What's Not Fair Today?

When, almost every time I try and cook anything with a certain audience witness spy companion(or have already cooked something) (or even if the something that I cooked has already been eaten), the use of dishes and tools which I find necessary to use while attempting said cooking (aka: Feeding The Family), is referred to by this certain audience witness spy companion as 'in there making another mess'.

That is not fair.

Today or ever.

What Did She MEAN to Say?

Michelle and Barack Obama do WHAT together?




(thanks, Van)


(still laughing)

Inappropriate Parenting

Today's photo upload editing is brought to you by speech therapy cafe:




Is it wrong, that yesterday, after my Ebay score had arrived and been opened, that I only want to encourage a repeat reaction from my son?

My son, who wrapped the doll's legs around his neck, settling him on his shoulders, and romped around the house yelling, "I HAZ A WOODY! I HAS A WOODY! DADDY COME SEE MY WOODY!!"


I swear to you, picture to come if it's the only thing I do today.....

HERE THEY ARE!!!

Look, MA! I HAZ A WOODY!!


See? I got a WOODY!

Speech Therapy is GREAT!

Let me share with you why speech therapy is not just great for Bubbles, but also for Mama:





This is the cafe two blocks away. They have free wi-fi and the owner feels so bad that I have to spend so much on gas to get there is so nice, that he gives me 1/2 price coffee!





Don't hate me. Even Mama deserves a few breaks.

My Mail is Better Than Choklyt Milk

I received the following letter from some second graders today:

Dear Miss Gwendolyn;

We are sorry for the way we behaved in music class today and we will try not to do it again ever.


Love, Kaden and Bart










PS - We like choklyt milk.

Bubbles' Apraxia & Speech Update: Now with Video!

Bubbles is making crazy progress with his speech lately; there is no denying that this child has a sense of humor. Even his speech therapist (the Guru) feels the need to take notes as he continually amazes her in sessions.
On Monday, she was sound-pairing and building syllables with him. Each word or sound is enunciated with sing-song-y tones, and she makes it very rhythmic, often tapping out each word on the table. He repeats everything she says without hesitation.

Big ant: Big ant.
Big black ant: Big black ant.
Big black ant goes: Big black ant goes.
Big black ant goes up: Big black ant goes up!

So, this went on once or twice, until she was satisfied with his progress. He waited politely until after she had stopped with the 'big ant' and put the picture down, and then he said,
"It's a spider."

I know, he slays me too.


His most amazing accomplishment is dazzling, however. A few weeks ago, he found the video case for The Letter Factory, and asked to watch it. I put it on for him, and after happily watching it, he went back to asking for Thomas videos.

The other day, I noticed him with a book - a remnant from his sister's long-ignored Leappad (the extra large blue one) which may or may not have accidentally made it into a donation box and out of our garage (am afraid to look).

He showed me the pages with the pictures of slightly anthropomorphic letters.
Pointing to the 'Z', he then sang, "Zuh-zuh-zuh....zuh-zuh-zuh..." to the tune of Brahm's lullaby (just like on the Letter Factory). Next, to the 'W', insisting, "Whah! Wuh-wuh-wuh-whah!"
I pointed to: J, N, M, V, T...he knew the correct sounds for each of them! He didn't label the letter, but made the sounds for these consonants and then I realized that he also knew 'O' and 'A'.

The boy is a bright little bulb.

One more version posted here.

Next year, please come back to Blogher, Leapfrog! I really appreciated the useful shiny aluminum water bottles last year, but next time I just may bust out the cash for the Tag system!

I'm Going To Eat You Up!

Why are my kids' faces on these M&M's?


Go find out!

Jupiter is Pissed

I am certainly not the only one going through rough times - in fact, sometimes other people's rough times puts your own rough times in perspective....again.

Please send your good thoughts - your prayers - your non-praying-to-deities prayers - your candle lighting - your peace to dear RoseRedHoofbeats and her stepson.


While you're at it, throw in a few good words for my dear friend Will, who had 2 heart attacks and survived dying. Just the other day.

