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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Snarky Thought of the Day

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Everything 80s is Cool Again

In my humble opinion, being a child of the 80s, everything 80s is cool STILL. That may have something to do with the total lack of musical talent (combine everyone with supposed talent from 1990 to the present and they would fit in Jon Bon Jovi's left pinky toe...with room left over). We also had the best movies ever. (On Valentine's Day I happily caught the last 10 minutes of Pretty in Pink...and was thrilled to gaze at the awesomeness of Jake Ryan once again.) And we had the best TV shows ever.

So this past week I was watching the news, and to my great surprise and delight discovered they are bringing back a classic. Yep, that's right...KITT is back.

My first thought was "Spanky is gonna love that show." That was quickly followed by "Who am I kidding?? I can't wait!"

There's just nothing like a talking car.

Body Buzz

My mother sent me an email several weeks ago that I wanted to share, but I got caught up in Spanky having one of his body parts removed, and I forgot to post it. Luckily, I didn't forget forever.

Following is a list of little-known facts about the human body. Read and enjoy.

* Scientists say the higher your IQ, the more you dream. (In case anyone is wondering, I dream ALL THE TIME)
* The largest cell in the human body is the female egg. The smallest is the male sperm. (No comment)
* You use 200 muscles to take one step. (See, I DO exercise!)
* The average woman is 5 inches shorter than the average man.
* Your big toes have 2 bones each while the rest of your toes have 3.
* A pair of human feet contains 250,000 sweat glands. (This explains a lot)
* A full bladder is roughly the size of a softball. (That's gross)
* The acid in your stomach is strong enough to dissolve razor blades.
* The human brain cell can hold 5 time as much information as the Encyclopedia Britannica. (Unless you're the Professor, who actually read the encyclopedia for pleasure as a child...then all bets are off)
* It takes food seven seconds to get from your mouth to your stomach. (Is that quicker for women because they're shorter?)
* The average human dream lasts 23 seconds.
* Men without hair on their chests are more likely to get cirrhosis of the liver than men with hair. (Can you imagine the grant application for funding of this research?!)
* At the moment of your conception, you spent about half an hour as a single cell. (I know a couple of people who never got past that point)
* There are about one trillion bacteria on each of your feet.
* Your body gives off enough heat in 30 minutes to bring a half gallon of water to a boil. (I'm HOT)
* Your teeth start growing 6 months before you're born.
* When you're looking at someone you love, your pupils dilate. They do the same thing when you're looking at someone you hate. (Very interesting...)
* Your thumb is the same length as your nose. (We actually tested this one in my office...and it appears to be true...except for freaks - Shawn - who have thumbs of two different lengths)

So those are your freaky facts for the day. I'm sure you're as enlightened as I was.
One more...

It is physically impossible to lick your elbow.
(Stop trying - it really is impossible)

I Win! I Win! I Want My Prize!!!

This year, the church went to a new high deductible health insurance policy. SuperHubby has his own policy, which comes with a $2750 deductible, and the boys are under my policy, which has a $5500 deductible. That means our total deductible for the year is $8250. Yikes.

We have to pay 100% until our deductible is met. Then the insurance pays 100% for the rest of the year. This might actually help us.

We figured SH would meet his deductible rather quickly. He takes over $400 in medicines each month, and he has physical therapy (for that ear issue) once a week, which is again more than $400 a week. For those weak in math, that's about $2000 in one month. I figured by March he'd be home free.

Who knew Spanky would end up having his appendix out? And to top it off, would spend 5 days in the hospital? All the bills are not yet in, and our total cost for that little visit stands at $26000+.

But the beauty of it is, we only have to pay $5000. (We had already shelled out $500 for 2 measly prescriptions, but that's not important here). The point is, we have $5000 to pay toward the surgery and the rest is covered.

It gets better. Since FrogBoy has Medicaid (because of the autism), it was GOING to take me and Spanky until October to meet our $5500 deductible...but because of the surgery, we met our deductible by January 21. Sweet.

I still can't believe we met our family deductible before SH met his individual deductible, but that's what I get for thinking. Even though I hate insurance, I am grateful that we have it, that it is working for us (this year, anyway) and that everyone in my house is semi-healthy (today).

False Advertising

We have a local glass replacement shop that frequently advertises (translation: all the time) on the radio. I get the pleasure of hearing their commercials several times a day. And frankly, I'm disgusted.

Said glass replacement shop touts that they will replace your windshield "FOR FREE" if you have insurance. DUH! If you have comprehensive insurance coverage, ANY glass replacement company will replace your windshield for free. This, friends, is false advertising. Or at least very deceptive advertising.

This particular company goes on to say that if you DON'T happen to have insurance, they will quote you a very good price on replacing your windshield. How kind. And nebulous, considering "very good" is quite the subjective term.

