Leaving their tails behind them

I field all the usual protests that are commonplace at mealtimes in most houses.

“Wot’s for dinner Mom?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Yuk I hate it.”
“I hate pie.”
“I hate shepherds.”
“Dummy! You don’t even know what a shepherd is!”
“Don’t speak to your brother, anybody, like that please?”
“Anything else? No vegetables please?”
“Only peas, frozen peas I’m afraid.”
“Can’t we have corn?”
“I don like peas, peas is poison.”
“I don’t like frozen.”
“I’ll cook them….warm them up first dear.”
“Hang on a minute………dya mean Shepherd’s pie or Cottage pie?”
“Er….” I try and recall which trip wire I’m about to hang myself on.
“Din you say Shepherds pie is made of sheep?”
“Sort of, that’s right, lamb but Cottage pie is made out of beef.”
“Oh no I hate the lamb’s tails one!”
“Lambs?”
“Tails?”
“No, no, no, that’s back in the olden days, we don’t make them out of lambs’ tails any more, just minced…..meat.”
“If we’re gonna have disgusting dinner are we gonna have delicious pudding to make up for it?”
“Um…..I haven’t quite got that far yet.”
“But that’s what you always do.”
“What is it that I always do?”
“When you give us poisonous dinner we also get delicious pudding, carrot and stick!”
“Carrot……carrots is poison.”
“I don eat stick.”
“No guys it’s like a bribe, like an M&M for doin the right thing.”

Clearly I need to rise to newer and higher levels of dastardly sophistication.

Tweet for Autism Day

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"Kristina" from "Autism Vox" and sister mom-bloggers, Bonnie Sayers, has organized Autism Twitter Day for next Tuesday, December 16th. Here’s what it’s about (via Left Brain/Right Brain; also see the autism group on Twitter, via I Speak of Dreams):

Autism Twitter Day – Tuesday, Dec 16th pacific standard time – 9AM, 12:30 PM and 8 PM. Prizes will be given out and a panel will be available with information and to answer questions.

This is open to twitter members, specifically those who are members of the autism community, whether it be a parent, sibling or relative. If you are on the spectrum you are welcome to take part. Most of the prizes are geared to children and young adults with autism or asperger syndrome.

The hashtag to be used for autism twitter day is #ASD. This means when you post a tweet that day which is on the topic of autism – positive autism awareness, please use the hashtag, either in front or at end of the tweet. Open up a window at www.summize.com and input #ASD to follow along with the conversation at the specified times. Most likely they will run longer than one hour. Stay tuned here and to my blog for prize and panel info.

We will be testing your knowledge on autism spectrum disorders, this is how the prizes will be awarded.

Bonnie has assembled an ever-growing collection of prizes, ranging from a children’s hammock (Charlie is too big for this, I suspect) to software to storytime felt sets. I’m not a big Twitter-er (my Twitter id is autismvox) but will be sure to be Twitter-ing on December 16th, and I don’t think I’ll be alone.

So join in and see what you can find out and or contribute.

Thursday 13 - 174 edition

Thirteen Things about Holiday gift disguise Take a look at the picture of the gift and guess what's inside? 1. 2. Homemade kiddie picture frame. Did you guess right? 3. What about this one? 4. It's a mini book. 5. 6. A golf ball. 7. 8. M & M's stuck on an old CD. 9. 10. 11. 12. CD 13. So what's the point? In these frugal times the gifts may be small or homemade but it can all be made a little more fun and festive without breaking the bank. Also thwarts those who shake and squeeze every package, as there's nothing like a little confusion to bring about a real surprise. Of course it's also one of the best way to open a gift without having to tackle the wrapping paper, an easy access and unflappable solution.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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Wordless - Special Exposure Wednesday

Yes we 'practice' hats for a few weeks and it's almost generalized.

If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Try tackling it Tuesday- Dye in the Wood

Many youngsters have a close affinity with colour. This is especially handy at the pre-reading stage of child development. A child's favourite colour can be used to aid a parent in the smooth running of home life, or if not smooth, then certainly less bumpy. If you are blessed with multifarious children, colour coding may bring a little sunshine into an otherwise rainbow existence.

