Hope I did the right thing . . .

My motives were pure. I waited until today to tell my kids about Aunt Becky passing away. The time seemed right. We spent a week at Vacation Bible School and they were fresh full of Jesus so I told them. We listened to her music in the car. She had a CD she made at CafePress. One of the songs, which I will post later, is called Stories. Well I have heard it many times but never really listened you know? It has a line in it that says "Some stories just end before they unfold" or something like that. How profound and prophetic. She really had a way with words and the more I listen to it the more I realize that I did not give her near enough credit for being such a great guitar player. The woman just picked it up one day and decided to teach herself, she never had a lesson in her life. Her songs became increasingly complex in chords and melodies that were wonderful even if I didn't always get the words. A lot of it was autobiographical. Anyway, after I told the kids and we talked about going to heaven and how she would be there waiting on us I found a CD she made for the quads first birthday. She never had money but she always had something for them. I haven't listened to it in years and the first song on the album is a Lullaby she wrote just for them and it really tugs at my heart now that she is gone. I want to link it here but not sure how. I will try. In July I will go up to my parents home in the mountains and finally go through her few remaining possessions. I think that is when I will finally be able to cry. As for my kids, they cried when they heard the lullaby because she says in it that if they ever need her, she will be right there. They asked me if they could write her notes and tie them to balloons to send them up to Heaven. I thought that was a great idea since they weren't involved in the funeral, so we will be doing that tomorrow. Six year olds shouldn't have to learn about death this early but I know they aren't the first and sadly aren't the last.

So she thinks she can dance . . .

*** Warning - do NOT watch this if your bladder is full.

She is unabashedly unique. Nothing more needs to be said about my Bunny.!

Have a great day!

The Wisdom of a Child

Tonight Doodle was overstimulated. She always has trouble winding down to sleep and those of you who have or know a child with Autism probably know what I mean. Yes the experts say, they need a routine, blah blah blah. Well routine shmootine - IT DON'T WORK. Our routine is in place for the rest of the quads but with her, it all depends on so many variables during the day and now that we are Potty training (big Yay!!) it is even more interesting. So she was bouncing off the walls with no thought of drifting off to the Land of Nod. So we went outside, on the deck and turned the lights off. We sat on the steps, her in my lap, counting stars and feeling that wonderful early summer nighttime breeze - light and cool, yet not chilly at all. Star-gazing, watching airplanes and the trees swaying gently. We were just absorbed in all the goodness of God's world.
Finally, I told her we needed to go inside so we did. No sooner had I sat down than she came to me and grabbed my hand, pointing to the window, and pulling on my she says, "Night- Stars"

This is AMAZING to me.
She's six and she's just begun to do things that my 15 month old is about to embark on. The things you take for granted with typical kids, like sharing an enjoyable activity or having them point to something they want you to see with them, bringing you a book they like, these are all things that kids with autism have trouble with. Heartbreakingly absent in the parent-child relationship of a child with moderate to severe autism. So when it does happen out of the blue you immediately ask yourself the following-
*How did this just happen? (Did she really just say that to me?)
*What caused this to happen? (Have I fed her something different, are the supplements working?, etc.)
*Is she "recovering"? (unlikely)
*Will it ever happen again or was it a fluke?
I am cautiously optimistic. These moments are treasures and I store them away incase it does not happen again.
My precious sweet little girl wanted to share something with me that made her happy! This is such a struggle for these kids and in fact a very early indicator of a problem. When your toddler doesn't bring things to you or point at things they want you to see, red flags should pop out. Denial never helped a child with a developmental delay. I remember the exact moment I realized she wasn't doing these things. Probably around the age of one. I think my husband and I both came to our own similar conclusions about Doodle long before we actually discussed it out loud.
But back to our evening, so I decided we would go back outside, but we went out to the front porch with the incentive being avoidance of big hairy Golden who likes to knock me down each time I open the back door. Well, boy, we were rewarded.
A bright, clear half-moon looked down on us like it had been hung, perfectly centered in front of our house. I nearly gasped. It was so lovely. I looked around. The night air was soft and the view from the gentle hill our house sits atop was like a storybook page.
She sat in my lap and started jabbering again. I mentioned some frogs singing nearby. Many times she seems to make up words or at least I can't understand them. This time, however, I did. Clear as day, I heard my little girl saying,

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful world."

Absolutely Doodle -
You got that right. . .

Observations of a Redneck: Becky

Observations of a Redneck: Becky

How my baby makes me laugh

*** Disclaimer**** - Lest some of you think I am heartless or in denial please know that I have a blog on my sister in the works but it is heavy and sad and right now I need funny so when my little man sat on my head last night and laughed I thought hmmm . . . maybe I will do the funny until I am ready to write the sad. If you don't know me personally, my older sister passed away last week suddenly and I will write more about that later, she was only 39, that is far too young to leave the world.