Every time I hear this commercial, I just get angry. Maybe it's because they're playing around with people who don't know any better. Maybe it's because it reminds me of the bad old days when I was an insurance agent. Maybe I'm just moody this month.

Whatever the reason, mark my words: this company will not be getting any business from the Fitzgerald household. I'm wise to their tricks.

MOM OF THE YEAR

Yep, that's me. This morning, I secured my spot for at least the rest of 2008. I scored a Wii.

It hasn't been easy. Spanky wanted one for his birthday, and decided to save up all the money he would get from EVERYONE to get it. Then he also had to kick in some of his allowance. I knew he was serious when he agreed to give up all his birthday money and actually SAVE his allowance up to get the thing.

Unfortunately, his birthday is 17 days after Christmas, so it was really hard to find a Wii. I got a break from my little search when he had his appendix out - but after going back to school this week, his interest was back up and he started asking if I could find one...PLEASE.

So being the awesome mom I am, I got up early this morning and hit a local electronics store, which I personally hate. However, I will say they were very organized in their Wii-dealings. I got there 30 minutes before they opened, and 10 people had gotten there before me. They had 16 Wiis. But - and here's the smart thing - they were giving out vouchers. I was #13. However, when they opened the doors, I was the first one in line. They handed me Wii #13 and I was home in a mere matter of minutes, basking in the glow of my coolness.

So...Spanky has his Wii and I feel like Mom Extraordinnaire...but we haven't seen him all day. I guess that's the price you pay. Maybe tomorrow he'll let us play with it.

SuperDaddy
...or, My Life Bites

I guess it's only fair. However, it still came as a shock to me when Spanky decided this week, during his stay at MUSC, that he preferred Daddy over Mommy. When did this happen?! As best as I can tell, it went something like this...

Jan 11 - Spanky turned 13
Jan 11 + 3 seconds - Spanky decided Daddy was the parent of choice

Now this was a difficult thing for me. Let's face it: I've always been the favorite. (Before you start sending in nasty comments, SH would agree with this point, so it's not like I'm stating anything but fact there.)

Anyway, Spanky never really went to sleep after his surgery Monday night. He rested when they gave him pain medicine, but he never really slept. And when I tried to send SH home for a nap and a shower on day 2, Spanky really threw a fit. He allowed SH to leave, but under much protest. Then the nurse came in and suggested we change his gown. Bad idea. I tried talking sense to him. I tried consoling him. Nothing. Then he said something that almost made me laugh. Or cry. Or cuss.

"I need Daddy. He has EXPERIENCE with this sort of thing."

EXCUSE ME?!?!?

In my ever sweet, loving way, I asked my son who the heck he thought took care of Daddy when HE has surgery. Then came blow # 2. "He takes care of himself." OUCH.

It really took everything I had in me not to lecture him right then and there. He was incapicitated, so he would have had to have listened. I opted for a mere "Kid, you need to face reality" and moved on. Still, it stung.

Spanky has been at MUSC since Monday afternoon. Yes, for those counting, that's 4 days - for a normally 24-hour operation. I have had plenty of time to wallow in self-pity this week concerning the things my child has said to me. I am quite sure he never would have done that if he'd had surgery before he was a teenager.

Meanwhile, he probably gets to come home tomorrow, providing his colon wakes up. All other signs of "issues" have left the Spankster, so we're well on the way to "normal" (whatever that is!)

Like Father, Like Son

Let's cut to the chase: right now it is 1:30 a.m., and if you know anything about me, you're wondering what on earth I'm doing up at such an ungodly hour. Well, I'll tell you. We've been at MUSC all day with Spanky - having his appendix removed.

Honestly.

It all started about 2 hours after he returned from a weekend youth retreat at church. Apparently Scott can take him away for a week at a time, three years in a row, but give him to Mike and Ernest for 48 hours and he comes back in need of having parts removed.

He came home and was starving. So we fed the boy. We're good parents like that. A couple of hours later, he's laying on the sofa, moaning. He is nothing if not a Drama King. SuperHubby banished him to the upstairs because, frankly, the moaning gets old pretty quickly. An hour later, he barfs all over the bathroom (walls, tub, floor, you name it. It was ugly. And no, I did NOT clean it up. That's SH's job. My job is snot.)

Then Spanky goes to bed. Forever. He doesn't move. This is not good. I figure he's just really tired from barfing all that nastiness up and being awake all weekend on his retreat. But this morning, he fell asleep on his floor and didn't move. All day. I explained to SuperHubby my fear: because of the moaning and major showboating, I have always had this fear that the child will have appendicitis but we'll think it's just a hangnail and ignore it. And we almost did.

But we called the doctor and they saw him; then they sent him to MUSC to "rule out" appendicitis. Three doctors later, they'd ruled it IN and were planning on surgery. The big problem? I was stranded at home because SH had taken my car - because his car was in dire straights. Now who wants to be a Fitzgerald?

