Toby, peeking

Toby, peeking
Originally uploaded by Hamstocks

He's pretty darn cute, right? We are doing mini-potty-boot camp tomorrow, mainly because he is obsessed with the potty, underpants, and washing his hands, and has started demanding to use the potty all the time. He poos and pees appropriately, though his diapers still do very important work a lot of the time. Tomorrow is just a way to try to get him to respond to his cues better, and help him along this crazy journey he wants to be on anyway!

He's getting his first haircut next Friday, I don't know if I can handle it.

Love.

(Photo credit to Papa Bret)

Wordless Wednesday: Oh, indeed.

Sometimes There Are Moments...

One thing I have discovered during this crazy adventure of becoming a parent and all the hullaballoo that comes along with it is that I sometimes don't want to be a parent. This is not to say that I don't adore my children and that I am not head over heels in love with every teeny tiny thing they do, but I miss being able to call it in every now and again. I miss being able to stay in bed on a Saturday and read a whole book. I miss being able to, on the fly, make plans at 5:00 for a dinner date with friends that night, and have the option of dancing afterwards just be open. I miss sleeping in until the last possible moment and running around getting ready in five minutes and flying out the door - and having that be OK.

I don't miss these things all the time, but lately I have been missing them a bit more than perhaps I ought to miss them. It could be that winter makes even the most energetic among us want to hibernate (shut up, it does and you know it) or it could be that juggling all the therapy schedules with fundraising for Henry's school, my own therapy, diet, yoga, and other aspirational plans is hard. I almost always lose the "who's got the most important appointment" game, and all the snacks wreck my diet. If I had will power it would be easier, sure, but hey.

Today wasn't one of those days, though. I was surprised. I was tired and cranky in the morning, and wanted to go back to bed more than anything. But Toby is cute, and we managed to make it to the kitchen for his milk with lots of smiles and squeals, and that set us on a good course for the day. Things went pretty smoothly, all day. Henry went to school. Toby and I shopped at TWO grocery stores. He napped. I napped. We woke up at the last minute and picked up Henry. Now, in a perfect world I would have not napped, been ready for the post-school snack demands, had everything together and my gym clothes on, and I would have made it to yoga. But that didn't happen, and instead of being annoyed or stressed, I let it go. I let the boys play and watch a couple of shows while I did a few things, and then we just unplugged for a while. We tickled and laughed and played. It was fun, and I found myself genuinely enjoying spending time with my children more than I have in a while. That sounds awful, but it's really just that I have so much on my plate these days, I find it hard to let go and just BE with them. This afternoon, I did, and it was awesome.

And then, after dinner and bath time, Henry and I bundled up and walked around the front yard finding out what the big stars were. His iPad is awesome, so you point it at the sky and it tells you what you are seeing. His favorites were Jupiter and Beetlegeuse (I am sure I spelled that wrong, screw it), and he was terribly disappointed that there was no moon tonight. It was a lovely, random, brief encounter that made me remember how much I adore this kid. He can be difficult, and his challenges are very real, but he is awesome. And sweet. And smart. It was the perfect way to end a great day.

There are a million kinds of moments in parenthood; I'm hoping that this year I will be able to have a lot more of today's moments, because they are wonderful and sweet and make all the early mornings worth it. OK, maybe not ALL the early mornings, but at least two days a week.

(almost) Wordless Wednesday

Toby has been carrying around his rain boot all day. And hugging it. I just thought this was pretty cute, but apparently he stashed pretzels in there and has been snacking. Now I'm on the fence between cute and a little gross, although he's never worn the boots much, so I'm still leaning toward cute.

------

Sent from my iPhone.

http://hamstocks.blogspot.com/

http://radicalmamalaw.blogspot.com/

Adrift, for three days.

Thanks to the cleverness of my lady friends, the kindness of my husband, and the desperation of Carnival Cruise Lines to sell tickets, I am about to embark on a little, tiny jaunt to the Bahamas. Nothing fancy; we leave tonight and return Sunday morning early, and we are only docked in Nassau, which is not the most exotic or exciting place in the Bahamas, and there is a good chance of at least some rain.... BUT, I am super excited to have a few days of adult conversations that are not interrupted by requests for help with play dough or mediation over wooden food items. I'm excited for time to read, and sleep, and just be. I may work out. I may drink a little. I may buy a grass bag, who knows! I will drink lots of free iced tea, read, knit, and sleep (hopefully in the sun by the beach or the pool) and will not feel guilty for more than a moment. I'll miss my boogers, but they are home with papa, getting excellent quality boy time together, so that will be magic for them.

