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.

Ouch.

If we've spent any real time together, you likely know that I have had to endure extreme dental work over the years an, ahem, dislike the dentist. I love my dentist, but hate the dentist in the abstract. My teeth are sensitive and a mess, and all the stuff to fix them hurts and is expensive. And it stresses me out.

Recently, I had my first actual toothache. I couldn't shake it. I had to go to the dentist here, not in Vero Beach where I generally see my good lady-dentist who I adore. After Xrays and cleaning and repairs, I still have a toothache and might need a root canal. Awesome. I'm off to see this Gainesville fellow this afternoon, hoping there is some way to make things feel better until I can get myself down south, where I like to open my mouth a tiny bit more. (She gives me Halcion also. This helps.)

Basically, I am complaining because I am stressed out and annoyed at my teeth, and wanting everyone to feel bad for me and bring me treats. Got it? Mwah.

Friday afternoon

Friday afternoon
Originally uploaded by Hamstocks

We were supposed to be running errands. I think Henry had asked me a question about something literally one moment before I took this. There was no rousing him. No grocery store. No Target. Just a drive home.

Henry has pretty well ditched naptime, which is fine. He sleeps at night well, and generally can make it through dinner without a complete meltdown. OK, occasionally he can, but that has more to do with other factors.

I miss the days of coordinated naps. I long for that hour when both boys are sleeping and I get to just be still. Or do the dishes, or something. Now Toby sleeps before Henry gets home from school, and when Henry passes out in the late afternoon, Toby is far from sleep. It keeps us a bit tethered to the house, since you can't run in someplace and leave a kid in the car. Thank goodness for drive through. Mama needs a Diet Coke now and again!

So that's all. Not anything terribly substantial today, just a little blurb about the trials of two who do not coordinate sleep. I'm trying to get my brain back, and find some time to put thoughts down in the computer. Again, with the non-coordinated naps, fining that time is a little bit of a challenge. Keep checking, I promise it will improve.

Mama's got a new bike (in theory)

This is the winner
Originally uploaded by Bret, Virginia, Henry, and Toby

After hemming and hawing and calling around all over the state of Florida to see if anyone, anywhere, had something in stock from the 2010 model year, I had to order a bike. When one orders a bike and knows that the wait will be a few months, that extra $100 for a nicer ride doesn't feel so bad - I mean, if I have to wait, I should get precisely what I want, no?

So here it is, the winner. It's all ordered and should be on it's way to me just as soon as it can be... sometime this winter. I am hoping sooner rather than later as the old Fuji hybrid I pulled out of storage and had fixed up just enough to ride is just awful. Bret notes that this will make the fabulous new bike all the more luxurious when it arrives, but then he is riding a speedy road bike while I am stuck on a clunker puling 100 pounds of kid and trailer. Hmmm.

We will be riding to school tomorrow morning for the first time. The boys and their watermelon helmets are beyond cute. Henry has been wearing his for two days, almost non-stop. I'm hoping the novelty wears off only enough to let him feel like wearing it when we are riding is enough, rather than trying to explain to strangers why your three year old is in a helmet in the grocery store. But I'll take it if it means he'll wear it on the road. I love their brains.

D is for DRUMS!

D is for DRUMS!
Originally uploaded by Bret, Virginia, Henry, and Toby

Henry rocks. It's just that simple.

Soliciting advice

Seriously, I am very much requesting replies here.

This summer we went strawberry and blueberry picking, and kind of went over the top. We have a TON of frozen berries, and I need suggestions for how to use them. Oh, and how exactly to do things, like make a blueberry pie using frozen berries without making soup.

For the record, I did wash all berries before freezing, and the strawberries are cut into quarters and cored (or whatever you call getting out the stem and white bit in the middle). I did NOT lay all berries out on a sheet and freeze and THEN bag - sue me. The blueberries are in 4 cup bags (yes, the amount for a pie, this was purposeful) and the strawberries are not really measured, mainly in gallon bags.

Bring it. I need some room in our freezer. It is not large, and this berry situation is a little nutty. At the same time, I plan to keep some for those long, lean months before the next berry season is upon us, but I want these recipes now so I can plan ahead.

Bring it.

Love.