Initiate Play

initiate - to cause or facilitate the beginning of: set going

play - a recreational activity especially: the spontaneous activity of children

Mommy Mommy I want to play Ring Around the Rosie, Ashles Ashles (DIVA speak, not a typo) we all fall down is the DIVA's new favorite game. She wants to play with everyone. No one is spared a turn. Not even Boy Wonder. 

In 3 days, she taught him how to play Ring Around the Rosie. He laughs and holds hands and turns in a circle. He loves it. He loves it so much that when the DIVA decided she was done playing the other day, he walked up to Big Daddy and said, "I want to play, please."

Late by 4 years, he has hit his developmental milestone of initiating play. Better late then never.

Uninspired/Inspired

Words of encouragement give lift to a heavy heart

I've been forcing myself out the door to run lately. I've been hitting the snooze button. Shaving off a mile here or there. I've been uninspired to run and I've run angry and fearful. That is not the kind of running that I love to do.  I had forgotten why I started training for this marathon in the first place.

But then on Saturday, I was off to visit the village.  I got off to a late start because of a scary incident with Boy Wonder and finally was off to get my guuurll, C. and drive off Thelma and Louise style. (Sorry Brad Pitt does not make an appearance.) And on the Merritt Parkway, I lost it, at 80 mph, because once in a while the enormity of what has become my life can still sneak up and overwhelm me when I least expect it.  And C. keeps her cool and talks me off the ledge because she gets what I'm saying and more importantly, what I'm not saying.

C. and I arrive and everyone else begins to show up too. There's hugs and so good to see yous before we all settle in to chat, laugh, cry, coin new catchphrases (that's a celery flower, bitch), cheer each other up and umm maybe there was some singing. And but most importantly we talk about our kids triumphs and what they're doing and I'm reminded again who I'm running for because it's not about me. And my friends tell they are proud of me for running for our kids and for me it' so small compared to what they've done for me. 

And this morning, I ran inspired on happy feet. Inspired by women, who snort, honk, cluck and moo and who just get it.  And who sent me on my way Sunday morning with a remembrance of what friendship and a giant metal chicken can do.

My Guuuurrrrlllllll

It's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.

~Marlene Dietrich

This time last year I hadn't even met her. No clue she existed. We'd both been invited to an autism mama gathering. The host let us know we'd both be on the same train and introduced us. We exchanged a  few lots of hilarious texts. I got on the train in Newark Penn. She was waiting in New York Penn. She keeps telling me I'm going to miss the train. I say I'm on the train. She gets on the train and we act like silly teenagers. Comparing notes and stories. Laughing like lunatics.

My phone rings. It's Big Daddy. He says,"Sweet Baby Girl ate rock salt." I say,"Um yeah?" She says,"Why is he calling you? Tell him to call Poison Control." He hangs up and calls back a few minutes later. Poison Control said no big deal.

Big Daddy then made a fatal mistake which sealed her and I together forever.  Big Daddy says, "I tasted it. It was really salty." Me,"You tasted what?" Him,"the rock salt." Me," You tasted the rock salt!!!! WTF!! Why?" C says,"Your husband ate rock salt!!! WTF!!!" Cue hysterical laughter. 

C., you are a smart, amazing, funny, beautiful, talented, loving and compassionate person. I'll be the Ethel to your Lucy anytime. Aunt Jersey to your kids and a thorn in your husband's side.  I've got tarp, a shovel and a chicken. I've got your back like you've had mine. 

And Dude, MY HUSBAND EATS ROCK SALT!!!

Pushing On

Editor's note: This was originally published elsewhere in April of 2010. 

I'm reposting it here for my mamas who are just getting back into a healthy lifestyle. I'm proud of you. 

*Inspired in part by Luau. Go see him!

4:07 a.m. Alarm

4:15 a.m. the whir of the elliptical trainer begins and the angry rock music starts blaring from the iPod.

5 minutes in the sweating starts and the demons start to loosen their death grip.

10 minutes in faster I go. Hopelessness just lost his grip.

15 minutes in the sweat starts to pour as I turn up the resistance and raise the incline. Rage falls away.

2o minutes in breathing hard letting go as Sadness gets crunched in the fly wheel.

25 to 5o minutes in the zone. No thoughts other then pushing on and through the fire as my legs burn.

50 to 55 minutes I begin to slow down as  the sky begins to lighten and I hear one or another of my little tribe of hooligans begin to stir.

Why you ask? For my sanity and health so I can be here for them because who will care for Boy Wonder when I’m gone? I need to be here as long as possible. So I can walk the walk of a Special Needs Mommy. So I can breathe deeply and calmly when chaos seems to rule the day. To set an example for my girls that a strong woman is a beautiful thing and that weak and helpless isn’t cute. So I push on each and every day for myself but mostly for them.

Six

It.....

happened.....

 in....

 the......

 blink.....

of.....

 an....

eye!!!!!

Six!!!!

Happy 6th Birthday to our Amazing Boy Wonder!

We Love You!!

Mommy, Daddy, THE DIVA and Sweet Baby Girl

Why Mommy?

The DIVA asks............


Mommy, why does he yell AAAHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Mommy, why won't he use his words?

Mommy, why does he bite his hand?

Mommy, why does he cry so hard?

Mommy, why does he rip up your books?

Mommy, why does he run in circles?

Mommy, why won't he play with me?

Mommy, why is he scared of the worm on the Wonder Pets?

Mommy, why won't he keep his clothes on?

Boy Wonder has Autism, DIVA. He can't help it. He's trying really hard.

Mommy, why does he have that?

I don't know, DIVA. He just does. 

Mommy, why don't you make him better?

I'm trying, DIVA.