LoriFitz

2010-07-29T06:14:00.004-05:00

Is It August Yet???!!!

Ok, so we all know I'm counting the days until August 25, which is my birthday. But recently I've started counting down to August for reasons I never foresaw at the beginning of the summer.

SuperHubby was in the hospital twice (yes, twice) in June. First he spent a couple of days in East Cooper with a massive migraine. That was mid-June. Then at the end of June he spent a week at our old friend MUSC with - wait for it - meningitis. Yes, it is terribly rare for the same person to get meningitis twice. Yes, even more so within 6 months of the first bout. Yes, SH managed to pull it off.

So he spent a week with the second round of meningitis, which frankly wasn't nearly as bad as the first, and when he got home all was well for a couple of days. But he still seemed off. After much discussion, we took a trip back to MUSC and asked them to check the shunt. Long story short, he had a shunt revision on July 4.

The doctors checked the valve in his head, which was working fine, but once they crack open your head they have to replace it anyway because now they've introduced bacteria and all that jazz. However, in an incredibly enlightened moment, the doctor decided to check the tubing that runs through his chest and into his heart, and it turns out it was clogged with scar tissue. They snipped that little piece out and put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Meanwhile, I already had scheduled FrogBoy's oral surgery for July 7. I was told he needed several weeks to completely heal before school started, so I didn't have a lot of options. And when things started going in the pooper with SH, I decided to just have a crappy week and go ahead with Froggie's surgery anyway.

He was AMAZING. I didn't give him nearly the credit I should have. (Do I ever?) He didn't stress or freak or anything. The only issue we had was the IV, and no one likes an IV, so I understand his feelings there.

We were at St. Francis (yes, totally different hospital from SH, just to make it fun) for 3 hours. He came home, slept on the sofa for an hour, and was back to my normal FrogBoy later that day. Several days later I was finally able to give him real food, and a collective sigh was let out by us all.

So yes, August, I greet you with open arms. I need a break.

2010-05-30T19:11:00.002-05:00

Stop Touching Me!

There seems to be this common misconception that I don't like to be touched, and I particularly don't like to be hugged. That is simply not true. However, if you think that, I probably just don't want to be touched by YOU.

I actually really like hugs. From people I'm very close to. I think hugs are appropriate behavior when some gets married, or when you're consoling someone at a funeral, or you're greeting someone you haven't seen in 3 years. I do NOT think hugs are necessary when you see the person every day, or even every week, and definitely not if you've never met them before. (Although I will break this rule when meeting family members for the first time).

I also don't have issues with the whole touching thing, when appropriate. I will sit so close to my best friends that we're practically in each others' laps...which is fine. But that's never a good idea if you're not on my unspoken, unwritten, highly important Touching Allowed List.

I'm not trying to be cruel, or even uppity. I won't hug some of my best friends...because the NOT hugging is part of our relationship. But I WILL hug some of my other best friends...again, because it's part of our relationship. I just don't think you can go carte blanche on hugging. There are too many factors involved. People that go around hugging willy nilly have no boundaries.

And people who say I don't like hugs are just plain wrong. I love hugs. It's the people I don't like so much.

2010-05-18T17:21:00.001-05:00

Happy Birthday to Me ~ Part 4

The birthday celebrations are really rolling now. I hope I can keep up the momentum through August. (yea, like that will be a problem!)

So...I got my first tattoo 5 years ago when we visited SuperHubby's family in PA. It is a cross with a shamrock in the center and it's on my right ankle. In case you were wondering. And I know you were.

Ever since then, I have become addicted. I really wanted another tattoo. Several, actually, but I figured maybe I should take things slow. Plus, they're sort of permanent, so I wanted to make sure I chose the right design, in the right spot, for the right reason.

Never one to jump into things, it took me 5 years to make up my mind about tattoo #2. SH and I went Friday, and here I am with Chuck, our tattoo artist at the Blu Gorilla.

And the final product :: a heart and Celtic knot intertwined together, shaded blue, in honor of Spanky and FrogBoy.

To quote Spanky: "Mommy, you're gonna be all tatted up by the time I graduate from high school." Out of the mouths of babes.

2010-05-13T06:31:00.005-05:00

Happy Birthday to Me :: Part 3

Another thing I had on my birthday wish list was a puppy. I've been trying to convince SuperHubby this was a good idea ever since we moved back to Mt. Pleasant almost 5 years ago. We had to give up our Boxers when we moved, because they were too big for our townhouse, but a smaller dog, well...that would work.

Slight problem: SH doesn't really like small dogs. He wasn't working with me on this one. So I suffered in semi-silence and hatched my plan. After all, he couldn't refuse my ONE 40th birthday wish, right? (Yes, I know, it seems like I have a LOT of "one birthday wishes" - it's true).

Anyway, he finally started seeing things my way. I've always wanted a Boston Terrier...or a Pug was my second choice...so the hunt was on. We searched online for rescues, but they were all out of state and very expensive, and I wanted to meet the dog before I got it. So I decided to go the SPCA route.

I started looking online and found the PERFECT puppy...a Boston Terrier/Pug mix. I went to meet him and fell in love immediately. Even better, he was very obviously in love with me. I brought him home May 2.

He is 8 months old, and he's the best dog ever. He is completely house trained, crate trained, he doesn't bark, he doesn't jump...he's just great. He acts like he's been part of our family forever.

I named him Jovi.

2010-05-13T06:27:00.006-05:00

Happy Birthday to Me...Part 2

Ok, so confession time: I have an extensive list of things I want for my 40th birthday. Hey, you only turn 40 once, right? Most of the wishes on my list are seemingly impossible, which makes this post even more exciting.

One of my dreams has been to see Jon Bon Jovi in concert. In person. In all his gorgeousness. So I was going to do that this year...for The Circle tour. Unfortunately, I didn't have the cash when tickets went on sale, and Jon's sort of a big deal, so the concert was sold out when I could swing it financially.

Fast forward to mid-April. Naeem and Ashley, who were formally on staff at Seacoast and started their own church, Mosaic, in Charlotte, were going to the concert. And had 2 extra tickets. Naeem decided to have a contest on his blog for the 2 extras. I read it and dismissed it...until I realized (1) this is my dream, and (2) you can't win if you don't enter.

Well, several people entered, so they decided to let his blog readers choose the winner. All you had to do was get the most votes. Well, apparently I took this way more seriously than the rest of the finalists, because I WON!

Yep...I was going to see BON JOVI.

I took the sis-in-law. Here we are on the way to Charlotte. Yes, we rode with the top down the whole way there.

The concert was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. Ok, I've only been to a couple of other concerts in my life (Neil Diamond, Billy Joel, and many, many Statler Brothers concerts). But this was THE concert. And man, did Jon look amazing. And he sounded even better.

I know I'm biased because he is my most favorite person on the planet, but I think what I enjoyed most about his performance (other than how incredible he looks and sounds, which frankly is just a given) is that he seems to truly enjoy what he's doing. When he smiles, which he does a lot, it seems very genuine. He thanked the audience so many times that I lost track. And, oh wow, that smile.

So yeah, best birthday present EVER.

2010-04-10T22:53:00.004-05:00

Happy Birthday to Me - Part 1

I'm gonna be 40 in August.

There, that wasn't so hard to say. Anyway, I love birthdays. I love celebrating birthdays. I personally think my birthday should be celebrated year-round.

Unfortunately, I've had some real stinkers. Many times when I was young, the first day of school was my birthday. SuperHubby has had quite a few brain surgeries on or around my birthday, and FrogBoy was diagnosed with autism the day after my birthday. SH forgot #38, which frankly made him very UNsuper that year, and he had a migraine and slept through #39. So I figure 40 has to be better.

So this year, I had big plans. I found out Bon Jovi was playing in Charlotte, and I figured they did that just for me, so I decided I'd go. Since I love Jon and he will love me as soon as he meets me and all that. Sadly, tickets went on sale in October, when I had no money, so I gave up the dream and figured it was not meant to be.

Tax refunds came and I was looking for a way to celebrate. Thought we'd do a big family trip. But SH keeps doing the migraine dance, so I couldn't really make firm plans, and everything I came up with was deemed BORING by the boys. Which squashed my ideas of family fun.

Then I hit on it. A mini-vacation for each of the boys, separately, just them and me. This past week, during spring break, Froggie and I went to the Lego outlet in GA.

Spanky's trip comes later. As for Bon Jovi, that chapter is still open...

2010-03-16T06:22:00.003-05:00

Aunt Freda

Last month we buried my Aunt Freda. Actually she was my great-aunt, one of many I grew up thinking was my "real" aunt, only to discover that while I have a plethora of great-aunts and step-aunts, I only have one full-blooded, true-by-definition aunt. But I digress.

My grandmother was one of 12 kids. Yikes. They were raised in Paris, Tennessee, and they were poor (with 12 kids, who wouldn't be?). Three boys, nine girls. Grandmama is #10. Aunt Freda was #11.

Her full name was Esta Freda. Did I mention they were very country people? Her sisters called her Esta Freda or Freda. To us kids, she was just Aunt Freda.

When we were growing up, we did everything as a large, extended family. I mean everything. There were 5 sisters and their families who lived in Charleston, so during the summers we all would go to Aunt MaeDell's and swim in their pool. At Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, everyone came over to my grandparents house. We were the sort of family where 2 of us lived next door to our grandparents (those were the houses we spent the most time at as a large group, because we had the most room). We're talking 5 families, 3 generations in each family. LOTS of people. And we were never crowded.

Aunt Freda had a tiny house. But she had a big heart. She raised her granddaughter before that was the thing to do...because it needed to be done. Because of this, I spent a lot of time at her house growing up (her granddaughter, my cousin, is a year older than me).

Aunt Freda was the cool aunt. She watched soap operas and read Harlequin romance novels. We're pretty sure call-waiting was invented for her. She could keep that grapevine buzzing....always to check on her sisters, her sisters' kids, or the grands. And she was funny.

Aunt Freda had these little sayings...like "Whatever smokes your drawers." To this day I don't know what that means, but I know it's good.

And she was quirky. I love quirky, and she had it in spades. When she would make hotdogs, she would dry them off with a paper towel, so your bun wouldn't get soggy (yes, I have adopted this Aunt Freda-ism). And when she washed clothes, she would never, NEVER wash underwear with towels, because then you had nasty stuff touching stuff that needed to be clean when it touched you...which just wouldn't do!

It's funny how small things work their way into your daily life and you don't really realize where it came from until you stop and think it through. In the last couple of weeks, I have chuckled more doing laundry and making hotdogs than ever before. And that's a good thing.

It's just Grandama and Aunt MaeDell now. Rather than blogging about how much I loved them after they're gone, I think I'll tell them before they go.

2010-02-14T17:45:00.003-05:00

Different Day, Different Brain Issue

Two weeks ago we had some excitement in the Fitzgerald household. SuperHubby had been sick for a few days, nothing unusual, just a little stomach thing (okay, a big stomach thing...but it always seems little when you're not the one barfing). It started on Friday and lasted through the weekend. He didn't have migraine symptoms, or shunt symptoms, so I figured I'd let him just take the weekend and sleep it off.

Well, sleep he did. He slept from Friday night straight through to Sunday. Only got up when he had to barf, which frankly was way more than I could tolerate. I can handle a lot of things; that's not one of them. So when he wasn't puking, I let him rest, and I brought him pain and nausea meds as often as he could take them. I thought that was mighty nice of me.

Well Sunday he just seemed off. It occurred to me that most of his symptoms possibly could be shunt symptoms after all, including the sleeping for 3 days straight, and I started to grow concerned. When he got up at one point, he fell over, taking me with him, and bounced off the wall and the bed before landing in a heap on the floor, unable to move. Spanky had to help me get him back in bed. It was time to call in the big guns.

One of our pastors came over and helped me load him in the car. This was a good thing, as he was dead weight by this time. I couldn't handle him. I took him to MUSC and we hung around our home away from home for the next 9 1/2 hours. While the security guard at the door seemed to recognize the severity of the situation, the doctors, sadly, did not.

Immediately upon arriving in the ER I asked that they check his shunt for malfunction as well as infection. Since they were doing tap of the shunt for CSF, I also asked that they check for meningitis. A friend of mine recently had meningitis and the symptoms were eerily similar. I figured it was either shunt or meningitis. I was assured they would test for both.

After 7 hours, they decided to send SH home. I wasn't in the room at the time. It was the one time I had left. Coincidence? I think not. Once I got the word, I was none too pleased. I explained to the nurse that I'd been down this road before, many times, and I felt like I knew what I was talking about. Not to say he didn't, but he didn't. Anyway, I had to deal with the nurse, because I never saw the doctor. So I was ticked.

I pointed out that when a woman comes into the ER with a typed medical history, and it takes a whole page in 8-point font, you might want to consider listening to her opinions. Maybe. The nurse agreed. Poor guy, he actually was on my side. He just wasn't getting any slack from the doctor, who really just didn't want to be wrong.

So I showed my butt. For 2 1/2 hours. I fussed, loudly, about every single reason SH shouldn't go home, how I couldn't manage getting him there, how if he died it would be on them, just not nice things at all. Finally they agreed to let him walk down the hall first to test his steadiness. He failed miserably. I then pointed out that he'd run 55 miles exactly 1 month earlier, and now he couldn't walk 3 rooms down the hallway. He got to stay.

So he was admitted at midnight. He ended up staying from Sunday until Friday. Diagnosis? Meningitis. Yes, I said that. Yes, they ignored me. Yes, they pumped him full of heavy-duty antibiotics anyway, just in case, which quite possibly saved his life. (go me)

So, that's the saga of the newest brain "hiccup." Just to keep things fun.

2010-02-10T17:10:00.005-05:00

All I Can Say Is "Wow"

Ever think something is your fault, but convince yourself that maybe it's not, and even if it is, there's nothing you can do to change it, so you decide just not to worry about it? That's what I've pretty much done for the past 12 years. I've always felt like all of FrogBoy's medical issues were somehow my doing, related in part or in whole to the medicine I took while I was pregnant with him. I remind myself that the doctors told me it was better to take the medicine and roll the dice than to not take the medicine and have a seizure while pregnant. I remind myself that I love him exactly as he is, and God gave me this child for a reason. I remind myself of a lot of things. Then I spend a little time not thinking about it, and eventually start blaming myself all over again.

This week, I discovered that it actually is all my fault. Indeed. Well, not really my fault; more the manufacturer of the medicine I took way back when. (Actually, I still take it, but that's not the point, now, is it?) Anyway, turns out this particular medicine causes birth defects...many of the issues Froggie deals with...some much, much worse. When faced with what could have been, I realize we are truly blessed.

Still, this cuts deep into my core. I am wounded, broken, raw. I wonder if he will forgive me. Will I forgive myself? I don't know...

So, finally, after 12 years, I have answers. I've been wanting answers. Not these answers, especially not these answers, but it is what it is, and now I know. Now I guess I have to live with what I've learned and move forward.

2009-12-21T19:15:00.002-05:00

Home for the Holidays

Several years ago, when I first started blogging, I wrote a post called "The 12 Irritants of Christmas." It was a great post, if I do say so myself (and I do). It's one of my favorites. And it helps that every Christmas I pass the inspiration for many of those irritants. (Tacky yard displays? Check. Decorated cars? Check. Freaky people in the mall? Double check.)

This year, the holidays are a little bittersweet for my family. In June we lost 2 people that were close to us ... as much as either of them could be close to anyone.

At the beginning of June, our friend David died from pancreatic cancer. He'd been diagnosed last Thanksgiving. David was a small, quiet man who worked with us at the church, and SuperHubby and I kind of adopted him. He spent most holiday dinners with my family. He didn't say much, but when he loved you, you knew it. I hoped he knew we loved him. When he died, I was given a gorgeous scarf he'd made for me and set aside to be gifted only after he was gone. Yeah, he knew.

Then at the end of June my grandmother's husband, Van, died. He'd fallen at their assisted living facility, hit his head on the sharp corner of a wall, and never recovered. He was married to my grandmother for 20 years, and in all that time he never complained when we talked about how much we loved and missed my granddaddy. He knew my grandmother could never love him as much as she had Granddaddy and he was okay with that too. He didn't say much, and often grumbled when he did say something. He was in hospice near my house, and I really didn't want him to die alone, because I wanted him to know that he was loved. True to his nature, he passed away right after the nurses had checked him. He was totally alone. I got there about 20 minutes too late. I was afraid he'd never known I cared. My grandmother told me later that he told her he loved me. He knew.

So Thanksgiving was tough this year, and Christmas will be hard too. We have 2 empty chairs around our holiday table. But Van and David both loved the Lord, and they knew where they were going, and so did we. We rejoiced in their homegoings. There may be 2 empty chairs around our holiday table, but they are both spending their holidays at home.

2009-12-06T14:06:00.000-05:00

God's Provision

So my previous post was about Froggie getting braces, and all that will entail. Anyone who draws breath knows we can't afford to pay for braces, so I thought I would explain how God provided them for us.

We've been discussing the need for braces for Froggie with his dentist for years, but we needed to get to a certain point in his growth before we could moved forward. Over the summer, it was finally time to take him to an orthodontist for a suggested plan of attack. After a couple of hours, the plan was in stone...and boy was it gonna cost us!

I felt horrible, because the orthodontist kept stressing how important it was to start as soon as possible to prevent loss of permanent teeth, the need for dental implants, etc. I felt like a failure as a parent when I had to tell him, "I just can't afford it." They offered us a 10% discount for SuperHubby being a minister. Still no. We couldn't even handle their payment options. They changed them - very graciously - but I still didn't feel like it was something we could take on. I hated myself for letting down my little Frog Man.

Then it dawned on me. Maybe I could get a grant. I contacted the grant folks, and got a big fat no. But I also got a big fat referral to an agency specifically designed for Froggie's type of dental need. I got in touch with them and the ball started rolling - fast.

In order to qualify for this program, you have to have a serious, life-altering issue. They take all sorts of measurements of your mouth, and you're graded based on that and some other criteria. Base score to qualify is 35. Most kids score around 36 - just hovering over the minimum. Froggie scored a 42.

Since I'd already taken him to the orthodontist, the paperwork was easy to do, and the case worker came out to the house shortly thereafter. She pushed him through at the cranial facial clinic at MUSC and what could have been a 6-month process was about a 3-month process.

Our contribution? We have to make sure Froggie takes care of his braces. We have to let them know every time he has an appointment (so they can approve payment). Basically, we have to be adults.

When I found out Froggie needed braces, I felt horrible for not being able to provide for him. Through prayer, I was led to the program I needed, and God has provided abundantly more than I could have asked or imagined.

Never think He won't do the same for you.

2009-12-05T13:30:00.002-05:00

Braces!

It's been about a year in the making, but on Tuesday, December 1st, Froggie started the process of getting braces. I say "started" because, of course, nothing is simple in our house.

Because of the seriousnes of his jaw problems, it turns out that there is a very extensive plan for fixing said problems. Tuesday was just the beginning.

