He did it!
He made it through the Sex Ed Video without giggling up a storm!
Everything was intact, if you will. There was no change of clothes needed...although I packed two complete sets of clothes in his backpack that morning. And extra pull-ups. For the child who sometimes needs to take a pee break in the middle of a 15-minute Three Stooges show...god love him...because he's laughing so hard....
According to my source on the inside, Mr G, there were some giggles from all the boys. Because they're fifth grade boys, right? Jesus! Of course they're gonna giggle!
I mean, seriously, I get it, because talking about penises and vaginas takes us out of our comfort zones, especially if, as I'm sure it was for some of the attendees, it's the very first time they'd really ever discussed anything about sexuality. And this video included the intimacies of puberty, and Sweet Jesus, girls actually bleed regularly? And they don't die from it? They'd say Sweet Jesus if their vocabularies included such a thing.
After the 26-minute long Sex Ed Video, there was a discussion and an opportunity for the students to ask questions. The discussion was led by a man who is a highly-respected and retired pediatrician. It was more like they were talking with their elderly grandfathers about puberty. There were also several male teachers in the room. So there was a lot of testosterone floating around. If you will.
The only word I heard about how the girls did was that there was some giggling, and then the female teachers and/or the Bad Ass Pediatric Nurse Practitioner tactfully put the kaibosh on it.
But the boys were, apparently, the best behaved group of boys ever because Dr. T. told them so! I know, right? I mean, seriously?! What the fuck? Because the terms "fifth grade boys...best behaved" don't usually go together. But, ok! I'll take it....even though I'm a little skeptical.
It's all good.
There was a question from the good doctor to the group of boys about "anyone have any questions" and Mr. G told me that he asked my son if he had any questions, and my son said yes (good sign). Then Mr. G said that he asked my son something like "What do you have a question about?" or "what do you want to know more about?" And Nathan said "everything!"
Of course.
So, when we got home, we talked about the Sex Ed Video. I asked him what he wanted to know more about...he said everything. Ok...consistency is good....
"Should we all watch the video?" I asked my son.
"Yes! And Daddy and Isaac too!" came his enthusiastic reply.
Because in my house, this video is totally third-grade approved. It may not be in your house, and that's totally cool. But at some point they'll probably see it. And some point soon we'll watch the Sex Ed Video as a family.
And, yes, this stuff makes me a little uneasy because it's my own kids...and it's something we all go through....
But, again, if we don't talk about Human Sexuality with our own children, we're still teaching them about sex and sexuality....we're just teaching them to not talk about it.
And even though my third grader will see the Sex Ed Video soon, I will absolutely discourage him from getting up in front of the class and attempting to teach this lesson when he's in fifth grade.
Just so we're clear.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Is it just me...?
Is it just me...?
Because they still fight for my attention.
Like they're a pair of toddlers.
Is it all moms?
Or is it just moms?
Because they don't compete for their dad's attention quite like they do for mine.
Mom.
Mom.
Mom.
When I'm talking to one, the other one in the background.
Or sometimes just not even Mom.
Sometimes just start talking and won't stop as if I can divide my brain in two and pay attention to both of them with the same level of intensity. Stop. Please.
Is it just me?
Because I know there's an intensity to me.
To them.
To us.
But is this normal?
Or, "within the range of normal"?
Maybe it's all kids?
And all moms?
Or is it just boys?
Or perhaps opposite gendered parent?
I'm trying to get a feel.
Because...dude...I cannot even with them right now this spring break has been bullshit because he's had jury duty for the past two weeks and it's great that he enjoys doing his civic duty but seriously we didn't even get to make a quick trip down to the cool sex toy store. Dammit!
Maybe it's just me.
Jesus. What in the godddam do people with more than two children do?
The children.
Not their sex lives.
They're very busy.
Obviously.
Because they still fight for my attention.
Like they're a pair of toddlers.
Is it all moms?
Or is it just moms?
Because they don't compete for their dad's attention quite like they do for mine.
Mom.
Mom.
Mom.
When I'm talking to one, the other one in the background.
Or sometimes just not even Mom.
Sometimes just start talking and won't stop as if I can divide my brain in two and pay attention to both of them with the same level of intensity. Stop. Please.
Is it just me?
Because I know there's an intensity to me.
To them.
To us.
But is this normal?
Or, "within the range of normal"?
Maybe it's all kids?
And all moms?
Or is it just boys?
Or perhaps opposite gendered parent?
I'm trying to get a feel.
Because...dude...I cannot even with them right now this spring break has been bullshit because he's had jury duty for the past two weeks and it's great that he enjoys doing his civic duty but seriously we didn't even get to make a quick trip down to the cool sex toy store. Dammit!
Maybe it's just me.
Jesus. What in the godddam do people with more than two children do?
The children.
Not their sex lives.
They're very busy.
Obviously.
Monday, March 26, 2018
Sex Ed Video
So, it's time.
He's in the fifth grade.
And that's when we, culturally, start formal Sexuality Education.
Even though we really do need to start Sexuality Education much, much earlier here in our country.
I'm not going to get too into the media images, or the fact that kids go through the grocery store and see the SI Swimsuit edition. Or any number of magazines, targeting folks on the gender spectrum to conform to what is considered "normal"...which we all know is really just a setting on the washing machine.
But we do start our Sex Ed pretty early in this country.
Earlier than you'd think.
Did you tell your child their gender? Or maybe told them what sex the were? Male? Female? Boy? Girl? That's Sexuality Education.
Did you tell your son he has a penis like his dad? Or your daughter she has a vagina like her mom? Sexuality Education.
Tell your toddler or older child to avoid gawking at women who are breastfeeding their infant? Sexuality Education. And an awesome opportunity to teach manners in that it's impolite to stare. Because women in Washington State do have a right to openly breast feed in public. So, whip that boob out and feed that baby, ladies! (Please check your own state laws before breastfeeding in public.)
Did ya teach your kid they are in charge of their bodies and to know the scientific names of their body parts (vagina, clitoris, penis, scrotum)? Sexuality Education. By the way, research shows that when kids know the scientific names of their body parts, they are more empowered, have higher self-esteem, and less likely to become victims of sexual abuse. And nobody wants their kid to be sexually abused.
So empower your kids! And why not just call a spade a spade? I mean, you call an arm an arm; and you call a kidney a kidney...so why not call a penis a penis? Why call a penis a "private"? Is it in the Army or something? Or "dick"? I suppose if you're going to act like one...yeah...but seriously? Can we stop with the "wee-wees" and the "wankers" and the "who-whos" and the "ya-yas"?! Seriously. It's oppressive.
