haven't been here for a few days, scroll down to see a video of and post about Henry.)

Today I just wanted to share a few random things-

-Thank the maker that Lost is back on!!!! It may sound quite pitiful to many of you who have more exciting social lives, but Lost night is like a date for Bill and me: some time set aside to do something together that doesn't involve kids or work or money or cleaning and provokes our brains a little bit. I thought last night's show was AWESOME- (but that could just be because there has been no new television to view for months.) New questions, new creepy characters, new allegiances, new leaps forward in time... yippee!

-Did you know that a venti hot tea at Starbucks costs the same amount as a grande? No kidding. I know most of you are coffee drinkers, as I usually am, but this week for some reason coffee has sounded unappealing. I've been ordering a white tea (supposed to be good for you for some reason) with some skim milk, and today I upgraded to a venti for the same price. February is going to be a good month, I'll tell ya.

-To those of you who are runners: what brand of shoe do you wear? I've been wearing Nikes, but they seem to wear out so quickly. I got my most recent pair in October. I run/walk maybe 7 miles/week maximum, have taken weeks off here and there, but I seem to be getting shin splints already. Anyone have a shoe that they recommend?

a couple things about me and some updates

Well hell, I've been kind of half-thinking of this "8 things" thing for a few weeks now and it's time to just let it go. I am going to write as many things as I can think of, and that will be that. This would be easier if I didn't include so much trivia about myself in my regular posts (I'm afraid of escalators, I stay up all night watching Lost...)

So.

1. I have a tattoo. Working with college students as I do, I know that tattoos are quite commonplace now. (I'd say that 50% of the student employees in our office have tattoos- many have a big one across their lower backs.)

But when I got mine, back in 1990, the summer before I turned 21, it was still a somewhat unusual thing to do. (That sounds kind of like a lame plea to be considered a rebel!)
A girlfriend and I cooked up this idea and didn't tell anyone. She has the same string of flowers running up her ankle- her flower petals are blue and mine are yellow.

That same summer this friend and I took a road trip to Ocean City, MD. We stayed in a teeny tiny house for a week with some other friends who were working there for the summer. We met surfer guys with dreadlocks and worked on our tans (probably the only time I actually got a tan). I was reading No One Here Gets Out Alive, about Jim Morrison, and we listened to a lot of Janis Joplin in the car. I guess you could say it was kind of a flower child summer for us- 25 years too late.

Funny how many details I remember about that summer- I think I knew at the time that it was kind of the last summer I would have free. When I got back to school in the fall I got a parttime job (at a daycare center) and worked and went to school in the following summers.

I bet I haven't seen my tattoo friend since our 10-year high school reunion (9 years ago)! We exchange Christmas cards and the occasional e-mail. But hopefully she still smiles when she stops to think about her tattoo. (Or maybe she has had it removed!!! I'll have to ask her!)

2. I played the violin from elementary school through, I think, 10th grade? I stopped playing at some point during high school because orchestra class conflicted with newspaper or yearbook class, and I cared more about those. Like many things in my life, I look back and wish I would have put more effort into the violin- I hardly ever practiced. But I do feel that it gave me an appreciation for classical music that I would not have gained otherwise.

During Bill's end-of-season basketball pizza party this year, the boys and I explored the school a bit (not the same elementary school Henry attends). We discovered that the stage was set up for an orchestra or band performance- with chairs and music stands. I described to the boys what that's like: you get dressed up and your mom and dad are out in the audience waiting to see you. You sit down with your instrument, and get your music all ready. Then these curtains open up and you start playing music! For everyone to hear!
They both seemed fascinated- especially Henry. So I hope that he will learn to play a musical instrument someday.

3. I was a precocious reader in elementary school and read Gone With the Wind in 6th grade. A friend had read it first and then loaned it to me. We went on to watch the movie and collect some memorabilia. I remember my 6th grade teacher saying "maybe you'll want to read it again when you're older. You might get more out of it."
Now that I'm an adult and read children's literature (our friend with the lightning-bolt scar) I guess I've come full circle.
So, there- 3 tidbits about me.
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I wanted to update about Henry's gymnastics class, with some photos:
There he is, right in front of the instructor, doing just what she is doing.

Here, he is ready to swing out over the "pit" of foam blocks. The other kids hold on and swing back and forth before dropping. Henry does not grip the trapeze at all- once he dropped straight down onto the floor.

Walking backwards on the low balance beam.

I have to update, also, on the other boys in the class. They had all improved so much in 2 weeks (we missed a week because of vacation.) I mentioned that to the one boy's aide, and she replied that he usually has an extra-hard time when something is new, which makes perfect sense.

