The Cello

We looked up "cello rental" on Google and off we went.

The first store was old and musty. They had just one kid sized cello. Riley sat on a chair to try it and the woman was abrupt.

"Move forward." she barked. "No, put your butt on the edge of this seat."

Her directives (and her tone) were confusing. Riley was trying to obey the requests, but getting agitated.

I don't know anything about cellos, but the fit didn't look right. It seemed to me, Riley's hand should be able to glide her bow across the strings evenly, not in a contorted position. It was like her arm wasn't long enough to handle this cello. Perhaps she needed a smaller size. The lady poo-pooed me. I obviously didn't know anything about cellos (and besides she didn't have any smaller sizes).

For good measure, a man came out from the back room, possibly her son. He rolled his eyes at me and stated, "She's big enough for that cello."

I told them we would look around and possibly come back, at which point she warned me that I didn't want to go to "such and such" store, down the road, because they charge a deposit.

We immediately headed toward "such and such." Riley cried, "But Mom! They charge a deposit!" She had no idea what that meant, but knew it didn't sound good.

I explained that charging a deposit guards the store against people damaging their instruments, or stealing them, or not paying their rental fees. Deposits might just mean the store really cares about its instruments. I think of the cello we just saw and the smiley face sticker someone had slapped onto the back of it.

"Also," I said, "It is unprofessional to badmouth your competition. It says much more about the first store than it does about the second one."

We went in and the second place was clean. The instruments gleamed. The service was impeccable. The man at the counter concluded Riley needed a size right in the middle of two sizes, and found a German 1/4 size just for her, whatever that means. They cleaned it up, and delivered it to our house that evening.

They charged a refundable deposit, and six dollars more than the other store per month, which we're willing to pay. At any point, we can put what we've paid to rent it, toward purchase.

If there is one thing I've learned from having a child on the autism spectrum it's to go with my intuition. If it doesn't feel right do not proceed. I could not get out of that first store fast enough.

Her first group lesson was today.

She insisted on no help from her father as she walked into school today because after all she is not a baby. He watched her with her heavy backpack, carrying that rented cello (worth 2K, BTW) up the stairs and then she turned the corner and was gone.

Tonight we couldn't get much out of her about the lesson other than "it went well," and "we plucked."

I'll take it.

This Just In...

When we sent Riley off to school this morning it didn't look good. She was scared about her speech, and not in a good mood overall. I wasn't sure if she'd stick around to give the speech or go careening out of the room to hide in the sensory room down the hall.

After I dropped her off I didn't hear a thing all day. It was torture!

At 2PM I picked up Seth on one side of the building, and then we swung around to meet Riley and HT on the other side. There she was in the parking lot, holding her hands together to keep her tic in check. The arm tic means she's happy.

Seth said, "She's not crying so it must have gone all right."

When I got up to her she looked in my eyes but didn't spill it.

"Well?" I asked. "Did you give your speech?"

She smiled big.

"Yes."

We high fived, both hands.

Long pause.

"And what happened?" I asked.

"I get to be the back up," she grinned.

Six candidates. She came in third. She technically isn't in student council, but she wasn't kicked to the curb. If one of the two elected candidates does something un student counsel worthy or decides to quit, she'll be up for election. 'Til then we don't have to do a thing. Best of both worlds if you ask me.

SHE RAN FOR STUDENT COUNCIL AND GAVE A SPEECH IN FRONT OF HER CLASS.

She's happy.

I'm over the moon proud.

I'm at Hopeful Parents Today

In a recent blog post, I wrote about how there were times I felt like I hated Riley when she was little.

Then I didn't sleep for three nights.

Will she read it one day and convince herself I didn't love her? Will she blame herself? Am I a horrible person for having those feelings to begin with? Is that something I should just keep secret? Will it hurt her? Will the "you shouldn't write about your kids" nazis get on my tookus?

Come read about how it all worked out over at Hopeful Parents.

Two Weeks!

Did you happen to see the doggie countdown over to the right? That's right, we're two weeks away!!!

