April Was Autism Awareness Month

I’m going to say it. I just can’t stand the activism that treats Autism like a disease to be “cured” or “eradicated”. My reasons for having a visceral reaction to the language of Autism Awareness organizations that say “Working towards a cure” or similar verbiage start with my daughter, but they don’t end there.

Most parents live in Lake Wobegon when it comes to their kids. Of course we do. Unlike most American parents, though, I labor under no delusional that my child is a “special snowflake” that is somehow the benchmark by which all children before or since should be measured.

She is special, though. And part of what makes her special is her disability. Bear with me while I work this out. See, Autism Spectrum Disorder is considered a disability, specifically a learning disability for purposes of accommodations in the public school system. Thank you, President Clinton for signing the Americans with Disabilities Act in 1990. I was 16 and graduating from high school and had NO idea what that would mean to me as an adult. But it means everything.

Gabriella has Asperger’s Syndrome and Sensory Processing Disorder. And while some people look at it as “not really Autism” or “not as bad as Autism” or any other variation on that theme, it has impacted her life in very profound ways. And like it or not, critics, Asperger’s IS considered on the Autism Spectrum in the DSM. From Wikipedia:

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association, offers a common language and standard criteria for the classification of mental disorders.

ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) is not technically a “mental disorder”. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, Autism Spectrum Disorder is:

…the name for a group of developmental disorders. ASD includes a wide range, “a spectrum,” of symptoms, skills, and levels of disability.

So where does that put us right now?

Because she is wired differently, she sees the world differently. I like to say that she thinks so far outside the box that the box never existed in the first place. Her mind goes to places that it might not have ever discovered were she “normal”.

She is incredibly talented. Because of her disability, she has the ability to hyperfocus. Her ability to become so engaged with her artwork means she has a mastery that is rarely seen in a young person. It also, sadly, means that other things fall by the wayside. When she gets “in the zone”, you could drop bombs all around her and she would not notice. The uninitiated/unbelievers might say (and have said), “If she could oooonly apply that focus on [insert other thing], she’d do so well in [other thing].”

She is extremely sensitive. She feels things very deeply. Because of her disability, it often takes a huge emotional toll when the after-effects finally come home to roost. To this day, we still deal with the emotional aftermath of her preschool classmate who passed away when a small plane crashed into her house. It happened almost 10 years ago. But she still relives it almost daily. Especially when she gets close to people. She fears that something bad will happen to them, too. At the same time, her ability to feel deeply makes her very sensitive to the plight of others less fortunate. Some kids look at community service as something to be dreaded because it takes time away from “fun” stuff. She gladly will do community service because she cares.

She is incredibly smart even though she struggles with some academic subjects and especially on “assessments”. If you have a conversation with her for any length of time, you will end up impressed by how much she knows (if not her delivery style). Yes, it can take her a while to absorb certain topics, specifically procedure-based subjects, because her brain is wired differently, but once she gets it, it has been got. Permanently. There’s nothing she hasn’t learned that she has forgotten, I promise you.

When I think about all her strengths, even balanced against her weaknesses, that are directly related to her disability, I can’t even comprehend the merest inkling of wanting to “cure” her. Why would I change or eliminate what makes her an amazing human being? What would that say to her?

I’ll tell you what that would say to her:

It would say “You are less-than because you aren’t like everyone else”.

It would say, “You are a mistake”.

It would say, “You are a problem”.

People have equated ASD to other medical conditions like Diabetes in an attempt to get people to understand that saying things like “Why can’t you…” when the action is completely related to their disability and not something they can control easily (if at all). You would no more tell a Diabetic to just “get over” the Diabetes or tell a wheelchair bound individual to just “get up and walk”. But this does a disservice to the individual on the Spectrum.

It equates a neurological condition which can be helped only in certain circumstances (but certainly not ALL) by medication with a condition that is either controllable with medication or mitigated by assistive devices. Right now, the research shows a strong correlation to a genetic link with regard to ASD. It isn’t caused by vaccines. Or diet. Or environment. So please, do me a favor and don’t bring that up. Because when your child is almost a young adult, it’s unhelpful and rude for bystanders to armchair quarterback a woman’s prenatal health. It also makes you look stupid.

