Wordy Wednesday – feeling blue

Ms. Wordy Wednesday pops along to say hi de ho to me.

“Cute! He draws quite well. Glad he’s conquering his dislike of pencils. The paint must have been quite a challenge too.”
“Ooo you have such a good memory.”
“So that’s it then?”
“Of course not.”
“Clues?”
“Title.”
“You’re very curt today!”
“Ski week.”
“Ski week?”
“They’re all off school for a week.”
“Skiing?”
“In my dreams!”
“So um title……..expressing feelings and emotions perhaps?”
“Very good indeed.”
“He’s happy, hence the rainbow?”
“Actually that was a bit deceptive of me. I wanted to talk about depression.”
“Oh. Not exactly my field of expertise.”
“Me neither.”
“So are you feeling a bit down?”
“Not me, him.”
“Which one?”
“The little one.”
“How old is he again?”
“7.”
“7! Can you be "depressed" at 7?”
“Actually he’s had periods of depression since he was about 3.”
“3? Are you sure, I mean, ….how do you know? Has he been diagnosed by a doctor?”
“No, it’s just my best guess really.”
“Hmm it’s not that I doubt you exactly, ……it’s just that…..I’ve never heard of that before and………if a doctor hasn’t diagnosed him then…….well…..it just seems a little unlikely………doesn’t it?”
“I tend to agree with you.”
“So what makes you think he’s depressed?”
“Well he went to an early intervention class when he was little for a couple of mornings a week. Sometimes, every few weeks, he became unresponsive. He sat in his chair, a rarity in itself, and just wept silent tears.”
“Ooo dear.”
“The staff would ask him what was wrong and he either wouldn’t answer or just say that he was sad.”
“That is sad.”
“He’d just be all floppy.”
“Not ill perhaps?”
“Nope, nothing like that, just inert.”
"How....unusual."
"He'd stop eating too, couldn't even be tempted by Goldfish Crackers."
"Really serious then!"
"And of course he became nocturnal."
"Nocturnal?"
"Actually, not nocturnal, just awake all the time. No sleeping at any time."
"That must have been exhausting."
"It was a terrible worry because he'd wander around all night and I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to help him if I simply keeled over myself."
“What did you do about it?”
“Well at first……to be honest, nothing really. I had no experience of depression and we were still trying to learn all about autism.”
“Geez.”
“I did remember that the physician who first diagnosed him said to consider medications because many autistic people suffer from depression, especially in their teenage years and had very high suicide rates.”
“He told you that then!”
“Yes, it felt like another slap in the face at the time but thinking back it helped me join the dots.”
“So how often does this happen?”
“Less frequently actually. It used to be every two or three months and last for 3 to 5 days.”
“And nowadays?”
“A few times a year few days.”
“So now he can talk more, do you get any more clues?”
“Broadly speaking, it all boils down to self esteem.”
“Self esteem! In a 7 year old!”
“I know it sounds daft, but so much of it is feelings of worthlessness.”
“Geez Maddy I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s o.k. I don’t really know either. We just do the same for all of them, help them achieve small things that are really huge for them and make sure that they know that we understand and appreciate just how difficult some things are for them.”
“I think we should be doing that for all kids anyway.”
“How right you are.”

On a practical note, there are a few 'techniques' [how I hate that word!] that have proved helpful for my children. The first would be "Carol Gray's" social stories. Mine are of a much more simple, home grown variety, but when they see cartoons of them selves in a 'book' where their continued failed attempts eventually end in success, this has proved a great way of giving them positive feedback and reinforcement.

Why does it work? Difficult to say, but probably a combination the following:-

1. Being a visual learner
2. We're all ego maniacs at heart
3. We know that personalized products are a popular buy line
4. There's nothing like tangible evidence for the doubting Thomas
5. Many people respond to one on one time
6. ......it's fun!

Tues - Two and a half baths

Which half would you like?

It’s one of those little American oddities, a few words that are completely incomprehensible.

You can read it on a page, you can say it out loud, the net effect is the same. What on earth are they on about now? But that was in the good old days when I was a fresh faced immigrant. Years have now passed and I am far wiser. Non-Americans will be pleased to learn that Americans do not have diddy little baths. This is America, the land of big, bigger and the bestest.

Many moons ago in England, I lived with my family in a tall Victorian terraced house. Tacked on the back of the house as an after thought no doubt, was the bathroom. The bathroom had a bathtub, a toilet and a hand basin, but not very much else. It did have a deadbolt and a lock with a rusty old key the size of my small hand, but you needed the strength of a rugby player to shut the door, let alone lock it. All five of us were good sharers and privacy was non existent.













If we were really desperate, there was always the option of the old lean to toilet in the back yard next to the air raid shelter.

This original toilet was there before the bathroom was tacked on.

It was a place only for the brave.

I am, and always have been, a cowardy custard.










Hence I have little sympathy with the current generation of children in my care when it comes to foibles.

When it comes to foibles, which it usually does, their father has one, a foible that is to say. Every morning he shaves in the bathroom next to the kitchen. The bathroom has no bath and is the same size as a crampt cupboard. Standing room only. As he froths and shaves, rivulets of water run down his hands and forearms to collect on his elbows and then drip onto the linoleum floor. Two little puddles of dribbles, every day. This is no great hardship. What is great hardship, for me at least, are the blood curdling screams from my son, every day, when he decides to use the bathroom and finds his path blocked by his dribbling father.

The bulk that blocks his way isn’t the hardship. The hardships are the two puddles. It would be easy to step over the two puddles located closest to the sink, especially if you only have child sized 13 feet and are on your tippy toes, or easy for some people. Other people pogo on the spot and scream, loudly, every day.

Many people, would learn that if you encounter the same problem every day, it might be a good idea to find an alternative solution, preferably a quieter one. Other people need help finding solutions. It is hard to find a solution when you can’t hear. Generally speaking, it is hard to hear if you are screaming your lungs out.

All too often, I find myself just looking at him. I have to remind myself that he has an ‘on’ switch and an ‘off’ switch but no dimmer function, a period when he could think and work out an alternative. It’s an all or nothing approach to life. The absurd can sometimes seem ironic. It is quite sobering for me to realize that this is not a child having a hissy fit or a meltdown, but someone struggling with a gargantuan obstacle, a puddle that might just as well be Niagara Falls. It’s tempting to giggle, a nasty habit that I seem to have acquired over the years.

Instead, I wait a moment to see if the frenzy is spiraling up or down. If it’s on the up and time is precious, I have no option but to scoop him up and cart him off to the loathed toilet down the hall. If it’s on the down, then we have the opportunity to repeat the sequence, to find an acceptable alternative, every day.