Riley and I spent some time on the computer over the weekend, looking at the 4 Paws for Ability website. I told her the story of 4 Paws Founder Karen Shirk, and how a black German shepherd named Ben saved her life, and how she founded 4 Paws as a testament to how much he helped her when she was ill. I showed her the page about the children Karen has adopted from all over the world. We looked at pictures of the outside play structure and the training room at 4 Paws. We looked at pictures of other kids with their dogs.

We gazed longingly at all the dogs in training, wondering which one we'd be bringing home with us soon.

It was so fun enjoying it all and connecting this way. I asked if she had a guess as to which dog she will get and she said, "Maybe if they think I'm an amazing kid, they'll give me Stryker, because he looks just like Ben."

Squeezing her tight, I assured her they'll think she's an amazing kid, whichever dog she gets.

Then she asked,

"Mommy, will my dog make mistakes?"

If you've read this blog at all you know Riley has a huge problem with perfectionism, thinking she has to know things already (instead of learning them gradually). Many things do come very easily for her, but when things do not she can quickly fall apart.

I told her the dog would certainly make mistakes, just like everyone does.

It is going to be wonderful to see all the dogs in training. Maybe they will help Riley see learning as a process.

May they make a lot of mistakes.

Cake Wrecks

Man, I needed this today.

After having a crappy week, I saw the link for Cake Wrecks on The Pioneer Woman's site. My stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

This, or this, or this will give you the idea.

Go. Laugh.

Have a great weekend!

Anyone have any cake?

'Til Tuesday, and perhaps TMI

For those who may be wondering, Riley's speech was set for today, but she was home from school with severe constipation(one of the joys of our brand of autism). Her teacher and I communicated through e-mail, and she will be allowed to give her speech Tuesday, the day of the election.

Fortunately, the eagle has landed, and after a rough week, all things are rainbows and sunshine in the land of O'Neil.

Praise God.

Falafel Good Chips

This is not a paid review. Falafel Chips wouldn't know me if I bit them, (and I do bite them, often).
I love these chips with all my heart and soul. You can eat them plain and enjoy the salty goodness. You can eat them with hummus or any other dip. You can melt cheese over them and use them for nachos. You can be happy because they are free of genetically modified organisms. You can be happy because they are made in the USA. You can be happy because there are actual real live vegetables in them.

Nothing further. Talk amongst yourselves. Chomp, chomp, crunch,....

Too Damn Cute

Riley is refusing to wear her skorts. She's got three and they are all darling. With laundry a bit behind, and no clean clothes, I pressed the issue this morning.

"Why can't you wear one of these?" I said, pulling two skorts out of her drawer and jiggling them in her direction.

"I'm just too cute in those," she said earnestly.

What she meant was "baby-ish." Cutesy. Little kid cute. But the way she said it was too cute, and I didn't correct her.

Tomorrow I'll tell her, fill her in on the nuance.

Perhaps it is wrong of me, but I'm going to let her be "too cute" for one more day.

I Like What I See

On several occasions, while meditating, I have had a vision. I am walking into a "school of the arts" type place, and I hear music from down the hall. I recognize it as my daughter's music. I walk down a corridor, turn a corner and there she is, maybe 16. She sits solo, in a big room, back lit by sunlight, playing a cello.

She is breathtaking.

In the vision, Riley and I head toward home, we are in a white car. We drive up a small road, lined with tennis courts on the left. There is a group of boys, not really playing tennis, kind of hanging out pretending to play tennis, goofing around. We stop and I roll down my window. Seth is among this tribe of 13-14 year old kids and I ask if he wants a ride. He shakes his head, points to his bike. He'll be home by dinner. Okay.

Next, I'm preparing a salad in a lovely kitchen. We are getting ready for a family dinner, typical school night.

I don't know where this place is.

I know nothing of tennis.

I wish I had that kitchen!

I vowed to never push music on Riley again and have never suggested the cello.

I don't have a white car.

I do know this.

Ms. Riley came home last week with a form for the school orchestra.

She wants to join.

She thinks she'd like to try, the cello.

Homework Was a Bloodbath, Then We Turned it Around

I was tired.

She was tired.

A long day of school followed by Girls on the Run. I let them watch TV while I made dinner.

Homework started out okay. Seth at the dining room table, Riley in the kitchen. Always separate them because if she notices him finishing first, there is trouble.
~
Spelling was done, she'd moved to geometry. Checking her work, I noted she had written two mistakes in a "match the word with the meaning" exercise. She'd just flipped them. Easy fix.