Off to pack, now that I am less than two hours from my departure time... Oh, when will I learn that procrastination is not the best policy? (or is it...?)

Open Letter to Myself, Ten Minutes Ago

Dear Self, ten minutes ago,

You are about to promise to make your son a periodic table that is both large and will stick on the wall, and also will be able to have each element as a card on the floor. And you are going to agree that it will be black.

Darling, this is crazy. You don't have the time to make this. You don't even quite know where to begin, and in ten minutes you will both regret this promise and remain befuddled as to how you will make good on it.

Before you speak, think about the fact that Henry has a photographic memory, and will continue to remind you about this promise at inconvenient times until you satisfy his desire for said large, playable, periodic table, and you will feel guilty until you figure this one out.

If any crafty folks out there want to help by throwing out ideas for you, I'd recommend sending them something nice as a token of appreciation. It's only fair.

Sincerely, Yourself, right now.

P.S. You are stealing this Open Letter format idea from Andi, but since you are disclosing this and giving her a shout, I don't think she will mind.

Oh, the irony.

The weather is amazing. A little chilly for some Floridians, but delicious for this one. My garden, having drunk all the amazing rain a few days back, is basking in the rising winter sun and is happy as can be. My kids are (knock wood) healthy. Stocked kitchen (I'm back on my diet, but even my diet-food coffers are stocked). Awesome yarn stash. Promising start for henry to get into ABA therapy down the street from my house, and good prospects for insurance coverage! Good prospects for finding a little daycare for toby, where he can play and hang out with someone other than me all the time (he will love charming new folks, it's his favorite). Life is good, except...

My goodness, I hate that except. I do.

I have no energy and I'm cranky as all get out. I got shingles on my eyelid, and it is so damn painful I can't even begin to adequately describe it. I look freaky, hurt, have splitting headaches and swollen glands, and fear I am about to give chicken pox to my husband. I know I just have to wait it out, but blech!! And ouch!! It makes being in the knelt and enjoying all the amazingly beautiful and wonderful things in the world quite hard for the moment, which sucks because I still see and appreciate how darn good things are and really REALLY want to just enjoy.

But I'm all cranky pants. Boo.

Wordless Wednesday: Puppies

Wordless Wednesday: Late, I know. But I'm speechless.

Open Letter to Pie

An Open Letter to Pie

Dear Pie,

You are way too easy. Play hard to get or something. It takes like five minutes to put one of y'all together, another hour of baking and cooling, and it's all over. Seriously, what the heck? It's not even as if you contain exotic ingredients that aren't sitting around my kitchen. I mean really. It helps that I'm now out of frozen blueberries from the summer, but not really because Henry loves apples, and we always have a lot of those around.

You're killing me.

Love, Virginia

Ps: why anyone would ever buy you from a store is beyond me now that I know how you like to just become in any old kitchen. Mmmmmmm, pie.

Wordless Wednesday: ...and looking at 29 tonight before the thaw begins.

(it looked like this about two weeks ago...)

Keeping santa's secrets is hard...

... But there will be much love for Henry on the 25th. In large format.

For the heck of it Friday...

I would trade a pinky toe for nice, long, and simultaneous naps by my kids today. Two hour minimum. Either foot.

------
Sent from my iPhone.

http://hamstocks.blogspot.com/
http://radicalmamalaw.blogspot.com/

Wordless Wednesday: Breakfast for Dinner

Open letter to Parenthood, the TV show

Dear Parenthood,

It creeps me out that you came along just when you did. I don't really like being so emotionally invested in anything on TV, but the aspergers storyline... It's really so close to home. And so good. And so well done. And all the related issues. Yeah.

Seriously, I hate to be that moved by tv, but you got me. Thanks. (note the complete absence of sarcasm here, I mean it.)

Love, v

Henry as photographer. Of mama.

Wordless Wednesday: Chilly nights

Open Letter to Time

An Open Letter to Time (as in the abstract concept of time, and how it applies to daily living, not the magazine about which I could care less)

I understand that you keep plugging along, relentlessly, and that my plea will go unheeded. I know that you have no soul, no feelings, and are therefore incapable of empathy.

But, nevertheless, I beg you to chill out and just pause. I need to breathe, and sleep, and just be still. For a couple of days, not minutes. Please.

The mere fact that this is what's on my mind should tell you something...

(I know that this is a lame letter. I'm too damn tired to think of anything clever. Poo.)

Hugs and kisses, V

Molars and Canines, Any Day Now...

Family Time

You can check out my little family and fun stuff over at The Hamstock Family blog. Serious cuteness.