How My Baby Makes Me Laugh . . .

He sits on my head with his big old pajama clad behind and starts playing with a toy , like this is the most normal of spots to perch, he did laugh though so I think he secretly knew it was funny. Hmm, he likes to think he's funny, wonder where he gets that from???

If I lay on the floor, he uses my body like a piece of gymnastics equipment.

He likes to blow zerberts on any and all exposed flesh that he can reach so watch out if you come over - he doesn't care who it is. He once caught me just above my jeans on my back as I was squatting down to clean the toilet. Talk about a surprise you weren't expecting.

He likes to look at me right before he does one of the things he knows he is not supposed to do just to see if I am paying attention, like climbing on the fireplace, in fact he makes baby noises and calls attention to himself until I catch him doing said activity so I will come over and pick him up to move him. Manipulative little dude.

He likes to play the "Hold my arms out to other adults then psych! Immediately turn back around and hold them out for mom again" game.

When he really likes something he throws one hand in the air, looks up and says GA!! I have yet to figure out what that really means?

He thinks he is six years old like his siblings

He is extremely physically capable and I don't know if that should delight or terrify me!?

He already has a favorite book - Baby's First Word Book, isn't that a Henry James?

He has the cutest, biggest behind I have ever seen on a baby.

He likes to make this face when you, never mind I can't describe it in words you'd have to see it. It is a face that is far too intense for a 15 month old to pull off, he learned it by copying his siblings, it makes them laugh too.

It is this stuff that gets me through the day. It is why I still love him at 2 AM when he is screaming for no apparent reason for the third time in a night. It is the benefit of extra fun in my life that has never for a second made me regret having a fifth baby when everyone in my life except my husband, mom a couple of very close friends thought I was crazy.

That's the good stuff . . .

Becky

This is my sister Becky, she was 39. She passed away this week. I miss her already. I want to post her eulogy here but I have to figure out how to do it. I am not a techno guru. I will get to it sooner or later. I am still not ready to write a long sad post but I am getting there. For those of you who didn't know her let me just fill you in a bit.





She was older than me by 20 months. She was 39. That is way too young to die. I am the second and then I have a younger sister and a younger brother. My mom had all four of us with in 5 years. I did the opposite five in four years, well okay it was more like 4 in 5 minutes and then one more five years later :)


Do you ever look at people around you who have things like this happen, a death of a very close relative, or some other horrible thing and think that those kinds of things just don't happen to you? I was one of those people, now I am on the other side. Its so very weird. It gives you a completely different perspective on life. Not better or worse I guess, just different. Its like you've been looking at a picture from the same angle and height for years and then you climb up on a ladder and see it looks absolutely different than you imagined. Does that make any sense?


Well speaking for "those people who have these things happen to them" perspective changing events come to all of us at some point in our lives but it isn't necessarily always from a tragic situation such as mine, it can also come from beautiful wonderful events like the birth of four babies at one time or one baby four times? Any babies, babies bring tons of perspective changing magic with them when they enter the world. Love the babies, don't want anymore, well more like can't afford anymore and need a nanny. Becky was a nanny by the way, back to my original intent with this post. It'll make you dizzy - I know, my stream of consciousness writing style tonight is free therapy for me so feel free to click out to something more, hmm, well predictable. So Becky was a nanny, a great one, for 15 or more years. She learned after the first family not to get too terribly attached to the kids. Her first assignment was somewhere in New Jersey and she told me that she still had dreams about the cute little boy and his family. It hurt her not to have him in her life anymore, I wonder if she knows that I now understand that all too well. Becky was creative, intelligent, scary, annoyingly weird, hilarious and frustrating. She was just my sister but I know other people saw her differently. It bothered me when she all of a sudden decided new people in her life would call her Rebecca instead of Becky or Bec as I called her, but I guess she just wanted a grown up name.


There time for a new paragraph. My English teachers would have a ball with a red pen on this piece of work. Becky liked music that I just didn't get like Tori Amos - yuck if you put me in a room with that music on I would complain of illegal torture tactics. I am sure she is a nice person but all that melodramatic whiny muck grates on my nerves. Anything that reeks of co dependence or angst is a deal-breaker to me, that includes people. I believe Becky knew that about me and respectfully hid some of hers from me. Does that make me cold? I don't know, I just know that I have joy in my life, joy of living a normal life (well, that's debatable) Joy from being kinda conventional and conservative and not doing drugs etc :) Joy in watching my children grow up in a stable predictable environment year after year which I know could be snatched up at any moment and so I remember to thank God for each day we have together in this world. I guess that gives you enough to chew on for the moment. I will tell you more about her funny escapades one day soon. She was a hoot. I will miss that most of all. Love you Bec.