She could not deal.

For twenty minutes she screamed and cried and hit herself in the head, and even bit her arm. For a mistake that could have been fixed in three seconds. She could not just erase it and move on.

"We'll skip it. Let's go back to geometry. Sorry I interrupted."

She could not skip it. And she could not move on. She'd entered a continuous loop of...

"It's too hard!"
"It's too much homework!"
"I am tired."
"I'm so lazy."

"Riley you are not lazy. You are overwhelmed," I said.

She'd rather DIE than leave her homework incomplete, but she just could not get it together. Looking at the clock, it was getting late. 25 minutes 'til bedtime.

Seth kept coming in to offer bits of,"She's making all that fuss over one little sheet?" And, "I'm glad she's not in my class." Not his usual Buddha. He was tired too. "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN SETH!" He ran off to work on a new Lego Todd's sister sent him for his birthday. Thank God for the distraction it gave him.

She started back with Geometry but the assignment wasn't clear cut. The answers don't scream out at you from the book. There is grey area and deciphering is required.

More screaming, screaming, screaming, and finally I lost it. I took her homework sheet, crumpled it up and shot it across the room.

Riley why is your homework wrinkled?
Why yes teacher, it's because my mother lost her shit and crumpled it up.

"RILEY UP TO YOUR ROOM NOW!"

I could feel myself shaking.

I am such a loser.
I have not come any further than when she was two.
I want to run away and never look back.
I am sick of it.
I could have handled it differently.
I didn't need to yell at her and crumple her work.
This is too hard.

As I walk up the stairs to the bathroom, she comes out of her room and meets me in the hall. Her face blotchy and red.

"Mommy you need to calm me down," she begs.

Anger wells in me.

"I can't calm you down Riley. You have to calm you down."

"But can we do a meditation?" she asks through her crying hiccups.

My heart softens.

We go into the bedroom. I light a candle, turn out the lights and shut the door. We lie side by side on the king size bed and I begin.

Let's tense our toes. Squeeze them, squeeze them. Now with a big exhale, let them go.

Now our ankles and our whole feet. Tense them, really tight. Breath out and let them go.

Tense the calves all the way up to the kneecaps. Squeeze, squeeze.....now let them go with a big breath..........

Next are the thighs, tense those muscles, really really hard.......now breathe out and let them go.........

Both of us are doing the exercise with all we've got. I can hear her big exhales.

Now your butt. Let's tense our butts Riley. Squeeze! Hold it! Now let it go. Breathe........

Now our bellies. Tense every muscle in our bellies.

Breathe.

Let it go........

Our chests. Squeeze.

Breathe.

Let it go..........

Our shoulders.

Breathe.

Let them go.........

Our necks.

Breathe.

Let it go...........

Our arms, all the way down to our fingers.

Breathe.

Let them go..........

Our faces.

Breathe.

Our eyes. Squeeze them tight.

Breathe.

Let them go...........

Our heads.

Breathe.

Let it go............

Now the whole body.

Squeeze.

Breathe.

Let it go...........

Now as we lay here, we're going to leave this Riley and this mommy, and we're going to float way into the sky. And we're going to look down at this Riley and this mommy, and we're going to smile, because we know how much they love each other.

Riley reaches for my hand.

Floating way above the earth, we can see from this perspective, how this one bad homework night isn't all that important. It's even kind of silly from up here.

Way, up, up above the clouds, we hold hands and float along, feeling how much love we have for each other. We are weightless, and worry-less. Floating, floating...........

And now we look down at that Riley and that mommy, and we see them at the kitchen table. Finishing the homework with no problem. It's easier than it seemed.

Breathing, breathing, we visualize the scene.

After a while....

And now, we are back on this bed, our hearts filled with love for each other.

We are breathing..........

We are calm.

We lay there in the candlelight.

"Namaste' Riley."
"Namaste' Mommy."

"Riley that was such a good idea. So great you knew what we needed and suggested a meditation."

She threw her arm over my chest and hugged me.

Back downstairs, the rest of her homework took roughly ten minutes.

