My brown thumb

I used to kill houseplants at a ridiculous pace.  I would always forget to water them.  My mom couldn't believe that was possible.  Her advice?  "Just water them each week when you clean."  Um, Mom, that might be the problem.  I don't clean every week!

Fast forward several years and I got a PDA.  Dang, that was the best thing ever invented.  Now I had something that flashed at me every 5 days reminding me to check my poor plants.  Wonderful.  I started doing better.  Not good, mind you, but better.  Of course that morphed into an app on my phone, but it still comes up on my to-do list every 5 days and I ended up with a handful of plants that actually looked OK.

Outside is another story.  I've always hated the heat so even if I put something on my to-do list every other day, I'm sure I would find some excuse not to water.  Luckily DH is phenomenal (anal retentive?) about that and keeps our outside plants looking attractive.

Last year I got smart and decided to make a miniature garden/greenhouse.  Those flowers always look fantastic and I NEVER have to water them!  Win-win!

But I was so excited by my garden window when we redid the kitchen.  It was gorgeous and plenty large enough to keep a wide assortment of plants close at hand so I could remember to water them.  I decided to give houseplants another go.  I even foolishly got a seed starter kit for herbs.  After a few weeks this is what I had growing.

Wow.  Talk about dismal.  (Oh and check out the poor daisy behind the herbs ... deader than the proverbial door nail!)

So I did what any self respecting home owner would do.  I went out and bought replacement herbs.  Hey, at least they look healthy now.

 

OK, I might have cheated a bit and bought a few other plants as well. 

 

The garden window looks great and there will be a few spares when they start getting neglected.

Maybe I should stick to miniature flowers.  I can't kill those!

Our monsoon

Everyone has heard the expression "It never rains, but it pours."  Last week, we had a figurative monsoon.

Monday (St. Patrick's Day) was the day we started ripping out our kitchen.  Yay!  We've been looking forward to this for months -- or in my case, years!

So the weekend before was supposed to be a double camp weekend for the boyz.  This was going to be perfect.  We could move the kitchen table, etc. into the dining room and buy some last minute kitchen things we've been wanting to shop for together (new chairs, dishes, faucet, etc.) while we had the house to ourselves.  We were also going to go over to my parents for a belated birthday celebration (remember it snowed then) as well as St. Pat's dinner.  My mom loves to host things and it just doesn't work at her house with Alan so this was going to be a wonderful relaxing, ADULT weekend.

Friday afternoon

Friday morning Alan gets up to go to school and five minutes before the bus is scheduled to come has explosive diarrhea.  Now with Alan, this could mean he is sick or it could mean he got too much dairy in the previous few days (he's lactose intolerant).  I kept him home to be safe and he seemed a little sluggish at first but by early afternoon he was back to his typical self.  I told myself we had just finished off some Cookies & Cream Pop-tarts and went ahead and packed for camp.

When I dropped him off, I told his buddy what had happened (I don't believe in trying to sneak something like that by them).  I knew that Alan technically should not be at camp (it had been less than 24 hours since he had diarrhea) but he didn't SEEM sick.  In fact, he heard me say "camp" earlier in the day and repeated it several times which is usually a positive thing.  He doesn't say "yes", he just repeats the words if that is what he wants.

DH and I grabbed a late dinner Friday night and watched a movie.  I talked to the nurse at camp Saturday morning (about something different) and she said Alan was doing fine -- eating breakfast, etc.  It seemed like the crisis had been averted.  We ran errands, had some beer to celebrate St. Pat's and went over to my parents' house.  About a half hour after we got there, I got a call from the director of camp to say that Alan was just lying around and he hadn't eaten any lunch or dinner.  Great.

So we went to pick him up early.  He still didn't seem "sick", but he wasn't exactly "right" either.  Shortly after we got home, I got sick.  I didn't have any of the really nasty stuff, I was just weak, shaky and NOT hungry (all I ate all day Sunday was a granola bar).  Then Sunday night on the way home from camp, Joe puked all over his car while driving.  My sainted hubby cleaned that up while Joe and I slept.  Luckily by then Alan seemed back to normal.

