My little shopper

After living in my house for a year, I've finally decided that it's time to start decorating it like someone lives here.  Thus, my need for curtain rods.  First of all, I suck at decorating, so trying to figure out what I want is a challenge.  But how hard can CURTAIN RODS be?  Husband has the day off so we decide to go take Little Monster to the store to pick out curtain rods.  We'll go to Ross and see if they have anything, and if not, Lowes it is.

For the most part I LOVE LOVE LOVE to shop (if I'm alone), but let me be honest--I hate Ross.  This whole "looking for treasures" is a bunch of crap.  My brain isn't wired to look for treasures; however, my brain is wired to see $9.99 curtain rods and decide that is better than the $32.99 curtain rods at Lowes--especially since I need two. ($20 or $65--I'm willing to treasure hunt for 3 minutes).  Husband, Monster and I walk into Ross, and Aaron immediately has an agenda.  My agenda outranks his, so we drag him through the store and find curtain rods that will work (for $9.99 each--nice).  Being the nice mom that I am, I decide to let him take me to where he wants to go--the toy aisles. Husband goes to one end of the aisle and I take the other so we've got him blocked off and he can't go bolting through the store.  It only takes him a minute to come up with this:

I'm so proud! Really!

I'm laughing and think this is absolutely hilarious, and who can refuse that face, so I let him take his treasures to the checkout.  Husband is looking at me like I'm crazy, and I'm like, "what?"  He says, "you're going to let him get all of that?"  I reply, "hey-they are toys.  Our son wants to play with toys.  Come on, let's get them."  Who can refuse me?  So we're standing in line, and he spots a package of Jelly Bellies.  "I want candy"  Ugh.  "I want jelly bean"  Awe.....so of course we HAD to get those too.  I pay for our "treasures"...IT WOULD HAVE BEEN CHEAPER TO GO TO LOWES.  This is why I don't take him shopping with me. 

The funny thing is, he picked out this piece of junk Transformers "laptop" (which even though I knew it was a piece of junk I still bought it for him--how's that for good parenting).  As it turns out, today he showed us on that junky "laptop" that he could type all sorts of things (most of which we knew he could, but he surprised us by spelling our names).  When Husband got home from work tonight I gave Aaron the "laptop" and told him to spell Cameron.  It didn't look like he was going to do it so I said, "c....a...."--which he typed and then ignored me and finished with "ndy".  Ha ha ha ha!  That kid makes me laugh!

Fishing for fishies

I'd like to say that the reason I haven't posted in months is that my ball of trouble is no longer trouble; however, that is not the case.  I've thought about posting often, but haven't been able due to terminally ill parents.  Well, we're back.  I'm hoping I can get to my storytelling again and make you all feel better about your lives.  Here goes.

Tonight I went to my first support group meeting for parents of children with disabilities.  I have never ever had a desire to do such a thing, but it was the first night and I volunteered our church to host it, so I figured I'd better go.  It was actually a good night, and the most repeated comment was "I just want to be somewhere where other people 'get it'.  That I can tell them what my kid is doing and they won't judge me".  I'm so glad there is a safe place for them to do that, and I promise I won't be telling you any of their stories.  It's ironic that as soon as I get home from my first support group meeting, with people who just want to be around other moms who "get it", that my sweet monster gave me another notch on my belt.  Seriously people--you can't make this stuff up.

I come home and Aaron is still awake (it's 10:30 PM mind you).  He has confiscated my laptop and is in his bedroom with a bowl of goldfish crackers watching one second of a YouTube clip of Baby Neptune over and over and over...obviously it's late and it's time for him to go to bed, so being the responsible parent that I am, I tell him it's bedtime.  The next two minutes unfold like this.

Me: "Aaron, it's time to go to bed.  Let's go potty and brush your teeth."  We walk to the bathroom.  Stop reading right now if you have a weak stomach. 

Let me first quickly back up.  Aaron has been neglecting to pay attention and "aim" while he's going to the bathroom, so we've had to back up and actually follow him into the bathroom and give him the direction "pay attention".  Seriously?  He's 11. 