I called everyone I knew. I couldn't get anyone on the phone. And frankly, I was a little frantic. Not nearly as calm as when its SH on the table. I finally got the Smurf and she came and ran me to the ER and took FrogBoy to spend the night with her. Then we spent the next several hours waiting through a gunshot wound and a pediatric heart transplant, which pretty much bummed me out.

Other than the resident who felt compelled to discuss the possible complications of surgery while standing over my 13-year-old's bed, the entire staff was fantastic. Spanky did great and came through like a trooper. I was really proud of him. And man, did he look like his daddy. If SH hadn't been sitting next to me, I would have sworn it was him in that bed.

And so ends another exciting day in the Fitzgerald household. It is January 21 and we have met our $5500 family deductible already. I discovered that my son can be very brave when he has to be, and I am extremely proud of the way he handled himself throughout the whole ordeal. And like I told him earlier (when he was still dopey and probably won't remember it) - he can hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives. We kind of thought he was just being dramatic.

That's AUNT GOOFBALL, Thank You Very Much

Somehow I have gone from being a cute, sassy, queen-of-it-all to being a giant gooberhead in a single week. I expect geekdome from The Professor; I really didn't think I'd be joining in at such a young age.

I tried to figure out when it started. I think it may have been last week. SuperHubby was unable to take Spanky and some buddies to see I Am Legend for Spanky's birthday. I figured that wouldn't be an issue. I really wanted to see the movie myself, so I invited The Professor to join me and we just punted. No biggie.

Until I mentioned it to Spanky. Apparently it was okay for Daddy to sit in the same auditorium as the boys, and it was fine if Uncle Larry sat in the same ROW as them, but when I mentioned I was going, the child thought I was smoking crack. I finally had to promise to merely fork over about $100 for their tickets and snacks, then act like I didn't know them for the next 2 hours. I could feel the love.

Then on Monday of this week, SuperHubby's younger sister had a baby. For those keeping track at home, this makes me an aunt for the 11th time. As of a year and a half ago, I am also a great-aunt. Now I realize that the major factor in this is SuperHubby and his weirdo family. There are 5 kids, with a 17-year age gap between the first and the last, which makes for a lot of nieces and nephews. With the Salleys, 2 kids was a big family, so I'm still a little amazed that I have 11 little people calling me Aunt Lori.

Then last night came. The final straw. My oldest nephew from my brother and sis-in-law was in his school's middle school play. Actually, he was the main character. Other than Annie, but I think that was just an oversight. They play really should have been called Daddy Warbucks and some Random Orphan. But I digress.

So we go to the play, he's amazing, and everything seems fine. I mean, I teared up a few times during the play, but I regained my composure pretty well. Plus it was dark, which always helps when you're about to embarrass yourself.

After the play, we all gathered around to tell him how great he did. And somehow, at that moment in my life, I went from totally cool to totally NOT in 0.4 seconds flat. I started bawling like a baby. I couldn't talk. Poor kid was patting me on the back and telling me it was okay and probably wondering what the heck my problem was. I tried to compose myself and just lost it again completely. I'm misting up even now.

I think the problem started when he allowed me to hug him. In public. He's 14, so that alone explains that statement. But somehow, when I watched him on that stage and then later told him how proud I was of him, the only image I could conjure up in my mind was April 8, 1994, when SuperHubby and I drove to Columbia and I held my brother's hours-old firstborn child.

Our kids are growing up. Spanky is already 13 and FrogBoy will be 10 in June. What I wouldn't give for a magic pill that would allow them to stay little forever.

Spanky Update

A couple of days ago I posted about Spanky getting in trouble at school. He's been sweating bullets ever since. After torturing the kid for almost a week, the school finally called me today. It was all I could do to remain calm during the conversation with the woman who called me.

Apparently, several 13-year-old boys were doing what 13-year-old boys do: they were talking when they were told specifically not to talk. Okay, I'm fine with that. I'm even 100% fine with punishing them for their crime. However, I think the school may have gone just a bit overboard.

There are 5 possible punishments when you receive a referral. They are:
1. Lunch detention
2. After school detention
3. Saturday school
4. In school suspension
5. Out of school suspension

I knew there was no way they'd go nutso and suspend the boys, so I figured I'd flow with whatever punishment was doled out. Then the office clerk called me. She made the crime sound very serious. She even sounded a little disappointed when I told her that Spanky had confessed the entire thing to us last week. I think she was hoping to get him in trouble.

Then she said, "Since I don't know who did what, I'm punishing them all the same. I didn't want to give them ISS (in school suspension), so I'm giving them all Saturday school. This Saturday."