Froggie now has braces on his upper teeth only. This is to get things aligned and straightened enough to have oral surgery to pull down an upper tooth that's killing it's next door neighbor. I found out Tuesday that when he has the surgery, they will put him completely under anesthesia. This does not make me happy. I am trying not to dwell on that aspect of the process.

Once he has the oral surgery, they will put a little pulley system on that particular tooth and hook it up to the braces and pull that tooth out. In addition to the braces not being comfortable, that little dealio will probably be painful for him. At some point after oral surgery, they will add the bottom braces.

Supposedly he will have the full braces on for 2-3 years, at which time they will remove the braces and figure out which jaw should be broken to fix THAT problem. At this point the orthodontist is 98% sure he will have to have the jaw surgery, which will require breaking his jaw and wiring it shut. After that fun, he will get to be in braces yet again, probably another 1-2 years.

Seriously.

To top things off, his underbite is so severe that they had to put a bumper brace on the back of his bottom front teeth. It's halfway up and would annoy me like nobody's business. It's there to keep him from closing his mouth all the way, because if he did, he'd knock the braces off the upper teeth. This means that even when his mouth is closed, he has about an inch of space between his upper and lower back teeth. It feels like he can't chew his food.

Really.

He did pretty well getting the braces on - which took over an hour - although he did try to talk the entire time. He has asked about a dozen times a day since then when he's getting these stinking braces off. Could be a long adventure.

I rewarded him with a Lego for his troubles. He seemed pretty happy about that at least.

2009-12-05T11:25:00.014-05:00

An Interesting Month

Yes, I realize this is a couple of months late in coming, but that's life. Especially with the month we had in October.

It started with a visit from one of our New York cousins at the beginning of the month, when Grandpop came home. We had a lot of fun hanging out with Matt and the rest of the family.

Then SuperHubby left (in the middle of Matt's visit - poor planning!) for a conference in Atlanta. The day he left, FrogBoy was injured at school. He was walking to the back of the school, and the automatic door opened FAST and smacked him in the forehead. He had a huge bruise, a dent running down the length of his face, and a serious "head-ick." So while SH was gone, I got to study him for a concussion for 3 days.

We had about a week of calm, and then Froggie had to go to MUSC for a scheduled visit with the cranial facial clinic about his jaw issues and getting braces. Not to be outdone by his little brother, Spanky picked the EXACT day and time as that appointment to get injured at school. He was tripped in drama class, landed on his wrist wrong, and ended up with a major sprain (which was determined after 2 visits to the ER, a CT scan and an MRI). Yes, only Spanky could get hurt in DRAMA class.

Needless to say, we were happy to see October come to an end!

2009-11-01T17:28:00.004-05:00

Lessons from My Dad

My dad is nuts. Absolutely, positively, don't-bother-calling-back-cuz-he'll-be-the-same -(or worse)-tomorrow looney.

Back in the day, before we realized he was crazy, Dad used to impart his wisdom at regular intervals. He actually still does, but we just say "Yes, Dad" and move on. However, when I was a bit younger, I learned a few lessons from my dad. I notice remnants of these lessons sneaking into my life every so often. I shall share them now.

Nothing good ever happens at 3:00. Of course, this statement was almost always accompanied by examples. "What are you going to do at 3 AM?! Nothing! Nothing good can happen at 3 AM!" "Why would you want to be out at 3 PM? You'll just get caught in pre-rush hour traffic! And that's NOT GOOD!" Apparently regardless of whether it is 3:00 AM or PM, it's either too early or too late for anything good to happen. He's almost right. Almost.

Never trust a blinker. Okay, I'm going to confess, I still use this principal. Basically Dad's theory was you should never turn in front of a car with it's blinker on, because the idiot driving said car probably either doesn't realize their blinker is on or doesn't really mean it, and if you turn in front of them, you'll get hit, and it will be your fault and you'll probably die, and that's not good.

Always carry emergency money. Before debit cards, Dad felt like my brother and I needed to have "emergency cash" on us at all times. For important things, like if the car broke down or we were going to be 3.2 seconds late getting home. Dad provided the emergency cash, which was generous. For my brother, it was $20. For me, a shiny quarter. But I'm not bitter.

Naps are good. Another Dad-ism I like. Dad has always been a lover of his naps. Back in the day, he'd take an hour nap daily (perk #1 of owning your own business...extended lunch hour that includes a nap!) and a 2 hour nap on Saturday and Sunday after golf. As the years have gone by, Dad's naps have grown a little longer. He's currently napping about 18 hours a day.

Fun will kill you. I know, it sounds like a real downer, and sometimes, honestly, it is. But he's right. Planes crash. Cruiseliners sink. People get shot while hunting. Fair rides fall apart and kill everyone on board. It's a dangerous world we live in.

Sometimes you just have to walk away. No, not a divorce reference. When I was 18 and getting my first car (I was a late bloomer in the driving department, what can I say? See the previous Dad-ism for a possible explanation), I found my Dream Car. It was a fire engine red Sundance, adorable, and in my price range. Dad was putting down $1500 and I had to pay the rest in payments. The dealership didn't like Dad's price and Dad didn't like their price; so he wrote them a check for $1500 and tore it up in front of the salesman and forced me to leave. I cried all the way back to our office. He insisted they would call before we got back. When we got to the office (a 10 minute drive away), we had a message to come back for the car. Quite possibly the smoothest thing my dad ever did.

There's plenty more from Looney Tunes Land, but I prefer to meditate on these lessons - the ones that really stuck. They aren't pretty, but they ARE 100% Dad.

2009-09-01T18:21:00.002-05:00

Oh Happy Day

Today has been an amazing day. Well, not amazing, but really, really good. We like good days around our house.

I had a meeting at Froggie's school to review his IEP and discuss his progress so far in middle school. I figured since he's been there 2 weeks, they've had time to come up with a laundry list of questions for me...and I wanted to check on him.

I was a little concerned going in because yesterday one of his teachers emailed me and let me know he'd used a couple of racial slurs against a little girl in his class. This girl has been in his class for several years, and they get along great, so I was surprised. But I was afraid of what that might mean during the IEP meeting.

Turns out, FrogBoy's doing great. To the point that all of his teachers placed him in the top half of his class as far as making the transition to middle school and coming to class prepared and doing grade level work. The extra accommodations we put in his IEP last year don't even seem to be needed at this point...he's handling things that well.

The best part? His science teacher said he's so talented in science she would like to move him to the Honors class. She's not, but only because it's a larger class than the Advanced class, and she wants to be able to offer him more individual attention. But she's bringing in Honors work for him so he won't get bored. And he's smart enough to handle the work.

In our house, this constitutes a VERY GOOD DAY.

2009-08-09T17:23:00.002-05:00

Don't Look a Gift Card in the Mouth

Can I gripe for a bit? Can you really stop me?

I have a simple question: Whatever happened to people actually thanking you when you give them a gift? I have always believed it was right and proper to send a thank-you note toot suite upon receiving a gift, and I have instilled such in my boys. Not that they would ever think to do it on their own...but with a little guidance (and threats), it always seems to get done.

I have found, however, that I may be the last of a dying breed. I have given many gifts in the past few years, and unless I am standing right there when it is opened, I don't get so much as a "thanks, nice gesture, crappy gift, whatever." Just no acknowledgement whatsoever. And that ticks me off. Bad.

I personally don't think people should expect gifts. I know a lot of people who do, whether its their birthday, Christmas, or just because they are all around awesome people and feel they should be rewarded for it. And you know what? If people don't mind giving you gifts, then good for you. But at least be appreciative.

I used to hate giving gift cards. Too impersonal. But then I realized if I just put some thought into the gift card, or gave cash (for those hard-to-shop-for teens), I would be doing everyone a solid. Learned that one the hard way - from a niece who was refreshingly honest about a purse I thought was cool but was clearly NOT.

These days, I'm stumped. If I send gifts in the mail, or put them on a gift table at a reception of some sort, and I don't get a thank-you, how do I know my gift was received? How do I know I was properly credited with giving a great gift? I can't very well say something. THAT would be tacky.

That said, I don't think you should give gifts expecting anything in return. A gift is just that, a gift. And yet, I wonder what it says about society that we don't thank people anymore. I personally try to thank every single serviceperson that helps me throughout my day: at the store, at the pharmacy, at the doctor's office...this week I even thanked a creditor who called to tell me I would be turned over to collections for a whopping $4 bill. He was, after all, just doing his job, and he wasn't rude about it...so why not thank him? I can honestly say he sounded a little surprised...and I'll bet he was nice to someone later because of it.

I guess my main point is, let's not take each other for granted. Good manners are a great thing.

2009-06-26T08:02:00.002-05:00

What a Week

This has been one doozie of a week. Well actually, if I'm going to complain, and I am, it's been a heck of a month. But this week capped it off perfectly.

At the end of last month, SuperHubby had his first ever migraine. I say first ever because it was the first one he's ever had that has been totally, completely, 100% debilitating. The neurologist assured us he's been having them for years and just didn't realize it because they weren't as bad as the one in May. That's very comforting.

I spent 2 days ferrying him back and forth to different ERs for different treatments. During that time, my grandmother's husband fell at their assisted living facility and hit his head and had big issues from that. He had to have brain surgery. Yes, really.

Fast forward 10 days. SH has another migraine. Only minor stuff was going on that week, so while it really stunk for him, it was more of an annoyance for me. Just some schedule adjustments and all was well. During that time my grandmother's hubby went to hospice, so I had to juggle some things, but it was do-able.

Fast forward another 10 days, to the beginning of this week. Granny's husband passed away on Monday. He was 91, loved the Lord, loved my grandmother, and had a really good life. So we were sad but rejoiced for his homegoing. Funeral was set for Wednesday, with SH and Spanky and 2 of the pallbearers. Froggie's job was pushing Grandmama's wheelchair.

Yeah, that apparently was too much planning, because on Tuesday SH got hit AGAIN. Yes, really. Third major migraine in 4 weeks. He ended up missing the funeral completely (actually, he missed this week completely, but that's another story), and I started something I'm fondly referring to ask Lori's Taxi ... Service with a Frown. I was shuttling kids everywhere (because, of course, we had camp and therapies this week on top of everything else!). After many calls to the neurologist, I finally decided yesterday they were going to get the not-so-pretty side of Lori. Luckily, I was wise enough to ask for prayer before I called, and I didn't go crazy on them right away. He's my neurologist too, after all.

End result: SH had an infusion treatment yesterday, which just means he got an IV cocktail that went straight to the migraine, which I still find very confusing and extremely cool all at once. It seems to have done the trick, and he's feeling much better, although the doctor told me to keep him immobile for 2 days. That should be a challenge.

So we made it. I'm grateful for all the prayers of my friends and family, and I'm grateful that my hubby is feeling better. Most of all, though, I'm grateful this week is finally ending.

2009-05-06T06:42:00.007-05:00

Happy Easter (+7)

So we have a strange little "tradition" in our family. Since SuperHubby and I both work during Easter services, we usually aren't able to go out to my aunt and uncle's for Easter and the massive Easter Egg Hunt. Most of the time we just miss it altogether; last year, because of unforeseen monsoons hitting the area, our egg hunt actually happened at Thankgiving. This year, we postponed the celebration one week, which happened to also be my grandmother's birthday, and we had a great time with what I'm afraid may be the last of the big egg hunts. We stuffed and hid almost 300 eggs (the boys and I stuffed, SH and The Professor hid).

I helped hide a couple of eggs. We have a tradition of hiding 2 special eggs...a gold and a silver egg. The silver egg has silver coins in it; the golden egg has 5 gold $1 coins. The Professor and I hid the silver egg inside my gas cap. Hey, the kids are older now, let 'em work for it!

Spanky found the silver egg...but only after my sis-in-law gave the hint "THINK SILVER!"

And Froggie found the golden egg. He was so proud. He didn't even care that we told him where it was.

2009-03-23T17:01:00.003-05:00

Cell-abration

So everyone always uses their blogs to complain about companies; I'm guilty of that myself. But how often do we use our blogs to give kudos when we get superior service? I'm here to start that trend, friends.

A few weeks ago, I got my cell phone bill. I have been with the same company for 10+ years. First it was Suncom, then a few months ago they were bought out by T-mobile. I wasn't sure how I was going to like the change, frankly, but with 3 of us having phones (and no landline), they were the only ones I could afford.

Anyway, I got my bill. And it was TWICE what it is on a normal month. So clearly they forgot to apply my payment, right? Wrong! I looked it over and found $132 in texting charges, courtesy of the Spankster. Not good.

Now we have unlimited texting, but Spanky, being Spanky, got into trouble as only he can manage. He found a way to send (and receive) texts to chatrooms...stupid kid chatrooms...at 99 cents a pop. Do the math...that's almost 150 texts! Oh yeah, I was ticked!!

We had some intense moments of fellowship. We had some grounding going on. And then, 2 days later, it hit me...He probably didn't stop with the texting before he knew that I knew about the texting. So I checked online and found that waiting to be applied to my next month's bill was another $567 in text charges. Yes, really. Almost 600 more texts.

I was livid. First, that amounted to $699 additional on our cell phone bill. We don't have that kind of cash. And we can't afford to be without our phones. So I was a wee bit upset. Second, he was texting during hours when he should have been sleeping, studying, or at the very least NOT texting. Angry didn't come close to describing how I was feeling.

I was also worried about the $699. So I called T-mobile. I asked for help. They graciously blocked his phone from ever sending or receiving one of these chatroom texts again. I was grateful. I was also feeling confident, after talking to the representative, that they might be willing to help me out a little. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do until the bill processed through the system. I was instructed to call back in a week. Until then I was stuck.

So a week later I was in bed with the flu with nothing to do but wonder how we were going to pay this $699 bill. I called back to T-mobile, and after spending over 30 minutes on the phone with a new rep, he backed off the original $132 and made a note in my file to back out the other $567 next month when it processes on the bill.

So....long story long...I love T-mobile! They were nothing but kind, respectful, pleasant, and extremely helpful every time I called. Every one of them sympathized with the fact that my 14-year-old had run up such a high bill...one even complimented his ability to get a bill that high. They had to get all sorts of approvals to get the $699 taken off my bill, and they never acted like it was anything but a pleasure for them to help me.

The end result? I'm a lifelong T-mobile customer now. They've earned it.

Oh, and anyone who needs cheap slave labor, Spanky still has to work off the bill...and donate the proceeds to charity. Just don't tell him I got T-mobile to back out the charges. We haven't told him that part of the story yet. We're waiting to put the exclamation point on our lesson with that one.

2009-03-20T19:57:00.002-05:00

What Do YOU Want to Be When You Grow Up?

On the way home from school yesterday, FrogBoy asked, "When's payday?" How strange. I said "Tomorrow" and figured that was that. It wasn't.

Seems my payday is his payday. Or so he thinks. I tried explaining that he doesn't get an allowance, to which he responded, "Aw man. I really need to get some money. I need to buy some things."

Since it would never occur to Spanky to EARN money, I figured I'd take this as far as it would go. I asked what he thought he might like to do to earn money. His first choice? A lemonade stand. Sounded like a lot of work to me, so I told him we didn't have any lemons and asked for another idea. Then it got fun.

"I could be a personal chef."

"For the family? Are you going to help Daddy cook dinner?"

"No, I'll be a Lego chef. I'll make Lego meals."

"Well, that doesn't really help the family, so I can't see why we'd pay you for that. What else do you have?"

"I could be a weatherman."

"Oh, you mean you'd tell us the weather?"

"Sure."

"Well, they do that on TV. What else?"

And then, the angels sang.

"Well, I could help you with the laundry. I could fold clothes and hang up shirts. Would that help?"

Oh yeah, Froggie. Now you're speaking my language.

2009-02-22T09:34:00.002-05:00

365 - No Way. 24 - Possible.

My sis-in-law is a kooky one. I mean that in the most loving way. She's a big photo-taker, and she came up with this idea to chronicle her family's year in pictures. Specifically, she will take a photo every day and post it on her blog with a little caption - or maybe a story - telling what it's about. Hence her "Project 365" and the first part of this post's title.

I take a pictures a lot...of things most people probably wouldn't...but I don't think I can come up with an idea every day. Sis-in-law takes pix of her kids, and her car, and the grass, and toothpaste. (Not yet - but she might now that I've given her the idea!). She takes pix of dishes and people watching TV. And she weaves a family story out of it. It's pretty cool. But I don't have it in me.

So I've decided to do my own project. I chose 24 because there are 24 hours in a day, and I figured if it came down to December 31 and I hadn't done anything, I could just take 1 picture every hour for a day and still meet my goal. The real goal, however, is to take 1 photo per week at least every other week.

So far I'm on track. We'll see how long it lasts.

2009-02-14T07:11:00.002-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's official. We've had our last Valentine's Day class party. They tend to not be quite so much fun when you move to middle school. (Why is it things go from awesome to stupid in the course of 3 months? Why do we think our kids are so grown up after those same 3 months?)

Yesterday was FrogBoy's class party. And just like every other elementary school student in America, we were instructed to bring in a decorated shoebox to collect Valentine's. Do these people not realize how stressful something like this can be for the FrogMan?

We started a week ago. Seriously. And we weren't having much luck. Then SuperHubby hit on a fantastic idea. (There's a reason he's called SUPERHubby). What if Froggie made the box out of Legos?

I cleared it with the teachers, who were all for it. Good thing, since we already mentioned it to Froggie. He proceeded to make a really cool box, the exact size of a shoebox. I thought he'd make a flat top, SH thought he'd making a slanted top (like a mailbox), but no, he surprised us and made 2 towers with a slot in the middle. He likes to keep us on our toes.

When I picked him up at school yesterday, I thought he was going to explode. Apparently there was a contest (who knew?) and he won. His Valentine's box was 1st Place for being Most Decorative and Most Creative. The prize? A coke and a free homework pass.

You would have thought he won a million dollars.

2009-02-07T16:29:00.002-05:00

The Difference Between Men and Women (Vacation Version)

The Fitzes are thinking of taking a vacation this summer. It's been 4 years since our trek to PA, and my memories of the flight are starting to fade somewhat, so I have convinced myself it wouldn't be too terrible to venture out yet again and see SuperHubby's BFF in Ohio. Sadly, SH isn't too keen on driving to Cleveland, so while I'd LOVE to park my butt in the Sebring and cruise on up to Ohio, it would appear I am not going to win that particular argument and we will be airborne at some point in the next 6 months.

I do these things to myself. The whole trip was actually my idea. It's only fair; my BFF lives in Greenville, so I can technically see her whenever I want. SH's BFF is in OHIO, and they haven't seen each other since the BFF came to see Spanky when he was 6 months old (13 years ago for those keeping track at home). That's a long time! (Sidebar: Spanky is named after this particular BFF).

So yeah. I figured I could probably handle the plane trip. After all, I'm older, wiser, more mature. And I plan on taking drugs, which I didn't do last time. So it's all good. And we're all excited. Except we have a little issue...

