Christmas miracles

My kids have been looking forward to Christmas since Halloween. More specifically, they have been on tenterhooks waiting for the day when we can finally decorate the Christmas tree. I don't know exactly why, but the prospect of tree trimming holds almost as much excitement and magic as presents do. And that is saying a lot.

I know I have mentioned this before, but decorating the tree is one of my favorite Christmas traditions. I am not entirely sure why. I am not typically very into the decoration of anything, let alone a tree that will be taken down in a month (ok, when I say "a month" I mean more like two months, but let's not get all picky here). Yet decorating the tree has always, since I was a kid, been one of my favorite parts of Christmas. Even when I was older and the tradition no longer held any interest for my siblings, I still looked forward to it

And doing it now with my kids? Makes it so much more fun for me. Because they are the only two humans on this earth who get as excited as I do at the prospect. They never tire of hanging yet one more snowman on the tree and they get a real kick out of some of the stories behind the ornaments.

Still, I was worried that there would be conflict this year, as it is the first time Charlotte has been interested in helping us decorate. That means that Danny would have to share some of the more coveted decorations, including the piece de resistance: our golden sparkly star. The kids have been debating all week who would receive the honor of placing the star in its place. (When I say "debating" I really mean screaming at each other endlessly).

I may have mentioned before that Danny and Charlotte have, on occasion, bickered and argued. (When I say "on occasion" I mean they spend about 85% of their waking hours fighting over something.) They fight over the dumbest things, too. It drives me nuts, but I am sure it is a bit of karma biting me in the rear end for the endless fighting I did with my siblings as a kid, teenager and young adult.

So, I geared up for possible squabbling and bickering, and this is what I heard instead:

"Hey, Charlotte, here's an ornament for you."

"Thank you, Danny. You are a good sharer."

"Mommy, I love Christmas. I love our tree. It's so beautiful."

"Charlotte can have the star if she wants it."

"Here, mommy, you can have this one."

Yes, my kids decorated in peace and harmony. No one fought over a single ornament, not even the star.

Do I believe in Christmas miracles?

Yes, yes I do.

transcript of a stirring and intellectually stimulating conversation or welcome to my world

Here's what Charlotte's and my conversation sounded like today on the way to the grocery store.

Char: Look, mommy, I spy balloons.

Me: Yeah, and I spy some cows (we live in the country, people)

Char: I spy a tree.

Me: And I spy a pumpkin.

Char: I spy a Christmas tree.

Me: Yes, and I spy a flag.

Char: I spy a tree.

Char: I spy a pine tree.

Char: Mommy, I spy a brown tree.

Me: Uh huh.

Char: I spy a green tree!

Char: Look, there's another tree!

Me: You're right. But look at that dog.

Char: Mommy, mommy, look at the tree!

Char: I spy a naked tree.

Me: Yes and I spy a house.

Char: Look, I spy another brown tree.

Char: And there's another one! I spy a tree, mommy! There's a tree. And there's a yellow tree, mommy. Mommy, mommy, look at the TREES!

That's when I turned on the radio.

our good news!

Two weeks ago, Bil got a job offer. A really good offer with a really good company. He will be working as a software engineer at a dental software company in town, so not only will he have a job he's always wanted to do, but he will have a ten-minute commute (as opposed to his roundtrip commute of almost 2 hours).

But the best part? He'll be working days. Days! Bil will be home by 5:30!! And even when he has to work late, he should be home well before 1 AM. Can you believe it? we have been so blessed, beyond our expectations.

I can't wait!

random thoughts Tuesday: facebook, babies and flatulence

*** I took delight in watching Tommy, my eight-month-old baby, this evening after bath time. I let him hang out naked for a bit tonight because he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. (Just one more way he resembles his father.)

As he rolled around on the floor cooing and burbling, I noticed that all the incredibly cute things I was exclaiming over would be completely repulsive had Tommy been an adult. For example, I laughed at the way he drooled so much that long strings of spit dangled from his mouth all the way to the floor. I know. Totally adorable, right?

