O.M.G.

Just wanted to say that I haven't died, been committed or emigrated to Europe!
We just got home late last night from a week-long trip back to the mothership (that'd be Texas for all y'all who don't know) and we are T-I-R-E-D!
A quick recap before it's back to laundry and dog hair for me:

-Plane rides were so-so. I can't complain too much, though, because we could only go up from the last experience I had with little B. All in all, it was manageable.
-B does not like to nap while on vacation. Not. Even. Once. Well, except for the times he would fall asleep in the car five minutes before we got to our destination.
-B also does not like to sleep anywhere at night beside his own bed. The first night, it was M, B and I all crammed into one bed. B woke up every single hour. I am not exaggerating. The second night I managed to get he and M into the bed while I slept on an air mattress on the floor. He woke up about four times that night with obsessing over his newest passion, Lightening McQueen. And when I say 'obsessing' I mean that his eyes popped open at, oh, say, 3 a.m., and he immediately yelled in the whiniest voice you can imagine, 'LIGHTENING CAR! LIGHTENING CAR!' (and keep repeating ad nauseum)
It got no better after those first two nights, but fortunately I was able to sneak away one night to the hotel the other half was staying at after the Austin City Limits Music Festival.

And the last update which has left me both happy and feeling very confused about what to do:
-M had the very best time with his best friend, C. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that M has not interacted with another child in a somewhat typical manner since leaving the mothership. I mentioned to his current teacher that we were going back home and M was going to see his best friend. She was surprised to hear about this because she 'didn't think M was capable of forming friendships.' How's that for making you feel like total shit for moving your kid someplace where he's miserable? My parents also noted that M had regressed significantly. I'm just not sure what we can or should do to remedy this. I wish it wasn't so flippin' hot in Texas or I'd be pushing to get us the frack out of her NOW! But then there's that damned economic crisis thing our country is finding itself in and well, that could mean a whole lot of us being screwed if we tried to sell this house right now.

I've made this longer than intended. I have a ton of catching up to do around the homestead! Lots to think about as well. Hope everyone's had a great week!

Is it a Monday thing?

Another successful drop off this morning! Last week we had a perfectly zen-like entrance into school on a Monday (and not another day of the week after that), and this week we had a calm entrance on a Monday. Hmmm...should I tell him it is Monday every day?

So while the rest of the world loathes a Monday, my child seems to love them.

Apparently that's just how we roll 'round here in Normal-ville.

In other news, we are about to venture onto a plane that will take us on a nearly four-hour flight halfway across the country. I am more than a little nervous about this trip because the last time I flew with B I swore I wouldn't do it again until he was an adult. I am in no way exaggerating just how awful that flight was for me. (I was alone) I had an incredible arsenal of distractions that would have worked for any kid...any kid but mine, that is. We sat in a window seat, he on my lap, in a fully-packed plane, just six rows behind first class. I guess I must have started the trip out on a shaky note because like a doofus I sat one row behind what was actually our assigned seat. The mistake worked out reasonably well in that I ended up next to a very patient businessman (I know...an oxymoron, right?) who had a severely disabled daughter. B was a delight for the first 1.5 hours and then all hell broke loose for about 20 minutes...straight. And no, it didn't just feel like 20 minutes. It actually was 20 minutes!
Imagine that scene in the exorcist where Linda Blair is tied down in her bed and the demon is fully possessing her. Well, aside from his head turning around in a 360 and vomit spewing forth (though I swear it almost did), this was what B looked and sounded like. I've got a touch of the claustrophobia, so I imagine my son may as well. The child does not like to be restrained in any fashion, be it a stroller, in your arms (except on his terms) or especially on your lap on an airplane. I sweated bullets as I leaned forward in the 6 inches of wiggle room we had between us and the seat in front of us to pull out Elmo dvds, books, snacks, my cell phone, my keys, ANYTHING that I thought would get him to shut up, I mean feel better. Nada. It was all fruitless. At one point I even looked up toward first class and saw a flight attendant saying to a lovely man 'She is trying, sir. I can see her from here.' I made a point to thank this woman on my way out. She must have had children. I appreciated her sticking up for us unlike some of the other horrid stories you hear about evil flight attendants and children who are having tantrums. I am not kidding when I say that if we'd started the flight like this, I have no doubt I'd have ended up on the news after getting kicked off the plane. It was that bad. I even felt embarrassed after the flight when we had to wait for what felt like forever to get our bags from the conveyer belt. I was certain all eyes were on us, cursing us and who knows, maybe even putting an evil hex on us.
I talked to our pediatrician about this last week asking what I could do. Benadryl was all he could offer me. I know we've all heard about it, but no one likes to admit that they've done it. Well, I am about to admit to you that I plan on liquoring the wee B up at the gate before we board that plane. And I just might even give him another 1/2 of a teaspoon if it wears off!