See I actually want my children to join us on our vacation. To me, "vacation" means "family." SH is more inclined to think "vacation" means "drop the boys at Aunt Linda's and don't come back until the last possible moment she'll watch them." Forget that we probably won't get to do this again. Forget that hubbies never actually DO a whole lot with kids while on vacation, forget that he's never packed a suitcase for anyone but himself, forget it all...all SH knows is that this sounds like a great trip for THE 2 OF US.

We've had some fellowship over it. I have a free flight that I can use, which would mean only paying for 3 of us to get there. The bad news is tickets are $328 each. To Ohio! I mean, who actually goes to Ohio? When I told the BFF we were coming, he asked why. (He was thrilled when I said it was just to see him; we don't care a thing about Cleveland). Seriously, the airline should pay us to fly us there.

My big problem is this: If we all fly togther and the plane goes down, well then I've just killed my kids. But if SH and I go alone and the plane crashes, guess what? I just orphaned my boys. And it will ruin their lives forever and they'll need massive amounts of therapy and it'll all be because we didn't let them go on vacation with us. These are the things that keep me up at night.

I guess SH doesn't want to have to take care of 2 kids AND a doped up wife while travelling. I already informed the BFF that I probably won't recognize him when I get off the plane, and he shouldn't take offense at that in the least. We'll get there early enough so I can sleep it off and be great by dinner.

So I'm hoping the boys can go with us, SH's hoping the cost of airline tickets remains steadily unaffordable until after this summer, and the boys just want to go anywhere outside of the state of South Carolina. We all have dreams.

2009-01-15T07:42:00.002-05:00

How Do YOU Spend a Saturday?

Last Friday, SuperHubby's older brother and his wife were visiting. They live in the Poconos, and we haven't seen them in 3 years, since we went there for vacation. They have been building a second home in Myrtle Beach and came for a quickie visit.

We didn't know they were coming, but that was okay. Shift a few things around, and we had a great time Friday evening. To cap it off, we decided to have breakfast before they headed back Saturday. Nothing like the Shoney's breakfast bar to say "I love you."

So we're sitting there eating, and my sister-in-law says, "So, how do you normally spend your Saturdays?" Innocent enough question. SH replied that he normally hangs out at home while I spend the better part of the day running errands...which was exactly the plan for the day after they left. And we didn't think another thing about it.

Fast forward 45 minutes and that conversation made me giggle. Coming back to Mt P from breakfast, a crazy lady in a land yacht hit my car. YES, the convertible. YES, we're fine. But SHE HIT THE CONVERTIBLE.

Okay, maybe she wasn't crazy. She WAS 74 though, and was certainly at fault (she felt like our lane must be the cool place to be, and so invited herself over). I knew we were in trouble when SH got out of the car yelling at her. He normally keeps his cool, so this surprised me just a tad.

As far as accidents go, this was a pretty minor one. The car held up really well, which I was happy about, but we had the top down, and it turns out when another car hits you and the top's down, it is LOUD. She hit right where Spanky was sitting, which I believe made him soil himself. We had just been joking around about whether he'd live to see his 14th birthday (which happened to be the next day) and CRASH! The hubcap also flew off over his head, which freaked him out in a major way. FrogBoy simply said, in a very quiet, even tone, "What just happened?"

Mom mode kicks in when you have an accident. Of course, my first concern was my children. Once I knew they were fine, I was concerned (for a brief moment) that SH might kung fu someone. Then I remembered his brother was there and figured he could get between SH and the old lady. And then it hit me.

SHE HIT MY CAR.

I almost started crying. I've only had this car for 6 months. And she hit it. She tried to hit us a second time pulling out of the line of traffic. NICE.

So the first half of this week was spent with me trying to reach the insurance company, which frankly didn't seem very concerned about our claim. The second half of the week was spent hammering out details with them. It promises to be more of the same next week.

Afterwards, I told my sister-in-law, "THIS is what we do on a Saturday. Who knew you'd get breakfast AND a show?"

2009-01-03T13:06:00.004-05:00

Call Me Quirky

As previously reported, I spent the other day shopping with my 11-year-old nephew. Call it what you want, but like all shopping excursions for me, it was really just the hunt for the perfect purse. Which I found, by the way, at least for now.

While we were shopping, Jacob told me in no uncertain terms that I have "too many purse rules." And he is totally and completely right. The perfect purse must be a color...not black, brown, white or gray. And it needs to be a solid. (At least now; that will change when Vera Bradley comes out with good patterns again, I'm sure). Unless of course it has a funky pattern, in which case it can break the solid color rule AND the neutral color rule...but only under these conditions. No wonder he was frustrated.

Then there's the issue of size. And length of strap. And whether it can have pockets on the front. And - most importantly - whether it has a cell phone pocket inside. All very important matters when finding the perfect purse.

I do have too many purse rules.

At lunch my nephew got Chick-Fil-A. So did everyone else at our table. Except me. I had a cheese steak sandwich. Of course, I was asked WHY I didn't get Chick-Fil-A. After all, everyone loves Chick-Fil-A. Except I don't eat chicken in public. How weird is that.

Turns out most people don't think of things like this, but I can't eat chicken in public because sometimes when you bite into chicken, you get that little chicken vein, and then you're stuck. You can't swallow it because it's gross, and you can't spit it out, because that's grosser, so you're stuck. Solution? Don't eat chicken.

Now I'm starting to think I have some issues.

Then today I was watching a movie on TV. And I realized that I don't really like to watch movies on DVD. Oh, I will if that's the only way I'm going to get to see it, but I really need to have a movie with the junk cut out and commercial breaks so I can move around. Yes, I am aware that you can pause and fast forward and all sorts of neat things with DVDs, but that's a lot of work, frankly, and you might just miss something good. But when it's on TV, they cut out the filthy language and the sex and keep the essence of the movie. And you get mandatory breaks. If I have to pause the DVD, I'll never take a break...because I'm into the movie and don't want to stop it.

Okay, so I have my quirks. So what? If you knew my lineage, you'd think I was normal.

2009-01-01T18:21:00.011-05:00

A Good Start to the New Year

Today was the Big Day: USC played against Iowa in the Outback Bowl. I use the term "played" loosely, because I'm not even sure the Gamecocks even showed up. However, during the game, I got to have some great fun with my sis-in-law, my niece and my nephew.

We went to the mall. I never go to the mall. If they don't sell it at Target, I figure I don't need it. Plus, we don't have a mall in Mount Pleasant, which makes it much easier to not shop at the mall. But I digress.

So we went shopping. And I made quite a few nice purchases, if I do say so myself.

First, I got a couple of Hallmark ornaments for next year. I used to buy ornaments every year the day after Christmas for the boys, but then I got out of the habit because the discounts weren't good enough to warrant fighting the crazies in the store. The ones I got today were on sale, and I had a coupon, so I ended up spending only $10 total.

I love Snoopy, and FrogBoy loves the Statue of Liberty, so I thought this would be a nice addition to our collection.

My favorite Disney movie of all time is Lady and the Tramp, so I had to have this one.

The big search for the day was, of course, for my new Christmas purse. This was purchased with money from my grandmother, which meant it didn't cost me a penny. This is always nice. My 11-year-old nephew assisted with the search, at one point telling me "You have too many purse rules." He's right...but I finally found one I loved. Jake said it looked like a bomber jacket. I think it's great!

At that point we dropped the kids at the house and sis-in-law and I hit Books-a-Million. I spent the rest of my Christmas money from Granny (the purse was 50% off, so I still had $20) on a new Bible. I like to get a new Bible every so often, so here's what I chose:

You can't tell, but it's purple and very cute. I don't know how to rotate the picture but trust me, it's adorable.

Finally, I found a game called Farkle. I don't know if anyone else has heard of this game, but it's really simple and 2 people can play, which is great because generally it's just me and Spanky playing games. We played tonight and had a blast.

So it was a very successful day shopping, plus my dad gave me his Bi-Lo Fuel Perks card, and he has accumulated 85 cents...which means the next time I have to buy gas, I'll pay around 60 cents a gallon!

But the best part of my day was getting to spend it with my nephew. I haven't ever spent that much one-on-one time with him, and I'm sorry I haven't, because we had a ball. He's a great kid, and I hope I get to hang out with him more...he's a lot of fun. 2009 has started out great!

2009-01-01T08:07:00.003-05:00

2009 Ideas

I don't make resolutions. There's no point; I know I wouldn't stick with them, everyone who knows me knows I wouldn't stick with them. Instead, I like to make ideas. This is basically a to-do list on which I can randomly cross items off when they start to get on my nerves and I start wondering what I was thinking when I wrote them down. On January 1 it might seem like a good idea to write "start exercising," but let's be honest, by January 3 we all know it ain't happening, so it's time to mark it off and make myself feel better. No need to have failure staring me in the face for the next year.

This year my New Year's Ideas list looks something like this:

I will blog more. With the onslaught of Twitter, I have been very slack about blogging. But blogging is my first love, and I will return to it in 2009. I hope some of my favorite reads will do the same.
I will start exercising. Okay, I'm getting that one out of the way early, because as of RIGHT NOW, I fully intend on it. Check back later today; I'm sure the feeling will have passed.
I will try not to get irritated when people do things that annoy me that they can't help. I'm really good at this with FrogBoy and all the autistic nuances; everyone else is on their own. This year, I hope to become more tolerant of other people's quirks.
I will be more organized. If you know me, this sounds stupid. It's not. I seldom think I am organized enough. I'm rarely happy with my level of organization on any particular project. This year I will work to change that if I can, and be happy with where I am if I can't.
I will hug people more. I already started this at the end of 2008, so I'm on a pretty good roll with this one.
I will conquer my fear of flying...at least long enough to use the free ticket our cell phone company gave us. I'd like for SH and I to go away together, but since it's a free plane ticket and not a free rental car, this will require some work on my part.
I will get red glasses. I found some sassy red glasses that I want, and darn it, I think I'd look pretty cute in them. They are on my list for the cute factor alone.
I will stop worrying about how much we owe MUSC. If I can't change it, why stress over it?
I will upgrade my prayer life and my Bible reading. These stay on the list. I always want them to be better.

That about does it for now. Like my to-do list, this is a living document, a list that constantly has additions and subtractions, a list that has to be rewritten when there are too many subtractions so it looks pretty enough to be in my notebook. I probably won't accomplish everything I want to, but I'm sure gonna try.

2009-01-01T07:47:00.002-05:00

Chloe, Oscar and Buck - The Three Amigos

2008 brought some interesting new things into our lives...namely, wild animals. Spanky killed his first deer (Buck) at the end of August, and then got his second one (Oscar) a couple of months later. We have 2 sets of antlers on our living room wall (whatever) and he is now fully outfitted in the hunter's choice of clothing: tacky camo. It's all good.

Then for Christmas my aunt and uncle gave us something that was definitely NOT on our list...a cow. Yep, a real live cow. I have named her Chloe. Apparently that wasn't the smartest idea, since she is apparently alive now but is set to be slaughtered in February. But I figure if someone's going to give you a cow, you should at least get to name it. I thought about visiting it and braiding it's tail and taking pictures with the boys on her back, but SuperHubby thought that might be a bit much.

The cow actually seemed like a really strange gift at first, but after much consideration, I have decided that it's a really cool idea. Everyone in our family always asks what we want, or asks for a list, or else we'd end up getting stuff we don't want. This was creative and economically sound, which is a great idea with uncertain financial times ahead. You'd have to know my aunt and uncle, but it makes perfect sense from them. Of course, I had to point out to SH that every gift we got this year was food...either a cow or a gift card...so I'm not sure what that tells us...but hey, I'm not complaining!

So 2009 brings new and exciting things as well. We probably won't have to buy much meat in the Fitzgerald household, which is nice. And it will certainly be the first time in history that we're eating what we killed (and by we I mean Spanky).

2008-12-17T07:19:00.005-05:00

The Gift of Austim

It's hard for a lot of moms to sit by and watch their babies grow up. I know I fall into that category. It's really hard for me to believe that in 4 short years Spanky will be in college. (Yes, he will! We're going on faith with that one!!)

I've been blessed with extra "time" with my youngest though. Because of his autism, he doesn't act like your typical 10-year-old. He's got the smarts and the appetite, but the personality is just starting to catch up, frankly, and the maturity level is a couple of years behind schedule. And that's just fine with me.

Most kids with autism aren't very cuddly and sweet and loving. Depending on which end of the spectrum they're on, they might not even be verbal, much less able to interact with other people. But I am blessed. FrogBoy is one of the kindest, sweetest little boys you'll ever meet.

Here's the card he made his teacher last night for Christmas. I think this shows his personality perfectly.

It says:

For Miss Thompson:

I enjoy your class. I (heart) learning. You have beautiful blonde hair, beautiful eyes, a perfect smile, pretty nail polish, and amazing glasses.

I (heart) being in your class.

Signed, Michael Fitz.

P.S. I (heart) you and Miss Disher [his other teacher] too.

2008-11-16T20:14:00.003-05:00

Denis Leary is Stupid

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine brought to my attention that Denis Leary, a very unattractive actor, has an opinion on autism. Well of course he does...who doesn't these days?

According to Denis, "There is a huge boom in autism right now because inattentive mothers and competitive dads want an explanation for why their dumb-ass kids can't compete academically, so they throw money into the happy laps of shrinks ... to get back diagnoses that help explain away the deficiencies of their junior morons," calling such children "stupid" or "lazy" rather than autistic.

Okey dokey. I can certainly see how Denis could be confused. Clearly he has a medical degree. How did I miss that announcement?

I could really go off on Denis Leary right now. Trust me. If you know me, you realize the title of this post is FAR from my original thought...but I decided I wanted people to keep reading if they clicked on the blog to begin with.

So let me just point out what is obvious to me. Denis Leary certainly does not know the heartbreak that comes from being told there is something wrong with your child. Even when you already knew. Especially when you already knew. He also probably can't fathom how you could not only continue to love that child, but to actually love that child more because of their disability, and celebrate every single milestone - large and small - with them, for them, because of them.

My child has autism. He's not stupid or lazy. He actually made all Bs (with one C in science) on his last report card. And he's consistently done that since being diagnosed with autism. I guess we forgot to tell him he had a free pass to underperform.

Is he quirky? You bet. Does he exhaust us mentally, physically, emotionally? Sometimes. But more often than not, he makes my heart soar, he makes me laugh, he makes me proud of all of his accomplishments, and he makes me grateful to a God that would entrust his well-being to me.

Before he was diagnosed, I wasn't as ignorant as Denis Leary, but I was pretty close. My beliefs on autism cented around Rain Man. Holy crap, I couldn't handle that. Thank God my children were perfect. Well guess what? They aren't...and I can.

I've always had a firm belief that Michael doesn't get to use autism as an excuse for anything. He actually doesn't even know he has the diagnosis...and I'm fine with keeping it that way. He realizes he gets some special treatment at school, like getting taken out of class for certain tests and getting copies of someone's notes so he doesn't hold the whole class up while he writes every letter perfectly, but if he forgets to do his homework (or simply chooses not to), I send his teacher an email and remind her that he deserves detention...just like anyone else.

He's not stupid. And he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Can Denis Leary say the same?

2008-11-01T06:43:00.002-05:00

Economic Stupidity

The title of this post sounds like I'm going to make some profound comments...do not fear...I will be as far from profound as possible (as usual). This is just something I cannot pass up commenting on.

Last night, the Smurf and I decided to do a little shopping. She needed to go to Sam's, and I thought I'd go along for fun (and drive - convertibles make you think road trips are ALWAYS a good idea!). We added in a couple of fun stops...the thrift store (fun for her, not me, although I actually found a couple of good things for FrogBoy) and the bookstore (fun for me and not her).

In between a couple of our stops, we decided to eat. I had a coupon. (Pay attention...we're not spending money here). So we go to this restaurant at 4:30 and the place is packed. Nowhere to park. At all. When we finally got inside, it was completely empty. Except the bar. Happy Hour. Who knew there were so many drinkers in Charleston? But I digress.

We sit down and order. Now we had a plan before we even decided to go to this particular restaurant, and we stuck with it. We each got a sandwich, and I had a buy-one-get-one-free (BOGO) coupon, good up to $16 off the entire order. Sandwiches are $8, so we each were squeaking by for $4. Good plan.

Like I said, we order. And our waiter, who I will admit was a decent looking man, starts flirting. Seriously. With a 65-old-Smurf and ME. He's calling us "m'lady" and flashing these grins that would stop a train and stopping by just to say "hi" and telling us stories about his mama - I was surprised he didn't squeeze into the booth with us.

Our dinner ended up costing $8.54.

Fast forward and we're running errands. It's the bookstore and I'm feeling particularly impatient so I ask for help. If you know me, you realize how rare this is. The guy in the store practically becomes my personal shopper. Then he follows me around until I'm ready to pay so he can help me check out. It's starting to get weird.

Final straw: Wal-Mart. I get my stuff and head for check-out. This is the North Chuck Wal-Mart by Sam's, where they have 237 lines but only 4 are open at any given time. So I waited. And waited. And when I finally reached the front, the rather nerdy check-out guy says, "Hey, you're looking awfully good tonight. How are you? You come here often?" (Okay, #1, I know I look good to YOU, and #2, yes, he seriously asked if I come here often...to Wal-Mart).

So I was polite and made a hasty retreat. And on the way to the car, all I could think was this: These guys must be trying to push their products because of the economy. Because I looked in the mirror before I left, and I have no idea what they could have been thinking.

2008-10-19T15:37:00.003-05:00

Merry Christmiss

I love Christmas. I have stated this many, many times, all rather convincingly I'd like to think. I just liked it better back in the day, when we celebrated it in DECEMBER.

Everywhere I look, I see Christmas decorations. This year, in an amazing twist of fate, Halloween got skipped over completely (I'm okay with that) and we went straight to Christmas. At the beginning of October.

I would have written about this crazy little phenomena earlier but I was tied up with SuperHubby. Since he's moving around without his geriatric walker these days, I feel I can blog at will. And so I will.

Like I said, LOVE LOVE LOVE Christmas. I love everything it stands for. I love the decorations. I love the food. I love the family. I love the hunt for gifts, the wrapping of gifts, the giving of gifts, the opening of gifts. I love the looks on my boys faces when they open THAT ONE gift that they REALLY wanted and didn't think they'd get...every year. Awesomeness.

I've already finished my Christmas cards for this year. Now that SH is on the road to recovery, I can plan my photo shoot for the boys and mark that puppy of my list.

But I really can't take putting up the decorations this early. I realize it's the whole "the sky is falling" economy that has pushed us to this. Christmas has to be marketed as early as possible, or people might somehow forget it's coming, and not buy as much (or anything). God forbid.

Well, I think this is the year for a more scaled-back season. Back to basics, I like to think of it. Oh, my kids will get gifts...I'm not an ogre...but maybe not as many, and certainly not as costly. I'm coming up with clever, creative ways to spend the holidays without spending our rent money. And it's FUN!

Maybe it's because the weather was over 90 up until last week. I don't know. Now that it's a little chilly outside, I'm feeling a wee bit more festive. At least they haven't started playing Christmas music in the stores yet. Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, anyone?