Then, he let loose a whole series of farts that were nothing less than charming. Even

when he spits up all over me, I usually just laugh it off in a "babies will be babies" kind of way. And when he burps? Yeah, we often praise and congratulate him. And don't even get me started on his rolls of fat and "cankles" (legs that are so fat the calves and ankles are basically indistinguishable). I love them.

But tonight the unfairness hit me. I mean, why is it that only babies are adorable when they have rolls of flesh all over their bodies? Why can't adults be fat, jolly and flatulent and still be super popular?

Because man, could I be popular....

*** Speaking of popularity, I find Facebook a really fascinating phenomenon. Not only is it a great way to reconnect with long lost friends, but it's also the place to get back in touch with every single acquaintance you have ever made and forgotten about in your entire life. I swear

my memory must be even worse than I think it is, because I keep getting friend requests from people I don't remember. I mean, I might remember their name, but cannot for the life of me remember much else about the friend of the guy I dated my sophomore year of high school.

Also, I must have a different memory of what happened years ago. That's the only way I can explain why I have gotten a friend request from a girl who was actually seriously mean to

me in junior high. While I don't think I harbor any grudges, I don't see why I would actually want

to be privy to S's daily ramblings after she made me cry every single day of the 7th grade.

Unless of course, her daily ramblings reveal that she has gained 300 pounds, works at a toll booth, and has no love in her life.

Kidding.

I am just kidding. Sheesh. Well, mostly kidding, anyway.

***Another thing I love about Facebook is the quizzes. I am constantly amazed at how many wacko quizzes there are out there. And I admit, I have taken a few of them myself, and have acquired some really interesting information.

For example, I have discovered that according to a Dr. Phil personality quiz, I am a narcissistic, selfish and insensitive person. And let's not forget that I was a gorilla in a past life.

Oh, and "The Office" character I am most like is Kevin Malone. You know, the big, fat, jolly guy who farts all the time. Hmmmm....maybe there is something to these quizzes, after all.

*** My friend Rebecca once commented that Facebook is much like high school. Lots of trying to sound cool and be popular. And I think she is right. I suspected that some people add anyone as friends whether they like the person or not. This was confirmed when Bil created a Facebook page for Dolly, a scary doll that my sister and I pass back and forth.

This doll, along with some much prettier dolls, were bequeathed to us after the death of my aunt. We divvied up the others, but neither of us wanted to claim Dolly as our own. Frankly, she scared the crap out of both of us, as we envisioned her coming to life and killing us in our sleep. What commenced was a game in which we try to pawn the doll off on each other. My sister has hidden Dolly in my underwear drawer, under my car seat, and has even had my mother mail it to me along with Christmas gifts. I, in turn, have stowed Dolly all over her house and have taken delight in the times my sister couldn't find her. The only rule of our game is we cannot hide Dolly in our kids's rooms. You know, just in case she finds herself in possession of a tiny doll knife and goes homicidal.

Because Bil and I are total nerds, and because this game of ours has at times driven my brother-in-law nuts, Bil had the idea to

create a Facebook page for Dolly. We uploaded pictures of her in various parts of my sister's house and posted them on FB for my brother-in-law to see. The funniest part of this rather pathetic story is that when Bil created the FB page for Dolly, he invited several people to add her as a friend. And though none of these people (save my brother-in-law) knew anything about Dolly, they accepted her bid for friendship. It baffles my mind. I mean, seriously. Tell me, after seeing her picture, would you add this scary doll as your friend on FB? I didn't think so.

But, if you are interested, her FB name is "Dolly K. Brown."

I hear she is pretty desperate for friends.

dogs, nudity, and rotten chicken.....or why I love Meals on Wheels

Every couple of weeks, I deliver Meals on Wheels to people in town who are sick or homebound. A woman at church started the route and we all take turns delivering each Wed. It's a pretty easy gig and the people I deliver food to are really sweet.

Besides occasionally getting turned around when I first started, the delivery is pretty straightforward. Still, I have managed to have some dubious adventures in the couple years I have been delivering. A year or two ago, I got a surprising eyeful on what turned out to be an X-rated delivery. A totally naked man exited the bathroom as I handed the meals to his wife. Apparently, he hadn't heard me yelling, "Meals on Wheels" as I knocked on the door. Luckily, that family was not on our route very long, as it was really hard to look the couple in the eye after having seen the husband in all his naked glory.

