Free Birth Control? I'll give you Free Birth Control.

If you don't have children yet or don't have children of talking age yet, here is a sneak peak of what you are in for!  The following is a conversation between my two boys yesterday as I was trying to sit down to write my poor husband an email.  I ended up just typing as they spoke so my husband (who is unaccompanied for the year) could see what I am forced to deal with on a daily basis.  I was looking for sympathy.  Sadly, it made him miss them more...

What follows is the actual email I sent to Charlie.

I just sat down to write to you and the boys came in and now I can't think!

Do you miss them? This is what's happening:

C: You play baseball like a girl!

S: You play baseball like a lady!  (Laaaaadddddyyyyy is long and drawn out and said in a very prissy tone)

C: You play baseball like a baby, BABY! (The second use of the word "baby" rolls off his tongue with such revulsion and disdain, even I shiver.)

S: Charlie, you are a BEEP! (Really, he said the word beep!)

C: Moooommmmm, he called me a beep!

M: Um, yeah, not really much I can do.

S: You play baseball like Yoda!

C: Thank you, Yoda plays baseball very well.

M: He has the Force!  (I laugh. No one else does.  Thank goodness I can appreciate how funny I am!)

S: He just attacked me. (There has been little to no movement in my peripheral vision)

C: No I didn't!

S: Excuse me, he is a liar!

C: You don't know how to spell liar.

S: YOU don't know how to liar.

C: L-I-A-R

S: Mom is that right?

M: Yes

S: Snort/Growl noise emits from his direction.

C: Hahahahaha

S: Well, you don't know how to spell "I."

C: There's two.  I and E-Y-E.

S: There another I. It's called, I called you a baby baby baby baby...

Should I go on?

Miss you!!!

Love you more~

M

Reading this 26 times in a row at 3am might just cause you to rethink that plan of having several children close together. If this has no effect, dump a pile of Lego's on the floor and then walk over them while rereading.  In fact, if you would rather, I'd be happy to record the kids having the same or a very similar conversation and you could download it. 

The most effective way to use this data is to blast it full volume while you try to do your taxes or while reading Shades of Gray.  It will certainly help you concentrate while trying to replug all wires correctly back into the computer after your system has crashed.  Ask two friends to mimic the conversation and simultaneously throw golf balls at you while you try to contort your body to fit behind and under your work station.

Another idea is to play it on your iPod while taking a nap. I would start with a very low volume and as you learn to sleep through it, increase it a bit each time.  A seasoned mother sleeps right through that crap and will even be able to supplement with an occasional "knock it off" without missing a second of REM.

Want to have a bit of fun?  Take the recording into the bathroom with you while you are having morning sickness.  Turned up loud enough, the echo from the fight will overpower the echo of your retching.  Have Friend 1 call your cell while Friend 2 is standing just outside the door (preferably banging and whining loud enough to be heard over the recording).  Hopefully they have the sense to change your ring tone to Black Sabbath or some other dreadfully Heavy Metal band.  Let the phone ring continuously at length and when finally answered.  Have Friend 2 yell into the phone and through the bathroom door: "My Mom is doing spit 'em ups right now.  Do you want to talk to her?"  Have Friend 2 hold the phone so the background fight is coming clearly through the phone.  Have Friend 2 tell you that it really isn't Friend 1, it's actually your Mother-In-Law, the older kids Principal, the President of the Junior League or any other figure that will make the insides of your stomach rush to the back of your throat.

Perhaps then, you may begin to feel just a touch of the pain you will be subjecting yourself to for the next 18+ years.

That is all.

++Dedicated to my sweet niece who is due with twin boys in August. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha++

It's Raining, It's Pouring

We made it to mass on time last Saturday.  Really. It was amazing.  I got to give B Cha a kiss on the head before he carried one of the large candles down the aisle and I got to hear Tali and the choir sing the opening song.  A rare event indeed. 

I would like to blame our recurring lateness on Sawyer dragging his feet, but it's pretty much my chronic tardiness that causes it.  Perhaps because I don't allow enough time to get a begrudging Sawyer ready.

But Saturday, this past Saturday, we were golden.  Sawyer's therapist, who comes with us to mass most weeks, had bought him a new activity book to work on.  He was sitting in the pew so content, so quiet, that I really thought it was going to be a good night.

Shortly after the opening prayer, the priest announced that he would be doing something different than the Penitential Act which is usually one of the first prayers.  "I confess to Almighty God..."

Although my father had no idea when I was relaying this story to him, Wikipedia actually knew what I was talking about:

"On Sundays, especially in the Season of Easter, in place of the customary Penitential Act, from time to time the Blessing and Sprinkling of Water to recall Baptism may take place."^[4]

This may have had something to do with the fact that I was telling him the Priest was going to do a different "penitentiary act" which would perhaps make sense since we live at Ft. Leavenworth.

Regardless, what the Priest was going to do was sprinkle the congregation with Holy Water.  This may not seem like it is worth mentioning, no big deal, except it is a big deal when you have a child with Autism.  A VERY big deal!  The last time the Holy Water was brought out was around Christmas perhaps...honestly I don't remember, but I remember the panic that rose in my chest when the Priest (who is new) and the Deacon (who knows us well) reached the end of the main aisle and turned to walk around the back and up the side aisles. 