Maybe one day, he’ll step over this hurdle all by himself. Just as with so many of the other foibles. It won’t disappear but he will find other ways of coping all by himself. Maybe soon.

AAP

No, not AAPR but APP which stands for the "American Academy of Pediatrics."


As you may know, I am a member of the "Autism Hub," that's the pink logo on the sidebar.

Today members of the Hub are blogging about Autism, no big surprise there, but more especially about finding spokespersons. I'm not of a particularly scientific frame of mind and I don't know what causes autism. I do know that you don't have to look much further than the gene pool around this neck of the woods.

Here is the letter from AAP:-

Subject: parent spokespersons

Hello,

As part of our ongoing response to media stories regarding autism and
vaccines, the AAP communications department is compiling a list of
parents who support the AAP and are available for interviews. We are
looking for two types of parents who could serve as spokespersons:

Parents of children with autism spectrum disorders who support
immunization and who do not believe there is any link between their
child's vaccines and his or her autism.

Parents of children who suffered a vaccine-preventable illness. This
could be a parent who declined immunization, whose child became ill
before a vaccine was available, or whose child was ineligible for
immunization.

We are asking for your help identifying parents who would be good
spokespersons. They do not need to be expert public speakers. They
just need to be open with their story and interested in speaking out
on the issue. We will contact candidates in advance to conduct
pre-interviews, to offer guidance on talking to reporters and to
obtain a signed waiver giving us permission to release their name.

If a parent were placed on our list, we would offer their name and
contact information to select media. We hope to build a list of
parents from a wide range of geographical areas.

As the Jenny McCarthy and "Eli Stone" stories illustrate, this issue
is likely to recur in the national and local media. The AAP is
committed to doing all we can to counter such erroneous reports with
factual information supported by scientific evidence and AAP
recommendations.

The anti-vaccine groups often have emotional family stories on their
side. The ability to offer a reporter an interview with a similarly
compelling parent who is sympathetic to the AAP's goals is a powerful
tool for our media relations program.

Please contact me if you have any questions or to suggest a parent to interview.

Thank you,

Susan Stevens Martin
Director, Division of Media Relations
American Academy of Pediatrics
847.434.7131

Or to email

ssmartin@aap.org (Susan Stevens Martin) direct.

You can contact them yourself here:- SPOKESPERSONS@LISTSERV.AAP.ORG

Or email me directly at m.mcewen-asker@att.net

If you could spread the word we'd be very much obliged.

[Preferably to some nice young photogenic persons who don't have funny accents]

Piccies artistically created by a smallish autistic person.

sat - Awards - Royal Banana

Dear little "Slouching Mom" [note the careful use of a 'c' rather than a 'g'!] who sloughs around "Slouching Past 40" has kindly given me this award, just to add to my weight of shame. Yes my fine friends, I now have to admit publicly, that although I have lived in the United States of America for 12 years now, there are still things that I need to learn.

I have learned that Swedes are called Rutabagas.

I have learned that Pavement is not a Sidewalk.

I have learned that Plums are really Prunes.

I could continue to list the great advances that I make daily, but sadly I appear to have completely missed something that is all to obvious. I learn today [probably last week by the time I get to post this] that in America bananas are called 'blings.'

Clearly I am a blithering idiot.

To be fair, the word 'bling' has cropped up in a wide variety of different circumstances in my life, but never for one moment did it ever occur to me that it was in fact a reference to the humble banana, the ultimate in convenience foods.

Ah well. Now I begin the oh so onerous task of matching the award to other blogs. Who should I wish to send a banana to, may I ask? Maybe a little randomness should be the order of the day? Same and fair.

So this delightful little monkey shall go to the next seven commentors.

Who shall it be?

Aha! My pal "Linda" over at "Are we there yet!" Now there's a woman who is a real trooper [now that I think I understand what a trooper is supposed to be - it always sounded like an insult!] There are so many different aspects to Linda's blog but if you've not visited before then her posting here called "Count five things" is a great introduction. [and I'm sorry I called you a sausage, I know that should have been 'hot dog'!]

Next to "Elissa" over at "Managing Autism," which indeed she does, admirably. If you have not visited before then I would suggest that you nip along and read "Coping with Life." We all wear many different hats in our everyday lives. When I read that post originally, I was wearing my 'I am under the weather at the moment' hat. When I read it today, I am wearing my chef's hat as I flip pancakes. Her message makes sense for everyone. If I ever read it again, I wonder what hat I'll be wearing?


Then to "Mel" over at "Random Thoughts [International Blog}" is a man of faith from the Phillipines, a regular visitor and a prolific blogger. Whilst this award may seem frivolous, I already know that Mel's big heart will find some terrific friends to share it with.


Then to "Casdok" at "Mother of Shrek." This is probably the ultimate in 'think differently' sites. The variety of her posts is amazing. There is always something fresh, new and mind bending! I defy any to visit and not be hooked. If you have not visited before then this post entitled "Big Pants."

To me this is evidence that despite being British, Casdok has international appeal without the need for translators. Knickers!

Next we have poor old "Veronica" over at "Some Day We will Sleep" who is 19 years young, last time I checked. "Veronica" and I need to have a serious chat some time soon about her sloppy definitions so that we can remain on the same page. What exactly does she mean by 'sleepless'?

Take your average night of perhaps 8 hours, at night time. If I sleep for 40 minutes each hour, every hour, then I am sleeping for the majority of the night, aren't I? Maybe instead I sleep for five of those hours uninterrupted but spend three hours of the eight changing bed linen. Does that fall into the sleepless category? What if my bed time is delayed by three hours for the same exercise in laundry, or curtailed prematurely, early in the morning? Do either of those count as sleepless?

I don't know how it is for Veronica, but in my case, I think the best solution is to improve my laundry skills, as 180 minutes would be in the category of severely inefficient!

I'd point you to a specific page but I can't figure out how to do that for her template.

Then to "Mr. Bloggerific Himself" over at "Your Packaging Sucks!" As an English person myself, I feel that this title should have a health warning = ' do not suck your packaging as this a dangerous pastime and you may choke or poison yourself.' As an American person, I appreciate that the word 'sucks' really means 'of inferior quality.' Fortunately neither term is appropriate in this case, otherwise I wouldn't be reading!

Where to start if you're a newbie? How about trying "why I don't like soup or coca cola." A long post [for some] but it just goes to show that as we grow up, sometimes we can figure it out for ourselves and we all love those light bulb moments, or at least I certainly do. As an aside, I am led to believe that if you don't like coca cola, this constitutes grounds for deportation!