Anyhow.  We walk to the bathroom and he's carrying his bowl of fish crackers.  He walks up to the toilet and I go to take the bowl of goldfish crackers from him as he's standing over the toilet.  He won't let go of them so I say to myself "fine, he can hold them, it's not that big of a deal".  True to the way we roll in this house, he accidentally drops the entire bowl into the toilet.  I was on top of my game (or so I thought), so I immediately grab the bowl out of the toilet (thankfully he hadn't actually started going yet) and flush it because I know what was going to happen and I didn't want him grabbing fish crackers out of the toilet.  As the fishies are going down the drain, he decides he going to help them on their journey by peeing on them.  Fine.  Well...ummmm....this is the part where I'm not on top of my game.  He grabs the bowl he dropped into the toilet (that I had put on the tank) and drinks the toilet water that was left in it!  I'm grossed out, and calmly rip it out of his hands and say "gross"!  I know, I know, you're not supposed to react--but COME ON!   You know how the toilet bowl drains, and then fills back up again?  The toilet fills back up and some of the fishies come back up...so naturally he reaches into the toilet to grab them out TO EAT THEM!  NASTY!  I was able to grab his hand after he stuck it in the water, but before he was able to get one of those fishies in his hot little hands.  I'm standing there helpless.  I've got a toilet water contaminated bowl in one hand, Aaron's hand in my other hand, and I can't flush the toilet again because it's still filling back up with water!  Aaron is trying to squirm out of my death grip to grab the crackers, and I'm rattling the handle to get those suckers down!  Needless to say, I got him out of there, had him wash his hands, brush his teeth and off to bed!  It took FOUR flushes before the toilet was free and clear of the crackers.

And THAT is how I ended my day! 

Humility

There are very few places like church that provide wonderful opportunities for humility.  While going to the store with Aaron often turns head with people judging me for all sorts of reasons, I don't have to see those people every single week.  I have fairly thick skin, but there is still a little part of me that would like to put on a front that I am a good mother who doesn't let her children leave the house looking like Pig-Pen from the comic strip Peanuts.  Is this too much to ask?  Apparently it is.  Let me back up for a moment.  If you've been reading this blog, you know that ANY functional language should be rewarded IMMEDIATELY by doing what is requested.  We have also been working very hard on answer questions with "yes or no" (more importantly choosing which of those words he wants, and not answering the question with the phrase "yes or no"!!!)  Over the past 3 days Aaron has made some pretty cool gains by answering yes and no questions appropriately, and making brand new requests (with words he hasn't used before) that we have acted on.  Fast forward to this morning.  I wake Aaron up and tell him to get dressed for church.  Naturally he goes for the nasty, pizza smeared clothes he wore yesterday.  Our conversation goes like this:

Me: (Taking the dirty shirt away from him)  No honey.  You can't wear this shirt today.  It's dirty.

Monster: Shirt.

Me: (Quite happy that he has correctly identified the object in my hands, as he has never done this before, but still standing my ground).  You can't wear this one.  It's dirty.  How about this one? (Holding up another shirt).

Monster: (He takes the shirt out of my hand and puts it back in the drawer, and then tries to grab the dirty Captain America shirt out of my other hand).  Shirt.

Me: (Standing my ground.  So I put the DIRTY Captain America shirt between my legs and pick out two other shirts.  I hold them up.)  Your shirt is dirty.  Which shirt do you want to wear, this one or this one?

Aaron:  Dirty!

I've been defeated.  This boy has never verbally told me that he wants to wear his dirty nasty clothes (although he has let me know in screeching and whining in the past).  So I have to go by the "rules" and let him wear the nasty, dirty, pizza sauce smeared shirt.  I figure I would outsmart him by having him put a sweatshirt over the shirt and then people wouldn't see the nastiness.  I tell him he needs to put on a sweatshirt, and he does.  As we're walking into church I see that the stupid sweatshirt is dirtier than his shirt!  And so, I walk into the doors of church with Pig-Pen.  The only thing we were missing was his nasty blanket and my pride.