A couple of weeks ago as I hurried to the apartment of a woman who is deaf, I totally wiped out, sending food packages flying and in the process, scraping up my knees, elbow and hand and tearing an enormous hole in my jeans. Thank goodness they package the food really well; luckily, none of it spilled, which was pretty amazing considering the distance it traveled through the air before landing on the pavement.

Of course, I had to fall right in front of this young guy, who happened to be outside today when I delivered, as well. I doubt he recognized me, though. Don't all soccer moms look the same?

Today was pretty eventful too. It started out when I arrived to deliver food at an apartment complex. I got up to the second floor and was overwhelmed by a terrifically rancid smell. I actually looked around expecting to see steaming piles of feces nearby. The woman I was delivering to was walking down the hall when she spotted me. She mentioned that there had been a really bad smell and it had taken her and the building's maintenance people all weekend to figure out the culprit: a bag of rotting chicken sitting on top of her refrigerator since Friday. As she opened her door, she said, "You can't really smell it anymore, though, can you?"

That's when the stench hit me like a giant nauseating wall of stink. I had great difficulty answering her, as I was trying to breathe through my mouth without gagging. Will I go to hell for lying to her and saying, "Well, maybe just a little"?

Is it a lie or just an under-exaggeration? When I got outside, I gulped down air greedily.

Yeah, it was a total bald-faced lie. Poor Ethel.

Just when I had finally cleared the smell from my nose, I got to a regular on the route. She rarely comes to the door, as she is extremely hard of hearing, so I normally leave the meal on the little table by the door. No matter how loudly I yell "Meals on Wheels," she never seems to hear me, even though her dog is barking up a storm. This time, there were two dogs, and I was worried one would get out as I entered the house. That's all I needed: to have to chase some dog through the neighborhood while the rest of the meals cooled in my car.

Escaping dogs was not what I should have been worried about, however. I should have been so lucky to have the dogs run away. No, instead, one of the pint-sized little canines bit me. Right on the shin bone. And while it didn't break the skin, that little dog did leave a blue bruise on my leg. The puny flea bag. He's lucky I was so surprised, I didn't have the wherewithal to react, because I think my first reaction would have been to drop kick yappy Fido across the room.

Never a dull moment.

**No animals were harmed in the writing of this post, though not for lack of trying on the part of the author.

halloween, wall-e style

Here's a picture of Danny in his Wall-E costume, which I am proud to point out, is 100% recycled materials. No money was spent in the acquisition of this costume . We had so much fun making it, and Danny actually wore it the entire time we were out, which totally surprised me, as it isn't the most comfortable getup out there. Granted, we only trick or treated for 45 minutes, but it was pretty cold out, and everyone was getting tired.

I would share pics of Charlotte, too, but I don't have any in which her face is covered, and I just don't feel comfortable showing my kids' faces here, since I use their names.

things I have learned from Danny and SPD

As October--SPD Awareness Month--is just about over, I thought I would write one more post about Sensory Processing Disorder. Lately, I have been looking at SPD in a more positive light, unlike in times past where I saw it more as a problem or a cross to bear. Though it has added a level of difficulty and challenge to parenting that I often feel unprepared for, I have realized that parenting a child with SPD has taught me many great lessons. Lessons which have made it easier to parent my other children and which have actually helped me enjoy life more. Here are a few of the major ones, in no particular order.

~~Slow down

We all know how frenetic life's pace can get, how full of activities, noise and commitments. I learned early on, though, that Danny cannot handle cramming a hundred and one activities in one day. I had to schedule my days so that we were only getting one or two errands done otherwise, he would have a really difficult time, which of course, made it very difficult, and thus not worth it, for me. He doesn't like to rush around from activity to activity, no matter how fun they might be. Instead, we need to plan for lots of down time.

And you know what? That has been an enormous blessing to my family, because I have realized that really, none of us in the Pancake house does very well when we are scheduled to the max. Also, we have had so many amazingly fun adventures just in the down time when we played together with nowhere else to be.