And why in the goddam are all the nicknames for penises such cutesy bullshit and the nicknames for women's vaginas are totally fuckin' crude? For example, Joystick, Mr. Happy, One Eyed Trouser Snake.
Fucking Christ. That's me making an exclamation, and not what we call Randy's Candy. Just to clarify.
Conversely, vaginas are also known as the Bearded Clam, Cock Holster, and, everyone's favorite, Cunt. Goddamnit. See what I'm saying? I mean, Camel Toe is more offensive to me than cunt. The word cunt doesn't offend me. But people who behave like cunts offend me.
Please. Can we just stop with the shenanigans of calling our genitals what they are not? I don't even like the word genitals. Seriously. It's as if our genitals are gentle...and with all due respect, my pussy has taken a pounding and it's squeezed out two babies, but not at the same time...so my pussy is not gentle...and doesn't need to be confused with a gentile...or a genital. It's a vagina. Keep it simple.
And, this would probably be a good time to tell you that when my son who is 8-11/12 was about 3, and out at the preschool at the east end of the county, he'd sit in the back seat, 5-point-harnessed in, and see how many times he could say vagina before we got to school. Seriously. It was his favorite word, clearly his father's son. He said it hundreds of times in the 20 minutes it took us to get to school. And, let's be honest, vagina is a LOT more fun to say than penis. Right? Vagina!
Anyway....
Back to Sexuality Education...
If, by chance, you didn't discuss the above mentioned topics, you're still totally conducting Sexuality Education in the way that seems right for you. You're just using the "don't talk about it because they're never going to have sex anyway" approach, also known as Denial.
But that approach doesn't work for me. Because, guess what? I expect that at some point in each of their lives, my children will become sexually active. So, if I just bury my head in the sand and not deal with this, then my kids are not going to have my values and my information, which I know is reliable because being a Health Educator is what I've done for over 20 years...and, as a parent, it's important to me and my husband that our own children know what the heck is going on in their own body as they start to go through puberty.
Also they need to have an idea that women go through puberty and that really, women have highly specialized reproductive needs compared to men. Right? We need pads and tampons. If we're lucky. According to the United Nations, women in developing nations don't have the luxury of pads and tampons...and are even dropping out of school because of their periods.
Lemme say that again: women around the world are dropping out of school because they menstruate. Stigma: menstrual blood is seen as "unclean" but really, a woman's value is all in how tight her pussy is, so that she can snatch (if you will) a higher bride price. And if her family sends her to school once she starts menstruating and she ends up getting raped, which would ultimately be her fault anyway, because everyone knows we blame the victim when she's raped, she won't be worth as much money and will ultimately bring shame to her family. So, just stay home and bleed.
Oh for fuck's sake. Tell her like it really is: she's in charge of her vagina. And she's in charge of her vulva. Don't be cutting that up with a piece of glass! Motherfuckers.
Perhaps not shockingly, stigma is also alive here in the States. Did you know we have a Tampon Tax? No shit. Click the link. Read the article. Watch the YouTube video. The model is stunning. You're welcome.
And, let's be honest: she's in charge of the penises, too. The hetero penises; just to clarify and to be inclusive. The sooner the penises realize that the vaginas are running the show, the happier we'll all be. Vagina! (Say it loud and say it proud!)
Ok. I'm done. I'm stepping down off my soapbox and returning you to your regularly scheduled blog post: Sex Ed Video, which, conveniently, will be shown to the fifth graders at school tomorrow. I'm concerned how this will go. Because my son, who is chronologically 11-1/2, but intellectually about 5, is going to be included when his male Gen Ed classmates go down the hall to watch the Sex Ed Video. And let's face it, they're all gonna giggle. Hopefully the giggling remains...intact...if you will. My concern lies not only in how he's going to react, because I saw all the triggers...all the giggle causers...and I know it's his response to being uncomfortable...but I also am working on recognizing that, like his pediatric neurologist said a couple of weeks ago...my son's delays and resulting behaviors are not a fault of mine...I do not have his permission to own my son's lack...of...development...he's his own person.
I watched the video because YouTube has it. And because the teacher sent the link. And the principal sent a letter. I liked it. The video. I mean the letter was lovely, too. But the video was well done. The actors were all kids, they used matter-of-fact tones, and product placement was very strategic...Procter and Gamble...you slippery vixen!
And it was paid for by the Tampon Tax. Just kidding. But it's kinda funny because it's made by Always Feminine Products, you guys.
Anyway, here you go...The Sex Ed Video the kids are watching.
And thanks for reading.
<3 xoxo
He's in the fifth grade.
And that's when we, culturally, start formal Sexuality Education.
Even though we really do need to start Sexuality Education much, much earlier here in our country.
I'm not going to get too into the media images, or the fact that kids go through the grocery store and see the SI Swimsuit edition. Or any number of magazines, targeting folks on the gender spectrum to conform to what is considered "normal"...which we all know is really just a setting on the washing machine.
But we do start our Sex Ed pretty early in this country.
Earlier than you'd think.
Did you tell your child their gender? Or maybe told them what sex the were? Male? Female? Boy? Girl? That's Sexuality Education.
Did you tell your son he has a penis like his dad? Or your daughter she has a vagina like her mom? Sexuality Education.
Tell your toddler or older child to avoid gawking at women who are breastfeeding their infant? Sexuality Education. And an awesome opportunity to teach manners in that it's impolite to stare. Because women in Washington State do have a right to openly breast feed in public. So, whip that boob out and feed that baby, ladies! (Please check your own state laws before breastfeeding in public.)
Did ya teach your kid they are in charge of their bodies and to know the scientific names of their body parts (vagina, clitoris, penis, scrotum)? Sexuality Education. By the way, research shows that when kids know the scientific names of their body parts, they are more empowered, have higher self-esteem, and less likely to become victims of sexual abuse. And nobody wants their kid to be sexually abused.
So empower your kids! And why not just call a spade a spade? I mean, you call an arm an arm; and you call a kidney a kidney...so why not call a penis a penis? Why call a penis a "private"? Is it in the Army or something? Or "dick"? I suppose if you're going to act like one...yeah...but seriously? Can we stop with the "wee-wees" and the "wankers" and the "who-whos" and the "ya-yas"?! Seriously. It's oppressive.
And why in the goddam are all the nicknames for penises such cutesy bullshit and the nicknames for women's vaginas are totally fuckin' crude? For example, Joystick, Mr. Happy, One Eyed Trouser Snake.
Fucking Christ. That's me making an exclamation, and not what we call Randy's Candy. Just to clarify.