Ideally, as a parent, a child’s colour choice should be guided by adult wisdom. Better still, if you can aim for primary colours, although that only works if you have three children, red, blue and yellow. Other, secondary colours, may be adopted if your paint pot palette runneth over with children. If you are forced to accept tertiary colours, then you need all the help you can get!

Some unfortunate children have very strong views and preferences about colour. If this is the case for you too, then it’s probably a case of ‘pick your battles wisely.’ This is why I have ended up in my current dilemma.

Not so long back our favourite colours were simple, orange, yellow and purple. Everything of note, from shoe stalls to toothbrushes, were matched to avoid cross contamination and general confusion, mainly my own. However, as the years have passed, many of these labels have become tatty, illegible and highly disagreeable. In an effort to update and brighten our home, I decided to re-label and make a fresh start to aid a smoother transition into the new school year. I spent many hours with coloured paper, scissors and tape until we were entirely wrapped up. Satisfied with what I considered to be a thoroughly splendid job well done, I announced my achievement to my beloved children. I herded them gently throughout the house to observe, learn and offer their congratulations…….

“That’s no good!”
“Dat is ……..dumb.”
“Dat is……..stoopid! Oopsie, sorry.”
“Why? What’s wrong? It all looks……perfectly perfect to me!”
“Duh Mom!”
“Yeah right! Duh Mom!”
“Yeah…..wot she said.”
“Well really! It would help if you could use a few better describing words rather than just tones of derision!”
“Well Mom, ya see…….it’s like this……..you’ve used orange, yellow and purple to label everything right?”
“Right.”
“Well those are our old ........ baby colours.”
“Baby colours?”
“Yeah they’re like soooooo ……not us…..right now……..in the moment.”
“In dah moment.”
“Yeah……like she says.”
“Indeed! What colours should I have used then?”
“Well for me personally, being in the here and now…….that has just gotta be purple.”
“That’s right you’re still purple, same as ever.”
“No mom, that’s not the right kinda purple, I’m more of a Lilac kindofa purple these days.”
“Ah.”
“An me…….I am be cool now wiv…….....white which is being no colour.”
“Ah……perfect for the filthiest child on the planet, I should have guessed!”
“An me…..I am being…..of yellow but of gold. I am being yur golden boy.”
“!”

Recipes from the fringe of the bell curve

To celebrate my new found ability to sign up for this blinking linking thing, I had another brilliant idea, you know, one of those ideas that strikes in the wee small hours of the night. As often as not, the next day dawns and the idea dies like a damp squid, not to say squib.

So here’s the plan. Consider sharing a recipe that your family, a family member or you, enjoy that doesn’t seem to be appreciated by many other bodies on the planet.

Guidelines:-

Ideally this should be something that you really prepare and eat. If you prepare and eat chocolate covered scorpions, all well and good, but attempt truthfulness.

Have you given it a name? If so, what is it and why?

Please offer enough detail to allow others to follow it easily. I favour piccies, but not everyone as is reliant on visual cues.

Try not to assume that everyone else is on the same page as you are. E.g a pnb sandwich may be obvious to you, but to me it refers to post nuptial bliss, which is difficult to squish between two slices of bread. I don’t want to even consider the possibility of jelly.

It doesn’t need to be outrageous nor inedible. It may be that you just have a twist on the communal garden variety of recipe that reflects your personal preferences. Here are a few tantalizing examples:-
• A grilled cheese sandwich with a smear of Marmite
• A freshly sliced tomato sandwich with ground black pepper and a generous dollop of Pesto
• Cheddar, Spring Onion, [Green Onion] and cucumber sandwich
• Tuna, Wholegrain mustard, onions and Tomatoes
• Any typically traditional sandwich where you routinely omit a main ingredient [I know who you are!]
• Butter and crisp [chips] sandwich.
• Cereal without the milk but with yoghourt instead [especially if each has to be a certain brand]
• A jam [jelly] sandwich with dill pickle slices
• Sandwiches with no filling

And people wonder why I make my own bread?

