My Daddy loves me very much. He always makes me laugh.

The title of this post is the first two lines from a song my Father wrote for his kids. The "Hunting Dog" song is one that was written before I was born and continues to be sung at all major family events. One of my brothers even sang it for a school talent show in the late 60s. It has certainly passed the test of time.

And the words themselves still ring true. I think I can honestly say that no one I know has made me laugh as much as my Dad. Seeing as he and my Mom are the people I've known the longest...it may make sense, but somehow I don't think everyone has the blessing of such a comical parent. It's not that he's comedy material, although occasionally "Steve Martin-esk" comes to mind. Many of his laughs are gotten at his expense, but I think he plans it that way. He likes to come off as clueless, but I think he grabs at the possibility of making someone else laugh and works it!

So the latest in his travels had he and my Mother flying to Florida last week. My sister, Kathi, has a place at The Villlllllages: America's Friendliest Hometown! (Sorry, I can't get myself to just name the place without singing the song) Regardless, this has been such a wonderful blessing that my sister has this place and that she gets them to use it. Sometimes this is by brute force, but it must be done.

The day before they left I talked to them and had the typical pre-departure conversation with my Mother who hadn't started packing, felt guilty they were going, already wanted to change the tickets to return home earlier, etc.

I actually remembered that Monday that they were flying down from Pennsylvania despite my pension for forgetting everyone else's plans in the attempt to keep my own life strait. I had taken my girls out shopping and even mentioned at about 2pm, "Nana and BobBob should be in Florida by now!" We all grimaced with jealousy as it was cold and raining in KS!

Shortly after, I'm in Claire's with a set of ears who just got pierced (not mine) and I got a call from my Dad. "We're still in Harrisburg. The plane broke down and they had to get another part." I start to do the math and realize they must have been at the airport for hours by now. My parents are relatively healthy and still kicking pretty hard, but I still hate to see them put out like that. I think the airline gave them $10 to eat...whoo hoo! Big spenders!

Also, I hate to fly so had I been told the airport had to replace a part on my plane...I would've just gone home taking it as a sign. But, they spent the day in the very exciting Harrisburg International Airport. We are not talking O'Hare folks, I think Hburg has a couple newspaper machines and a little kiosk that sells bad coffee and stale donuts. Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but you get the picture.

They sit and read and get lunch and read and get dinner and make a few phone calls. Eventually, they get on the plane about 8 hours later than scheduled.

During this time, my sister who has already been at The Villllllages, for a few days is in the midst of transporting her husband and kids to different locations. I know she had to make at least one airport run to Orlando that day and it's a couple hours from the condo. The original plan was to put her husband on a plane in Orlando and bring her daughter to one of the Disney parks until my parents plane came in.

From what I understand, she was already at Disney when my parents called to tell her they had to wait. There was discussion of getting on an earlier plane and several other possible scenarios of their arrival. Therefore, the phone calls were back and forth...and forth and back.

When my parents finally got on the newly repaired aircraft, they tried to call and let my sister know. She was out of reach. Space Mountain, perhaps? My Father kept trying to call and was getting frustrated. He had quickly befriended the man sitting next to him (surprise). At some point, this gentleman offered to send my sister a text to let her know they were on their way.

"Mary, you should've seen this guy. He was kind of old and it took him forever to type the text!" says my 82 year old father who has never sent a text in his life!

During this discussion of "the text" my father said, "Did you know that you're supposed to turn off your cell phone when the airline takes off and lands? When did that start? I've never heard of such a thing." I told him they always say that and probably he never heard it if the female attendant was cute! I still don't even know if he got that info, from the old man next to him or the schpeal they gave before take off. I'm thinking the guy in seat B.

The flight itself was thankfully uneventful. As they taxi to the gate, Dad was still anxious to actually talk to Kathi. He is busy calling repeatedly and finally gets through. Because the airplane is loud, people are starting to move around, and he can't hear very well, he turns on the speaker.

NOTE: I rarely talk to my parents on the phone (land line or cell) when they do not have the speaker on. My Mother's hearing has been failing (don't get me started on the stupid doctors who can't get her hearing aids right) and they put it on speaker so my Dad can repeat stuff if my Mom misses it.

The speaker is on. He has a full conversation with my sister re: getting her husband on his plane, time in Disney with her daughter, their adventures in trying to get on a flight, the fact that they have landed, the price of tea in China, the workings of the kitchen sink, the beatings of a dead horse, and, no doubt, the reinvention of the wheel. The grace in this is that I know Kathi is not one for chit chat on the phone. Had it been me he was calling, I am sure there would've been additional details regarding children's bowel movements discussed.

