Truthful Tuesday - Wear Sunscreen

"If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it..."

So I went to see a plastic surgeon today.  Let me assure you that it has never once crossed my mind that I would actually be sitting in a plastic surgeon's office.  Like most women, there have been times where I have wished I could change things about my body, but I have never seriously entertained the thought of going through with any kind of procedure.  I don't like doctors or surgery, so that kind of thing is just not for me.

So when my dermatologist's office called and said that the spot on my ear that had already been biopsied twice needed more taken off and I would have to go see a plastic surgeon because of the location on the ear, I almost choked.

Deputy D, on the other hand, was delighted and started making a wish list of other things to talk to the doctor about while we were there.  Men.  That's all I have to say about that right now.

So I am sitting there, with the doctor looking over the paperwork from the other office and he gives me the spiel about skin cancer and freckles and sunscreen and risk factors and I interrupt him to ask just how high my risk factor really was.  He starts laughing and then looks at me and said, "Seriously?"

Ok, yes.  I am a fair-skinned, red-headed, walking advertisement for sunscreen.  I get it.

That doesn't mean that I had the sense God gave a goose when I was younger and was making it my mission in life to get a tan.  I would skip the sunscreen and lay out on a towel for hours until I was burned to a crisp and crying from the pain.

Dumb, I know.  There are many people who watched me grow up that would say that was just one of many idiotic decisions that I made on my quest to adulthood.  But I wanted that lovely tan shade of skin that everyone else was sporting so badly!  I never did get that tan, but I did get several suspicious-looking spots on my body that I now have to worry about on a regular basis.

As the doctor is describing to me the procedure where they will cut off a chunk of my ear and then cover it up with a patch of skin that they will remove from my face, I was sitting there in horror wondering if those years or trying to get a tan (in vain) were really worth it.  I also found out in a discussion with my co-workers earlier in the day that I am the only idiot who does not regularly put sunscreen on their earlobes when applying.

So, moral of the story is... Wear Sunscreen.  In copious amounts and the higher the SPF the better.  I don't care what the experts say about its effectiveness, the 110 SPF on the bottle makes me feel better about the protection level, which is probably a very clever marketing ploy on the part of the sunscreen manufacturers.  Well-played, marketing people.  Well-played.

Little Man normally argues with me about having to cover up with a shirt and hat and gobs of sunscreen before going outside, but once he saw me with my eight band-aids from the dermatologist's biopsies and understood what they were, he doesn't utter a word of protest now.  If only I had been that smart when I was younger.

Happy Thursday!

Don't forget to check me out on Facebook and Pinterest!

And next week, Tasty Thursday will make a reappearance, so be sure and check back to see how my recipe testing goes.

Have a great week everyone!

Truthful Tuesday - Let Us Run With Endurance the Race That Is Set Before Us

Ok, let's be honest.  Everyone who is a parent has wanted to throw their hands up in the air and give up at some point.  But you just can't.  There is this little person that is counting on you to teach them how life works, the difference between right and wrong, why girls are so confusing, and all the other important milestones they will encounter.

When you have a child with special needs, sometimes these everyday parental tasks become overwhelming.  To the point where you want to go into the other room, shut the door, and cry it out.  Like when you are trying to explain to you 9-yead-old that "no, the little girl from down the street cannot have a sleep-over because girls and boys do not have sleepovers until they are much, much older" and he cannot wrap his head around it because he does not see gender lines.  All he sees is that the little girl down the street is one of his best friends, and it should be perfectly ok to have a sleepover with one of your best friends.  He also cannot understand that the little girl down the street is much more patient and understanding with him than all of his other classmates, but that does not mean she considers him one of her best friends.

Little Man's world is so black and white sometimes.  He sees "friend" or "not friend" and cannot see the social subtleties of "friend who is a girl", "friend who is a boy", "acquaintance who is friendly", "causal friend", and "BFF".  These gray lines do not exist for him.

But that is just one of the struggles we have with him.  Another one is getting him to make proper choices or follow everyday routines (that in my mind, he should have down pat because, well, we do them EVERY DAY).

I think I have touched on this before, but visual schedules have become a life-saver around our house.  Specifically, visual schedules with pictures.  The first time I tried a visual schedule for Little Man, I wrote everything down in words and sentences.  Because after all, his was reading Harry Potter in 2nd Grade, and is on a reading level 2-3 grades ahead.  Makes sense, right?

WRONG!

His little brain is wired differently that one would expect.  He is also terrible at spelling, by the way.  Almost on a daily basis I have to step back, look at the situation, and re-assess how I need to present things to him in a way that he can understand.  I have not quite mastered this on my own, and the Special Education In-Home Parent Trainer has been a tremendous resource for us this past year.  She is the one who helped me understand that Little Man could not make sense of the words on the schedules, and was overwhelmed by them.  She help me to come with with the visual schedules that we use.

The first that we implemented was a clipboard that we keep at the kitchen table where Little Man does his homework.  He comes in the door from the bus, checks his schedule, and then moves over each activity when he is done with it.  This gets him involved and he likes that, and he can see what is coming so that there are no surprises (and can see when he gets to quit doing the things he doesn't like and start doing the things he does like).  This worked so well for us, that his teacher made him one for his daily activities at school.

We then moved to a chart in the bathroom.  (A lot of children with Autism have trouble with personal hygiene routines, for various reasons.  Little Man's problem seemed to be that he just did not understand how important personal hygiene is.  Once we made his chart for the bathroom and has several conversations about the importance, this has seemed to get much easier.)

The next step was to make a chart for his bedroom where we can list out all of the daily activities for the day.  Again, he knows what to expect and in what order to complete things.

Finally, and this is the best one yet, we made a choice board for the hallway.  How many other parents hear on a regular basis, "Mom, I'm bored!  What can I do?"  It gets annoying quickly, right?  Well with Little Man, this was worse because he could not even come up with possibilities to keep him busy and kept asking to do things that were inappropriate for the situation he was in (i.e. wanted to go shoot his bow and arrow alone when his Project Sunshine Buddy was visiting).  So, the in-home trainer came up with the idea to give him a choice board for activities that he can do alone and activities that he can do with other people.  Now, when he asks what he can do, we tell him to go pick an activity off the board, and specify which side he needs to chose from.

The beauty of this system is that the pictures that we use are all the same size and are interchangeable between all of the boards.  I can use the homework pictures on the choice board, and vice versa.  I love it!

I do apologize is this is a repetitive post, but these schedules have become so useful to us that I wanted to be sure and share them with everyone.

Truthful Tuesday - My Magical Secret Weapon

I pondered on Facebook a while back that high heels have magical powers.  And I really think they do.  I first realized it right after Little Man was born and I was struggling with being separated and a new mom at the same time.  I had found these beautiful gold-colored pumps with black lace and velvet bows.  I wore them to work one day, and I strutted around the office feeling pretty great about myself.

One of my co-workers commented in the break-room at lunchtime that there was something different about me that day, but that she could not put her finger on it.  I was puzzled, as I was not wearing a new outfit and I did not have a different haircut.  A wizened, older gentleman sitting at the table next to our smiled sagely and  nodded his head towards the floor where I was sitting.  "It's the shoes," he said.

I didn't think much about it at the time, but over the years I have noticed that whenever I put on a pair of high heels, my self-confidence sky rockets.  I feel pretty and sexy and strong.  I can't explain it, I just know that's how it is.

I have always loved shoes, but my obsession with high heels is a more recent one.  The heels keep getting taller and taller.  And yes, the taller they get, the more uncomfortable they become but I honestly don't care because I feel so good about myself.