~~Think outside the box

Parenting a child with SPD is challenging in that your kid probably doesn't fit the mold of "regular kids." Before we knew what was going on with Danny, I scoured countless parenting books trying to figure out why my son would have meltdowns and what I could do about them. None of the books helped, because they were coming from the assumption that kids with meltdowns had discipline problems, whereas Danny's meltdowns were sensory related. Much of the advice given in the books actually exacerbated Danny's problems.

Once we understood SPD a bit more, we were able to help him, but even then we couldn't always find answers in SPD books, because each kid's SPD manifests itself in such unique ways. Instead, we had to get creative, wacky even. We would have regular wrestling matches with Danny and let him jump on our bed in order to get the deep pressure that he craved. We filled a sandbox with beans and kept it in our family room so Danny could get the tactile input he needed. I regularly let the kids roll around in funny foam (foam soap for kids) naked. And so often, a thought will come to me and we follow it, despite its seeming craziness, and it works. Both Bil and I are now much better at thinking outside the box in dealing with parenting issues that we are struggling with.

~~Power of prayer

I know not everyone reading this blog is religious, but I really feel like I need to say something here about prayer, because honestly, without it, I don't know how we would have survived the last few years. I won't detail every time prayer has helped me, because that would take way too much time. Suffice it to say, that there have been many, many times when, at my wits' end, I said a prayer. After the prayer, I would have an idea of how to handle the situation, and the idea was always something just a little bit out there, or something I wouldn't normally think to do in that situation. Whenever I follow that thought, though, it always works.

~~Trust my instincts

Trusting my instincts has never been my strong suit. I habitually second guess myself, especially in instances where my instincts oppose the popular opinion. I often defer to others and their opinion, thinking they must be right and I then must be wrong. Over the years, though, I have realized that my instincts are right. I know my kids. I know when something is wrong, and if I have a strong feeling as to how to help them, I should follow that feeling.

Time and again, this has been brought home to me, even by professionals. I will never forget an appointment with a developmental pediatrician in which she told me that not only was I right in not following some advice given to me by a caring friend, but that had I followed the advice, I probably would have done some damage--Danny most definitely would not have improved his speech, which was what my friend was trying to do, in fact, it probably would have backfired.

~~Honor our limits

Again, I am not so good with saying no to people. I am getting better, because being Danny's parent has helped me see that I need to respect his limits, as well as my own. This goes along with trusting my instincts, as well. Too often, I have said yes to an engagement despite feeling uneasy, and I have always regretted it. Others may think my rules are too strict or weird, but they work for us. For example, I will no longer let an activity or friends keep me from getting my kids to bed on time, and for us, on time is a very early 7:00 during the school year. I know most parents think I am crazy, but my kids fare so much better with lots of sleep (and frankly, so do I). We skip parties sometimes because I know it isn't worth it to get Danny all overstimulated.

~~Go with the flow

One Halloween we took Danny trick or treating at the mall. He was just over 2 years old and we thought he would really enjoy it. Well, Danny ran around the mall for a couple of minutes and then wanted to leave. For a brief moment, I wanted to try and convince him to stay. After all, we had come to the mall with friends and I thought it would be fun. Then, it occurred to me that the point was for Danny to have fun, not me. If being in an overcrowded, noisy mall was hard for him to deal with, then what was the point in staying? So, we left and had a great evening at home with a well-regulated, happy child.

This lesson has not been an easy one for me, but I have learned that it is so important to be flexible. Bil regularly outlines what he calls our "escape route" when we go to parties, which is our plan for how long we will stay and what we will do to make it easier for Danny. And if all else fails, we have a little signal which says that it is time to leave. Because parties are not much fun when you have an overstimulated little boy. Though I have had to miss some fun parties, it has been worth it when we honor Danny's needs. And now that he is older, we have a lot easier time in big groups.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can't really say that I am grateful that Danny has SPD. It is hard for me to see him struggle. Still, I am so grateful Danny is my son. I love him so much and he has taught me a great deal, so many lessons that I need to learn and relearn in order to be a better parent, a better wife, and a better person. And I am so grateful that I have gotten to the point where I can see that SPD is not a curse so much as it is a challenge. A difficult one, but one that can teach us so many great lessons, if we let it.