Mad Woman Takes a Pause

I am cleaning out my bookshelves and the kids' drawers trying to make room for some peace in my life, and I'm actually getting somewhere. I think I am giving away about 100 books today. I'm feeling like we need a good clean sweep of things.. of everything to keep our family headed in the right direction.

Just now I made the mistake of opening a journal from 1995. I probably should have just thrown it out without looking, but decided to read a bit instead.

Wow. I dated a lot that year, which makes sense, because it was the year before I started dating my husband. I had forgotten the drama, and the highs and lows of that young single life. It made me ever more grateful for what we have now, however hard some days are. I did a lot of dancing, at least twice a week, and a lot of falling head over heels for the wrong guys. From the looks of it, I had good friends and I worked all the time.

What was fun to find, along with poetic descriptions of rock bands and smoke-filled cafes, was a list of descriptors that I think I was putting together to use as part of a checklist for a spouse. It is interesting to see the things I valued then...not only did I find most all of them in my husband, but I actually still value those traits today.

smart	outdoorsy	humble
handy	eloquent	friendly
opinionated	kind	reserved
private	stubborn	appreciation of the arts
sense of humor	passionate	solid
ambitious	compassionate	social
strong	witty	dedicated
educated	family oriented	committed
amusing

When I made this list I had already met my future husband, and I wonder how much he influenced the list, considering how much time we spent together that year (as friends). Did I really put stubborn down as a trait to look for? Maybe I meant, not a pushover, or with conviction?


and now, back to work.

The Hat Makes the Man

I don't really like Halloween. I'm not sure when I started not to like it. Maybe it was the pressure of coming up with a great costume; jeesh, I had the kind of friends who dressed up as green m&ms and other cool things.

Maybe it's that I was raised to think that I was  destined to be hit by a car while trick-or-treating, or that by the time I got to college, it was expected that all females would dress as some sort of sexy version of normal things: sexy vampire, sexy nurse, sexy meter maid, sexy butcher, sexy Cal-trans worker...although I did the Castro thing in the late 90s, and I had fun (and yes I went as a sexy cowgirl).

and now I'm a mom, and so I do Halloween. I am anxious about it every year, that my kids won't have the right costume, that they will look back and think I didn't do enough.. it will somehow be obvious that I can't wait for October to fly by.

scary girls, scary babies

But enough of all that... we DID do Halloween this year, and not only that, but it went well from costumes to school parties to trick-or-treating.

We went to the Halloween store a few weeks ago in the search of a costume for Jake.  We've done several years of those muscle costumes where the fabric is stuffed with filler to make the kid look big and manly. So far, he's been the Hulk, and Superman and Mr. Incredible, and Spiderman and I can't remember what else. They are great, easy costumes (which end up in the dress-up box later!), but we couldn't find one we liked.

We found a lot of scary things that someone, not us, might set up around a house, but the costume selection was not all that great for tween boys unless you want to wear a mask. We didn't find anything reasonable that night, although my daughter very sweetly let me know that I my legs would look great in this costume:

I love that my daughter thinks I look like this

We carved pumpkins with Descartes' parents last Sunday, which was fun, and made me remember that I carved pumpkins with them the first year I knew them in 1995. This year the carved pumpkins didn't last until Halloween. We enjoyed, okay, I enjoyed, watching Hello Kitty slowly melt and be consumed by mold. It was less fun to clean it up, but I have a wonderful husband who took care of that.

We finally found costumes for both kids. Lucy went as Belle, and Jake went as a cowboy. Picking out Jake's costume was really very fun. Descartes, Lucy and I each picked one or two costumes we thought would work for Jake, then presented them all to him. He laughed and laughed, especially when we each tried to convince him to choose the costume we were holding. We got it down to three, then two, and he finally picked the cowboy outfit.