Now "Furiousball"is in the wrong order but I couldn't access his blog at "Furious Blog - in my diatribe" yesterday. However, this morning I'm through. Frankly I disinclined to give that chap anything at all, as people are always sending him real, tangible gifts through the Royal Mail.....er......can't think what that is in America for a moment. Where is my word retrieval? Senility can be a blessing sometimes. Er.......UPS! There's so much to be jealous about; his little furious ball icon, his blog design, his strings, his presents.....did I already mention his gifts? Anyway, in case you haven't visited this thoroughly gifted individual before, I would recommend that you start here at his post entitled "staying on the line," because everybody has a complicated life.


So there you go. Isn't that encouragement enough to post a comment?

Cheers dearies

Awards - you make my day

"Tara" over at "tlcillustration" [tender loving care illustration] is a talented little creature and recently [if I get my act together] passed on this winkum dinkum award. Thank you so much for thinking of me. "At Silver Apples of the Moon" you too can have a glimpse of someone's life, with all it's many facets.


It's hard to pick a spot to start, but if pushed [hey, be gentle!] then I'd suggest this posting called " painting by lantern light ." Why this one? Good question. Tough answer. I think because you can see her work in progress, which is always fascinating to me and also because the idea of continuing to 'work' in such circumstances [dark!] makes my head hurt. I know, I'm just a wimp, but I'd simply throw my hands up in horror and run away to the nearest electric light I could find.

Then to "Meno" over at "Meno's Blog." If this is a new one for you then you might like to start with the quickie call "Up in Flames." It tickled my funny bone for a number of different reasons:- my 'hug a tree' daughter who has hissy fits about 'standby' buttons on household appliances, my pal in England who made me wait 45 minutes whilst she unplugged every item in her on bedroom flat again, and again, and again....... and my mum because she has just been brave enough to install a telephone answering machine - new fangled gadget guaranteed to set the house ablaze when you leave.......so she'll unplug it!


Next to "Flutter" in her delightful new spot at "Dark and Divine." Hmm? The Dark and Divine bit is gone. The 'craft' bit of 'fluttercrafts' is gone. So what are you calling yourself these days dearie? Louder please! Oh well, I expect she's busy with something else. Not to worry, I'm sure she'll put me straight in due course. If you haven't visited before then pop along to her post called "The kindness of Strangers" because we never know how many lives we touch.

Also to "Joey Mom" over at "Life with Joey." Her wee ones are more wee than mine currently are, but we share many of the same issues, joys and giggles. If this is a new place for you, I'd recommend this post here called "New Design."

Then to lovely sweet "Lime" at the "House of Lime," no bitter lemons around there. The house of lime is always full of entertainment for me, but if it's new to you, then a good spot to start might be here in her post called "Trinidad to Pennsylvania" where you can test your knowledge of chocolate = irresistible.

There's more sweet stuff to be had over with "Mer" at "Playing with my Food." I'm thinking of sending my youngest son over there to be desensitized to food as she's bound to have more luck than I am. Afterall, who could resist this step by step instruction posting on how to make a superb "Lemon Meringue Pie" with piccies, that had to be guaranteed success for everyone. Probably worth a book mark for those moments when the brain freezes over, or is that just me?

Also for my golly good pal "Linda" at "Are we there yet?" Linda is a real gem. How she manages to juggle career, family, blogging and the pressures of work I can hardly imagine. If you've not visited before then I would recommend this post of hers called "There's no crying in Dispatch."

A lovely new spot for me is "Lisa" over at "Lisa's chaos," a misnomer if ever I read one! Here you can bask in wildlife and fabulous photographs, none my blurry snaps around here. A good place to start would be here in her post called "Round Robin." This is great for a number of different reasons:-

1. I didn't know that Americans knew what the term Round Robin meant.
2. Lisa's potatoes assure that I'm not the only person who leaves things lying around for much too long.
3. I love black and white template sites.
4. It's a good way to find lots of other photography sites.

Lastly to the "anti wife". For anyone who has aspirations to improve their writing style then nip on over for a free tutorial! The "anti wife" has started to attend a writing course, and penny pinchers such as myself can learn a great deal from her financial investment. Now that's my kind of long distance learning experience. If you've not visited before then I would suggest that you start of here at her post called "Lesson 1 - the setting."

New post up on "Alien." It's 'Dinner Party II' so it may be better to read I first.

Complementary abilities and word retrieval

I drive the boys home, a pal and my son, the very verbal and the not so much so.

A match made in heaven.

They are as different as chalk and cheese but they share the same label.

They have little in common yet they are a perfect foil for one another. Mine is a head taller yet a year younger, but I'm not really interested in chronology or inches. I watch them in the corner of the rear view mirror. My son examines the inside of his pal’s ear, the one closest to him, both pal and ear, that is to say.

“Your ear……” he fizzles out.
“What about my ear?” he asks looking straight ahead. My son sticks his finger tip in his friend’s ear, tentatively.
“Don’t do that, you’ll make me deaf and then I won’t be able to hear ever again,” he responds factually, without reproach.
“Oh.”
“You know you should never put your fingers in your ears, it’s bad to put your fingers in your ears, even if it’s really noisy you should never put your fingers in your ears,” he explains with authority.
“Oh.”
“You see these bits? These bits of your "ear" here?”
“Dey are be calllllled ‘lobes.’”
“Yeah, right. If you take your lobes and stuff em in your ear holes, that’s dangerous too. It could stop you from hearing forever. You shouldn’t do it o.k. or you’ll go deaf.”
“Oh.”
“So don’t do it right? Don’t stick your fingers in your ears or you’ll bust the bit inside and then you’ll be deaf for ever and ever.”
“Dah inside is being dah ‘drum.’”
“Yeah, that’s right. So don’t bust it.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know what else happens if you bust your ears?”
“No.”
“You’ll fall over coz you’ll break the balance bit in your ear.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, you have this thing in your ear, like when you spin round and round and it kindof makes you dizzy, you’ll break that bit and then you’ll fall over all the time.”
“Dat is be dah cochlea, curly. It be looks like a snail.”
“Yeah, like that guy next door in 4th Grade, he’s got a cochlea implant.”

A car honks close by. Both boys cover their ears with their palms in the same instant and duck in unison.

St. Valentine

“Ooo I am love!”
“Are you? Er,..... I mean what do you love?”
“I am be love deez!” he shakes the packet of Marshmallows.
“Rubbish! You hate Marshmallows.”

I recall our long programme of desensitization to textures, ongoing. Part of it included making stick figures with Q-tips and baby Marshmallows. I was never that keen on them myself anyway, a heathen American invention if ever there was one, but 35 minutes of that particular exercise, more or less finished me off. I was quite deafened by the whole experience and the desensitization programme was designated an unmitigated flop.