• Snacking on dried cat food doesn’t count, you didn’t make it.
• Raw cookie dough in a sandwich [please provide Salmonella warnings]
• A Big Mac:- hold the lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, pickle, cheese, run to the bathroom to rinse the patty under the hot tap, dry with care, return to table to eat and leave the bun on the side. Yes, that wouldn’t count either because you didn’t really ‘make’ it yourself!
N.B. if you put your dried cat food in a sandwich it counts.

A category would be helpful. E.g. side dish, in-between dish or main dish, but ‘accompaniment,’ ‘snack’ or ‘splurge’ would do just as nicely.

Please try to use useful terminology that is easily comprehensible. Terms such as ‘smidge,’ ‘dab’ and ‘pinch’ should be limited, as cookery should not be a contact sport.

Use any measurement system you like but aim for consistency throughout, as a combination of cups, stones and millimetres is likely to be messy.

A note about how many it is supposed to serve would also be useful. E.g. rabbit sized, human sized or supersized. Alternatively reveal your nationality and we can all adjust accordingly.

If you’re an American type with access to all the clever stuff nutritional stuff like good for diabetics, people with high cholesterol or high blood pressures and the like, then all to the good.

If you use uncommon ingredients, please provide a link to the product as we would like to muddle our Harissa with our Halva.

The only ‘label’ required to participate, nay, politely ‘requested,’ if you would be so kind, is a name for your recipe. If you could possibly avoid using ‘putrid’ or ‘poison’ in the title, that would be a delight, as we have someone to provide that insertion service for us already.

These are ruthless rules people.

Here’s mine.

Beetroot Salad for the Brave [A sidling or mainette dish]
One fist sized beet per person
One ounce of crumbly blue cheese, Stilton, Roquefort or Feta per person
One tin [can] of whole anchovies in oil
One teaspoonful of garlic puree
One splashette of Balsamic Vinegar
2 tablespoons of Extra Virgin Oil
One teaspoonful of roughly ground red and white peppers combined

• Bake the beets or microwave until tender.

• Leave to cool.

• Combine all the other ingredients.

• Add cooled, peeled and diced beets.

• Chill covered in the fridge for at least one hour.

• Serve on a generous bed of salad greens with hot, fresh bread, assuming you’ve not used it all up on sandwiches.

This should make your ears steam, your nose run and your eyes bleed. If not ……
then yur doin it wrong.

Coz Neophobia comes in many forms my friends.

Cheers dears

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To hell and back

I collect the children from school. As usual my eldest son is disheveled. I sometimes wonder what he believes the purpose of a backpack is in his life? Something extra to carry along with his jacket, homework, lunch pack and other assorted paraphanalia, armfuls of it, together with the backpack. We pause, as we always do, to stuff the backpack with his belongings, zip it up and persuade the backpack to attach itself to his spine. It’s a time consuming little exercise, made all the longer by the excitement of the end of the day, when there is sometimes important information to share, if we could but shrug off all the distractions.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear.”
“My friend.”
“Yes dear.”
“He…….says I’m gonna go to hell.”
“Hell? Who said you were going to hell? Was he swearing…….was he…….saying bad words?”
“No hell is a place …….where there is no Jesus.”
“Is it by golly! Is that what he told you?”
“Yes……and it’s real small…..with no power……and Jesus always wins.”
“Wins…….sounds a bit like the superhero version of Christian belief.”
“Wot?”
“Nothing…….why did he say you were going to hell?”
“I don know. Am I gonna go to hell? Am I gonna die? When am I gonna die? Is hell bad? Is it gonna hurt? I don wanna die, I wanna stay here wiv you.”
“Well different people believe different things.” I watch his body contract, stiffen and diminish into a small hard lump.
I don’t know about him, but I’m ready to die right now. I’m sure there was no evil intent behind what appears to be an innocent exchange between him and his pal. How was his pal supposed to know that certain nuggets of information trigger all kinds of unexpected bombs. It’s an all pervasive virus without a salve. I refuse to allow another bout of OCD to explode on our lives, infest every cranny and bespoil a perfectly dandy holiday season. He watches bemused as I stuff everything into the backpack, with far too much vigour. Punch it into submission. This one will not escape, “well, you’re in luck my fine fellow!”
“I am?”
“Yes, because I know everything there is to know about hell.”
“You’re an……expert….a trainer expert?” His eyes are wide in genuine mid startle mode. I’m sure it is the most delightful facial expression in his ever growing repetoire.
“I am. And when we get home I’ll tell you all about it and you can ask me anything you want.”