As the plane stops at the gate and people start standing up and gathering their carry ons, someone turns around and says "I hope things work out with you meeting your daughter!" Someone else from the other side of the plane nods in agreement. My Dad cluelessly says, "You could hear me talking to my daughter?" Most people in front of him looked back and nodded. So he turns around and looks behind him. He says to the people in the next row with his classic face of innocence, "Could you hear my phone call?" As far as three rows back, there are smiles and nods.

My Mother, who was one row back and didn't hear a thing, is on the other side of the plane wondering why my Father is attracting attention from so many people. (Not that this is unheard of, but still...)

And as they disembark from the plane and walk towards baggage claim, they are met with smiles and well wishers from fellow passengers. "I hope Kathi gets here soon." "Enjoy your vacation!" "Sorry you've had such a rough day." "Tell Kathi we said Hi!"


It's been a week and I still cannot think about this scenario without laughing out loud! I love you DAD!!!

Marty Who?

Here we are again. Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras. The night you need to figure out what you are going to do for Lent. Because, really, who decides weeks out in advance? (If you do, please go back and read my first post which discussed the type of people who shouldn't be reading this blog.)

Is Lent early this year? Does it change? I think it does because Easter can seem late or early and Lent has to be 40 days right? I dunno, it just seems to have snuck up on me once again.

In my ever increasing effort to raise my children in a Catholic home I wanted to discuss Lent. However, because we were eating late and I was more concerned with the logistics of getting the most amount of family members to church tomorrow with the least amount of disruption of school and evening activities, I had forgotten to bring up the subject of Lent itself.

Thankfully, God has placed a Saint-in-Training right in my family. Josie said "Let's go around the table and say what we're gonna do for Lent." Great, even more proof that this child has a Fast Pass to Heaven!

Why we started with Brother, I have no idea. It was certainly not a good choice. I can't remember what I said to start things off. Obviously, nothing explanatory.

Brother's response was "Well, somebody can get me some new sneakers because mine are getting old."

Tali: "It's Lent, not Christmas!"

Lyra: "Don't you know anything?"

Me: "Okay, maybe I didn't explain it well enough. Lent is the time before Easter when we think about how much Jesus suffered before he died. You want to give up something that would be hard so you could remember how hard it was for Jesus to do what he did to save us."

Lyra: "Yeah, like when he was in the desert." (Impressive! Maybe she does stay awake during CCD)

We try to get back to Brother. I ask him, "What do you do a lot that would be hard to give up?"

He tilts his head in deep thought and says "I'll give up wearing jeans!" This comment brings upon a new round of insults from his sisters.

We decide to skip him and go to Tali. "I'm going to give up sweets." Charlie says "Wow, Tali." She shrugs, "Well, I'm gonna try not to eat them." (I give her about 2 days before she decides that anything less than 10 pieces a day is keeping her end of the bargain.)

Brother jumps back in, "I'm gonna give up gum."

"Oh my gosh!" (Said with dripping sarcasm and disdain)

"You don't even chew gum!"

"You don't like gum!"

"Well, than I can give it up for the rest of my life!"

Dad decides to join the conversation: “Giving up something you like to do would be a good idea. How about giving up X-Box?”

I was concerned the girls were gonna get whiplash with such enthusiastic head nodding. (Sadly, the Wii broke shortly after Christmas and I don’t have the money to replace it yet.) Brother is the only one who plays with the second hand Xbox he and Charlie found at a garage sale. He has two games football and something else, but he only plays football and it drives the girls crazy and it’s too hard for Sawyer so he doesn’t play it either. Hmmmm, I wouldn’t mind not hearing the “tweet” of the whistles for awhile.

Brother, overly anxious to please his Dad immediately agreed. The girls all rolled their eyes and I know they were thinking the same thing I was. He will get up and go directly into the playroom and start playing at about 6:15 in the morning. He has earned his place as my lost cause.

Lyra volunteered that she was going to stop biting her nails. I really hope she can. I would love nothing more than for her to have some semblance of fingernails left. Even if it means buying a case of Bacitracin as she will surely put longer nails to good use on her siblings faces, backs, and arms.

Dad says “Okay, I am going to give up bacon, lose some weight and not drink beer.”

Lyra murmurs “That will be suffering!”

“Suffering for us!” I mutter.

(Earlier, he had told Lyra he wasn’t going to drink during Lent. Her eyes were wide
with concern and she said “Not even water?” He said “No, I mean drink alcohol.” She said “Good, cuz I was gonna say I think you can like die if you don’t drink anything, like not even water.”)

Sawyer, who has just begun to sit with us during dinner and has even been known to take a few bites of what we are eating lately, said “Chocolate Milk!”