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Tommy said something cute on vacation: he was in my room with me while I was getting dressed. I opened my drawer and started shuffling through my shirts. "Wear that one," he said, indicating a particular, melon-colored striped polo shirt from American Eagle (hand-me-down from my teenager).

"OK," I said "I'll wear this one."

"Good," he replied "you look very handsome in that shirt."

Do you think that kid hears a lot of compliments?!

walk on

This always happens. I wait too long to post about one subject, and then another is running up behind it, trying to crowd it out of the way. Sometimes I intend to write one post and put off the other for another day, but that never happens. It usually works better for me to just spout out about all of it, all at once.

So, the horseback riding. We are off to a spectacular start! Henry was so excited when we got to the farm (after mapquest sent us on a delaying detour) that he unbuckled his own seat belt and jumped out of his seat. I've never seen him do that before. He raced/danced around from one fenced area to the next, looking at all the horses.

Ms. Pam was conducting a class with three nine-year-old girls (not a therapeutic class, just a regular riding class). She had each girl introduce herself and her horse to Henry. Then Pam found Henry a helmet, helped him up onto the horse, and led him around the yard. Actually, one of the young girls (named Katie) led the horse, and Pam walked alongside, with her hand on Henry's back. My *&@% camera batteries were dead, but I was at least able to snap a few with my phone.

The horse's name was "T", and Pam told Henry to say "walk on T" to make T go. Henry shouted it with gusto! Then they practiced saying "whoa". After a few times, Katie said, "Ms. Pam, I'm not even making T stop!" The horse was really responding to Henry.

He was only on the horse for maybe 10 minutes, then Katie showed Henry all around the farm. She told him the names of all the other horses, and what kinds of horses they were. It was so cute to see these girls who obviously LOVE horses.

As Pam was gathering some information for me, and trying to schedule our first real lesson, Henry suddenly said "I'm ready to go home." We had been there about 1/2 an hour, and I think all the excitement was suddenly too much for him.

As I relayed this story to a friend, she pointed out that Henry telling me "I'm ready to go home" is a vast improvement over what his behavior might have been a few years ago: screaming, kicking, pinching. These all probably would have been directed at me, at Ms. Pam, even at his new little riding friends. As it was, he tried to hold it together until we could leave. I was just about proud enough to burst throughout this evening!

Unfortunately, we did need to make one more stop after that- the riding store was right down the street, and I wanted to get his helmet then so we would have it for the next lesson. The service was friendly, but slow (it's different out there in the country, I guess :-) and Henry was definitely ready to go home by then. He started saying things like "I don't want this helmet. I don't want to ride a horse. I don't like riding horses. This helmet is not the right size!"

I was so wishing that the salesperson would just ignore him, but instead she seemed quite concerned. "You don't like this helmet? Do you want a different color? Well, your mom just wants to keep you safe. Oh, you have to wear a helmet to be safe."

I was about ready to scream "my son has autism and he's overstimulated by the excitement of all this- just give me the helmet already and let us get out of here!"

It's been awhile since I've felt that way. I somewhat wanted to convey to this woman that my son was autistic, but felt a little awkward to say so right in front of Henry. How have some of you dealt with this kind of situation?
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This week Henry is going to the sitter (L) with Tommy, and then next week the Easter Seals summer program starts. L and I were talking about the week's activities, and I decided I should take Henry to their neighborhood pool ahead of time, so he would know what to expect. It's actually a really nice pool with a huge shallow end and with steps leading into it. But I know Henry, and I know that he will resist doing anything new. (I mean, except riding a horse!)

So I took the boys to the pool on Friday. As I suspected, Henry started repeating "I will just watch. I will not get in the pool." He'll say something like that even as he's walking right toward the steps. But most adults (as I would want them to) will listen to his words and say "OK, you don't have to get in."

I took both boys' hands and walked right in to the pool. Henry started bobbing and splashing and grinning and said "It feels great. I love it!"

Just when I was feeling like champion mother of the month for figuring him out, I looked around. No one else was in the pool. No one. Then I noticed some kids around the edge of the pool giving us dirty looks.

It was adult swim. I had to tell both my sons to get out of the pool again.

Just when I think I'm one step ahead of a situation, I'm actually two steps behind.
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Kate has been working a TON at her new job. Yesterday she worked 11-4 and we decided to walk up to the restaurant for lunch. Henry and Tommy both complained, whined and argued the WHOLE WAY. It can be so discouraging and disappointing to try to have a normal Sunday afternoon family outing and have it nearly ruined by that kind of behavior. Obviously I can't blame it all on autism, because Tommy was doing just as much whining and arguing. But, he is 3. And he is easier to distract from his moods. But when Henry's in a "mood" too, they just egg one another on.