Who needs a light saber to defend? I knew 13 years in a Catholic Convent would come in handy sometime.

Melt my heart - SOOC Smiley Saturday

I stomp downstairs with the last box of tatty old Christmas decorations. The whole house is strewn with pine needles, bits of fir cones and general sparkly detritus of moulting baubles. The children entertain themselves with popping bubble wrap amid much chortling. Layers of tissue paper later I have cause to be considerably miffed:-
“Look at that! It’s ruined.”
“Hmm looks like it’s melted.”
“Of course it’s melted. Look at it!”
“Must be been jolly hot in the attic this summer.”
“Now there’s an understatement. What are we going to do with it now?”
“What do you want to do with it?”
“!”
“I wonder what temperature it has to be to melt and fuse candles?”
“Frankly I couldn’t give a monkeys.” I blow my nose and take a breath in-between hacking coughs.
“Maybe you should have wrapped them up a bit more carefully last year?”
“!”
“I don’t get it? Do you want to buy new ones or something?”
“No…..not really………it’s just everything is so………tired looking.” I have a head full of fog and a chest full of mucus, “all I know is that I have a zillion things to do and I have no time to fiddle about with wonky candles!”
My son glances across from his fine motor, pincher grip occupation, which he appears to have thoroughly mastered, judging by the continuous popping sounds, “I am love.”
“Yes I can hear that you are very good at popping.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I am love dah wonky candles.” Sadly I do not share his enthusiasm. I assume that I am just pooped after hauling so many boxes down from the attic. I surge off with a hint of huff for a coffee break, with a flu remedy chaser and a pause in the proceedings. Barely has the first drip of espresso dropped when I am summoned, again, “Mom!”
“What is it now?”
“I am being fixing it. It is perfick.”

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Sometimes the truth doesn’t hurt, much

I plop onto the sofa with my knitting for entertainment and distraction from my latest current dose of flu. A tired little pathetic pile of self misery mopped up with a box of tissues. Oh for a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Ours has long been a volatile household where upsets jump out to bite us at every turn. Over the years we have learned about a great number of triggers, hot spots and areas that need special attention but the overall effect can sometimes feel as if we walk on eggshells. On the majority of occasions we are able to manage these periods but when our own levels of energy are low, we adopt the line of least resistance.



He leaps onto my lap cat style, but less agile and with far too many rigid bones. For the umpteenth time I have a Ninendo DS screen shoved two inches from my nose to view his latest captured Pokemon with slightly less than enthusiastic zeal, “yes, very nice dear.” My daughter mutters, “she’s bored of your darned Pokemon,” but to no avail. I glare her into silence.
“You don wanna see my Pokemon?”
“Oh I do indeed, it’s just that I’m not feeling very well at the moment.”
“She doesn’t like you jumpin on her like that.”
“You don like me to be a cat on yur lap?”
“Oh I do indeed, it’s just that you’re quite a big boy now.”
“Yur too darned heavy man!”
“I am heavy?”
“Well heavier than you once were dear…..when you were smaller than you are now.”
“Lighter. Yur a great big lump a bones.”
“I am bones?”
“Well……your bones are …….bigger too…..than they once were……when you were smaller.”
“Yur bones are all pokey, don’t you get it? It hurts when a big lumpy, pokey boned boy jumps on yah!”
He blinks at his sister, as he kneels on my lap, all 76 pounds of him. He turns to face me, “is wot she is says……..true?”
“Well…..I suppose……sort of……” I wince and wait.
“Well why didnaya tell me?”
“!”

