Thursday, July 17, 2008

Okay, admittedly, not so funny tonight

He had a terrible, acidic bowel movement that burned his skin very, very badly. He wouldn't let me touch him to clean it up, so I let him stand in the tub and poored cold water over it. That seemed to make it worse. He SCREAMED AND SCREAMED AND SCREAMED. Worse than he's ever done before. He was screaming "No Momma," "Go away Momma," "I'm sad Momma."

I could just die. The poor kid. This has happened before but not in years, and he was at a new camp this afternoon so I'm not sure if he ate something there that didn't agree with him. What the teacher told me he had to eat wasn't out of the norm for him, and his dinner wasn't anything too different (his limited pallet actually makes it easy to track what he eats), less easy though to figure out what went so terribly wrong in his little system.

I needed to clean him up, and I did the best I could (I am an official child torturer). He just lay there crying and hugging me saying "I'm sad momma, owie owie owie, night night mama." Translated it means "wow I'm in terrible pain mom, it's making me very upset, and I just want to go to sleep." Which is where he is now, and I am heading as well.

One thing though, a little side note.....right before it happened he was walking around in tighty whitey underwear with his daddy's white knee socks pulled all the way up his legs, another smaller pair of socks on his hands, and another pair of tighty whiteys on his head. I believe, based on the way he was playing, that he believed he was dressed as an astronaut - an astronaut from planet underwear :-)

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Been a While Gone

Woah, I let this blog begin and then I let it end rather abruptly. But I am going to make an effort to be back. We moved states, which meant moving schools, therapies, jobs, friends, families...pretty much everything. And Thank God because we have had nothing but really serendipitous fate since we arrived. An autism insurance bill passed in Florida that will, by April of 2009, allow my son to qualify for up tp $36,000 a year towards therapies. He's lucked out with great teachers, doctors, and therapists.

The anxiety about the bird attack just melted away. He spent almost a year of his life being terrified of being outside. That was his pattern in Virginia even up until we left. It was when he got back here and saw the beach again for the first time (luckily there were not many birds out that day). He was so mesmerized by the water and the sand that he just decided not to be afraid anymore. I could literally see those thoughts pass over his face. He made the choice to deal with the fear because the fun part was so worth it. That's what he's been doing since. He's been on the beach playing every chance he gets, with only a small amount of trepidation when birds come close. I've told him to just yell "Go Away Birds" which he does, but it sounds like "GOWAYSHIRD" Still works though. He's also swimming in our home pool like a fish, and he's loving being close to so much family.

Oh, and he has officially morphed into a cowboy/monster/pirate this summer. He puts on a Woody the cowboy costume with hat and all, then puts a skull mask over his face, a pirate's eye patch over that, and then he carries a fake pirate sword. He runs around screaming "Yee-Haw" and "AAAARRRRRRGGGH" (like a pirate) all day. Why be one thing when you can be them all at once?

He's keeping me laughing :-)

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Tell Momma She's Pretty!

A while ago my son was asking for a popsicle. He uses sign language to ask me, but he usually only does the sign for popsicle, so I make him sign a whole sentence, "I WANT a POPSICLE." For some reason in the middle of his sentence that day he signed the words "pretty" and "mom." Needless to say, I gave him a popsicle.
Now it has turned into a joke in our house. You want a drink? Tell momma she's pretty...
You're hungry? Tell momma she's pretty...
He always does it too, and he laughs about it every time.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

The Terrible Incident of the Hungry Attack Seagull

Of all the kids on all the beaches, this seagull had to choose mine to attack.

Getting Jeffrey onto the beach was a huge feat. He's been afraid of large bodies of water for what seems forever. But on our trip last Christmas to Florida my parents and I tried one day to take him out there and he LOVED it. He ran up and down chasing the water line, collecting was great, so the next day we, of course, packed up a days worth of beach things, planning on spending the whole day on the beach. We had towels, bathing suits, an umbrella, drinks, and..this is the kicker - crackers. My mom brought crackers - Cheez-Its.

We got onto the beach without any problems. Jeffrey was excited, playing in the sand, collecting seashells. Then my mom handed him a cracker.

He had it on the tip of his tongue when, from out of what I can only imagine is some sort of bird hell where bird demons go to rest between attacks, an orange beaked, black faced nightmare of a seagull swooped in and literally tried to take the cracker out of his mouth. The whole time it was making that terrifying "CAW CAW CAW" sound and flapping its wings...I'm telling you this bird was DETERMINED to get that cracker. There was probably only millimeters between its nasty orange beak and my son's tongue.

The worst thing though (if it is possible to get worse) is that I could see them make eye contact. Not only did my baby have this demon of a bird trying to pluck out his tongue, he looked in it's terrible eyes and I swear that bird looked back into his CAW CAWing the entire time.

Okay, this is when things go a little crazy.

Of course he screamed and ran away. And of course I ran after him. Sadly, he didn't go anywhere. He just ran in circles, and even more sadly I ran after him, and couldn't catch him. The whole time we were screaming, both of us frantic and in a flurry of those damn black faced demon seagulls swirling all around us.

My mom? She sat there watching us, holding a box of Cheez-Its.

The Asian family sitting a few yards away from us?

They also sat quietly, probably laughing a little, but I was too frantic to notice.

Needless to say, we left the beach that day. We kept trying to go back but it wasn't happening. He even became afraid of just being outside. His eyes would scan the sky for birds and he would run back inside when he saw one.

My Christmas was spent with visions of bee bee guns and bloody black faced, orange beaked birds dancing in my head.

Fast forward a year. He spent the whole year afraid and then one night he happened to see Harry Potter getting pecked by an owl on television.

He ran out of the room and came back with a bird doll, which I hadn't seen in more than a year (I think he'd hidden it somewhere) and then for three days he walked around pretending to peck everything and laughing...

including his own tongue.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Piles of Fun

My son is five and I've noticed that lately his bedroom resembles a teenager's. It's a pigsty. He's obsessed with little things, little toys, little objects from around the house, and his floor is covered in them. Everyday I make him go through the routine of at least arranging the little objects in corners and, yes, sometimes I do it for him just to make a pathway to walk through.

I noticed last night that there was a bit of a method to his chaos. Amongst the garden of toys on his floor I noticed that there were three birds next to three trains.

Hmm...I thought, is this mess really a mess or am I just missing the point?

Then, tonight I walked into my bedroom and I was faced with my answer.

My mirror was lying on the floor and on top of it there was a very neatly placed pile. It consisted of a remote control, a tape measure, a small cardboard box, an empty Skittles package, a Jane Austin novel, and a dirty sock.

I stopped in my tracks. You see, I do not keep any of these things together, nor do I save things like empty Skittles packages. He had to tap a number of resources around our house to come up with this creation.
I called my husband in to see and he called in Jeffrey.

Jeffrey can't talk but he imitates sounds in speech. He saw that we were looking at his pile of fun and he pointed at it and said what may have been, "I did that."

He smiled, proud of his work.

Little did I know that my house isn't really a mess, it's a gallery.