Well, it’s been a busy day! In all that cooking and playing and opening presents I forgot to shout out to the world a Happy Birthday to my little Bean!!! At 6:30 this morning, Jim Brett and I were reminiscing about the day we went to the hospital! I remember asking him to let me drive because I was having a c-section and I knew I would be able to for a while.

I remember having to say goodbye to my little Jacob, whom I had never been away from for an entire night, let alone 3 days. While I was excited for my little Bean to enter the world, I was devastated leaving my little J-Bird.

And I’ll be eternally grateful to Joan for being here with us that week! You helped in so many ways. But my most fond memory is from when we were in triage and they could not get my IV in and they were on the 5th try. I looked over at you and, without saying a word, the look you were giving me gave me the courage to let them try one more time. (Not that I really had much choice.) You looked so empathetic but also so encouraging. Like you were silently telling me, “You can do this.” That helped me take that deep breath I needed to buck up and stay calm. Once they finally got the IV in and my tears of gratitude that I wouldn’t have to do it again started, you cried with me.

(Right after I came out of surgery and I had that maddening itchy feeling from the epidural, you scratched my back for me so Jim Brett could hold his son! Thanks for that, too!)

I can’t believe that was all six years ago. My little Christopher has given me so much joy. He is such an amazing little guy! He is super smart! I love watching his little mind at work. And what a sense of humor! That child makes me laugh every single day.

Happy Birthday, my little Bean! I love you to the moon and back!!

I decided to do the GAPS diet for my boys. Without getting into it too much, it’s basically a diet where you eat nothing but broth, boiled meat and boiled vegetables for what seems like forever. (Ok, it’s only a few weeks but it already feels like forever.) It’s supposed to be good for all kinds of ailments but, since I have one boy on the spectrum and another one that’s ADHD I want to do everything as holistically possible… trying to avoid medication for either of them.

I started gearing up for this about a year ago. We went gluten free for about 10 months, then completely grain free then dairy free. Then the biggie… sugar free. I am pleased to say that my boys have adapted to all the changes quite well. Don’t get me wrong, there has been plenty of griping, mainly from my youngest. But they are trudging along with it. Christopher does say to me on a daily basis, “When is this break gonna be over?”

This past weekend was the big kick into high gear and doing the first phase of the diet. Jim Brett and I actually drove to a dairy farm in Pennsylvania to meet the farmers and do a tour so we knew exactly what we were buying. We stocked up on a bunch of fresh beef and chickens to make the required broth. I made my first batch this past weekend. I realized too late that I used too much water and it was pretty bland. Again, though, my boys trudged through it like champs! (Ok, maybe a little bit of griping. Ok, Christopher took about forty five minutes to drink his first cup, which had about a quarter cup of broth but, he did it!)

But my batch of chicken broth that I made today… fantastic! It was probably beginners luck but it tasted like it was made by a pro! I was so proud of myself! Both boys drank it up without one word of complaint. I was thinking to myself, “I can’t wait to see Jim Brett’s reaction to this one!” While my big pot of broth was cooling I cleaned up all my dishes. I had all my counters wiped down and everything put away. We had an appointment at 3:00PM. I had everything cleaned up by 2:00 and my broth was cool enough to put into storage bowls. Again, so impressed with myself; smiling away at my easy peazy handling of all it.

Now, I have to leave my house by 2:30 for this 3:00 appointment. All I have to do is dump the broth into my Tupperware bowls. Plenty of time, right? Yes, unless you are like me and the slippery handle of the huge pot of broth slips out of your hand and broth goes flying everywhere. I’m not kidding. It was everywhere. Some even got on the ceiling. How? Now, I am also covered in broth. It is now 2:15. Do I clean myself up and leave broth all over my kitchen for the next hour and a half? Sorry, can’t do it.

As I scrambled to sop up the broth as it rolled under my coffee maker, my knife block, the bag of ginger, my utensils jug (both of them), the thawing plate of burger and as it’s dripping down the sides of my counter, I thought to myself, “Not so busy patting yourself on the back now, are you?” Yes, I also went to this appointment smelling of fresh chicken broth.

After school today, Christopher and I went grocery shopping.  Giant is having this contest now where they hide this stuffed duck and you have to look around the store to find him. If you do, you get a prize.

The store wasn’t that busy so I told him he could go a an aisle or two ahead of me to look for it as long as he didn’t go too far and as long as he came back quickly. Off he ran, super excited for a bit of independence.