I tried asking Henry if he was anxious because we were going somewhere new. But that excuse doesn't really make sense to me because, while this restaurant was a new place to us, it is on the same street as the library and Starbucks- and you know those places are very familiar. Henry ended up losing his computer privileges for the rest of the day because of how he acted on our walk.

happy stuff and weird stuff

Tomatoes are one of Henry's favorite foods. So earlier this summer I thought it would be fun to plant our own, and maybe discover something to make Henry enjoy going outside a little more. We started small with our vegetable garden: just 2 cherry tomato plants in plastic pots.

(In our early days together, Bill and I naively planted a vegetable garden that quickly got out of control. Although he maintains a beautiful yard full of flowers and plants, we have stayed away from vegetables ever since.)

Here is Henry, picking a few tomatoes to enjoy with his dinner:



The first time I told him the tomatoes were ready and he could pick one, he said "I need some help please." That is almost always his response, before even trying something. I had to talk him into trying it himself, and then of course the tomato just easily fell right off the vine into his hand. He was so excited.

See the papers in his hand? Those are pages he printed off the Disney website. We could build an addition to our home with those things, there are so many lying around.
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Thomas is doing great with his potty training! I was totally lazy over the weekend, and didn't even try it. But when I woke him up Monday morning, I sat him on the potty, put him in underpants, and told him that if he used the potty all week, I would take him to the store and he could pick out a toy.
He went on to pee on the dining room chair while eating his breakfast. But after that, he had a great day at L's house, with NO ACCIDENTS! I was so excited and proud that evening that I took him to Target and bought him a toy! Yes, completely defeating the purpose of the bribe. I don't care. Henry didn't use the potty 'til age 4, so I am just beside myself at the thought that we might be done with diapers forever at age 2 1/2!
Thomas even used the potty at Target after our shopping. The toy he picked out was a Power Rangers sword (made out of foam), with a scabbard to clip on to his pants (or underpants, as the case may be):



Have you seen Chicken Little? It is a favorite at our house, and we especially love the music. I play it in the mornings to wake the boys up. Patti LaBelle and Joss Stone get things started, and by the time the Barenaked Ladies come on, we are all dancing and singing. Isn't it great when a kids' movie can keep the adults entertained as well, viewing after viewing? This soundtrack even has Henry liking REM (one song at least, maybe I can turn him on to some others), and you would melt into a puddle if you heard Henry singing along to the Five for Fighting song. And then he quotes Chicken Little from that scene in the movie: "c'mon- all I need is a chance!"
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I told mom-nos that I post about plenty of my own weirdness on this site every day. But I did think of a couple additional random weird things about me:
- I never finish a cup of coffee. I love coffee, but must just drink too slowly. A size small (or tall) is too small for me- I always order a medium (or grande). But then I never, ever, finish it. Sometimes I even re-heat it and drink some more, but there is just always a bit left in the bottom of the cup.
- I am compulsive about the laundry. We tried having the teenager do her own laundry to avoid some stress, but I couldn't handle it. I have to sort it, examine it, re-wash it if it is still smelly or stain treat it and soak it if it is stained. This takes an inordinate amount of my time, time that could be better spent cleaning other areas of my house! (I am not nearly compulsive enough about other chores.)
- I have several scars on my arm from around age 5 or 6. I was standing outside the front storm door, my toddler brother was standing inside, and we were both banging on the glass. My left arm went through the window, leaving several long cuts. What a nightmare for my mom- can you imagine??!!
The thing about these scars is, I bet people notice them and wonder if I've tried to slit my wrists?! My co-workers and other acquaintances might be imagining all kinds of drama in my past, when really, it's just evidence of playing with my little brother.
That's all the weirdness for now- I'm sure there will be more to come.

emotional rescue (another song on dad's MP3)

I just finished a book that I can't get out of my head: The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (one of your suggestions for my vacation reading). I started the book on vacation, then lost interest partway through, then picked it up again over the weekend and finished it. It's a good book, with a clever premise, but there are some things I wish the author would have explored more- I wanted to know some more about the characters, and I guess I just like everything tied up in a neat little bow at the end.

The thing is, it wasn't my favorite book ever, but yet I still keep thinking about it. Maybe this is why I don't read more books- I get obsessive about them. Why can't I just read a good book in a casual way? It's like I have to get totally immersed in it- to the point where I'm bawling at the end when a certain thing happens that we already knew was going to happen.

(I could tell this thing was going to happen about halfway through, and that's part of why I stopped reading for a little while. It's kind of like when we watched rented Titanic years ago- I got mad halfway through and went to bed: "why am I even caring about these characters? We know the ship is going to sink and they're all going to die anyway!")