Who knew that a shoe has the power to make a woman feel like she can conquer the world?  Ridiculous, you say?  Maybe.  But I am telling you that it is true.

Perhaps it is that the shoes make me feel ultra-feminine.  Perhaps it is because they make me taller.  All I know is that on days when I am facing a tough meeting or situation, I come armed with my tallest, most sparkly pair of shoes.  And I feel like nothing can bring me down.

Moral of the story?  Feeling down about yourself?  Have a meeting or presentation coming up that you are nervous about?  Just need a little pick-me-up?  Take my advice and go out and splurge on a gorgeous, sparkly pair of high heels.  It will make all the difference in the world!

Truthful Tuesday - Mother Always Knows Best

Except that sometimes she doesn't because she doesn't have a clue what she is doing and just wants everyone else to think that she does.

I am sitting here typing, almost in tears, because I am in way over my head.

Homework for Little Man has been an huge issue for us this school year.  We spend 2-3 hours every night on homework that should take 15-20 minutes tops, and there are tears and screaming and pleading before it is all said and done.

It's not that Little Man struggles with the material, he just doesn't see the point in homework.  So for him, that is the end of the story.  In his mind, he has done his duty by sitting through school all day and should be free to pursue whatever he wants once he gets home.

And tonight...  Well tonight was probably the craziest experience we have had to date because he spent over 30 minutes arguing with both Deputy Doug and me that it was not him that wrote one of his spelling words incorrectly.  When he was the only one in the kitchen with a pencil in his hand.  He didn't know how it got there, but he was not the one who wrote it.

Really?

The first few minutes, I just stared at him incredulously with my jaw hanging open because, for the life of me, I could not fathom that we were even having this conversation.  I, somewhat calmly,  reiterated to him that he was the only one in the kitchen and therefore it could only be him who wrote the spelling word, but he was insistent that it was not him.

How do you handle something like that?  He was not budging an inch.  And he cried and he screamed while I tried to keep my calm and employ some of the techniques that the autism specialist has been working with us on, when inside I was screaming and crying as well.  He finally gave in and admitted that it was him that wrote the word after 45 minutes of conversation, losing most of his privileges, and him seeing that I was not going to budge an inch either.

How naive of me to think that with the new year upon us and two weeks off from school (plus the fact that Little Man came home in an extremely good mood) that things might be different.

How did my mom do it?  She always seemed so sure of herself and what she was doing.  I have to wonder if she ended up in her room at night, hiding in a corner and rocking herself while trying to figure out what the heck she was doing.  Because that's what I feel like doing sometimes.

I love Little Man to the moon and back, but sometimes I have to wonder if God gave this precious little imp to the wrong mother.  Because there has to be someone out there that would handle this a lot better than me, and that would be more wise and know how to help Little Man work through these things.

I have a couple of names and numbers of mothers who also are raising boys with Aspergers.  Friends who have seen me struggling have been kind enough to try and find me someone to talk to who has been there and done that already, so that I can see that there is light at the end of the tunnel.  I have been told  that one of the mothers has handled the situation by just embracing her son's quirkiness.  I have been hesitant to call because I am scared that they are going to tell me that my situation is nothing compared to others and I am just being a wimp.  Or that I am handling everything all wrong.  Or that I am a complete and utter failure as a mother.

But seeing as how I am pretty sure that I am going to need some kind of support to make it through this, maybe now is a good time to pick up the phone and call.  Maybe I am not the only mother who feels like she doesn't have a clue about how to raise another human being.  Maybe mother doesn't always know best and needs to admit as much.

Truthful Tuesday - Semantics... The Difference Between Men and Women

Deputy D was out of town a while back.  Before he left, I admonished him to be good, to stay out of trouble, and to please stay away from motorcycle dealerships.  Those of you who know us know that the months following the great motorcycle fiasco were really rough, and I definitely did not want a repeat performance.

Back to semantics.  When Deputy D promised me that he would not go to any motorcycle dealerships, I was under the impression that he and I were on the same page about all the possible scenarios this promise covered.  It seemed pretty simple to me.  Don't go anywhere near any motorcycle dealerships.  Period.  For any reason.  Don't even think about motorcycles, upgrading motorcycles, or test-driving motorcycles.  Motorcycles and dealerships are off limits.

To him, the guidelines were not so crystal clear.

One evening, his friends decided that they wanted to go peruse the offerings of the closest dealership when they had some down time and, Deputy D being the stand-up guy that he is, offered to drive them there and keep them out of any trouble.  Apparently, it never occurred to him that this would be breaking the promise he made me in any way.

I was livid when I found out.  After all, he had made me a promise and had broken that promise.  Black and white, right?

Wrong.  His argument to me was that he had not TECHNICALLY broken the promise because he had not actually gone onto the showroom floor.  He did not test-drive a motorcycle and did not even talk to a salesman.  He stayed outside in the accessories area and waited there while his friends went in to the showroom floor and shopped.

We argued and fought and discussed.  And it all boils down to semantics.  He knew what I meant when I asked him to make the promise, and he decided to test the boundaries of that promise to the fullest extent possible.  He did not actually come home with a new motorcycle, which I am thankful for, but I am having a hard time getting the picture of him test-driving a bike out of my head.  Even though he says he stayed in the accessories area.

He has a perfectly good motorcycle at home.  It is fairly new, and still runs well most of the time.  Why would he want to look at or window shop for a different machine?  After all, he picked out the model that he currently has and, for the most part, I thought he was pretty happy with it.

Things are almost always black and white to women, but it seems to me that men like to live in the gray areas.  They like to push things as far as they can go, without actually breaking the rules.  At least, that has been my experience.  I wonder why that is, and why men and women are so different in that regards.  Even Little Man, who is the king of being literal and things being black and white, likes to see exactly how far he can push a situation without actually breaking the rules or getting into trouble.

It probably boils down somehow to women being fueled by their emotions, and men sticking to the logic involved in a situation.  To stay out of the doghouse though, it seems to me that men would learn to just accept the things that drive their wives crazy and love them in spite of it.  And for goodness sake... Don't make a promise (knowing exactly what the promise means) if you don't intend on keeping it!

Truthful Tuesday - Back to Normal, If There Is Such a Thing

Well, it's life back to normal around here.  Or as normal as life can be for us at least.

Little Man is back in school, and I am really hoping that this year goes so much better than last year.  Since we did the testing and got the results at the very end of the year last semester, we are a little unsure exactly what this school year will hold for us.

It was a pretty rough summer for all of us.  Between me being typical Emo Marie about our struggle getting pregnant, Little Man being gone for so long for visitation, my aunt passing away, and then the tragedy of Constable Bachmann... Well, let's just say I am totally on board with summer being over.

Surprisingly, Little Man being gone for a whole month for this summer's visitation seemed to work better for him than going back and forth every few weeks.  But we have had him off his medicine for most of the summer to let him gain some weight back, and so there have been some struggles.

But we did make an observation.  The side effects of the medicine that he was on far outweighed the little benefit that he was getting from it.  So, for the time being, he is going to school medicine-free.  And I am terrified.  I keep waiting for the phone to ring with a call from the teacher about how she is at wit's end with him.  He seems to really like her, and I think that is going to be helpful.

