How Is Paige?

...Let me tell you how Paige is:


Paige is putting frozen peas in the cupboard.

Not. Good.

I Voted

You're welcome, Mr. Obama.



(Dear Dead Family-
You may resume rolling over in your graves.

Dear Alive Family-
You may continue to talk quietly amongst yourselves: "Oh, that Paige. What are we going to do with her?...")

(Added today - 11/3 - as Paige realizes that hitting *save now* is not the same as hitting *publish post*. Duh.)

Alex

It has occurred to me during the past couple of weeks that I haven't properly introduced you to my two new sons yet. As we've been on the topic of Alex, I'll continue with him and then introduce you to Joe.

This is Alex.

Alex is almost 14. He is 2 months older than Mackenzie, still leaving her in her role of the "baby" of the family. Alex is happy, he is sensitive, he is smart - he's smarter than you think; he has a great sense of humor and is quite a teaser. Alex is affectionate - he is a hugger and a toucher. Alex is non-verbal. He uses mostly signs or gestures and his few words to communicate with us. He signs "daddy," he says "ma." He signs drink, bathroom, movie, swim, fish, school, home - he has about 40 signs in all, including special signs for Joe and Mackenzie. He has about 15 words, including doggy, home, please, and no & why which he saves for those special occasions when we are lulled into a sense of complacency and we forget that he's our baby, but also a teenager. Alex always wears a ball cap and a plastic wristband on each arm (the current flavor is Livestrong)... always. Alex has autism.


Alex loves to watch movies and he'll watch them over and over if left to his own devices. He thinks Indiana Jones is great, Spiderman & Batman are two of his favorite heroes, and anything with a dog is worth watching, in his opinion. Bob the Builder is a favorite and Bob even has his own sign - simulating a hammering motion, fyi.

Alex loves airplanes and air shows. He owns a truckload of toy airplanes and several airshow DVDs. Evidently, a guy can never have too many airplanes. Naturally, he has a thing for fire trucks and all things fireman - toys, pictures, books, blankets, videos, clothes - you name it, we've got it in a firefighter theme. (All but the dog - we have 2 dogs, neither one with a spot between them.) Alex has a road map rug, facilitating the leaving-around of thousands of matchbox cars. (Watch your step at my house.) Speaking of maps, I keep a map in my car because Alex loves to look at a map (and then usually tells us we need to head to Nebraska or New Mexico or somewhere equally unlikely). Alex loves to play with an old, rotary-dial phone. He gets out the phonebook and calls his friend Ross from school. Sometimes he calls his mom or his grandma.


Alex really only wants to drink Diet Root Beer. In the morning, we can talk him into chocolate milk, and recently we've been able to sneak in some water enhanced with a flavoring. He doesn't like ice cream because it's too cold, but loves a vanilla milkshake. Alex will eat just about anything. He LOVES him some chips & salsa, sugar snap peas, and corn on the cob, but his absolute favorite is crab and will eat an adult portion at a restaurant (and then some - watch your plate).

Alex's favorite person in the whole world is his dad:


Alex will be starting at Mackenzie's school in a few days. We are hopeful that the new teacher will teach him some new signs, his numbers 1-10, some letters beyond those in his name, and begin to teach him basic but necessary life skills, some which will eventually lead to a vocation, be it bagging groceries or working at a recycling facility (the kid LOVES to recycle). We don't know what the future holds for Alex, but we do know that he will never lead an independent life - he will always need some measure of supervision. For now, we know that Alex will be in school until he's 21, after which we will have to evaluate the possibilities. Being unsure might sound scary, but it's ok - we've got 7 years to decide what we'll do, and until then, we'll just relax and enjoy our family:

7 Days:Day 7: Reunited

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

Yesterday was challenging. What follows is only 1/3 of the issues we dealt with, and only the tip of this iceberg for this issue:

About 6 months ago, it became apparent that Tim's 13-year-old son Alex, who is Autistic and non-verbal, needed something more than what his then-classroom could provide so at the urging of others, we started looking at more specialized and intensive programs. Unfortunately, as our town is middle-sized and not a large city, our choices were limited. After much research and deliberation, we decided on a residential treatment facility in Indianapolis that specializes in Autism. The plan was that he would live at school during the week (with visitors almost every evening) and come home to our home and his mom's home on alternating weekends. This was an intensive intervention to teach him sign language and basic life skills that was to last only a year or two before he would return to our home and pick up with his peers here in the public school system.

