My Niece Lauren's High School Graduation Party

What a great weekend and all in your honor Lauren!


Why is my sister kissing HT? Well, she loves him, but it's not just that. You know HT doesn't swear, right? Well, Kelli has had a rough metamorphosing wonderful yet chock-full-o- nuts kind of year, and sometimes, every so often, when she really needs it, and only if she really needs it, he'll do Whitney Houston for her over the phone to lift her spirits.

So when they were posing for this photo, instead of saying, "Say Cheese!"

I said, "Kiss my a$$!"

And that prompted her to plant one on him.

How could she not?

We're a high brow bunch.

The graduation party was held at my niece's aunt Brenda's house (and Brenda just happens to be a friend of mine from college). Here is Brenda below on the left. I'd never been to her new house before. As I pulled up to find a spot to park, I thought, boy that looks like the house Patti just bought. Is that Patti's house? It was Patti's house. Patti lives just two houses from Brenda! Patti and I were nurses together in the mother/baby unit back when I first got out of nursing school. So of course I had to invite Patti over to the party and introduce her to Brenda and I know they will be instant BFF's and it makes me giddy with happiness. I took a picture to capture the day they first met.

When Kelli isn't kissing HT, she will pose for photos with her sister. I have some sort of orange fancy schmancy beer in my hand that Brenda gave me. It was tasty, but I didn't finish it. I never finish my beer. Once it gets warm, it's no good to me. Brenda should really be more discriminating in who she shares the good stuff with.

Another one of Kelli and I. In this one, I was merely whispering out of the corner of my mouth,"Bobby!"(another Whitney impersonation). I bet I could make her pee her pants if I really tried.

These are my mom's brothers. Joe on the left lives in San Diego. George on the right lives in New Hampshire. My Gramma would have been so happy to see everyone together.

Patti and yours truly. Who knew Patti would be such a big part of Lauren's party?

And here we have the thing that has me euphorically typing this post. Look at my girl on the left. She made friends with Brenda's little girl, and she jumped on this inflatable twister board all day, and she ran with a bunch of little kids for hours, like it was nothing. Like she always does this kind of thing. Like I don't have to talk to the bouncy castle operators everyplace we go, and beg them to let her have a turn with just Seth. As if she always just clicks in and makes a bunch of friends and runs with them and hangs out all day.

She played Twister and didn't have a meltdown when she fell or when she lost. She only had one little snit and that was when I interrupted her playing to force her to go inside to the bathroom. It was late afternoon and she hadn't gone since she woke up and I didn't want an accident to ruin all the fun she was having. She was furious at me for interrupting her and there was a small tantrumy moment on the way inside the house. When we got in the bathroom she stomped her foot, crossed her arms and glared at me,

"I want to still play with my friends," she humffed.

Her friends!!! Uh-oh. When we came out of the bathroom, the kids had come inside, and Twister appeared to be over. Would she lose it because the transition happened? Because I forced her to miss the end of the game? No. She went upstairs with the other kids and hung out in Brenda's little girl's bedroom. It was nerve wracking. The door was shut. There were a lot of kids in a small space. Seth was in there with them and I knew he'd come get us if she needed help, but still I hung out inside the house where I could hear them.

HT finally went in to check, and found her snuggled up on a beanbag with her new red headed BFF. They had decided that since both were cousins with Lauren, though not cousins themselves, they would call themselves, "Kinda cousins."

Can you stand it? I am so in love with both of them. Riley's kinda cousin has this big thick mop of bright red hair and the cutest freckles.

Anyway, lets move on because the sweetness described above has to be taken in small doses.

This is my brother Christopher and our mom. She lives in NC. He lives in the Endicott area. Johnson City if you want to be picky. If that means anything to you.

Here is Chris with his oldest daughter. Isn't she lovely? Aren't they both?