I was equally perseverative after reading the Harry Potter books. I started surfing all those goofy Harry Potter sites, and reading all the essays that the HP geeks post on their theories. Get a life, Gretchen. Finish the book, put it on your shelf, and move on!

Sometimes I wonder if I have an over-active emotion gene, which causes me to invest myself a little too much? Kristin wrote awhile back about being "too sensitive." I commented then that "I cry every time there's a baptism at church. I'd call that sensitive. Or 'in touch with my emotions'. I wish I could control it better sometimes, but it's who I am."

Here's another example: my boss' wife passed away from cancer almost 3 years ago. Her illness was quick, and our small office was privy to just about every detail, every emotion, that my boss was feeling. It was pretty awful, to say the least. This past spring, he got re-married. The last time I had seen most of the wedding guests had been at his first wife's funeral, and some of them had been very close friends of hers.

The wedding was lovely, but I felt completely drained by the end of the night. Bill and I talked about it the next day, and decided that maybe this event was especially emotionally draining for me, because I was thinking about so much other stuff: his first wife, her funeral, how her friends must be feeling, how I would be feeling if it were me, what my husband would do if I were to die... ugh. It was like I couldn't shift gears- the last time I saw these people was at a horribly sad event. Now, we're at a terrifically happy event! Screeech! I wish I could just turn my emotions down a click for awhile and enjoy the party.

Last week one of the DJs on the sunshine-y morning radio program had a baby. As I listened to the other DJs talk to her on the phone, I suddenly felt my lip start to quiver. "What the hell?!" I thought. People have babies EVERY DAY. Why does someone talking about having a baby (albeit at the same hospital where I had my sons) make me cry???

But, as she was talking, I think I was subconsciously picturing myself in that hospital bed, holding a tiny, wiggly, squeaky baby, feeling exhilarated and frightened and proud and stunned all at the same time.

I don't want to turn off my emotions- they are what make me feel alive, and make me appreciate all the beauty in my life. I just don't want to be a slave to them!

anyone have time for some free psychotherapy?

I don't really like the 4th of July. Not 'cause I'm anti-American, or anything like that. It just comes up every year, and we make plans of things to do, and then once it gets here I'm like, "oh yeah, I never like this holiday."

So this year (the blogging has made me more introspective) I'm trying to figure out WHY. Let me give you a little background:

My family never made a big deal out of the 4th. Sometimes we went to see fireworks, but it wasn't a big thing we looked forward to all year or anything. My dad is a Viet Nam vet (air force), which you'd think might make us a big "rah rah 4th of July" kind of family. But dad didn't enjoy the noise and the crowds of those kinds of events. Most of us didn't, to be honest. Mom was often fighting a losing battle to be social (see my previous post, family matters, below).

In contrast, Bill's family was always very social. His mom was part of a bridge group and a tennis group, his dad had a poker group. They had standing dates with other families on the 4th, the day after Christmas, etc.

In general, summer's not really my favorite season. I don't do well with the sun or the heat- makes me really irritable. And 4th parties where people are playing with fireworks make me really afraid that someone's going to get hurt.

So every year we're invited to a former neighbor's house for a cookout and to watch the city fireworks. It's never been my favorite event, but now that we have 2 young kids, one of which is autistic, it has become easy to make excuses not to go. There aren't any kid-specific activities, and it feels like we're hanging around for hours, waiting for it to get dark so we can watch the fireworks.

The city fireworks were yesterday, and the suburbs all have theirs tonight. Yesterday I suggested we not go to the party, for all the reasons stated above. Bill was fine with it, and bought some stuff to cook out at home (one of his favorite ways to relax- drink a beer, listen to music, and cook on the grill). The thing is, today it's raining, so we are going to end up doing nothing special for the 4th. I feel guilty when my anti-social tendencies force my very-social husband to miss out on stuff.

I get weird around most holidays- I want them to be SO SPECIAL for my kids that I end up freaking out, which is not so special for my kids!

Bill and I were kind of half-joking that maybe I experienced some childhood trauma on the 4th of July which has scarred me for life. I don't think that's the case, but I'm just wondering: does anyone else "get weird" around holidays?

5 things, times 4

OK, MOM. You might just be sorry you tagged me, as this list seems quite un-interesting. But here goes.