Conversely, vaginas are also known as the Bearded Clam, Cock Holster, and, everyone's favorite, Cunt. Goddamnit. See what I'm saying? I mean, Camel Toe is more offensive to me than cunt. The word cunt doesn't offend me. But people who behave like cunts offend me.
Please. Can we just stop with the shenanigans of calling our genitals what they are not? I don't even like the word genitals. Seriously. It's as if our genitals are gentle...and with all due respect, my pussy has taken a pounding and it's squeezed out two babies, but not at the same time...so my pussy is not gentle...and doesn't need to be confused with a gentile...or a genital. It's a vagina. Keep it simple.
And, this would probably be a good time to tell you that when my son who is 8-11/12 was about 3, and out at the preschool at the east end of the county, he'd sit in the back seat, 5-point-harnessed in, and see how many times he could say vagina before we got to school. Seriously. It was his favorite word, clearly his father's son. He said it hundreds of times in the 20 minutes it took us to get to school. And, let's be honest, vagina is a LOT more fun to say than penis. Right? Vagina!
Anyway....
Back to Sexuality Education...
If, by chance, you didn't discuss the above mentioned topics, you're still totally conducting Sexuality Education in the way that seems right for you. You're just using the "don't talk about it because they're never going to have sex anyway" approach, also known as Denial.
But that approach doesn't work for me. Because, guess what? I expect that at some point in each of their lives, my children will become sexually active. So, if I just bury my head in the sand and not deal with this, then my kids are not going to have my values and my information, which I know is reliable because being a Health Educator is what I've done for over 20 years...and, as a parent, it's important to me and my husband that our own children know what the heck is going on in their own body as they start to go through puberty.
Also they need to have an idea that women go through puberty and that really, women have highly specialized reproductive needs compared to men. Right? We need pads and tampons. If we're lucky. According to the United Nations, women in developing nations don't have the luxury of pads and tampons...and are even dropping out of school because of their periods.
Lemme say that again: women around the world are dropping out of school because they menstruate. Stigma: menstrual blood is seen as "unclean" but really, a woman's value is all in how tight her pussy is, so that she can snatch (if you will) a higher bride price. And if her family sends her to school once she starts menstruating and she ends up getting raped, which would ultimately be her fault anyway, because everyone knows we blame the victim when she's raped, she won't be worth as much money and will ultimately bring shame to her family. So, just stay home and bleed.
Oh for fuck's sake. Tell her like it really is: she's in charge of her vagina. And she's in charge of her vulva. Don't be cutting that up with a piece of glass! Motherfuckers.
Perhaps not shockingly, stigma is also alive here in the States. Did you know we have a Tampon Tax? No shit. Click the link. Read the article. Watch the YouTube video. The model is stunning. You're welcome.
And, let's be honest: she's in charge of the penises, too. The hetero penises; just to clarify and to be inclusive. The sooner the penises realize that the vaginas are running the show, the happier we'll all be. Vagina! (Say it loud and say it proud!)
Ok. I'm done. I'm stepping down off my soapbox and returning you to your regularly scheduled blog post: Sex Ed Video, which, conveniently, will be shown to the fifth graders at school tomorrow. I'm concerned how this will go. Because my son, who is chronologically 11-1/2, but intellectually about 5, is going to be included when his male Gen Ed classmates go down the hall to watch the Sex Ed Video. And let's face it, they're all gonna giggle. Hopefully the giggling remains...intact...if you will. My concern lies not only in how he's going to react, because I saw all the triggers...all the giggle causers...and I know it's his response to being uncomfortable...but I also am working on recognizing that, like his pediatric neurologist said a couple of weeks ago...my son's delays and resulting behaviors are not a fault of mine...I do not have his permission to own my son's lack...of...development...he's his own person.
I watched the video because YouTube has it. And because the teacher sent the link. And the principal sent a letter. I liked it. The video. I mean the letter was lovely, too. But the video was well done. The actors were all kids, they used matter-of-fact tones, and product placement was very strategic...Procter and Gamble...you slippery vixen!
And it was paid for by the Tampon Tax. Just kidding. But it's kinda funny because it's made by Always Feminine Products, you guys.
Anyway, here you go...The Sex Ed Video the kids are watching.
And thanks for reading.
<3 xoxo
Friday, March 16, 2018
Spontaneous Weekend Getaway
So, the Biggest Birthday Bash at the Anderson Abode wound down and came to a close, and a little while later, a friend texted me saying her daughter forgot her bag of
stuffed animals. You know, like you do when you're four...carry a bag full of stuffed animals. I mean, she's not one
whole hand yet, so if she needs to bring a bag of stuffies with her when
she travels from one end of the county to the other end of the county, it's cool.
But is that what you do with little girls? I mean I know it's different to parent a girl. But I don't get it because I have boys and they just verbally abuse each other while we're driving down the highway, roof open, windows down, rain pelting our faces, while Garbage or Joan Jett, Concrete Blonde or really early Melissa Etheridge or some other Angry Lesbian Music turned up to 11 blast from the speakers in the Highlander with me singing at the top of my lungs to provide my own white noise and drown out the screams from the backseat. Ya know...it's the Anderson Family Circus up to it's usual shenanigans. But, it's been worse, the boys used to physically abuse each other while I was driving...at least that's no longer happening. Always see the light. Do not Hapkido your brother. Ous!
Anyway, we didn't realize the bag had been left behind until all of our party guests had vacated. It wasn't a gift bag. It was a lumpy grey bag with pastel colored elephants, and a white ribbon drawstring closure. Oh my.
When I saw it sitting near all of our shoes and boots near the front door, my 8-11/12 year old son yelled, in what seemed like slow motion, that the child had left her stuffies. I knew this had the potential to go south really fast because:
a. She is four and had some challenges in leaving the party (I've been there and completely understand, so I'm not judging).
b. My 11-1/2 year old is developmentally five and I need to find a good hiding spot for whatever stuffed animals are in the bag because my child could loose it for any number of reasons including but not limited to being sad for her because she won't have her animals tonight, or when we have to return them it could get ugly.
c. Fuck I hope none of the stuffies are cats because cats are his autism thing. Please Jesus, no cats.
d. They live on the other side of the county. We've gotta coordinate a drop off. Dad's are both employed by PC; maybe they can coordinate. (Hahahahahahah!!!!! Right?! Translation: the moms will coordinate the dads. Obviously.)
Like any parent facing a potential stuffie emergency, I immediately grabbed my phone and saw that my friend texted me about 90 minutes prior, notifying me of the drama. I replied that we would happily keep the animals secure for two nights. Understandably, the little girl was very sad, but was somehow convinced that the animals would have a fun vacay at the Anderson Abode.
And, breathe....