“I am be love now.”
“Really why?” He squeezes the bag to his chest in little vibratory movements.
“Coz dey are pink and pink is being my favourite colour.”
“Ah yes, I’d forgotten that. So you’ll eat pink ones but not white ones?”
“No.”
“But you just said that you like them!”
“I like em because dey are…… puff…….I mean…..dey are soft.”

He gives the packet another little hug.

“Well that’s……good. I’m going to use them to decorate the little heart shaped cakes for your class tomorrow.”
“Decorate?”
“Yes. I’ll put one marshmallow on each cake, glue it in place with icing…..er…..frosting. Do you think your friends might like them?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you think you’ll like them, like them enough to eat one perhaps?”
“Er no……”
“You could try?”
“It be bad to eat dah fings you love. If I eat em, then I can’t hug em.”

Here are a few picture links to more mainstream or traditional Valentine themes.

Not really "Hearts" and flowers.

Much more my kind of hearts and "Flowers."

Just in case you dipped out, here is a "Bouquet."

Or a "green" alternative.

Wordy Wednesday – the sense of smell

“A floor plan? You don’t know anything about architecture do you?”

“What I know about architecture could be written on the back of a postage stamp.”

“So why to we have a picture of a floor plan then?”

“Just think of it as a map, put you in the picture as we go from A to B, so you can get your bearings.”

“Fair enough. We start at A?”

“The sitting room, but we never really use it. It’s just an extra piece of space like a corridor.”
“Why am I interested in this?”
“Because he can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
“Because it smells.”
“Dare I ask what it smells of?”
“We don’t know. We can’t smell it. I know! Maybe we should start in E, the half bathroom.”
“He can’t go in there because it smells?”
“Spot on.”
“Bathrooms often smell.”
“This is before it’s even been used, first thing in the morning.”
“Maybe you need a cleaner?”
“It’s the trash can that’s in there too.”
“Maybe you should empty it?”
“I empty it every day and wash it once a week.”
“Can you smell it?”
“No. However it doesn’t really matter because he can’t get into the smelly bathroom because you have to go through the smelly utility room first.”
“Your utility room smells too?”
“Yes. That’s where I put the cats’ bowls of food.”
“Ah that can be stinky.”
“It’s dried and it’s usually empty first thing in the morning.”
“Sounds like he’s safer in the kitchen.”
“No can’t go in there, or rather……he can run through it very fast.”
“Your kitchen smells?”
“Sometimes I forget to turn the dishwasher on at night, or it’s not full enough to turn on. Inevitably I’ll have to open the fridge at some point, which means all those mixed stinks will roll out in a cool, all enveloping wave.”
“Hmm you make it sound so……unattractive.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you think he has an over developed sense of smell or something?”
Something like that. I don’t know if he has more sensors or whether the sensors are calibrated too high?”
“It’s hard to imagine, but it sounds all too real.”
“At least he can tell us about them now.”
“True. So it’s only the little one.”
“Yup. Tell you what, I’ll give you a little ‘for instance.’”
“Right.”
“Strawberries.”
“Love em. The taste, the smell, their appearance, everything about them spells summer.”
“What about if they’ve been in the fridge overnight.”
“How do you mean?”
“Have you ever opened the fridge door, wondered what is that terrible smell, discovered the strawberries and commanded you nose to re-adjust itself so that you can smell the lovely strawberry smell instead of the stench?”
“Er….no……I can honestly say that you’re completely on your own on that one.”
“Ah well, worth a try. How about this one? I put some all powerful perfume on the skin under your nose, above your lip.”
“Which perfume?”
“Eau d’Anchovy.”
“Yuck, are you kidding me?”
“Nope, try it! See how you function, whether you can concentrate, whether it’s possible to eat or drink, if you can enjoy any of the things that you usually enjoy when you can’t get rid of that all pervasive stink.”
“So……if I ever come visit, I’ll bring my own peg.”
“Free to all comers!”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I may just need to go take another shower now. See you next week.”
"Cheers."

By the by, "Amanda Baggs" made a superb video about how some people's sensory systems differ. You may well have seen it before but I think it's due for another airing.

Exclusive and Elusive

One of the strangest things about a speech delay is the effect it has on a parent.

Lucky parents like me, notice that ever so gradually over time, the delay has diminished. They are less non-verbal. They have oodles of words. They can stick a whole stack of them together to form what resembles a first class sentence.

The stutters and stammers are less frequent. The diction is poor but comprehensible to anyone who is sufficiently motivated and interested. Yet their meaning……….is so often mysterious.

This could be a fatal flaw for a parent, but I say, if in doubt, just jump in with both feet.

“I wanna go mushroom surfing!”
“Uh, uh, uh, finish getting dressed first and then you can go mushroom surfing.”


“Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“Now you are beed dah Super A Plus!”
“I am? Really! I don’t think I’ve ever had an ‘A’ for anything, let alone a Super or a Plus, for that matter.”
“Well…..now you are be!”
“B! I’ve been demoted already? I only just had the A. What did I do wrong?”
“Not ‘B’……’be’”

“D’ya know……ya can git…….. hedgehog pants?”
“Um…..no…..actually I didn’t know that. Do you want hedgehog pants?” I can think of few things more painful than knickers full of prickles.
“Japan.”
“Japanese hedgehogs? I didn’t know Japan had any hedgehogs? Porcupines perhaps?”
“No. Japan is have sonic.”
“Er……sonic…….sound……um…..”
“Sonic, he is be from Japan.”
“Oh, I don’t think I knew that either. Oh! Sonic the Hedgehog is Japanese!”
“Yes! I am be want pants like dat.”


“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Where it is be?”
“Where is what?”
“My……DNA is be?”
“Oh, your DNA is in every cell in your body.”
“In my hairs?”
“Yes.”
“In my nail?”
“Everywhere, every single cell has your own unique DNA.”
“I am like.”
“What do you like?”
“Unique.”

Voting power?

I gave a lot of thought to this post, a whole 72 hours of cogitating. It occurred to me that this might be a way of making the concept of autism a little less ........hmm, how can I put it.....unpopular, more mainstream, shed a little light in the darkness perhaps?

Andy 29 also known as "Angela" over at "Memoirs of a Chaotic Mommy" has very kindly nominated my blog for a number of awards, quite alarming! But I'm none the less grateful, thank you so much.

You may or not be familiar with this site and it's nominations, but believe me, it's not for the faint hearted. You have to register, and then whizz off into middle earth never to see the light of day again. Quite nightmarish and I speak from personal experience here.