At the beginning of September, after much preparation and discussion about the transition, we took him to his new school. During the course of the past 3 1/2 weeks, Alex went from a happy, social boy to a despondent, weepy boy. When we would go visit him during the week, he would sign that he was sick - he wanted to go home and thought his was his ticket out of there. We began to think that he was placed in the wrong unit or the wrong classroom and has asked for a meeting with the school to discuss other options. But when we arrived for our visit on Thursday night, and found his teacher alone in her classroom, we decided to go in and ask her how he was doing. We noticed right away that the colorful and stimulating classroom that we had toured during the summer was barren and sterile. The old teacher had left and this teacher was new. Her responses to our questions were less-than-promising. She stated that he was non-responsive in class, that he had not been using the signs he knows, but that he could pick some out on flash cards. Flash cards? Learning more signs and enhancing his communication was one of the primary reasons he was there. I'm not a teacher, but I know that using flash cards to teach Alex to communicate will not work. We were promised a Sign Language expert and that everyone in contact with Alex would know his signs. This did not happen. The teacher stated that he seemed "spaced out," "lost" and "scared." She said that he had been "targeted" by a couple kids in the class who pinched and shoved him. When asked if she thought Alex belonged in her classroom, she hesitated and couldn't give us an answer. When asked if she could provide us with a daily or weekly update, oddly enough, she didn't even have our email address. We left her classroom knowing that this teacher was incompetent to teach Alex. Disheartened, we went to get Alex out of the Autism Unit to take him off-campus for a milkshake.

At 6pm, we found our boy alone in his room, rocking (as autistic kids will tend to do) in a corner, with the lights and tv off. He had on a dirty shirt, his face was dirty, his hair greasy. He smiled at us when we walked in, but there was a cry right behind that smile. We told him we were taking him for a milkshake. He asked, "Home?" We told him that no, his mom was coming to get him tomorrow - we were just going for a milkshake. Tim changed Alex's shirt and we went to Culver's where he barely engaged with us, leaned into his dad the entire time we were there, and signed that he was sick. On the way back to his school, we called the director of the autism unit and asked for a meeting with him today. It was arranged for 1pm. When we got to the school, we walked around the track a couple of times before taking him back to his room and reading him a story. He didn't want us to go, but we told him that we would be back tomorrow and kissed him goodbye.

Leaving that child there was one of the hardest things we ever had to do. We didn't want to leave him, but we didn't want to react to the situation instead of thinking it through and responding appropriately. A lot of people had jumped thorough a lot of hoops for us to get Alex placed there, in the "best autism treatment center in central Indiana." But by the time we reached our home, we knew we were bringing him home for good today and that no promise the administration could make to us would make us feel like he was safe and well in their care.

Our meeting at 1:00 today was cancelled due to an emergency. Ten minutes after hearing that news, we were in the car on the way to Indy, with empty Rubbermaid boxes in the back. When we walked into the unit at 11:30, we asked Alex, "Want to go home?" He laughed and jumped up and down and said yes. I don't think he understood the magnitude of what we were asking until we took the boxes to his room and I started to put his clothes in one. He watched me for a minute then started grabbing things off his bed - blankie, Mr. Crabs, and his puppet Sammy, and threw them into an empty box. He was going home and he knew it. The boy that we had lost for a month was back. He giggled and laughed and hugged us and smiled all the way home.

He's asleep in the room next to ours as I type. We don't know what the future holds for Alex, but we know that it won't ever be far from us again. We know that we can't provide the best Autism treatment money can buy, but we can provide love and safety and a happy home for him. He's here to stay. This is where he belongs.