He was gone for about three minutes when I felt he had been gone too long, so I went looking for him. He truly was only two aisles away so he was safe.  He did not see me approaching. Where did I find him? He was by the bakery with his little hands inside one of the cases eating the candy shamrocks off of one of the cookies. He finished before I got to him so he didn’t realize I had seen him.

He comes strolling back to the cart with green dye all around his little mouth. He’s talking away to me about finding Lucky Duck. I asked him, “What’s that green stuff all over your mouth.” The look on his face was truly a Kodak moment. He tried to play it off though and said, “I don’t know.” But he couldn’t look me in the eye. I asked him, “Were you eating something?” Looking down at the floor he said, “Yes, but don’t be mad.” He confessed.

I stood there for a moment debating what I should do. I decided he needed to tell the people in the bakery that he ate some cookie without asking. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or not but I also want my boy to understand he can’t just help himself to whatever he likes in the store. He cried. I picked him up and told him I loved him but that he took something and he needed to admit it. Again, my heart wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing but I followed through with it.

He cried a little bit and hid his head in my neck, begging me not to make him tell. I told him it would be alright but that he needed to do this.  We walk back to the bakery and the woman behind the counter comes over to us. I make Christopher tell her what he did and what does she say? “That’s ok, honey, you help yourself.”

Are you kidding me? Then he found the damn duck and got a prize! So much for trying to teach him a lesson.

I met with a psychologist to discuss my youngest son today. He was recently diagnosed with ADHD so we are looking into everything we can to help him. It got me thinking about my own parenting skills. I am, by no stretch of the imagination, perfect.  I yell more than I should. In those moments when I can control myself and think before yelling I say to my boys, “Mommy needs to go upstairs for a few minutes to think. Please do not follow me.” Fortunately for them, they usually listen. (Maybe it’s because my teeth are gritted and my face is as red as a beet so they know something is up… kids are wiser than we give them credit.)

While I talked with that psychologist today, she asked me about daily interactions with my kids and how they reacted. I was completely honest about the times I’d lost my cool with them and how often it happens. She was very reassuring that it’s “normal.” I haven’t ruined my boys.

As I was driving home, it got me thinking about the mothers in my life that have influenced me the most. The mothers that, when I look back on watching them in moments of complete chaos, remained calm and loving and nurturing.  The mothers who, in that moment that I walk (or run) upstairs to get away from my boys so I don’t go completely bat-shit crazy on them, I think how they might react in that moment.

This is my shout out to them.

First up is Carolyn Chambers. My best friend, Peggy’s, mom is amazing. As a teenager, I watched her go through some incredibly challenging times with teenage girls. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time but, in moments when she could have rightfully been furious and yelled and screamed in anger, what I witnessed was the extraordinary amount of love she was able to show them. She would let them know she was angry but she always made sure they knew they were loved. And she did it with kindness and respect.  Clearly, it paid off as her girls respect her and have an amazing relationship with her as adults.

I also spent quite a bit of my teenage years with them. I spent more weekends and summer days (and even school days) at their house that, in hindsight, it felt like I lived there half the time. So, throw in a fourth teenage girl she was dealing with then. Never once did I feel judged for all my shortcomings. (I’m sure I caused her a few grays hairs myself.)

Second up is my Aunt Debbie.  When her kids were very young, she decided (and I still don’t know how she’s sane) to take care of other people’s children.  I was in my early twenties and she and my Uncle Tim put up with me spending A LOT of weekends at their house… eating their food and sleeping on their couch. So, on top of dealing with her very young children, she was also basically dealing with a girl barely out of her teens and all of her problems!  I could talk to her about anything and I never felt judged. She could always make me feel better about whatever was happening in my life.

While her kids were amazing, they were still kids… and all kids are a handful. She was always the essence of patience and that always amazed me, especially after having spent the entire day taking care of at least three or four other kids. I never saw her yell at them. (I didn’t live with them… maybe she did, but I never witnessed it.) She was always patient and loving. When they argued or did something she didn’t want them to do, she could always sit down and talk calmly with them about it. (Again, something I didn’t really appreciate at the time as I did not realize how difficult that is to do.) Now that her children are grown, also has amazing relationships with both of them.

Third up is my sister-in-law, Anita. Wow. Five kids, stay-at-home mom, home schooled her kids. Let me say it again, FIVE kids. I can remember being at Jim’s mom’s (before we were married) and Anita and Mark would come to visit with the kids. Let me point out again… five of them.  Again, amazing kids… but there were five of them. They were happy kids… and sad kids and kids that fought and kids that got upset when things didn’t go their way and kids that yelled and screamed and cried. They were kids dealing with not sleeping in their own beds and being surrounded by a lot of people and being out of their own environment.  Something I didn’t get until I had kids of my own.