We are working on making changes at home, too, in order to  make things easier for him.  When I redecorated him room while he was gone this summer, I put most of his toys into plastic shoe boxes with lids.  Each type of toy has it's own container.  This has been a really great tool for helping him to keep his room clean.  The Autism specialist told us in May that the reason that his room kept turning into a war zone and looked like a bomb had exploded in it was that there was just too much in there for him to deal with and he was getting overwhelmed.  So I decided to try and compartmentalize things for him, because he seems to like it at school when everything has its own container or particular place.

They are going to be using a visual schedule for him at school.  I honestly don't know what theirs is going to look like, but I found class schedules at the craft store that are dry erase and are large enough for me to fit his whole day on.  Deputy D and I are hoping that by having a visual chart to refer to, it will help him know exactly what he is supposed to be doing at certain times.  The down side to this is that if I put that 7:15 is the time for him to brush his teeth, we better be brushing right at 7:15 on the dot.  Or there will be mass hysteria.

The other thing I am going to try is to post visual reminders around his room and bathroom about the order in which he is supposed to do things.  I am hoping that all of this put together will help home life go much more smoothly this year as well.

We have an appointment with his doctors in a couple of weeks to assess the medication situation.  He has filled out and grown so much over the summer, that I am really reluctant to put him back on any medication.  But I know that I will do whatever it takes to get him the best quality of life possible and to be as successful as he can be.

Wish us luck, because we have not had homework sent home yet this year, and that was one of the biggest challenges last year.  Once we get to that hurdle, I will be better able to predict how the year is going to go.

May the force be with us!

Truthful Tuesday - A Million Little Pieces

One week ago, Constable Bachmann was senselessly gunned down while serving an eviction notice, an event that shook our community to the core.  Constable Bachmann and an an innocent bystander lost their lives that day, and another bystander was left fighting for her life in the hospital, her only crime being that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

One week ago, I had to come face to face with all the "why's" and "what if's" that are involved with being  law enforcement officer.  I had to watch a stoic widow hold her children as they said good-bye to their father, while a community said good-bye to one of its finest citizens.

One week ago, I was forced to stop living in ignorant bliss and actually deal with all the "what if's" that come along with being the wife of a law enforcement officer.  What if he did get injured or did not make it home one day?  What would my life be like?  How would I even begin to handle that?  Am I strong enough to even face that possibility head on?

I have wrestled with some very harsh realities and ugly truths this past week, and will  admit that it has taken its toll on me.  The fact that I dealt with most of them on my own has made me come out the other side a stronger person and, I hope, a better wife to Deputy D.  I still have a long way to go... Everyone does.  Grieving is a long process, and everyone does it in their own way and in their own time.

Some of the ugly truths I had to face were about myself.

I am still angry at the shooter.  Judge me however you want.  I don't think he had the right to take lives to deal with his own internal struggles.  Everyone has internal struggles.  Not everyone picks up a gun and starts shooting people to deal with them.  His decision to pick up a gun that day and start shooting has tragically impacted countless lives.

The truth is that anything could happen to any one of us at any point during the day.  We could be in a wreck, we could get sick, or we could encounter any of the numerous unseen dangers that we face every day.  The fact that we live with law enforcement officers just makes those possibilities so much more imminent.

The police, firefighters, and first responders are heroes to me now even more than they have ever been before.  Up until last week, their service and sacrifice was something that I took for granted and did not give much thought to. Never again.  Over the past week, I have seen up close and personal what their job really entails and what they willingly choose to give to up for people (mostly strangers) each and every time they go on duty or start their shift.

I have had to come to grips with the fact that I need to have the internal fortitude to be strong and make it through whatever life throws at us on my own, without relying on others to make it through the day.  Before, I would have said that I was not one of those people who can do that.  Now, I know that I can handle more on my own than I ever thought was possible.

I found myself in a very dark place Saturday night, darker than almost any other time in my life.  Deputy D had to work, and I found myself have to deal with my grief and all the extreme emotions that were spilling out alone.  I sat on the couch, hearing the clock tick and all the "why's" and "what if's" were echoing around the empty house and bouncing off the walls.  I could not turn on the laptop or TV because I just could not bear to watch any more news clips or Facebook posts about the funeral.  Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see and hear were the final status check from the funeral playing on a repeat loop in my brain.

I finally got myself to sleep... I will freely admit that I had medicinal help with this.  The next morning, I went to church thinking I would be able to find some comfort there, but that did not work out exactly like I thought it would.  I found myself alone in a sea of people, and ended up coming home and crying some more.

There has been a lot of crying this past week.  I have shed more tears this week than I have in several years put together.  Please know that it was not all about the past week's events.  The funeral was just the final straw in a string of really stressful events that have happened over the summer.  I think I finally just had all I could take and broke into a million pieces.

Funny thing is, it has been easy to start the process of putting myself back together.  Once you take a good long look at the pieces that used to be you, you start seeing that there might be a better way to put them back together.  And then you end up being a better person than you started out.

In Loving Memory of All the Heroes Who Make the Ultimate Sacrifice...

Truthful Tuesday - The Thin Blue Line

I am still struggling to understand how I feel right now.

Of course, my heart aches for the wife and children of the officer that died yesterday.  I can't begin to even pretend to understand what they must be going through.  I can only try to imagine the heartache I would feel if it were me.

I am angry at the shooter and the senseless killing of an outstanding officer, father, and husband.

I am grateful that my law enforcement officer is safe today and came home to me this morning, and I am ashamed of my selfishness for that. 

I am sad for all the officers in the community that lost a friend, fellow officer, and mentor. 

I am thankful for the sacrifice that my husband and all the police officers in the community make each and every time that they go on duty to protect us and keep us safe.

Deputy D has been in law enforcement since we got married.  We have talked about the dangers the job entails, but I have always been overly confident that he will come home to me and nothing will ever happen to him.  After all, in my eyes, he is Superman and therefore indestructible.

A wife of a fellow officer said yesterday that she chooses to live in blissful ignorance of all the "what if's" and that about sums it up.   If we focus on and think about all the "what'ifs", how we would ever even let them walk out the door?

The cold, harsh reality is that anything could happen to them at any given moment that they are on duty, just like it did on an idle Monday afternoon in College Station yesterday.  Before he left last night, I held Deputy D closer and longer than I have in a long while.  He came home to me this morning, while there is a widow out there who is grieving and went to bed alone.  I am blessed beyond words that my police officer is safe and here with us now.

I sincerely hope that Officer Bachmann's sacrifice was not in vain.  It certainly has not gone unnoticed, and there is an entire community grieving right along with family and friends.  Aggies tend to love and support their own, not matter what and I know that a maroon wall of support surrounding his wife and children.

In her post, the fellow officer's wife continues to talk about how our guys are not always there to put our children to bed, and often are not home when we wake up in the morning.  They miss church services, school events, and birthday parties.  Our guys are up roaming the streets at night keeping us safe, while we are are home in bed sleeping peacefully.

I get angry and hurt about that sometimes, and it is difficult to deal with.  I don't even know how my real-life Army wife cousin KiKi has done it all these years.  I think it takes special people to be law enforcement, firefighters, and soldiers.  And I think it takes special people to be their families and support.  Yesterday has me seriously questioning whether I made of the stuff it takes to be one of those people.

Am I really willing to let Deputy D sacrifice our life together to possibly lose it all in a senseless killing?

I don't have any answers, and I have struggled to even get words out to begin to make sense of it all.  I hope you bear with me if any of this is offensive or is rambling.  This is the first time anything like this has even remotely hit close to home for us.

My Facebook feed has gone back to it's regular lineup of food, politics, and general comments about everyday life.  How quickly most have moved on.  But I have not, and it will take a while for me to sort through all of this.