My first brilliant idea was to nip on over and vote for myself 7 and a half million times for each category, to guarantee success but quickly discovered that this isn't possible = rats!

Looking at the options, my techy husband says he needs to vote strategically. Why does that phrase sound so familiar?



Best of all time! In my dreams maybe dearie.



Stuff? Maybe, that largely what I write about, I think.....just stuff.



Health seems like a bit of a long shot, unless we're talking about mental health, mine not theirs.



Blogitzer? Can't even spell it!

So what do you think? If you click on any of the buttons, it whizzes you right there.

So I'll leave it here a while until I become thoroughly embarrassed but I'd be grateful for your opinion as to the possibilities of this shameless self promotion.

In the meantime I need to visit someone with a sticky post so that I can find out how to keep it stuck. Ooo the trial of bloggy skills and steep learning curves.

Grateful thanks to "Robin" from "Around the Island" and "Kevin" from "Left Brain Right Brain" for their help and patience.

Lastly, in the alternative maybe we could come up with the right collective noun for trolls, both English and American, or possibly universal? All suggestions welcome.

Here are a few that we came up with:-

A Nightmare of trolls

A Haunting of trolls

An Anonymity of trolls

A Tirade of trolls

and my personal favourite, 'A Menace of Trolls.'

Cheers dearies

Developmental challenges, for parents

Unexpectedly, he leaps to my defense, “do not be disturb him! Cant you see he is be nit!”
“Yes I can see your mother’s knitting…..she’s a she remember, not a him.”
“Oh yes, I am beed forgetting dat.” I still find myself tripped up by the correct use of some vocabulary and the complete absence of other parts of speech.
“You can see it beed grow longer, look!” he beams at his father. How we love that joint attention.
“What’s all this business with the knitting all of a sudden?”
“Don’t ask me? He wants me to sit with him. He wants me to knit. You’ll find no complaints from me.”
“What’s with this sudden fascination?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve yet to find a parental manual that provides guidance on the subject.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“The knit one, purl one stage of development.”
“I just don’t get it.”
“Neither do I.”
“We shouldn’t really do that should we.”
“Do what?”
“Talk about him whilst he’s……here.”
“You’re right. We shouldn’t.”
“You are talk about me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We’d like to know why you like knitting so much?”
“Because it is nitty, nitty, nitty andddddddd it be growed.”
“?”
“Do you mean ‘clicky, clicky, clicky,’ er…..the sound of the needles? That clickety noise drives me wild. Perhaps you should try plastic needles instead.”
“Maybe it is the sound. Is it the sound dear?”
“Nitty, nitty, nitty!” he guffaws unable to contain his hilarity.
“Your nose is so close to the tips though. I’m surprised you haven’t poked his eye out with a needle.” He screams as he covers both eyes to run blindfolded from the room at high speed.
“Ah…..that was a mistake.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you think he’ll be alright?”
“Lets give him a few minutes. He has stopped screaming.”
“Do you think he hurt himself with that clunk?”
“No screaming…….so presumably not.”
“Well that’s jolly annoying!”
“What is?”
“Well now……. …….we’ll never know?”
“The end of another era.”



New post up on "Alien."

Bloggers of the world Award

"Deb" over at "Canvas Grey" has very kindly given me this award. Thank you "Deb".

I should also point out [I think?] that this was started by "Colin."

Possibly I should link to "Colin" here, but I'm a little technically challenged on the directions!

As we already know part of this award means passing it along to others and so I’d like to award to the following:

First to "Kelley" over at "Magneto Bold Too." A strange name? Something to do with magnets maybe? Good guess, I'll give you that, but not at all. Instead we have a blog where the host has enough energy and humour to drag us all out of our beds in the morning. Personally I think she's turbo driven by chocolate, if you can call "Clinkers" chocolate. But what do we foreigners know anyway! If you're wondering where to start, I would suggest this post called "rule 34 and clinkers." This helps with blogging techniques and is fueled by clinkers.

We would also nip along and visit "Bonbon Mamma" at "Is this what you do all day." Somehow I feel that should have a question mark after it, but that's me just being picky. If anyone ever asks me that question, I shall have my own answer fully prepared 50 page response in triplicate. I'm uncertain whether Bonbon Mamma is fond or sweets or is just so much 'gooder' than the average, but you can decide for yourself by visiting her posting titled "I'll be playing here all week," because somehow at the bottom of it all, we're really all aiming for the same thing as parents, but we need to have a giggle whilst we're doing it.

On the whole, I try and avoid healthy people like the plague. If I'm allergic to exercise then if I get too close to one of those types I'm sure I'd break out in a rash. So saying, I keep bumping into people who are determined to wear their bodies out at twice the usual rate by running around until their legs are but mere stumps. "Lori" at "Spinning Yellow" is just such a one. If you are similarly inclined, be that a rabbit type like "Lori", or a slug type like me, you may find this post inspiring, called "Least you think," although I think she meant 'lest,' or maybe not come to think of it! I found it inspiring in theory, but I was sitting down when I read it, felt completely exhausted thereafter and promptly fell asleep.

A new one for me is "Mid Lifer" at "Navigating a midlife crisis" I wonder why this hits a chord for me as I am so past mid life myself? If you have not visited before, then her post here called "Dad" might be a good place to start.

"Kaber" over at "All about [my] boys" is one of those stunningly efficient people that leaves me gobsmacked. I could no more homeschool a child, mine or anyone else's, than I could ride a unicycle. Homeschooling or not, you're sure to find a few good tips that will come in handy such as this post here called "Dirigibles." I mean how can you resist!

Now last night I was watching a 'whodunnit' on the telly. I was distracted from the main plot by an actor who pointed out that there is no such thing as a one dimensional person, except in pure mathematics. Why do they drop these little brain teasers in I wonder? Anyway, the point was that at worst you can be 2-D but in reality, most people are multi dimensional. Some bloggers choose to show one facet of their lives, but everyone is a diamond cut. One little gem is
"Kristie" who blogs away at "Life with my x men," and a good place to start would be here in her post titled "Antithesis of watching superbowl." Naughty, naughty, naughty!

Lastly we come to "Robin" from "Around the Island." I think everyone already knows "Robin" who is a superb hostess. What you may not already know, is that Robin doesn't live on an island, she's completely land locked. It's another one of those cunning bloggy tricks to tease your brain. Her island if firmly cemented in the centre of her kitchen. Just for now, I'd recommend this post called "the thing about traveling."

Tel Aviv anyone!

Cheers dearies

Amazing Awards

"Vi" over at "Village Secrets" has very kindly passed on this beautifully scrolled award.