After tucking them in, I spend the evening wondering why my bag of tricks went flying out the window. Why couldn't I think in the moment? How did I get so far gone? Who crumples up their kid's homework? Seriously?

Breathe........

Breathe..........

Focus on the turn around we made.

Look at what we do want, not at what we don't.

Breathe.....

Let it go......

Let it go.

Gearing Up for the Election

She's practicing her speech. Nose pressed to the paper she holds in her hands,

"My name is Riley O'Neil and I am smart, kind, sensitive and brave."

Halfway through, I suggest, "Move the paper down so we can see your face."

She moves the paper down.

She starts again.

"My name is Riley O'Neil and I am smart, kind, sensitive and brave. I would be a good student council member because...."

"Riley, projection. We can't hear you!"

Todd, Seth and myself sit on the couch, pretending we're her classmates.

A couple of tries later, I introduce the concept of eye contact while giving speeches. I suggest she look up at the end of each sentence. Look at a person, an object or a mark on the wall.

She wigs out.

She reads the speech loudly, making ridiculously exaggerated eye contact. Think along the lines of this:
"I'M RILEY O'NEIL AND THE ISSUES THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME ARE HEALTHY FOOD AND RESPECTING OTHERS!"

If she were versed in FU, each "eye contact" would be punctuated with one.

The first round is her own classroom. If she makes that, she'll go on to compete against the winners of the two other fourth grade classrooms.

I'm so proud of her for trying.

It's going to be an interesting week.

The Best Part is She Can Give Them Back When She's Done

Last week, our friends Kathleen and Chuck were visiting from Albuquerque. That's Kathleen on the left, and Chuck on the far right. In the middle are Kerry and Stan, (Kathleen's sister and brother-in-law). Kerry and Stan's adorable four year old daughter was a flower girl in a Cleveland wedding last weekend, so Kathleen and Chuck decided to fly in, see them while they were in town, and then visit us.

~

We had such a nice time, going for walks, eating, walking eating, you get the idea. Kathleen is from upstate NY; we went to high school together and lived together in DC just after college. Chuck is from New Mexico and was awed by all the green here in Cleveland. While here, Kathleen went to Girls on the Run with us.

Lo and behold, I got an e-mail from her yesterday, stating she and another woman are thinking of starting a Girls on the Run group in Albuquerque! Kathleen does not have kids, she knew she didn't want them and refused to conform to other people's opinions about what makes a life, but no one said she hated kids.

The stats on Albuquerque schools are abysmal. Something like a zero literacy rate for graduating kindergartners. Something like 58% graduate from high school. Kids there need role models and adults who care about them! I was so happy she's thinking of doing this and relayed the news to HT.

"Riley strikes again," he said, smiling.

Happy Birthday Hot Stuff!

IT'S MY SISTER KELLI'S BIRTHDAY TODAY.

I LOVE HER.

AMEN.

Needs No Editing

My daughter wants to run for student council.

She mentioned it last week, brought home a form to fill out about it. I told her we'd work on it over the weekend. Came home today from a wonderful visit with Clarissa to find it's all done.

"Mom, can you help me edit this?" she asked.

She had to list four things about herself. This was what she came up with:

1) smart
2) sensitive
3) kind
4) brave

Her platform will be one of healthy food, and treating others with respect. Of course fund raising for field trips and parties will be of utmost importance.

She has to give a speech to her class on Tuesday, stating all of the above.

My daughter wants to run for student council.

Insert breath.

If she's going to be brave about this, so am I.

Hitting the Road

I'm off today to an overnight slumber party with Clarissa! She lives in the DC area, so we're meeting halfway in West Virginia. Food, wine, and tons of gabbing. So excited to see her.

For the first time ever, Riley was a little clingy to me last night and said she would miss me.

Seth asked if there were any toy stores in West Virginia, and might I hook him up with a new Lego?

Todd said, "Go have fun with your friend and come back safe to me."

In one hour I pull out of the driveway.

I feel so blessed.

Can't Stop the Singing

Seth came home sad because the teacher told him if he kept singing, he was going to get a time-out. A time-out means you have to go to your desk and put your head down.

Seth sings all the time. A sweet little soprano hum, underneath whatever he is working on at the time. If he's drawing, if he's writing, if he's building with Legos, the song is always there.