Okay, the kid broke the rules. He talked when he wasn't supposed to. But Saturday school? For that?! Seriously, aren't there more serious things happening in school that deserve that punishment? What do they do when they catch someone doing something BAD? I mean, this was his first infraction, and not all that serious, by the way, and they act like he committed a cardinal sin.

I promptly informed the office clerk that he would NOT be serving Saturday school this weekend, as he is going out of town with his church youth group. I did agree to have him serve the next time they have it, which is in 2 weeks. I figure maybe he'll learn his lesson and we can prevent this scenario from repeating itself.

Meanwhile, I tell SuperHubby about it and he wants to know if we can appeal the ruling. This is only humorous if you know us, since I'm usually the one arguing for the boy and SH is usually the one saying "MORE PUNISHMENT!!"

Spanky's biggest complaint wasn't Saturday school...it was that they ALSO said he dared another kid to bite his finger. And so ends another dramatic evening in the Spankster's life.

13

Today is Spanky's 13th birthday. There is no possible way that this can be true, and yet that's what the calendar tells me.

For those who don't know the story, I had a seizure when I was 35 weeks pregnant with Spanky. Never had one before, but boy did I do it right the first time. I went into labor. When we got to the hospital (I was at work, and they weren't exceptionally bright people, so it took a few minutes) I had another seizure...and we both stopped breathing. We almost died.

After an emergency C-section, I spent the next 2 days in la-la land. When I woke up, I didn't even remember being pregnant (it came back to me after they told me I had a baby). Spanky spent a week in neonatal ICU. It was a rough week. Poor SuperHubby had to deal with all that and family too.

So this year, as I wallow in self-pity over how old I must be to have a 13-year-old, I have to thank God that He saved us. I tried saving some pix but apparently I'm not smart enough to make my computer work; sevearal weeks ago I screwed it up and things haven't been the same with posting since.

Anyway, happy birthday Spanky. I will show off your baby pictures another day.

Trouble with a Capital "S"

Spanky really stepped in it this time, friends. He comes home from school this afternoon, and with the most serious face he can muster, tells SuperHubby, "I have something to tell you." Uh-oh.

That's when the waterworks started. There was major snottage. He cried like a little girl. (Later, when I pointed this out, he told me he cried "like a man." I had to remind him that men don't cry like that - ever.)

Seems the Spankster got a referral at school. Two days before his big birthday. Not good timing. The best he can tell us is that he was talking in class when his teacher was out and she says she warned them that if they got written down for disobeying the substitute, they would get a referral. So his very serious reasoning for the referral was "But I didn't hear her say that!"

The child was hysterical. I thought he might hyperventilate. We asked what the punishment was. He had no idea. So I called the school. Apparently it can range from lunch detention to full-blown suspension. And my child, who has never been in BIG TROUBLE at school, is completely confident that they are kicking him out. For talking in class. Four months ago. (Yes, this happened at the beginning of the year, and the teacher is just now doling out the referrals. I don't quite understand that, but she just had a baby - 4 months ago - so maybe she's sleep deprived.)

Being totally awesome parents, SH and I informed Spankarooni that he would have to serve his punishment - because he did break the rules - but that we were sure the school wouldn't go overboard with said punishment. SH - in a great moment of parenting - asked what lesson had been learned. Spanky said he learned not to talk in class. Not wanting to leave well enough alone, I chimed in and asked what OTHER lesson he'd learned. Apparently he'd learned to give his mother a blank stare. I finally shared with him that he should obey the rules, whether he's reminded to or not. He and SH both looked at me like I had barfed up a unicycle on the living room carpet, but I thought it was good. SH took my first answer anyway.

So goes another day in the Fitzgerald household. I'm still waiting on my call from the school to tell me about my child's horrible infraction against humankind. I hope I can act upset when they call.

If Ignorance is Bliss...

...then the people at my drugstore must be absofreakinlutely giddy.

We just went to a high deductible health insurance plan at the church. That means that we have to pay for our prescriptions and/or doctor visits, etc. until we reach our deductible. So of course, last night I had to refill my prescription.

You would think this would be an easy task. Not so. Following is the actual conversation I had with the pharmacy tech...

Pharmacy Tech: "Do you have insurance?"

Me: "Yes, but we just changed to a different plan, and we don't have the cards yet."

Pharmacy Tech: "We don't have any record of your insurance."

Me: "Right. It's a high deductible policy, so I have to pay for the prescription."

Pharmacy Tech: "Well then you're going to have to pay cash for it."

Me (thinking): Why would I have to pay CASH? Could I not give them my debit card? And didn't she just repeat what I just said?

Me (out loud): "Okay. How much is it?"

Pharmacy Tech: "Well, we didn't really have all of your prescription."

Me: "How much do you have?"

Pharmacy Tech: "20 pills."

Me: "I take 300 pills a month. That's only 2 days worth."