"Vi" coupled her award posting with an "amazing meme" of past conquests. In the interests of sexual freedom I'm inclined to do likewise, but for reasons of .......logic.........that I can't quite conjure up at this moment, I'll have to decline.

So first up is a blog that I have been reading for a long while although my google reader has messed up my devotion to the "Phantom Scribbler." Her posts are little rays of sunshine. Her post "How much is a million" should guarantee that you have a wistful expression for at least a few peaceful reflective moments.

Into every life.......now here is a blog that is not for the faint hearted. "Suzy" over at "Identity Crisis" takes my breath away with her posts. I never know how to respond. I am fortunate not to have shared or experienced any of the pain that she has, but I always come away knowing that as parents, our responsibility for our children's experiences cannot be taken too lightly. If you are feeling brave, then start at her post titled "Two for a nickel."

Another blog I enjoy very much is "Franky's" blog over at "Frankily yours." I'd like to say that great minds think alike, but clearly her brain functions are of a much higher order than my walnut sized one. A good spot to start to get a flavour of the true
Franky, might be here in her post titled "Me Likey " because we all need to support the green, and don't forget to check the sidebar which clearly says 'fiction / humour.' [except she appears to be missing a 'u,' clearly a typo oversight!

Then to "Rise out of me," for her thoughtful posts. I thought about posting this U-Tube video too, but I was too cowardly [of course!] so that would be a good place to start over here called "Cow." Actually that's a little fib on my part as it's really a wordless wednesday post but we choose not to follow the wordless rules! We have to have our little rebellions.

Also for "Melissa" at "red head Momma" A good place to start would be her post entitled "Lessons from a boy" because it shows what a long way all our children have come and how much we just can't but help celebrate.

Next would be "Angela" at "Memoirs of a chaotic Mommy." [does anyone realise how hard it is for me to write 'mommy' instead of 'mummy,' so next time I get it wrong, bear this failing in mind! So a good place to start for a little fun would be here at her brief post called "Oh me too!" especially if you like cats.

Number seven goes to "Fragile X." Although our 'labels' differ, we share many similar issues, although she manages with considerably more grace than I do. If you think you might enjoy some eye candy then you might like to start here with "this" post.

Cheers dearies

Give a little - homework strategies

There are two types of person on the planet, the typical and the atypical. The typical person, such as myself, ensures that everything is done ahead of time. The atypical person does everything at the last possible moment. The typical person has a list of tasks to accomplish and does the most horrid ones first, to get them out of the way. Atypical persons have their own bizarre set of rules that make no sense whatsoever.

With this in mind I have a rethink of the current homework policy, do it now, do it first, get it over and done with, because it is the most horrid. Next, the less horrible chores of making their packed lunch and choosing their clothes for the following day. Collectively, these three tasks consume every painful waking moment from the end of school until electronics time at 5:30 p.m. The lure or bribe, of electronics time, is the motivator. They must achieve electronics, so that I have thirty minutes to clear up and produce supper, otherwise the next two hour block of time before bed will be disrupted with dire consequences for all, especially me.

Many wise parents know that homework, after a long day of school is plain bad management. Everyone who returns from work or school, needs a little time to cool off, or chill as we Americans say.

This is why I know that I am frosty, frozen in the paralysis of my own way of doing things, a way that doesn’t work for my children. I examine the facts. Both my brother and my eldest daughter are so atypical as to be worthy of the title procrastinators. Burners of the mid night oil, they claim that it is only when they’re up to the wire that they win the race, due to the adrenalin rush.

Poppycock clearly.

The mere possibility that we shall fail to complete what we need to complete, within the designated time, is enough to give me palpitations. I must acknowledge the unwelcome truth, that I have morphed into a control freak of the worst order. How I envy those relaxed parents, the horizontal ones, who glide through their day and help their children surf to safety. How come I dipped out of the ‘surfing’ gene? When did I change from the ‘we’ll get there eventually’ type, into the ‘we’ve missed the boat’ type?

................

My daughter has gone to do her homework and then play, with her pal. Now is the ideal opportunity, with only two of them to manage.

I make my announcement as to the temporary rule change, that will be subject to change if it doesn’t work.

I watch them play whilst I riffle through their homework files. I read every page and clarify who is expected to do what, when and how? I ponder over the bits that are unclear, until they become clear. I determine that maybe, just maybe, I am now better prepared to single handedly guide them through their different homeworks.

I dither. Which would be worse or better? Constantly reminding them of the sands of time that are running out, so that homework time doesn’t arrive as a shock, or say nothing and let them enjoy their play time trouble free? When does constant reminding and reassuring become nagging? I decide to split the difference. Fist hour nothing. Second hour shows the visual timer on count down, not stapled to their bodies but over to the side, within radar range.

At five o’clock I haul them in. 30 minutes for homework and two chores.

He’s off to a flying start, head down with lots of rapid pencil movements. His little brother makes rooster noises but he is at least in position, at the table, pencil in hand. 3 work sheets later he’s off, charging up the stairs to gather clothes. This visual cue, the departure, sends his little brother into greater volume, rooster squalking mode, but his hand starts scribbling.

He returns and bowls into the kitchen, dumps his clothes vaguely in the designated area and starts the long business of choosing which squeezy yoghourt to favour for his lunch. The rooster changes to barking as the last ten minutes show in red. “I am be trick time!” he bellows as he flips it forward another 15 minutes. I ignore this deviation and haul him along for the next few lines. He hurls the pencil aside like a hot poker on the last period and catapaults upstairs with me close at his heels. He wrenches clothes from hangers, bundles them up and racing back downstairs. We leap around the kitchen lobbing foodstuffs into the general area of his lunch bag. As the last minute clicks off, both boys explode into the family room to pick up electronics.

I drag out the ledger, the heavy tome that I store in a zipped compartment of my brain just behind my right ear, to make my calculations. On the down side there is scappily completed homework, a wild assortment of random food items and mis-matched heaped clothes. On the upside we have skipped two hours of misery and have achieved, oh wonder of wonders, task completion. In the interests of fairness I have to weight the latter considerably. Overall, I would have to concede that this backwards result, falls on the positive outcome side of the book of life.

The bell rings.

I stagger to the door where my daughter stands with a face like a wet weekend. “I couldn’t do my homework coz I didn’t have any markers, cun you help me, pleazzzz, it’s gonna take forever.”

Rats! My scheme has failed. The evening routine is in tatters, as is the end of life as we know it.

I suspect we shall be on take out tonight. Positive reinforcement for mummies at least.

To be or not to be, that is probably the answer

We sit at the table to attempt homework.

The table lies in a wasteland, a sea of scrumbled papers, snapped pencils, broken nibs and chewed erasers.