Not that she wouldn't have lived, but you know...it's a bummer for any kid to not have their favorite...seven...stuffed animals on hand at any given moment. I get it. My kids are stuffed animal whores. The collection they each have is enormously ridiculous.
So, anyway, we took care of the Magnificent Seven: Sally, Sarah, Catty, Pickles, Sprinkles, Lettuce, and Ballet Dog for a Spontaneous Weekend Getaway...
Heh...and you guys thought I was gonna say that Randy and I were going away for a weekend, didn't you? Hahaha! That's a fantastic idea! But do you realize how much planning it takes to coordinate a weekend trip for the parents of a special needs child?
Anyway, the Spontaneous Weekend Getaway was delightful! The Magnificent Seven were wonderful house guests! The boys and I had fun picking out which had been named what and our conclusions are:
Ballet Dog is the only dog and has little pink feet like a ballet dancer (ok it's a gimme)
Lettuce is a bunny (that's fuckin' brilliant!)
Sprinkles is the little pink cat with multi colored dots and they look like sprinkles (how am I doin?)
Pickles may be the rainbow caterpillar because he's the same shape as a pickle...?
Catty is the bigger tan cat...?
I'm lost on Sally and Sarah but they're cats.
Three cats.
Are you fuckin' kidding me? Goddamn four-year-old left three goddamn cats at my house after the Biggest Birthday Bash EVER? Fuck. Because my son's special needs head is going to fucking explode when he finds out. Jesusfuckinchrist. I mean, seriously? I've got to hide these, stat!
Because cats are my autistic kid's thing. Typically, people on the spectrum have a "thing"...and it can change over time. But their thing is something they deeply care for...or are fixated on...and his thing is cats. It has been for years. Wants to own a cat, but Dad is allergic. Bummer. But even so, we all know it would end up being my job to clean the goddamned litter box and I am not a litter box cleaner, so, no. His "thing" for a long time was Angry Birds (all versions, no, really)...and so we took that and ran with it...my family language is Levels.
My bigger concern was that my son on the spectrum was going to struggle with letting the stuffed animals, particularly the cats, go back to their owner, but he actually did really well...because all the stuffies need to stay together! We need to respect our young friend and her belongings. Let's be responsible and keep all of her stuffed animals together in their bag. Yes, fantastic idea, Nathan! It's their sleeping bag! You are so clever, son....
I texted my friend a few pics of the unplanned but very well-behaved house guests so that her young daughter would feel comfortable knowing her crew were being well-cared for. I mean they were here for two nights, so it's kinda a big deal when you're only four. And because we don't leave the house on Sundays. It's our stay-home-family-I-kicked-their-asses-in-Wii-Bowling-AGAIN-day. Oh! And this past Sunday was my husband's official 50th birthday. So, there was that....
We kept our house guests busy with lots of fun activities, including...well...here is their photo journal. Because I didn't want to inundate the little girl's Mom's phone, or potentially annoy the shit out of her and forever damaging our friendship. Right? But, there's some stuff that simply needs to be shared in a photo journal.
I present: Spontaneous Weekend Getaway....
As you can see, we kept the Magnificent Seven quite busy at their Spontaneous Weekend Getaway! I think their favorite was the rock wall, which was really quite an adventure! It was actually quite fun for us that she accidentally forgot her bag of stuffies: it gave us a creative outlet...and a different way to teach and learn helping someone else, being kind, responsible, and respectful, and trying to turn a negative into a positive. We also enhanced our Team Anderson skills...which needed a little help, given we were all fried from the 50th Birthday Party.
My husband took the Magnificent Seven to work with him on Monday morning, and the little girl's Dad picked them up. I am happy to report that all transfers went smoothly and they have been safely returned to the child, who is understandably beside herself over seeing her stuffies! And, while my vocabulary is absolutely not G-rated, I do hope she gets the chance to look at the pictures of the adventures we had on our Spontaneous Weekend Getaway with the Magnificent Seven!
But is that what you do with little girls? I mean I know it's different to parent a girl. But I don't get it because I have boys and they just verbally abuse each other while we're driving down the highway, roof open, windows down, rain pelting our faces, while Garbage or Joan Jett, Concrete Blonde or really early Melissa Etheridge or some other Angry Lesbian Music turned up to 11 blast from the speakers in the Highlander with me singing at the top of my lungs to provide my own white noise and drown out the screams from the backseat. Ya know...it's the Anderson Family Circus up to it's usual shenanigans. But, it's been worse, the boys used to physically abuse each other while I was driving...at least that's no longer happening. Always see the light. Do not Hapkido your brother. Ous!
Anyway, we didn't realize the bag had been left behind until all of our party guests had vacated. It wasn't a gift bag. It was a lumpy grey bag with pastel colored elephants, and a white ribbon drawstring closure. Oh my.
When I saw it sitting near all of our shoes and boots near the front door, my 8-11/12 year old son yelled, in what seemed like slow motion, that the child had left her stuffies. I knew this had the potential to go south really fast because:
a. She is four and had some challenges in leaving the party (I've been there and completely understand, so I'm not judging).
b. My 11-1/2 year old is developmentally five and I need to find a good hiding spot for whatever stuffed animals are in the bag because my child could loose it for any number of reasons including but not limited to being sad for her because she won't have her animals tonight, or when we have to return them it could get ugly.
c. Fuck I hope none of the stuffies are cats because cats are his autism thing. Please Jesus, no cats.
d. They live on the other side of the county. We've gotta coordinate a drop off. Dad's are both employed by PC; maybe they can coordinate. (Hahahahahahah!!!!! Right?! Translation: the moms will coordinate the dads. Obviously.)
Like any parent facing a potential stuffie emergency, I immediately grabbed my phone and saw that my friend texted me about 90 minutes prior, notifying me of the drama. I replied that we would happily keep the animals secure for two nights. Understandably, the little girl was very sad, but was somehow convinced that the animals would have a fun vacay at the Anderson Abode.
And, breathe....
Not that she wouldn't have lived, but you know...it's a bummer for any kid to not have their favorite...seven...stuffed animals on hand at any given moment. I get it. My kids are stuffed animal whores. The collection they each have is enormously ridiculous.
So, anyway, we took care of the Magnificent Seven: Sally, Sarah, Catty, Pickles, Sprinkles, Lettuce, and Ballet Dog for a Spontaneous Weekend Getaway...
Heh...and you guys thought I was gonna say that Randy and I were going away for a weekend, didn't you? Hahaha! That's a fantastic idea! But do you realize how much planning it takes to coordinate a weekend trip for the parents of a special needs child?