At this point, the Pharmacy Manager came over, because apparently I had used up my allotted time in the drive thru.

Me: "I need to know how much my prescription costs."

Pharmacy Manager: "Oh, I can't tell you that until I bill you."

Me: "Okay."

Pharmacy Manager: "I can't bill you until I have the full amount of your prescription. It's the law."

Me: "Okay. Can I get the 20 pills you have. I really need the prescription."

Pharmacy Manager: "Okay."

Me: "And can you tell me how much it will be each month?"

(This was apparently the wrong question, as he looked like his head might explode.

Pharmacy Manager: "Well, I really can't tell you until I bill it, but I'd guess about $300 a month."

(Okay, so now we're just guessing. Nice.)

Me: "Online it said it would cost about $200 a month."

Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno."

Me: "Okay. Can you at least increase your monthly order to include my prescription. I have been coming here for several months and you never have the full amount of my prescription. In fact, you usually only have a couple of days worth."

Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno. I guess I can try to up the order, I'm not sure."

(Okay, seriously, who made THIS GUY manager?)

Bottom line, I ended up leaving the pharmacy with 2 days of my prescription, in a very aggravated state, and realizing that because they didn't have what I needed, I won't be able to file the $300 or $200 or whatever my prescription actually ends up costing with my flex spending for reimbursement until after this week's cutoff. Which means I'll have to wait more than a week to be reimbursed that money. And we generally don't have an extra $200 in the budget.

Meanwhile, I really hate this pharmacy now, but it's really close to our house, and it is 24-hours, which is something that often comes in handy in our house. So I'm stuck.

At this point, I can't decide who I despise dealing with more...the drugstore or the insurance company.

Have a DE-Lightful 2008!

This morning, as I was driving to work at 6:45 (because my stupid internal clock doesn't realize that when the boys sleepover at my aunt's house, that means I should get to sleep in), I noticed that there was a very upsetting trend occurring in Mt. Pleasant. There are many, many houses, and many, many neighborhoods, that still have their Christmas lights up. Tacky.

Before I get all sorts of grief over this, I'm all for having a festive wreath on your front door. I have a seasonal wreath for every month of the year. (I know what you're thinking: of course I do.) I am also not at all offended by those folks who decorate in a very subtle fashion for Christmas and then leave the lights up for the better portion of January. Key word being SUBTLE.

What gets me is the people who still have plastic nativities in their front yards. Christmas wreaths adorning every single window in their house (which frankly is a bit much in December, but that's not the point right now). And if the lights you have out are red and green, its time for them to go.

My sis-in-law is planning on leaving her lights out a bit longer. That's cool. They are small and white. No problem. And there's a house on my way to work that decorated their palmetto trees with lights...which would be really cool if they didn't give them purple trunks. I've lived in Charleston my whole life and I've never seen a purple palmetto tree. But when you pass a house with reindeer still in the yard and blinking mismatched Christmas lights on the porch, friends, that is just unacceptable.

I've heard that it's bad luck to leave your decorations up past December 31. You're not supposed to hit January 1 with the stuff still up. I don't know the origin - maybe someone with good taste just said it once and it stuck.

Anyway, after you get your decorations down, I hope you have a Happy New Year!!

The New Phone Books are Here! I'm Somebody Now!!

I couldn't fall asleep last night. I wanted to; I just couldn't. I tried everything in my arsenal. I said all the states in alphabetical order. I said all the state capitals in alphabetical order. Then REVERSE alphabetical order. NOTHING.

It was time for the big guns. I counted backwards from 1299 to 0. Twice. Still nothing. By now it was midnight and I was just a little cranky, frankly. I started listing 5-letter nouns - in alphabetical order. (Yes, I lack imagination). STILL NOTHING.

Somehow I came up with the thought of that game "Six Degrees of Separation." I figured if everyone is connected to Kevin Bacon by 6 degrees or less, then they must be connected to me in the same way. Surely I'm as popular as Kevin Bacon.

It didn't take long (seriously, about 5 minutes) before I made a 2-degree connection between me and Oprah. That's not something I'm proud of, but it does help where I'm going with this. See, in my former life as an insurance agent, I worked at a company with a branch in Columbia. And one of the employees that I mingled with every Christmas for 5 years had a daughter who just up and vanished one year. It was huge news here. And he managed to get on Oprah to talk about it. And you know what that means...

I am only 3 degrees of separation from every single person who has ever been on Oprah. Hello, Will Smith. Hello, Harry Connick Jr. And most importantly, Hello, Jon Bon Jovi!!!

(Let's all just reflect for a moment on the hotness that is Jon Bon Jovi. OK)

Needless to say, this little exercise didn't do much to help me fall asleep. But it sure made me feel important for about 3 minutes.