2008-10-17T10:20:00.003-05:00

Aeva Fitzgerald

I am officially a great-aunt for the second time, thanks to my nephew Brian. Here he is with his precious baby girl, Aeva. She was born October 8, 2008.

Please keep Aeva and her parents, Brian and Autumn, in your prayers. She was born at a healthy weight (almost 9 pounds) but has been having difficulty breathing - seems she stops for no apparent reason. They sent her home with a monitor and have taught Brian and Autumn how to do infant CPR. Obviously this is a scary situation for them.

2008-09-17T19:33:00.003-05:00

Obit Observations

One of the funniest bits on Friends was early in the show, before they tried too hard, when Phoebe went to visit her grandmother. Grandma had out the newspaper and the phone book. Paper was turned to the obits. When asked what she was doing, she replied, "Updating the phone book." Classic.

I'm not morbid, but I love the obituaries. I read them every day. I don't know what I find so fascinating about them, but I cannot NOT turn to that section ... before I look at anything else ... to check things out. Been doing it since I was a kid.

I don't really read them all. (As if that makes it better.) I only scan them, find the ones that seem particularly tragic, and then read those in great detail. It's like a sick little game. Read the obit and see if you can figure out how the person died.

Things have gotten better in recent years; it has become more acceptable to add a few words to make things more personal. Used to be, you got "He was born, he got married, he had kids, he died, come Friday for the funeral" and that was it. Now people add things like "She is survived by her lifelong companions Bert and Ernie, cockapoos that never left her side even while she soiled herself in her final moments." It's touching, really.

Still, when I check out the obits and something strikes me as not being old-age-death, I need details. Can't we just require people put that in the announcement? If it's a young person, or worse, a kid, I need to know. Was it a car accident? Cancer? Lice infestation? Inquiring minds want to know.

Sometimes you can figure it out. It all depends on where they ask you to make donations in lieu of flowers. If it's the American Cancer Society, you pretty much know. If it's the SPCA, either they had rabies, or they were very lonely ladies with lots of cats. Sometimes there will be an accompanying article elsewhere in the paper that spells things out in wonderful, lurid detail; but usually it takes quite a bit of detective work.

Maybe I'm the only one who feels this way. Probably so. But I think the obituaries should be more like reporting a story. It sure would make my life a lot easier.

And people could stop putting those ridiculous RIP stencils on the back windows of their cars. That would also be helpful. For future reference: That's not how I want to be remembered by my family, friends, and any strangers driving past at 80 mph on the interstate.

2008-09-04T18:06:00.002-05:00

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Life is good. I am sitting on my bed, blogging. This has been my dream for so long, and now that it has been realized, I can't even think of what to blog. All I can say is I love my IT friends!

2008-08-29T06:27:00.004-05:00

That's My Boy!!

Everyone at work has heard the story a million times this week, but for the record, I'm very proud, and I'm going to brag on my son.

Last weekend, the boys spent Friday night with my aunt and uncle. This is nothing new; they do this all the time. The unusual thing was that at 9:00 on Saturday morning, Spanky called me. Seems he'd been thinking about going hunting with Uncle Leroy. Considering it was raining at that moment and I knew they wouldn't go if it was raining, I gave my blessing. I took him some supplies (on the off chance he got to go) and gave every indication that I was supporting my 13-year-old in his endeavor to hold a rifle. Notice I didn't say "shoot."

While we were at church Saturday, I got a voice mail from Spanky. It was raining; they weren't going; but he wanted to stay another night. Now I had a problem. That would put him out until very late on a school night. I decided to go for Awesome Mom of the Year and gave my okay.

Around 8:30 on Sunday night, I got The Call. Spanky shouted into the phone, "I got something!" Seroiusly. I said, "No you did not!" (Such an encourager) Then he said, "Yep. I got a 6 point buck!"

So here he is, his second time EVER hunting, and he manages to get a 6 point buck. I didn't think he could hit air, so this was quite impressive to me. And he's been flying high all week.

And now...here's the proof...

2008-08-17T09:17:00.002-05:00

Top 5 Things I Love about the Olympics

Unless you've been under a rock recently, the biggest thing going these days is the Olympics. Everybody loves the Olympics. They are so big that the two guys in Georgia claim to have a dead Big Foot in a freezer, and are they getting any press time? No. They came out with it in the middle of Olympic Fever. Next time, they should take a page from Lizard Man and come up with their craziness in the middle of October.

But I digress. I've been thinking about what I really love about the Olympics. It's certainly not watching the events. I have a hard time getting interested if the US isn't competing, and even then I have a hard time if it's some random, unheard-of faux sport. So without further ado, my top 5 reasons that I love the Olympics.

#5 - The scandals. Someone always does something to offend someone else. This year, we were lucky enough as a nation to be involved. Our cyclists got off the plane with surgical masks covering their faces...because of the smog. That's a nice kick in the groin to your host.

#4 - The opening ceremonies. These are awesome. As soon as they find out they're the host city, they go into overdrive prepping for a better-than-ever event. Bejing was spectacular. AND they managed to toss in a little scandal (see above) when they had an adorable little girl represent their country and lip-sync while a talented, pudgy little girl got no credit whatsoever. Awesome.

Bronze - The underdog stories. Oh, we always have these, don't we? The guy who was born in poverty, escaped to America, and now is carrying the torch for his team because he overcame all these trials. That's what it's all about.

Silver - The commercials. I LOVE the commercials. This year, they had Olympic preview commercials. One was about Keri Strug doing her perfect vault on a broken ankle. The other - my fave - was about some guy (can't remember his name) who got injured and came in dead last - with his dad helping him. Love that crap. I'm crying right now.

Gold - When the USA wins and they play our song. Okay, whatever, it's great whoever wins. That's the Olympic spirit. But in all honesty, when one of our guys/girls/teams is on that slightly-higher-than-the-others block, and our flag is waving and our song is playing, there's just nothing better. It makes you feel like you somehow had a hand in it, just by virtue of being an American. That's awesomeness.

Of course, I like to see all the wonderful sportsmanship and it's great to live vicariously through these athletes as they experience what might possibly be the greatest moments of their lives, but these, friends, are my top five Olympic moments.

2008-08-08T06:30:00.002-05:00

200 Pomegranates and an Audience of One

Today's the big day. 8-8-08. Around our office, it's not just the start of the Olympics. Everyone knows today's the day when Shawn's book hits Amazon.

Shawn has written a great book about how we each make a difference every day, whether we realize it or not...that God has designed us just for that reason...we just need to realize our potential. I'll be honest: I didn't really realize mine until I read the book.

I'm not one to write book reviews, but I want to promote the book for a couple of reasons. One - Shawn's my friend. Two - and more importantly - because I think everyone who reads it will come away realizing they are an artist performing for an audience of one. It will help you discover so much about yourself.

So buy it today on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com

2008-08-05T17:49:00.002-05:00

Moving Into This Century

In the past 24 hours, I have signed up for Facebook and Twitter. I'm not entirely sure what to do with either of these tools, or how to do it, but I'm excited that I can actually pretend like I'm cool now.

I only have 1 person following me on Twitter. That's a little sad. And I only have 42 friends on Facebook. I don't know if that's sad or not.

Now that I've joined the rest of the world, count on these 2 to go by the wayside within the next 6-8 months.

2008-08-05T17:43:00.003-05:00

License to Drive

Recently I've noticed a lot more personalized license plates on cars. The first time I saw this cute little trendiness, I was in middle school and one of the snobby high schoolers was given a BMW by her rich daddy. The license plate read ITSMINE.

Now I've noticed people trying to be super-clever with their tags. SOCRMOM, USCFAN, PAIDFOR, ELCID84 (for those not from Charleston - Citadel graduate, class of 1984). There is a virtual plethora of personalized tags around town. Most you can tell what they mean; some get too cutesy and you don't have a clue.

I actually knew a woman whose tag was WITCH. She wanted something different; the DMV wouldn't let her put a cuss word on the back of her car. She settled. Personally I think if the DMV had known her better, they would have let her have the one she really wanted.

I've been trying to come up with something fantastic for my car. Can't do it. I was thinking GR8HAIR but that's a given...so why even bother? HOTMAMA is probably taken. I could go with LORIFIT but that's a little lame. So I think I'll just stick with regular DMV issue boringness.

Meanwhile, I saw the BEST PLATE EVER last week. It was WDYTISF. It only took me a minute. Can you figure it out?

2008-07-31T06:09:00.003-05:00

JBJ for President

I've made my decision. Since Barack Obama's name obviously indicates that his mama never loved him, and John McCain is in effect "Republican deoderant" (to the Dems BO)...I don't think I can vote for either of them in good conscience.

My pick?

Jon Bon Jovi.

I don't know what kind of President he'd be. But he sure is easy on the eyes.

2008-07-30T06:18:00.002-05:00

Movie Review

I don't usually enjoy going to movie theaters. I hate paying that much for something I can wait a few months and watch much cheaper, and I hate being tied down to doing only one thing for 2 hours. Multitasking is our friend!

But Spanky loves going to the movies. So when there's a movie that doesn't particularly offend my sensibilities, I will treat him and take him out. Usually it's just the two of us, since FrogBoy has real issues with the noise level and SH has to stay with him.

So far this summer we've see Iron Man, Hancock and The Dark Knight. Not going to go into those very much, except to say that I'm trying to talk a friend into going to see The Dark Knight again because I think it was the best movie I've ever seen. OHMYGOODNESS. But that's not my point.

When we went to see Hancock, I decided to take Spanky to the new Cinebarre theater in Mt. P. For those not in the know, they scooped out over half the seating and installed a bar (hence the name) in front of each row of chairs. They have a full menu and it's really a cool deal. By the time we went, one week into the deal, they had all the kinks worked out. I understand from friends it wasn't quite as smooth when they first opened. But when we went, we ordered a cheese pizza, a milkshake (him) and sweet tea (me, duh). Total cost: $17. Pretty much what we would have spent if we'd gone out afterwards for pizza.

However, there's really no reason to go to Cinebarre if you're not going for the food. We went there for The Dark Knight, and didn't order anything except drinks. While they took out half the seating to accomodate the bar, they didn't upgrade the movie experience at all...the screen is the same, the sound is the same, the chairs are even the same. The only difference is there are less of them, which means the show sold out FAST, and we ended up on the front row.

That's not really my point either. My point is this: I think Cinebarre is really missing the boat with their idea. What's the first thing you think of when you hear "Cinebarre"? If you're me, you think of the extreme deliciousness of the most awesome treat in the world: Cinnabon. Just looking at the picture on their website makes you drool. And since the name is already right there in "Cinebarre," why not combine the two? Can you imagine watching a movie, noshing on a big fat Cinnabon or 6, and having a tall, cold glass of milk?

What a wonderful world it would be.

2008-07-29T06:36:00.004-05:00

Now That's Entertainment

A couple of weeks ago, SuperHubby and I visited MUSC. If you have to ask why, you are not my friend. Anyway, we spent 6 hours in the ER and I have never been so entertained in all my life.

First, there was an older lady who was here on vacation and had apparently fallen. Her leg was swollen and purple. She didn't want to come to the hospital but her entire family wanted her to be seen. After listening to her and her son all morning, I think they just wanted her out of the house so they could get some peace and quiet.

Then there was the rode-hard-and-hung-up-wet lady in her 40s that came in. She had tried to OD and was very upset that no one was taking her seriously. She had taken 6 cold tablets. Even the ER doctor couldn't get excited about her dilemma. She was happy as soon as they asked her to pee in a cup.

But my favorite was the trailer folk on the far end of the room. Apparently the boyfriend had some sort of nasty, infected something that needed to be drained. The girlfriend had been doing bathroom surgery on him for quite some time and was very pleased with her ability to drain said nastiness, but it was causing him a great deal of pain so they came to the ER. And he was SCREAMING.

Of course, his honey was kind enough to tell him that he was being a big baby. She told him she'd had 3 babies and never acted as stupid as he was acting. And she called him many unflattering names, which I cannot write about.

At one point our nurse came over and told us the problem. Seems the genius had staples that needed to be removed. He'd waited too long...over a year...and now they were infected. And they were in his butt.

Well that was it for me. If I wasn't paying attention before, I certainly was now. This was some show. (That explains the bill for $9000 we got this week!). They gave him a shot (in his butt). He screamed. They drained the deal. He screamed. And they tried to remove the staples. At that point I think he almost fainted.

According to his by-now-supportive girlfriend, it wasn't his fault that he didn't have the staples removed. He was in jail when they were supposed to come out.

The doctors finally did all they could do for him and scheduled follow-up surgery so they could continue the procedure without him screaming and cussing every 2 seconds.

Then the kicker: He very seriously asks the doctor EXACTLY what he meant when he told him if he didn't get this taken care of, he could get gangrene of the groin area. How bad could that really be? And could he go ahead and check it and make sure he was okay? Sweetness was all for that - she wanted to make sure everything was where it should be before she left with him.

The doctor laughed out loud. And I'm glad, because I don't think they could hear me howling.

2008-07-25T06:11:00.004-05:00

Guitar Hero 4 Kids

Last night, Spanky came into my room singing at the top of his lungs. Off-key. This is not unusual in our house; I love music and encourage the abuse of it at every opportunity.

However, I was immediately struck by what he was singing. "She's my cherry-pie..."

That's HIGHLY inappropriate.

Luckily, I didn't react on the outside like I was feeling on the inside. I know when I was his age I listened to music that had lyrics that weren't particularly child-friendly. I had very little clue most of them were actually about sex and/or drugs and/or something else not-so-good for me to hear, and anyway, he hears the same songs in my car now. But not THIS one.

So I sat there for a brief moment, composing myself, during which time he mentioned, "I've been playing Guitar Hero. That's one of my favorite songs."

Geez.

I realize adults play Guitar Hero. Probably more than kids. But did they have to do this to me? Couldn't they come out with a Christian version? I would LOVE to walk past Spanky's room and hear him playing "Onward Christian Soldiers." Even a Stryper version would work for me ("To Hell with the Devil" anyone?)

So that's it. My baby continues to grow up, and I continue to be astonished that the world isn't slowing down for him.

2008-07-21T17:28:00.002-05:00

Profuse Thanks

I spend a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms. I think we've sufficiently established that fact. Today, I spent time waiting while the Smurf was having some top secret girl surgery.

I've noticed something. Whenever the doctor comes out to tell the family that he's finished the surgery and everything went well, but honestly he won't be able to tell if it was a success until some unknown point in the future, what happens? The family falls all over themselves offering gobs and gobs of thanks. All because someone did their job.

It's not like the surgeon is saying he just discovered the cure for an as-yet-undiscovered disease. He's really just saying he didn't kill or maim your loved one while he was with them for the last hour or so.

I reckon this to be similar to me getting flowers or a cookie bouquet just for performing my job reasonably well. I come in, I crunch some numbers (if it's Monday) and I email them out. Presuming I don't announce that only 5 people showed up for church this weekend, or that 500,000 people showed up...I've done my job relatively well. I think people should make a bigger deal out of it.

Imagine how much better the world would be if we would all be over the top with expressing our appreciation at just doing the bare minimum...what's expected. I think that would be great. Hugs and cupcakes for everyone!

2008-07-19T18:37:00.002-05:00

Potty Ponderings

I have a little issue with public restrooms. I don't use them. And by public, I mean any restroom not located in my house. Okay, did I say little issue?

Anyway, I guess because I'm getting older and it's a million degrees outside so I'm drinking more tea lately, but I've had the unfortunate experience of having to visit a few local unclean restrooms lately. All public restrooms are unclean, even if they are immaculate. Really, you must join me inside my brain sometime.

This has brought up some questions for me. For example, who is the marketing genius who came up with putting advertisements on the inside of the toilet door? Everything's okay, I've talked myself into going into a completely germ-laden bathroom, there's no one else in there so they won't hear me going, and BAM! I turn around, sit down, do the hokey pokey, and there's a wall full of strange people looking at me. Granted, it's just their pictures...but really, do I need to see the people who want to sell me a house...or want to do my laundry...or want me to come to their movie theater? On a good day, no. When I'm peeing, definitely not.

Another issue I have is the location of the door. Is there a certain masochistic reason it's always located across the room, usually with a broken lock, where you can't make sure it doesn't fly open unless you have 8 foot arms? This is just cruel. My parents did a lot of stuff wrong when I was a child; actually, they're still on a pretty good collective roll. But when they built our house, the potty my brother and I shared was located directly behind the bathroom door. Oh, sure, we had bruised knees for 12 years, but I wasn't scarred for life by having my dad walk in on me while I was mid-stream.

Public restrooms are disgusting, for the mere fact that they're public, which means I can't control who uses them. I don't like sharing germs with people I like; why on earth would I want to share with people I don't even know. Is it so wrong I have my own personal catheter hooked up to a bag in my purse?

2008-07-18T08:45:00.004-05:00

Wicked Cool Pics

Have you seen this? These pics were taken in Florida this week. The photographer said the surfers didn't realize what was happening behind them...which is why they look so calm.

2008-07-11T06:13:00.003-05:00

Political Post

Q: What is the opposite of "politically correct"?
A: Jesse Jackson

Okay, I never write about politics, mostly because I don't understand them, and more importantly because they irritate me. But Sir Hymietown has done it again, and this time I just can't ignore it.

Seems Jesse had a few nasty comments to say about Senator Obama. Unfortunately for Jesse, he chose to whisper them (which is the perfect way to get everyone to stop everything and listen very intently to what you're saying). More unfortunate for Jesse is that he whispers like my brother, which is to say you could hear him in a wind tunnel. Quiet he ain't.

Now Jesse didn't really think this through, because if you're going to say what you hate about someone, you really shouldn't do it while a camera is pointed at your face. Even if you think it's turned off. It is rarely turned off when you think it is.

So Jesse said Obama talks down to black people and is trying to act white. And, oddly enough, the black community is pretty upset about this. (Actually, this makes me pretty happy. It seems like everything is right with the world, now that people are realizing Jesse talks out of both sides of his face rather frequently). If anyone else had made the comments he made, particularly someone not of color, he would have been on TV criticizing them so fast our proverbial heads would spin. Alas, he got on TV and said "oops" and expected all to be okay.

Not so fast, Pumpkin.

Seems his son, JJ Jr, didn't like dad's comments so much. Probably because they made him look bad too...that's what you get when you share a name with someone...but regardless of his reasons, JJ Jr has been one of his father's sharpest critics over the whole shebang. Nicely done Junior.

Meanwhile, of all the complaints I've heard about this fiasco, only ONE person has commented on the thing that struck me hardest. After slamming Obama, Jesse said he wanted to "cut his nuts off." WOW. That's harsh. And coming from the REVEREND Jesse Jackson. That language is a little strong and doesn't seem at all pastoral to me.

Of course, only one lady from the streets of downtown Charleston mentioned the whole "cutting" comment...and I think she'd just come from church and was in a holy frame of mind anyway.