Here is my brother Donny whom I hadn't seen in forever! He is with his girlfriend Kristen whom I'd never met before.They've been dating two years and she is as sweet as they come. I was fifteen when Donny and his twin brother Timmy were born. Now they are 25. They both live in NC. Timmy sadly couldn't make the trip.

Do you think they appreciate still being called Don-eee and Tim-eee? I'd like to see them try and stop me. I could still take both of them with one hand tied behind my back.

So much more to share but I think this is a good place to stop. HT has just come home from Whole Foods and he's got chocolate. Now if you'll excuse me.

xo

The Graduate

Just got back from Endicott, NY where we attended a big party for my niece's high school graduation. She's going places, I tell ya. Brains, beauty, poise, charm, (hunky boyfriend) she's got it all!

More pics from the trip tomorrow.

Congratulations Ms. Lauren!

Interview With Skippyjon Jones Author Judith Schachner

You know how when I was in Philly, I met Judith Schachner, author of the Skippyjon Jones children's books? Well, I was thinkin', I should ask her for an interview, and then I was thinkin' even more, and I thought...you know what would be great? If I let Riley ask the questions. After all she's the one who loves the books so much. Well, Judith said yes, and Riley said yes and then Seth got involved and you know, I couldn't be left out, so here you go:

From Riley: (9 years old)

1) Is it true there will be a Skippyjon Jones movie?

We happen to be working on that right now so keep your fingers crossed!

2) Will you direct the movie?

No. I'm too busy writing more Skippyjon adventures.

3) Do you know a cat in real life who thinks he's a dog? Our cat Sam thinks he's a dog and chews everything.

Our cats retrieve like dogs do. And Chicopee attacks his sock monkey just like our dog Buster attacks his toys.

4) Have you written other books besides Skippyjon Jones books?

Oh yes. My favorite is Yo Vikings. My website has all my books on it. http://www.judithbyronschachner.com/

From Seth: (six years old)

5) Do you really have a cat named Skippyjon Jones?

Yes. Skippyjon lived with us for 9 years before he passed away. I've attached a picture of him when he was very young.

From Me: (40 years old)

1)What's the best part about writing children's books?

I get to be an 8 year old my whole life. I always made up stories and drew pictures when I was young and now I do it every day as an adult.

2) What advice would you give those who want to write books for children?

Read! Read! Read everything you can get your hands on. Reading will teach you everything you need to know about writing. Again, thank you!

Thank you Judith Schachner. We really appreciate it, and thank you for the picture of the young Skippyjon. You've made our day!

1958-2009

Todd called with the news. Seth and I were at Barnes & Noble this evening, in the kid's section. I hung up then took Seth over to the stage area, and we sat on a little bench. No one else was around.

"Seth, I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"Daddy just called and told me Michael Jackson died. It was on the news."

Seth's eyes welled up. He put his head on my shoulder and I held him quietly for a while.

When he looked up I said,

"So what does this mean? Where did he go?"

"To heaven," Seth said.

"That's right. Back to God. Back to the same energy he came from. There are some things you probably should know about Michael Jackson." Things I didn't want him to first hear on the news.

"Like what?"

"He was actually very sad."

"Why was he sad?"

"Well, he was put in the spotlight at a really young age, and a lot of people expected so much from him. There was so much pressure on him all the time. He had so much talent. He was a genius, but he couldn't leave his house without being swarmed by people. All the pressure finally made him act really strange. He tried to change what he looked like a lot. Did you ever notice in the earlier pictures of him he looked like a little black boy, but in later pictures he looked very different?"

"No. I didn't notice that," Seth said, still teary. Seth was a YouTube fan of Michael Jackson and really only knew him from the Bad, Beat It, Billie Jean era.

"But the thing is Seth, he's back to God now, just like you said. He is okay. He isn't suffering anymore. He isn't sad now. And the cool thing is...is how you, a little six year old boy could recognize his genius, and love his music like you do. And his music is forever."

We went to the music section and bought Seth his first Michael Jackson CD.

