Under the Weather

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun in Won by One

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

Friday Foto

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

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

Thong Injury

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

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

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

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

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

Only in California.

My Friend's B-Day

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

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

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

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

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

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

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

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

4:00 can't get here fast enough.

The Cupcake vs. the Cookie Cake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God for FrogBoy.

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

Blessed...and Stressed

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can anyone say "bicycle"?

A Couple of Recent Photos

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

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

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

Conversations with Frogs

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

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

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

AWESOMENESS

Whatever Happened to SuperHeroes??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagged!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Star of the Week

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

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

I hope I get an A.

It's a Good Thing!

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

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

Yep. Good thing.

Awesome Job

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

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

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

He waves at the cars.

Every single car.

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

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

Rock on, Dudley.

No News is Good News

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

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

YAY GOD!!!!

What a Difference a Day Makes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was. It did. It is.

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

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

The Secret Language of Frogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

* Short pants. Not high-waters, shorts.

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

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

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

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

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

Eye Contact is Overrated

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you guess which one we're praying for?

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

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

And that makes me very sad.