7 Days:Day 6: Just Walk Away

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

We had a few family crises today, but nothing we can't handle together. Some things we needed to face head on, some we needed to just walk away from.

7 Days:Day 5: Public/Private

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

Today's theme: Public/Private

7 Days:Day 4: Everything Is A-OK Here

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

We are crazy-busy and perpetually exhausted, but Happy. And that's all that really matters.

7 Days:Day 3: Crackin' Myself Up

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

At first I was fake-laughing for this photo. After about 5 takes, I was laughing for real after realizing both dogs and the cat were watching me with a WTF-look on their faces.

7 Days:Day 2: Twirly

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days. The theme for today was "Action".

And what gets more action than a twirly skirt?

...wait. That didn't sound right.

Anyway, this is Me. Twirling. On my front porch. If you talk to my neighbors, they might say I'm crazy.

7 Days:Day 1: Peace

Hello, Friends! It's time for 7 Days again. It's been 6 months because Tim and I were so busy getting ready for the wedding that I downright forgot the Summer run of 7 Days.

This is my picture for today. It's been so long since I took a self-portrait that I was all sorts of camera-shy today and completely uncomfortable in front of the camera and it shows. Bleh.

That Which Can Be Vacuum Wrapped

Following is an account of the crazy stuff that goes on here...

Tim has a Seal-A-Meal.


He loves it. I do not have a Seal-A-Meal because I don't like stuff that will clutter up my cabinets. Also, don't like stuff that has parts (for example, the bags) that will run out and cause me to have to replace them. Because I hate going to the store. Especially going to the store to find some obsolete item that I have no idea where it is and then I might have to talk to a store employee and I really just don't want to do that. (Also, I almost accused it of being As Seen On TV, and I hate all things As Seen On TV, but Tim read this and called me out on it because it was Not Seen On TV and then I had to edit.)

Anyway, when Tim moved in, he brought his Seal-A-Meal. He asked if he could (because he's sweet like that), and I told him, "Of course you can bring it. (Because I, too, am sweet like that.)"

...As long as he left his recliner at his old house.

(He did.)

Unfortunately, we had nothing to seal when the Great Sealing Inquisition began during dinner one night. (Started by Mac because she had never heard of a Seal-A-Meal and was amazed by the magical invention and was curious as to how it worked). So Tim jumped up from the dinner table, grabbed the unit out of the cabinet, found the last of the bags, and was ready to seal. But what to seal? There were not 25 pounds of extra pork chops lying around...

Fortunately, we had just been to Sam's where we purchased the industrial size bag of Peanut M&M's and they were just begging to be sealed up in glorified freshness so that 2500 years from now explorers will find it buried beneath 10 feet of soil build-up and open the bag and lo and behold, they will be able to sample an ancient M&M just as fresh as the day it was sealed...


And also, some Pepto Bismol. Which I pointed out was already sealed for freshness, but whatever. No one listens to me.

Mac wanted to know what would happen if they sealed a PB&J:


Gross.

Then Joe was making fun of how dopey the Family was being and then made the unfortunate decision to leave the room. So they sealed his phone:




Living here is much like living in a fraternity house. You should watch your back (and phone) at all times.

Addendum: What you can't see here as I did not photograph it is that while Tim and I were out later, Joe retaliated by Seal-A-Mealing Tim's razor, toothbrushes, deodorant, one of my bras, and a thong. But I won in the end when I pointed out to him that he touched my underwear which he won't even touch as it comes hot out of the dryer, stating that it is gross.

...Boys.

Bob? or BOB...

Last week, Tim and I were standing in line at CVS when he said, "Oh! Your daughter needs batteries for her Bob*!" I looked at him while that sentence processed and my mouth began to crack into an hysterical smile and the giggling started. Simultaneously, he realized what he had said, and while the woman in line ahead of us pretended to ignore the fact that we were slowly losing control of our composure, we started laughing so hard that I had to cross my legs so as to not pee myself. And the more I tried to control my giggling, the more I pictured Tim buying batteries for his step-daugher's vibrator, and the more hysterical I became until I was practically bent over at the waist paying for our batteries and other random crap.