Top 5 Things That Jingled My Bells This Christmas

1. Spanky got a TV video game "thing" that is like a bad Wii...but it's still pretty cute. It has boxing, baseball and tennis. Watching the kid try to beat the video boxer had me on the floor in stitches this morning.

2. Every single time FrogBoy opened a gift, regardless of whether he knew what it was or not, he exclaimed, "OH, THANK YOU!!! It's just what I've ALWAYS wanted!!"

3. We had 4 generations of my family - the tapestry that makes it up on the holidays - sitting in my aunt's den watching "The Best of Weird Al Yankovick" videos. THAT was awesome!

4. I got the best card ever from Zach. It was a Hannakuh card. He carefully went through and replaced "Hannakuh" with "Christmas" to make it holiday-appropriate.

5. I got furry lined Crocs. VERY nice.

Last year, my grandmother was in the hospital, so we couldn't all be together at my aunt's. Thanksgiving, Spanky and SuperHubby were home sick. Today we were all together - and relatively healthy - so that was superb.

On the way home, I decided to stop by my mom's house. Her husband worked all day, so she'd been alone. We managed to surprise her and it was PRICELESS.

And we saw SuperHubby's mom and grandpop...which we normally do, but on some other day than Christmas Day. They came to our house this morning.

So it was a very busy day, but very wonderful, and I'm super-thankful for all my family, even though most of them drive me nuts on a regular basis. If it weren't for them, what would I write about?

Super Support

So yesterday, as I was driving SuperHubby home from physical therapy, because I am a kind, considering, caring wife that way, I told him about something I was thinking about doing. A little writing venture that I felt like God might want me to take on. And do you know what the love of my life did?

He laughed out loud.

Guess who's walking next week?

ShopFest 2007

Every year, a month or two before Christmas, my mother-in-law (The Smurf) and I spend a good portion of the day shopping. Sometimes the boys go with us (we don't get much accomplished when that happens); other times, it's just the two of us, which is a glorious thing.

This year, we didn't get to do our annual shopping until this past weekend. That's right, the second weekend before Christmas, and we were out in the craziness. What's worse was that I had no choice...because of SuperHubby's physical therapy schedule, the Mom Taxi has been running overtime up and down the highway, which meant no time to shop. You can't exactly buy presents for your kids when they're always with you.

So Saturday we left at 8:15 a.m. First I went out and got my family breakfast (donuts and coffee for SH, munchkins for the boys) and a newspaper. I picked The Smurf up at 8:15 and we hit the ground running. We shopped. We thought we would drop. But we didn't. Long story short, we got home at 9:30 p.m. - and neither of us was even slightly tired. I think I could have gone for several more hours, but at that point I was done.

Yep, I managed to put off 90% of my shopping until the week before Christmas, and I got it all done in one day. We even hit some super sales. Who knew? I'm usually done with my shopping in August, so this was a whole new experience for me.

To all those who still have shopping to do, I feel for you. It's crazy out there. I don't plan on going back outside until December 26. But I will say ShopFest 2007 was a raging success. And a new tradition may have been born.

How Smart Are You?

This is a quiz for people who think they know everything. These are not trick questions.

My mother sent me this quiz. I was really impressed with myself because I got most of the questions right. I only missed two.

How smart are you? Extra points if you can guess the 2 I missed...

1. Name the one sport in which neither the participants nor the spectators know the score or the leader until the contest ends.

2. What famous North American landmark is constantly moving backward?

3. Of all vegetables, only two can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons. All other vegetables must be replanted every year. What are the only two perennial vegetables?

4. What fruit has its seeds on the outside?

5. In many liquor stores, you can buy pear brandy, with a real pear inside the bottle. The pear is whole and ripe, and the bottle is genuine; it hasn't been cut in any way. How did the pear get inside the bottle?

6. Only three words in standard English begin with the letters "dw" and they are all common words. Name two of them.

7. There are 14 punctuation marks in English grammar. Can you name at least half of them?

8. Name the only vegetable or fruit that is never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked or in any other form except fresh.

9. Name 6 or more things that you can wear on your feet beginning with the letter "s."

I told my mother not to send this to The Professor. If he gets more than me, I'll cry in my cereal until morning. However, I really don't see that happening. Without the incessant ticking of the Jeopardy clock, I believe I may have him beat!

Christmas List

A friend of mine sent me one of those emails where you answer the questions and forward it to all your friends...then hopefully they'll do the same...and you'll all learn something new about each other. I don't have that many friends, so I figured I'd just put my answers on my blog and maybe some random stranger in Michigan might read it. How fun.

This is a Christmas dealio, hence the blog title. Here we go...

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Both

2. Real tree or artificial? Real - although one year I tried to convince SH and the boys we could just paint one on the wall

3. When do you put up the tree? 2-3 weeks before Christmas

4. When do you take the tree down? Before January 1, preferrably December 26

5. Do you like eggnog? GROSS

6. Favorite gift received as a child? I don't recall any specific gift, but my grandparents and aunt used to give us an ornament every year on Christmas Eve. I still have all of those.