Both children had school parties/parades... Lucy first... my galliwompus little Belle, who could barely hold still long enough for me to brush her hair. She actually said that her head was going to pop off because she was so excited about Halloween. For trick-or-treating on Sunday night she had to put on a long sleeve tshirt under her dress. I love how Northern California kids just suck it up and wear jackets or layer to keep warm. There's no complaining like we did when I grew up...oh, all that moaning I did about how the shirt or jacket was going to ruin my costume.

The best story of Halloween may be as simple as a hat. Jake wore a hat. JAKE WORE A HAT!

He apparently wore his hat almost all day at school on Friday. Certainly he wore it the entire time Lucy and I were with him when he went from classroom to classroom collecting candy. He also wore it on Sunday trick-or-treating. This is so huge. He's also been wearing his helmet when he rides his bike at school, and all this after he wore a helmet horseback riding this summer.

I know he's getting older, that he's learning every day, gaining new skills, but I think I have just let go of some things. When we realized that Jake hated hats (and gloves) we knew that we were not going to move to any place less temperate, and I sort of stopped worrying about it, and stopped thinking about it last winter. It is exciting to be able to check that box off. We still have a long way to go before he's wearing a baseball hat to keep off the sun, or a knit cap to keep warm, but I'll take several hours of an ill-fitting cowboy hat. It's a start, and we like starts because that means at least we are on the same road.

yes, Gus has a costume on.

awake and happy the entire time!

Sunday night we went through the neighborhood with a couple of other families. Jake went in his wheelchair, for safety, our peace of mind, and the fact that he normally goes to bed around the time most kids start trick-or-treating, so we expected him to get tired. Lucy was very precious, as she asked for another piece of candy for her brother, if we couldn't easily wheel the chair to the door. Later, she just took half of whatever she had been given and put it into his bag rather than ask for more. She gets extra points for that because that girl loves candy like no one I have ever seen.

Everyone made it through the trick-or-treating..no tears, no complaining, no melt-downs...we have bags and bags of candy, and no sick stomachs. Both kids are sleeping now, (although Lucy is next to me on the couch) and I am a grateful woman who just might like Halloween a little bit more this year.

Posted By Popular Demand: Cake

It is my sister's birthday next week, so while she was visiting this weekend, in between the reveling and the beer-making, and the beer-drinking and the concert-going, I made her a cake.

A few of her favorite foods in life are mayonnaise, chocolate and apparently Bordeaux chocolates from See's Candies..that last one I actually didn't know about when I chose which cake to make her, but this cake sort of managed to hit all those sweet spots.

I remembered that I had read about a World War II era cake that used mayo instead of eggs and shortening because as two of you may recall, and a few more of you may have read.. there was rationing during the war...back when people actually had to sacrifice some of their personal luxury for the benefit of a greater good...but I digress.

Wikipedia tells us "Tires were the first item to be rationed in January 1942 after supplies of natural rubber were interrupted. Soon afterward, passenger automobiles, typewriters, sugar, gasoline, bicycles, footwear, fuel oil, coffee, stoves, meat, lard, shortening and oils, cheese, butter, margarine, processed foods (canned, bottled, and frozen), dried fruits, canned milk, firewood and coal, jams, jellies, and fruit butter were rationed by November 1943."

And since necessity breeds ingenuity, the bakers, really, the women of that generation, found new ways to make their cakes..voila... the delicate deliciousness of this cake was born.

This recipe comes from America's Best Lost Recipes: 121 Heirloom Recipes Too Good to Forget in which I have found several great recipes, for obscure and once well-loved foods like Runsas, which are also called Bierock which my family loved.

World War II Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake (all italics are my own notes)
Ingredients
Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup mayonnaise
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup water



Frosting 
(I doubled the amount of butter, brown sugar and milk, and used 1 1/2 cups of powdered sugar to make my frosting, because we always like more frosting. I think if I had used the entire amount of powdered sugar it would have been too stiff.)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons milk
1 cup confectioner's sugar

Directions

Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a 9-inch square baking pan. (Because you make this in a 9x9 pan you can actually use your counter top (toaster) oven to make this cake, thus avoiding heating up the entire kitchen!)