I now know EXACTLY what it’s like to drive my kids in a car for more than five hours to spend time with family that, by no fault of anyone or anything other than distance, they don’t really know that well. I know what it’s like now to have them all camping out on the floor of one bedroom and having to share that space when they are used to sleeping in their own space.

In all that chaos (and God love Jim’s family, he’s the tenth of eleven kids… when they all get together, it is chaos) Anita was always the epitome of patience and love.  Again, now that her children are older, she has an amazing relationship with them.

Honest to goodness, (and you can ask my husband if you don’t believe me) there have been so many times in my life as a mother, when my kids are freaking out and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, I have said, “What would Anita do?” And it has saved my kids from the wrath of a crazy woman. (It’s mostly Anita I think of in those moments as she was the mother with the youngest kids as I was finally old enough to appreciate what motherhood is all about.)

So, to Carolyn, Aunt Debbie and Anita, I want you to know how very much I look up to you, especially now that I have children of my own.  You are amazing women that have influenced me more than you know. I love you all and continue to try to follow in your footsteps.

(Might I add, all three have amazing husbands that are also amazing fathers… but that’s a story for another time.)

When I was very young, I can remember hearing adults say, “I remember exactly where I was when I heard JFK was shot” and seeing the emotion on their faces at that memory. At the time, I didn’t understand that emotion. In my young mind, I couldn’t comprehend how something that happened in a history book could be so personal.

As I got older, I came to understand why it affected people the way it did. It wasn’t about their personal connection to JFK. It was about how a single heinous act could affect an entire nation. I get it now.

I remember exactly where I was when the first plane flew into the North tower. I was sitting at my desk at work, listening Stan Piatt and Jim Midock on WNIR.  I don’t remember what they were talking about, I was half listening at that point as it was payroll week and I was focused on my work.  But, I distinctly remember the interruption to the conversation that was happening.  Stan Piatt said, “Oh my God, folks, we’ve just been told a plane flew into the North Tower of The World Trade Center.” I remember I stopped working and gave my full attention to the radio. For the next several minutes, they thought it was an aviation accident. It soon became clear that it was intentional and our entire office building ended up crowding into our cafeteria to watch on the tiny television in there as it all started to unfold. We stood in there watching together as the second tower was hit.

At the time, my sister, Amy, worked in a government building in Cleveland. I remember selfishly thinking, “I want Amy to leave work.” I was in complete terror that all major cities were going to be hit and I wanted Amy safe in my little town of Ravenna. I called her at work and, while neither of us left work early, she did agree to come and stay with me that night.

As I sit here today, fourteen years later, oddly enough, living in Washington, DC, far, far from my safe little town of Ravenna, I remember where I felt safest that day. My sister and I headed to my grandma’s to watch the news with Grandma and my Uncle David. My Uncle David is only three years older than me but, even as a kid, he always seemed like a grown up to me. I guess because he’s my uncle. And, while he isn’t the most conventional uncle, he has always been a good one. He has always taken care of me. He knows how to make me laugh when I need to and he knows how to give advice without feeling like he’s trying to tell me what to do. He is also the ultimate smart ass, always making sarcastic remarks and trying to be the funny guy. But that day, he was in awe of what was happening and more respectful than I have ever seen him. And, as always, he made me feel safe.

While today is a day to remember those that lost their lives in that terrible act, I think it should also be time to appreciate the people in our lives that we love. September 11, 2001 is a devastating day in our history as a nation, but, I will always remember being with my Grandma, my sister, Amy, and my Uncle David. I remember the hugs he kept giving me when I started to get emotional. I will always remember how scared I was but how safe my Uncle David made me feel.  I think I need to call him and tell him that.

Jacob started preschool when he was only 3 years old. Not by choice. I would have kept him home with me if I could have. Because of the Autism, we had to do everything we could to help him socially. While it broke my heart to watch my baby climb onto a school bus and leave me for a few hours each day, it was the right decision. So, when he started Kindergarten last year, I didn’t have quite the pangs of first time Kindergarten parents. I had already had my “first day of school” pangs much earlier in his life.

When this school year starts, however, I will be sending my Christopher off to school for the first time. Yes, he went to preschool last year, too, but it was only for 2 hours a day. I still got to spend most of the morning and most of the afternoon with him.