7. Have a nativity scene? Yes - at my aunt's house. I get to visit it every year until she dies - then I get it back.

8. Hardest person to buy for? My grandmother

9. Easiest person to buy for? FrogBoy - Legos all the way

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I had a boyfriend in high school who gave me a board game called "Intimate Commands" - in front of my parents - as a joke. It wasn't funny.

11. Mail or email Christmas cards? REAL cards - the only way to go - with pictures!

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Scrooged, with Bill Murray. If you can get past the language, it's a great story.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? August

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? No...that takes all the fun out of it

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Used to be Grandmama's stuffing...now it's Aunt Linda's stuffing...someone probably needs to teach Ann how to make it eventually

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Colored

17. Favorite Christmas song? It's a tie between Joy to the World and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Home - everyone's here, so it's great

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? OF COURSE

20. Angel on top of the tree or star? Angel

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Just 2 options? Seriously. We have Christmas with my mother, my family on my dad's side, Adam's mom (all before Christmas) and then at our house Christmas morning.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Vendors accosting me in the mall. I'm a get in, get your gift, get out kind of gal.

23. What I love most about Christmas? Watching my kids open their presents.

24. Best Christmas dessert? Grandmama's boiled custard.
I think that's about all for this little quiz. Sorry there's nothing overly interesting there...but that's what gets it for me at Christmas.

Help Needed

I have somehow managed to screw up my blogger settings - again. I can no longer choose which font I want to use, and whenever I try to bold something, it inserts a little dealio that I can't even copy here, because then I get an HTML error.

So if anyone know what the stink I've done, please help me.

I'm Gonna Pee My Pants

Michael Jackson is on the cover of Ebony magazine this month.

The only thing funnier than that is the conversation I had with Spanky when I saw it. I was telling him that I found it quite humorous - and why - when Spanky said, "He used to be BLACK?!"

Awesome.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I love Thanksgiving. It is by far my most favorite holiday. You get all the great food (usually) with all the great family time, but where we live, you can still wear shorts. That's nice. You don't have to rush around to a million places (at least we don't), and you don't have to schlep anything with you but your kids and whatever dishes you signed up to bring to the meal. Again, very nice.

But the best part of this time of year is that I get to start organizing for the NEXT year. Oh baby! I have to hold myself off from August to November, but once we hit Thanksgiving, all bets are off. At least in August I can appease myself with new school supplies and the joy that comes from (a) smelling and (b) organizing new pencils and packs of notebook paper. But I digress.

The thing that really makes my heart sing is gearing up for a new year. I get to have all new, fresh, unwritten-on file folders. My Quicken program starts on a new year. Two words: NEW DAYTIMER!!! A new year is a thing of beauty.

I know, most people dread filing away the old and starting over with the new. But I crave it. So does my brother. (It may be inherited.) I have finally managed to convince Spanky to let me help him organize his room by telling him that we have to make room for all the Christmas gifts he's going to get. Oh, like you never lied to your kids just to get some simple enjoyment out of cleaning their room?

FrogBoy is pretty well organized. He likes his Legos just so...and before he goes to bed at night, he fills the 8 (yes, 8) boxes back up and stacks them neatly on the storage cubes in the corner of his room. I guess that's a huge blessing of autism...even if he doesn't really like to do it, I only had to tell him a couple of times and now it's a routine...so he's going to do it. It's ingrained in his innermost being. I love that!

If you need me between now and January 1, I will probably be sitting at my desk organizing my papers - with a huge grin on my face (commonly referred to as the Salley grin). Oh happy day!

Purse Ponderings

Let's get something out of the way right up front: this blog is 100% about purses. If you're a guy, you may not be interested...but I bet you'll keep reading anyway.

I've been pining for a leather Fossil purse for quite some time now. Since I can in no way afford a leather Fossil purse, I snuck it onto my Christmas list, thinking there was no way I'd ever get it. There's a puppy on that list too.

Anyway, my aunt and my grandmother decided that if that's what I really want...which of course, it is...they would give me money toward a leather Fossil purse. It is my job to find the purse of my dreams. And while that sounds like a relatively simple task, given my love for purses, in reality it is almost as difficult as deciding what to name my children.

This past weekend I was at the Fossil outlet store in North Charleston. I don't normally like the outlet mall, but remember, I needed Fossil, and I can't afford it without it being from the outlet store. So I dealt with it.

Now I've been drooling over several bags at this particular store for quite some time, but never paying much attention, because I knew I couldn't afford anything. This time was different. This time I was checking every tag. And I found my dream purse. Hallelujah. The angels sang.