Please continue to pray for Constable Bachmann's family, and the families of all the victims. They will need all the love, prayer, and support that they can get to make it through this time.

Rest in peace, Constable Bachmann.  I only met you in person a couple of times, but you made a difference in a lot of lives and I heard about that so many times.

Please take a moment today to stop and think about all of the police, firefighters, and soldiers that sacrifice every day to keep us safe.  And may we never forget those that have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Life's Like an Hourglass Glued to the Table

"2 AM and I'm still awake writing a song.  If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me threatening the life it belongs to.  And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd cause these words are my diary screaming out loud, and I know that you'll use them however you want to.

But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable and life's like an hourglass glued to the table.  No one can find the rewind button now.  Sing it if you understand.  And breathe, just breathe..."

~Breathe (2AM) Anna Nalick

Breathe, just breathe.  That's been my motto for the past couple of weeks.  It's been a while since I have given an actual update on the emotional status of Emo Marie.  That's because I was scared that that once I started typing the words, I wouldn't be able to control them and they would not stop.  There have been so many times I have written posts in my head, but haven't been able to sit down and write anything of importance.

People have been asking me over and over the past few weeks how I have been doing.  I give the appropriate "Oh, I am doing ok" response, when inside I am screaming that I am not ok at all, and I don't know when things are going to be alright again.

Breathe, just breathe...

For starters, my stupid biological clock is ticking so loudly that I think my cousin KiKi in Germany can probably hear it.  For some reason, I always knew deep inside that I would not have kids after I turned 35.  Well lo and behold, that dreaded birthday is creeping up on me.  It is no longer years away, it is a matter of a couple of months.  Now, every hour that passes is like another grain of sand dropping down in the hourglass that I can never get back.  I know deep, deep inside that a miracle could happen and I could get pregnant in the next few weeks, but with our medical issues and the way things have been going lately, I just know that is not going to happen.

It's like I have been trying to write the final chapter and close the book on an unfinished story, and the writer inside of me just doesn't know how to do that.  Never would I have imagined that not being able to have a baby would be something that I would have to deal with.  And honestly, it's killing me.  It's something I want so badly, and I don't know how to let the dream go.  I am truly trying, but I am struggling.

I have a stash of baby clothes, blankets, and miscellaneous trinkets from when Little Man was a baby stored in a friend's storage shed.  I have been holding on to them in the hopes that if we did get pregnant, it would be a boy and I could reuse them.  I think it is time that I go get them and go through them, keeping the most precious to me, and sell or donate the rest.  I think the best course of action for me at this point is to lock all of the emotions up inside my internal lock-box and move on right now, because they are overwhelming me and have been affecting my everyday life.  I know I will have to deal with them at some point, but I just can't right now.

Breathe, just breathe...

Then there is the struggle with being a working mom.  Work has been crazy the past couple of weeks.  In our industry, that is an amazing problem to have and I would never complain about it because so many companies have shut down the last couple of years due to lack of business.  I love my company and my co-workers, and am going to continue to do my best to help keep that from happening.

But I have been so emotionally and physically exhausted after work, that I come home and fall on the couch and struggle to stay awake until it's time to put Little Man to bed.  I have had trouble focusing, and have not been doing anything around the house that I need to.  I have to find a way to get back into the swing of things and keep up with our chore and laundry schedule that I made.

Breathe, just breathe...

My aunt, who recently lost her battle with cancer, passed away recently.  It has been a huge emotional drain on our family, and my heart has been with my uncle and my mom while they worked their way through everything.  It has brought how extremely precious each and every second we have with our loved ones is into sharp focus.  You never know what tomorrow will bring, and you should treasure each and every day that you have.

My uncle is a truck driver and is back out on the road now, but I hope he knows how much I love him and that my thoughts and prayers are with him through this difficult time.

Breathe, just breathe...

I won't go into detail now, because I plan on blogging about it in more detail at some point, but another struggle I have been having recently is the balance of being an overly-emotional wife to an overly-logical husband.  Fire and ice don't always mix, and it has been hard to find a safe middle ground lately.

Breathe, just breathe...

The last big thing I have been dealing with is our struggles with Little Man.  When he came back from his long summer visitation, he was doing so great.  He loved his room make-over, and all the plastic containers with lids seem to provide him a great way to deal with all the items in his room.  He was cleaning his room and putting things up without having to be told, and was holding conversations with others and using his manners on a regular basis.  We were amazed!

However, he has slowly slipped back into his old patterns and we don't know what the trigger or the key is to help him maintain doing so well.  We don't want to put him back on the ADHD medicine, because the side effects far outweigh the small amount of benefit he gets from it.  However, with school coming up in a couple of weeks, we know he will not be able to adjust without finding what that key or trigger is.  We are working with his psychologist and doctor to try and find something that will help him without too many side effects, but I have a feeling it will be a slow trial and error process.

In the meantime, the stress of trying to have parental conversations with a little person who can talk circles are you and is so extremely literal is exhausting.  I end up staring at him with nothing coming out of my mouth, because I just don't know what to say.  If he ends up deciding to become a lawyer, I feel sorry for the judges that have to deal with him in court.  I apologize in advance.

Breathe, just breathe...

So for now, I am just going to keep breathing.  I need to get back to blogging because that was helping me, but trying to find the time and energy lately has been difficult to say the least.  I have a stockpile of photos, topics, and projects I have worked on, I just need to sit down and do the writing part.

Sorry for the long post, but I figured I should just go ahead and get it all out while I was at it.  Later today, I plan on trying a sourdough chocolate cake recipe that I found on the King Arthur web site if I have all of the ingredients, so stay tuned for the results.  And don't be surprised if you see projects from a far back as Father's Day showing up for Make Something Monday.

Truthful Tuesday - Airing My Dirty Laundry

"I like hugs and I like kisses, but what I really love is help with the dishes!" ~Author Unknown

Truthful Tuesday is here once again.  Pondering what to share this week, I came to the conclusion that I should share one of my dirty little secrets.  I hate to clean.  No, really.  I HATE to clean the house.  I would rather go get a root canal or sit through a daylong, boring lecture about a subject I don't care about than sweep, mop, vacuum, or do laundry.

That's not to say that I like things messy or dirty.  Clutter doesn't bother me as much as it does Deputy D.  On the contrary, clutter makes me feel safe and happy and surrounded by items that I love.  But I don't like things dirty or messy or laying all over the house.  I just don't want to be the one to clean it up.

I blame this entirely on my mom.  Let me interject here that I love my mom, and I have forewarned her that she may pop up occasionally on the blog.  She was hesitant, but said that the understood how important this writing was to me, so she would try and be understanding.  This being said, I will be calling her as soon as I post this to let her know that I love her no matter what her quirks are.  Everyone has them.  Deputy D could write a book about mine.  One of hers just happens to be liking things extremely neat and clean all of the time.

At any rate, back to blaming my mom for my loathing of cleaning and chores.  Growing up, this is how a typical Saturday went down at our house.  Wake up at 7:00 a.m., clean the bathroom, do laundry, clean the bedroom, do more laundry, wash dishes, vacuum, do yet more laundry, dust, take out the trash, sweep, still more laundry, do the dishes again, finish the laundry, go to bed.  My mom's recollection of Saturdays growing up is quite different and consists more of her cleaning the house while my brother and I argue with her about helping.  Dad's view (very wisely) is very similar to mom's.  While my brother's is somewhere quite firmly in the middle.