But at school, Seth's song can be distracting to other students.

"I can't help it Mommy. I forget," he said.

He hung his head, furrowed his brow.

Part of me wanted to yank him out immediately, put him in a school for the arts where his song would be celebrated! He's such a good kid! He's never had a time-out in his life!

But Seth has a wonderful teacher, and he can't disrupt the other students, and he did decide to come here and live in this world where accommodations for others must be made.

"So here's the deal Seth. If you forget, and if you get a time-out, you will never be in trouble at home. You go to your desk, put your head down, do a little meditation, and tell yourself over and over, I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. Okay?"

"Can I meditate about Legos?"

"Absolutely. Whatever brings you joy."

"Okay Mommy."

"You're the best boy," I said.

"You're the best mom," he said.

Well then, I guess that's that.

Everyone, Meet Louise Frechette.

When I was in my darkest hour with Riley, I reached out to a woman who was writing a column for a newsletter called The Holy Encounter. This woman had experience running a day care using the principles of A Course in Miracles. In a nutshell, those principles are, if it doesn't look like love it must be fear. Period.

Louise didn't know me at all, but answered my e-mail and gave me her phone number. We were desperate. Riley was two and screaming non-stop. Seth was a baby. None of us had slept in months. I was having panic attacks. It was taking its toll on Todd. I feared I might just lose it, really lose it on her one day. I felt my life was over. I sometimes hated my child. There was so much despair in our house.

Louise talked to me several times, for hours. Her kind, firm, loving presence got me on the right track.

-This can be a spiritual journey.

-Things aren't always what they appear.

-Her behavior is trying to tell you something.

-She is not trying to make your life hell.

-If it doesn't look like love it must be fear.

-She is afraid and needs compassion.

-When I am out of control, and angry, I am afraid and need compassion.

Louise referred me to the Son Rise books, which led us to our weekend at The Option Institute, which led us to see Raun Kaufman speak, which gave us hope things could change, which led us to try DAN! doctor Elizabeth Mumper who recommended methylated B-12 shots, which Riley was a great responder to, and on and on we've gone, ever expanding since.

Louise got us unstuck.

She helped me to see things differently and told me even if I can't see things differently, to ask God for the willingness. Just that much would be enough.

I'm welling up just thinking about how much she helped us.

Louise Frechette has since become a life coach. Of course she has!

Her new webpage offers a wealth of information and she is also starting a 4 week teleclass series next week, focusing on practical and soulful solutions for raising emotionally and spiritually aware children. The introductory class is free. Click here for details. I plan on taking part in the Wednesday daytime class.

Thank you Louise. From the bottom of my willing little heart, I thank you.

Love.

Time to Sing!

Windsong Chorus started rehearsing today and it was so good to be back with the group for my second season. Due to lack of planning I had to bring the kids and set them up in an adjoining room with snacks galore and a portable DVD player. They had to share ear buds, holding them to one ear each. Those two little darlings didn't require a thing of me the whole two hours. Not a peep. They watched Cars for the 27 millionth time. Who has the best kids? I do.

The music this season is so good. Almost every song has me choked up. I seriously have to concentrate on not crying. The selections just resonate with me so much. The words. The melodies. The harmonies. First day and it already sounded so beautiful.

One of the songs is I Ain't Afraid, and I found it tonight on You Tube, performed by Holly Near, the woman who wrote it.

Many paths, one Source. My path isn't better than your path. I believe God is love. Only love. Amen.

Seth's Ripples

Since August 20th when we went to see the doctor of Chinese medicine regarding Seth's PANDAS we have learned so much about GMO's, and have gone completely organic.

Thanks to Seth, the health of our whole family will be improved.

But wait! There's more.

I've had the opportunity to educate the teachers at school and they have been very interested and gracious and understanding.

One educator who was the notorious and beloved candy giver to all children, has decided to change to healthy snacks for the kids.

Our Girls on the Run chapter will be eating GMO-free snacks this year.

Seth is loving the food, and hasn't balked once.

"This is even better than the other kind Mommy!"
"Thank you for my food Mommy!"
"Thank you for cooking this for me Mommy!"

Seth is a powerful teacher, getting healthier all the time. He is a joy.