5 things in my refrigerator:
-leftover fried rice from last night
-bacon and link sausage for my little carnivore, Henry. We buy sausage weekly- the way other people buy milk and bread
-I, on the other hand, have tried to be a vegetarian off and on for the past 18 years or so. So we have three varieties of veggie burgers in the freezer
-small jug of sangria
-water bottle full of hummingbird nectar for my husband's bird feeders

5 things in my closet:
-forlorn, unused yoga mat
-Ohio University hooded sweatshirt that I've had since 1987 when I visited while in high school.
-a pair of maternity pants that I still like to wear! (They're black and stretchy and the kind that just ride under your belly, ok?)
-Several more pairs of black pants
-2 items that I think used to belong to Kate's mom. She gave them to Kate and then Kate didn't want them anymore... That's right, I have hand-me-downs from my husband's ex-wife! (She does have nice taste- a striped Tommy Hilfiger blouse and a salmon colored hooded cardigan from Ann Taylor Loft.)

My wedding dress is in a closet at my parents' house, and my new running shoes are not in the closet, but downstairs by the back door.

(I'm grasping for something interesting here. I assume this exercise is supposed to reveal something about me, and it seems that it is just exposing my thriftiness.)

5 things in my purse:
-2 packs of Extra gum, spearmint and watermelon flavors
-This honey & shea hand cream
-4 lip glosses
-#50 sunscreen
-shopping list for Target from earlier this week- guess I can throw that away...

5 things in my car:
-4 Disney books-on-tape to be returned to the library after work. (Actually, I need to renew Hercules, because they love that one.)
-stroller
-adult and kid-sized umbrellas
-Thomas' Darth Vader sunglasses (I've gotta get a picture of him wearing them. You won't believe how cute he is.)
-6 1/2 years' worth of poptart and donut crumbs, dirt, and spilled coffee, plus a little sand

my little accomplishment

I have started jogging.

Two weeks ago I went for a walk after work. The track has quarter mile markings, and something possessed me to try jogging for 1/4 mile. It was so hard! (I later realized that I had chosen an uphill quarter mile- smart.) But the next day I walked with a little more jogging mixed in. The next day a little more. This week I have been walking to the track (maybe 1/4 mile from my office) after work, jogging around the track once, which equals 1.054 miles, and then walking back to my car.

I am able to do that in about 28 or 29 minutes, and then pick Tommy up from his sitter's all before 6 pm. The only drawback is that I don't really cool down much afterwards, so I show up at L's house all sweaty and tomato-red-faced. (I am one of those people whose faces turn bright red at the slightest exertion, and then stay red for an hour.)

I have jogged (please note that I don't use the word run) 12 out of the past 14 days. I go so slowly that all the other joggers pass me. Some of the runners pass me like 3 times during my one lap around the track.

I just feel good that I have finally figured out something that works for me. I have never been an athlete. But in high school, college, and pre-son married life, I did exercise pretty regularly. Henry's birth sent that out the window. I didn't have the time in the evenings to spare anymore. I think when he was 8 months old or so, I started getting up and walking at 5 am. That plan worked for a few years- I liked having the quiet time to myself in the mornings.

But the morning thing doesn't really work anymore. And I'm finally changing my preconception that "you have to exercise for 45 minutes or it doesn't count." So now I think I've found something that I can squeeze in a half hour- make myself sweat a lot, make my muscles work a little, and not take away from work or family or any of the other things I juggle.

I don't have lofty long-term aims of running marathons, or fitting into my pre-baby clothes. (Those would be nice side affects, don't get me wrong.) Right now I just have the day-to-day challenge of keeping up with this and trying to change the way I feel about myself- getting back a little control. Wish me luck.

singing away the stress

I posted quite a while ago (on Valentine's day- I can't figure out how to do the link) about songs that make you smile. Today I heard a great one on my way to work: Ball and Chain by Social Distortion. (You can click on the link to watch a video- I didn't find a link to just hear the song.)

Bill is out of town this week. I like to think that I do everything around the house anyway, so what's the big deal if he's gone? But I guess he helps more than I realize, because yesterday was very stressful!

-Tommy isn't feeling well, and is VERY whiny. I took him to the doctor on my lunch hour, and his ears are ok, it's just a virus.

-Henry is really freaked out, (I mean, dysregulated :-) by:
a.) school ending
b.) the Easter Seals program hasn't started yet, so his big sister is watching him this week. She is really doing great with him, and they have fun together, but it's just something DIFFERENT, you know?
c.) Daddy is gone. Yesterday Henry told Kate "Daddy will be home in no time." (This is a mantra that he often repeats when someone is away at work or whatever.) Kate told him that Bill will be home Friday night. Henry replied "today is Thursday!"

-Kate had a youth group activity last night in an opposite area of town. All three of us had to drop her off and pick her up- both boys whining in my ears the entire time. By the time we got home Kate could tell that I was ready to lose it, so she helped the boys clean up their room and get ready for bed, while I sat on the couch and ate some Dairy Queen (brownie batter blizzard) and drank a glass of wine! Thanks, Kate.