You might as well equate ASD with Bubonic Plague. Because that’s how my daughter takes your input. She has been ridiculed by her peers for being “different”. She has been verbally assaulted and told to kill herself to keep her peers from “catching Autism”. When you treat ASD like a disease and use language like “looking for a cure”, THAT is what you get.

New reports that people who commit atrocities who have a diagnosis of some form of ASD also add to the problem. Not every ASD person is going to go on a rampage and shoot up an elementary school. And yet, the first place news reports go is to that place. Then the cries of “Better mental health services” begin. Yes, there is a definite need for better mental health services in this country. But ASD isn’t a mental health issue by itself. ASD often is co-morbid with mental health issues. Depression, Anxiety, and more. Those definitely need to be addressed and treated appropriately.

My daughter is very outspoken and opinionated. Whether that is due to her diagnosis or she’s just like her mama (who learned it from her parents), is up for debate. She has her own voice. She’s incredibly self-aware. You might think that ASD folks aren’t, but you’d be so very wrong. In fact, many ASD folks suffer from anxiety because they are hyper-aware of how different they are and how they don’t fit into a society that caters to the “average”.

She doesn’t have social media because in her words, “I’m not ready for it”, so I’m her online ambassador. At almost 14, that shows a lot of maturity. What follows is from her heart:

She wants you to know that when you are “looking for a cure” what you really mean is that you wish she’d never been born. And by extension you wish that all Autistic people had never been born. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t want to change them from who they are.

She wants you to know that just because she is Autistic doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings or understand the world around her.

She wants you to know you can’t “catch” Autism any more than you can catch being stupid. (her words, gang, not mine)

She wants you to know that she isn’t “retarded”.

She wants you to know she isn't a mass-murderer in the making.

This is Gabriella.

If you have the courage to say any of the above things (or any variation on those themes) to her, I have a few things I want you to know.

I’m the one that has to console her when she is made to feel less-than.

I’m the one paying for the inpatient mental health facility stays because she was tormented to the point of self-harm due to her disability.

I’m the one who fights the fight to get her the services and accommodations she needs.

I’m the one you will have to go through if you hurt my child.

Because I care about every kid who struggles with the same issues Gabriella faces, that's why it doesn't end with my child. My heart goes out to every child who faces the same discrimination and backlash because of their disability and diagnosis.

For those who have children on the Spectrum who deal with profound Autism behaviors, I feel for you. I know that our struggles compared to yours are merely a drop in the bucket. I know that they are life-altering in ways that I can probably never understand. I know you are doing the best you can. Hang in there.

Like Father, Like Son

I recently came across a kid picture of my husband and was shocked at just how much his son resembles him as a kid. I always thought he looked more like me until this picture. So for your perusal, a picture of the dad & the son, side by side:

Check out the eyebrows, cheeks, nose and grin. He is his father's son.

Happy Holidays...

Yeah, yeah, I know it's WAY too early to be thinking about anything other than Halloween costumes, candy corn and that sort of thing. But in the world of a procrastinator, if you want to get anything Christmasy related *done*, you better start right around the first day of fall. Especially if you are as picky as I am.

I've blogged before with much wailing and gnashing of teeth about the lamentable state of little boy "fashion". I swore my son would only wear suits and ties and so on. And he does when it counts. Little dude has SUCH an affinity for Thomas the Tank and Uh-QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN (Lighting McQueen to the uninitiated) that in order to stop embarassing meltdown moments in the store, I've caved and bought him some of it. It all started with the unfortunate incident where Little Dude peed himself and his carseat right before grocery shopping at the SuperTarget. I ended up with a diaperclad boy looking desparately for ANYTHING that was cheap and fit. When he saw Uh-QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN it was all over for me. I was desparate and it just snowballed from there.