It was raining when we got outside and thunder and lightening accompained us all the way home. Seth was sad at first, but then I cranked the volume on Beat It,

"C'mon Seth! We're celebrating Michael Jackson's life!" I sang my little heart out.

Seth got on board and rocked the air guitar.

When we pulled into the driveway, I stopped the car and asked, "Are you still sad?"

"A little," he shrugged.

"It's okay to be sad, buddy."

I gave him a hug and in we went to show Daddy and Riley his new CD.

Happiness is...

Fresh coffee.
A gooey cinnamon bun.
Two hours home alone to enjoy them while reading all the blogs I want.

Bugs Must Have a Riot

If I were a small bug, I would climb up this flower, and then jump off to the right (stage left) and ride down that squiggly leaf like a slide. I really love that squiggly leaf. *photo from Niagra Falls. I heart you Canada.

Design

So Riley's been obsessed with Littlest Pet Shop toys for a few years now. She has quite a collection. While most kids her age are outgrowing them, she is still in love. She studies them, peering into their big eyed faces, memorizing the unique features of each little figure.

Yesterday we were talking about them and I'm always thinking about how we can parlay her interests into career options.

"You know Riley, someone has the job of designing LPS toys. Someone out there draws the plans, creates each new LPS character. There has to be someone to physically make the toys, but before all that, someone is designing them.

Her eyes lit up.

"If you think about it, everything was designed. Look at the TV over there. They are all similar, but each brand looks a little different."

She looked around the room.

"Someone designed that book shelf!" she said.

"Someone designed the fireplace," I said.

We searched the room, continuing to name objects, noting how someone must have had the vision of them before they came into being.

After a few minutes it was quiet, we were both thinking.

Then,

"God designed me," she said emphatically.

"I love how you are designed," I smiled.

"Thank you," she said sweetly.

Her arm tic went full throttle. Always when she is happily engaged. Stoked.

Own where you come from.

Know who you are.

Ever becoming.

A beautifully unfolding design.

New Definition of Depression

So I'm reading Marlee Matlin's book, I'll Scream Later, and in it she describes how her mother was sometimes depressed and to deal with it would go in her room and shut the door, and how isolating that felt as a child.

Damn! I go in my room and shut the door all the time. Am I damaging my kids? It's known in our house as "I have work to do," not "Mommy is depressed and needs to get the hell away from you," but still.

I sat my two down and told them a little about the book.

You know that lady Marlee on DWTS? The one who is deaf?" They both nodded, knowing exactly who I meant.

"Well, when she was little, her mom was sometimes depressed, do you know what depressed means?"

Riley and Seth looked at each other blankly, then Riley offered,

"Not impressed?"

Barely containing my laughter, I took my poll, asking if they ever feel sad when I shut the door.

Both said, "No."

"Are you sure?"

Both said, "Yes," looking at me quizzically.

Whew.

Because having a room of my own, with a door I can shut, really does help keep me impressed.

Father's Day

I'm gonna watch you shine

Gonna watch you grow

Gonna paint a sign

So you'll always know

As long as one and one is two

There could never be a father

Who loved his daughter

more than I love you

-Paul Simon

~~

When I was in Philly, Todd brought the kids to a park. Riley and Seth took up with a group of younger children who wanted to play tag. Here's the thing about little kids. They are the biggest bunch of cheatingest cheaters. They stay one foot from base, and any time the one who is "it" steps an inch toward them, they get back on base. Oh, and they change the rules so that everything is base, if need be.

They all do it. Except Riley.

Riley is a rule girl. By the book. She wouldn't dream of cheating which is why she is always "it." You can imagine how frustrating it is to be creamed at tag by a bunch of 4 and five and six year olds when you are nine and clearly not supposed to lose.

She had a huge meltdown, and they had to leave.

In the car Riley wailed,

"I AM SUCH A LOSER!"

"I'M TERRIBLE AT TAG!"

"I'M NO GOOD AT ANYTHING!"

"I'M SO STUPID!"