I said “You need more milk, Sauce?” And he said “No, I will give it up.”

The girls were really impressed for a minute. We all were. Then Lyra or Josie said “What about school? You drink chocolate milk everyday at lunch.”
(One of the lunch ladies told me today that sometimes that’s all he has for lunch)
I’m trying to figure out how to say that he can’t give it up when he did so well picking something. He said “I can give it up at home!” I thought it was brilliant!

Josie said she is going to try really hard not to have to put her name on the board at school. I laughed and said “No, really, what are you gonna do?” She said, “I’m gonna do my homework every night so that I don’t have to write my name on the board.” This is news to me. Apparently, she’s forgotten or not done her homework four times in the last several weeks. Things have been crazy lately and she’s got something every day after school except Friday. I thought that was fair, because she also said she wants to really work hard to do her eye therapy homework every night too. It’s been really hard to fit that in and I need her to take some responsibility with it. Besides, Josie is well on her way to Sainthood so every 40 days is like Lent to her.

So then, they all look at me. Yikes! I told them I was going to do a few things. First, I was going to try to give up soda...

I suddenly worried that the ax man was behind me with the way their jaws dropped, their eyes bulged, and they all seemed to cringe. Then I finished my statement. I will give up soda on days of fasting, so Ash Wednesday and on Fridays.

I thought Josie might burst into tears from sheer relief. But don’t think for a second I missed the smirk on Lyra’s face or Tali’s raised eyebrows. They don’t think I can do it. Sadly, I’m not sure I can, but I’m gonna try really really hard.

I also told them that I was going to work around the house to get things organized. I’d like to do about ½ hour in the basement or somewhere else in the clutter each day. I told them that this would be an offering to Jesus and to Daddy since Daddy has a hard time with messiness!

I figure Jesus would want me to be a good wife right?!?

I just saw an article on 40 bags in 40 days and that was exactly the type of thing I was thinking. I hadn’t put it in those terms, but I thought it spelled it out wonderfully.

So who knows what Lent will bring. Lenten promises seem to work out better than New Year’s Resolutions as there is the Light (pun intended) at the end of the tunnel!

Plus, as I was saying good night to the kids, Josie said, “Mom, I also want to read two pages of my new Bible every night.”

It warmed my heart as I smiled at her and thought to myself, "Whose child is this and where the heck are her parents?"

Thank you Dr. ___, for your expert opinion!

Sawyer has Autism. I am trying to get away from saying "Sawyer is Autistic" because I was reading a book recently that discouraged it. In

Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes you Knew

it says "I am first and foremost a child. I have autism. I am not primarily 'autistic.'" (Ellen Notbohm) I tend to agree.

Not long ago, the word Autistic conjured up images of a child rocking in the corner banging his head against the wall. I watched Rain Man recently and realized that when that movie came out, most people knew next to nothing about Autism. Even the characters in the movie  had little to no knowledge on the subject.  I'm not talking about the actors, just the characters they portrayed.  For example, when Charlie brings Raymond to the doctor, it's as if the nurse has no idea about Special Needs patients. Anyway, saying that Sawyer has Autism, has ASD, or is "on the spectrum" seem to be gentler and more descriptive ways to convey in a matter of fact manner, one aspect of my child.

I realize that Autism seems to be the "diagnosis of the day" and that due to a recent expansion of the latest DSM, more and more children seem to land on the spectrum. So he's got lots of company. It doesn't mean the doctors are over-diagnosing. It also doesn't mean that they aren't. I don't know, I'm not a doctor!!!

When Sawyer was about 14 months old, he was given the diagnosis of Developmental Delay. When he was three, I took him to an outreach clinic at Ft. Leavenworth done by KU Med, where he received the Autism diagnosis.

This of course happened while Charlie was deployed and Josie was having what I have come to call a child size nervous breakdown. (A story for another day) I was actually making an appointment at the clinic for her, when it was suggested I bring Sawyer along. I was completely unprepared for receiving a new diagnosis for Sawyer.

But, as an Army wife, you do what you have to do...Suck it up and move on! (I saw that on a bumper sticker once. It blows that "toughest job in the Army" sticker away don'tcha think?)

Anyway, I was given the diagnosis and after the initial shock, I started trying to process what it all meant and what I'd need to be doing to help my child. (You should know that Sawyer is very high functioning and has made amazing progress since we started our journey four years ago) I had to tell Charlie while on Skype, which was difficult. He asked that I bring Sawyer back to KU Med for further testing and confirmation of the diagnosis. I did and they did.