So, I have no reasonable way to end this post that won't sound rude and/or stupid, which is why I steer clear of political issues to begin with. No one else was posting on it, though, and I just couldn't ignore it any longer.

Thank you, Jesse, for giving us a quote to remember 2008 by.

2008-07-01T06:48:00.003-05:00

HELP!

I don't know how many people read my blog...but it really doesn't matter. What I do know is that I need a little prayer...

I've been asked to do something that I really don't think I can do. It makes me ill just to think of it. I WANT to do it, because it involves SuperHubby, and someone else I don't want to disappoint (although I'm not related to the other person)...I just don't know if I CAN.

So if you can pray for me today, to have wisdom and not be afraid, I'd sure appreciate it.

2008-06-27T05:56:00.002-05:00

Under the Weather

Sometimes it feels like my blog leans heavy on the FrogBoy side, but Spanky has faded into the wallpaper since becoming a teenager (other than that little appendix thing). If I remember correctly, and I'm sure I do, because I'm just that good, when Spanky was 10 the blogs were mostly about him.

Anyway, FrogBoy is not fond of thunderstorms. Actually, that's an understatement. He HATES thunderstorms. It's always been this way, but recently he has taken his hatred to a new level. And since we've had thunderstorms 4 out of the last 5 nights, things have been interesting.

As soon as Froggie hears thunder, he runs into my bedroom (usually in some state of undress) with his hands over his ears (not because it's loud, because that's just what he does when something upsets him) and loudly asks, "IS THAT THUNDER?!?!" Upon receiving a positive reply, he immediately grabs a blanket and a pillow and heads for the bathroom.

He then wraps himself in the blanket and turns off the bathroom light and stays there. Sometimes for hours. The other day he was in there 4 HOURS.

The whole light thing made me wonder...what is he getting from this? I would think if you were scared, you'd want the light on. But later he tried out the closet. It's smaller. So I figured maybe he was cocooning himself in and that made him feel secure. Of course, there's no a/c vent in the closet, so when he came out a couple of hours later he was VERY sweaty. I told him if this is how it has to be (and apparently, it is), then he has to go to the bathroom when it starts raining. Sometimes we have the strangest conversations in our house.

So here's a picture of my little man. He's smiling only because I'm taking his picture. He's actually miserable inside.

2008-06-25T07:37:00.003-05:00

Fun in Won by One

This is FrogBoy's class at church. This week they made party hats as part of their lesson. He's hanging out with Nathan, Mr. Roger and Miss Karen.

2008-06-20T09:11:00.004-05:00

Friday Foto

You may recall that Spanky had his appendix out in January. January 21, 10 days after his 13th birthday, to be exact. At the time, I couldn't post pictures on my blog (operator error), but now I can, so I'm excited to share a shot of my precious little man, the day after his surgery. He was so brave, and really handled the whole thing so well (he's normally quite dramatic, so we knew he was really feeling bad when he didn't play it for all it was worth).

Anyway...here he is...thrilled beyond words to be having his picture taken.

2008-06-19T05:57:00.002-05:00

Thong Injury

A woman in California is suing Victoria's Secret for injuries sustained due to a defective thong. (Okay, normally here you'd expect the punchline...but sadly, there isn't one.)

Seems the woman was trying on said thong (um, ewww) and a "decorative embellishment" (I don't want to know) FLEW OFF and smacked her in the eye. Her cornea is now supposedly permanently damaged.

First of all, if I get injured by my underwear, I'm not going to publicize it. Especially if I somehow manage to injure my EYE. How exactly does this woman try on underwear???

Anyway, she's suing Victoria's Secret - but I saw pictures of the lady - and I really think they should sue her. She's not one of the pretty people, and only the pretty people should wear VS undies. Now everytime someone thinks VS, they're going to think about her. Double ick.

Meanwhile, VS wants to see said defective undergarment, which Crazy Lady's attorney says "No way, Jose." Um, I've watched enough Law & Order to know that if they go to trial, she's going to have to show her panties. Could be the trial of the century.

Only in California.

2008-06-16T11:45:00.002-05:00

My Friend's B-Day

Today is one of my best guy-friend's birthday. He's 38. For those keeping track at home, that means he's officially 1 year older than me. At least for the next 60 days. Fabulous.

We have been convinced for years that we are twins separated at birth. I rag him for being older than me; he harasses me because I MUST be older, I've been married longer and my kids are older (a lot older). Since he's on kid # 4 now, I think we can average things out and we're pretty even there.

Anyway, I know I'll get retaliation for this post, but I wanted to give a shout out to my MUCH OLDER friend. Happy birthday Mr. Scott!!!

2008-06-13T06:34:00.002-05:00

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

This is one of my FrogMan's favorite sayings. He just pops out with it at the funniest times. But this week, it has been running through my brain more than I thought possible.

Last Friday, Spanky went over to my brother's...for a week at Bible camp. He loves to go with their family - and I'm really thankful that he gets an opportunity like this - but I'm ready for him to be home. This year he left the day after putting a hole in FrogBoy's wall, so I was ready for him to leave...but now I'm ready for him to be home again. He comes home tomorrow night.

On Sunday, FrogBoy was picked up and headed off to Camp Aunt Linda. My aunt has been doing this for him for several years now. It's his version of summer camp. There aren't a lot of opportunities out there for kids with autism, and especially not sleepover camps. That's a good thing; there's not a lot of people he'd want to sleepover with. But he LOVES Camp Aunt Linda, and he's been there all week. They run errands, buy Legos, get groceries, just basically hang out. He comes home tonight.

So all week my house has been totally, completely, 100% quiet. I cleaned Froggie's room the other night (1 million Legos under 1 bed, plus 25 stray socks...who knew?!). When I talked to him that night, he said, "I was planning on doing that upon my return." (seriously, those were his exact words). So far that's the only constructive thing I've done all week.

4:00 can't get here fast enough.

2008-06-08T13:56:00.002-05:00

The Cupcake vs. the Cookie Cake

We have a semi-new store in Mt. Pleasant called Cupcake. Surprisingly, they sell cupcakes. Just cupcakes. Amazing concept. This is their second store, so they're doing pretty good. (At $2.75 per cupcake, they should be doing good).

The cupcakes at Cupcake are awesome. They somehow manage to get the cupcake top to be a little crunchy...much to my delight. Everyone I have talked to about the cupcakes say this is the best part. The cupcakes also have icing that outweighs the cake part of the cupcake...and it's supersweet...so you really can only eat one (or two, max) without barfing. Oh, but they're good.

Of course, in my family, we can't do the Cupcake run very often. At $2.75 a pop, and 4 people in the house, we're talking $13 to get 4 cupcakes. That's a bit steep. But they're GOOD.

Cupcake has day-of-the-week special flavors. For example, my fave, cookies-n-cream, is only available on Wednesdays. Ah, but good news: my second favorite, the black and white, is available daily.

So in the office I used to work in (they kicked me out - it was brutal), we used to get cupcakes frequently...which led to a discussion of how to eat the cupcakes (my way: eat off the bottom, then once you can get your mouth around it, attack from the side). However, the many cupcakes conversations led to the inevitible battle: Which is better: The cupcake or the cookie cake?

Hands down I'm voting for the cookie cake. Yes, it only has one flavor, and I'm not a fan of the icing at all. That just takes away from the cookie deliciousness. However, you can buy a whole huge cookie cake for $7, which only gets you 2 1/2 cupcakes. Also - Cupcake has odd hours (10-7), but you can buy a cookie cake at the grocery store, so they're available 24/7. And they're just more full of tasty goodness, frankly.

Now I'm all for a cupcake every now and then. They're really good. But in the grand scheme of things, I think the cookie cake wins.

2008-06-05T18:00:00.003-05:00

10

Today is FrogBoy's birthday. He's 10. How is that possible? Just yesterday I had a newborn; as of today, I officially have a 5th grader and an 8th grader. Yikes.

Unlike most kids, Froggie wanted to go to school on his birthday. It was the last day of the year, but he loves school, and he was very excited, because school is usually over by the time his birthday roles around. We did the whole cupcakes-and-juice-box thing for the class. He was on cloud nine.

Ten years ago, I was there. After the problems I had with Spanky, the doctors weren't really excited for me to have another baby. SuperHubby and I decided God probably wanted us to have one, so we ignored the doctors and lo and behold, had a relatively uneventful pregnancy. This was in stark contrast to my first pregnancy, during which all sorts of weird things happened.

From the first doctor's appointment, I knew my baby would be born on June 5. The doctor didn't want me to go into labor, so he planned a C-section...and he scheduled it a week before my due date. The date would have been June 6. Unfortunately, that was my parents wedding anniversary...and they were divorced...so I quickly vetoed that date. It also helped that June 6 was a Saturday, and they don't schedule C-sections on the weekend. So June 5 it was.

We were the second on the list of C-sections that morning. We had to be at the hospital super-early. Amazingly enough, the couple in front of us was late. Late to have a baby. Honestly, some people are so stupid. So we waited around until they were kind enough to show up and have their baby. Meanwhile, my aunt had to go to work that day, and we were on a tight schedule (she was an airline attendant, so it wasn't like she could call in and say she'd be a little late).

Once they decided we could go ahead and have FrogBoy, things were pretty interesting. First, they took me to give me my spinal. It took affect super-fast. I fell to the floor - they actually had to catch me. Then they forgot to go get SuperHubby...so I had to remind them that I wanted my husband in the room for the delivery. He got there just in time to make comments and ask questions about my innards. ("Oh, what's that?" "That's her uterus." "COOL.") It was like the Discovery Channel.

I had a few moments of queasiness, which I guess is typical, but all I could say was "I feel funky." Not the best thing to say when you've previously had seizures that brought on childbirth. Those doctors can MOVE.

Anyway, it doesn't take long for a baby to come when they just rip him out of your stomach. Froggie was in our arms by 8:45.

He wasn't cute. He looked like a little old man. Actually, he looked exactly like my grandfather. He didn't remind me of Granddaddy; he actually looked like a little miniature Granddaddy. It was the oddest thing ever.

He was so small we had to put him in preemie diapers. Those weren't big then, so some friends scoured Charleston to find them for us. We had stocked up and had a closet full of diapers, but none of the tiny ones. We should have known then that no matter how much we prepared, he'd throw us curves every chance he got.

So today my baby turned 10. I can't believe it. He's such a little man, and such a little boy. He's a mama's boy and I hope that doesn't change. He's our FrogBoy.

Thank God for FrogBoy.

I hope this is the happiest birthday you've ever had.

2008-06-04T07:05:00.003-05:00

Blessed...and Stressed

We are a very blessed family. We've had a very consistent year of non-healthy problems for SuperHubby. We have 2 great kids (with 1 appendix - now). And I have utterly fabulous hair.

Meanwhile, we have a bit of stress. A month ago, the van died. Yes, the van I loved dearly. Dead. Something about the engine. The mechanic said it would cost more to fix it than to replace it. So we figured we'd skip the summer trip to Myrtle Beach we had planned and scrimp and save every penny and get me something else to drive. No biggie. I would just drive SH's car until we could do that. Which we figured would be early September.

Now I've killed SH's car. Indeed. Something about the transmission. The mechanic repeated the words we have grown accustomed to: It'll cost more to fix it than to replace it. What?!?!

So now we need to buy 2 cars. That's great in theory, but we still haven't figured out how to replace 1. Guess I'll go eat worms.

The good news is that we have cars available to us to borrow until September. The bad news is, they are all manual transmissions....every stinking last one of them...and guess who can't drive a stick? It's not SH friends, that's for sure.

So this week has been a bit stinky. We're trying to remain positive and remember to count all our blessings (tomorrow is FrogBoy's birthday, so I'm focusing on that right now) - but honestly, sometimes it's a little difficult.

Can anyone say "bicycle"?

2008-05-30T10:38:00.006-05:00

A Couple of Recent Photos

Alrighty then. I haven't been able to post pix on my blog for awhile (operator error, of course), but I'm back in the groove now. Here's a couple of my favorites from the last couple of months:

This is, of course, me and my FrogMan under a tree at the Walk for Autism.

This would be me with the boys at Remley's Point.

2008-05-15T06:34:00.001-05:00

Conversations with Frogs

Last night, while we were riding around in the car, FrogBoy started clearing his throat. A lot. After a couple of minutes, I asked if he was okay, and then said, "Do you have a frog in your throat?"

Nicely done Lori. Remember the child doesn't really understand figures of speech, etc.

So he says the best thing ever: "No. My uvula tickles."

AWESOMENESS

2008-05-11T19:06:00.002-05:00

Whatever Happened to SuperHeroes??

Being mom to 2 boys, I know all about superheroes. Batman, Superman, Bibleman, LarryBoy (no, not my brother, the Veggie Tales dude)...they start early and just keep getting impressed by these wonderful crimefighters. It's a boy thing.

And I'm fine with that. But here's what I'm not fine with. This afternoon, while having a lovely Huddle House lunch with Spanky, he commented that there was a bad word in one of his comics. Really?!? In one superfast Mommy-movement, I gathered up said comic and glanced at the page he was reading. And he was right.

As a matter of fact, in the first 3 pages, I found 6 expletives...the superbad ones. Being more than a little offended, I confiscated said comic immediately...and all other comics at once when we returned home.

And now, because someone somewhere doesn't realize comics are for kids, I have to read 9 billion comic books to make sure they're fit for 13-year-old consumption.

Seriously. Do we need ratings on comics? Isn't it bad enough that a PG-13 movie can actually drop the F-bomb once without losing the PG-13 rating? PG-13 is SUPPOSED to mean its acceptable for a 13-year-old. And friends, that word is certainly NOT acceptable for my child.

So I'm a little miffed. Why does society have our children growing up so fast...and not in a good way? When I was 13, I saw R movies...but they were tamer than PG-13s of today. And comics? My brother gave all his oldie-but-goodies to my son last year...and sadly, those will probably be the only ones he's allowed to keep.

Kids should be kids. Comics are for kids. Let's leave the filthy language out and go back to having a good old-fashioned superhero-saves-the-day-and-gets-the-bad-guy story. THAT'S entertainment.

2008-05-09T06:34:00.003-05:00

Tagged!

Alrighty then. My sis-in-law has tagged me, and since I KNOW everyone else on her list is going to play, and I don't want to be the only one who doesn't, I'm going to play too.

Here we go...
1. Post the rules at the beginning.
2. Answer questions about myself.
3. At the end of post, tag 5 people.
4. Post comments on their blogs letting them know they've been tagged.

Here's the questions...
1. What was I doing 10 years ago? - I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with FrogBoy, had been working at Seacoast for 2 months, and it was summertime, so I was HOT. I knew I wasn't having a baby until June 5 (scheduled C) so I was counting days. I also had been told not to move around much at that point, so I was pretty much just hanging out and sweating. How attractive.

2. Five things on my to-do list today? - (1) Drop off my transfer request to keep Spanky at Moultrie for 8th grade, (2) drop off my dad's medicine at his house, (3) buy a purse (okay, technically that never leaves the list), (4) move offices at work, (5) go to dinner with the fam and the Smurf for Mother's Day.

3. Things I would do differently if I were a billionaire - I'd have a great house with a pool out back for the boys; I'd probably also have a little house on my property for my mother-in-law and her dad to live in; I'd hire great health-care for my dad; I'd buy Froggie a horse and contribute major dollars to Rein & Shine, where he has horse therapy now; I'd have huge closets in my huge house; I'd hire a personal trainer to help me lose weight; and I'd buy brand new cars for everyone I know. Including a couple for myself. To match my purses.

4. Three of my bad habits. - What, only three? Okay, I'm very sarcastic, which I've been told doesn't always translate into loving kindness; I don't trust people easily; and lately, I eat cupcakes almost every day.

5. Five places I've lived. - Charleston, downtown Charleston, North Charleston, Mt. Pleasant, Greensboro, NC (I'm a homebody)

6. Five jobs I've had - admin at Seacoast, insurance agent, gourmet popcorn and ice cream worker, and the requisite teenage babysitting job. Sorry, only four. I don't like change. Maybe that should also be listed under question 4.

Okay, so now five people I'm tagging...
Scott
Cindy
Roger
Ann
Larry

(those last 2 have already been tagged, but I don't care...it's my blog and I'll cheat if I want to)

2008-05-04T18:34:00.002-05:00

Star of the Week

FrogBoy is Star of the Week this week. You normally get to be the star the week of your birthday, but since his birthday is June 5, which happens to be the last day of school, he gets it early. It's a whole big deal - you make a poster about your life, complete with pictures and decorations and the whole nine yards, and you get special privileges in class, like being line leader and getting a free pass on writing the letter of the week (which goes to the star each week, and if you're the star, you certainly can't write a letter to yourself. That would just be silly. At least that's what I've been told.)

So I just finished printing out the pictures I'll be using for Froggie's poster, and rounding up all my materials. Somehow I have a feeling I'm doing this particular project alone.

I hope I get an A.

2008-05-02T05:35:00.001-05:00

It's a Good Thing!

This morning, as I woke up my precious child, FrogBoy stretched his arms out and said sweetly (this is great...)

"I'm so glad you're my Mommy...and not some lunatic stranger."

Yep. Good thing.

2008-05-01T20:14:00.002-05:00

Awesome Job

Every day, on my way from work to get FrogBoy from school, I travel down Whipple Road. Whipple Road is normally not a big deal; but at the beginning of this year, some genius at the water department decided they needed to do some sort of work underneath Whipple Road. That has made it a nightmare to navigate. And they plan on working on the road until at least July.

At least one point in the road is down to one lane every day. It's never the same area from day to day, so you can't even plan for it. And the crew that works the lane closure portion of the job is sadistic. They will let you sit for over 10 minutes while piles of cars go past on the other side (I've timed them).

Except for Dudley. I don't know Dudley's real name, but I like to think he has a happy name like Dudley. Dudley is in his sweet spot. While everyone else on his team just stands around, turning their signs from "stop" to "slow," Dudley has one very important job.

He waves at the cars.

Every single car.

I'm not talking about a half-wave, or even an extended wave for all the cars. No, Dudley gives each car a hand up, eye contact, full wave, hand down - before they pass him. Then he does it with the next car. And the next. He doesn't miss a car.

I think Dudley loves his job. He seems to really enjoy spreading a little cheer with his full-on waves. And he makes me smile when I pass him.

Rock on, Dudley.

2008-05-01T06:49:00.002-05:00

No News is Good News

Okay, I don't want to jinx this...but for those of you who have travelled this road with us since 2000, I wanted to share...

Today officially marks the 18-month mark of SuperHubby's last brain surgery. For those keeping score at home, that's the longest he's gone between slicing and dicing in 7 years.

YAY GOD!!!!

2008-04-30T18:15:00.003-05:00

What a Difference a Day Makes

August 25, 2004 was my 34th birthday. We didn't really celebrate; the birthdays since 2000 had been really stinky (between brain surgery for SuperHubby every year, and a big blow up with a family member the previous year). Our family was relatively normal (other than that brain surgery thing for SH, and the "minor" medical stuff Spanky and I had...