Whisk the flour, cocoa, baking powder and baking soda in a medium bowl.

Stir the mayonnaise, granulated sugar, and vanilla together in a large bowl until smooth. Add the water and stir until combined. Whisk in the flour mixture until incorporated.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan (you can actually let kids lick the spatula here without worry since the eggs in the mayonnaise have already been cooked! A great cake to make with little kids!) and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool completely in the pan, at least 45 minutes. (Many people leave this cake in the pan and frost it there. I flipped mine upside-down onto a serving platter before frosting it so it would look more birthday-ish and less Grandma VanZanten Poor-Man's Cake-ish..but let me tell you Grandma VanZanten's cake was AWESOME!)

*****
For the frosting, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir in the brown sugar and bring to a boil. Boil until the mixture begins to thicken, about 2 minutes, then, off the heat, carefully stir in the milk.

Return to a boil, then remove from the heat to cool until just warm, about 30 minutes.

Stir in the confectioner's sugar and spread the icing evenly over the cake. The cake can be stored at room temperature for up to 3 days. (if it lasts that long!)

Enjoy!

Jump Start

earlier this morning...

Most of you would not be surprised to know that I have a lot to say. A LOT to say, but lately I think I have so much to say that I can’t get anything out, which is extremely frustrating because my mind is getting very full.

Well, apparently it just takes a little jump-start, because I am so upset right now I am shaking. And when I am this upset, I feel the need to write.

I was just in a store, and a little boy, not even three, walked right outside and onto the street. He opened the front door and walked out onto one of the busiest corners in our downtown. I caught what was happening just as I got to the register, and watched as the very sweet cashier, who is probably not older than 20, raced outside. I knew exactly what she was doing without even seeing what she was rushing after.  I guessed it was the little boy because I had already brought him back to his mother three times in the ten minutes I had been in the store.

Twice I turned him around and said "Go back to Momma.” while nudging him in the right direction, since I could see her from where I was. And the third time I actually took him by the hand and walked him back to her. She never looked up from what she was doing when I brought him back. Kids might wander a bit down the aisle you're on, but he was so sad and looking for her, "Momma, Maaaaaaamaaaaaa?", and so short he couldn't find her in the maze of boxes and displays.

When the cashier brought the little boy through the door I thanked her profusely. She smiled and I took the little boy by the hand and marched to the back of the store to his mother. She picked him up this time, but didn't say anything to me.

Life is hard. For a lot of people, life is very hard, so I am not going to judge the woman too harshly because Lord only knows what has happened thus far in her life, but based on her smooth appearance and lack of tear-stained cheeks, and her desire to look at Christmas ornaments, I am guessing not much tragedy had befallen her this morning. Her other child was at one of the display tables with a bag of candy from the store ripped open in front of her.

I told the mom that her son had gotten outside and that the young cashier had chased after him down the street. She just looked at him and said “Why did you go outside?” and that was it...I was so surprised by her lack of concern, that I started to think maybe I was making a bigger deal out of it than I should, so I just said, “I thought you’d want to know because he is strong enough now, to open up a heavy store door and get outside by himself. Maybe that’s a new skill?” She said nothing to me, so I turned around and walked back to the cashier.

I paid for my items and realized I was very upset. I was trying to figure out all of the emotion I was having. I thanked the cashier about 60 million more times... for paying attention, for doing more than her job, for making sure that woman didn’t have anything horrible happen to her today, for saving that boy’s life, because surely with the parking garage and the giant trucks, and the busy, busy light with a turn-right-on-the-green-arrow light, and the boy's lack of safety awareness, he would have been hurt in a matter of minutes. The young lady was so gracious, just saying that she didn’t think he should be out there on his own. She told me to have a good day, and gave me my bag. My hand was shaking.