Ironically enough, it was right at this time that Sawyer was being discharged from the Special Ed preschool program because he was "too advanced." When I went to the school with the diagnosis from the head of Developmental Pediatrics at KU MED, his teacher did not believe it. Not only did she not believe it, she was so adamantly opposed to the diagnosis that she refused to sign any paper saying that Sawyer had ASD. I respected the teacher, but did not agree with her on this issue.

It was beyond confusing to have two major conflicting events happen simultaneously. The Docs at KU had "prescribed" an increase of therapies while the school was telling me "it would be a disservice to Sawyer to have him remain in Special Ed."

I ended up allowing them to discharge him from the program, a decision I'll question from time to time, but what's done is done. He had a miserable time in mainstream Preschool until all the paperwork made it through the Army system and we got an ABA therapist in place. What a world of difference a bit of support makes! The preschool we used was not the right one for him, but I was so overwhelmed at the time (did I mention I have 4 other kids and my husband was deployed) we chose the most convenient school. Again, a decision I'll question, but he survived, we all did, and we all learned from it.

March will bring the two year "anniversary" of Sawyers ASD diagnosis and he has made great strides. I am very matter of fact about the diagnosis itself. That's just who I am. I suffer from depression and am medicated for it. Big deal. It's amazing how many people are on anti-depressants when they feel comfortable sharing. Each person makes their own decision about discussing it or not. Either way is what is right for them. Like I said, I'm just very open about it. I also tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. It's a part of who I am and I don't see any shame in it.

My point is, that I don't have a problem telling people Sawyer has ASD. Maybe that is because he is so high functioning. Sometimes I feel like people need to know because he doesn't look any different from the other kids, but he struggles with things that they don't. Am I a bit protective? Sure. No one wants to see their child be "that weird kid." Do I tell people to explain his behavior? Yes. Do I tell people to EXCUSE unacceptable behavior? NO!

What I can't take, though, is people telling me that I am wrong. For example, we are at a party. There are lots of people, lots of kids, lots of chaos. For a child with ASD this is sensory overload to the max! Whether he knows most of the people there or not, he is sure to cling to me for a bit. Enter, good intentioned fellow party goer, "Oh, Sawyer give your Mom a break, come see me." His grip gets tighter. I smile "It's okay. We're fine." At that point, I do not feel the need to get into a long discussion about Autism. But, if an hour into the party, that person or another, continually questions Sawyer on why he's not hanging out with the kids, why he doesn't leave my side, why he doesn't want anything to eat. I may say, "Sawyer has Autism and big crowds can be uncomfortable for him."

STOP THE WORLD -

Note to anyone who would not be considered an expert in the field of Autism: This is NOT, I repeat NOT the time to say "Oh no he doesn't. I don't see that at all." Really? Because I had no idea you had received a PHD in Pediatric Development since I last saw you.

Here is a list of other things NOT to say:

Those Doctors don't know what they're talking about! (Because you do?)

But he looks so normal! (Ummm, thanks?)

There is no way your child is Autistic! (Trained physicians and I beg to differ)

But he's so high functioning. He's not Autistic, he has Aspergers. (No, I assure you, the diagnosis is Autism)

Please! He's gonna grow out of whatever it is he's doing! (Maybe someday Sawyer will lose his diagnosis. I hear that it could happen. But I promise this is not a childhood phase)

Oh, they say every kid is Autistic these days! (No, not really)

I've read about Autism and Sawyer certainly doesn't have it! (Again, PhD when/where?)

He's fine! (Yes, he is fine. He just also happens to have ASD)

I'm not dumb. I know that 99.9% of people who say things off the above list are trying to be nice. Maybe they feel like by disagreeing with the diagnosis I will feel better about my son. Guess what? I feel great about my son! He's a wonderful kid. He's going to be a great athlete and he's incredibly smart.

I hope it goes without saying that the snarky comments above remain in my brain and do not generally travel out through my mouth. I used to open a discussion and try to explain Sawyer and why he has the diagnosis he does, but it got me nowhere but frustrated. Now I simply smile, raise my eyebrows, and try to smooth my face into a pleasant, content listener. Meanwhile, I have "checked out"(Sawyer has taught me some tricks) and am planning tonights dinner.

There are better responses though.

Things that don't make me bristle:

Really? I would've never guessed. (Thanks, he's been making lots of progress)

Wow, I didn't realize. (Good, that what he works so hard for)

When was he diagnosed? How did you know? (I love questions! I am happy to answer any and all that you have)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that so many times we say things without thinking about how they sound. I'm guilty of it too I'm sure. But I try to make a practice of not disagreeing with the diagnosis of a medical expert.

Just sayin'!