Go Seth!

You incredible boy.

Thank you.

How to Help a Child With Autism

First, love them. Then consider...

How To Help a Child With Autism on Howcast

Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Love.

Happy Mommy

I love the public school my kids attend.

Amen.

Curriculum night went well. One year ago I would have skipped it because HT had to work, and I couldn't exactly have left Riley in the childcare in the gym with all those kids.

Tonight I did exactly leave her there; Seth too. They had a ball! I got to talk to the teachers, and they are wonderful. Totally committed. Wanting to learn. Open minded and open hearted. Both kids scored with great teachers this year!

Girls on the Run starts Monday and I'm going to be a coach. Stay tuned.

Have a great weekend!

Love.

Yes, you.

You matter. You are important, and visible, and worthy of all good things.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

The Day Obama Talked to the Kids

The night before last, the school principle left an automated message informing parents the kids would be hearing President Obama's address to the nation's children the next day at school. If parents had objections they could opt to keep their kids out of the assembly. Note to self: God loves the ignorant, the racist, the shameful, the fearful who feel separated from Who They Really Are, and the people who judge them. Amen.

Anyway, yesterday was the address. For Riley, the change in routine meant lunch and recess time was spent in the classroom, no mid-day swinging/calming. Later in math which itself is often a trigger, a new skill (note taking) was introduced. With note taking, there is pressure to keep up. When Riley feels rushed, the anxiety is unbearable for her. When the teacher asked her a question she didn't know the answer to, she bolted from the classroom and ran down the hall crying. Fight or flight. The meltdown that ensued was a biggie.

On our walk home, we talked about it.

"I didn't want everyone to think I was a baby because I didn't know the answer," she said.

She has no understanding of them perhaps thinking she's a baby for running from the class screaming and crying.

Seth replied, "Didn't you hear Barack? He said askin' questions doesn't mean you're not smart. He said it's part a learnin."

Yes, he called him Barack, and, he got the message. If only we could convince his sister.

~
By the time we got home Riley was completely spent. Two hours 'til Tae Kwon Do. We got homework done with some crying. Her, not me. She and Seth chilled in front of Sponge Bob. I let them have a snack on TV trays. She needed to go elsewhere. Bikini Bottom was just the place.

Looking at the clock, I saw we had 20 minutes to get the kids dressed in their uniforms, and out the door if we were going to make it to martial arts by 5:30. We pay a lot of money for therapeutic martial arts. I hate for them to miss it. I looked at Riley's blotchy face staring at the TV, and thought, she's not ready.

Voices of the others, started to heckle me.

"You're wasting your money."

"You're letting her get away with something."

"She has to stick it out."

"You're teaching her to be a quitter."

BACK OFF! I AM THE MOTHER. I DECIDE.

I asked myself, what is best for this child in this moment?

I thought of how beautifully Lydia described the need for recovery time after a hard day.

We skipped martial arts.

Seth and Riley played outside after dinner. By 6:30, she was okay. They were all rough and tumble with big bouncy exercise balls (formerly used for floor time) in the front yard. Riding their scooters up and down the sidewalk. Running joyfully with the neighbor's five year old.

The sky darkened behind the house, but the sun lit up the clouds in front.

She got to see her rainbow.

Riley and Seth and our little neighbor friend shrieked and jumped for joy! They tossed cut grass clippings into the air in celebration, like confetti. They squealed and danced at the site of the rainbow over our house. Tomorrow is a new day.

"Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future."

-President Barack Obama

Cowboy and Wills

Author Monica Holloway and I have never actually met, but when I was working on my memoir, writer friends who knew her insisted I read her book, Driving With Dead People,

"You have to read Monica's book!"

"You have to meet Monica!" they said.

We both had difficult childhoods. We both have a child on the autism spectrum. Eventually we were introduced on-line. She generously offered to read my manuscript. Months later I took her up on it. She read it and gave me wonderful feedback and valuable advice.

So while we have not met each other physically it feels like we have. We've read each other's stories. She made a generous donation toward Riley's dog, which is a subject near and dear to her heart. Monica's new book is about her son Wills, and how a Golden Retriever named Cowboy changed his young life. Cowboy and Wills is coming out in October, the same month Riley gets her service dog. Kismet?