This morning I dropped Tommy off, drove through Starbucks and splurged on a half-decaf coffee (I know, I'm a mom gone wild in my minivan), and then the Social Distortion song came on. It was just what I needed to hear, for some reason. I turned it up really loud and sat in the parking lot at work, singing along in my very loud off-key way.

Maybe I just need a moment like that to make me feel like I actually still have some freedom of choice in my life. Some independence, even if it's as meager as sitting alone and looking like a dork as I sing along.

I thought about my friend Sal, and others who ride public transportation to and from work. When is their opportunity to sing at the top of their lungs?

mother's day

I've been thinking a lot lately about this business of being a mom. It started 2 weeks ago when Henry was so sick. I realized that it's a mother's job to interpret what the pediatrician is telling her- when to believe it and when to push for something else- when to say "ok, but..." when being advised to wait another 24 or 48 hours. I'm not very good at that. I want to be able to trust my pediatrician blindly. But I've learned, in 6 1/2 years of being Henry's mother, that the doctors don't always know a whole lot more than you do once you've read the American Academy of Pediatrics book. Sometimes you have to dramatize the illness to get attention. And I don't usually go for the drama in my life.

Then at the Emergency Room I had a few hours to think about all the things we do as moms. All the tasks you don't realize that you're signing up for when you say "hey, let's have a baby." Things like catching barf in your shirt because that's easier to clean up than the carpet. Things like holding your child down so doctors can examine him. Things like forcing your 6-year-old to drink out of a sippy cup like it's a bottle because he's so sick.

At a gathering at our house last weekend, a friend said to me "why doesn't anyone tell you how much motherhood sucks?" I kind of laughed her comment off, saying "oh yeah, if anyone told us how hard it was, no one would ever have children!" But, without going into this woman's personal situation, I believe that she really meant what she said: she thinks motherhood sucks. (Forget for a moment that I hate that word.) It really upsets me to know that anyone would feel this way. God knows that I am far from being an exemplary mother (I just put my boys to bed without a bedtime story or brushing their teeth so that I could get back on the computer) but I love being a mother. Every single minute of it. Even on my worst day or my kids' worst days I would never say that motherhood stinks (that is a word that I prefer to sucks.) Even a day spent in the Emergency Room is a day spent doing the most important job there is: helping a small person grow into the best big person he can be.

I can also say, after the past 2 weeks, that I tip my hat to all stay-at-home moms. It was never in the cards for us, financially, for either Bill or I to stay home. But after this week, I wonder if I could even handle it? I feel like I started 10 different projects (I have a lot of energy in the mornings) but didn't finish any. The TV was on all day long, and I ate like a pig (we had a lot of leftovers from Kate's birthday/confirmation bash last weekend.) The situation was a little unusual because Henry was sick and needed to rest- I suppose I would have done more active stuff outside if that hadn't been the case. But I commend all you moms who are with your kids all day long and manage to get so much done.

Today was a good day. We visited my parents in Dayton (about an hour and a half away). My brother was there visiting from Washington, DC. My mom, brother and I went to the Princess Diana exhibit at the Dayton Art Institute. I have been a Diana-phile since the royal wedding in 1981. I was 11 then and highly susceptible to the whole fairy tale thing. I got up at 4 am or something to watch the wedding and then went on to collect coffee table books about Diana and her kids. The year she died (1997) was the same year I got married, and I again got up at 4 am to watch her funeral. I sat on the couch under a blanket and sobbed. I know that's unbelievably corny. But I just couldn't bear the sad reality of her life, compared to the fairy tale that we all thought we were watching back in 1981. At the same time, I realized how wonderful my every-day normal person life was, compared to her life of palaces and designer clothes.

So I made mom and Christian go to this exhibit today and it was kind of a disappointment. We realized afterwards that the exhibit was put on by her family (the Spencers). So they were only able to show items from her childhood and then from her death (like hundreds of condolence books that were signed by people all over the world). The highlight for me was her wedding gown. But you walked out of that exhibit room and directly into one about her funeral. Nothing about her life in between. I guess that stuff is all owned by the royal family. There were very few photos of her sons. And my brother pointed out the irony of visiting a show about Diana on Mother's Day: her kids don't have their mother anymore.

Well, it's time to do another mommy job: wash Thomas' sheets. He is sleeping in our bed right now, because last night I found him asleep with his pjs unzipped, his diaper undone, and his bed full of pee. Why?

time to blog again

It's been a busy week- at work and at home, and it's been awhile since I posted. But I feel it bubbling out of me as I try to catch up on my blog reading.