Keep in mind that my mom worked both a full-time job and a part-time job to help take care of us, and Sundays were reserved for church and resting.  In her defense, this really only left Saturdays for the housework and chores.

Still, I stick to my contention that having to clean the house from dusk until dawn every Saturday made me hate cleaning with a passion.  Deputy D knows very well that if we ever win the lottery, Merry Maids will be my first call, even before we call our parents or call to quit work.  It was even worse last year when I was so depressed.  I was tired and apathetic and just didn't do anything around here like it should have been done.  Laundry piled up on the couch for weeks at a time.  Dishes piled up in the sink until Deputy D had time to deal with them.  You get the picture.

It doesn't help that once I started cleaning again, I felt like I was picking up after Deputy D and Little Man constantly.  Deputy D likes to leave cups laying all around the house and outside.  I find cups in the garage, on the back porch, and in the driveway by the cars.  Little Man likes to leave his dirty clothes on the floor in his bathroom and his closet.  He has laundry baskets in both places, but refuses to actually hit them.  The clothes go on the floor right beside the baskets.  Every day.

I do not pretend to be innocent.  I have a strange hang-up to where my shoes have to be kicked off right as I walk in the door.  So unless we know there is company coming, you can find a week's worth of my shoes piled up by the front door on any given day.

And I dirty up every pot and pan and spoon in the kitchen when I cook.  It's really bad, and blame this one completely on my dad.  He does the same thing.  Mom hates it when he cooks because she has such a huge mess to clean up.  I submit the following photos from Sunday's lunch as proof that I am not exaggerating.

Right.  Rambling again.

So we had to come up with a solution that worked for both of us, to where the workload was small enough that we could handle it and that we could both share the workload enough to  make it manageable since we both work full-time.  I came across some ideas on Pinterest and also from a friend's chore schedule that I found on her refrigerator one night while I was visiting.

We decided to make a schedule that included cleaning up one room and doing one load of laundry every day.  We don't necessarily do a deep cleaning of the rooms on the schedule every time, sometimes just a quick pick up to make the rooms presentable.  Also, we left Little Man on his own with his room.  It seems to be working out really well for us.  I just glance at the chart each morning, and do what I can before I leave for work and even at lunch.  Then I finish up after dinner, and usually have a little time left to relax and watch a few minutes of TV or read with Little Man.

I am not sure if it helps anyone, but here is the schedule that we came up with:

Sunday - Sheets (Laundry), None (Cleaning)
Monday - Deputy D's Clothes (Laundry), Living Room (Cleaning)
Tuesday - Little Man's Clothes (Laundry), Little Man's Bathroom (Cleaning)
Wednesday - Towels (Laundry), Master Bedroom (Cleaning)
Thursday - Whites (Laundry), Master Bathroom (Cleaning)
Friday - Jeans (Laundry), Office (Cleaning)
Saturday - My Clothes (Laundry), Kitchen (Cleaning)

Of course, we do the dishes and pick up the kitchen every day.  The cleaning on Saturday is more of a deep cleaning.  Spreading the laundry out to one or two loads a day has made it immensely more manageable than what we were doing before.  Which was basically trying to do all the laundry in one day for a whole week's worth of clothes for a family.

I hope this helps someone out there that detests cleaning and chores as much as I do to know that there is a way to make it manageable, if not pleasant.

Truthful Tuesday - Money In The Bank

I have been asked by several people to blog about my recent experience.  I aim to please, so here goes.

I stopped to get some food and a drink late one afternoon as I was famished and needed a snack.  My check card did not work.  That was strange because I knew I had plenty of money in the account to cover my purchase, so I logged into my handy-dandy mobile bank app and discovered that I had a whopping $12.77 left in my account.  That was way less than it should have been by several hundred dollars.

Everything turned black for a second and I literally could not breathe.  There was no way that could possibly be correct!!  We had just gotten paid the previous Friday and I keep very careful track of our expenditures. I scrolled through the transactions, and found thirteen transactions in varying amounts at Wal-Mart stores in three different cities, all from the same date.  Well, Deputy D and I were both at home on those dates and had definitely not been on a Wal-Mart shopping spree.

I called Deputy D and could barely get enough words out to tell him what was wrong.  After several minutes of trying to verbalize what was going on, he finally understood what I was saying and cop-mode kicked in and he started barking orders.  He sent me to the bank to talk to someone, while he called our local police department.

I was in tears by the time I got to the teller's window (who ended up being the assistant branch manager), and she calmly helped walk me through the conversation as she looked up my account.  She was very helpful and compassionate, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciated her assistance through the entire process.  Once I told her what was wrong, she asked me a couple of telling questions.  She asked were the transactions in three specific cities in amounts of around $99?  Well yes, most of them were.  And had we recently eaten at a particular local restaurant in the last couple of weeks by any chance?  Well yes, we had.

Turns out that I was the sixth person to come into my branch that week with the exact same problem.  And by same problem, I mean we had all eaten at the same restaurant, and all had the same unauthorized transaction amounts at the same Wal-Mart stores.  Suspicious, isn't it?  The bank's security department had already flagged the transactions as suspicious because they were out of my normal purchasing routines, and she immediately cancelled my check card.

I started thinking about the evening we ate at the restaurant, and I should have listened to my inner Spidey-sense that night.  Maybe, I could have saved us a lot of stress and time.  The waiter kept my card for at least 20 minutes, which was really unusual.  When he returned, I signed a receipt that said he had keyed my information in because my card would not swipe and had an imprint of my card at the bottom.  I didn't argue, because we had been having trouble swiping my card every time I used it.  I left a tip, signed the receipt, and went on my way without giving it too much thought.

I know.  Stupid, right?

It turns out that these people can use a skimmer to take your card information and put it onto a blank card with their name on it, so the cashiers who check them out are never the wiser.  They put my check card info onto their fake cards, and then went to Wal-Mart and purchased prepaid gift cards.  They simply do transaction after transaction after transaction until the card is declined because there is no money left.  They keep the amounts small so they have more of a chance of the transactions going through.  I would think that any cashier worth keeping would find these types on transactions suspicious or know that they are supposed to watch out for them since this is apparently a really common crime, unless they were in on it.  But what do I know?

Our local police department would not take a report because we suspected that the theft of the information was actually in a neighboring city's jurisdiction.  We filed a police report with them, but they said we would have to file a report with each individual city for the use of the cards in those cities.  Work was kind enough to let me take a day off to take care of this, and we actually did travel to each of the three cities and file reports.  However, in each of these three cities, the police departments argued with us and did not want to take a report because they said our local department should be taking the report and handling everything.

What it boils down to is that they have no way of actually catching the people who did this, so no one wants to add another report to the stack of hundreds of reports that already exist.  The waiter probably was hired under a fake name and address, and has probably already left town.  One of the police departments we visited with said that their Wal-Mart has military-grade surveillance cameras in place and even been used to solve crimes across the highway, but even though the people where caught red-handed on video, there was no way of knowing who they actually are to arrest them.

Out of the five police departments we visited with and filed reports with, not one has called us back for a follow-up or to get more information.  Deputy D says that they will wait an appropriate time (basically enough time for me to calm down and stop feeling victimized), and then they will call to tell me that they are sorry but they are closing the case because they have no leads and no one of catching the person that did this to me.