Wish us luck!

The Set List

Here in the world of the blistless I am unable to come up with something extraordinarily witty to regale you lovely readers, so I am going to steal the idea one of you (hi, C back in A-town!) gave me. Well, stealing would be the wrong word since she actually called me one day with the idea.

I know you've been waiting on pins and needles for the results (not) so let's not waste anymore time, shall we?

*I'd like to preface this by saying that my one remaining brain cell does not currently have the power to compute the precise order in which I would perform the following tunes, so please don't go all psychology 101 on me and tell me that "x" should not follow "y" because it might depress the crowd, okay?

**I'd also like to preface this by saying that I am siting the singers of these songs and not necessarily the songwriters...for those nitpickers out there.

Here goes...

1. Angel from Montgomery - Bonnie Raitt
2. Me & Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin (Though I have to tell you...after way too many karaoke performances I'm getting kind of sick of this one)
3. Lonely Teardrops - Jackie Wilson
4. A Change Is Gonna Come - Sam Cooke
5. Life by the Drop - Stevie Ray Vaughan
6. If I Fell In Love With You - The Beatles
7. When I Think of You - Dolly Parton
8. Long Ride Home - Patty Griffin
9. Little Red Corvette - Prince
10. Ode to Billy Joe - Bobbie Gentry
11. Hurts So Bad - Susan Tedeschi
12. Morphine & Chocolate - 4 Non Blondes
13. Circle of Friends - Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians
14. Not a Drop of Rain - Robert Earl Keen
15. Seven Year Ache - Roseanne Cash
16. Fly - Patty Griffin

And there you have it, folks.

I know there are at least a couple of you out there in cyberland who still have that seemingly-lost dream of singing again. What's your song list?

I'm out of private mode & I have a new name!

I did a little google account finagling (wow, spell check didn't correct that word for me...guess those spelling bees paid off!), and now I am no longer spewing my thoughts to the wee eyes of my nieces and nephews. I've had to change the title/url of my blog to make this change complete. You can now find me at: http://thisismynewnormal.blogspot.com

I am also happy to report that today, 17 days into the school year, we had our first, fuss-free, didn't-have-to-drag-him-in-by-the-wrist-or-carry-him-like-he-wasn't-45 lbs., nobody-stared-at-us, drop-off at school. I hope that by typing that I haven't totally jinxed us.

We have been treating yeast and bacteria in M's gut off and on for nearly six months. For those of you not familiar with the biology of kids on the autism spectrum, it is thought that most have what they refer to as autistic enterocolitis, or leaky gut. So while all of us have a variety of weird bacteria and yeast growing in our stomachs, it does so fairly harmoniously. But in kids with autism, the numbers get out of balance and leak out of perforations in the gut affecting their entire nervous systems. I'm probably not describing this totally correctly, but you get the gist. It's still a very controversial thought, but it does resonate with me as I know that pretty much every kid on the spectrum that I have heard of has some sort of tummy problem. And when we don't feel good inside, how can we show anything different on the outside? Anyhow, we did some pretty aggressive antibiotics and are now almost done with a 20-day course of an antifungal medicine. I was warned that M's hyperactivity and stimming would likely get worse before it got better. Boy, howdy, did they! But I am skeptically wondering if we have turned a corner. He's still chewing like mad, but he just seems a little calmer to me. He is also trying to string all of his words and phrases together, as though he is really, really trying to hold a conversation with me. When he does it, he holds his arms out like he is orating and gets a very serious look on his face, with his lips pursed just so. And he says things like, 'And so...anybody, another time, Playhouse Disney, one more time, read a story, sometimes...' And he has these great inflections like he is really trying to get you to think about what it is that he is saying. Because it is very important, and he is working really hard to say it to you. And I listen intently, nodding occasionally, and repeating some of it back to him in order to create some semblance of conversation. Bless his heart, it must be really frustrating to want to say what is on your mind, but to not be able to find the right words or even be able to form them. I am trying my very hardest to remember what this must feel like from his perspective. Sometimes it is hard to be selfless when you find you are also struggling. How can you help someone else if you can't even help yourself? I've heard that said over and over and until this past year hadn't realized how true it was.