I got all choked up reading squaregirl's post today- the part about acceptance: "Acceptance is key to growth." And I read something very similar from Oliver's mom today: "I find that what many (including myself) would see as progress on his part, is directly tied to progress of my own!"

I don't know if I'm articulating this very well, but it all seems tied in to what I realized last week about Henry's teachers. Yes, Henry is doing much better this year. But I don't think so much of that is that Henry has changed and gotten "better." I think he is now with teachers who respond to his abilities and who make him feel accepted. And he is thriving. And as the rest of us in his family understand him better, we are all thriving.

Yesterday Thomas and I picked Henry up at school. (Usually he gets a ride home from the school transportation service.) It is always nice to get to visit with his teachers (and it was nice to hear them tell me how cute Tommy is!) But even better was that Ms. H's supervisor was there. She went on about how well Henry was doing, and about how much they LOVE him. And about how smart he is--Henry's report card came home this week, and says that he can read 25 words!!!! I just have to pinch myself...

Let's see, what else is new?

-Well, gymnastics class for Henry seems to have been a failed experiment. I didn't take him on Friday, Bill did. Class was supposed to run from 5-5:55. But when Thomas and I got home around 5:45, Bill and Henry were arriving home also. So they bailed out of gymnastics early. Bill said that Henry kept saying "I'm too big to do that!" (We think he may have meant "not big enough.") Bill said that it was frustrating because the instructor would have the kids do something that Henry does all the time at home (like lay upside-down across a tube), and Henry would (OK, I know this isn't a PC term, but) freak out. So I'm kind of inclined to just cancel this class. Henry gets lots of physical activity at school (physical therapy and adaptive phys. ed., plus just playing on the playground, which he seems to enjoy more and more) and he does have swimming lessons once a week also.

-From the "mommy's perseverations" files:

I don't watch much tv. When the people at work talk about American Idol, I just hang my head in shame because I've never watched an episode! I'm not against tv at all- it's just that I'm too busy in the evenings to watch, and then I fall asleep in bed with one of the boys, and then I just stagger in to my own bed. Even when I do catch a program, I'm not likely to catch it again the following week, so I lose track of it.

But the past couple of weeks I have watched Lost. And gotten hooked. Last weekend we rented DVDs of the first season, and Bill and I stayed up Saturday night until about 2:30 am watching those old episodes. Are we cool or are we geeks? Never mind, I don't want to know the answer.

We still have many episodes to watch and it's about as close to a "date" as we are going to get, so I guess we will enjoy our evenings together watching Lost after the kids go to sleep.

-This will never turn into a "preachy" blog, but...

We did something cool in church this Sunday: Instead of an official sermon, the rector led us in some "contemplative prayer." He had us all sit quietly with our feet flat on the floor, hands on our thighs, palms-up, eyes closed. The really interesting thing to me was how similar it all was to the meditative time at the end of yoga class. Except this was better to me because we were sitting up in wooden pews, rather than laying on the floor. It was easier for me to keep track of my thoughts and keep them focused on prayer, rather than drifting off to sleep, as I often feared would happen in yoga class.

Even though I was up so late the night before, watching Lost, I felt very alert the whole time and it was so nice to have quiet time to gather my thoughts. And most of my prayer time was spent being thankful. Sometimes I am dumbfounded by how good my life is. (And I'd better knock on wood as I type that!) Do most of us realize how lucky we are? If the "worst" thing in my life is a child with a disability, who is happy and healthy and loving and loved? I need to spend more time giving attention to being thankful.

And now, for something completely different

(I intend to clarify some points on the last post, but need to get the psychologist's report out of my files. So, until then...)

Kristin, I haven't seen you post much about ice cream lately. This week I found a new treat that I love: Klondike strawberry cheesecake flavor bars. Mmmm. They have chunks of graham cracker crust stuff mixed in. Also, a friend in Toledo, Ohio reports that her favorite flavor of ice cream is
Toft's yellow Cake Batter. I don't think we have this brand around here. Do you have it up in Michigan? Anyone else? What's your favorite ice cream?

I've actually been trying to do the slim-fast thing lately. But also eating Klondikes at night for dessert. My husband assures me that there's nothing wrong with that. (As if I needed one more reason to love him.)

Henry had fun for the first few days at L's house, but we think this "inclusion" is getting to be a little too much for him. Today and yesterday he said he didn't want to go. A couple boys like to play a Super Mario video game, and he doesn't like that for some reason- I think it has scary parts and scary music. Of course he can just leave the room if they are playing, but the bad connotation of the music seems to stay with him and trouble him.