August 26, 2004, we suddenly had a child with autism. Life would never be quite the same.

We'd known for some time that FrogBoy was "quirky." We knew he had meltdowns that we couldn't explain, that he was a slow speaker and had a hard time communicating (hence he'd been in speech therapy since he was 18 months old). We knew he preferred to let Spanky speak for him rather than tell us what he really wanted and/or needed. We knew he could sit and stare at the TV for hours but couldn't stand to look at us when he DID choose to talk with us. And we knew he preferred to play alone rather than with other kids. Big deal.

We started doing research. We quickly realized that it appeared FrogBoy might have Asperger's Syndrome. We were pretty pleased with ourselves for finding this out before anyone in the medical profession did, because it was something neither of us had ever heard of before. Asperger's is on the autism spectrum, so we were a little upset, but hey, at least our little man didn't have autism. God forbid.

We decided that if FrogBoy was going to have Asperger's, at least we could use it to our benefit. Maybe he could get some extra help at school. After digging around and talking to some people, we found out that the public school system isn't required to offer assistance unless a child is diagnosed with certain problems. And Asperger's wasn't on the list. That was okay; we were pretty sure we could find SOMEONE who we could manipulate into giving us a diagnosis of autism.

On August 26, 2004, we went to the CARE Center in Charleston. This is a fantastic organization that does testing to see if kids are autistic and where they might land on the spectrum. Our appointment was for August 26. THE WHOLE DAY. It was very intense. We were allowed a lunch break, but other than that, they tested our 6-year-old from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. And these were some serious tests.

When we arrived at the CARE Center after a long day of testing, we were prepared to hear the word "Asperger's." We were shocked when they sat us down and delicately said "Autism." Not "possibly autism," not "Asperger's but we're going to call it autism so you can get extra help at school." Just AUTISM.

We were rock solid all the way home. I immediately called work and said we weren't coming in the next day. We needed time to process it all. A week later, SH asked for prayer. I totally lost it and ran crying from the room. This couldn't be happening.

It was. It did. It is.

So our journey began on August 26, 2004, and we learn more and more each day. Things I never thought I'd have to think about. Will he ever be able to live on his own? If something happens to both of us, who will take care of him and make sure he gets his bills paid and buys groceries? Will he go to college? Will he get married? Have kids? Things that seemed obvious on June 5, 1998, were suddenly all a big question mark.

There's a whole new language to learn, a whole new list of to-do's to do, a whole new bunch of worries to worry. And yet, through it all, I have to remember what my mother-in-law said to me right after Froggie was diagnosed: God chose me to be his mom. What an awesome privilege that is.

2008-04-29T17:49:00.002-05:00

The Secret Language of Frogs

I know all kids have cute little words and phrases that are all their own, and mispronunciations in early childhood can make an entire family start saying things a whole new way. Who hasn't asked their kid "Do you want basketti for dinner?"

Of course, we have a plethora of entries in the FrogBoy dictionary. Here then for your enjoyment:

* Spectacles. These are glasses. He just likes calling them "spectacles."

* For example. This obviously means "for example." He just likes to say it before virtually every sentence. He has a dandy little things he does with his hands at the same time that seriously will make you laugh out loud.

* The white house. No, this is not where the president lives. This is where my aunt and uncle live. We have no idea why.

* Coastal Therapy Services Incorporated. This is where he goes for speech once a week. Every time he says the name of the place, we get the whole thing.

* Short pants. Not high-waters, shorts.

* Long pants. Jeans. All other pants are not encumbered with a name.

* My new class. The Won-by-One class at church. He's been going since 1st grade, but it is still his NEW class.

* Food stander. This is a TV tray. It holds food, and it's a stand, so I can only assume that's how he came up with that one.

* Princess Mommy. No explanation necessary. Except that I only get this one when he's trying to get his way about something.

Those are some of the cutest things that come out of his mouth. Of course, he also cusses occasionally (although not intentionally), so things even out pretty well.

2008-04-28T18:59:00.002-05:00

Eye Contact is Overrated

One of the "small" issues we have with FrogBoy is that he has a hard time making eye contact. By "hard time," I mean he doesn't do it. At least not willingly. It is a battle to get him to look you when the eye when you're talking to him, and even more of a challenge to get him to look at you when he's talking to you. Like everything else, it's an autism thing.

We spend a lot of time reinforcing the "look at me" rule in our house, mainly because SuperHubby can't "hear" people if they aren't making a conscious effort to look at him while they talk. Our difficulty lies within SH's absolute need for eye contact, and FrogBoy's absolute aversion to it. He makes baby steps daily.

Another issue he has is with his speech. Obviously, he's been in speech therapy since he was 18 months old, and he has a good bit of a lisp to deal with. He also has trouble with positional words (over, under, behind, between...doesn't matter, he has no clue what any of them mean...you can say "Look under the chair" and he'll look all around the room and still not find what you're pointing out).

On top of the lisp and the positional words, speech helps him with how to respond to certain situations verbally, and how to initiate conversation. Those are all good things. The one thing it can't help him with is his jaw problem.

Froggie has a very small jaw, the tiniest teeth you've ever seen, and a pretty severe underbite. His dentist has been watching him for a couple of years now, and we know we've got two choices:

1. Braces.
2. Break his jaw and wire it shut in the right position.

Can you guess which one we're praying for?

Actually, if you guessed braces, you'd be wrong. Originally I was thinking braces would be best, because I just couldn't imagine having to explain to him that his jaw was going to be broken and wired shut; then I couldn't imagine having to go through that with him. However, my aunt pointed out that braces might actually be worse for him, considering all his sensory issues (they would drive him crazy) and his lack of good brushing skills (because of his sensory issues). I'm starting to wonder if breaking his jaw wouldn't be easier for HIM.

Of course, I'm trusting God to work it out. We are, however, getting close to when they're going to need to do something. Some kind of age thing. No matter what happens with his jaw, it won't affect his lack of eye contact or his visits to the speech therapist - but I'm realizing that it might make his face look different.

And that makes me very sad.

2008-04-27T13:01:00.002-05:00

Be Prepared

In our house, it's a good idea to anticipate how things are going to turn out with FrogBoy and have a reaction prepared in advance. It cuts down on a lot of parental stress.

We don't give FrogBoy a lot of notice when something new is going to happen. That sounds contradictory, but if we tell him he's going to the dentist on Friday, and it happens to be Monday, then every day, many, many times a day, we'll hear, "Am I going to the dentist today? Is it Friday yet?? I love the dentist." So we just don't tell him. It saves the constant questions, and then if something changes and the appointment gets moved, he's not upset.

Another thing we have to prepare for at all times is ways to alleviate boredom. This is fun, because Froggie can get bored during the 3-minute drive from our house to school. That would be why my van is full of books to read, puzzle books to puzzle in, and even a handheld game or two. It's why I carry colored pencils in my purse. We need to keep the kid occupied.

We also try, like most parents, to anticipate arguments between him and Spanky and put the kibosh on those before they start. That can be difficult, considering FrogBoy will say things like, "You're in love with Daddy's car." How do you respond to that?

However, I know that every week we must stop for apples or carrots for the horse at therapy (because we did it once), and every week when we do he's going to ask me if he can get a treat too (which he does). Once you realize what direction things are going, it's much easier to go with the flow.

2008-04-26T20:38:00.002-05:00

That's Puzzling

FrogBoy doesn't have a lot of toys that he enjoys playing with, but he really loves building things and playing with puzzles. When he creates something with his Legos, he is "Legoing." When he puts together a puzzle, he's "puzzling." If you think about it for a few minutes, the lingo actually works.

Right before Froggie was diagnosed with autism, we noticed that he was really good at putting together puzzles. I mean REALLY good. He was 5 years old at the time, and he would sit, in true Frog fashion, in the hallway of our house, with a 500 (or more) piece puzzle, and put it together. UPSIDE DOWN. That's right, with the blank side facing up. And he'd get it right.

Most people start by putting the border together and then filling it in. Not the case with my Frog Man. He would just take the first piece he picked up, and that's where he started. And he would rarely make a mistake. He would dump all the pieces in a pile; he would study and study and when he was sure he knew which piece was next, he would carefully choose it and attach it to the existing part of the puzzle. It was fascinating. And a little scary.

I tried to stump him. I bought a round puzzle, with over 750 pieces that weren't "normal" jigsaw puzzle piece shapes, and the entire puzzle was a tye-die motif. He knocked it out of the park in one afternoon.

He also loves word puzzles. It doesn't matter what kind of word puzzle you give him, unless it's a crossword, he can kick fanny. And he's amazing with those annoying mazes. He looks at the maze, puts his pen (he does them in pen!) down on the "start" area, and makes one line straight to the end - without doubling back!

Ask him to clean his room - he looks at you like you have 2 heads. Give him a puzzle - he's golden.

2008-04-24T18:35:00.003-05:00

School - Worse the Second Time Around

Ask anyone in my family and they'll tell you - I never enjoyed school. As I got older, my dislike for school and all it encompassed grew with each passing year. I have discovered since having children of my own that I still hate school, just for different reasons now.

FrogBoy is in a fully-included classroom. This means that while the school recognizes that he has "special needs," they also agree with us that he doesn't need to be singled out from his "normally" developing peers and put in a classroom with a bunch of kids that can't speak. While a typical classroom environment is harder for him on many levels, he's up to the challenge, and frankly, does quite well.

However...

FrogBoy has what is called an IEP by those in the know. That stands for Individualized Education Plan. It's really a nifty little thing; it is a written plan that outlines special accommodations to be made in the classroom to help him achieve what might (or might not, if you were me) come more naturally to other kids. For example, one thing listed in his IEP is that he can have a copy of either the teacher's notes or another student's notes, because he is a VERY slow note-taker, and he stresses over getting every little word PERFECT. This can be distracting for the whole class, so he has the option of getting copies of the notes. Of course, once he found this out, he started asking for copies all the time; we had to squelch that because he became lazy. (Again, he's a typical kid in most ways)

The school has a countdown clock that was purchased for him in first grade. It has moved up with him to each new teacher. When an assignment is given, the amount of time allowed for the assignment can be entered into the clock, and he can gauge where he's at without asking the teacher every 3 minutes (which would drive her crazy), and without hearing the ticking of a timer (which would drive him crazy). We've been told by the teachers that this clock actually benefits all the kids in his class because it helps to keep them all on task.

The IEP meeting is a fun meeting. NOT. It consists of me, SuperHubby, the school principal, Froggie's teachers (however many he has that year), his speech therapist, his occupational therapist, his school case worker, the autistic itinerant, the school psychologist, and our parent advocate. In a small room. For at least an hour. One by one they tell us how he's doing, what he should be doing, and how we can help him achieve his goals for the year. Our advocate is great - he knows all the laws and has a son who is autistic, so he has fantastic ideas on how to combat some of the school issues we might come up against. I will say this meeting gets my panties in the proverbial wad every year. Maybe after I get a few more under my belt they won't, but considering we've done it 5 years running and I still stress about it, I kind of doubt that. I want to make sure I don't leave anything out. You can call an emergency IEP update meeting during the year, but that takes an act of Congress. Otherwise, you get one shot a year. You need to make it count.

Another great (ha!) thing about school this year is that the autistic itinerant has decided we need to track Froggie's behavior. Unfortunately, it's really hard to motivate him. He really only wants Legos. (Seriously, one day I picked him up and he had banged his elbow at recess...and he greeted me at the door with "Mommy, the ONLY thing that will make it better is if you get me a Lego.")

So the itinerant decided to come up with a system for tracking FrogBoy's behavior that was more complex than learning to speak Latin. There was a points system involved, and he got different points based on his behavior (3 for great, 2 for so-so and 1 for not-so-great). And this was in each class (he has 7). Then we would average the day and see what his "score" was. Then, depending on his score, he either had a good day or a bad day. THEN we knew how to reward/reprimand him.

WHAT?!?!?!

I called the itinerant and told him no way. I couldn't figure out his stupid system, so I was pretty such it would be hard for me to explain it to FrogBoy. Plus, I really felt like "good" was a subjective term, and if he didn't know what consisted of "good" behavior, what did it matter? The itinerant told me I was being difficult (nicer terms, but that's what he meant. And I was.)

We finally agreed on a system where Froggie gets a smiley face, a straight face or a sad face. He gets that - if you get a smiley, your behavior was good. If you get a frowney, your behavior was bad. Pretty simple. (That was my idea) Then the faces are averaged and he gets one face for the day. If he has a happy day, he gets to watch 30 minutes of TV that night. And it works.

Sometimes I feel like the teachers are learning on my child. Maybe that's how it has to be. Maybe there just aren't that many spectacular kids like mine. And maybe there just aren't that many autistic kids that are able to be mainstreamed...which would mean most teachers don't get to run across the opportunity to teach them very often. I will say that the teachers at Froggie's school have all been great to him. And even the ones who haven't taught him know him by name and know ABOUT him.

And that's comforting.

But I still hate school.

2008-04-22T18:03:00.002-05:00

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...Cover Your Ears

If you've read more than 3 of my posts this month, you know FrogBoy has sensory issues. He can't stand loud noises, crazy flashing lights, extremely cold temperatures (translation: anything below 70), and he doesn't like crowds. In some circles this is known as being "difficult."

Whenever FrogBoy has a problem with his sensory issues, like most autistic kids, he has no way to verablize it. He's getting better at trying, but he's still well below the 50/50 mark on that one. Oftentimes we have to quiz him to find out exactly what's wrong (if we don't guess right off, we're in for a long night). Luckily, we've had a lot of practices, and even though it may seem totally out of the ordinary to guess that he's spinning in circles because he can't stand the sight of corn, it's just something we all know and love about Mikey.

Anyway, one of the more endearing ways FrogBoy demonstrates his sensory issues is to cover his ears. This would be normal if he only did it when he is experiecing a loud noise that is bothering him. Ah, friends, but that is not the case. He covers his ears when it's raining (because he'll get wet). He covered his ears this weekend when the waitress dropped his plate on his head (because he was surprised - and it was unpleasant). He covers his ears when he's getting in trouble (not because we're yelling, because yelling really isn't appropriate with autistic kids - they don't really "hear" the different sound in your voice; no, he covers his ears because he's getting in trouble...and he knows that's not good). He covers his ears when his hands get dirty, when we wash his hair, and when the mosquitoes are bad at horse therapy. He covers his ears when he's nervous. That's his thing.

We're pretty used to it. In the beginning, we automatically would try to make him put his hands down from his ears, because frankly, it looks a little strange. Now, the minute we see his hands shooting up into The Position, we gently try to talk him down from whatever's bothering him. Sometimes we succeed. Most of the time we don't.

In the grand scheme of things, it's another thing I've learned just doesn't matter.

2008-04-21T18:55:00.003-05:00

Autism Stats

I have a terrible headache today and am not feeling very creative. However, I want to share some info about autism, so I just won't be very "Lori" about it while I do.

According to the Autism Society of America:

-- Autism will be diagnosed in more than 25,000 children in the U.S. this year.

-- The prevalence of autism is 1 in every 150 births, and 1 in every 94 boys.

-- 1 to 1.5 million Americans have autism spectrum disorder.

-- Autism is the fastest-growing developmental disability, increasing by 10 percent to 17 percent annually.

-- The lifetime cost of caring for a child with autism is $3.5 million to $5 million.

-- Treating autism costs Americans $90 billion a year.

-- In 10 years, the annual cost will be $200 billion to $400 billion. Ninety percent of the costs are in adult services.

-- The cost of lifelong care can be reduced by two-thirds with early diagnosis and intervention.

There is no known single cause of autism, and it is treatable. The ASA, which offers an online Autism 101 course, lists these signs to look for in your children or children you know:

-- Lack of or delay in spoken language.

-- Repetitive use of language and/or motor mannerisms (e.g., hand-flapping, twirling objects).

-- Lack of interest in peer relationships.

-- Lack of spontaneous or make-believe play.

-- Persistent fixation on parts of objects.

-- Sensitive to sound/ordinary daily noises.

-- May exhibit aggressive/self- injurious behavior. (we don't have this one)

-- Resists changes in environment/daily routines.

-- Uses gestures or pointing instead of words. ( we don't have this one anymore)

-- Prefers to be/play alone.

-- Tantrums.

-- Enjoys spinning objects.

-- May be overly sensitive or undersensitive to pain or touch.

-- Poor motor skills.

-- Does not respond to verbal clues, although hearing tests in normal range.

Unfortunately, when people hear "autism," they usually think Rain Man. A lot of kids are like that; but a lot aren't. I personally believe we all fall somewhere on the spectrum. It IS a spectrum, after all, which means symptoms can range from very mild to very severe. I am very resistant to change (which is why God gave me a job at Seacoast), and most of the time I'd rather be alone or with people I know very well (I choose my friendships carefully and don't feel a need to have a lot of people close to me). Does that make me autistic? No. Does it put me on the spectrum? Probably. It's a SPECTRUM.

Lump all the quirks together and you get a diagnosis. Or FrogBoy. I choose to celebrate who FrogBoy is, rather than what he "has."

And I am thankful God chose to allow me the privilege of being his mom.

2008-04-20T18:42:00.002-05:00

Walk for Autism

Yesterday we did something that was really cool - something we've never done before (I don't know why), but something we'll probably do every year now that we've done it once. We went to the 5th Annual Charleston Walk for Autism.

Our church is one of the sponsors of the walk. This year, the reins of the walk were handed over to a new director, and she realized they never had the walk opened in prayer. She wondered why, thought it would be a great idea to have someone pray beforehand, and contacted the church. Because of FrogBoy, it was passed to SuperHubby. And I must say, he did quite a fine job.

We prepped the boys the night before. We had no idea what the crowd would be like, and that's always a potential deal-breaker, so we figured we'd explain what Froggie could expect. What I didn't expect was the "Why are we going THERE?" When Spanky informed him it was because HE had autism, FrogBoy responded with "No I don't." It was an interesting evening explaining to him that yes, indeed, he does have autism. Now, he may think that's like having a fish, since he never asked any questions about autism specifically, but that's another story.

We had to get up super-early for a weekend, but the boys were excited. Froggie was a little nervous, but he handled it like a pro. Luckily, there weren't any bugs, so we were golden. His speech therapist was there - the clinic had a whole booth and a jump castle - plus we saw a bunch of friends from speech. Autism really is a small community, so you tend to see a lot of the same people over and over. I learned that this weekend.

Anyway, the boys spent a great deal of time in jump castles, getting free stuff from anyone they could, and just having a great time. We are definitely going back.

Then we went to brunch, where the waitress promptly dropped 2 dishes on Froggie's head.

2008-04-18T05:44:00.003-05:00

Where's Waldo?

FrogBoy wasn't diagnosed with autism until the first week of first grade; before that, we just considered him "quirky" with a capital Q. And that was fine. Frankly, everyone in our house is quirky in some way or another, so we just figured he was your average Fitzgerald. Technically, nothing's changed there.