"THEY ARE ALL LITTLER THAN ME AND I AM SUPPOSED TO WIN!"

"IT'S NOT FAIR!"

"I SUCK AT EVERYTHING!"

On and on and on it went.

Todd tried to soothe her, but she couldn't hear him.

Finally, exasperated, he banned her from talking.

"RILEY STOP IT. NOT ANOTHER WORD! NO MORE TALKING!"

She tried to squeak out a couple more self directed insults but he was adamant.

"RILEY I MEAN IT, ZIP IT! NOW!"

She whimpered all the way home.

Later when they were both calm, he held her and spoke from his heart.

"Riley, when you say bad things about yourself, and put yourself down, it tears me up inside. If someone came up to Seth and called him a loser, I would never tolerate it. That is my son. I would put a stop to it immediately. If someone ever said anything bad about you, same thing. It would be unacceptable. I know how brilliant you are. I know how gifted you are in so many ways. I've known it since the first moment I saw you. The day you were born, you had a presence like no other baby in that nursery. You were wide-eyed and aware. Taking it all in. It was incredible. I know in my heart you are destined to do great things. Who cares if you aren't good at tag? All those kids were cheating! The only reason you weren't winning is you were the only one following the rules. I know it's confusing to you right now, but I cannot allow you to talk about yourself like that. You would never be so unkind to anyone else. I can't let you do it to you."

Riley snuggled in closer. Todd stroked her hair as they sat together quietly on the couch.

The day I returned from my trip, there was a Paul Simon special on PBS. We were having a ball, the four of us trying our best to copy the moves of the South African singers to Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes. The Father and Daughter song came on. It starts out slow, and since we don't have that CD, none of us had heard it before. Todd and I began dancing (think arms around each other's shoulders like in jr. high) but when the lyrics became evident, he excused himself to dance with a different partner.

Riley beamed, and as they twirled, he sang the words to her,

I'm gonna watch you shine

Gonna watch you grow

Gonna paint a sign

So you'll always know

As long as one and one is two

There could never be a father

Who loved his daughter

more than I love you

I sat on the step, marveling at them, my heart about to bust.

He loved me, but when I was a little girl, my father's own pain made it impossible for him to be a good dad.

Yet, things have a way of working out, and I did wind up getting the father I always wanted.

I married him.

Happy Father's Day Todd.

I love you.

It's okay, I'm with the band.

One week into music camp and I think we've created a monster. This is what we woke up to today, taped onto Riley's bedroom door. I hear my daughter has been playing a mean glockenspiel, using not one, not two, but three mallots.

I'll do my best to keep her grounded. In the meantime, what's a little meet & greet with the band worth to you? I know people, and could probably get you in.

Honorable Mention

We just got the official word. Riley received an honorable mention in the young playwrights contest she entered last year! There were hundreds of entries from all over Cleveland, most were students whose teachers made the contest an assignment (and no doubt edited the entries before submission).

Riley wrote every word of her entry herself.

The judges gave her feedback and one of them was quite impressed with her description of the character Mika in her play Growing Up, about a little bunny who feared leaving home, then wound up having a good experience at college. I posted it before, but in case you missed it:

In college, Diane met a friend named Mika. Mika was a mouse with skin the color of silver glass slippers. She had braids as blond as canaries. And bows the color of a purple sunset. Her braces were as blue as crystal clear water and her nose was as pink and rosie, as roses. Her lipstick was as red as apples, and her teeth were as white as the moon.

~~

We are as happy as smiley faces here, and so proud of our girl.

The Focus Wheel

So things get a little quiet around here whenever I bring up the subject of the nebulous swirl of wisdom and love that is Abraham. I get it. No worries.

I'll just pretend I'm writing only to myself for this one. It will reinforce what I learned at the workshop I attended last week. There was much to do about a tool called "the focus wheel." It stems from the concept: there is that which is wanted and its opposite. If you are feeling negative emotion and want to get out of it, identify the feeling, and then identify its opposite.