If you can watch the video promo for Cowboy & Wills, and not get misty, seek professional help. Seriously.

Congrats on your new book Monica. Here's to new beginnings!

I'm tipping a glass of organic wine in your honor.

Big love to you.

XO

Why Did The Chicken Stop Eating Its Food?

Because its blessed inner guidance system told him it was being effed with.

Read about it here.

It's no joke.

Spa Day

The boys were having one-on-one today, and the girls were staying home.

"What should we do Riley?" I asked.

With twinkling eyes she looked at me, then whispered in my ear, "Can we go to a spa?" She'd never before made such a request.

"Well, Love. It's Sunday. Spas aren't going to be open today, but we could play spa here. Would that be okay?"

She grinned.

So, off to Whole Foods for an avocado, some rose petal laden sea salts and mud bath supplies.

Riley mashed the avocado with the mortar and pestle we use for supplements, while I got things ready.

First, we deep conditioned our hair, then put plastic bags on the tops of our heads to trap in our natural body heat thus locking in the conditioner. While our hair cooked, we did our avocado/coconut oil facials. She wanted this so badly, and let me do it, though she flinched every time I touched her face with the goo. The sensory stuff is still there, but she is able to deal with it. Used to be, she'd run screaming if someone had so much as a crumb on their chin at dinner.

Once the goo was on, I massaged her face lightly with my fingertips and audibly let out my own breath, which prompts her to let out hers. Soothing meditative music played in the background.

She insisted on cucumbers for the eyes. Of course! What kind of lame salon would this be without them?

After avocados and cucumbers, it was time for a mud bath.

Mud all over her body and face, and she loved it! We let the mud dry, and then put her in a bubble bath with rose petal sea salts. Oh how the mud just lifted right off of her.

A quick shower and it was onto manis and pedis. She opted for solid green toes and multi colored fingers.

She picked my color and did my nails, practicing for the day she'll be able to do her own.

The boys are home now. They played mini-golf and went to a park.

HT is transfixed by my beauty. Maybe it's the smell of my deeply conditioned hair. Perhaps it's my neon green fingernails. Maybe I'm glowing from all the avocado and mud. He can hardly keep his hands off of me.

We won't tell him how I got this way. It'll be our little secret.

A lady likes to leave some mystery.

Skunk Update

In the dark of night I carried out the plan. Two times. Three days apart. Full 24 hour collection both times. I'm nothing if not thorough.

The skunks have left town. Haven't had a whiff of them since.

Didn't even need to use the fox pee.

Apparently, mine is plenty strong enough.

Just keeping you in the loop.

Lovingly yours,

MO'N

My Father Built Us an Amazing Swing

We had a giant weeping willow tree in our back yard, the branches were easily fifty feet high. My dad was a tree man, he cut down trees for a living. He made us a swing out of a big tire. He cut the tire to make a seat, with big round handles. Thick ropes held the swing to the branch. You could sit on it, or stand, hooking your feet into the handles. The swing was far enough out on a strong branch- you could stand and swing sideways and never smack into the tree. It felt a bit like a trapeze would feel, I'd imagine.

My sister's partying friends would come over and spin each other on that swing, torquing it round and around too high, and then letting go. Troy Erney got the blood vessels in his eyes broken that way, spinning around too fast. It was gross.

Every spring, our yard would flood. We'd have to wade out to the swing, and then once on, we'd fly high over the water.

I would swing and swing until I felt calmer. When I started to feel sick it would be time to get off of it.

Hours of my childhood spent swinging.

Swinging helps Riley so much.

I wish I had a swing like that for my kids.

Someone Who is Seven

There is a person in our house who is seven today. This guy, every time you tell him, "You're the best boy in the whole world," never fails to respond with, "You're the best mom."

He loves to hold doors for people, and hear them call him "a little gentleman."

He sings all day long, under his breath, constant gentle melodies.

He is super excited about his sister's service dog and has never expressed one second of jealousy around it.

He is Lego obsessed and a master at building with them.

He is physically, breathtakingly beautiful (just like your children).

He has strong little boy legs that for some reason remind me of Christopher Robin.

He has fine white blond hair on his forearms.