Anyway, as I mentioned in my previous post, when FrogBoy started school, I decided I was going to be dropping the boys off at school AND picking them up. (In years past, when it was just Spanky, he rode the daycare bus from school to afterschool care.) All that said, the first day of school was probably more exciting for me than it was for the boys.

I made big plans. I sat them down the night before and explained that they were CAR RIDERS. That meant that I would be picking them up from school. Having gone to this school for 3 years already with Spanky, I knew that was one of the first questions they would be asked. "Hi, welcome to first grade. What's your name? Are you a car rider or a bus rider? Do you bring lunch or buy lunch?" So I was prepared. And so were the boys.

We went through the drills. DON'T leave before I get there. I WILL PICK YOU UP. Seriously, all bases were covered.

Now remember this is the first day of school. I don't know about other schools, but at our school, this spells mayhem. Apparently every single parent feels the need to pick their child up on the first day of school...whether or not they are a car rider. Having never done this before, I didn't factor in enough time to sit in traffic for 6 hours before I could see the school building. No biggie though. Finally, I was able to park my car and mosey up to the school. My kids were car riders, so they would be waiting.

There in the 3rd grade line stood Spanky, looking proud and clinging to his oversized backpack. I glanced around. No FrogBoy. I asked his teacher. No, she hadn't seen him. (Frankly, she didn't seem overly concerned, but that's another story.) They figured we couldn't find him because it was so crowded; maybe we should wait until some of the traffic cleared out.

Thirty minutes later, there was no one left but me, the principal and the entire school staff. Teachers were searching everywhere. Spanky was a wreck. I was actually pretty calm (my breakdown came later). The principal told me he thought I might possibly be the calmest mother he'd ever met. (Stop laughing; he really said that.) After about 10 minutes of searching, we realized he wasn't there. My biggest fear was that he'd gotten in a car with someone he didn't know, had been kidnapped, and was halfway to Mexico and I'd never see him again. All this, and SuperHubby just so happened to be at MUSC that day, awaiting tests to find out if he needed brain surgery (he did).

At this point, the school decided to call the police. I had to get on the phone and explain what he looked like and what he was wearing. I did pretty good...but realized that day that the Child ID's they provide at daycares and schools are worthless. It never crossed my mind to show anyone that stupid little ID card.

We kept searching the school. A few minutes later, we got a call from the police. They had FrogBoy in custody. He had somehow managed to hop a school bus (we think he drifted from the car rider line to the bus rider line) and then got off on the very first stop. Fortunately, the bus he chose delivered kids right around the corner from the school, at an apartment complex. He got off when the other kids did, but realized he had no idea where he was, so he went into the office and stood there and stared at them. They realized he wasn't one of theirs and called the police.

Being the first day of school, I had my camera in my purse, so I got pictures to document the whole thing. FrogBoy was never scared for a second (I was glad at the time, but then wished he wasn't quite so unaware.) SH ended up needing brain surgery, so I was really glad I didn't have to tell him I'd lost our child on the same day. And the school ended up changing all of its dismissal policies based on our boy.

I went home that night and cried my eyes out. And that, my friends, is why I keep both eyes on the kid at all times.

2008-04-17T18:54:00.002-05:00

The Cost of Autism

I read in the paper this week that the family of an autistic child makes $6200 less per year than the average family with a normally functioning child. I'm not sure how exactly they figured this out, but the basic finding was that between taking off early from work for therapy and doctors appointments, and IEP meetings and such at school, or simply not working (depending on the severity of the autism in the child), families with kids are the spectrum are poorer on average each year than other families.

Whatever.

I have been very fortunate in my work situation. When FrogBoy was about to start kindergarten, a full year before he was ever diagnosed, I started crunching numbers. It quickly became apparent to me that it would cost "X" amount of money to send the boys to daycare for 2 hours each afternoon. It would take me 2 hours to earn "X" amount of money. Being the mathematical genuis that I am, I realized that I would be working to send them to daycare...and that didn't seem like God's plan for our family.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I approached Geoff about my plan. I wanted to work 7:30-2:30, the hours the boys were in school. There was nothing in it for the church. Our family would get all the benefits.

I really expected a solid "NO" before I was sent packing. What I was greeted with, however, was a resounding "That sounds like a GREAT idea!" (He may not remember it, but that's exactly what he said.) Geoff was kind enough to then make my argument for me, telling me how great it would be to be home with the boys in the afternoon to help with homework, etc. At this point Spanky was in 3rd grade, so we'd done life the other way - with him going to afterschool care and then rushing to do homework when we all got home at 5:00. And we were miserable.

So the day FrogBoy started kindergarten, I started a new chapter in my life. I became the mom taxi, in charge of ferrying the boys to and from school, to appointments, and simply running errands or taking them for ice cream after school. What a glorious day that was!

We've been doing this for 5 years now. I am able to walk FrogBoy to his class each morning, and pick him up in his class each afternoon. With his extreme sensitivity to crowds and noises, and his tendency to wander, both of which make the carpool line a no-go, this has been HUGE. I'm so thankful God KNEW, and handled all the details when I thought it was just MY good idea.

We may make $6200 a year less than other families with "normal" kids, but we are RICH indeed.

2008-04-16T17:43:00.002-05:00

Homework Hassles

Today was one of those days for FrogBoy. He had a great day at school, but something went terribly wrong when he started his homework. He had what I like to call Meltdown Madness.

It started innocently enough. Every week, he has to write a letter to someone in his class (whoever happens to be the "star of the week" that week). If there is no "star," he has to write a letter to the teacher. No big deal. He's been doing this since September, and he's got the hang of it...Or so you would think.

I'm not allowed to oversee his homework very closely. He doesn't like people all up in his business when he's working. (I wonder where he gets that?!) Anyway, I glanced over at his work and noticed that he was skipping lines. I asked if he was working on a rough draft or a final copy, since he's not allowed to skip lines in the final copy, and he usually doesn't do a rough draft, and he informed me that it was his final copy. Houston, we have a problem.

I told him he was going to have to rewrite it. Luckily, he'd only written 2 sentences. I tried to play it down. He wasn't buying it. He asked if he could just draw arrows (smart kid). I told him no, he was going to have to rewrite it. That's when it happened.

Tears. Big fat ones. And then...he balled up his letter and threw it on the floor and told me "I'm NEVER writing a letter again!" Hello, meltdown!!

I finally managed to calm him down and get him started with a nice, new, clean piece of paper. UNTIL...

FrogBoy: "I can't use THIS!"
Me: "Why not?"
FrogBoy: "Because of THIS!!!" (said with an unspoken "STUPID WOMAN!" at the end)
Me: "I don't see anything."
FrogBoy: "THIS, right here!!!"

I looked. I squinted. I put my glasses on. And then I saw it. A speck no bigger than a pin prick. Right there in the margin of his paper. God forbid.

Fortuntely, I had to leave. I left things in the trustworthy hands of SuperHubby. Sometimes all it takes is a different perspective. I'm not sure what happened, but when I got back an hour later, the letter was written, the tears were gone, and Legos were being built.

Thank you Lord.

2008-04-15T06:42:00.002-05:00

10 Things I Learned in First Grade

I originally posted this list in 2006. I totally stole it from the SC Center for Disabilities newsletter. I don't care. I like it, and I'm going to share it (steal it) again. Since we found out FrogBoy had autism when he was in the first grade, my contribution to the post is the clever title.

1. Autism or not, they are still a blessing. (I would like to add the caveat "Most of the time.")

2. There is no such thing as normal.

3. No two are alike. (You ain't just whistling Dixie there!!)

4. How autistic I really am. (Indeed)

5. If I stay calm, it will have a domino effect. (I really wish I could remember this one more...in the moment...)

6. Don't stay in denial; no one gets better there.

7. Major the majors and minor the minors (or...don't sweat the small stuff.)

8. A sense of humor is EVERYTHING.

9. A simple smile can tell me more than one word. (Thank God we have lots of smiles from our Frog Man).

10. Miracles happen every day if you know where to look.

I'd like to close with some profound comment. Unfortunately, I've got nothing. I will say this...even though it's hard, even though I wouldn't have chosen this path, I'm thankful God chose me to be FrogBoy's mom.

2008-04-14T06:45:00.003-05:00

Family Ties

My brother has 3 kids: David, 14, Jacob, 11, and Mary-Elizabeth, almost 9. My boys are 13 and 10. As you can see, we had a little friendly competition going for about six years.

The kids love spending time together. But what's really great about it is that, while they all know Michael has autism, it doesn't stop them from treating him any differently than anyone else. For the most part.

The kids all know that my senses are a little heightened when it comes to keeping an eye on Michael. (More on that in another post.) And they are great about watching out for him, making sure he's not getting into anything he's not supposed to (like the lake behind my aunt's house). They also have no hesitation in tattling when he's doing something wrong or just plain annoying them.

On Easter, SuperHubby and I were at work...so the boys spent the night at my aunt's. Before they left, I knew it was going to turn into a weekend-long visit; my brother's kids were going to show up on Easter, and they were going to suck up until my aunt and uncle had at the minimum 5 kids spending the night. Sure enough, they had all 4 boys that night.

Here's the great thing: When they got home, I heard that David (remember, he's 14) had spent quite a bit of time outside with Michael playing basketball with him. David's great about doing things with Michael, and he really has a gentle spirit and is very patient.

Then he tied him to the goalpost.

Michael loved it. He was treated just like all the other kids. That's something he doesn't get everywhere else...but you can always count on family. Family will always put you in your place. And then tie you down so you'll stay there.

2008-04-13T20:02:00.002-05:00

Lego Creations

One of FrogBoy's favorite activities is Legoing. For those not in the know, that is the act of playing with Legos. For FrogBoy, it is an art form. He does it constantly. It is really the only thing that holds his attention and brings him joy. And the things he makes are called Lego Creations.

Every Lego Creation produced by FrogBoy is totally symmetrical. Regardless of how intricate and detailed it is, it is going to be Rain Man symmetrical when he's done. Sometimes they are hollow - and have little surprised buried inside - and sometimes they are solid and could shatter glass if tossed in the general direction of a window. They all have one serious thing in common though: They all have very strange, very unique names.

Often it is the "Michaeltron 2000" or the "Dinosaur Eater 6000." We've actually noticed that "2000" is in the name of a lot of the Lego Creations. He always starts with "I call it.." It's really quite entertaining.

This afternoon, he made a new Lego Creation for the Smurf. This was a great conversation:

FrogBoy: "I made it for Meema. I call it the Lego Fountain of Youth 2000. You put tea, chocolate milk or water in here, and FOOSH! Some assembly required. Results may vary."

Awesome.

2008-04-12T19:40:00.003-05:00

Honesty

Does anyone remember the awesome song by Billy Joel about honesty...and how it's so hard to find...and yet so needed by people? Well, let me tell you, you don't have to worry about that in our house.

One of the great selling points of autism is that autistic kids aren't mean, they don't generally manipulate people or situations, and they don't lie. They are so black and white that there's just no room for anything but the truth in their lives.

And so it is with FrogBoy.

Since he was a baby (well, after he outgrew the ethopian baby look), we've told him how precious and cute he is. Just like all parents do with their kids. Only with Froggie, when we say, "You are so sweet," we are answered with, "I know." No matter how many times we try to explain that's not the most polite answer, it doesn't really matter...he's just answering the statement truthfully.

Another example. Last week Froggie had a substitute. Before she came to his class, his teacher made the mistake of asking everyone if they knew which sub she was. Of course, they couldn't place her...so the teacher informed everyone that she's the one who wears too much lipstick. Thankfully, FrogBoy mentioned this to us several days out, which gave us time to deprogram him before her visit.

The first day she was there, FrogBoy didn't want to go to school. He'd heard rumors around the school that she was mean. He got in the car that afternoon and told me, "You know, she wasn't so bad after all." That's Froggie for you.

If I want to know how I look, I make sure I can take the cold, hard, honest truth before I ask FrogBoy. He's not going to play the "Oh, Mommy, you look beautiful" game, and he's not going to mince words. If I look like a giant eggplant on steriods, he's going to tell me.

Even when he SAYS he's lying, he really means he's joking. We've spent a lot of time working with him on the semantics there, because we don't want him getting in trouble at school for "lying" when he was really just kidding around...but so far he still confuses the 2 words. He HAS gotten in trouble at school, but it's because he WOULDN'T lie, not because he did. He did something wrong, his entire class lied and said he didn't do it (they are VERY protective of him), and he would have gotten away with it, but he 'fessed up. And got detention.

One caveat: Whenever Froggie tastes a new food, he feels compelled to gulp it down, and then say, "YUM." This is regardless of whether he likes it or not. You can only tell by how he answers your next question: "Do you want more?" Usually his very honest response: "No thanks." That means it was disgusting, but for some reason he thinks he's supposed to say "YUM" after tasting things.

So there you have it. You won't always hear what you want to hear from him, but you will always hear the truth.

2008-04-12T19:38:00.003-05:00

Favorite Tee - Part 3

Okay, this really has nothing to do with autism...but since both Froggie and Spanky have ADD, and it's my blog, I'm going to share it anyway...

"The great thing about ADD is oh look a squirrel."

I love it. If you know my kids, you know why.

2008-04-10T18:36:00.002-05:00

Baby It's Cold Outside

We have a little issue with FrogBoy. (If you've been reading every day this month, you're probably thinking we have a LOT of little issues with FrogBoy. You would be correct.)

Anyway, FrogBog does not like to be cold. And EVERYTHING makes him cold. It causes great distress every morning, from the time SuperHubby tries to wake him up ("But it's COLD!!"), to the time SH wraps him in a snuggly warm blanket so he'll eat breakfast, to the time I try to get him dressed for school (while he's hiding under said snuggly warm blanket, screaming, "But I'm COLD!!!!!!")

No amount of coaxing or pleading or screaming or threatening helps. It takes an act of Congress to move him along to getting his clothes on. After 10 years, we still haven't convinced him he'll be LESS cold if he puts MORE clothes on.

And this is in the summer months. Forget it during the winter. I'd rather cut off my toe than have to try and get him dressed. It is not fun.

To make matters worse, water makes him even colder, and he isn't particularly fond of getting wet (which is why sometimes we don't leave the house when it's raining), and if water gets in his eyes - water, not soap - he is BLINDED FOR LIFE!!!! Are you seeing where I'm going with this? Bathing the child is a daily battle.

But here's the twist: The minute he walks in the door, whether it's summer or winter, he takes off all his clothes. He streaks around the rest of the evening in just his underwear, possibly socks, and maybe his blanket wrapped around his shoulders for good measure. But HE'S NEVER COLD. I don't understand.

I asked him yesterday why he took off all his clothes. SH suggested it might be because I do the same thing. In my defense, I take off my shoes and my bra and put on a ratty tee when I get home...but I see his point. I'm not much for clothes myself, so while we're blaming the autism for Froggie's naked desires, it may actually just be hereditary.

Lucky Froggie. He takes after me.

2008-04-09T20:07:00.002-05:00

Snarky Thought of the Day

My kid's autistic. What's so special about YOUR kid??

2008-04-09T19:55:00.003-05:00

He Likes It!! Hey Mikey!!

Everyone remembers the Life cereal commercial with the catchphrase, "He likes it! Hey Mikey!" The kid won't eat anything...but he loves Life cereal.

Oh, if only we were so lucky. Apparently one of the "quirks" of autistic kids is that they don't like a lot of variety in their diets. It has to do with the whole sensory issue, although sometimes it just feels like he's a picky eater.

Here's a complete list of the foods FrogBoy will eat:

Waffles (preferrably Lego Eggo waffles) and pancakes
Eggs
Cheese (including "white cheese" - feta - which we totally don't understand)
Mac and cheese - Easy Mac only
Hot dog buns
Cereal
French fries (which he likes to call "a basket of golden fries")
McDonald's chicken nuggets
Chocolate

Sometimes his lack of flexibility in the food area can be a little challenging. Sometimes SuperHubby manages to sneak something in the mix and he eats it before he realizes it's not on his approved list. However, the one thing he will never, EVER eat is corn. I can't even buy corn when he's with me because he protests so loudly. It's a little embarrassing - like he was abused with an ear of corn as a toddler. But I digress.

So whenever we go out to dinner, Froggie orders "a basket of golden fries." He's precious in how he orders though. He always asks "Do you have a basket of golden fries?" The server, of course, has no clue what he's talking about, so we have to start translating. Actually, I have to start translating - SH can't do that in a crowded restaurant. That would be like me standing up in front of a group of people and sharing my deepest, innermost feelings.

Notice all the foods on the approved list are carbs. We're going to have to get this kid active or we'll have a 600 pound, hot dog bun eating teenager on our hands. And at that point, friends, it stops being cute.

2008-04-08T18:21:00.002-05:00

Encyclopedia FrogBoy

Most days, it starts in the car on the way to school. Before 7:00 a.m. Today was no exception.

This morning, it was just me and FrogBoy. We had plenty of time in the 3 minutes it takes to get to school to have a very confusing (for me) conversation.

It started with FrogBoy telling me all about different animals. He loves science - nature, planets, weather - you name it, if it's science, he's all over it. And, being autistic, and frankly just a little annoying at times, he has to repeat every tidbit he knows about a particular subject every time he brings it up.

For example: "Blah, blah, blah...Pluto...which was the smallest planet, but it's not a planet anymore, it's a star. And then there's planet X...blah, blah, blah." It's like this with anything he has any sort of knowledge about. And he reads A LOT.

This morning, he really reminded me of that kid in Jerry Maguire - when he says "Did you know the human head weighs 8 pounds?"

BEFORE 7 a.m., friends, I got: "Have you ever heard of a melon jellyfish?" (I hadn't) "We'll, they're really cool. They're jellyfish that look like melons." (I kinda figured)

Then..."What kind of animal are you interested in knowing more about?" (frankly, at 7 a.m., none) "How about a pygmy rhino?"

"Well, honey, I don't know what a pygmy rhino is. I'm sure it's nice though."

"Oh, you'd love it. It's a rhino, but smaller, and it has a big horn and blah, blah, blah..."

I know, I should have paid more attention. But seriously, this is the kid who plays regular, adult Jeapordy every night, and ALWAYS gets questions right. A bunch of them. And not the stupid "crossword Q" questions. (Those are the ones I get) No, he gets "Polynesian Wars" and "Senators" and "Pollination" and other such nonsense. It's hard to keep up sometimes. He has a great memory for concrete, rote memorization like science and spelling and social studies. Things like math, where he has to make conclusions, are not so good.

Meanwhile, we get schooled daily in the things that interest him (and we're learning some interesting things in the process!), and we get to hear word-for-word movie and TV scripts (an amazing characteristic a lot of autistic kids have called echolalia - which basically means they echo what they've heard in the past - sometimes out of context, sometimes in context - which makes it very difficult to know if they mean it or are just mimicking something they heard Superman say).

All that said - it's like one of my favorite tees:

AUTISM - NEVER A DULL MOMENT!

2008-04-07T06:44:00.003-05:00

Musical Michael

I love music. Sadly, I'm not a very good singer, but I love to sing anyway. I have apparently passed this trait on to both my children (the love of music AND the lack of talent).