Put the opposite feeling or desire(the one you do want) in the middle of a page and draw a circle around it. Draw spokes off of it. In each section between spokes, write down reasons what you do want is possible. It takes you out of the negative loop and into a positive one. Here's the kicker. Sometimes if you are in the negative loop, you can't even fathom the positive. When that happens, find something else to do. Focus on something that makes you happy and then, when you are feeling better, go back to your focus wheel on the original subject. Don't force the focus wheel, you won't get very far with it.

For instant happy, I tend to think of Mother's Day, 2004 a couple of weeks after we started MB12 and the little smiling dancing thing that was Riley. Those big sparkling eyes! She was back from the depths of despair and I cannot think of a time I've ever felt happier. I also think of the day Seth's Martian Matter was delivered by UPS, and how he kangaroo bounced across the couch with glee. He'd earned it and it was a long time coming.

After you get to a "happy place," go back to your focus wheel and fill it in. What the exercise does is change your energy on the subject you want to turn around, making a more pleasing situation or outcome likely for you.

The focus wheel exercise is one of many in the best selling book Ask and It is Given. That book was my intro to the teachings of Abraham. If anyone is still reading this post and does want to know more, they might read that book, or they could watch the film The Secret Behind the Secret, which explains the much criticized lameness of The Secret as it was mass marketed. You may be able to rent it by now, I'm not sure.

Happy attracting. I wish you all your heart desires, and then some.

Love.

Dreams Do Come True

You'll never guess what I had the opportunity to do yesterday evening. I was weeding in the front yard, and who should be riding by?

Yes. She stopped and chatted and then she asked,

Would you like to try my bike?

Would I?

I hopped on that bad boy and rode down my street. I beeped the big fat ah-ooo-ga horn! I rang the little ting-a-ling bell! Ginger's bike has a big orange flag on top, and a bandanna flails in the wind for good measure.

How great is it her name is Ginger?

I feel a tiny bit guilty about leaving my children unattended in the yard in order to follow my dream, but when would I have this opportunity again? Besides, Ginger was right there watching them.

I want to be just like her when I grow up.

A Bit About My Trip

I'd gotten lost, wound up in a bad part of town. It got dark, then started to rain. A bridge had closed, leaving my Mapquest directions useless. By the time I called Julia for help, I was a half hour out in the wrong direction. Note to self, get a GPS.

The night was warm and the air smelled of sweet blossoms when I finally stepped out of the car at Julia's. Flute music lilted down from an upstairs window. I exhaled.

The next day, after a leisurely breakfast and an amazing living room yoga session led by Julia's cousin, Julia and I went running around. We stopped at the big organic farm her daughter and son-in-law operate. It feeds 250 families. We sat in the shade, at a big rock used as a table, tree stumps for stools, and spent time picking straw out of shorn sheep's wool. Later, it will be washed and Julia will spin it into incredible sweaters, etc. We talked and talked, the weather was gorgeous. The land, beautiful. Working the wool with our hands was relaxing and meditative.

The Camp Hill community which the farm is located on includes many adults who cannot live independently for one reason or another. Some have Down Syndrome, some have mental retardation, one has Asperger's, I'm not sure what all the diagnoses were but we ate lunch at a little cafe staffed by adults with disabilities and students from the local Waldorf school, and a couple of typical adults as well. The food was delicious.

Part of the compensation for running the farm is that Julia's grand kids get to attend the Waldorf school for free. It is a really beautiful and holistic way to be educated. We looked at The Waldorf School in Baltimore when we lived there. Riley would not have been able to handle it, or more like they couldn't handle her, but if they had the capacity for classroom aides, it is something I would love for my kids. No matter. Riley is in a good place, school wise and we don't have a Waldorf school here.

After, lunch, we did some more running around and by late afternoon I retired to the guest room at Julia's, the travel finally wearing me out! I lay down and rested my head.