It's been a while

Well hello again--it's been a while.  I think about writing often; however, life has been a little crazy around here.  Both of my parents have ended up critically ill within days of each other, so my siblings and I are taking care of them as well as our own families.  This whole "sandwich generation" crap is ridiculous!  ANYHOW....I've had a few stories that I've wanted to write about but haven't had the time/energy to get it out.  Well.  The other night kicked me in the butt with a story that I just HAD to write about.

I went over to a friend's house for wine, snacks and a visit.  I left about 8:15 (PM--I at least wait until the evening-ish to enjoy a nice glass of wine), and asked my daughter and her friend to put The Little Monster to bed at 8:30 for me.  15 minutes.  No problems.  Right. 

8:42pm--phone call from daughter.  I hear some sort of noise in the background, and I can't tell if it's crying or laughing.  I'm worried. 
Daughter: "Mom.  I have two things to tell you."
Me: "What's wrong?"
Daughter: "Well, there are two things.  First of all J*** (friend) and I put on a pomegranate face mask and it burns--"
Me (interrupting and possibly agitated): "Well wash it off."  (I was going to add "stupid" to the end of the sentence, but caught myself as I remembered that 13/14 year-olds lack common sense, so it was unreasonable for me to expect her to problem solve something this difficult).  "What else?  What's wrong?"
Daughter: "Well, I put Aaron to bed like you told me to, and he didn't want to go.  He went to his room whining.  He kept whining and then about 20 minutes later he was banging on his door.  I put him back to bed and he was mad.  All of a sudden Cameron (brother) came running upstairs asking us if we knew what Aaron was doing.  Cameron was walking toward the house and saw Aaron push the screen out of his window, and was throwing his toys out of the window (which happens to be on the second story)."


At this point two things are going through my head: 1. That's hilarious!  I totally wish I could have seen it.  I can only imagine what was going through his head.  2.  Holy Crap!  What if he jumps out the window???


Me: Call your father (who happens to be 30 seconds away) and then call me back.


The remainder of the evening I exchanged phone calls and texts with both of my children so I could stay on top of the situation.  Husband came home and was able to put Aaron to bed without incident.  I'll admit I didn't sleep as well that night because I was worried that he would jump out the window to escape in protest--he didn't.  Whew!

I'm the favorite

I'm not gonna lie, I LOVE being the favorite.  It stems from being the favorite child in my family.  (Ok, well maybe that's not entirely true--the part about me being the favorite).  Since it didn't work in my family, I tried to tell my father-in-law that I was his favorite.  He agrees (with a stipulation), but he adds "oldest" into it--so I'm his favorite "oldest" daughter-in-law, guess I'm not the favorite there either.  What's with all of this equality business anyway?  Just like there is sibling rivalry (in order to be at the top of the parental favoritism list), I would argue that there is spousal rivalry as well.  (I think I'm going to see if they will include that as a disorder in the upcoming DSM V).  Even though adults should be mature enough to not play the "favorite game", the reality is--I'm not that mature.  It's true.

Yesterday was one of the more precious Aaron days.  It started at school where I attended a crack for kids Valentine's party.  It was the end of the day and I was getting ready to leave.  Aaron grabbed my hand with a death grip that turned my hand white.  I was planning on taking him anyway, but I enjoyed the sweet pain of my hand being crushed because I knew that he wanted me.  It only got better from there.  It wasn't even bed time yet when Aaron said, "Mah, coh hewe" (Mom come here) and grabbed my hand to lead me somewhere.  I stopped my whatever non-important thing I was doing (my euphoria of having him want me erased my memory), and I let him drag me through the house. It turned out that he wanted me to put him to bed, so we went through his bedtime routine, and I left his room a happy "Mah".  Husband, Daughter and I settled down in my bed to watch The Voice when I noticed that his door was open.  I found him and brought him to my room to lay down.  His hot, sweaty body fell asleep during the show, and I subjected myself to the inferno because he was just too sweet.  (Sleeping kids are the best!).  After the show, Husband woke him up to put him to bed (long gone are the days of carrying him anywhere).  They got all the way to his room when I hear "Mah, Mah.  I want Mah."  How can I resist that?  So without gloating too much (ahem), I repeated Aaron's bedtime routine, and both of us fell asleep happy.  