I became a stay-at-home mom after Jacob’s diagnoses. Jim and I decided it was the best decision for everyone, but especially Jacob.  Since making that decision, Christopher has been there with me every step of the way. We got to have a lot of one on one time together. Most mornings, after Jacob left for school, Christopher would come downstairs in his pajamas, Pooh Bear in one hand and crawl up on my lap. We would watch a little news together while I had my morning coffee. Then we’d read a book or two and decide which errands we needed to run that day; groceries or dry cleaner for Dad’s shirts, or Target or the bank. He also helped me do housework. He would follow me around, helping me pick up the toys and put them away. He followed me upstairs to help me sort laundry and then back downstairs to the laundry room to fill the washing machine. While I folded clothes after they were done, he was usually sitting on the floor or the bed (in the guest room, where I normally fold clothes), talking away about whatever was on his mind. (And that boy never runs out of things to say, even before he could really talk!)

When it was time for Jacob to come home from school, Christopher was right next to me, walking down the yard (Pooh Bear still in hand) to wait for the bus, waving frantically as soon as the bus turned the corner. He’s been my little shadow; my little buddy. He kept me company for the last 4 years, every day.

As of Monday morning, my little shadow will head off to school, too. He’s excited. So excited he has me counting down each day; “How many more days now, Mom, until I get to go to school?” I’m excited for him but have been realizing this week that time really, really does fly. It seems like yesterday I had my first day at home with them, still changing diapers for both of them.  Life isn’t perfect and there have been many days when I thought, “Oh my goodness, what was I thinking becoming a stay-at-home mom?” It’s a LOT of work. But right now, I’d re-live the last four and a half years all over again if I could, soaking up every minute. I know he’s only five and I still have many years of him still thinking of me as his favorite person but… I am going to miss him terribly.

Last Friday, we attended an event hosted by Autism Speaks. We met a very sweet lady police officer, Melissa Weber. While we only got to spend a small amount of time with her, Christopher cannot stop talking about her.

The very next morning, Christopher woke at 7:00am and the first thing he said to me was, “Mommy, we need to call Miss Melissa so she can come over and help me ‘defense’ our house!” I said, “Buddy, it’s a bit early in the morning to be calling new friends. I am sure that if we ever need our defensed Miss Melissa and other officers would help in any way they can.” “But, can we call her?” he asked. I told him that we do have her phone number and we’ll call her one day, but not at 7:00am.

Two days later we were in the living room talking and he heard a siren up on Bel Pre Road. Christopher jumped up and said, “Mom! I bet that’s Miss Melissa going out looking for villains!” I told him, “You are probably right.”

Later that afternoon I was trolling around on Facebook and Christopher came walking over to see what I was doing. He said, “Do we still have that picture of me and Miss Melissa?” So, I pulled it up and showed it to him and he said, “Mom, I really like her. Can we see her again?”

Yesterday, we were driving on Gude Drive on our way to get the oil changed. Two police cars went speeding by with their sirens going. Christopher started yelling from the backseat, “Mom! There goes Miss Melissa!” I just laughed and said, “You’re probably right!”

I have never seen my Christopher so drawn to someone. He loves everyone and will freely admit that to me. He’s not shy about saying, “I love everyone and everyone loves me.” But Miss Melissa made quite an impression on my little guy. His new favorite toy is this plastic police and fire station that he’s had since Christmas but hasn’t played with much. Now he can’t get enough of it. Totally unprompted, he said to me this morning, “Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a police officer.” I asked him why and he said, “Because they do nice things for people. Miss Melissa was so nice to me when she didn’t even know me. That makes me want to be like her.”

You’ve got quite a fan, Melissa Weber! Thanks for showing my boys so much love that day! I think you have a fellow officer in the making!

I love to read. I don’t get to do it often anymore as I have two young boys that keep me hopping every day. These days, my reading (of fiction) is done on my Kindle. Yes, the original Amazon Kindle… not even a Kindle Fire, where you can see pictures and all kinds of fun things. Just a plain old Kindle. But, I love my Kindle.

I’m already off my point. My little ditty tonight starts with the fact that I hadn’t read a novel in quite some time and I decided I deserved a break. So, I downloaded one two days ago. I started reading it yesterday at Jacob’s Occupational Therapy appointment; the first one I’d taken him to without having to take Christopher with us. (Thank you, Jasey, for watching him for me so I could do that.) I had about forty five minutes of peace and quiet where I could read and then it was time to go home.

We had a birthday party to go to today. We had a great time! It was so good seeing my friend, Andee, and her little boys! My boys had so much fun! I hated to leave. But, once we started on our way home, my mind started wandering back to that novel and I couldn’t wait to get home and start reading again.

When we got home, it was too early to start dinner so we let the boys play in the front yard. Then it was bath time (since they both love to play in dirt and end up walking around with a cloud of dirt around them like Pig Pen from the Peanuts). We had dinner together and then the boys watched their regular before bed PBS program. By this point I was chomping at the bit to sneak outside, sit in a lawn chair and read my Kindle.