Julia's cousins are staying with her a while. Julia is quite the citizen of the world and always has people staying with her a while. Her cousins spend half the year in China doing humanitarian work. They are delightful.

Julia turned 60 this year. She and her cousin are around the same age and both of them are in better physical condition than most 30 yr olds. Lithe and lean, vibrant and healthy. I marveled at them earlier, looking out the kitchen window as I washed my coffee cup in the sink. They were ethereal little fairies out in the garden, hovering over this, plucking that. Their mothers were sisters and I thought how happy they would be to see this beautiful scene unfolding before my eyes.

Anyway, as I drifted in and out of sleep that breezy afternoon, the flutes started. Julia and her cousin were practicing in the next room. Lifelong musicians, they attended music camp for adults last summer. Call it dozing. Call it meditation. Lying down in the afternoon listening to live flute music. Two flutes. It doesn't get much better than that.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed for the first time a painting on the wall opposite the bed. It was of a flute player. Then it occurred to me, the only person I had an in depth conversation with at the Abraham-Hicks workshop I attended two days prior, was a professional flutist. Hi Sato! So nice to have met you!

Are we sensing a theme?

What's with the flutes?

Anyone?

So, beautiful Julia and her beautiful cousin and her cousin's husband, wait let's pause and tell you a little about him: He's a psychologist, or psychiatrist or something mental health like that, and so what is he doing? He's working on the farm with the 20 year old kids, busting his hump all summer, because he really wants to learn organic farming. He wants to buy some land and to know what he's doing when he begins organic gardening in earnest.

In 2002 when I went to see Julia in St. Croix, I went out on a boat with people who live on the island. Little tiny kids climbed up a mast and jumped off the boat over and over into the deep blue water swimming along the coral reefs with the sting rays. That's just what they did on Saturday afternoons.

That's the take away every time I see Julia. There are so many different ways to live. On tropical islands, on organic farms. With a group of mentally challenged folks. In China, helping. It makes my life seem more like a choice. So many of us think we are glued to our circumstances, but we aren't. At any moment we can choose differently. We are more free than we think.

After Julia's it was off to the Philadelphia writing workshop.

Then it was home, where Seth took it upon himself to be dressed in Riley's old "I Love Mommy" shirt he outgrew two years ago. It was ridiculously small on him, but he was making a statement for my return.Where Riley sat on my lap on the couch and gazed happily into my eyes, and didn't ask if I brought her presents though the question seeped from her every pore. Where Todd took such good care of our kids and kept the place tidy, having the discretion to leave no trace of his taco rendezvous.

My life is a choice.

It is.

I've made a good one.

Amen.

Thank You.

One Brave Chick

I found this T-shirt for Riley while I was in Philly. She's wearing it today, her first day of music camp. The last month of school, a girl on the playground walked up to Riley and informed her that "people" were calling her cry baby.

We had a lengthy discussion about how, if those same people were living in a body with her neurological system, they'd probably cry a lot more than she does. We've been reinforcing that bravery doesn't mean not being scared, or never crying.

This shirt speaks to that, and I also loved it because her lovey is a Chickie.

I bet you know a brave chick or two. I know a lot of them.

I Feel Skippy

I'm here sipping coffee in my hotel room, half way back from Philly. I'll have a nice leisurely drive after a good night's rest. So much to tell you but for now, this... At the workshop I met Judith Schachner, the author of the Skippy Jon Jones children's book series. I was not in her workshop, because it coincided with the memoir workshop, but in between sessions I stopped in to tell her how much my kids love her books.

She recommended a couple of books for summer reading. One is Rascal, by Sterling North. It's a chapter book and I know nothing of what it's about but can't wait to look it up, because I had a dog named Rascal for a short time as a child and I loved him. The other was Blackstock's Collections, a book of lists and pictures drawn by an artist with autism. I know Riley will love it, because she just adores filing info into her super duper memory. One of her favorite past times is pouring over the encyclopedia of cat breeds, etc. The drawings in Blackstock's book are so incredibly detailed. Foster, can you take a break from your counting to check out these lists? Carrie, a book of lists? Your funk is over!