Fast forward to this morning.  [If you've read this blog, you may remember that Husband hates all animals (especially our two golden retrievers).  Hold on to this information--you will need it in a minute.]  It's time for Aaron to get on the bus.  Husband is walking out the door for work, so he yells that he'll take Aaron out to the bus.  Well Aaron doesn't want Husband to take him.  He wants ME to take him (oh yeah baby)!  In the midst of this exchange, Husband leaves the front door open.  Not good.  The golden retrievers seize this amazing opportunity and go FLYING out the front door. Chaos has now ensued.  Luckily(?) the dogs went running onto the bus.  The bus driver grabbed them, and Aaron and I are walking towards the bus.  She sees us coming, so she lets the dogs go.  Son and Daughter come running out to get the dogs, but the dogs have other plans.  They go bolting off down the street.  I know that Husband is most likely pissed at this point (especially since it was his fault--not that I'm assigning blame or anything).  The dogs are headed for the woods, and the kids are running as fast as they can after them.  I'm not sure what my emotions should have been at this moment, but I was quite satisfied that Aaron wanted me to put him on the bus.  Long story short, Husband ended up corralling the dogs in his car, brings them home, and drives to work.  He calls me to let me know how ironic it is that the boy wanted me, and the dogs wanted him (the sarcasm in his voice was thick).  I leave the conversation with a deep sense of gratification--it's going to be a good day.       

Scissors

What did you do this morning?  I bet you didn't spend 20 minutes with a tiny pair of scissors trying to get a tag off of the elastic band on underwear.  Yeah.  I didn't realize when I bought this package of underwear (for Aaron--just for clarification) that they would have tags.  Who puts tags on clothes anymore?  Everything is supposed to be tag-free now.  I can't believe Fruit of the Loom doesn't know this.  Anyhow, thankfully I didn't wait until the last absolute minute to get Aaron dressed for school (not that I've ever done that)--otherwise he may have been ripping his underwear off at school--not cool.  Husband apparently ran into this problem before I did, and his solution was to cut the tag out of the elastic, so now there is a big cut out of the elastic of another pair!  I at least "saved" the elastic from being cut to shreds!

After Aaron got home from school he comes downstairs, whining, saying "scissors, scissors".  I am SO thankful that he didn't find some on his own otherwise there would be one funny looking kid running around! 

Peanut butter saved the day!  He was quite unhappy with the process, trying to wipe the peanut butter out of his hair while I was trying to work it through the gum.  I tried to have as much compassion as possible (which isn't much), but COME ON!  Don't put gum in your hair!  Thankfully the peanut butter worked, and after some apple Suave he was back in business!  Although his hair smelled confusing...Is it apple? Is it peanut butter? Who cares--he only lost a few hairs in the process, and taking scissors to his hair was avoided!

Blogging in the bathroom

Hey that was catchy!
My last 5 minutes in pictures:
I'm sitting all cozy on the couch, eating instant mashed potatoes and wasting my life away on Pinterest (wow that sounds ghetto...where's the trailer park?) when I hear, "coh hewe" (come here). 

I look toward the voice and see a boy with goggles and no shirt.
Me: What do you want?
Aaron: I wah baff. (I want bath)

Me: What do you want? (I'm really asking this to put him off long enough to finish my faux potatoes)
Aaron (a little annoyed): Coh hewe. I wah baff tub.  Cawher. (Come here.  I want bathtub. Collar--his other way to tell me to come here).
Me: Ok, ok.  Just a second.
Aaron: Coh hewe.  Coh hewe. (Come here. Come here.  This time with more emphasis because apparently I didn't get it the first 10 times.)
Me: I KNOW.  HANG ON.
I'm fully expecting him to be naked, but to my surprise he has his swim trunks and goggles on.  I'm beyond thrilled that he decided to come and get me to run a bath for him rather than just doing it himself! So I start the bath.

And in he goes.

Now that his bubbles are gone he's pouring water in his mouth.  Ick.

He's contained and I have a laptop, so I'll sit on the counter and play on Pinterest from here!