Anyway, the Spontaneous Weekend Getaway was delightful! The Magnificent Seven were wonderful house guests! The boys and I had fun picking out which had been named what and our conclusions are:
Ballet Dog is the only dog and has little pink feet like a ballet dancer (ok it's a gimme)
Lettuce is a bunny (that's fuckin' brilliant!)
Sprinkles is the little pink cat with multi colored dots and they look like sprinkles (how am I doin?)
Pickles may be the rainbow caterpillar because he's the same shape as a pickle...?
Catty is the bigger tan cat...?
I'm lost on Sally and Sarah but they're cats.
Three cats.
Are you fuckin' kidding me? Goddamn four-year-old left three goddamn cats at my house after the Biggest Birthday Bash EVER? Fuck. Because my son's special needs head is going to fucking explode when he finds out. Jesusfuckinchrist. I mean, seriously? I've got to hide these, stat!
Because cats are my autistic kid's thing. Typically, people on the spectrum have a "thing"...and it can change over time. But their thing is something they deeply care for...or are fixated on...and his thing is cats. It has been for years. Wants to own a cat, but Dad is allergic. Bummer. But even so, we all know it would end up being my job to clean the goddamned litter box and I am not a litter box cleaner, so, no. His "thing" for a long time was Angry Birds (all versions, no, really)...and so we took that and ran with it...my family language is Levels.
My bigger concern was that my son on the spectrum was going to struggle with letting the stuffed animals, particularly the cats, go back to their owner, but he actually did really well...because all the stuffies need to stay together! We need to respect our young friend and her belongings. Let's be responsible and keep all of her stuffed animals together in their bag. Yes, fantastic idea, Nathan! It's their sleeping bag! You are so clever, son....
I texted my friend a few pics of the unplanned but very well-behaved house guests so that her young daughter would feel comfortable knowing her crew were being well-cared for. I mean they were here for two nights, so it's kinda a big deal when you're only four. And because we don't leave the house on Sundays. It's our stay-home-family-I-kicked-their-asses-in-Wii-Bowling-AGAIN-day. Oh! And this past Sunday was my husband's official 50th birthday. So, there was that....
We kept our house guests busy with lots of fun activities, including...well...here is their photo journal. Because I didn't want to inundate the little girl's Mom's phone, or potentially annoy the shit out of her and forever damaging our friendship. Right? But, there's some stuff that simply needs to be shared in a photo journal.
I present: Spontaneous Weekend Getaway....
 |
| Fancy dinner on Saturday night |
 |
| Tuckered out after a long day of partying. Seen with Isaac's animals. |
 |
| Nathan shared his Sunday morning breakfast of carrots and Annie's Mac&Cheese |
 |
| Helped me grade a little.... |
 |
| Helping to vacuum. They did great! |
 |
| Supervision and security details |
 |
| TV break! |
 |
| A little more TV.... |
 |
| Birthday Cake break! |
 |
| The slide needed drying off! |
 |
| Our swing set can be intimidating, so boys were helping the Magnificent Seven |
 |
| Just swinging.... |
 |
| Learning to swing.... |
 | |
| On the tire swing! So fun! |
 | |
| The Magnificent Seven's multipurpose bag. He did this all on his own. |
 |
| Look out! The Birthday Boy is getting in on the action! |
 |
| WHOOPS! Everyone is ok but let's take a break and do something else! |
 |
| Big dog trying the slide alone! So courageous! |
 |
| Isaac helping Lettuce steer the ship |
 |
| Isaac helping Lettuce be a spy |
 |
| Nathan climbing the frame |
 |
| Climbing the rock wall! So brave! |
 |
| Nathan helps Ballet Dog while Isaac helps Catty (?) |
 |
| Isaac giving a spot to 2 of the 7 |
 |
| They had some tough decisions but they each chose nice colors! |
 |
| Bike race Wii Sports Resort |
 |
| Daddy's Birthday Dinner: It's Taco Night! |
 |
| Tuckered out after a busy Sunday! Seen in Nathan's bed. I told you my kids are stuffed animal whores. |
As you can see, we kept the Magnificent Seven quite busy at their Spontaneous Weekend Getaway! I think their favorite was the rock wall, which was really quite an adventure! It was actually quite fun for us that she accidentally forgot her bag of stuffies: it gave us a creative outlet...and a different way to teach and learn helping someone else, being kind, responsible, and respectful, and trying to turn a negative into a positive. We also enhanced our Team Anderson skills...which needed a little help, given we were all fried from the 50th Birthday Party.
My husband took the Magnificent Seven to work with him on Monday morning, and the little girl's Dad picked them up. I am happy to report that all transfers went smoothly and they have been safely returned to the child, who is understandably beside herself over seeing her stuffies! And, while my vocabulary is absolutely not G-rated, I do hope she gets the chance to look at the pictures of the adventures we had on our Spontaneous Weekend Getaway with the Magnificent Seven!
Monday, March 12, 2018
Big Weekend
We had a big weekend. Actually, it was huge weekend, because my husband turned 50 years old. This post isn't going to be all mushy, maybe, but, we'll see where we go...
I will say that the last time I threw this man a party we were living in Las Vegas, several friends were in town, we ate dinner at The Cheesecake Factory at the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace, then went to see Steven Wright at some other resort. So, that was in like 2000, or maybe 2001....it's been a while...and we've had a lot of life happen since then.
And now that I have children and a big backyard and a forest, I throw a different type of party. Duh. Right? You don't party in Las Vegas in your 20's without kids, like you do in Port Angeles in your mid to late 40's, with kids. Obviously. Well, we don't anyway. More power to ya if you do, I suppose....
So, once he decided he wanted a party, since 50 is a half a century and not to be taken lightly, although as a mathematician, he'll say "it's just a number" but seriously? It's not. Not after what you've been through. Mmm...no...because in 2015, you watched your wife go through breast cancer surgery, and then chemo and radiation treatments. And that same summer, you watched from far away as your father died of prostate and skin cancers. And then in 2016, you went through tonsil cancer caused by HPV. And there's the daily medical needs of our child with a rare form of epilepsy which causes intellectual and developmental disabilities. And then there's his autism. So, it's not just a number, dude. It's 50. Five. Zero. And you've dealt with, and deal with, a lot of shit, so I'm throwing you a party. Ok?
I rarely ask his permission...I usually ask forgiveness and not permission...so this was more of a persuasion. I'm good at persuading. A persuader, if you will.... But really, it wasn't a hard sell.
Annnnyyyyway, our people showed up and we all partied like rock stars, including one person who shall not be named, who passed out in a chair. In his defense, he's not double digits yet, and had a rather busy night the night before, as little boys tend to do....