Judith Schachner was lovely. I only talked to her for two minutes in the hall, but she was so gracious, digging around in her luggage to get me the title of the Blackstock book and even taking a Skippy Jon Jones pin off her bag to give to Riley. She seemed like an artist who thoroughly enjoys life, and that, my friends is why Skippy is such a hit. Skippy is a joyful little thing.

So, I'm off for my continental breakfast, and a shower, and then I'll see ya home, okay? Gobs to tell you about the trip after I get settled, but the main thing is this:

Love.

See Ya When I See Ya

The kids had their final day of school last week. Riley's birthday party yesterday was a big success. Soon I'll be in the van, to and fro, off to day camp, horseback, karate, swimming. But there is a brief interlude, a week and a half before it all starts. What's a mother to do? What's a mother to do?

Get out of Dodge, baby!

Tomorrow I leave for five days of freedom. Philadelphia freedom! First I jaunt off to an Abraham Hicks day long workshop. Then to the home of the ever nurturing Julia, and after that, it's off to The Philadelphia Writer's Conference. I didn't even know about the conference 'til last week, but it presented itself, and I was going to be in town anyway, and there you have it. Things have a way of working out.

HT is looking forward to connecting with the kids. He'll also no doubt be making tacos. Every time I leave, he makes tacos. He won't explain. It seems he feels very taco deprived in my presence. But here's the thing. I like tacos. I might not think to make them, but I certainly would never begrudge him a taco. It seems this is something clandestine, between he and the taco, and I just have to learn to accept it. They don't need a third wheel. I get it.

Don't know if I'll be blogging, but I do know I'll be having fun. I'm going with no agenda and no guilt.

See ya when I see ya, and not a minute sooner.

Love.

John Robison on Asperger Women Association Radio

John Elder Robsion will be interviewed today at Asperger Women on Blogtalk Radio, 3PM eastern. It is a call in show, so call in! I'll make it easy for you, here's the number 347-637-1469.

I myself won't be able to phone in, because Riley's little b-day party is happening. While John shares his knowledge and wows them with his humor, I'll be decorating t-shirts and eating ice cream cake from Ben & Jerry's. Cookie dough on top, brownies in the middle, chocolate on the bottom. White frosting, in case anyone is interested.

But wait! The good news is, you can download it after the fact, which is exactly what I intend to do. I didn't even know there was an Asperger Women Association and I am excited to check it out. You can learn a lot from John Elder Robison, let me tell you.

Once last thing, I think you need to register with Blogtalk to participate in the conversation, or to download today's interview. It takes literally 30 seconds. You'll find the "register" link at the top of the page when you click on the Blogtalk link above.

Instead

It never fails. Every time HT calls from work, I am up to my ears busy in the middle of something. I'll have Seth in the shower. I'll be mixing up the supplements, or in the middle of trying to get a child to take them. I'll be on the last page of a book I've been reading to the kids. Or perhaps I'll be finally be sitting down for the first time all day to eat something.

Maybe sometimes I'm curt.

If he calls more than twice in one day, I answer "Hi Stalker, what do you want?" It's enough to make a guy feel unappreciated.

HT?

You could try feeling glad instead.

U.S. Autism & Asperger Assoc. Sibling Panel

Last night I was reading Diary of a Mom and Jess was discussing her reservations about the word "recovery" when it comes to her beautiful daughter's progress. I have no problem with the word. Some feel you are not accepting your child for who they are if you seek recovery, but for us it was a no brainer. Riley suffered. She screamed. Her behavior told us she needed help. It wasn't until recovery began that we could begin to even see who she really was. BTW, who she is? Heaven on earth!