Acting like a typical child

I hate mornings.  There is nothing good about being up before 10:00.  Seriously.  Unfortunately Aaron and I don't agree on what an acceptable waking time is.  His idea is somewhere in the 7:00-7:30 range, which is outrageous.  What is even more unfortunate is that the bus arrives about 8:45, and what is even MORE unfortunate than that is that Husband is out of town for the week so I have to get out of bed early.  (I am fortunate that he gets up and helps get Aaron off to school...I need to remember to mention that to him the next time I talk to him..I'll put a reminder on my phone).  ANYHOW.  Tuesday mornings I have to get up early because he has his haircut at 8:00 AM (every week).  Wouldn't it figure that THE ONE MORNING WE HAVE SOMEWHERE TO GO Aaron doesn't want to wake up.  Seriously--why couldn't he do this on a Saturday?  Of course I was running behind because I wanted "just 5 more minutes" of sleep.  When I went into Aaron's room he wasn't awake (at 7:45 and we had to leave in 5 minutes).  So I turned the light on, sat down next to him, rubbed his back and said, "good morning", to which he replied, "night night" and pulled the covers over his head.  I thought this was hilarious, so I kept saying, "good morning" and he kept responding with, "night night".  I finally pulled the covers off of him so that he would maybe get up--which he did.  Luckily he slept in clothes last night so I grabbed his shoes and socks and got him in the car--we were only 5 minutes late.  Not bad!

Don't leave your bags unattended

You know how at the airport they tell you to not leave your bags unattended?  That rule should apply to our house as well.  Husband left on a business trip tonight.  This time he's going to be able to visit his sister, her husband, and our nephews while he's gone, so of course he had to buy the boys some treats from their Uncle Jason.  He went to the dollar store to get them some obnoxious, loud toys (sorry Bethany), and came home with some goods.  When he walked in the door Aaron saw that he was carrying a bag and immediately went over to see if there was anything for him.  He found some candy in the bag, so he tried to steal it.  Husband gave in and gave him a package of candy, and off went a happy boy--but not before he saw me put the remaining contents of the bag into the suitcase.  So when he saw the suitcase unsupervised, it was more temptation than he could bear.  From the other room I heard the sound of a zipper and just knew what was happening.  He was starting to rummage through the suitcase before I stopped him!  When I got to him he gave me this look as if to say, "what"?  :)  I told him to stay out of the suitcase, and he did....for a minute.

CAUGHT RED HANDED!

First day of snow

Aaron loves everything about snow.  I think what he loves the most about the powder is watching it do different things.  He loves to throw it against the fence, kick it around, pee in it (while his cousins were over--awesome), and eat it (hopefully not in that order).  When his trampoline is set up he loves jumping on it and making the snow bounce.  I enjoy watching him play in the snow (from inside...with a hot cup of creamer with some coffee in it).  So when we woke up this morning with the first snow of the season, Aaron went out for some fun.  Oh, and our idea of "snow" is about an inch that melts by the end of the day...that counts though, right? Now let's look at the bright side first.  He put on appropriate clothes (yay for firsts!).  He actually had long pants, a sweatshirt AND shoes on--this is a big deal for us!  Now for the "Aaron part" of snow.  I'm all for kids playing in the snow; HOWEVER, we have two dogs, and just because there is snow on the ground doesn't mean that what is under the snow goes away (if you know what I mean).  So when Aaron decided to do this, I may have thrown up in my mouth a little:

In addition to a fun-filled day of snow, I am trying to paint some of the rooms of our house.  Today my project was the hallway and the kitchen.  It's great fun to paint for a second, get off the ladder, walk downstairs to make sure Aaron is still in the house, go back up the stairs, get on the ladder and paint for a couple of more seconds, only to do it again.  One of the times I went out to check on him I found this:

Nice!  Everyone wants to lay out on the back patio IN THE SNOW with their blanket and a LAPTOP!  Awesome.  I didn't let that stop my painting though!  :)  I probably should have listened to my better judgement!