I only took a few pictures, mostly of aforementioned sleeping child, who wasn't mine, by the way, because I really wanted to give myself the opportunity to enjoy the moment. The beauty of enduring friendships. The sun shining through the three southern facing sky lights. My family. I am thankful for so much. I survived breast cancer for this.
Having snippets of beautiful views of life. Our living room filled with friends. The island in our kitchen spilling over with delicious foods people generously brought and shared. My First Port Angeles friend, who is nearly six feet tall, knowing exactly when to breeze into my kitchen, without me asking, and without having to drag over a chair to stand up on, she easily reached inside the cabinet to the top shelf above the stove for the little container of blue birthday candles I happen to keep up there because Boy Mom and...that's all I got...?
Shit. Shit that's only like 10. Maybe 12...candles.
HOLY SHIT I FORGOT TO BUY CANDLES!!!! HOW IN THE GODDAMN DO I FORGET TO BUY A 5 AND A 0!?!?!? Randy and I even talked about it and he said he didn't want 50 individual candles and Isaac tried to figure out how to get fifty candles represented and....
Jesus, Rachel.
It's not like you weren't busy earlier this week. Who in their right mind plans an over night medical appointment in Seattle and throws her husband's Biggest Birthday Bash because he's fifty in the same week? Me. Yup. It's what I do. Oh well....
I've got jumbo emergency candles, which are horrible to light during an emergency because you could end up burning the whole goddamn house down. Why do we even have those? Let's just keep them and throw them away in a few years. Or keep them in case of emergency.
What about this 10" ivory taper candle...which apparently also like a communion candle (or some bullshit...in my house? Seriously?) Yup! Totally works! Let's use that in one cake, and then put four blue birthday candles around it. And in the other cake we took five more blue birthday candles and five plus five is ten and ten goes into fifty nicely so there you go! Besides, fifty candles would take too long to light. This totally works! What could go wrong? I mean we have a first responder at the party, so we're good!
And, yes, you get two goddamn cakes from Costco when you turn 50! Or at least at this party you do!
Because when you've been through tonsil cancer treatment and the radiation changed your taste buds I didn't know which chocolate cake, exactly, you were going to like so I got two different ones. Also, there were damn near FIFTY PEOPLE at your FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY PARTY, YOU GUYS!!! One cake ain't gonna cut it, Randy Anderson.
Because you wanted a party, so I threw you a party. It's my job. It's what I do. I love you. You can thank me later....mmmm...hmmmm.....
Anyway the party was fantastic, even through I totally forgot to serve hot coffee and hot tea. Whoops. Sorry. It was a little crazy because there were a ton of people in my small house! But I did serve cold lemonade, a rare treat in the Anderson Abode. And water. Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus we got purified water coming outta the fridge.
I absolutely did not permit anyone to discuss work. Because it's a BIG PARTY at MY HOUSE and it's MY RULES and NO WORK. Stop. It. Thank you.
I threw all the kids outside a lot because Anderson Park was open and it was a beautiful day. #optoutside
Thank you to everyone who came to the Anderson Abode to celebrate Randy's Fiftieth Birthday Bash! We truly appreciate all of you! And to those of you who were unable to attend, we missed you and appreciate you anyway!
And, dammit I throw an awesome party!
I will say that the last time I threw this man a party we were living in Las Vegas, several friends were in town, we ate dinner at The Cheesecake Factory at the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace, then went to see Steven Wright at some other resort. So, that was in like 2000, or maybe 2001....it's been a while...and we've had a lot of life happen since then.
And now that I have children and a big backyard and a forest, I throw a different type of party. Duh. Right? You don't party in Las Vegas in your 20's without kids, like you do in Port Angeles in your mid to late 40's, with kids. Obviously. Well, we don't anyway. More power to ya if you do, I suppose....
So, once he decided he wanted a party, since 50 is a half a century and not to be taken lightly, although as a mathematician, he'll say "it's just a number" but seriously? It's not. Not after what you've been through. Mmm...no...because in 2015, you watched your wife go through breast cancer surgery, and then chemo and radiation treatments. And that same summer, you watched from far away as your father died of prostate and skin cancers. And then in 2016, you went through tonsil cancer caused by HPV. And there's the daily medical needs of our child with a rare form of epilepsy which causes intellectual and developmental disabilities. And then there's his autism. So, it's not just a number, dude. It's 50. Five. Zero. And you've dealt with, and deal with, a lot of shit, so I'm throwing you a party. Ok?
I rarely ask his permission...I usually ask forgiveness and not permission...so this was more of a persuasion. I'm good at persuading. A persuader, if you will.... But really, it wasn't a hard sell.
Annnnyyyyway, our people showed up and we all partied like rock stars, including one person who shall not be named, who passed out in a chair. In his defense, he's not double digits yet, and had a rather busy night the night before, as little boys tend to do....
I only took a few pictures, mostly of aforementioned sleeping child, who wasn't mine, by the way, because I really wanted to give myself the opportunity to enjoy the moment. The beauty of enduring friendships. The sun shining through the three southern facing sky lights. My family. I am thankful for so much. I survived breast cancer for this.
Having snippets of beautiful views of life. Our living room filled with friends. The island in our kitchen spilling over with delicious foods people generously brought and shared. My First Port Angeles friend, who is nearly six feet tall, knowing exactly when to breeze into my kitchen, without me asking, and without having to drag over a chair to stand up on, she easily reached inside the cabinet to the top shelf above the stove for the little container of blue birthday candles I happen to keep up there because Boy Mom and...that's all I got...?
Shit. Shit that's only like 10. Maybe 12...candles.
HOLY SHIT I FORGOT TO BUY CANDLES!!!! HOW IN THE GODDAMN DO I FORGET TO BUY A 5 AND A 0!?!?!? Randy and I even talked about it and he said he didn't want 50 individual candles and Isaac tried to figure out how to get fifty candles represented and....
Jesus, Rachel.
It's not like you weren't busy earlier this week. Who in their right mind plans an over night medical appointment in Seattle and throws her husband's Biggest Birthday Bash because he's fifty in the same week? Me. Yup. It's what I do. Oh well....
I've got jumbo emergency candles, which are horrible to light during an emergency because you could end up burning the whole goddamn house down. Why do we even have those? Let's just keep them and throw them away in a few years. Or keep them in case of emergency.
What about this 10" ivory taper candle...which apparently also like a communion candle (or some bullshit...in my house? Seriously?) Yup! Totally works! Let's use that in one cake, and then put four blue birthday candles around it. And in the other cake we took five more blue birthday candles and five plus five is ten and ten goes into fifty nicely so there you go! Besides, fifty candles would take too long to light. This totally works! What could go wrong? I mean we have a first responder at the party, so we're good!