+++Authors Note: We sit on the left side of the aisle (which in itself is still odd to me because growing up my family always, ALWAYS sat on the right and it wasn't until a particularly difficult Mass which left me in tears during Charlie's first deployment from here about 5 years ago, that I abandoned my long standing rule and moved left to sit behind my good friend for support.) Now we sit on the far left side of the left side of the church, near the back.   This makes for easy escapes with Sawyer and minimal distractions to anyone behind us as there is certainly plenty of room in front of us if they would rather not watch my children spiral into a fist fight during the Kiss of Peace.+++

Back to the story at hand: The last Holy Water event, had Deacon on our side of the church.  So when he rounded the back corner and started up the side aisle, all I had to do was look at him with fear in my eyes and give a slight shake of my head.  He immediately "got it" and adjusted his flick of the
aspergillum (yes, I looked it up) so that Sawyer did not get wet at all.  I realize this is not the intended result of the ceremony, but believe me when I say, it was best for everyone involved.

Our current Priest has only been her a few months and while he knows that Sawyer has Autism, I'm not sure he knows Sawyer well enough to be able to anticipate his reactions.  So when he was the only one sprinkling the water I foolishly assumed that he certainly wouldn't take the time to go ALL THE WAY around the church.  (We only have an hour)  I was mistaken.  As he turned the back corner and started our way, I knew that bulging my eyes out would not convey to him the message, "Please, I beg of you, don't get Sawyer wet, it could take the rest of mass to recover from that.  Plus, he's got a brand new book and if you get that wet he is liable to throw it at you, or me, and never touch it again and I know his therapist just spent a significant amount of money on it."  Unfortunately, the universal sign of STOP, a swift swipe of my hand across my throat did not seem appropriate for the environment.

The water flew in slow motion.  I swear I could see the droplets in the air as the headed for and landed on Sawyer, his head, his neck, his brand new book open to a crisp white page which now smudged the circle he just made.  My heart stopped.  I braced myself for the scream...which didn't come.  (Thank you God, You are so good to me.)

But the Priest had not moved on, he was smiling at the back of Sawyer's head, he could not see the look I was getting with eyes full of Satan himself.  I saw his hand go back into the aspersorium (I looked that one up too) and he showered us a second time!  A SECOND TIME!  Father had a big smile on his face obviously oblivious to the possible outcomes of such a scenario.  This apparently struck the people behind us, who were visiting, as funny too.  "Well, he's reading a book.  Father is just trying to make him pay attention."

Deep breath.  And again.  Sawyer was annoyed.  A bit angry even. (Completely understandable in my opinion) But thankfully, not furious. We had dodged a pretty large bullet...actually, many many tiny ones, but we were good.  Everyone survived, Sawyer's book was still usable in his eyes, and all was relatively well with the world.

I spent the next 10 minutes of mass trying to deal with my conflicting feelings of how do you celebrate Mass and be a good person when you are angry with the Priest saying Mass?  I could get over the initial sprinkling, but I felt that the second round was mearly for his amusement which is really not fair. 

The discussion I was having with God in my head was so intense at one point that it took me a moment to realize that while Tali and the choir were singing the responsorial psalm, the sound system went haywire and there was a horrible screeching noise coming through the speakers.  Mother of the year did not even think immediately of Sawyer's ears.  I was thinking more about how loud it was for Tali on the alter and how quickly it was giving me a headache.  As the Priest bend down and unplugged something that stopped the unbelievable noise, I suddenly thought of Sawyer.  He had his head down, was covering his ears, and his face was contorted to a level of pain rarely seen on someone who isn't bleeding profusely.

Thankfully, his therapist snatched him up and got him out of there.  I listened for the screams, but heard none.  Apparently, the whole chain of events was such that he could muster was whimpering and shaking.  He spent the rest of the Mass in the narthex (That one I knew on my own!). 

I have to trust that God knows that I do my best to get him there, and to keep him there.  And some days are just better than others.

End note:  It was later in the Mass that I had looked into the narthex and saw that Sawyer was calmed down for the most part.  I walked back to the pew to see B Cha lifting the large book off the alter for the Priest to read from.  As he stood, holding the book in front of him, the Priest looked a bit confused.  It was then that the Deacon walked over and turned the book rightside up. 

And there was God's answer:  We all make mistakes! 

Throw Back Thursday

So, here's the conversation:

Me:  Sawyer, did you throw your milk at the lunch lady today? (It had been written in his journal)

Sawyer: NOOOOO!!!!! (Very emphatically)

Me:  Hmmmmmm.

Sawyer:  I DIDN'T!

Me: Okay, did your milk happen to slip out of your hand today?

S: Yes (begrudgingly)

Me:  did it slip in the direction of the lunch lady?

S: Yes (begrudgingly)

M: (quick silent prayer) Was it open? (Please say no, please say no, please say no...)

S: Noooooooooo (he may as well have added "duh!")

M: (Oh thank you God!).  Can you tell me why the milk slipped out of your hand in her direction?

S:  I am SO tired of strawberry yogurt!

M: (of course, that makes perfect sense....NOT) Sawyer, I don't understand.

S: I wanted vanilla!

M: Sawyer, you can't throw your milk at the lunch lady because she is out of vanilla! What happened next?

S:  I don't remember.

M:  Well, you either went to Miss Bs room, the principals office or ate in the cafeteria.

S: Just stop asking me questions now.

M: I'll stop if you don't throw milk at the lunch lady again

S:  mmmmmmmmmm

M: Okay Mom.

S:  MMMMMMMMMMMMMM

M: Okay Mom.

S: OKAY MOM!!!!! (so completely not meaning it)