What does that have to do with Christmas? Well, not a whole lot. However, while I can find a zillion and one licensed shirts, hoodies and shorts, finding a vest and tie for Christmas portraits to be taken October 29th, has been a challenge to say the very least. Especially when I needed LIME GREEN. And shiny. To match the girls' fuschia and purple sparkly dresses. You try finding something THAT specific in Vacation Central where it's still 95 degrees and people are still wearing shorts despite it being "Fall". When you give up like me, you're doomed to make it yourself or go without. It's a good thing that costume fabric is 40% off at JoAnn's. I scored a yard of shiny green satiny polyester that has a nice stiff backing for $6. Enough to make a vest and tie with a bit leftover. But getting fabric was half the battle. You try finding a pattern small enough to fit your 2.5 year old who still wears 12-18 months in most stuff and has had to wear a belt for over a year to keep his britches up. You're in luck because McCalls makes such an item. It comes in size 2-3-4-5. Size 2 is just about perfect. A wee bit loose, but it's a vest so I can safety pin it in the back and be happy. Here's the final product:

OK, so it's not final final since it has no buttons and the tie thingy doesn't have a fastener, but close enough for government work. I have to make a run to the store to find the *perfect* buttons. But I will. And it will be good.

Next up... Halloween Costumes. Because I'm NOT spending over $100 for three costumes made of cheap crap by slave labor in China. I'm just not.

Christmas Comes This Time Each Year

Time for pictures, time for cheer. And it's a darn good thing it only comes ONCE. Because the annual foray to acquire a suitable formal picture of the children is a nerve-wracking and harrowing experience. And not just for the poor photographers. Who deserve a patron saint of their own, really, for all they do. It only took a mere 62 pictures to achieve a few decent poses. Which is roughly 20.666666666666666666666666666667 poses per child. Give or take a decimal point or so.

While we were there, a family with 10 people in nicely matching outfits - girls wearing one thing and guys another - came in. How you get TEN people to all smile at the same time is beyond my comprehension when with only THREE little people it practically takes an act of congress.

See what I mean?

Say *Cheese*, not CHEESY!!!

My what lovely teeth you have there. Now can you please keep them inside?



The bathroom is around the corner and down the hall. Can't you hold it?



Gotta run, kthxbai!



I canNOT believe you are making those faces in an attempt to make me smile. That's so childish!

That's all folks!

Actually, we got some really GREAT shots - those were just the bloopers. Here's the whole gang and some selected individual poses:

For those of you lucky souls who get the newsletter via regular mail, you're entitled to one picture of my choosing from this lot. Enjoy!

I am Mommy, hear me roar!

I've been sick with a cold for a week or so. I have coughed so hard that I feel like I'm hacking up a lung. I should change my nickname to Typhoid Mary because it's so bad.

So all that said, the following events could be construed as the proverbial straw that proverbially broke the proverbial camel's proverbial back.

I woke up late. I knew that it had to be around 10:30 because the grating sounds of "Elmo's World" were issuing forth from the living room. In Dolby 5.1 surround no less. Elmo is bad enough in stereo, trust me. Surround sound just makes it worse.

I would have been up on time (whatever that means) except that I'd passed out on the sofa the night before - due to feeling like crap (decidedly UnScottish). I was woken from my sickly stupor at 2AM by the Prince Consort to remind me that the Sweet Potatoes for his work potluck today were not made. Nothing beats being woken up in the middle of a dream where you are playing Tetris to be told to haul ass to the kitchen at 2AM. The Sweet Potatoes were fixed and plopped in the oven on time bake but I'm paranoid, so I stayed up babysitting them until they were done and I could turn off the oven. 3:30AM saw me trying to squeeze into my bed and balance my rear on the edge while the Younger Princess Ella - all 26.5 pounds of her - took up my half of the bed.

After rolling out of bed to find the living room looked like an explosion of bedding, towels, clothing and toys (!) and the living room chairs were knocked sideways... I went to fix the girls breakfast only to find that they had helped themselves to SEVEN blueberry muffins. They didn't even share with their brother. I gave the boy one and called that breakfast. I horked a muffin and called that breakfast, too.

About this time, the brass band in my head starts to go off like rockets, so I hid out in the office and snarfed a Diet Mountain Dew. I must've been channelling PollyAnna to think that the Tornadic Trio (upgraded from The Disastrous Duo, upgraded from La Niña) weren't going to do what they do best - destroy the house.

[shakes head in dismay] How naïve of me. Really.

And while I'm being unabashedly honest, let me state for the record that I'm more than a little put out that every time I try to fix them a meal, they stare at it and say they are full even though they were starving less than 10 minutes before. I want to know what Magical Cookie House they are eating from. I put off feeding them lunch because I figured they weren't going to eat it anyway what with all the muffins and egg nog and what all they already got into.