And, yes, you get two goddamn cakes from Costco when you turn 50! Or at least at this party you do!
Because when you've been through tonsil cancer treatment and the radiation changed your taste buds I didn't know which chocolate cake, exactly, you were going to like so I got two different ones. Also, there were damn near FIFTY PEOPLE at your FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY PARTY, YOU GUYS!!! One cake ain't gonna cut it, Randy Anderson.
Because you wanted a party, so I threw you a party. It's my job. It's what I do. I love you. You can thank me later....mmmm...hmmmm.....
Anyway the party was fantastic, even through I totally forgot to serve hot coffee and hot tea. Whoops. Sorry. It was a little crazy because there were a ton of people in my small house! But I did serve cold lemonade, a rare treat in the Anderson Abode. And water. Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus we got purified water coming outta the fridge.
I absolutely did not permit anyone to discuss work. Because it's a BIG PARTY at MY HOUSE and it's MY RULES and NO WORK. Stop. It. Thank you.
I threw all the kids outside a lot because Anderson Park was open and it was a beautiful day. #optoutside
Thank you to everyone who came to the Anderson Abode to celebrate Randy's Fiftieth Birthday Bash! We truly appreciate all of you! And to those of you who were unable to attend, we missed you and appreciate you anyway!
And, dammit I throw an awesome party!
 |
| My family, with all 10 candles accounted for (note the communion candle) |
 |
| Happy Birthday, dude! |
 |
| Two cakes, we had very little leftover (thankfully!) |
 |
| Happy Birthday! |
 |
| Happy Birthday! |
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Love Hate
I have a love hate relationship with this place.
I love that Children's Hospital exists and that my son has, over the past 5+ years, been the recipient of quality healthcare.
I hate that Children's Hospital exists and that my son is a regular patient there. Currently, he's on the twice-annual-check-up list. It used to be much more frequent, when he was first diagnosed.
Today was a check-up that should've been done in January. But, ya know, life happens for other people and the doc needed to reschedule it for whatever reason...so by the time we could coordinate calendars and all of the goddamn phone tag, we're into March. Jesusgodbless the health care system.
Anyway...
Today was hard.
Because for my family, since we're at a heightened sense of awareness that any "check-up" could result in "you're fucking life is at risk, again" there ain't no such thing as a "check-up" in the Anderson Abode.
On Monday and Tuesday I had to push them on getting the doc to put the orders in for my son's blood drawn, knowing the results wouldn't be in before the appointment, but because we were there and goddamnit when we got it drawn at home last time there was a mix up and we're already in the city and can't we just do this, please? Why hasn't he put the goddamn order in yet? I've been calling for two weeks. FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK.
Fuck it. His appointment isn't until 10:30, and we check in at 10:15, so if I don't give him his morning anti-seizure pharmaceutical but a double dose of Charlotte's Web his seizures could be kept to a minimum until after the blood draw. And he eats the purple box of the Annie's mac&cheese that I made yesterday, that I can heat up in the microwave at the new to us hotel (which really was exciting and super stressful because autism) they can still draw his blood after the clinic appointment, we should be outta there by 11:30 if things go smoothly.
Ok so you want to know how much of the pharmaceutical is in his blood and I want to know what the fuck is going on with his liver and his kidneys because you've got him on the level six and seven drugs to stop his motherfuckin seizures and if these goddamned drugs stop working, or his organs get fucked up because of these drugs, godforbid, then what the fuck do we do?
Yup. I'll call you on Wednesday next week and get the results of the blood draw. Thank you, doctor, for making any medication adjustments via a quick phone call with me. I know you're a very busy person and that you get to help a lot of children. And families. Thank you for helping me remember that his behavior and his uncontrollable laughter, especially when i am stressed, is not my fault. That his development is so delayed it leaves him vulnerable. I know. Goddammit I wish it wasn't true but it is. People with intellectual/developmental disabilities are seven times more likely than a neurotypical person to be victim of sexual assault. And, as a mom of boys, an erection does not equal consent.
Yes. There are lots of things he can do. He can shoot a basket. Nathan tell the doctor about what happened at the Special Olympics! And he is going to participate in soccer academy at the college; this will be his third year. And, yes, he's continuing to study martial arts; it helps all of us on many levels that both he and his brother participate in these activities.
My husband and I are both doing well. Thank you for asking. Neither of us have any evidence of disease. Yes. Thank you. We'll see you in 6-7 months. 11:23 am. Less than an hour. He's gettin' good. It's only taken me 5 years to train this doc. It's ok...he's a good egg and I'm thankful he's on my son's health care team.
Out. Down the hall. Up from the fifth floor--thank the Sweet Baby Jesus the quake didn't happen when we were down on five. Fuck. We'd have been buried alive. Elevator up to seven. Dammit the lab is on eight. Of course it is. With the pediatric cancer patients. Goddamnit. I have a love hate relationship with this place. Fuck. Why the fuck doesn't the government throw more money at those kids? Pro-life my ass. Fuckers. Pro-goddamn-oppress-women-fucking-fucks.
Hi. Yes, for a blood draw. Great. Thanks. Nathan, here's the iPad. Sit. Wait. Tick. Tock. Goddamn. That poor kid. Oy. And oh, sweet itty bitty brand new baby in a stroller with an oxygen tube in her nose and momma carrying the pump and oh i can't and thank you for just seizure disorder and autism because wow i can't even right now because I have a love hate relationship with this place. Fuck...how do they get through the day? And the nights? It's always worse at night.
Phone. Help an old friend who is very dear to you and has a young son who is melting.... You need to look for patterns. And if his sister wants to help, before the next meltdown, can she maybe think of two ways or two things she can do to help him when he's melting? What type of things help her when she's frustrated? Could those same things help her brother? Write down what doesn't work. Shit will leave your brain faster than you anticipate.
Nathan.
Down the busy hall into the small room goddamnit not a student ok...phew! Honey I need the iPad and then yes you can come right back to it. Thank you. You are so brave and strong! I know but look at me. You've done this a lot. You're at the boss level with this. Why isn't his vein in his arm up? Oh...of course...because he's been on the iPad since we rolled in the hospital 2 hours ago. Yup. That vein in his wrist looks good to me. But it's his body and he gets the final say. Nathan you are the bravest kid I know. Breathe. It's ok to cry honey. I know it hurts and I'm so sorry. Look at me. Look in my eyes. I'm right here, sweetie. You're doing great.... Yeah...it's taking a while. There you go! OH! And she's making a green bandaid with the tape! That is so cool! How did she know green is your favorite color? Yup! She is brilliant! And she did a great job!