I realized I was very angry. Sweaty palms, gonna lose it, shaking, sick to my stomach, angry.

Watching my son is a full-time job at home and in public. Spraining my wrist trying to keep ahold of his arm as I try to pay someone, wearing a backpack so I have more free hands, being fearful to go certain places because I’m not sure I will be able to keep track of him…resorting to his wheelchair because I am worried I will lose him….waiting years to take both of my children out together, waiting until Lucy was capable of following directions and walking without holding hands before I ventured to do things like lunch, or the grocery store, or the movies. Jake ripped my rotator cuff dropping to the ground when he was younger, and now we are working on walking nicely and holding hands...eventually walking next to me without holding hands. It is a goal at school. It's something we are trying very, very hard to master because it's very important that he stay with me, and we have the same expectation of our typical kid, because it's important that kids stay with their parents. Right?

and this lady just let her kid, her typical, able-to-talk, able-to-hear, knows-his-own name, walks-without-aide, child walk out of the store. He just walked out of the store, and it took someone bringing him back for her to notice he was missing.

I'm not one for saying "that's not fair." because no one promises us that life will be fair, or even, or equitable, or easy, but I found myself saying it anyway. 

It's not fair. It's not fair...I try so hard every single day not to be a burden to others, to make sure my children are not causing problems for any one else but me. Jake tries so hard to keep it together in stores. We leave restaurants when either kid is having a hard time, we leave stores and abandon carts when there is a meltdown. We do not lose our children in stores. Our family works hard every time we go out, the whole time, to do the right thing, and she, she just lets her kid all the way through an entire huge store and out the door....and doesn't even say thank you when he's found alive? 

**********

I am re-reading this 7 hours later, and I still have all those feelings, but another one has crept in...that feeling I get when I realize I am not being grateful. I wish sometimes my personality would allow for just appreciating that the child was safely returned to his mother, and not feel like I have a moral imperative to change the world and the way people think, or get them to think when they are obviously not thinking.

Ten, Ten, Ten

When my brother Gerard was little, and learning to count, he and my dad would slowly count together. One to five would be drawn out and slow, six and seven even-paced, but right about eight, and certainly after nine, they would make a sudden race for ten, and together they would nearly shout "Ten! Ten! Ten!"

and that is just how I am feeling as this day rolls around, and my first child, the boy who made me a mother is ten. Ten. Ten!

It's cliche to say it all goes by too fast, and in our case I don't think it's always true. Some days, even a year can fly by, but other moments are so weighted with importance, or joy, they seem to be almost outside of space and time.

He went on his first road trip when he was three weeks old, to go to my cousin's wedding. He slept on a wing chair, wrapped up like a little burrito.

He is getting tall these days, taller than his dad was at that age I think, and though he has puppy feet, nearly too big for his body, his movements are smoother as he gains more control, and more awareness of his limbs. 

He ate an entire papaya and chicken quesadilla at the Mai Tai bar in Oahu when he was only ten months old. Later that year, the chef came out to see the baby who was eating the wasabi mashed potatoes at the Four Seasons in San Francisco.


He has a great sense of humor, and a laugh that is infectious. My favorite is when he giggles so hard that he has to take a big breath. He stands still to let his little sister tickle him, and will come over to the couch for a family tickle match.

The first time he held his own cup and took a drink, we were at an Indian food restaurant and he was more than two years old. 

He moves so quickly it's hard to believe doctors thought he'd never walk, and he loves to test adults by pretending to meander before he breaks into a full run towards any exit that has been left open.

He took his first steps across our living room while he was yelling something at us. We couldn't understand him and he was so frustrated he got distracted and walked seven steps. 


He likes to be outdoors. I think he would be happiest on 40 acres; a place with a grove of shimmering trees, and a small brook with pebbles lining its banks. His love of nature inspired our AdventureVan purchase, and his love of the AdventureVan inspired our cross country journey this summer. He is a road-trip, roadside diner, let's-just-pull-over-here-for-the-night type of kid; his flexibility amazes me.