Monday morning I struggled to vertical long enough to let the contractor in and drive Alan to day camp (it was his spring break but I had signed him up for a day camp knowing this was close to kitchen time) and then came home and slept some more. 

By Monday afternoon I felt better.  When I picked Alan up, one of the staff stopped me to tell me about the college option for Joe.  We got the paperwork on Tuesday, had the tour on Wednesday, filled out the paperwork on Thursday and submitted it on Friday.

Joe was FANTASTIC about filling out most of the paperwork himself.

Meanwhile, the kitchen went from this ...

to this ...

to this ...

I'm exhausted just writing all this, so hopefully you have a sense of our monsoon from last week.  At least this week is calling for calmer weather ... and the installation of new cabinets!

On the bright side ...

Joe starts every other sentence with "Well on the bright side ..."  OK, not really, but he does say it a dozen or so times a day.
 
I once said that if Joe were asked if the glass was half full or half empty his response would probably be "At least you have a glass."

When he found out that he couldn't participate in an event he was excited about until he turns 21, his comment was "Well, on the bright side, I will get to do it in 2.5 years."

When his aunt's favorite cat ran away he told her, "Well at least you have another cat."

After finding out he can't have popcorn for 2 weeks after getting his wisdom teeth out, he says, "Well at least I won't ever have to have my wisdom teeth out again."

When he had to leave camp early because he got sick, he told me, "Well at least I got to stay for most of the weekend."

When he got a wrong number phone call he told the caller, "Thanks for trying."

In the process, he has turned me into "Happy Heidi".  

When a friend posted on Facebook about her daughter hitting the mailbox her first time driving by herself, my response was, "At least it wasn't a person."

When another friend was complaining about the heat last summer (and I am NOT fond of summer) my response was "At least it isn't as bad as last summer."

When someone was complaining about the endless snow and snow days ... oh wait, that was me, never mind.

When did I become such a Pollyanna?!?!?!  

Well on the bright side, I have great company!

"You mean that happy child?"

Anyone who has watch the original Toy Story movie more than once (as most parents can claim) will get the title reference, but in case you live in a bubble, have girls or have just gone several years without seeing the fabulous, first Disney-Pixar collaboration, I will explain.

There is a scene where Sid, the horrible middle school boy next door, is plotting to blow up one of his toys and he is laughing maniacally at the destruction he is about to inflict.  The toys are trying to explain to newcomer Buzz Lightyear that Sid is basically the scourge of the neighborhood and Buzz sees him laughing through binoculars and asks, "You mean that happy child?"

Alan has the world's cutest giggle and frequently laughs to himself for no apparent reason.  That said, some times it takes on a bit of a maniacal quality that makes DH or I turn to the other and say, "You mean that happy child?"

I don't know if it is the fact that we recently put up the Christmas tree and Alan is excited about the holidays or if he is just outgrowing his meds or if it is because it has been too cold lately for him to go outside without shoes, but Alan has been incredibly moody lately.  One minute he is laughing maniacally and the next he is screaming and hitting and trying to climb on the fireplace mantle.  This past weekend I captured this period of giggles and an hour later he was in time out.  Sigh.

This kid will be the death of me!  I think it is time for me to go play with my minis.

The jacket

Some days I just want to cry.  Why does everything have to be a battle? 

It is getting to be cold where I live and I've been trying to get Alan to wear his jacket to school this week. 

Monday and Tuesday I just asked him to put it on and he refused.

Yesterday he got physically aggressive with me (hitting and headbutting me) when I insisted he wear his jacket.  Finally I ended up putting the jacket in his backpack for them to try at school.  Of course, they didn't go out yesterday and the jacket came home in his backpack.

Yesterday afternoon I had the brilliant idea that if he wanted to go outside after school he would have to wear his jacket.  He opted to stay inside and just watch videos.

This morning I tried again.  He grabbed his harness for the bus and I told him I wouldn't put it on until after he put on his jacket.  So he put the jacket in his backpack.