Fall is right around the corner. You can feel it in the air, see it in the store windows. And of course with football season here, you know it's in reach. I always find myself sleepier this time of year. I recall days since I was probably around 12 years old where I could sleep and sleep and still be tired. Almost like a bear in hibernation. But this year; this Fall; I am finding that through the sleepiness I am trying to turn a corner for myself and for my family so that we can get through the cold months and find ourselves reborn and rejuvenated next Spring. I think that's about how much time we'll need to totally get ourselves on track. But it's happening...I can feel it. I just have to keep the forward momentum going.

I'll leave you with a photo of my two boys this past weekend enjoying a swim.

Practice

There's no doubt about it. He is my and the other half's son for sure!

Hurricane Party

Hope all of my Texas friends are safe and dry through the night. Those of you closest to the storm, be sure to check in and let us know you're okay.

I leave you with a lengthy recording of a once upon a time, not quite as fat, really great, live band; straight out of New Orleans performing one of their classics, "Hurricane Party." Ladies and gentleman...COWBOY MOUTH!

Vicki Webber...can you please call your sister?

About two months ago we started receiving phone calls from a 'Stephen Dominion' in the 510 area code. My other half took the first call from a sad-sounding, older woman who thought that he was Vicki. He politely explained to her that she must have the wrong number to which she said, 'Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm just trying to reach my sister to tell her my husband died.'
Well, shit. What do you say to that?
He naturally told her he was very sorry about her dead husband, but yes, once again, there's no Vicki here.

Since that call we have probably received 10 calls from Vicki's sister, perhaps more. I think I have had the good fortune of answering them each time since that first. And each time she acts as though she has zero recollection of the last call. I am pretty sure she is drunk, though I'd feel really bad if it was something as awful as Alzheimer's.
Every single call goes pretty much the same way:

Me: (recognizing the phone number on the caller id) "Are you calling for Vicki?"
Her: (sounding very surprised that I know who she is calling, as though I have ESP) "Yes. Yes. Vicki? I'm calling for my sister, Vicki?"
Me: "Yes, I know you are calling for your sister, Vicki. You call us a lot asking for your sister and we keep telling you that we apparently have her old number."
Her: "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey. I was trying to reach my sister."
Me: "YES. I KNOW THAT."
Her: "It's just that I need to tell her my husband died."

And then the continuation from this evening's latest conversation:

Me: "Listen. I am truly sorry about your husband dying. And I am sorry that you are unable to reach your sister to tell her. But you have been calling us for two months now, telling us about your dead husband, and I tell you every single time that you have the wrong number."
Her: "Oh, no, honey. I haven't called for two months."
Me: "Yes, you have."
Her: "No, I haven't talked to my sister in over a year."

Me: (banging my head against a wall)

Her: "I guess I will have to call my aunt to get her new number."
Me: "Yes, I think that would be a very good idea."
Her: "Okay. Thank you, honey."

And I have no doubt in my mind that this will all occur again by next Monday. In fact, I am willing to put money on it.

Damn. It's a bad time to have gone private on this here blog. I mean, Vicki could have been reading and she would have the known to call her crazy-ass sister.

Oi. Vey.

To add to this, Vicki apparently does not want to be found by family or creditors. We also went through a three-week stint where Citibank called us EVERY FREAKING DAY with an automated message that our bank card had been overdrawn. These kinds of calls freak a family who had EVERY SINGLE ONE of their social security cards stolen by their movers (yes, you read that correctly). Especially when you call the phone number and not one single person has a freaking clue what you are talking about or how to stop the annoying calls from coming to your home. After many phone calls, transfers, and promises to fix things, someone finally figured it out and those phone calls have stopped.

But we'll still have Vicki's drunk sister. Thank the stars for that!