He went to sleep-away camp for the first time the summer he was five. As we drove away and watched as he ran off smiling and laughing down a leaf strewn hill forcing his counselor to chase him. 

He's showing an interest in technology, gently touching the screens at home on devices, and using the mouse at school to get through stories he likes on the computer. I love the sibling dynamic as he tries to grab the iPad or iPod from his sister and laughs as she shrieks to keep her hold.

He got into the car by himself last week, no physical prompts at all, and when we went home he went in through the gate without holding hands, and without running away.

He is affectionate, and more and more often he leans in to show his desire to be near you. His wordless gestures teach me that my body language, my movements, the spirit I carry through my home is often more influential than my words.

He got out of bed when I passed by his room tonight. He gently touched my arm before he turned and ran back to his bed. He buried himself in the pillows laughing.

******

Happy Birthday sweet boy.

I Feel Hopeful

When I was younger, it never occurred to me that my life would be anything but better the next day. As much as I was a pragmatic young adult, choosing to work instead of take that Europe trip, taking the solid job in front of me rather than risk for anything else, somehow I was still the optimist. I always thought that if a bad thing happened, I was supposed to learn from it and move on, and never experience that kind of pain or disappointment again, because I had already learned that lesson. I didn't think you had to live through bad things more than once.

I did not fully prepare for things like financial stress, career disappointment (mine or my spouse's), or losing best friends. My heart could not fathom the disability, or dead babies we have met along the way, which perhaps is better because I think some things are just too big and too sad to prepare for. It's better to be hopeful, and encounter pain, than to wait and anticipate hurt. My heart is a little bit achy today, and not because of any particular tragedy in my own life, but in the lives around me. So instead of mourning their losses, or taking on their worries, I was thinking this morning about smells, and sights and sounds that make me feel hopeful, like the world is still filled with promise and good fortune and possibility. 

• stacks of lumber
• cooking stores with rows of pots and pans and little tiny dishes for specific things
• ribbon
• dawn
• finishing a book
• new lipstick
• the first rain on oil soaked streets, and the bright green of leaves that have just been washed for the first time all summer
• getting off a plane and having the weather be completely different from the weather I left.
• pens that work without shaking them or holding them at the correct angle
• when my husband sends me a recipe he thinks we should try
• IEPs that go well
• singing in the shower
• realizing that I am singing in the shower
• watching my daughter sing, and make up her own songs
• the smell of onions cooking on the stove in olive oil
• shoe polish
• painters tape

I need to take Lucy to school, but I think I may add to this list later

A Metaphor I'd Rather Live Without

*written Thursday night*

There is a mouse in my house.

a mouse.

in my house.

and you know what? I am SO GLAD THERE'S a MOUSE IN MY HOUSE,

because at least it's not a rat.

okay first of all, before you think I am a loon, there's really only one little mouse and it is very tiny of the field variety.

Here's the thing. I've heard that bugger trying to get into my kitchen for the last week.  We have an older house and an empty field, and apparently when they built this house they didn't really make it mouse-proof on the east side. Actually, we had a problem once before several years ago, and I sealed up all the holes, took fine mesh and stapled it across all mousie highways, but this one skinny little thing managed to get into the space under the kitchen cabinets and could not find its way out.

So I knew that that sound, whatever was behind that little wall, that creature couldn't get in to my house because it is sealed to make it into the kitchen. Over the course of the last week, each night, that sound got louder, and in my mind, the mouse grew bigger. It grew to be rat sized, it became a giant rat, then a terrifying oversized rat, and finally tonight, I was quite certain some miniature chupacabra was behind the cupboard, stalking my family, walking on the edge of the foundation, scratching the wall. The sound has haunted my sleep, made it hard to work, and occupied my mind nearly all day with me trying to figure out just what to do next to get rid of the giant beast behind the cupboard.