To add insult to injury, he was wearing his jacket when we picked him up from camp Sunday afternoon and they didn't say anything about him resisting.  It obviously fits and there don't seem to be any sensory issues with the material.

I guess if school can't get him to wear it, I just let him be cold?  Truthfully, he is such a tough kiddo he probably isn't terribly cold although he was shivering waiting for the bus on Tuesday and Wednesday.


I'm tired, frustrated and out of ideas.

Summer, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways ...

I know some parents that absolutely love summer.  None of them have special needs kids.  Coincidence?  I think not!
 
My favorite day of the year?  Usually the first day of school in the fall.  I saw this picture on Facebook last fall and fell in love.  Obviously staged, but still hilarious.  This could so be me.  

But as it is May not August, I have to content myself with enumerating the many ways I hate summer ...

1)  The heat.  Let's face it, I am of an age where heat is a problem.  I have hot flashes in December but they are seriously uncomfortable in July. 

2)  The humidity.  I live in a very muggy location.  If you walk outside, you start dripping.  Ugh.  The old adage of "Men sweat, women perspire and dancers glow" is BS.  I sweat and so do most people I know.  It is not a pretty thing.  Nor is it fragrant and I am very olfactory in nature.

3)  The clothes.  Let's just say I have a body best viewed with clothing ON!!!  Shorts, tank tops, etc. are really not that flattering.  I look much better in jeans and a sweater.

4)  The options.  What can you do if you are cold?  Exercise, put on layers, eat (one of my favorite activities) or snuggle under blankets.  Let's face it, sleeping in the winter is so much more fun!  What can you do if you are hot?  Sit in front of fan, drink something cool, or take off clothing (see #3).

5) My hair.  I have thick, curly hair.  I frizzes less if I let it air dry.  In summer that can take a while.  And it gets hot hanging down my neck.  But if I keep it short, I resemble a Poodle.  Sigh.

6)  The hours.  Alan used to always get up with the sun and go to bed when it got dark.  This has gotten better since he has become a teen, but used to always be a big reason I hated summer.

7)  The pool.  We live very close to a neighborhood pool.  It is noisy and frequently makes traffic a nightmare.  It is also a spotlight for how my children are different.  When most people have teenagers, they do not have to take them to the pool anymore.  They also do not have to supervise them because their teenagers do not swim where they are not supposed to swim or try to climb the water slide -- yup, Alan tried to climb UP the water slide last year!  And then of course there is #3.
 
8) The yard work.  To be fair, I do as little as possible in the yard (see #1 and #2) but it keeps DH busy more than the occasional snowfall in the winter and I happen to like to spend time with my hubby in the evenings.  At least Joe is helping out in the yard more.

9)  The absence of vacation.  This might seem like a weird thing, but we took our last family vacation last summer.  Alan tried to climb over the third story balcony on to the one below and tried to swim for the horizon (he's got a real "thing" about task completion) last summer.  This forced us to make the decision that it is just too hard to take him anywhere remote anymore. The problem is that I loved family vacations.  I don't think about it in the winter, but I sure do in the summer.  And it hard.

10)  The schedule.  Autistic people (and especially children) crave routine.  Routine goes out the window in the summer.  And summer school and camps are shorter than school hours.  I also have to provide transportation to camp.  All of which give me less time for my hobbies.  Selfish, but true.

To be fair, there are some perks about summer so I have to give them their due ...

1)  The hubby.  I get to see more of him because he takes days off work to help me out.

2)  The laundry.  There is just less of it in the summer.  The boys can wear two outfits on average every day and it just doesn't take up as much room as their jeans and sweatshirts do in the winter.  The only problem is that laundry is one chore I do not mind.  Figures.

3)  The colors.  I love looking at flowers.

4)  The light.  I actually do suffer from Seasonal Affectedness Disorder a bit.

5)  The food.  I have never been much of a veggie eater, but salad and fresh fruit?  Oh yeah!  And then there is ice cream.  'Nuff said.