Today's tragedy was BABY POWDER all over the floor. It was worse than the Great Baby Powder Fiasco of 2004 by an order of magnitude. It was not quiet so bad as the Great Baby Oil Adventure of 2004, though. Guess why? It involves cats and slugs. Oh yes, and the almost 6 year old - you read that right - peed on the floor. Because the bathroom that is unlocked and ten steps away was TOO FAR. Yes. Too far. I unplugged the antenna from their TV and removed it. All they get is snow. Which isn't bad considering it's the only snow they'll ever see in Florida.

Lest you think I'm a bad mom, I'm not. I give my kids chocolate cake for breakfast on occasion. And I give them eggs for dinner. Who doesn't? So I boxed up all the toys because I was tired of stepping on them. So what?! You'd do the same thing, too. I know a LOT of you have. But I'm not telling.

So I did what any mom would do - call HER mother. And vent. And for once, I was able to hear what she was saying. I even took notes. That's right. Notes. On a steno pad. SRSLY. She gave me some advice that I was just desperate enough to use. And for once, her advice worked.

But don't tell her that. She might get a big head or something. Like say "I told you so". [horrors]

My children now live by the timer. Every activity is now governed by the All Mighty, All Powerful Timer known as "Da Man". There little lives belong to me. My name is Mommy, but you can call me Drill Seargent. Shortly after getting off the phone with mom, martial law was instituted. The new rules go like this:

• You will sit down at the table and you will not move from your seat until you have finished eating.
• You WILL eat everything on your plate including the crusts on your sandwiches.
• You will eat in the allotted time and anything you do not finish before the timer rings goes in the trash and you will not get more food/drink until the next time it is served to you.
• Children do NOT go into the refrigerator for anything for any reason ever again at all. OR ELSE.
• Once you have finished eating you will go to the bathroom, you will pee and/or poop and you will wash your hands and brush your teeth.
• You will then procede to your beds where you WILL lie down quietly and you WILL sleep until I summon you.

As of this moment, the children have done all the above and have been sleeping since 3PM. I can expect them to sleep at least another 45 minutes to an hour and a half. Life is Good. Very GOOD.

The new schedule looks like this (and woe to any child who strays from the path of righteousness):

8:00 AM - Breakfast, brush teeth, potty
8:30AM - Make beds, get dressed, hair done
9:00 AM - Read/play QUIETLY
9:30 AM -
10:00 AM - Snack, potty
10:30 AM -
11:00 AM - Snack, potty
11:30 AM -
Noon - Lunch
12:30 PM - Brush teeth, potty
1:00 PM - Play time
1:30 PM - Nap time
3:30 PM - Snack, potty
4:00 PM - Computer Time
4:30 PM - Get ready
for evening activities
5:00 PM - Evening Activities such as dance, religious ed, etc
6:00 PM - Get ready for dinner
6:30 PM - Dinner
7:00 PM - Bath
7:30 PM - Quiet Time
8:00 PM - Bed Time

So this leaves time for things like schooling. And very little time for mischief. Or for me to hide out in the office. We'll see how it works. At the very least it should get me through until the end of December.

The Best Thing About Homeschooling

You want to know what the best thing about homeschooling is?

The fact that when Mama doesn't feel up to numerous iterations of workbooks and educational videos, she can just give the kids some paper dressed up as a "book" and let them have at it and it COUNTS! It's educational, I promise. I gave them a "project": Write a story and illustrate it. I think we're covering art, grammar, spelling, punctuation and creative writing as well as the all important "leave Mama alone so she can blog about you deal with her overreactive gallbladder" subject.

Here are the books BEFORE the Princesses Ella got hold of them:

The Younger Princess Ella is the one in the pink Sleeping Beauty Nightgown

You should only know how long it took me to FIND this picture once I uploaded it from my camera to my hard drive. Why it got sent to my VIDEO folder, I've no idea. Anyhow...