Well, that giant beast eeked its way somehow through the tiniest of openings, and just made a run for it down our hall and into the closet. There's a mouse in my house. a tiny little mouse.

Ha HA! It's just a little tiny mouse! Nothing to fear at all. Manageable! Quickly taken care of!
I set out two glue traps (go ahead, call PETA), and I have a broom next to me as I work, and tomorrow the mouse will be gone, and I will patch up any little holes in our defense system, and it will be taken care of.

and so.

and so that's it. There's no rat in the cupboards. There's no infestation or disaster, and it wasn't chupacabra, or a giant rat, it's a field mouse.

That's what I do to myself all the time...about everything. I build up a small, easily accomplished task, until it becomes so big that it occupies most of my active brain power, and I become immobilized  by the weight of what I need to do.

Then things pile up, physically, emotionally. The stack of mail, the unfinished writing, the clothes that the kids have outgrown, looming. And of course, there are all those things "on my list" I should do for my children, and for my husband, and maybe even for myself. They are little things mostly, which are reasonable, feasible, and within my range of abilities, like paying the car registration, and emptying Lucy's suitcase from her last little overnight, and taking the pile of shirts in my trunk to the dry cleaner.

If I could just tackle one, or three, things at a time I can take care of all those mice. And if there are too many, I should be able to ask for someone to help me without feeling like a complete loser. More importantly, I need to remember that a mouse can never turn into a rat (though there may indeed be a few rats that just start out that way.) I can manage nearly everything I encounter in our little life here, if I just address the situation, right when I should, in the moment.

ready?
answer that email | return the call | write the check | rsvp | clean it up | throw it out | donate it | repair it | tie it off | paint it| return it | bag it up | wipe it down | write it down | look it up | compare it | be grateful | reach out | stand up | lead | nail it to the wall | follow graciously | speak up | wrap it up | listen | put it away | ask | plan it | mend it | try it | polish it | fold it | put it away | make room for it | research it | read it | scrub it | make it fit | give it up | fluff it up | keep it up |

then rest

Acceptance

the kids four years ago August 2006

The Goodnight show is teaching the word "sibling" this evening.

myGirl: Oh! I can call my brother my sibling!

Daddy: Yep. You're very smart sweetheart.

'Nina' on television: Do you go to school with one of your siblings? That can be fun!

myGirl (to the television people): Nope. I do not go to the same school as my sibling.

myGirl (excitedly, to her dad): Hey, when I grow up and I have autism like Jake, we can go to the SAME SCHOOL!"

Daddy: Oh sweetheart, you aren't going to have autism when you're older.

myGirl (slightly deflated, then with building enthusiasm): Oh...well, that's okay. When I grow up, my girl will have autism, and SHE can go to the same school as Jake!"

Daddy: You mean your daughter?

myGirl: Yes, my daughter will have autism, and SHE can go to that school!

Grateful

• In 'n Out Burger opened up in our town (mixed blessing!)
• I was able to change out the DVR with no problems... a tele that cannot be paused is just not a part of my daughter's understanding of the world.
• my children are so happy at school.
• every phone call I've had in the last 24 hours has been from someone I am happy to hear from.
• we are going camping this weekend.
• the plane that crashed 300 yards from my husband in the lagoon near his office, crashed 300 yards away from him, not any closer.
• my son really wants to play on the iPod touch. I think we may have a winner here.
• both of my children are asleep, and so is my husband.. I've checked on each of them.
• the campground my hubbins chose for this weekend is a 10/10 in the California camping book.
• I have really interesting, smart friends. I can spend hours at a time talking with most any one of them, and still want more time sharing stories. 
• After 4000 miles on the road, my husband and I can't wait to get in the car again with our kids and drive across the state for some quality outdoor time.

I have a great life, really I do. And, as I sit here with Mama Mia in the background.. I am also very grateful that my precious husband can sing so much better than Pierce Brosnan.  In fact, whenever Cris Daughtry comes on the radio, Lucy asks me to turn it up so she can hear "daddy."