FINALLY, the show ended and Jim started carting the boys up to bed. (Thank you, Jim Brett, for doing bed time!) I made myself a drink, picked up my Kindle and snuck outside to sit in the lawn chair to read by the days dying light. Before I started, I looked up in the sky and saw this beautiful round moon. My Christopher loves the moon as much as I do. I sat down for a moment and then thought, “I have to go get my Bean and bring him out here to see this moon with me. It’s one of those memories he’ll look back on and love.” I went back in the house and called my little Bean down. “Let’s go outside, I have a surprise for you!”

He said, “What is it, Mommy?” with all this excitement in his little voice. “You’ll have to come out and see!” I said.  I picked him up and carried him out to the front yard. We sat down together in my lawn chair, “Look,” I whispered to him. He looked around, got a big smile on his face and said, “What is it, Mommy?”

“Look at that big, beautiful moon!” I responded, pointing up at the sky. His little eye brows crinkled up and he said, thoroughly disgusted with me, “That’s it? I thought you wanted to show me the pink lawn chairs sitting in Miss Emily’s front yard!”

So much for memories.

Dinner with Christopher this evening:

Christopher says, “Dad, can I tell you a knock, knock joke?”  Jim, with a dubious expression on his face replies, “Sure.” Christopher: “Knock, knock.” Jim: “Who’s there?” Christopher: “Poop.” Jim says, “Don’t say poop. I already don’t like this joke.” Christopher laughs then says, “Just ask poop who.” Jim replies, “No, I will not say that. Stop talking about poop all the time, especially when we are at the dinner table.” Christopher: “Ok, Dad.”

Less than thirty seconds later, Christopher stands up from the table and starts spinning around in circles. Jim asks, “What are you doing?” Christopher says, “I have to go to the bathroom.” Jim and I just look at each other, shake our heads and continue eating. Christopher continues to spin in circles all the way across the kitchen towards the bathroom until he crashes into one of the cabinets and falls down. He stands up and laughs out loud and continues on to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom he yells out to us, “In case you were wondering, I’m only going pee.” Jim and I both reply, “OK.” Christopher yells back, “I’m not going to go poop.” We ignore him. He then begins singing. The words go something like this: “Poop, is funny, poop all the time, poop on your head and poop in your hair.” He then laughs like he’s the funniest guy on the planet. We continue to ignore him.

Christopher comes out of the bathroom, sits back down at the table and says to Jacob, “I just put poop in your hair” then laughs. Jacob does not find this amusing at all. He yells, “Hey! That’s not a nice thing to do!” as he’s rubbing his head like there might actually be poop on it. Christopher is still laughing, highly amused and pleased with himself.  I then calmly say to him, “Christopher, if you say poop one more time you are going straight to bed after dinner.”

“Ok, Mom.”

Less than thirty seconds later, “Mom, can I tell YOU a knock, knock joke?” I responded, “Not if it’s about poop.” His reply: “Ok, never mind.”

I love running errands with Christopher. We get in the car together and talk about everything under the sun.  As we were driving to the post office today he said, “Mom, did you know I have another teacher in my class besides Miss Lizzie? Her name is Miss Claudia.”  I asked him, “Do you like Miss Claudia?” He said, “Yes, she’s nice. She’s bigger than me, though.” I asked, “Aren’t all of your teachers bigger than you?” He said, “I guess they are.” So I asked him, “Don’t you think all your teachers are bigger than all the students?” He said, “Yes, but they aren’t bigger than you, they are big AS you though.” I just laughed, thinking I’m sure Miss Lizzie would love to know Christopher thinks were the same size. (She’s a petite woman… me, not so petite.) Christopher scored himself some brownie points with me on that one.

We drove another few minutes and then he asked, “Mom, do you know how old Miss Lizzie is?” I told him I didn’t.  Then he said, “I bet she’s as old as you are.” I told him, “I’m pretty sure I’m older than Miss Lizzie.” He said, “Oh, you think she isn’t twenty years old yet?” I said, “No, I’m sure she’s older than twenty but she’s not as old as Mommy.” Then he said, “Oh, well, she has to be as old as you then.” I asked him, “Why do you say that? How old do you think Mommy is?” He said, “Well, I know that you’re twenty years old.” I laughed and told him, “I’m a bit older than that.” He asked me, “Well, exactly how old are you?” When I told him, he gasped and yelled, “Holy cat! That’s old!”

Good thing God made him cute.