What I did to make the books:

• Find card stock in pile on desk.
• Let girls choose their own color from about 20 choices (the Elder choose purple, the Younger chose the pink)
• Grab handful of printer paper (there's a reason I buy this stuff at the warehouse store)
• Stack all paper together and cut roughly in half on the long side of the paper (exactly half would have been 5.5" but who's counting?)
• Find 3-hole punch and arrange puncher thingies so that it punches 3 holes down the "long" side of the paper
• String 3/8" wide grosgrain ribbon to make book
• Field exactly 3,874,089,152 questions about what the books are and are not
• Take picture and hide in office to blog about it while the girls knock themselves out creatively

Life is good. Except for my mother-frelling gallbladder which makes me irritable and tired and nauseated. It's days are numbered. Poor my kids. Little do they know that once Mama is done recuperating, their days of watching PBS all day in their PJs and eating Scooby Snakcs for breakfast are O-V-E-R. But I'm not telling them that. Let them have their little fun.

The Uterus as described by The Elder Princess Ella

My daughters are quite prolific when it comes to drawing and now to writing "stories". Especially about things they have recently seen or heard. So it should come as no surprise to me that after watching a PBS show on babies in utero, that the Elder Princess Ella would want to draw a picture of a uterus and then wax poetical about it. After all, she's not quite six. Below is the picture she drew and her commentary [verbatim] on it:

This is the uterus.
The lines are the insides of the uterus.
The food is important for it.

[commentary by the Younger Princess Ella: Food doesn't go in the uterus, it goes in the tummy]

This picture has the brocolli [top of picture - outside uterus - looks like a bizarro carrot] to take good care of the uterus.
It scrubs the insides.
The inner cord protects it.
When the baby is in there when it moes it's legs back and forth then the uterus grows.
When the babies come out the uterus will shrink back to it's normal size.
The middle core and the outer core help make the uterus stay together.
When they [baby] grow big, it's time to come out.
That's all.

The second picture is a sign made yesterday in the throes of "touching" angst and a sever desire NOT to leave the house to go to lunch at the Crapper Cracker Barrel (which I blogged about yesterday). Apparently, the Younger Princess Ella was impinging on the personal space of the The Elder and so she needed to make a sign. Translation below picture.


No sisters touching sisters and nobody is going nowhere

The third, and final picture is from today and details what the girls will be doing on Sunday evening (the night before my pre-op for gallbladder surgery). I would like you to note the correct use of apostrophe in this picture. Mama is teaching her children well. Translation follows picture:


Sunday night we spend the night at GrandCharlie's [my mother] house. Gabriella and Anabella

Where's The Beef (Stew)?

We eat out a lot. Probably a lot more than average. But one thing is certain, even if we don't eat out ANY other time, Wednesday Lunch with Mother Dearest and Nana is a given. We have in our locality pretty much a decent selection of national chains.

Within spitting distance of us we have Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins, Bennigan's, Outback Steakhouse, Cracker Barrel, Big Boy, Don Pablo's Waffle House, Denny's, Joe's Crab Shack, Logan's Roadhouse, Hops, Orlando Ale House, Steak 'n' Shake, Burger King, McDonald's, Olive Garden, Red Lobster, Ruby Tuesday, Hooters, Panera, Pollo Tropical, Wendy's & Panera. And I'm not even counting the local mom and pop places either. These places are ALL within walking distance of each other. And there's also the mall food court right there, too.

Given that we have so much "variety" you'd think that we wouldn't repeat a restaurant in a month (if not two) of Wednesdays. Even if you don't count the greasy spoons and fast food places. See, that would be too easy. Nana only eats certain types of food. I know it's because her dentures bother her (those are next up for replacing, just after my parents finish paying off her new hearing aids). So we stick to Olive Garden & Red Lobster mostly. If we're feeling REALLY adventurous (and Nana has a doctor's appointment the next town over) we might go to Chili's or a local mom and pop Japanese teppanyaki place. But those are rare occurrences (twice in the last year).

We used to go to Logan's more often, but Nana doesn't like it that much and since it's "her" day, we deal. Besides, they have $2 kid meals on Monday and Tuesday. Steak for $2! Yipes. Me likey. Especially with THREE little ones. I can score 3 meals for the price of 1.5. That's almost like buy one get one free. And lest you worry that I'm not tipping properly, I tip $1 per person and 50 cents for the baby (do the math: $3.50) flat rate. On a less than $12 bill, [rhetorical question] I think that's a decent tip, don't you?