It will be fall.. NOW

Jake is downstairs whooping and hollering, happily. Lucy is asleep in the guest room, having convinced herself that she sleeps better there. Descartes and I have taken up our places on our respective couches, laptops in laps, remote controls within reach. The beer is cold, the night is warm and we are safely snuggled back into our fall routines.

Even though the temperature hit nearly 100F in my backyard this afternoon it could not dissuade me from making home made sugar cookies and some royal icing so Lucy and her girlfriends could cut out shapes and decorate them as part of their afternoon play date. I put a ham in the oven. I contemplated the split pea soup I would make.

Jake's birthday is a month away, which means his IEP is in a couple of weeks. Which means sign ups for the amazing respite weekend camp he goes to must be soon. Then there will be Oktoberfest and Halloween, and Thanksgiving and Christmas, and while I will miss the music in the parks, a summer staple in our town, I am looking forward to back-to-school nights, and a new year of the Special Ed PTA, and the calm that will come after the weather cools and the rain comes.

I think I like fall the best. Perhaps it's because I still anticipate a new school year as if it were my own accomplishments that will transpire, and I have always been great at starting school years. It's a sort of rebirth, tabula rasa, the blank notebooks, the sharp pencils, and all those new school clothes. [here's where I would insert a picture of me wearing an Esprit color-block sweater made of scratchy wool with green corduroy pants...a photo from 7th grade when I used nearly all of my back-to-school clothing budget on one outfit because I loved it so very much. My father, a psychologist, let me experience this fully...coming home with only one beautiful esprit bag and a few basics, like socks, underwear and white tennis shoes. Later he felt badly for me and bought me a 3/4 length butter-yellow down coat to add to my wardrobe. It should be noted here that I grew up in Orange County, where the average temperature in the winter months is never lower than about 65. I was able to wear the sweater/cords outfit one time in sunny Orange County, but did wear the set in Germany in October. It never stopped itching me.]

The kids are happy in their classes. Jake's class is mostly the same, with a few minor staff changes. He fell in love with a new aide to the class, and when I met her the other day I could guess why, with her pleasant demeanor and beautiful smile. Every time I step on the campus at WunderSkool I get a little teary-eyed. The people there are so friendly and they genuinely seem to like their jobs, and their jobs are our kids. Every day I feel like Jake is cared for and learning.We are doing some new things with "talkers", and we tried out an iPad last week. He was very interested. Tonight he broke into his sister's room to sneak the iPod Touch from her, or at least see what she was playing. He seems to be more interactive in so many ways lately. He is less frustrated, maybe because he knows we're listening and we believe in him.

Lucy was so excited about going in to Room Two that she could barely contain herself on Monday. They call it pre-k, and while there's no algebra yet she does have homework sheets. We're learning together how and when we sit down for school work. When I started to get frustrated with her "I know Mom. I KNOW." attitude I took a deep breath, and remembered to be grateful for all of her words even if she was sassy. We'll get there, but she is hard on herself, and I had to talk to her about the difference between finishing first and being (or doing)  the best. First is always better in her book, and I can tell she rushes through everything. In the three days she's been there, she has already stopped scribbling everything in, and is paying attention to whether she's supposed to write a lower-case or an upper-case letter.

I am getting back into my groove too. I walked the Stanfurd dish walk the other day, which is probably no big whoop for most of y'all, but spending 1:50 minutes in a row without my children, focused on me and my health? That hasn't happened in a very long time. We also had a very productive meeting for The Thinking Person's Guide to Autism. I'm so excited that this project is going so well. We have really collected a great bunch of information from parents and professionals and adults with autism.

**********

post script: it is now 1:18 am. Lucy is next to me on the couch, unable to sleep. We are watching "Gulah Gullah Island". Not my favorite, but I figured she shouldn't be watching "Blindness."