One thing . . . leads to another

I was forced to clean my house all last week because my quads had their classmates party on Sunday. Now I have awful carpets and nothing can make them better except ripping them out to get new ones but we just aren't quite there yet. But I scrubbed the floor, the baseboards, windows, bathroom, the kitchen, and even the playroom. I dusted and mopped, swept and did all the things that I normally don't get to on a regular basis. What I have found is that when you start cleaning up one area of your home that leads to another and then another because once you get one cleaned up you realize just how awful the other parts look in comparison! But here is a typical clean up session for me, maybe it will be make you laugh but it is accurate and the truth -I get up and down a big coffee because it gets my blood moving and gets me out of "sit around in pj's eating breakfast mode (note: I still eat, I just move while I am doing it, I have never been and never will be a breakfast skipper , pshaw - AS IF?) Then I have to feed everyone and change two diapers. Then I tackle the have to's - dishes and laundry, meanwhile something in the kitchen catches my eye, it is my daughter who has been bugging me for three days to paint her toenails pink , painting her own toenails pink - everything screeches to a halt "Mouse, you know you can't do that by yourself "
Her "but mommy you said you would and you kept saying you would and you still hafent done it!"
Okay, she's right and I kinda HAFE to live up to my promises don't I?
"Allright sweetie, hang on." I finish up whatever I am doing and start doing something else that catches my eye and I hear this faint voice "Mommy you aren't doing it yet?!" Oh yea right - arrrgggghhh!
Well lets see, I half way sit in the chair in front of her, well almost, I do a hover squat but then have to stand up because I notice her toenails are too long and ragged so I have to go find the clippers which will also require the trash can to put clippings in so I go dig the clippers out and make mental note to dump and sort junk drawer someday soon. Then I grab the trash can and notice it is full to the top so I put it down, I put the clippers down, I go to the pantry to get a new liner, I have to unrig the homemade baby proofing (headband and a chip clip) on the doors. Get the liner, change it out then take trash bag to garage, notice there are three bags already out there waiting to go to the trash can outside, so I take them all and then think while I am out there, "I should just go ahead and get the mail." Oooh I better run back and shut the door so the baby doesn't fall out. I get the mail and start to look through it. Get irritated at same old junk. Make mental note to throw out the last four issues of the same catalog I get every week and have never ordered from but for some reason have a hard time letting go of. On the way back up the driveway I notice some onions and other weeds sprouting in my soon to be filled with Gerber Daisys flower beds (Yay Perinneals! ) Pull 'em. Toggle between leaving weeds in driveway to dry up like my dad taught me or picking them up in a garbage bag to throw away like husband likes , decide husbands way would require yet another side trip to get a new bag so I leave them on driveway which irritates husband who later throws them back in flower beds which I find to be very counterproductive passive aggressivy! Then remember CRAP I am supposed to be painting daughters toenails, how the hell did I end up obsessing about weeds! I run back inside and slow down to open the door because there is usually a baby, sometimes mad, waiting on the other side. There is so I have to do this sortof slow dance thing trying to ease the door open enough to push the baby gently enough to move him but not enough for him to fall down while moving. Then I shimmey around the door like you have to do when you are trying to get into a stupid public bathroom stall thinking to yourself, "I am an average sized person and there is no comfortable way to get in here without putting a foot in the toilet in order to shut the door!! What do the plus sized people do? Aarrgghh!"
So anyway, I finally get back in the house, aiming for the little girl awaiting a pedicure when I smell something peculiar , yep, budgie has done a boo boo in his pants as we like to say around here. So I head for the bathroom and locate diapers and wipes, which must be refilled so I do that and notice the trash can is overflowing so I do that and then notice son is playing in toilet water so gross! I scoop him up and wash his hands while he fusses. Then I have to change him and that requires another trip to the garage where the diaper champ awaits smelly and full, that needs changing too!!!!! Nope not touching it, DH can do it when he gets home. So I set the offensive article on top of the diaper champ and head back in, baby in tow. Set him down and pause with brain freeze for a moment - I am supposed to be . . . hmm, see exasperated daughter staring at me holding nail polish and practicing her best imitative Zoey 101 eyeroll , 5 year olds should not be that good at that yet! "Mom - toes - polish!" Oh crap, yes toes, polish "coming!" I say and I clip, polish, sweep, wash hands. Flop on the couch - mission accomplished.
"Mom I-am-so hungry -I-wanna-eat-NOW!" comes another voice
Oh well, I will get to sit down when I am like 58 and then I have a feeling I will never get up again. Now aren't you exhausted after reading all that? It was hard reliving it just to write it all down, but I will never miss the chance to make you laugh and appreciate your own life, so there. Have a good night and don't ever ask me to paint your toes.