Mario Cake Decoration

Done and dusted.



He didn't want it to get 'dirty' by putting it ON the cake!

Any takers?

Stood up

Pin pricks of panic tweak my brain stem as the minutes pass, more birthday party guests arrive and there is no sign of his dad. Two hours of merriment seems more and more unlikely as friends gather to celebrate his 8th birthday at a local venue.

Parents depart one by one leaving me with an assortment of 14 children, three of my own, nine special needs children and two extra siblings, just to make it that little bit more fun. I am the only adult person present and not particularly responsible.

I make a dash for the back door to check it is locked and then to the front entrance where there is a youthful chap behind the till, “don’t let any of them leave!” I squeak and skuttle back to the smalls. I know for a fact that I have at least three bolters in my charge and two of them are mine!

I spend one hundred and twenty minutes in a state of high alert, encouraging climbers to remain earthbound, persuading picky eaters to shrug it off, negotiating disputes and opening those tricky juice pouches.

There are no meltdowns, no escapes and very little ill will.

As the last child is collected, I am ready with my sigh of relief. I am about to give myself a hearty pat on the back for my outstanding service to a successful social scene when light dawns. The success has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with the children. Each and every one of them is bigger, brighter and possibly happier than a few years ago.

Congratulations not so little people!

How Long? Wordless Special Exposure Wednesday

How long? Wordless Wednesday

How long does it take the average 8 year old to open four birthday presents do you suppose? I suspect that a thoughtful careful interested child may take some while to open and examine each one. I more impulsive child may rip them all open in seconds. I’m sure there are infinite variations on a theme to suit each little individual.

Around here, we set a new record, all over and done with within a half hour. The gifts were less than perfect but that turned out to be o.k. His presents were wrapped in paper which proved a challenge for the tactile defensive digits which are always super sensitive first thing in the morning. With lots of help, kitchen scissors in someone else’s hands, he managed to achieve unwrapped. Not so long back, his brother and sister had to help. He would stand at a safe three foot distance, within view but with ears protected from the outrageous ripping sounds.

I appreciate the credibility gap here. Can it be true that a child would refuse to open a present? Indeed it can and I have proof, since I am prone to exaggeration. Each and every year parcels would arrive from abroad from relatives. Each one had a little customs label to describe the contents:- plastic dinosaur, child’s toy, Thomas the Tank engine. How I loved those labels, they were my salvation. When the telephone calls came to check whether the gift had arrived, whether it was appreciated I was able to lie through my teeth, ‘yes it was perfect, how thoughtful, how delightful, so much fun.’ Meanwhile the package would remain unopened for days, weeks or a month after the event. I would cart those packages all over the house to where he sat, where he ate, on his bed, as a constant reminder and temptation. After a few weeks I would cut open the top so that he could see the wrapped present inside but nothing would induce him to insert a hand into the lion’s jaws. Even the taunt of Thomas, that most beloved, would fail to motivate contact with paper.

Sometimes a change of approach becomes inevitable. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes growth. But surely that’s just one of the many reasons why we celebrate that date, the birthday, the day that something new was born.







If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Last Minute gift –try tackling it Tuesday

This decorative tissue box cover provides an inexpensive, attractive, yet all too seasonal gift. It is also ready wrapped to save paper.

Sniff.


I’m told by those who know about such things that ‘gold’ is THE colour of choice but this could easily be adapted to anyone’s personal preferences.

The choice of fabrics in America is quite daunting, everything from golfing prints to stamp samples, so don’t rule out the unisex option. Fortunately there are also many cheaper remnants available for the thrifty.

Here’s how to put it together.



For your base colour, duplicate for contracting top colour. Don't forget to cut out a square for the bottom.



French seam the base colour strip and top colour strip together. French seam the side until you have the equivalent of a cylinder. Add the base. Hem the top. Insert the tissue box and add a decorative cord or ribbon. Pull a tissue up through the top to illustrate the purpose [otherwise some nitwit will try and unwrap it!] and Bob's your Uncle, or rather, you are done.