So I may try to take tomorrow off and have a mommy/Henry day for the last day of his spring break. I thought we could go to a dollar movie or... I'm not sure what else.

the dream

I've only had 2 jobs since college. The first started as an internship and turned into a real full-time job with benefits. I loved all the people I worked with and thought it might turn into an interesting career. My first and second bosses liked me. But the third boss... she hated me. I don't want to re-hash 7-year-old history, but... (just a little bit, ok?) I will concede that I had developed some bad work habits- I talked a lot (I told you that I loved all my coworkers) and didn't see a lot of urgency in any of my work. This new boss, however, spent a lot of time instant messaging with her daughter and other friends. I know this because I could hear the beeps coming from her cubicle- why didn't she turn the sound down? And we spent one (supposed to be working) afternoon driving around town trying to find her an apartment. So she wasn't exactly the picture of a model employee herself. Anyway, after working together for about a year, maybe a year and a half, she asked me to find another job.

I was totally devastated. I was 29 years old and had worked at that job for 7 years total. I had no idea what I would do next. Most of all, I was used to everyone LIKING me, and thinking that I was pretty smart and a good person to have around. (Looking back, I see that I was naive- I can think of other folks in that office who probably didn't think I was Most Valuable Employee.) But anyway, I felt pretty worthless. I took it totally as a value of my personal worth. Silly.

Oh, and I found out I was pregnant with Henry the same week that I got fired. True story.

It goes without saying that I ended up finding a new job that was superior in every way, and have been blissfully happy with it ever since. I've never looked back. And I'm a stronger person and a better worker because of that experience.

But last night I had the dream again. I have it a few times a year. I dream that I have been offered a job at the old office, and have accepted. I show up for work the first day and kind of think "why did I take this job? Why did I want to come back here?" I don't know anyone there anymore- and that's true-to-life. The entire staff has turned over since I was there, except for one good friend with whom I keep in touch. (The boss who fired me has been through like 4 jobs since then. But I'm not bitter.)

These dreams just go on and on and are so vivid. They're not bad dreams at all- nothing unpleasant about them. It's just like I'm walking around from office to office, moving stuff into my desk, getting to know the new people I'm working with, etc. Mundane. But when I wake up I have this irritated feeling: "why did I waste a whole night dreaming about that stupid old office?"

Why do you think I have this dream? Am I trying to resolve something? Trying to make right a bad memory? I mean, I'm pretty damn lucky if losing that job has been the biggest trauma in my life, and my subconscious is trying to reconcile it!

selfish post

March Madness is Bill's favorite holiday. Superior even to Christmas, I think. This year he took today off work and planned to eat chicken wings and watch basketball all day. I requested the day off too. Although I'm not so much into the basketball, I thought it would be really nice to have a Friday off together, sitting on the couch. I could read a magazine or something, and maybe have an uninterrupted conversation with my husband. (Although probably not unless it involved the bracket.)

Then we got this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for tickets to the tournament games in Dayton (about 1.5 hours away). At first I foolishly thought that he and I could go to the games together. But then reality set in:

A. Someone needs to meet Henry after school at 3. Although we could make arrangements for someone else to do that, there is the more important fact:

B. Kate and Bill would have a lot more fun together at this event than Bill and I would.

So father and daughter are having a little adventure today, while I just went in to work in the morning and shuttled my little boys around in the afternoon.

See, here's the selfish part. Even though I know this was the right way for things to work out, I am a little jealous/pouty/miffed that my lame plan for a day on the couch was nixed, in favor of a totally awesome day of watching 4 basketball games (including favorites OSU and UNC) for Bill and Kate. Kind of like "why do they get to have all the fun?"

And then I feel even worse when I think "well, this is a really special interest they share. If a really rare opportunity came along for something special I enjoy, I would get to do that." And then I start to wonder what that special thing might be, and then I get even more bummed out when I realize that I have no hobbies or interests. Some women are into scrapbooking, and might take a weekend scrapbooking getaway, for example. Or a golf vacation with girlfriends. Or a hiking trip, or some other crazy athletic thing...

I did get to talk to my brother in Sydney tonight (which was a special opportunity, and I'm glad I didn't miss it- see, I'm seeing the silver lining already). We talked about this issue and I realized that the one special thing I do, just for me, is keeping this blog and reading my ever-growing circle of friend blogs.

It's kind of a weird, solitary thing I do here in the basement. But maybe that's the most I can hope for at this point in my life: waiting 'til the kids are asleep and then sitting down in the cold basement "talking" to my cyber-friends.

So, thanks for being there guys. Until we can organize a yearly convention to spend a weekend together, this is my little getaway.

(I sure hope I don't sound like as much of a pitiful loser as I feel!)