Right now, FrogBoy's favorite song is "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Indeed. He saw the video on VH-1's Top 100 1-Hit Wonders - and thought it was hilarious. That's all it took.

So now he sings this song constantly. It's more for the reaction he gets from Spanky than anything else. But he also likes it because he can just insert random things that he's "too sexy" for.

Most mornings, on the way to school, we're hearing some rendition of "I'm Too Sexy," belted out in a very strange, very deep voice..."I'm too sexy for my shirt, to sexy for my bookbag, too sexy for my waffles, too sexy for my underwear..."

It just goes on and on. The more Spanky protests, the longer the song. There's absolutely no rhythm, it makes no sense, but it makes 2/3 of the van laugh so hard we almost pee in our pants. Every single day.

2008-04-05T18:38:00.003-05:00

Awesome Tees Part 2

Back to the site that offers all the autism-related stuff. I misspoke in my earlier post - they have almost 7000 items for autism alone. Now that's what I call hitting a market.

Anyway, one that I really like is:

If you've met one autistic child, you've met one autistic child.

Man, that's the truth. Autism is such a strange disorder. It's classified by certain behaviors. But not everyone has all the behaviors, and certainly not in the same combination. So while FrogBoy is autistic, he's a very sweet, lovable child, which is totally off-kilter for most kids with autism. Most of them don't want to be touched at all; meanwhile, he'll crawl right up in your lap to snuggle. A lot of them don't talk; at times we can't get Froggie to stop.

Like the saying goes: You are 100%, totally unique. Just like everyone else.

2008-04-04T06:40:00.002-05:00

Personality Plus

NEWSFLASH: FrogBoy is autistic. He has autism. That said, let's move on to my point.

Being autistic is NOT who FrogBoy is. It does not define him. Frankly, he doesn't even realize he has the disorder.

FrogBoy is also a very sweet, loving child. He's frequently quite funny. He can build amazing things with Legos and can put together puzzles with thousands of pieces in a snap. He is a spelling whiz (98 average) and reads grade levels above the rest of his class. He stinks at math.

There are times when I think there's a little Mini Me running around; he mimics my words and phrases and mannerisms in a way that surprises even me.

He loves Easy Mac. Not good mac and cheese, Easy Mac. He's a morning person, and the minute he wakes up, he wants breakfast. The minute he has breakfast, he wants dessert. Almost 10 years and we still haven't convinced him you don't get dessert after breakfast.

He likes to burp and he thinks farts are funny. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make Spanky go crazy, and he delights in pushing them frequently. He's just a little boy.

So yes, FrogBoy is autistic. But he's so much more than that. His autism doesn't define him, and it shouldn't limit him. Unfortunately, so many people hear "autism" and think "Rain Man." People don't realize that a child with autism can be as high-functioning as FrogBoy is. When he DOES act out, they think he's just being a brat. When he performs poorly in school, it's "okay" because "Maybe he didn't get it." Well - maybe he didn't get it - but maybe it's just because ancient history isn't his thing.

In our house, we don't allow the autism excuse. It may actually factor in to our decisions, but he doesn't know that, and he won't. I just wish more people would see the child and not the label that has been smacked on him.

He's a great kid. End of story.

2008-04-03T06:44:00.002-05:00

Dancing King

One of the quirky characteristics of people with autism is their tendency to engage in repetitive behaviors. Think of Rain Man rocking back and forth. That's a common one. And yes, every night at our house, we have a certain time set aside for FrogBoy to enjoy "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!" and "This Is...JEOPARDY!" Same deal, every night, without fail. Do it once and it's a routine.

All that to say, FrogBoy loves to spin. He's a spinner. He also chews on his shirts. We spend a lot of money on clothes for the kid because he eats his shirts. These behaviors give him sensory feedback that you and I don't need. But FrogBoy needs it. So he chews. And he spins.

FrogBoy also can't stand to have clothes on. We're not sure if they just irritate him (another sensory issue) or if he just likes being naked, but the minute he walks in the door from school, he strips down to his underwear and is as happy as can be. If we tell him we're going somewhere or someone's coming over, he's fine to stay in his clothes, but if we don't prevent the stripping, off they come, the minute he gets home.

We've also always had issues with FrogBoy getting dressed in the morning. Apparently, it is ALWAYS too cold for him to get dressed - even in the middle of the summer. So it is ALWAYS a big fat hairy deal.

However, several years ago, we got a real treat. When FrogBoy would change his clothes, he would remove the articles one-by-one and spin around and dance and swing the clothing above his head, male-stripper style. He was our own little Chippendales dancer. He would dance until he was tired and then release the clothes mid-spin. We would find underwear behind the bookshelves and hanging off lamps. It was quite enjoyable.

Sadly, the days of the dance party have gone by the wayside. FrogBoy still strips, and he still dances, he just doesn't combine the two anymore.

2008-04-02T06:31:00.002-05:00

Awesome Tee - Part 1

Several months ago, I read an article about a family that has 6 autistic kids. Actually, that's a technicality - they have 6 kids on the spectrum. Two have Asperger's and one has PDD-NOS...but 2 are severely autistic and non-verbal, so if they want to simplify things and say they have 6 autistic kids, I'm not going to argue.

Anyway, I was reading this article and noticed in one of the pictures that one of the non-verbal kids had this great tee-shirt. It said:

I'M AUTISTIC. WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM??

That really tickled me. Sometimes we just have to laugh at the issue at hand - that's the only thing we can do. So I began frantically searching the internet for other awesomely inspiring tees with autistic messages.

I found a site that carries over 3000 autism-related products. Another one I like is:

AUTISM...NEVER A DULL MOMENT.

I'll share more throughout the month. Count on things to get snarkier as the days go by.

2008-04-01T06:49:00.002-05:00

On My Soapbox

Okay, so today is April 1. The first day of Autism Awareness Month. Lucky for you, it's a short month. My intent this month is to post at least one tidbit every day about this uninvited, permanent guest in our lives.

Today, I'll start with something I find interesting. Seems this very intelligent, yet autistic, guy in Dublin, by the name of Michael Fitzgerald (no kidding) did some research to find out about other very intelligent, autistic folks. Here's a short list of historical figures who seemingly were on the spectrum:

Hans Christian Anderson
Lewis Carroll
Albert Einstein (sometimes FrogBoy has the same hair, so I can see this connection)
Thomas Jefferson
Michaelangelo
Mozart
Sir Isaac Newton
George Orwell
Andy Warhol
...and several serial killers...but we're not going to count them.

All that to say, my child is a genius, he just processes things differently than other kids, and if you don't like it, he doesn't care. For that matter, neither do I. He's mine, he's perfect, and I love him.

Happy 1st day of Autism Awareness Month!

Be sure to tune in to CNN tomorrow for their coverage of World Autism Awareness Day.

2008-03-29T16:19:00.002-05:00

Autistic Conversations

I wanted to come up with something clever to call this post...but I just couldn't. Conversations is our house really speak for themselves.

This morning, I was watching the news and, since April is Autism Awareness Month, and I guess everyone's gearing up for it, they were having competing autism stories on all the stations. I was interested in one and was trying to listen, when young FrogBoy joined me in the living room. After reading the caption at the bottom of the TV screen, he promptly asked, "Mommy, what's autism?"

Oh boy. I guess I knew the day would come, I just wasn't prepared. Especially at 8 a.m. I tossed up a quick prayer and started with, "Autism is a neurological disorder..."

Before I could finish my sentence, my precious child said, "Oh, okay."

Clearly he doesn't have an understanding of the term "neurological," nor does he care. He probably recognized the tone in my voice and thought, "Crud, we're going to be here awhile if I don't cut her off fast." Whatever the reason, I was spared the explanation for another day.

A few days ago, though, I had the best conversation with the FrogMan that I can remember.

FrogBoy: "Look, Mommy, this guy lost his arm."
Me: "Oh my. He doesn't have a face either. Have you been chewing on him?"
(This is something he does frequently. It's called - brilliantly - mouthing. In my day, that meant something else entirely - and you got popped if you did it. But I digress.)
FrogBoy: "Yeah. I get hungry."
(I love this kid.)
Me: "Let's not eat him. He's plastic. That's not good."
FrogBoy: "But he tastes good."
Me: "No. You need to not eat plastic. Its bad for you. Throw him away."
FrogBoy: "Can I flush him?"
Me: "No. Put him in the trash."
FrogBoy: "Aw man."

It is this type of wonderful conversation that makes my life so enjoyable. It's the ones we DON'T have that concern me.

2008-03-24T16:48:00.002-05:00

Seriously???

Contrary to popular belief, everything that happens in the Fitzgerald household is not abnormal and totally bizarre. It just feels like it sometimes.

At the end of February, I surprised SuperHubby with a long weekend in Asheville to celebrate his 40th birthday. Go me. The night before we left, after he loaded the washer with all his clothes that he planned to pack, our dryer died. We got it the first Christmas we were married, so it was almost 16 years old...and yet it picked this most inopportune time to die. We've been struggling with drying clothes at random places ever since.

So Friday SH went to Lowe's and bought a new dryer. I had seen a commercial where they would deliver the new one and haul off the old one...FREE. Since "free" is my love language, we decided to go that route. Upon arrival in dryer department at Lowe's, SH discovered that "free" means "if you purchase a dryer that costs more than $397." Seriously? Not $400?? Nope, $397. He bought the $398 model and scheduled the next-day delivery for Monday (keep up - we had to work Saturday and Sunday).

Meanwhile, I had a buttload of errands to run on Saturday, including picking up my dad to bring to church with us. This was an amazing thing that I certainly wasn't going to let pass by. The van had been having the hiccups for about a week but I knew she'd get me to West Ashley (for my dad) and then later the same day to Ravenel (to drop the boys at my aunt's, where they were spending the night so they could be with the family for Easter). While I was running errands, she decided NOT SO MUCH. Seriously?? This is the time we're going to die? I don't think so. I promptly rented a car.

I called Buget Car Rental. When the lovely-accnted woman answered the phone, I asked her where she was located. Her reply? "Right now? The West Coast." SERIOUSLY???? I had to explain to her that what I REALLY needed to know was where to pick up the car I was renting. WOW. I thought stupid stuff like that happened only in forwarded emails.

We all squeezed into SH's car and made a mad dash for the airport before SH had to leave for work. They upgraded me to an SUV, which was super cool. It had to be returned today. At the same time the dryer was being delivered. And I couldn't find anyone to drop me and the car off. So on the one day when we don't have kids, we're exhausted, and we could - in theory - sleep late, we were on the road at 8:15 to take the car back.

Meanwhile, the Lowe's guys were 2 hours late (who didn't see that coming?). I didn't care. I've never been so excited about doing laundry in all my life. Of course, every time we turn the dryer on, it throws the breaker in our laundry room. The only thing worse than not having a dryer is having a dryer that sits there and taunts you.

My weekend wrap-up? I don't have a car, my dryer doesn't work, my children are on spring break, one of them acts like he's getting a cold, and my medical insurance still owes me $700+ in reimbursements (sorry - that one's never going to NOT be a topic on my blog!). The good news? My dad went to church with me, we had 34 services at Seacoast - over 14000 people! - and even though I worked all day Sunday, I can't imagine anywhere I would have rather been.

2008-03-17T15:42:00.003-05:00

Not the Sharpest Hook in the Tackle Box

Three weeks ago today, I lost my mind. I felt compelled to get FrogBoy a fish. I wanted him to learn a little responsibility, and thought a pet would be fun. We are a dog family, but since the pet fee at our apartment is $350, and SuperHubby is a dog snob and will only have purebred dogs, and I refuse to spend (as if I could) $1000 on a dog...well, a fish seemed the way to go.

Not wanting to leave anyone out, I offered to get Spanky a fish as well. Seemed like a good idea at the time. We made a quick visit to our local Petsmart and walked away with 2 fish, 2 fishbowls, and a variety of items to care for our new housemates. All told I spent less than $50, which I felt was a pretty good investment. Even if they died, the fish were only $2.99 each.

One thing I didn't factor in was that we were leaving that weekend - for the whole weekend. That meant I had to have a fish-sitter. How embarrassing is that? So I asked the Smurf to come over and feed the fish. I told her it wasn't a big deal...they are only supposed to get 2 pellets a day...so if she just came once she could pop in 2 pellets and that would take care of the whole weekend (we fed them before we left).

Imagine my surprise when we got home and both fishbowls were covered with pellets. Apparently she thought I said "2 pinches of pellets." But we got over that hurdle.

One of the reasons I chose this particular brand of fish - betta fish - is that they are hard to kill and cheap to replace. However, they fight each other - their other name is Japanese Fighting Fish - which explains the "2 of everything" thing.

Meanwhile, the boys had to name their fish. Spanky chose the ever popular "The Punisher" for his. FrogBoy went with "Lego." Who didn't see that coming?

Things were going really well until Saturday before church. As is my usual daily comment, I walked over to The Punisher's bowl and said, "Spanky, your fish is dead." Only this time I wasn't kidding.

Poor Spanky. He comes over to the bowl and says, "No Mommy, you just have to tap it and he'll move." He didn't.

And at that point I realized something. The stupid fish had drowned. Yes, only in our house could a fish drown. But he did. His little fish head was stuck in the rocks on the bottom of the bowl. I'm pretty sure he was trying for a piece of food that got lodged down there. But he's definitely dead.

We flushed him. Spanky scooped him out and tossed him in the toilet like a pro. Then he declared that he was done with pets because they all die, and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

One down, one to go.

2008-02-25T15:15:00.002-05:00

And the Winner is...

Last night, I stayed up and watched the Academy Awards. I've never done that before. Now I know why.

For starters, I'm a morning person. Which means I got to bed by 10:00 - on a late night. So staying up until almost midnight to see a bunch of snooty people get awards I doubt they deserve or appreciate really doesn't interest me. But I wanted to do it so I could say I'd done it, and now, thank heaven, I never have to endure that torture again.

There were some highlights to my evening, however:

Gary Busey accosted Jennifer Garner on the red carpet. She looked like she might throw up all over him and Ryan Seacrest. And I'm pretty sure Gary wouldn't have noticed, because he was feeling NO PAIN.

When Javier Bardem won for Best Supporting Actor, he thanked his mom...who was his date...and did it in Spanish. She cried. That's always cool.

When Marion Cotillard won for Best Actress in a film I can't even pronounce, much less ever even heard of, she was amazed. She had nothing prepared and just said "I love love! I love life!" When she walked the red carpet earlier, she mentioned she'd never even watched the Oscars. Nice.

The Best Original Song winners were a man/woman team. The guy got up and hogged the mic and the poor mousy little girl didn't get to say a word before they started the "get off the stage" music. After the break, Jon Stewart - recognizing that her moment had been stolen from her - had her come back out to say her thank you's. She actually said something relatively smart too. I liked that.

There was actually a slip-n-slide area next to one of the podiums. First Colin Ferrell, then John Travolta, slid to their almost-doom. I kept hoping someone would go down, but alas, I was disappointed.

I didn't stay up to watch the last 2 awards (Best Director and Best Picture). At that point I just didn't care anymore. None of my picks were winning anyway. Plus I was really tired. I just don't understand what all the fuss is about. Of course, I also don't like seeing movies in actual theaters - it takes to much time out of my life - so maybe the whole thing just isn't for me.

2008-02-21T07:34:00.002-05:00

Technical Difficulties

Just about every person I know who has a blog has a little blip on the side of their blog, usually to the right, that has links to the fabulous blogs they read. I don't read their blogs if I'm not on that list. However, I don't have one of those lists.

I'd like to say there's some impressive reason for that. I do actually feel like by listing blogs on your own personal blog, you're almost endorsing what that other person says...and what if they say something really stupid? This is almost guaranteed if I'm listed on your blog, by the way.

However, my failure to list other blog links is not at all that well intentioned. It is, sadly, lack of knowledge in how to make the list appear.

Seriously people, I once asked my boss what was wrong with my computer...and he asked me if it was on (it wasn't).

Recently, Blogger has decided I can no longer post pictures to my blog, and I can no longer bold words. I am 100% certain this is entirely my fault; however, I don't really care, because I'd like very much to be able to do both of these things.

I guess I'll have to do something I don't enjoy at all - I'm going to have to ask for help.

2008-02-20T17:47:00.002-05:00

Quite Possibly the Best Idea Ever...

I am really just a wealth of great ideas. Ask anyone. No, forget it; just ask me - I'm more inclined to tell the truth about something like this. Other people tend to just be jealous of my fabulous ideas and then pretend like they're really stupid.

Currently I have a great idea. And I mean GREAT. What, you ask, would that be?!

Breakfast delivery.

Indeed.

I'm not talking cereal, friends; I'm talking eggs and hashbrowns (with cheese and onions please) and grits and bacon. A good country breakfast. Maybe some biscuits and gravy. Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about. And a huge glass of sweet tea to make it all go down just right.

Why has no one thought of this? If they can deliver a pizza to my door, why not breakfast? In my family, we eat breakfast for dinner all the time. And who doesn't love a fried egg sandwich?

Granted, they'd have to move pretty quick...grits and gravy both congeal pretty fast once they hit air. But in heaven, I'm pretty sure I'll be getting breakfast delivered to my bed on a daily basis.

2008-02-19T17:23:00.003-05:00

Same Stink, Different Deductible

Oh, the insurance woes. Does it ever cease?

I believe I mentioned earlier this month how over the moon I was that we had met our deductible (thank you, Spanky, and your nasty little appendix). I figured it would be October before we met the $5500 deductible, and so the insurance plan wasn't working out so well for us. Then Spanky had surgery, and things got a lot better a lot quicker. Because once you meet your deductible, everything in network is covered 100%.

NOT SO MUCH.

A couple of weeks ago I went to fill 2 prescriptions. I needed them both desperately; there was no waiting around. It was okay; my deductible is met, so I didn't have to pay anything. Or so I thought.

When I drove around to the window, my friendly pharmacist said, "That'll be $284.98 please." I said, "Um, I've already met my deductible!" And frankly, I was a bit smug when I said it.

At that point, said pharmacist, who happened to be the same guy who at the end of last year couldn't tell me how much prescriptions cost until he charged me for them (isn't it beside the point then?), informed me that the pharmacy has no way of knowing if I've met my deductible. Basically, girlfriend, you're outta luck.

So I paid. And I cursed.

Come to find out, the wonderful insurance company lets us pay for the prescriptions, even after we've met our deductible, and then they reimburse us. And they reserve the right to take up to 30 days to do this.

Somehow that doesn't feel like "after you meet your deductible, you don't have to pay for anything out of pocket." I don't have $900 of fluff in my checking account...ever! ($900 is the monthly cost of prescriptions in our house.) Now I realize that they're reimbursing me, but a month is a long time, and I'm not quite sure they understand the meaning of "out of pocket."

I know people have it worse than me. I know people who do. I'm just tired of getting screwed by the insurance companies who look for ways out of their obligations. And on top of that, they keep raising their rates. I'm just thankful I got out of that business and got a real job.