Moving along, since Logan's is out, we've moved on to Cracker Barrel - the subject of today's blog. We (the three kids and I) were 40 minutes +/- LATE to lunch. Why? If you have more than half a kid, you probably know already. The eldest lost her shoes. She's only got one pair at this point (don't ask) so this is NOT GOOD. I'd already spent the morning (okay 20 minutes) ironing their dresses because they wouldn't be caught DEAD in jeans or shorts or anything not made out of cotton sunday-go-to-meetin' dress fabric. And then it was the hair-raising adventure of getting their hair brushed with all the requisite OUCH!!!!!!!es despite the fact that I was merely LOOKING at their hair and not actually touching it. Drama Queens much? And then it was peace talks and hostage negotiations aka "don't tell your sister you hate her. that's not nice. that hurt her feelings." and "give your brother back his toy, it isn't yours and now he's screeching and it's giving me a headache." Shoes found, hair brushed, baby octopus dressed (and that is a feat in and of itself) and out the door. How the instruction to "go to the car" turned into "chase the cat down the driveway and scatter in three different directions", I'll never know. So, we got to Cracker Barrel late.

The children ordered one Mac'n'Cheese lunch (Elder Ella), one kid's pancacke breakfast (Younger Ella). Prince Lorenzo ate some of my veggies. Mother Dearest had fried chicken tenderloins with fried okra and (not fried) pinto beans. She shared some of the chicken with Lorenzo. He wouldn't eat the breading. I don't blame him. Of course, the Ellas had to steal some of her okra (what's new) and the Elder Ella had some of her pinto beans, too. I had the veggie plate: cottage cheese (not a veggie, but I'm not telling), carrots, green beans & turnip greens. Since I've got gallbladder issues, I couldn't have the pepper sauce. Boo hoo. I let the kids have some of my carrots (ok most of them - I ate TWO baby carrots) and my green beans. And Nana? She got the Beef Stew. Or rather, the Beef *Flavored* Stew. It had precisely TWO half-inch square cubes of beef.

When we questioned the waitress, she was very apologetic and said that the item had been pulled from the menu previously because people complained that it didn't have enough beef. Nana wasn't buying it. She was pretty darn mad. Now she generally doesn't complain, but I think she wanted some MEAT. So I said I'd do what every savvy consumer does - BLOG about it. I explained about blogging and the virtual pen being mightier than the sword and whatnot. But I don't think that really got through. I just have to laugh about it, because I had this mental picture of the Wendy's commercial lady from the 80s...

Anyhow, I didn't end up complaining to management - and Nana was well and truly miffed. She was talking "false advertising" and whatnot. I figured it was good for a laugh - and we probably won't go back there again any time soon since Nana pretty much gets the beef(less) stew. Between that and the fact that the bill is pretty much always close to $35+tip for 3 adults and 2.75 kids, I think we'll stick to Olive Garden. There we can generally get away with $25+tip. Give or take.

Chow!

PS: We did give the waitress an almost $7 tip because she said my kids were "so well behaved".

Edit: I HAD to add this picture:

A friend IM'd me and said that she found their food to be pretty crappy. I just can't resist a good opportunity to poke fun using photoshop. Isn't it good I use my power for good and not for evil? Can you imagine what I would be like if I did things like this maliciously? I'd be working for a tabloid!

I can SO relate to this...

http://www.wholesomechildhood.com/homeschoolvideos/?p=237

In case you don't want to click the link, I embedded the YouTube Video here:

And for Moms too:

An Inconvenient Truth

Children, are that is.

They make messes, they puke on you, keep you up at night and generally make a nuisance of themselves. They have a way of consuming us that nothing else does. And it's not like you can send them back. So why do we bother?

It's not like these pint-size tornadoes can actually be safely pigeon-holed and trotted out on display for company. Unless you are royalty, of course. I mean, what's it all about, Alfie?

As a parent, I had PLANS. Oh yes, I did. We would do this and we wouldn't do that and my children would, OF COURSE, be perfect. Riiiiiiiiiiiight. Leaving aside the fact that my children ARE perfect, let's examine parenting and how it changes us.

