Figuring out what I wanna be when I grow up.
Oop..I AM grown up...


Thursday, May 31, 2012

Been thinking

Calling All Angels by Train on Grooveshark


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Cody McCasland


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Terry Fox 1958-1981














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I won't give up, if you don't give up.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Calling All Spectrum Moms and Dads

oh, but don't get too excited Jack.
You still have a bazillion days of school left first.



I've been a little scarce lately.  Things have been a little stressful, and this all leads to BURNOUT.

Good old burnout. It's an old friend.  I had the most horrendous day on Saturday.  I've been finding lately that most Saturdays my son is nearly unlivable.  He runs anywhere from being lovable, to being completely obnoxious, to being an unbearable pest, to belligerent, to physically aggressive, combative, and utterly relentless.

I was trapped at home all day too, because The Man was gone out.  All day. He didn't get home till very, very late.  I don't begrudge him a day off.  We both need them.  I'm glad he went out and had fun, but I don't know if people with "neurotypical" kids get it when I say that I truly am trapped when I'm at home with the kids.  And all I wanted to do was go out and buy a trellis for my new clematis that is as yet waiting to be planted.

Oh wait--I could go out...if I wanted to have a 20 minute fight complete with screaming, pleading, wailing, sobbing, biting and hitting. But I like to keep the peace, so I give in and stay home.

Peace?  What peace?  While I was home, I endured Jack's obsessiveness, him constantly badgering me, and a nice time-out that ended with a chunk of plaster getting knocked out of the wall.  Luckily we don't always have days this bad.

And then, on Sunday?  POOF!  MAGIC!  Jack is back to being his sweet, lovable, fun self.  I am guessing that Saturdays are a write off because it's the upheaval day; the transition from the rigidly scheduled week, to the scattered, haphazard weekend.

But this is all just me babbling on.

What I really want to talk about is THE END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR.  Here, we still have one month left of school.  There are about 23 school days left.  We're in the "home stretch", right?

Wrong.

It's driving Jack CRAZY.  He still doesn't have a solid grasp of the whole "time" concept.  He understands that tomorrow is a new day.  He understands the order of the days of one week.  He understands that after several days of suffering through school, a weekend will show up.  He does not understand how long 23 days is.

To him, I might as well have said:  "JACK, YOU HAVE 1346494934929292976464621 DAYS OF SCHOOL LEFT."

It's making the kid nuts.  It's like a giant, golden carrot is being dangled over his head.  The prize is right there!  All things at school are telling him that it's almost done.  The end is near.  But when?  When is summer vacation going to come?

The kid is having trouble falling asleep at night.  As he lays in his bed, in agony, flipped over on his scrunched blankets with his head at the foot end, twitching and jerking in despair, asking me  WHEN, WHEN, WHEN is summer vacation?!?  I just don't know what to do.

So,

I'm asking you, parents of kids on the spectrum:  how do you handle this end of school conundrum?!?  Do you just use patience?  Do you just try to take it one day at a time?  How do you get your kids to the end of the school year with as little anxiety as possible???  Do you use special calendars?  Do you have reward systems?

Seriously, let me know.  I'd love to hear from you.

Friday, May 25, 2012

The Smell Of Family

An Uncle of mine died two weeks ago.  

He was my Mother's brother.  In the past four years, we have lost three members of my Mom's family.  My grandfather died a long time ago.  So, all that's left in this family now are my two aunts, one of whom had us all over for dinner this evening.  

I've talked about my Polish grandmother before.  I live in her house now.  I've been trying to recreate her pierogies.  I still miss her.  

As I was at my aunt's tonight, there were so many familiar...things.  My aunt bought chocolate bars for all the kids--just like my Mom would have done.  She also remembered that Jack likes mint chocolate.  She had a piece of cake sliced, wrapped, and on a paper plate for me to take home, because it's my favourite coconut cake--like my Mom would have done.  

We sat and reminisced about my uncle:  his dry wit, his notorious lack of patience, that crazy little sport car he had with NO leg room for anyone in the back seat.  There were lots of photos, from fairly recent all the way back to my brother and I being small kids, to the old black and white photos when my Mother and her family were young.  

But what really grabbed me was the food.  