He gave me a moment of panic when I couldn't find him because he was hiding in my room playing on a computer in my bed (eating goldfish crackers and chips--I'll be sleeping in crumbs tonight).  I assumed I was safe though because the hot-wire fence was on.  NEVER assume...you know what happens.  I went downstairs and saw the puppy in the backyard walking toward the gate--she didn't come back.  She didn't come when I called her.  I had a sneaking suspicion that Aaron was in the backyard (my detective skills of seeing the sliding glass door open clued me in), but it was too quiet.  I did a sweep of the house--no Aaron.  I ran outside and saw dog prints and Aaron prints in the snow.  Crap.  I ran back in to get my phone and tell oldest son to get some shoes on.  I figured I could follow the prints to find the escapees.  The only problem was there were a whole bunch of prints!  As I started running down the street calling for the puppy, Aaron and puppy emerged from the garage of the house next door.  (Note: this house is still under construction--so at least no one lived there!)  This is where my predicament got tricky.  I tell Aaron to get in the house, but the puppy goes running in the opposite direction (stupid dog), and Aaron's not coming.  I'm trying to corral both of them, but am failing miserably!  Finally psycho (the puppy) comes running toward the house, and Aaron decides he's going to mosey on over, so I've got both of them!  Whew!  Come to find out that the side gate had been disconnected from the rest of the hot-wire fence (I'm not sure how) and the back gate hadn't been re-coded, so out he went!  I took care of the problem, and then spent the rest of the day keeping one eye on my painting project, and one eye on the backyard.  He kept creeping over to the gate but every time I would call his name with my "Mom tone" he would get this surprised look (like "who, me?") on his face and walk back in the house.  Stinker.   The snow is almost all melted, so we'll see what happens tomorrow!  Did I mention I'm currently enjoying a nice glass of red wine?

Gross (I have no other words)

Kiddos with autism can get fixated on particular objects--carrying them around with them all of the time.  Aaron's current object of his affection is....the....plunger.  Gross.  As if it's not bad enough that he's walking around with a plunger, it's HOW he's walking around with the plunger.  Apparently the suction of the plunging part feels good against his mouth.  Yes, I said it.  My kid walks around with a plunger stuck to his mouth.  NASTY!!!  I couldn't bring myself to taking a picture of it.  Make sure you're not eating right now because it keeps getting worse...the plunger has been used for it's intended purpose.  Did you just throw up in your mouth a little?  I chase this kid around constantly (and by constantly, I mean constantly), continuing to take his "toy" away from him.  I can't believe I want this kid to kiss me!

Solutions

"Necessity breeds solution" is a quote by an author named Anne McCaffrey.  I have no clue who that is, but that doesn't matter when you quote someone!  Aaron comes up with numerous creative solutions to his problems; however, a few of them (or perhaps most of them) don't fit under the "Safety First" category.  Saturday night Necessity Bred Solution without any thought of personal safety.  This story is another reason why Aaron can't be left unsupervised. 

So we're at my niece's birthday party on Saturday night.  Instead of a big cake, she wanted to do build-your-own cupcakes.  My sister had TONS of candy on the table to put parents and children into sugar shock.  Of course Aaron helped himself to his favorites that were on the table (starting before he ate his dinner).  Who am I to judge though as I was uncontrollably shoving my face with Good and Plenty's.  Which, by the way, DO NOT go well with red wine.  Just a helpful tip for you.  Anyhow.  Aaron comes up to me with his finger in his mouth, and he's irritated.  I see a piece of some sort of gummy candy stuck between his molars.  Nothing is more irritating than food stuck between your teeth (scratch that. I can think of a few other things that are more irritating, but am not going to bring those up...) So, I'm trying to dig this thing out with my fingers-with no success.  So Aaron decides to pick up a butter knife from the table to try to get it out.  Of course I tell him that's not a good idea.  He keeps trying, and I keep taking it away.  Mean mom.  He's not getting anywhere with me, so he decides he's going to walk over to the KNIFE BLOCK and grab a STEAK KNIFE to see if he can get it out with something a little sharper.  It probably seemed like a good idea at the time.  I was right there to run over and stop him.  I figured that he really wanted that out (and I didn't want to deal with a cavity) so the search for dental floss ensued.  This proved to be a safer, more effective way to remove the candy chunk.  With the candy gone he was able to enjoy more sugar.  Problem solved.