At approximately three minute intervals one of them leaps off the chair, dives down the corridor and escapes out into the garden on a cat retrieving mission. He is oblivious to the rain, barefoot and determined. The hallway is covered with human and pet prints, of the kitty litter variety that harden to cement in minutes. The cat is also resolute, anything to remain outside in the rain so as to avoid the nightmare of homework time. I’m tempted to join him, the cat that is to say.

“You can be?” asks the little one.
“I can? What can I be?”
“You can be my Hamburger Helper.”
“?”
“HAMBURBER HELPER!” he bellows for my benefit.
“What is a hamburger helper?”
“You don know?”
“No I don’t? I’ve seen it in the shops but I don’t really know what it’s for?”
“Dey are beed sell dem in the shops?”
“Yes.”
“I am not see dem. Where dey are?”
“Um….on the aisle with cake mixes I think.”
“What is it be?”
“What is what dear?”
“Cake mixes?”
“Er….well it’s sort of dried…..cake…..you mix it will eggs and stuff and bake a cake.”
“I am not want cake mixes, I am want Hamburger Helper.”
“Why?”
“Coz I am need dah help.”
“How is Hamburger Helper going to help you? You don’t eat hamburgers.”
“Oh…..”
“Oh what?”
“I fink I am meaning Homework Helper.”

I don’t think that comes in a box.

Wordy Wednesday – the Incredible 5 Point Scale

“Aha! No guessing required then?”
“Indeed. I thought I’d make it easy this week.”
“So how much is your commission?”
“Oodles upon oodles.”
“No link to Amazon?”
“You don’t need it, just some coloured paper, a black pen, cardboard and some sticky backed plastic?”
“Sticky backed what?”
“Laminater to you dearie.”
“And why exactly would I want one of these. I don’t have any autistic kids?”
“Well try it on yourself and if it works then you might have a go with the kiddie winkies.”
“Again, why?”
“Well maybe you have little kids that don’t have many words, or kids that lose their words when they get all het up.”
“The word "tantrum" does spring to mind.”
“Do you always know what’s upsetting them?”
“Sometimes is obvious but other times they’re wailing so much I just can’t figure it out.”
“Well that’s when this comes in handy.”
“How?”
“Quite often I can get really, really upset about something, I can feel the pressure building, breathe faster, heart racing, that sort of thing.”
“Me too.”
“We’re adults, we can usually recognize what’s happening to us, but children often don’t realize that they are heating up.”
“I suppose. But how would this help?”
“The idea is that you catch them as their emotions are rising. If you start with when they’re having a good day…”
“Or moment!”
“True! Then they can learn to associate feeling okie dokie with green, nice, calm and happy.”
“Okay.”
“Then you want to catch them when they’re just starting to get upset ‘yellow’ or already upset ‘orange’ but not when they’ve completely lost it and in the red zone.
“You know, that’s quite a useful skill to acquire for anyone. Bio rhythms. ”
“Indeed. Wish someone had introduced it to me when I was little. One of the things that I most like about this, is that I’m being active as a parent. Sometimes I can feel so helpless but this helps the communication. Even if they’ve lost their words they can still point at the right colour, the numbers helped for one of mine in particular.”
“I’m not sure about your colour scheme though. I often associate being in a rage with black or blinding white.”
“Adapt and survive, just figure out what works for you.”
“So you could probably adapt that to other things.”
“Right.”
“Like…one of mine has a tough time with our bedtime routine.”
“Really? Sounds like you’d be better off with "sequencing" and "social stories" for that one.”
“?”
“Another time, another post.”
“Could I use it when he gets in a tizzy about sharing?"
“Sure. Just about any tizzy you experience, it’s very flexible.”
“Yeah, so that might help get things under control.”
“I hope so. One of the most fabulous experiences I've had is helping them recognize what it feels like to be in a 5 and then gradually, gradually, gradually oozing back down to a green 1.”
"We Americans call that 'empowering.'"
"Hmm, for both of us!"
“Geez, I bet it took forever until they grasped the concept?”
“You would think so wouldn’t you, but actually they ‘got’ it straight away. It took some practice, but it certainly tapped into something that’s maybe innate in all of us.”
“Ooo a bit like those "colour me beautiful" things in the 80’s?”
“Don’t date yourself dearie.”
“So are you gonna tell me about the calming techniques?”
“Good grief no, that would take forever. You could write tomes just on that one subject.”
“Another time perhaps?”
“There are a zillion books out there on the subject already.”
“Could you recommend one?”
“Well it’s a bit tricky as there isn’t really a one size fits all version.”
“Wriggled out of that one well. See you then. Cheers dears!”
“Hey, don’t pinch my line!”
“O.k. How about, toodle pip!”
“See ya babe.”

An institutional diet

I pick up four pairs of socks and three unmatched singletons, evidence that I have no influence or control over the 7 children in my home.

I can count to seven.

Seven is indeed my favourite number but I cannot say with any degree of certainly why I have four additional children in my house? Did I double book myself twice? How has this come about?

I give up and commence snack creation for the masses as malnutrition is imminent. I have a basic knowledge of four of them, one typical, 3 autistic. The overall ratio is a challenge, but probably only for me. I calculate the probability and possibility that one or more additional children will still be present at supper time? Which one, or more, is likely to be forgotten about or subject to the delayed parent, who drowns in traffic and rain? Is there any food substance on the planet that five autistic children and two typical children all eat, preferably something that I already have on hand?

I have a 33.5 ounce catering carton of Goldfish Crackers. If push comes to shove, will any parent thank me for feeding their child four and a half ounces of Goldfish or shall I been condemned as a gluten wrecker? Is four and a half ounces of Goldfish enough to sustain life for a period of 4 to 5 hours? How many calories does the average active child require per hour anyway? Why do I not already know any of these things?

During the car journey from school, I managed to determine that 5 people can just about contemplate the challenge of drinking water in a strange home because they have soda free, juice free variety of autism, by personal preference. I have no Dr.Pepper, Sprite or Coke for my daughter’s pal, who is not impressed with the water option.

I learn, to my surprise, that American girls drink neither milk nor orange juice, even under exigent circumstances. Even more surprising, is the fact that American girls do not eat Goldfish Crackers because they are considered baby food, or in the alternative, that they ruin a diet. I am alarmed that a ten year old girl is knowledgeable, extremely knowledgeable, about diets at all.