I did feel really victimized, even though Deputy D still thinks that is funny that I felt violated.  Someone stole my personal information, and had the audacity to think they had the right to the money that Deputy D and I worked hard for.  And they are going to get away with it.  I still feel a little panicky every time I log on to check my bank account, and the when I went in to make a deposit I would not let go of the check and the teller had to rip it out of my hands.  I was assured that our account itself was safe, that just our check card information was compromised.

We filed a dispute claim with the bank, and the fraud department ruled in our favor and just replaced the money that was taken.  I am grateful for that, but I am amazed at their procedures.  I just got a letter in the mail this weekend that the bank noticed some unusual activity on my card and has frozen my account until they talked to me.  A letter.  In the mail.  After everything was already said and done and the police reports were filed and I was moving on.  Really??

From now on, we will not be using a check card at any location for anything unless we are the ones who actually swipe it.  There is still a chance we could be swiping a card skimmer, but it at least makes me feel better to be the one who swipes.  And we are only going to use cash or a credit card in restaurants or stores that we are not familiar with.  I might even dig a hole in the backyard to bury coffee cans with our money from now on.  I have hesitated to shop online or use my new card anywhere.

I know eventually it will all pass and I will be alright again.  And I really am grateful that the bank replaced the money and everything was taken care of.  But I am still REALLY mad at the guy that felt he had the right to just take all my money because he doesn't want to work for a living.  And I am still REALLY mad that he is going to get away with it.

I thought maybe if I shared my experience, it would help other people protect themselves a bit more or would know what to expect if it ever happens to them.  Plus, it just feels good to vent and get it off my chest.

Truthful Tuesday - Brother Knows Best

Hello.  My name is Emo Marie and I like to play video games.

Yes, I know that I am in my 30's and I am a parent, but I still like to play video games.  My favorites are the Lego series.  I just finished up Lego Batman 2, and got 100% completion and all of the achievements.  I realize they are targeted towards children, but I love to solve the puzzles and figure out how to unlock all the characters, and it's something that Deputy D and Little Man and I can play together.

I also occasionally play shooter games with Deputy D.  I am one of those players who likes to camp and snipe people, although the last couple of games he has brought home has not been conducive to this style of playing.  I like the fact that I get on the headset and people are amazed that it is a girl playing, and we get many game invites this way.  This benefits us when higher level people invite us to play, and we are able to take some time to level up on a winning team.

There is a whole other story to how Ammo Girl was born, but I will save that for another day.  Today, I want to focus on the dark side of gaming.  I started thinking about it when I traded in my Skyrim game to help and get the new Batman one.

To understand where this is going, you need to know that back in college, my brother (Smartypants) gave me an ominous warning.  He looked at me, and in a very stern, serious tone of voice said that I should NEVER PLAY WORLD OF WARCRAFT.  For many years, the command rattled around in my brain, but I never gave it much thought because I did not know what World of Warcraft was and I never looked into it.

Last year, our friend got every excited and said that a game just came out that I had to play.  Deputy D asked him what it was and was told,  "Skyrim."  We didn't know much about the game series, so we said alright and he brought a rented game disc over.  I was hooked within 30 seconds.  You mean I not only get to customize my character's appearance, but I can also choose character attributes and magical abilities?

I quickly took the controller from him and eagerly listened as he instructed how to start quests, earn money, and level up my high elf character.  In the back of my mind, I could hear Smartypants repeating, "NEVER PLAY WORLD OF WARCRAFT," but paid him no heed.  Because, after all, this was not World of Warcraft.

I played and I quested and I battled and I became an assassin just to get one of the puzzle pieces I needed.  I played at lunch and I played after work and I played while I waited for Little Man to get dressed in the mornings.  I promised Deputy D and Little Man that I would cook dinner just as soon as I finished the quest that I was on or as soon as I slayed the next dragon.  The phone would ring and I would just stare at it as I kept chasing the attackers or trying to figure out how to carry more weight so I could keep the sword I just forged.

Deputy D called Smartypants at some point and told him what I was playing.  Smartypants just sighed, and asked why he would have let me get started on a game like that.  Didn't he know that I was never supposed to play World of Warcraft or anything similar to that?  Deputy D said that I hadn't shared that bit of information, but it would have been good to know.

On the weekends that Little Man was gone, I would stay in my pajamas on the couch the entire weekend, and would play until I fell asleep with the controller in my hands.  I would play until everything was blurry from exhaustion and I could not even think straight, and then Deputy D would come home from work and carry me to bed.  I have mentioned that he works nights??

I forgot to stop and eat, and I tried not to drink a lot so that I would not be bothered by having to get up and go to the bathroom.

Our friend would text and ask what I was doing.  I would look at the phone, and then keep playing.  A little while later, I would get another text, "Oh, Skyrim again?  You should really take a break."

They tried to stage an intervention for me by making me watch the South Park episode that deals with World of Warcraft.  I am not really a South Park fan and I have to say that my response to it was probably not what they were looking for.  I laughed and then went straight back to playing my game.

Luckily I was playing on the PS3, which had a serious lag issue with the game.  It was so bad, that it would take 30 seconds or more for my character to take one step.  I was never able to actually complete the game.  The lag got so bad that it was completely unplayable.  And the patch did not really fix the problem, or they went behind my back and uninstalled the patch when I was not paying attention.  At any rate, one day my high elf was running after a dragon, sword raised, when she finally froze for good.  I stared at the screen forlornly, holding the controller in my lap wondering what to do next.  Deputy D came and gently took the controller from me, turned off the PS3 and television, and said that he thought maybe some fresh air would do me good.

I squinted at the bright ball of light in the sky and then took and deep breath and realized that Smartypants knew what he was talking about all along, and I should probably listen to him more often.

I wish I could say that I traded in Skyrim because I know better than to start playing again.  But the truth of the matter is that I just didn't want to take a chance on the lag problem not getting corrected, and I am hoping to get the game for our new Xbox.  If Deputy D knows the lag problem has since been corrected on the PS3, he certainly didn't volunteer the information.

So I am begging all my friends and family to just let me stick to the Lego games and not try and introduce me to role playing games that they think I will like.  Because I should never play World of Warcraft or anything remotely similar to it.  Brother knows best.

Let's Hear It For the Boy, Let's Give the Boy a Hand

Happy Birthday to my wonderful husband, Deputy D!  In honor of his birthday, I thought I would list 31 reasons that I love him, although there are many more than that!

31.  He called me for a second date, even though it turns out I was not a blonde.
30.  He likes dogs and small children.
29.  He makes a point to learn my favorite things, and makes sure I have them on a regular basis.
28.  He is my complete opposite, and balances me out in so many ways.
27.  He lets me clutter up the house, because he knows clutter makes me happy.
26.  He married me despite strong discouragement from other people in his life.
25.  He picked me up and carried me, even when I was 100 pounds heavier.
24.  He gave up his sports car so that I could have my dream car.
23.  He doesn't mind when I spend money on girly things (shoes, clothes, etc.)
22.  He makes a mean grilled cheese.
21.  He puts gas in my car for me.
20.  He thinks things though before taking action.
19.  He likes to spoil  me and makes it clear that my happiness is important to him.
18.  He helps my parents whenever he can.
17.  He makes it his mission in life to get me every little thing I mention that I want.
16.  He looks really nice in uniform.
15.  He served in the Marines.
14.  He likes fast cars and video games.
13.  He encourages me, and tells me I can do anything that I set my mind to.
12.  He immediately comes to help me whenever he sees me struggling with anything.
11.  He compliments me on my "lady-like" sneezes.
10.  He let me decorate the bedroom with purple paint and Bella's comforter.
9.  He puts up Christmas lights for me in October.
8.  He brings me a cup of coffee every morning when he is up before me.
7.  I feel safe when I am with him.
6.  He gets me a Barbie every year for Christmas.
5.  He takes me dancing, even though he doesn't really enjoy it.
4.  He lets me have control of the remote control when I am home.
3.  He is an amazing father to Little Man.
2.  He cleans house.
1.  He loves me unconditionally, even when I am being Emo Marie.