At least we didn't have to do your foot again. Yup. You were little and not cooperating with giving me the iPad so I made the decision for them to go into your foot. You did not cry on that one. When the nurses stick a needle in me, I don't look. The anticipation is too much and creates stress and I prefer to look away and take belly breaths. I love you very much and am very proud of you. I know you're hungry. Here. Show the phlebotomists how you take three big pills at once. Yeah! You rock! High five!
Out. Down the elevator to seven. He's too slow on the stairs and we need to move quickly. He's starving. My window is closing rapidly. The cafeteria has nothing that I'm willing to spend money on. I have a love hate relationship with this place.
Hey, let's go to the car and eat the homemade chicken nuggets we brought and some bell peppers and carrots and after we eat then we can stop at QFC and get some Jojos. And a goddam coffee for me. And chocolate for Daddy and Isaac. And me and you, too.
Let's go home.
I love that Children's Hospital exists and that my son has, over the past 5+ years, been the recipient of quality healthcare.
I hate that Children's Hospital exists and that my son is a regular patient there. Currently, he's on the twice-annual-check-up list. It used to be much more frequent, when he was first diagnosed.
Today was a check-up that should've been done in January. But, ya know, life happens for other people and the doc needed to reschedule it for whatever reason...so by the time we could coordinate calendars and all of the goddamn phone tag, we're into March. Jesusgodbless the health care system.
Anyway...
Today was hard.
Because for my family, since we're at a heightened sense of awareness that any "check-up" could result in "you're fucking life is at risk, again" there ain't no such thing as a "check-up" in the Anderson Abode.
On Monday and Tuesday I had to push them on getting the doc to put the orders in for my son's blood drawn, knowing the results wouldn't be in before the appointment, but because we were there and goddamnit when we got it drawn at home last time there was a mix up and we're already in the city and can't we just do this, please? Why hasn't he put the goddamn order in yet? I've been calling for two weeks. FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK.
Fuck it. His appointment isn't until 10:30, and we check in at 10:15, so if I don't give him his morning anti-seizure pharmaceutical but a double dose of Charlotte's Web his seizures could be kept to a minimum until after the blood draw. And he eats the purple box of the Annie's mac&cheese that I made yesterday, that I can heat up in the microwave at the new to us hotel (which really was exciting and super stressful because autism) they can still draw his blood after the clinic appointment, we should be outta there by 11:30 if things go smoothly.
Ok so you want to know how much of the pharmaceutical is in his blood and I want to know what the fuck is going on with his liver and his kidneys because you've got him on the level six and seven drugs to stop his motherfuckin seizures and if these goddamned drugs stop working, or his organs get fucked up because of these drugs, godforbid, then what the fuck do we do?
Yup. I'll call you on Wednesday next week and get the results of the blood draw. Thank you, doctor, for making any medication adjustments via a quick phone call with me. I know you're a very busy person and that you get to help a lot of children. And families. Thank you for helping me remember that his behavior and his uncontrollable laughter, especially when i am stressed, is not my fault. That his development is so delayed it leaves him vulnerable. I know. Goddammit I wish it wasn't true but it is. People with intellectual/developmental disabilities are seven times more likely than a neurotypical person to be victim of sexual assault. And, as a mom of boys, an erection does not equal consent.
Yes. There are lots of things he can do. He can shoot a basket. Nathan tell the doctor about what happened at the Special Olympics! And he is going to participate in soccer academy at the college; this will be his third year. And, yes, he's continuing to study martial arts; it helps all of us on many levels that both he and his brother participate in these activities.
My husband and I are both doing well. Thank you for asking. Neither of us have any evidence of disease. Yes. Thank you. We'll see you in 6-7 months. 11:23 am. Less than an hour. He's gettin' good. It's only taken me 5 years to train this doc. It's ok...he's a good egg and I'm thankful he's on my son's health care team.
Out. Down the hall. Up from the fifth floor--thank the Sweet Baby Jesus the quake didn't happen when we were down on five. Fuck. We'd have been buried alive. Elevator up to seven. Dammit the lab is on eight. Of course it is. With the pediatric cancer patients. Goddamnit. I have a love hate relationship with this place. Fuck. Why the fuck doesn't the government throw more money at those kids? Pro-life my ass. Fuckers. Pro-goddamn-oppress-women-fucking-fucks.
Hi. Yes, for a blood draw. Great. Thanks. Nathan, here's the iPad. Sit. Wait. Tick. Tock. Goddamn. That poor kid. Oy. And oh, sweet itty bitty brand new baby in a stroller with an oxygen tube in her nose and momma carrying the pump and oh i can't and thank you for just seizure disorder and autism because wow i can't even right now because I have a love hate relationship with this place. Fuck...how do they get through the day? And the nights? It's always worse at night.
Phone. Help an old friend who is very dear to you and has a young son who is melting.... You need to look for patterns. And if his sister wants to help, before the next meltdown, can she maybe think of two ways or two things she can do to help him when he's melting? What type of things help her when she's frustrated? Could those same things help her brother? Write down what doesn't work. Shit will leave your brain faster than you anticipate.
Nathan.
Down the busy hall into the small room goddamnit not a student ok...phew! Honey I need the iPad and then yes you can come right back to it. Thank you. You are so brave and strong! I know but look at me. You've done this a lot. You're at the boss level with this. Why isn't his vein in his arm up? Oh...of course...because he's been on the iPad since we rolled in the hospital 2 hours ago. Yup. That vein in his wrist looks good to me. But it's his body and he gets the final say. Nathan you are the bravest kid I know. Breathe. It's ok to cry honey. I know it hurts and I'm so sorry. Look at me. Look in my eyes. I'm right here, sweetie. You're doing great.... Yeah...it's taking a while. There you go! OH! And she's making a green bandaid with the tape! That is so cool! How did she know green is your favorite color? Yup! She is brilliant! And she did a great job!
At least we didn't have to do your foot again. Yup. You were little and not cooperating with giving me the iPad so I made the decision for them to go into your foot. You did not cry on that one. When the nurses stick a needle in me, I don't look. The anticipation is too much and creates stress and I prefer to look away and take belly breaths. I love you very much and am very proud of you. I know you're hungry. Here. Show the phlebotomists how you take three big pills at once. Yeah! You rock! High five!
Out. Down the elevator to seven. He's too slow on the stairs and we need to move quickly. He's starving. My window is closing rapidly. The cafeteria has nothing that I'm willing to spend money on. I have a love hate relationship with this place.
Hey, let's go to the car and eat the homemade chicken nuggets we brought and some bell peppers and carrots and after we eat then we can stop at QFC and get some Jojos. And a goddam coffee for me. And chocolate for Daddy and Isaac. And me and you, too.
Let's go home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)