Guilt the Good and Guilt the Bad

The grounding has done the girl wonders. After she got over the 'this is so unfair' misguided attempts at disputing her punishments, she got it. Kindness returned, remorse appeared, and Lo! Her brother learned his most powerful technique to date: Guilt.
Whenever he remembers his owie or accidentally leans back on his wound, he feels it with his hand and says, "No dockor! No like it! Abeah (his name for Supergirl), why you hurt me? Why you push me?"
Is it wrong that I feel smug and satisfied to see that this is what really gets to her? I hope not.
Best consequence ever.
She has been wonderful.

Bubbles is healing nicely, and was back to his usually entertaining state right away.
The other day, I was procrastinating getting myself out of bed, and he leaned over and planted a huge kiss on my lips. Sat back proudly, and said, "Mama! I kiss you!"
I said, "You did! You gave me a big kiss!"
He then grinned and said, "I kiss you! You get me milk?"
This child is clever. He knows what to do so I can not refuse him.

His language is improving, but his intelligibility is not keeping up with his vocabulary, so there are many comical moments involving language. His oral motor exercises are also really helping - in one day he ate yogurt (spoon) and applesauce (tube) - and he has not eaten yogurt for a year, and has NEVER eaten applesauce - he just didn't have to coordination to properly swallow it before. He couldn't remember what yogurt was called, and he pointed to what Supergirl was eating, "I wan DAT!"
"You want yogurt?" I asked.
"YES! I want mee-gurt!"
He has been working hard at pronouns lately.

Bubbles has created some elaborate adventure games (something his preschool teacher mentioned before the break), and he has been asking me to come along.
He boldly puts himself between me and the laptop screen.
"Mama! Wan go walk me?"
"Sure! Where are we going?"
"Upstairs!"
He takes my hand and we have to stomp or sneak (his direction changes) up the stairs. The next part of the adventure usually involves going into their little bedroom or hiding under the covers of my big bed. At this point in the game, you have to yell, "OHNO! Skeery Dinosaurs! OHNO! They're coming!!" and you hide, hold your breath, gasp and giggle until the danger has passed and you can once again, return to the world outside the blanket.

At least five times each day, I find myself saying, "Three is so wonderful. I love three. Three is so lovely and fun and entertaining and oh wow - I just love three." I love that little guy so much. It's as if I had never had a three year old before.

And then I thought about that one for a while.

It's as if I had never had a three year old before.

And I feel so very sad for my little girl.
Because I do remember when she was three.
I remember it in snippets and snatches, but not enough of them.
I remember her swimming with a sea turtle in Maui on her third birthday.
We were in Maui because I could not be at home and still breathe.
I remember her asking me when I was going to get out of bed....at three pm.
I remember her telling people that she used to have a baby brother, but he died.
I remember making her a cake. But I don't remember what was on it.
I remember that she went to preschool, but I don't remember anything about it.
I took few pictures that year. I wanted no record then.
I remember yelling at her. A lot.
Too much.
I remember feeling that I had lost the magic.
Wanting it back; too tired or too sad to look for it.
I was barely there, barely cutting it as a mama.

Will she remember the yelling? The mama who wasn't there? Will she remember the glazed over eyes, the despair, the effort it took for her mama to get up every day?

Will she remember the years of trying so hard to make up for it all?


I love three.

Three is so bittersweet - I am trying to just enjoy it.

But oh how my heart feels so much guilt for my daughter.

Supergirl; doing the Hula on her 3rd birthday.

Dromedary Desperado

You know that camel with all that shit on its back? The great big pile of crap on top and the camel staggers along and some village idiot tosses a straw on the camel's back because entertainment is hard to come by in the desert I suppose, and *SPLAT* the camel just splays out (I imagine this part) on the ground, all brokeny back because of that one last damn straw.
That camel? Has nothing on my freaking camel.

My camel is carrying not only a load of crap on it's back, but also another camel. With crap on it's back. A Big Load of It.

So you would never guess, after surviving a blessed Christmas holiday practically pulled out of your ass, and doling out generosity in the form of near human sacrifice (how much did you spend mailing things this year?) - all amidst a stark grey backdrop called my personal life - that the people trying to toss straws on your camel on your camel, would be your family.

Then again, maybe you would.