As If We Needed More Proof that Mel Gibson Is a Creepy Guy

There is so much wrong with this man I don't even know where to begin. Sexist, violent, racist, creepy nut-job megalomaniac. And that is being kind.

As with so much of the recent right-wing insanity that has been running wild, roots in the bizarre and twisted world of the nineteenth century are being exposed.

http://www.slate.com/id/2275306/

For goodness' sake, let whoever reads this affidavit say,"that is, sir, quite an admission of guilt!" If he gets off on the basis of this claim, I'm moving to Australia.

(Oh wait, so might he! Crap.)

Sent from my iPhone

Eyes, love.

Wordless Wednesday: My world, lately

Wordless Wednesday: Henry's view of dinner at Satchel's (a small selection from the larger collection)

Open Letter Weekend

Open Letter to Certain People with "Choose Life" License Plates

Dear Certain People with Choose Life License Plates,

OK, I have some serious beef with a few of you.

First, if you have the "IM4IT" free plate on the front of your car, but can't be bothered to shell out the money for the actual plate on the back of your car, you kind of suck. The whole point is supporting adoption programs that receive the funds, right? So freeloading off the pseudo-official look of the free plate while not giving to that very cause is just lame.

Second, if you have a Choose Life license plate, and are driving around smoking cigarettes -- well, really? Come on.

Third, and most abhorrent, if you are driving around with a Choose Life plate, smoking cigarettes with CHILDREN in the car with you, you really just are beyond reason and I'm about to call DCF on you. Yes you, blue sedan with the baby and the windows up, I'm talking to you.

I'm not trying to butt into your life (even though given your position on choice it seems you have no problem with people butting into others' lives) but smoking in a closed car with your kid in the car is abhorrent. All that said, I really am NOT calling DCF, and really am staying out of your business, so stay out of mine, K?

Peace, V

Wordless Wednesday: For several reasons...

Seriously

Does anyone read this blog? Just wondering. I like it, but one never knows...

Sent from my iPhone

Open Letter to The Dryness Sensor on My Fancy Dryer

Dear Dryness Sensor,

I think we might have different definitions of "more dry," although it seems only to be an issue when whatever is drying is extremely essential to my day and time sensitive. In fact, it seems to arise every time I dry the kids' car seat covers. We are functionally trapped from doing 80% of the things we really must do in a day by the absence of even one car seat, so this business of leaving the covers very damp is just not cool.

I know the labels say line dry, but please. I don't have time for that, nor do I have time for your shenanigans. Don't try to strong arm me on this, it's machine dry or bust. We are potty training, and Toby has been known to puke in the car, so you, my fancy friend, need to get it together and be a workhorse.

I just heard you turn off early again. Damn you sensor! DRY means DRY!!

Sincerely,
Virginia, a momentarily dissatisfied consumer

Sent from my iPhone

Wordless Wednesday: Tony Attwood Workshop

Open Letter to My Good Intentions

Dear all of my good intentions,

If I were able to get you all together, and pull you from my heart and somehow transform you into reality, I would win awards. Like real, genius, serious money grants for awesomeness. Sadly, you all float around for a while, and only every now and again materialize at a time and place when I could, possibly, if I had the energy and the free hands, do something about you.

So let's make a deal, shall we?

You will hang out more. Come along and stick on my brain, at least until I can write you down for later reference.

In return, I will trade off some sleep, some rounds of solitaire on my iPhone, sitting still watching drivel on TV at night or with the boys, and make at least some of you happen. Really really.

I'll get the boys involved, and work on making all of it fun. I'll be perky, even when I really don't want to be. (OK, that last one I can promise once a week, and try for more, but being honest...)

So, good intentions, all I ask is that you don't just do little line sprints through my head when I am in the middle of changing a diaper or falling asleep. It's inconvenient when I am elbow deep in a whole chicken I'm prepping to roast, or driving. Just try to come back, it will be beneficial to everyone, promise.

Hugs and kisses! V

Sent from my iPhone

Wordless Wednesday: Weekend Country

Oh, poor Henry!

Oh, poor Henry!
Originally uploaded by Hamstocks

I know, I missed Open Letter Weekend. I'm getting on it. In the meanwhile, take a gander at the reason I am tired this morning... Henry fell out of bed and managed to bust open his cheek on the way down. Not sure exactly how it happened, but he said he hit his cheek on the bed, not the floor, and that he didn't hit his head on the floor... and that was right when it happened around 1:45am. Poor thing was up half the night, and poor mama was up with him for a goodly chunk of that. He was (and is) fine, just rattled. And I suspect he is going to end up with a black eye. Good thing my little brother had plenty of them around this age so I know they heal, and that kids get them, and that we'll look back fondly. He will look like a very tough letter "A" for Halloween!