“What it is be?” hollers my seven year old as we burst into the kitchen.
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“What is what dear?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” bellows one.
“That stinky smell?” Children gather around the screamer and the source of the stink.
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” Chorus two.
“What is that thing anyways?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” creeps the mantra.
“It’s a bread maker. Where does that phrase come from? It’s nearly February.”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” Chant three
“A bread maker? Geez I’ve never seen such a thing.”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” Call four.
“Sure smells good. Is it ready yet? I think it comes from 'Olive the Other Reindeer' movie.”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” Shout five at an ever increasing volume.
“Another couple of minutes, you can see it on the display, the LED.” Little faces peer with interest through the little glass window at the billowy loaf.
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” They’re stuck, all of them.
“Can you eat it?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“Most certainly, in just a few secs. What comes after stereo? If there’s five of them, it can’t be quadraphonic?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” They repeat.
“I don’t know, but it sure is loud. Can it be our snack?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” I’m used to 2 repeating a phrase. I have adapted to 4 children repeating a phrase, once a week, on a Friday afternoon. I incapable of adjusting to 5 children repeating the same phrase with the required immediacy. I glance at my ear plugs with longing.
“Of course.”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!” Despite the noise, folklore infiltrates my troubled mind: ‘sing out of season, get trouble without reason.’ It has a whole new significance.
“Why is it so……..hot? And why are they so loud?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“Because it’s cooking and because there’s five of them. O.k. you can say that three more times and then I don’t want to hear it again. Deal?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“You cook bread?”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“Yes, or rather bake.”
“Christmas! Bah boogie home!”
“Times up guys. Time to choose another phrase.” I lift the bread out and envelop everyone in a cloud of steam. They all take a step backwards as I wield the bread knife and place a slice on each plate. The girls leap on the loot to take it to the table. We are all assembled, a jug, ice free awaits with tumblers. We eat the diet of cell mates, free of a chain gang, all seven on bread and water.

Silent munching reigns for a few moments……before they start, again.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle bells………”




New post up on "Alien."

Superbowl Sunday, it's certainly not cricket

“Go Pirates!”
“Not ‘pirates’ dear, ‘Patriots.’”
“Oh yeah.”
“Go Gians!”
“Giants dear.”
“At least they’re impartial.”
"Do we have to watch this?"
"Yes, the whole of America is watching this, it's part of your......cultural heritage."
"Yes.....your annual chance to feel at one with your fellow country....persons."
"So which one is which?"
"Er....I'm not sure."
"Hush a minute. Let's listen to what the compere has to say."
"Compere? I don't think....."
"Hush!"
"What did he say?"
"Don't know, couldn't understand a word of it."
"I know, lets put the subtitles on, see if that helps."
"Good idea."
"It's basically just rugby but slower right?"
"No, not really. Actually, not at all. Rugby is for men!"
"Did you actually say that out loud?"
"I did."
"Oh I forgot you used to be a rugger....er.....play rugby."
"When are we gonna have snacks?"
"Hush it's hardly even started yet."
"Who are you rootin for?"
"I don't know yet. I'm going to wait until we see them."
"Why?"
"I choose by colour."
"Blue is beed my favourite."
"Hmmm o.k. well in that case I vote for the white chaps with the red numbers."
"Vote?"
"Giants for mom then."
"Dah Nu England Patriots are be mine."
"Do they come from New England?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"If the Patriots are from New England, where are the Giants from?"
"Nu York."
"Really?"
"Yes dat is why that are beed called dah Nu York Giants."
"Ah. You have been paying attention."
"Are they playing in New York? Where is the Superbowl stadium anyway?"
"Er...it Glendale."
"How many Glendales are there? You know how it is out here, they'll be dozens of them. Which State, exactly?"
"It be exactly in Arizona."
"Oh that bit."
"Not 'bit,' it be 'State.'"
"Why is it dark?"
"Because it's in Arizona."
"Fair enough."
"Hey dat looks like a Transformer!"
"Ooo yes, how strange."
"Shiny, shiny, shiny."
"Why are they lying down?"
"He hurt himself, look!"
"What are we supposed to be singing?"
"I don't know. They don't seem to be chanting anything."
"Why not?"
"I've no idea."
"What be 'chant'?"
"Songs, singing."
"Dey are been done singing."
"No not the National Anthem.....other.....singing?"
"No singing, it be football."
"What I don't understand is how anyone can have a party and pay attention?"
"Well it is three hours."
"Three hours? Are you quite sure?"
"Yes."
"Good grief, they must be awfully fit to be able to run around for three hours."
"They are......but they don't actually run around for the whole three hours."
"What do they do for the rest of the time?"
"Lie down and be hurted."
"Hmmm."

.............

"I'll just put the kettle on for a pot of tea whilst Tom Petty's playing. I thought they had Cheerleaders at half time?"
"Budweiser, Budweiser, Budweiser."
"When are we havin our traditional snacks?"
"What are traditional snacks?"
"I don't know."
"Do mushroom turnovers and Vegetable Shu Mai count?"
"Must do. Bought them at Trader Joes."
"Keep it down Dad, I'm tryin ta fink here."
"Ooo! I wonder if that's where the term 'time out' originated from?"
"Maybe?"
"They should make it part of the Citizen's Examination."
"What?"
"How do you play American football? If you can't tell us then you can't be a citizen."
"We'd be deported."
"Maybe we should have a party next year?"
"I don't think anyone would come."
"We should invite an American, some Americans. Someone who can tell us what's going on."
"Then they'll definitely not come."
"We are be Americans!"

Well, in spirit, maybe? At least they won't grow up to be rugger buggas! Perhaps I mean rutabagas?






























We hope to do better next year, we parents that is to say.

New post up on "Alien."

Tag, you are all it!

Delightful "Angela" over at "Memoirs of a Chaotic Mommy" decided to be a little devil, belie her name and challenge me to this meme.

1) Answer the questions below
2) Take each answer and type it into Photobucket
3) Take a picture from the first page of results copy the html code.
4) You can’t copy the persons answers who posted this before you!


1. The age you will be on your next birthday:




2. A place you’d like to travel:




3. Your favorite place:



4. Your favorite object:



5. Your favorite food:



6. Your favorite animal:



7. Your favorite color:



8. The town in which you were born:



9. The town you live in:



10. The name of your pet:



AND



11. The first name of your love:



12. Your nickname:



13. Your middle name:



14. Your last name:



AND



OR THE NEAREST I CAN GET IF I SKIP THE HYPHEN


15. A bad habit of yours:



16. Your first job:



I was only 14 but we believe in sending the youth of today out early.

17. Your grandmother’s name:



AND



18. Your favorite book:



So there you go, not as tricky as I thought it was going to be. I'll not tag anyone but if anyone has a go, let me know. I also know that there are a lot of moaning minnies around complaining that they have nothing to write about.......you know who you are!

Cheers dearies