When all the food was set out, and we were invited to come and eat, I was delighted, and almost relieved in a strange way.  The food smelled Polish.  How can I describe it?  My aunt made fried chicken, and potato salad, and a cucumber and tomato salad, and sausages and peppers and cabbage rolls.  And it all just smelled Polish.  

There is a certain ineffable quality to the food I grew up with at special occasions and when we came to Grandma's house.  It was the Christmas dinner table all set.  It was Grandma's house.  It was the smell of cooked cabbage and onions fried in butter, and something pickled and sour. It was something delicious that took a long time to make.  Something special that most other families weren't lucky enough to eat. 

I haven't had cabbage rolls in a long time.  I've never made them myself yet.  I'm going to have to learn.  

I don't know.  There are people in my life who are disappearing now.  I'm old enough.  It's that circle of life.  When only my brother and sister and I are left, where will that intangible quality of "Polish" go?  

Tonight, as we remembered my Uncle, those feelings of the past and the present were all very close together, mingled and woven through with that mysterious smell of family.  





Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Cup Of Yecchh

WARNING:  EXTREMELY IMMATURE, GRODY, INCORRIGIBLE POST AHEAD, WITH BAD, AND RATHER TASTELESS ILLUSTRATIONS.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.  PREFERABLY NOT WHILE EATING A TURKEY SANDWICH, OR ANY OTHER SANDWICH OF CHOICE.  

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

I'm going to have to rename my period.

Instead of calling it my "LADY TSUNAMI," which is APT, I'm going to perhaps change the name to "UP CLOSE AND SUPER PERSONAL WITH MY VA-GEE-GEE."  But that's too long.

Oh well, whatever.

Okay, so recently, before my red buddy arrived, I was at the health food store picking up a new bottle of THE SUPPLEMENT.  You know; those magical pills that keep me from murdering someone during PMS time?  And while I was in there, I happened to see THESE:


www.divacup.com


And then I heard the voice of Sherilinnie in my head, which came from one of my last posts complaining about maxi pads and whatnot (AGAIN.  I was complaining AGAIN.  It's what I do).  She said something to the effect of  JUST SHUT UP AND BUY THE DIVA CUP AND BE DONE WITH IT ALREADY.  Sherilin talks about her experiences with the cup HERE  and holy crap, I can't believe she talked about it almost a year ago.

Anyhoo, so I saw that cup was on sale.  Thirty two bucks.  And I thought F♥CK IT.  I'M TAKING THE LEAP.  Or the plunge, as it were.

But which to choose?  Diva cup 1, or Diva Cup 2??

Cup 1 sez:  "For women under 30 years old who have never delivered vaginally or by c-section."

Cup 2 sez:  "For women over 30 who have had kids, and now have giant, frigging, monster-sized vaginas."

or something like that.  Here, I have arted for you what would happen if I chose the dainty size 1:


That's me, walking along in my jammies, with no gitch on, obvs.  See how much I lurv you guys?  I drew the cup EMPTY.


And here's a picture of a little man, celebrating having made it to the top of Crotch Mountain.





There's no real reason to include this picture, but I thought it was some quality art on my part.


Moving right along, I bought the more substantial size # 2 cup, and brought it home as quickly as I could, so I could horrify The Man and Ella.

And here is the scene that ensued:


Me:  Look Ella!  This is what grownup ladies put in their hoohoos when they have their periods!

The Man looks at the Diva Cup with a mixture of horror and revulsion.

The Man:  "How big is it?!?  Is that going to be comfortable???"

Me:  "I don't know.  Look at the how-to diagram on the side!"



simply fold GIANT CUP in half and CRAM IT, LADIES!
 The Man:  "Uhh!!  I don't even want to know."

Me:  "If it doesn't work, it'll be your SHOT GLASS!"

Me:  CHORTLE CHORTLE CHORTLE

Me:  "If it doesn't work, it'll be your JUICE CUP!"

Ella:  "Yeah Dad!  Don't drink the--(in a loud, confidential whisper to me:  "what's the 'red pee-pee' called?")

Me:  "No honey.  Don't make jokes to Daddy about drinking 'red pee-pee'."