So since this happened last night/this morning, it is no excuse for no open letter. But you are getting this for now, so forgive, please please? I'm thinking that the next one needs to be to Facebook, and I have a lot to say, so I may have to come up with something a little lighter in the meanwhile... Hmmmm.

Love and kisses, V

Wordless Wednesday: Kitchen Facelift, Phase 2 Plan

Open Letter Weekend

This open letter may not be of the usual ilk, so bear with me. It's been an exceptionally long week, and long weekend, so I'm not feeling prickly or perky or funny or any of those things that make for a good, fun open letter. I prefer that sort, but tonight you get me as I am, which is this:

And Open Letter to Parents of Neuro Typical Children, and Parents of Children without Major Medical Issues:

I understand. It's a mama law. Where one is standing feels like the clearest place in the world, even when it is difficult. One's own struggle feels like it is the most important, and one's own experience feels like it is somehow both linked to all others and somehow completely unique. I understand the reflex to compare children, to compare experience, to relate the experience that you are hearing from another parent to your own experience as a parent, or to a parent that you know, or the parent you saw on a TV show. I understand.

I beg you to stop.

As the parent of one child with Asperger's Syndrome and hyperlexia, and another who wears contacts and/or glasses due to surgeries in his first few weeks of life to remove congenital cataracts, I plead with you to stop. My struggle with their issues is my own, and I admit that I feel like it's the most important thing in the world. Their struggles (and my own) feel like they are connected to all other children's issues and also unique. Both of these things are true, but we are living a different life that you genuinely can't understand. It's OK. We are OK.

The thing is, it's been a long week. Potty training an almost four year old boy with Asperger's is damn hard. Potty training is never fun, I know. There is SO MUCH poop, why doesn't anyone ever get real about the poop? But here's the thing: even though Henry is very high functioning, it might take years to potty train him. Please, please stop telling me that "you've never seen someone wearing diapers in his dorm room!" because the reality is that there are autistic people who are not toilet trained at sixteen. There is so much neuro-typicality baggage in that one statement that I have heard countless times since Henry turned three, I can hardly unpack all of it. It's time to step back, and just let us work through this one. If your kid is potty trained, I'm so so so glad for you. Please, unless I am asking, don't tell me more.

I sometimes wonder if I am the only mama with an ASD child that feels like the weight of the world makes my connections with other parents far more difficult. I've come across some amazing blogs by mamas of ASD kids recently that have helped me cry, embrace some of the emotional weight I am carrying about, and realize that while isolated in some ways, I'm not alone. My world has shifted, but if you are a mama I love with a neuro-typical child, please understand that I love you to bits and pieces; I just have fewer pieces of myself to hand about right now. I still need you in my life, I still miss you. I'm just juggling so much with therapy and everything else that the thought of trying to explain all of this every time it comes up is, well, overwhelming.

And at the same time, I feel the weight you must when it comes to talking to me. How many times have I thought "How lucky I am to have two beautiful boys, who are doing so well, and who don't have a major medical issue that requires full time nursing care?" or "How lucky I am that my children can move on their own and feed themselves?" I shouldn't feel like my issues are the worst, because I know that they aren't. But, I am every parent. My children are the center of the universe. It's a mama law. It's OK. I understand. I do.

With love and care,
Virginia

Wordless Wednesday: Our Very Long Day

And It's not really going to let up anytime soon...

We're going to see some changes around here...

I realize that I've been terrible about updating both this blog and The Hamstock Family blog. I'm working to rectify this by giving myself some deadlines, and projects, that should function both as inspiration and as motivation.

First, I'll be instituting Wordless Wednesdays. I'm completely stealing this idea from other friends and mama bloggers (like Be Nice to Mama), but I'm stealing it because I love it. Also, I have an iPhone, and I take pictures, so this seems like a reasonable goal that everyone can enjoy.

Second, soon you will get to enjoy Open Letter Weekends. I've gotten lots of lovely feedback on my open letters here, and it's a format I enjoy. I love it for kvetching, and also for finding humor in anger or absurdity. Rather than trying to craft pithy Facebook updates or tweets on the topics I find myself mulling over every week, I'll just hold them for the weekends and send the thoughts put directly.

Over at The Hamstock Family blog, you will get more stories and photos, and I will also be pestering Papa to post as well. It will be more fun that way. I can't promise anything concrete, but I will certainly be trying.

So keep coming back. I'm working on it.