We left the store looking in our rear-view mirror for Child Services.

Funny. As. Hell.

*Bob, in this case is an alarm clock. Not a Battery Operated Boyfriend. We are liberal here, but not THAT liberal.

Girl, Married.

On August 2nd, I married a dream.



His name is Tim and he's the man I thought didn't exist. Our similarities are striking. People just meeting us think we've been married forever. Those who have known us forever say that we were made for each other.

The ceremony was perfect. Casual and comfy, just like us. Our closest friends and family were there to share the perfectly cloudless day with us. We had the ceremony at the clubhouse and pool in Tim's parent's neighborhood. There was beer and soda and hamburgers, veggies and potato salad and cake. The mayor married us - the ceremony lasted 3 minutes - 7 minutes from walk in to walk out. More than one person there told us that we "got it right."

Here are some of my favorite photos from the day:




Mackenzie and My Nieces


Tim & My Dad




A Moment Interrupted By 2 Goofballs

And at the end of the day, we went to our hotel room where we ordered a pizza, drank some wine and exchanged cards...



Perfect.

Puzzle Pieces, Found

On August 2nd, 2008, I will be marrying this man. I know in my soul that we were meant to be together. I knew it from before our meal was served on our very first date. He is the most thoughtful and compassionate man I have ever known. He is an amazing father to his sons and an incredible role model for Dillon and Mackenzie.

We are uncannily alike (beyond the fact that we share a birthday). Except for the unfortunate Sushi discrepancy, we have similar food likes and dislikes (milk, no; liver, yes), we watch the same shows (and share the same opinion of Reality TV). Our wardrobe leans towards the casual (jeans and t's thankyouverymuch). Our religious beliefs are in agreement (Catholics, lapsed). We have a tendency to take in strays (kids and all they drag along - the current count is 4 kids, 2 dogs, a cat, a snake, a fish, and a tarantula; 1 girlfriend, 1 wandering soul, and 2 friends who are always hungry).

He thinks my quirks are cute. I think his sincerity is stunning. He thinks my photography and writing are amazing. I think his chosen profession is admirable. Our children "get" one another. We fit perfectly together, like the last two pieces of an unfinished puzzle. I needed him and I didn't even know it. I thought I didn't need any man.

He is patient. He waited a year to ask me out; he waited until he sensed I was ready. He had a Three Day Plan to make me fall in love with him but he didn't even need one day. His Three Day Plan completely blew my Five Year (No Man) Plan out of the water and is an accomplishment he is very proud of this year.

I am Happy. It's been a long time since I've felt Happiness without fear or trepidation or waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time in my adult life, I feel like Happiness is not a temporary emotion. This Happy is for real. And it's here to stay.

Weirdness and Poop

Overheard in McDonald's in Smalltown, Indiana:

20-something guy: "I need to take a cold shower then check on my fantasy football."

70-ish year old lady to 90-ish year old father eating a small cup of ice cream at 11:40 am: “Don’t eat too much of that! You don’t want to ruin your dinner!”
Father: Scowl at daughter.
Daughter: "But it sure is good, isn't it?" in a timeless sucking-up maneuver.

Different 70-ish year old lady to 50-ish year old daughter: “Why do they call it ‘sweet tea’? This is not sweet.“
Daughter to mother: “I didn’t buy you the sweet tea. I didn’t know what you wanted. Here’s some sugar.”
Mother: Growl

Seriously. She growled.

First 70-ish year old lady to 20-ish year old boy at same table: “…my great-grandson has bowel problems. So he got some medicine and when I give it to him, I pick him up and hold him on my lap, and rock back and forth and sing a song to have the poopy come out…”

Which reminds me:

Dear Old People,

Please don't talk to us about your bowel movements. We don't care and it grosses us out. Why do you think that constipation and fiber and poop is an ok thing to talk about at the table? I really, really don't understand that.

Love, Paige.

PS - Dillon and Mac: If I ever start to talk about my bowel function as a part of general conversation you are hereby authorized to dump my ass in the nearest home. Love, Mom.