Other colour choices.





I’m working hard to get up to scratch with embellishments. American’s are big on embellishments, everything from tassels, glitter and sequins to buttons, stick on gems and ribbons. These make any item ‘fancy,’ so my daughter tells me. If it’s not ‘fancy’ then it doesn’t cut the mustard, or rather, pass the test of acceptability. Plain, simple and serviceable doesn’t rate at all apparently.






I can only guess how many gifts you need to assemble for your crowd such as the maid, chaffeur, manicurist, personal trainer and masseur, but around here, we have collected a great number of people who are involved with our children’s lives and development. I distinctly remember counting 28 people whose sterling work needed acknowledgment at this time of the year. So many expert therapists, teachers and aides all of whom were personally responsible for helping my children move forward. It’s difficult to think of just the right gift for someone who helps your child pronounce ‘th,’ someone who assists mid-meltdown in a caring and positive manner, someone who deals with the fall-out thereafter to say nothing of the one who helps reluctant digits gain the strength and dexterity to pincher grip a zip fastening. Surely this would be the time to crack open the vault and pass out the crown jewels, but who would get what? How can any of us evaluate and reward such treasures?

As yet I have no answers, so all we can do is give tokens, with sincere thanks.

All that glitters.......Magic Marker Best shot Monday

Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

***

It's that time of year.



Are you tempted?



Something for you, or maybe a friend?

Short of cash?

Well then this maybe the choice for you.

First you need one of these:-








Which you cut into rings:-










Bind with ribbon:-

We made several different kinds, this is bias binding.





Leave to dry - glue the inside first and then fold over the front. Do not use a hot glue gun or it will melt.






Decorate.

You can find more ideas int he book called Green Bling, turning bottles into Bandles by Heidi Borchers.

So that's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, apart from the bits that I left out.

The project was my suggestion to the boys, a birthday present for their sister. They recognized pretty and therefore appropriate. After that I was pretty much on my own. However, with a little persuasion they were fully present to pass the glue when asked, choose the colours and the 'gems.' They were particularly insistent that there should be no scratchy bits on the inside where there would be skin contact. The element of surprise or secret was a bit of a blow out, as their sister was present in another room to witness the ruckus and heated debate about her preferences, but you can't have everything in life and I suspect that she was quite impressed that they took such care.

I think that probably counts as a silver lining?

Meet Dave - a movie review

I mean to write a movie review for the film with Rowan Atkinson, as Mr. Bean, a while back, because that’s when it first happened. In fact I would go so far as to suggest that Mr. Bean has a blanket effect, regardless of the movie title, regardless of the number of words, the nature of the plot, the complexity of the language. His body language, gestures and facial expressions ping directly into the psyche.

Whilst my daughter squirms in excruciating embarrassment, the kind where you have to squint your eyes and peer out from behind a pillow, the boys, my boys, are rolling on the floor squealing with delight, spurting tears of unadulterated laughter. They’re so loud and raucous that the script is buried.

Hence last night, those same noises shook my home as they watched "Meet Dave."

Don’t quote me here, but there is some combination of ‘boy,’ ‘social skills’ and developmental age that induces mass funny. I can’t tell you what that developmental age is, but it’s certainly worth experimentation.

First warning – some Tom and Jerry style violence that may cause consternation in some.
Second warning – the concept of a body being invading by small beings may provoke endless existential questions.
Third warning – guaranteed to invoke scripting.
One final word of advice. Do you remember visiting the zoo and trolling over to the monkey house? On one occasion there was a disturbance, feeding time perhaps, and the monkeys went wild leaping, gamboling and calling in a frenzied party animal style? Well that’s what it was like in our house, the best aerobic workout you could ask for which ensures a solid night’s sleep. Remove all breakables from the room in advance.

Meet Dave

"Single Sentence Movie Review."

Eddie Murphy, the icon for social skills training, what not to do, how and why, with too many giggles to count.