Vacation Time for Emo Marie

Sorry for the long absence, but we have had a lot going on these past few weeks.  I hope to be back with insightful and witty ramblings and musings very soon.

Stay tuned!!

If Tomorrow Never Comes

This morning at work, I got a text message telling me that my PawPaw Sam had a stroke and was in the hospital. I immediately started crying and freaking out, which might be a pretty normal reaction. But you have to understand that I have a really complicated relationship with this side of the family, and my first thought was, "Oh my gosh, what if he passes away without my having told him that I love him?"

You see, it's been several years since I have seen my grandparents on that side of my family. Or almost anyone on that side of the family for that matter. I let emotional junk and insecurities get in the way, and then so much time had slipped away that I did not even realize how long it had been.

It's my biological father's side of the family, and I don't have a relationship with him at all, and have not for most of my life. But I did grow up knowing my grandparents, aunts, uncle, and cousins. And I loved them because they always seemed to love and accept me no matter what I had going on.

I could try to explain it all to you, but I don't know that it would make sense. I was trying to tell Deputy D about it today after we saw everyone at the hospital because he had questions, but he finally told me just to forget it because I was making his head hurt.

I have always felt awkward and unsure of where I fit into the family because I don't have a relationship with He Who Shall Not Be Named, and because I feel like they won't understand why I have a hard time letting go of the issues I have with him. But the biggest problem is that I had a huge falling out with the person in the family that I was closest to.

It was bad and ugly and painful for everyone. Now that we know what we know about Little Man, some of what happened makes sense but even with that, I don't know that the relationship can ever be healed. We have both changed and grown apart, and it makes me sad because she was one of the most important people in my life.

That falling out affected my relationship with the whole family, and I can totally understand that. After all, she spends way more time with them than I do because she grew up with them. And I can see how it would have affected everything because, like I said, it was very ugly and very painful.

I wish I could just turn things back and make it right. And I can honestly say I regret letting all the time pass without growing the relationship with the whole clan. Because I would be devastated if anything had happened to PawPaw Sam without him knowing that I love him or without having had the opportunity to say goodbye.

But it's not just them... Deputy D and I both have many sides of the family that we don't get to see very often or spend much time with, and it bothers us. We know our grandparents are aging faster than anyone is comfortable with, and most of the time health problems come right along with the aging. We have such a crazy schedule and so many issues we are dealing with, that we don't know how we can do anything differently. But we know we need to try.

Because that feeling I felt this morning, it was one of the most terrible things I have felt in a long time. And I don't want to have to ever feel it again. If and when anything happens to anyone that I love, I don't want to have to wonder whether or not they knew how much I loved them and how important they were to me.

So don't wait to make things right with someone you care about, and take a few minutes to call someone you love that you haven't spoken with in a while. Because you never know what tomorrow holds.

The Dad He Didn't Have to Be

Happy Father's Day to each and every Dad out there!!

Looking back over the years, I realize that my Dad probably doesn't know what an important role he has played in my life.  For starters, he chose to be my dad.  Most dads don't get the freedom to choose whether or not they want to be a child's father.  They just get whatever kiddo pops out and that God has chosen to give them.

But several years after my mom and dad got married, he made the choice to adopt me.  It's kind of funny because the judge told him that he could leave my mom and everything else behind if they ever split up, but he had to take me with him because by making the choice to become my dad, he was stuck with me until one of us croaks.  Also, he can write everyone out of his will if he so chooses, but not me!

Oh boy, he surely did not know what he was getting himself into.

I am persnickety and stubborn and opinionated, and I wonder how much of that showed when I was little.  My dad, bless him, loves me anyway.  Once, when I was very small and before anyone had the sense to make kids ride in the backseat or put them in child safety seats, I was riding next to him in the front seat and opened the door while the car was moving.  I don't really know why I did it.  I just remember looking at the door handle, wondering what would happen if I pushed down on it, and then deciding to go ahead and try it out.

Thing is... I never felt scared.  Lord knows I probably should have.  The door could have come swinging back and hit me or I could have fallen out, but Dad had a firm grip on my leg and I never for a second thought that he would let go or let anything happen to me.

Throughout the years, on our numerous trips to the beach, Dad would pull me out to the water on a float and stay with me for hours, watching for sharks or jellyfish and keeping the current from pulling me away.  I loved being out there with him, and was never scared that anything bad was going to get me.

According to my dad, I won his heart when I crawled up into his lap for the first time and fell asleep.  He won my heart just by always being there for me and taking care of every single little problem I ever had, no matter how silly it might have seemed to him.

Don't tell him, but sometimes when we would get home from long car trips at night when I was little, I would pretend to be asleep so that he would carry me in.

In elementary school, Dad worked on oil rigs and would be gone for extended periods of time.  Once, after an enthusiastic round of jumping on the bed (yes, there is a reason parents tell you not to do it), I fell off and hit my head on a a hope chest and cut it pretty badly.  I was panicked, mostly because everyone was freaking out that I had busted my head open, and I wanted my dad.  But he was gone.  And I was inconsolable.  There was no calming me down, I wanted my dad and I wanted him right then.  Mom even called our pastor over to try and calm me down (he did have EMT training and we were pretty far away from an emergency room, so maybe that was the reason).  Everyone thought that would work because he was a Clark Kent doppelganger and I had a huge crush on him (I really was convinced he was superman), but even that did not work.  They had to get my dad on the phone to talk to me before I would calm down enough for them to make sure I was not bleeding to death.  Because Dad makes everything better.

Oh, and there is his magic shed.  I swear this shed has the same spell put on it as Hermione's magic bag.  I remember so many times growing up, where he would say "Oh, I've got one of those in my shed" or "I think I've got something to fix this with" and would walk out to the shed and come back with the desired item.  Every time!!  No matter what I broke or lost or messed up, he always seemed to be able to repair it or come up with the solution to the problem.

I can't tell you how many times he has untangled my necklaces or fixed my car or moved me from one place to another... I could go on and on and on.  Even now, when my problems are much bigger and so much harder to solve, I know that all I have to do is call him and he will do whatever he can to help me.  He has sacrificed so much and given so much.  I will never be able to return the favor or make him understand how grateful I am.

And then there is Deputy D.  They say that girls tend to marry someone just like their father.  I don't know about that, but I do know that Deputy D has stepped up to the plate and chosen to be the best Dad to Little Man that anyone could be.  He loves him so much, and tries to make up for all the bad that Little Man has to deal with.  And Little Man looks up to him and admires him, and he tries to be like him when he thinks no one is looking.

Deputy D may not know how to fix everything that we break, and he spends a lot of time on the phone with my dad asking his opinion on things.  I hear Dad laughing in the background saying, "That sounds about right.  Good luck with that, son."  I think Dad learned his tricks and trade secrets on his own, and is confident that Deputy D will as well.

I just want both of them to know today that I love them and I admire them, and I am grateful for everything they have done, and I am sure that they will continue to do (because I really do break a lot of stuff and have a lot of problems).

Truthful Tuesday - Can You Look Me In The Eyes?