Of course, they only had one left in the style and size I want. And it is tan. TAN. What a lovely non-color. Wouldn't you think, if you were going to make the perfect bag, that you would offer it in an array of colors? Like red, mainly? But no. They have TAN.

So I've been mulling over my decision for several days now. Do I go with the perfect bag in NOT RED, or continue looking for a red bag and possibly never find The Perfect Bag again? What to do? Sometimes life just isn't fair.

Thank-Full

After a very strange Thanksgiving, I am finally getting around to updating my blog. Normally I'd be too bloated to blog for at least 2 days after turkey day, but this year, my family tried something a little different...bizarro Thanksgiving.

You know how every year someone manages to screw up the dish they're bringing...so you just do without that particular food item that year? Okay, that was this year...except it happened to EVERYONE. Which meant that my meal consisted of stuffing and corn casserole.

On top of that, SuperHubby was still suffering from severe vertigo, which meant he felt terrible and wasn't going to go to my aunt and uncle's for lunch. Turned out that was okay, because Spanky woke up, ate breakfast, and promptly puked all over the place. So it was just me and FrogBoy as far as Fitzgeralds went this year.

Then my dad, who always adds a little levity to the situation (usually not intentionally), managed to knock over a vase, which shattered into a million pieces. And my grandmother's husband knocked into a shelf, which deposited knick knacks on his head. Oh my.

Still, I managed to come up with a list of things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving. Here, in no particular order, I give you...

1. School holidays. Yes, I know I'm not in school. But I love it when my kids don't have homework and can just enjoy themselves for a couple of extra days.
2. Horse therapy. This has been an amazing thing for FrogBoy the past couple of months. Today I asked if he wanted to go feed the horses at my aunt's house and he said "SURE!" On the 4th of July, they dragged him out there kicking and screaming. And that hasn't been the only change...he has gained incredible confidence and skill in riding. It has truly been a blessing.
3. Caller ID. Remember what I said about my dad?
4. Purses. Daytimers. Boxes and bins and rubbermaid storage totes. No explanation necessary.
5. My aunt's stuffing. Previously known as my grandmother's stuffing, until my aunt took over making it. Even this year, when it was a little runny and I forgot to bring home the gravy for my leftovers. The only thing I don't like about it is that I only get it twice a year.
6. Fantastic hair. We all know I have it, but now it's out there.
7. My job. I was talking to the Smurf (my mother-in-law) last week, telling her that Geoff (boss #1) was back from India, and how glad I was about it. She gave me a quizzical look. I told her I couldn't help it, but I miss my boss when he's away. Then I mentioned that Shawn (boss #2) would be out the entire week of Thanksgiving...and I would miss him too. She told me I had always enjoyed my job way more than she could understand. I started thinking about that and realized that I do love my job, but I also really enjoy the people I get to work with. And that is a really cool thing.
8. Jon Bon Jovi. Oh my. What can I say? JBJ is quite possibly the most gorgeous specimen God ever created. He's extremely talented, has been married to the same woman for a bazillion years, and doesn't do stupid stuff, at least not so the media gets ahold of it. And did I mention he's gorgeous? And he knows he's hot...but in that precious, little boy way, not a cocky way. That makes him even more hot.
9. Gifts. Not presents, gifts. When Geoff came back from India, he brought me a gift. Shawn recently pinky-swore (in front of witnesses) that I would be the first person not involved in his book to read his book. Gifts are from the heart and tell me the person was thinking about me, even if it was extremely brief and fleeting. I'm not big into presents. I love gifts.

Of course, I'm also thankful for my family, mostly because they give me something to blog about...but also because they really are a lot of fun. Thanksgiving is the best holiday - it gives you time to reflect on what's important - like family. And Jon Bon Jovi.

Skinny Jeans

What a giant load of crap. A total misnomer. There is no such thing as skinny jeans.

Their name suggests that skinny jeans make you skinny, or, at the very least, make you look skinny. This is simply not the case. Skinny jeans are the jeans fat girls wish they could wear. The jeans skinny girls already wear. Which they call jeans.

It is just not necessary for these flightly little stick people to call them "skinny" jeans. It's not like I call my jeans "whale" jeans.

Let's not point out the obvious, people.

Sibling Rivalry

So I haven't posted in a while, and I have some really important stuff to say, but I just couldn't let this story pass...

Seems this couple was set to deliver twins...on Sunday. The first baby, a little boy, was born at 1:32 a.m. His sister was born 34 minutes later, but because of Daylight Savings Time, she was born at 1:06 a.m. (I'll wait while some of the slower folks do the math there).

So even though this poor kid managed to sneak out before his sister, and in reality he's 34 minutes older than her, all official records of their birth show her as being older. Isn't that the most bizarro thing ever? I wonder what the odds are.

Just shows you that girls will figure out a way to mess with their older brothers regardless of what it takes.