Once upon a time, I was a beautiful, thin person with a perfect manicure and a red convertible sportscar. Five years and three kids later, I'm fluffy (my kids say "really fat") with broken nails and a 5 year old (paid for!) family sedan that has seen it's share of carsickness, pee pee accidents and other things that are too gross to name. At least the car is red like my Mustang was. Do I regret having kids? Hellno. Children strip away all the masks we wear. They show us for who we really are. If we're shallow - it will show. If we're patience-less - it'll show. Children are the true mirror of who we are.

Our priorities shift (or should) when we have kids. Once we become parents, we have these babies who are dependent on us for everything related to survival. I've heard babies compared to puppies or small animals, but even small animals can forage. babies can't do a blessed thing except lay there and look cute (and pee, poop & puke) for the longest time. It's a good thing they are so darn cute, because the newborn stage can be QUITE a trial (unless you get blessed with the Angel Child Who Is Super Easy). I had one easy-ish one, one difficult one and one easy-easy one. But I wouldn't trade any of them for a different model.

I thought parenting was going to be a slam dunk after my first. She was pretty easy going (except in the evenings) and so I thought #2 was going to be just as easy. #2 challenged every notion of what I thought parenting was. #3 simply confirmed that every child is different. What works for one child probably WON'T work for subsequent ones. In fact, I'd bet money on that. But then I can say that because I've been there done that a couple times already.

What's interesting to me is that my husband - who is from SE Asia - has this philosophy based on his upbringing: When you become a parent, YOUR life is no longer as important as that of your child(ren). Your dreams, goals and aspirations are secondary to raising your children. It's not about fitting ~them~ into ~your~ schedule or budget. The irony of this is that in America, where we have so much that is "child-centered", children are largely seen as a status symbol or fashion accessory - not unlike Paris Hilton's pooch. While we see children allowed to do whatever they please, it's not because the parents are necessarily being child-centric but because they don't want to be bothered to get out of their own way to parent. Parenting is HARD WORK. Now in Asia, it might seem that the needs of the one are glossed over in favor of the needs of the many (conformity in culture), but children are seen as the most important legacy a person can leave. Parents go without food so their children can eat. They discipline their children so that they can be productive members of society. They DON'T give in to a child's whims so that the child dosen't have "hang ups".

When I watch my in-laws interact with their children, I see something that I rarely see in the States. I see parents that LOVE their children beyond life itself. Unselfish love. And I am shamed. I am shamed because I KNOW I'm selfish. And I don't always love my children because they just ~are~. That's how our children love us, you know. At least in the beginning. And there's nothing better than baby love and kisses given because they are bursting with love for us. When Lorenzo hugs my hands to his face and gives baby kisses, it melts my heart. And I wonder if I deserve it. I probably DON'T.

Hug your babies, often. Tell them you love them. Don't begrduge them their infancy even if they DO wreak havoc on your schedule. Babies don't come with a Blackberry running Windows Mobile 5.1 with an auto-sync function. They aren't like an iPod that you can sync from one desktop to another. They are dynamic little buggers who challenge every single preconceived notion of who and what we are. They keep us honest.

Household Principles for Children

I ran across this somewhere on the web before I ever had kids and thought it was funny. I had no idea that it was TRUE. I never imagined that I would be saying anything remotely like these to my own kids, but there you go... I WISH I could lay claim to this one as my very own, so, while it's not mine, I think it is a worthwhile (and amusing) read:

Household Principles for Children
Based on the Old Testament
(Lamentations of a Father)
by Ian Frazier

Laws of Forbidden Places:

• Of the beasts of the field, and of the fishes of the sea, and of all foods that are acceptable in my sight you may eat, but not in the living room.
  
  
• Of the hoofed animals, broiled or ground into burgers, you may eat, but not in the living room.
  
  
• Of the cloven-hoofed animal, plain or with cheese, you may eat, but not in the living room.
  
  
• Of the cereal grains, of the corn and of the wheat and of the oats, and of all the cereals that are of bright color and unknown provenance you may eat, but not in the living room.
  
  
• Of quiescently frozen dessert and of all frozen after-meal treats you may eat, but absolutely not in the living room.
  
  
• Of the juices and other beverages, yes, even of those in sippy-cups, you may drink, but not in the living room, neither may you carry such therein.
  
  
• Indeed, when you reach the place where the living room carpet begins, of any food or beverage there you may not eat, neither may you drink.
  