I have alluded several times to the issues that Little Man has been having.  I haven't gone into great detail, mostly because, until recently, we did not really have an idea of what has been going on with him.  And no parent wants to admit that there is anything wrong with their child.

We first noticed some oddities back in daycare.  For the most part, Little Man was a normal, strong-willed, amazing child.  Every once in a while, however, the daycare owner would pull me aside and tell me about his day and what she noticed that concerned her.  However, the conversation always ended with "But he is too young to be concerned about anything, I just wanted to make you aware of what we are seeing."

Little Man never wanted to play in groups, he was always by himself or with the one and only boy he had bonded with.  Keep in mind that it was not a bonding of personalities.  The only thing they really had in common was that they were both pretty much obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine.  And I do mean obsessed.  Where as the other little kiddos commented on the color and might know the name of the engine, Little Man knew the engine's history, strengths, weaknesses, physical details, and similarities and differences from all the other engines.  We couldn't just have one or two of the toys for him to play with, we had to hunt down every single one that was currently being manufactured.

In class, Little Man seldom participated in group activities or lessons.  At first, the teachers were convinced that he was not absorbing any of the information being taught as he was always over in a corner doing his own thing and seemingly not paying attention to his surroundings.  However, later that day he would repeat, verbatim, everything that had been taught in the lesson earlier.

We had other issues... Intense tantrums, emotional breakdowns over really minor issues, severe emotional outbursts, really picky eating (He doesn't really like mashed potatoes or macaroni and cheese.  What kid do you know that doesn't like those childhood staples??), strange quirks with his clothes fitting a certain way, sometimes not knowing how to react in social situations, not realizing how other children expect him to react, not realizing when family or friends were upset, slowly developing motor skills (he is 8 and just now learned to ride a bike, long after everyone else his age in the neighborhood), excess amounts of energy and the inability to sit still, not looking directly at us when we are trying to have a conversation with him, getting along better with adults than other children, extremely complex thought patterns, a superior vocabulary, being extremely rigid and not willing to give or be flexible, a frequent inability to concentrate on the task before him... Just to name a few.

We decided to wait until he started kindergarten to see how it went before we approached his pediatrician.  After all, many of these traits are common with children and how much of it was indicative of a problem and was not just growing pains or my lack of parenting experience?  Kindergarten started, and we had notes (well, books really) sent home almost every day for the first few weeks.  We requested to have him moved to another class just in case there was a conflict with the teacher.  Best decision ever.  His teacher was the most wonderful person we have met within the school to date.  She was patient and understanding, and most of all, kept in constant communication with me.

We finally broke down and talked to his pediatrician and he was tested for ADHD.  His test scores indicated that was what was wrong with him and he was put on medicine.  This did help.  It calmed him down and he was not in so much trouble and was actually able to complete projects at school.  There are side effects to the medication which I hate, but it seemed to help him have an overall improved quality of life.

Then came the fatal parent-teacher conference that I will never forget.  We met with his teacher who proceeded to tell us that academically, Little Man was light years ahead of where he needed to be.  However, she had some serious concerns.  He got stuck on little things and could not get past them.  For example, he had to have his own container of crayons because if he could not find the particular pink crayon that he was looking for, he would go through every bucket and freak out if someone else was using it or if he could not find it.  He ended up having to be moved to a table by himself because he just could not handle the social interaction or distractions caused by having other people around him.

Then came the words I will never forget.  "I am not a doctor, and I certainly do not have any authority to diagnose anything, but I think there is a possibility that he is showing signs of being on the autism spectrum."

Time stopped for a moment.  That is not even possible.  Not my son.  For the most part, he can function normally.  He can speak and communicate and dress himself.  He reads and writes (well, sort of) and no, he doesn't really like to color or play with other kids, but he's still really young.  You would never look at him and automatically think there was something wrong with him.  Almost everyone that he meets says he is one of the smartest kids that they have ever encountered.

But....

There is always a "but" isn't there?  I started thinking about everything that we had experienced in daycare.  I started thinking about how I hated taking him new places because I was never sure how he was going to react or what he was going to say.  I started thinking about how I dreaded having to take him places like big church or the movies, where he always seemed completely unaware that he was supposed to whisper or sit still, no matter how many times I told him.  I started thinking about how I was scared to leave him with people, because I didn't know how he was going to react or if this would be one of the nights that he decided to start sobbing and have a meltdown because one of his toys wouldn't do what he thought it should.

And yet, we still did nothing.  We talked to his pediatrician at his next checkup, but she dismissed the concerns quickly because she feels like there are an overabundance of autism diagnoses being handed out today.  She did acknowledge that there was something else going on with him besides the ADHD, and recommended that we get him in to see a child psychologist.

It took us until second grade to request that he be tested for autism by the school district.  He was still struggling socially in school.  He has almost no friends because he only wants to play whatever he is into at the moment (this year he has been obsessed with Star Wars and Bakugan), and never plays whatever the group is playing (i.e. kickball).  He gets picked on constantly, because he has such an intense reaction to it.  He is a bully's dream-come-true as far as that goes.  He argues with the teachers, because he thinks he knows more than they do.

But the last straw for me was that he was failing schoolwork.  My bright little man, who has almost worked his way though the Harry Potter series in second grade and can explain to me how a tornado forms in the atmosphere was failing work.  There are multiple reasons for this.  He has a severe handwriting issue that needs to be worked on.  He cannot handle timed projects or projects that have multiple little steps because everything has to be just right and just a certain way.  He gets stuck on directions if they are not worded just the way he thinks they need to be.  He can tell time and knows time of day, but seems to have no concept of how much time has actually passed or when it is time to move on to something else.

The test results just came back last week, and he tested as having a high probability of being on the Autism Spectrum and having Asperger's Syndrome.  I have not completely wrapped my head around all of this yet, even though I was expecting those results.  Part of me feels like I should be relieved now that I know what is going on with him and that it could be much, much worse, but part of me still thinks that there could not possibly be anything wrong with him and he is just having a hard time with life.  It is a really, really difficult thing to sit in a room and listen to people talk about your child having a disability and discuss how to keep him in mainstream class as much as possible with his non-disabled peers.

We have a plan in place for the next school year that I really think is going to help him succeed and have a much easier year than the last two.  Everyone was kind and patient and seemed to really want him to be as successful as everyone knows that he can be.  They are going to help Deputy D and I learn how to deal with Little Man in a way that his unique brain can process and understand, and help us learn how to teach him to deal with the outside world.  He is still going to be seeing the psychologist just to make sure that there is nothing else going on and that the psychologist agrees with the test results.

Most of all, I have a great support network.  I have caring friends and family that love Little Man and me unconditionally and no matter what.  And the school will be providing resources for me to learn more about Little Man's condition and how to be the best parent to him that I can be.

I am trying really hard to move forward and start working on the things that I can implement now to help him cope better.  Part of me wants to argue and cry and stomp my feet and say "You are wrong, there is nothing wrong with my kid.  Everyone else is the problem, but he is fine!"  Part of me just wants to ignore the problem and eventually it has to go away.  Right?

But the grown-up part of me knows that this is nothing compared to what some other parents are having to deal with and we will get past it and do our best to love and support Little Man the best we can.  I just ask that you be patient with me until I do have my emotions completely under control and have a good handle on the situation.  I know that God will help me get through this, just like he has everything else in my life.  And once I have everything under control again, hopefully I will be able to get back to all my crafts for Make Something Mondays and all of my recipe testing to share with everyone.  For now, there might be a bit more rambling than anything else on the blog.