He some days walks around with a sign he made taped to his back that says, "I love my family and Legos."

He speaks with authority on all subjects, including (and especially) subjects he knows nothing about.

He hasn't a mean bone in his body. Not one. Not even a tiny little minuscule bone like those inside the ear.

Over a decade ago, I dreamt of a little blond haired boy, running joyously on the beach. I woke with such love in my heart and shared the dream with Todd.

"I loved him so much, as if he were my child! But it couldn't have been our baby. He had blond hair," I said as we lay in bed, leisurely talking. Pre-kids. I had dirty blond hair for a short while as a child but we're both brunettes.

Thank you little man, for that visit. And thank you for being the leader in joy for our family. We could not ask for a better son, and we are so proud of who you are.

Happy Birthday my love.

Enjoy being seven.

Everything Had Been Going So Well

Two days in.

We walk to school, and try to time it just right so there isn't a lot of hanging around outside, thinking of things to worry about.

Today we rounded the corner of the school as the bell rang. We were twenty yards from her line, but they had already started moving into the school, without her. She could have easily caught up with the rest of her fourth grade class, but instead she panicked, and ran in the opposite direction, back down the street, screaming and crying. She stopped, looked back in the direction of the school and began stomping and spinning in circles shrieking,

"I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!" her backpack, thumping against her back with each stomp.

I caught up with her, took her hand and headed back toward the school. Another class was still lined up outside and they all watched Riley.

One of Riley's biggest fears right now is of everyone staring at her. I no longer give a damn what other people think when she melts, but she does. She does not want to be "different." I don't know if I did the right thing but I took her shoulders gently and told her calmly,

"Riley. Right now you are calling a lot of attention to yourself. Is this what you want to be doing?"

She cried, "NO!"

Did I make her feel worse? She was already so upset. She's already out of control in moments like this. Does pointing out what she's doing just heap more pressure onto her or is it valuable information? Is giving a rip what anyone else thinks the message I want to reinforce?

One of the educators who knows Riley came over and started talking to her.

"I'm sorry Riley, I started your class in just little early today."

I placed Riley's hand in hers and said,

"You'll be okay Riley. I know you will. Ms. _ will take you up to your class. I love you."

Hunched over and crying, Riley walked in with Ms. _.

I walked away from them toward home.


She'd had such a good morning.

If we had just walked out of the house one minute sooner.

If the teachers hadn't started the students in 30 seconds before the bell rang.

What's at the bottom of Riley's fear of being late, or left behind? Why is it such a big deal?

Is it my fault for always rushing them out of the house with, "We'll be late!"

How would I ever get them out of the house otherwise. We will be late. They putter so.

Will the dog make a difference?

How can I help this child?

I went about my morning. Lots of errands. Dishes. Phone calls needed to be made,etc.

By 12:30 I was exhausted, despite getting a good night's sleep.

I laid down on the twin bed in my office and allowed myself to rest. Head on pillow I told myself over and over,

"It's okay to rest."
"It's okay to rest."
"It's okay to rest."

Things have a way of working out. I don't need to know everything. I don't need to always get it right. Everything is okay. We're all okay.

Amen.

I Love Her and Everything About Her

Todd found Riley in the bathroom yesterday, crying. When he asked what was wrong, she showed him her hands. She'd tried to paint her nails by herself, and it was a total mess.

I heard the ruckus, and went in and told her she needs to ask before doing something (that could stain my walls and floors) like that. I'd be glad to help her, but she needs to ask first. Then I walked out.

Todd stayed. He asked.

"Sweetie, why didn't you ask for help?"

This is what she said,

"Because when someone says Riley, your nails are so pretty; who did them for you? I wanted to be able to say, I did. "

First Day of School

Uneventful.

Can I get a witness?




*Photo doug88888's photostream Flickr.

If You're Not a Dog Person, Don't Bother Clicking On This Video

I sent the video above to Carrie, specifically because she's not a dog person. Unbeknown to me, although she's not a dog person, she was generously dog-sitting her in-law's litter yipper, while her husband had split town for a vacation, leaving her not only with a dog, but the kids.

The day she received this video in an e-mail from me, the dog had peed where Carrie sleeps.

One day, well into the school year, she'll laugh about it.

I know she will.