Anyway, I'm not getting into it here. If you want to discuss it further, run on over to Jess' blog. However, when I was looking up a link I wanted to add to my comment over there, I lingered a bit. Hadn't been to Stan Kurtz's website in a while, and I happened upon this video. It is an hour long panel discussion featuring siblings of kids with autism.

Keri Bowers did a great job with her Sandwich Kid video, but other than that, not enough has been made of the sibs.

I've long held the belief that special needs siblings, have their own set of special needs. This video depicts their special hearts as well.

I want to give every one of them a thousand kisses, but it probably wouldn't be appropriate. Seth will barely let me give him 100, and even then he wipes them off.

Special needs sibs you have my heart. Always.

Thank you for the incredible gift you are.

To Riley on her ninth birthday...

My Dearest Riley,

Today you are nine. NINE! You have done amazing things this year. You soared through third grade, doing an incredible job academically. You began horse back riding. You became a true martial artist. You began learning to swim and bike ride. You ran a 5K with Girls On the Run. You bravely decided to share yourself with your new Circle of Friends. By letting these people get to know you, you are not only helping yourself, but helping the whole world. Your bravery has ripple effects that you will not ever know, but they will be there. People will be more kind. More understanding. More compassionate. More accepting, because of you. You are an amazing force, my sweet girl.

Words could never express my gratitude for all you have taught me since you were born. My love for you is the only thing strong enough to have caused me to look at things differently. Because of you I look at all things differently.

Because of you I am a much deeper, gentler, calmer, appreciative person. Because of you, I have been able to let go to a large degree my worries about what people think of me. Because of you, I came out of sleep and began to question. Because of you I have received answers. You are my light baby girl. Thank you for taking me through the fire, and gliding me through the sea.

My love for you stems from the Source that turns embryos into babies, clouds into rain, night into day, fear into love. You are an irrefutable sparkle in the eye of All That Is.

Your kindness, your pure heart, your intelligence, your gift for words and music, your innocence, your humor, your love for your family, your beauty, your dimple, your determination, your love of animals, all these are things I cherish about you.

You are a blessing. Happy ninth birthday my love.

xoxo

Forever,

Mommy

The Cupcakes are Made

Vanilla cupcakes with pink frosting, each topped with a single Hershey's Kiss. Check. Tomorrow is Riley's ninth birthday. It is also the last day of school. She's bringing the cupcakes to celebrate.

She read a book when she was four about a little girl who was having a birthday the next day. In the story, as the little girl slept, her mom left a small present on her pillow, and when she opened her eyes the morning of her birthday, there it was.

Riley was so charmed by this story, and she fully expects the pillow treatment each year. Thank God she somehow manages to mention it in passing just before her birthday, because I definitely would forget. Today she brought it up at breakfast. She hopes her pillow present is a t-shirt from her favorite store, Justice, and she hopes she'll get to wear it to school tomorrow for her party.

So I'm off to Justice.

See ya when I see ya.

Anyone want a cupcake?

I don't know who this girl is, but she has a lot to say

Bedtime Meditation

I just put my sweet babies to bed.

Lots of times what I do is tuck them in, then take a shower. The sound of the water is soothing and knowing Mommy is right there comforts them. Riley is usually out like a light, but sometimes Seth has a harder time getting to sleep.

After my shower, if he is still awake, I sometimes sit on the floor in the hall outside the kid's bedrooms, where he can see me, and do a meditation. Soft music plays and I just sit in my jammies, on some pillows, close my eyes and try to let my mind disappear into All That Is. I know many different meditation practices and I do whatever comes to me.

Tonight I went through Seth, then Riley, then Todd, breathing in whatever suffering they may be going through, and breathing out compassion. Three, four, maybe five breaths each. Breath after breath, family member after family member, slowly letting it all go. On and on. Breathing. I did it for myself too. Sometimes I go more global with it, but tonight I didn't. It's an ancient practice. It never fails to move me.

When I finally opened my eyes, Seth was sound asleep and I felt peaceful.

Sweet dreams little man.

God loves you.

Amen.