  
• But if you are sick and are lying down and watching something, then may you eat in the living room.

Laws When at the Table:

• And if you are seated in your high chair, or in a chair such as a greater person might use, keep your legs and feet below you as they were.
  
  
• Neither raise up your knees nor place your feet upon the table, for that is an abomination to me.
  
  
• Yes, even when you have an interesting bandage to show, your feet upon the table are an abomination and worthy of rebuke.
  
  
• Drink your milk as it is given you, neither use on it any utensils, nor fork, nor knife, nor spoon for that is not what they are for; if you will dip your blocks in the milk and lick it off, you will be sent away.
  
  
• When you have drunk, let the empty cup then remain upon the table and do not bite it upon its edge and by your teeth hold it to your face in order to make noises in it sounding like a duck: for you will be sent away.
  
  
• When you chew your food, keep your mouth closed until you have swallowed, and do not open it to show your brother or your sister what is within; I say to you, do not so, even if your brother or your sister has done the same to you.
  
  
• Eat your food only; do not eat that which is not food; neither seize the table between your jaws, nor use the raiment of the table to wipe your lips.
  
• I say again to you, do not touch it, but leave it as it is.
  
  
• And though your stick of carrot does indeed resemble a marker, draw not with it upon the table even in pretend for we do not do that. That is why.
  
  
• And though the pieces of broccoli are very like small trees, do not stand them upright to make a forest because we do not do that. That is why.
  
  
• Sit just as I have told you and do not lean to one side or the other, nor slide down until you are nearly slid away. Heed me for if you sit like that your hair will go into the syrup. And now behold, even as I have said, it has come to pass.

Laws Pertaining to Dessert:

• For we judge between the plate that is unclean and the plate that is clean, saying first: if the plate is clean, then you shall have dessert.
  
  
• But of the unclean plate the laws are these: If you have eaten most of your meat and two bites of your peas with each bite consisting of not less than three peas each or in total six peas eaten where I can see and you have also eaten enough of your potatoes to fill two forks, both forkfuls eaten where I can see, then you shall have dessert.
  
  
• But if you eat a lesser number of peas and yet you eat the potatoes, still you shall not have dessert; and if you eat the peas yet leave the potatoes uneaten, you shall not have dessert, no, not even a small portion thereof.
  
  
• And if you try to deceive by moving the potatoes or peas around with a fork, that it may appear you have eaten what you have not, you will fall into iniquity and I will know and you shall have no dessert.

On Screaming:

• Do not scream; for it is as if you scream all the time. If you are given a plate on which two foods you do not wish to touch each other are touching each other, your voice rises up even to the ceiling, while you point to the offense with the finger of your right hand; but I say to you, scream not, only remonstrate gently with the server, that the server may correct the fault.
  
  
• Likewise if you receive a portion of fish from which every piece of herbal seasoning has not been scraped off, and the herbal seasoning is loathsome to you and steeped in vileness, again I say, refrain from screaming.
  
  
• Though the vileness overwhelm you and cause you a faint unto death, make not that sound from within your throat, neither cover your face, nor press your fingers to your nose. For even I have made the fish as it should be; behold, I eat it myself, yet do not die.

Concerning Face and Hands:

• Cast your countenance upward to the light and lift your eyes to the hills, that I may more easily wash you off. For the stains are upon you; even to the very back of your head, there is rice thereon. And in the breast pocket of your garment, and upon the tie of your shoe, rice and other fragments are distributed in a manner wonderful to see.
  
  
• Only hold yourself still; hold still, I say. Give each finger in its turn for my examination thereof, and also each thumb. Lo, how iniquitous they appear.
  
  
• What I do is as it must be; and you shall not go hence until I have done.

Various Other Laws, Statutes, and Ordinances:

• Bite not, lest you be cast into quiet time.
  
  
• Neither drink of your own bath water, nor of the bath water of any kind; nor rub your feet on bread, even if it be in the package; nor rub yourself against cars, not against any building; nor eat sand.
  
  
• Leave the cat alone, for what has the cat done, that you should so afflict it with tape?
  
  
• And hum not the humming in your nose as I read, nor stand between the light and the book. Indeed, you will drive me to madness.
  
  
• Nor forget what I said about the tape