Ella:  "YEAH, AND DON'T DRINK THE RED PEE-PEE!"

And then Ella and I held each other and GUFFAWED.

The Man:  "Won't you be squeamish?"

Me:  "No.  Honey, I've been handling my junk for years."

The Man:  "You better watch you don't drop it."

Me:  "I hope I drop it on you!  YEAH!!!  IT'LL BE LIKE A SCENE FROM CARRIE!!!"





The Man:  "Gross."


Don't worry.  The Man and girlie have recovered.

So, then finally, along came my period.  And I was forced to use this thing.  I was actually forced to squat in the hall, outside the only bathroom we have, because one of the kids was taking a bath to insert it that first time.  Such is life.

Okay, I followed instructions, folded the flexible silicone cup into a u-fold, aimed for my tail bone, er, you know, gave er' a twist so the cup opened up, farted around with some minor adjustments and blah, blah, blah.  There, I said to myself.  Success!

And then my brain started shrieking:

I DON'T LIKE IT.  GET IT OUT.  I HATE IT.  I AM AWARE OF IT.  GET IT OUT NOW.  IT'S TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT.  IT'S WEIRD.  IT'S A TOTALLY ALIEN CONCEPT.  YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE TAMPONS.  I CAN FEEL IT IN THERE, LIKE A FOREIGN BODY.  WHAT IF THIS THING GIVES ME CANCER.  CAN THIS THING GIVE ME CANCER?  OH DEAR GOD, I JUST WANT A FREAKING MAXI PAD!!!

And then I calmed down.  The, the next time I...er...emptied it, I realised, that--waaait a minute--this is kind of cool!  Think of how many pads I've already saved by wearing it a whole day!

Then I felt ... EMPOWERED!  LIKE I HAD A BRILLIANT SECRET!  LIKE I WAS A MODERN WOMAN!  Ha!  I'd thrown off the shackles of 29 years of maxi pads!



I was actually going to stop contributing to MAXI PAD MOUNTAIN!  And just think:  in ONE YEAR, I WILL RECOUP THE MONEY I HAVE SPENT ON THIS DIVA CUP--

noise of the needle on the record scrrrreeeeech....


Yeah.  I have to use this thing for almost an entire year in order to save money.  Oh come on.  You can do the math with me.  Say the average bag of pads costs six bucks.  Let's say I use that whole bag of pads for one period.  But I don't.  I probably used about half the bag per period...

Oh, math is BORING.

You get the gist.

But I have to say, I've been using it for several days, and it's worked FABULOUSLY.  Next to no leak problems, as I'm getting to know the thing.  I wore it overnight and SLEPT ON MY BACK, PEOPLE.

So what's the biggest problem?  It's WEIRD.  It's a radically different idea (for me) from maxi pads--or any traditional feminine protection products.  Plus, as I'm hunkered down, giving that cup a twirl, and getting the cup just right, and swiping a discreet finger over my crotch to make sure it's all centered and shit, I'm getting really sick of my lady bits.  Seriously--I just want to wash that buddy in the morning, and have little else to do with it for the greater part of the day.

Oh!  And I can finally track MILLILITERS (or ounces, my American friends.  It also has those measures on it), which is--I'M SORRY, BUT IT IS-- WAY COOL.

So, over all, I have to say SUPER WIN!  I'm all clean now!  And I didn't have to resort to mister evil TAMPON, which I think is UNNATURAL, and PLUGS YOU UP, instead of letting you FLOW FREELY, AS YOU ARE OUGHT, and comes with a nasty risk of TOXIC SHOCK SYNDROME!


Jerk.

what'd I ever do to YOU???

and I didn't have to deal with this bunchy  a$$hole:




So, all in all!   WIN!  THE CUP IS MADE OF WIN!

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Cups and Cups and Cups of FUN

you don't put WHISKY in it, that's for sure

OH LADIES (and uniquely brave mens)!!  

I can't WAIT to talk about this!  But, I have to go out and hunt down a particular plant for my window boxes.  

So,

you'll have to come back!  HOORAY!

Stay tuned!

lurv,

karen

xoxoxoxo

Friday, May 18, 2012

Begonias

Begonias for my mother!


What is YOUR favourite flower?











































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