Cheerio Confessions

Historically, for the past 7 years the month of May has sucked. And not just sucked in the terms of "Oh wow, this is kind of lame" sucked. It has sucked in terms of "Next year I am skipping the month of May", sucked in terms of "deep space vacuum" sucked. (little nerd girl joke there - sorry) Every year I go into the month of May with the mindset that this year will be different. This year May will not suck. Every year since my Grandma M died on May 11, 2002; May has sucked. Positive mindset or not. Until this year.

This year things were shaping up a bit differently. This year May 1st through the 10th was great. We had our normal bumps and bruises but nothing major. May 11th was a little sad for me but nothing I couldn't handle. We made it through May 12th through the 17th. The first 17 days of May were normal (for us), calm (for us) and completely unlike May for the past 7 years. Then I picked Gavin up from school on Monday, May 18th. Allow me to explain.

Monday, May 18th, 2009

The day started out normal and innocently enough. Gavin was feisty and angry, nothing new. However, he wasn't hungry even though he went to bed without dinner the night before since he chose to pitch a massive meltdown during dinner rather than eat. This seemed slightly odd to us but we figured maybe he wasn't really hungry the night before. Maybe it had all been a power struggle. So we went about our day and then I picked him up from school at 3:00pm. Gavin decided that he didn't want to do his work, much like every other day. Only on this day he decided to try and physically intimidate one of his teachers. He tried to hit her. She stopped him. He also spent a lot of time physically assaulting himself, which led her to trying to prevent this behavior. While lecturing Gavin on our way home my sister called me. It would appear that the poo-cloud was raining on our family as a whole, not just us. That's her story though. Just trust me when I say that it's the nightmare of mothers with teenage daughters everywhere.

Tuesday, May 19th, 2009

This morning I was helping Gavin get ready for school and a thought occurs to me. Here's the conversation I had with Gavin. I'm serious.

Me: Gavin, you weren't hungry when you woke up yesterday were you?
Gavin: Nope.
Me: Is that because you ate something that wasn't food? (Gavin, like most Autistic kids, has PICA.)
Gavin: Yup.
Me: Was it the strings from your blanket? (He's been known and seen Dr. H for pulling the threads out of his comforter (yes, he insists on sleeping with it even when it's 70+ outside - that would be the sensory integration disorder) and eat them.)
Gavin: No.
Me: (having a light bulb moment) Did you eat your toothpaste? Is that why you went through it so quickly?
Gavin: Yes.
Me: What other things do you eat that aren't food?
Gavin: Paper. Strings. Toothpaste. But not toe-jam. Well, not anymore. But I used to. (I kid you not.)
Me: What paper?
Gavin: The paper on my desk.
Me: Why would you do that?
Gavin: Well, I was hungry!
(Now Rob and I had checked out his desk Monday night - separately. Rob thought I had cleaned it off. I thought Rob had cleaned it off. And we both forgot to mention it to the other one. Rob and I would later figure out there were roughly 12-24+ sheets of paper (copies, construction paper, art paper, art projects, cardboard, paper scraps etc covered in copier ink, crayon, marker, color pencil, pencil, pen, glue etc) not to mention a bunch of little plastic "gumball machine toys". All of these things are now gone.)

After this conversation I took Gavin to school. A.) Because Dr. H's office didn't open until 8:00am and I didn't know what he was going to want me to do. and B.) Because at the time I didn't realize just what was on the desk. So a little while later I called Dr. H's office and spoke with a nurse. She said she would speak with Dr. H and call back but I should call Poison Control in the meantime just to be safe. So I called Poison Control and they said that given Gavin's age and size the crayon etc wasn't a concern. Their bigger concern was the amount of paper and whether or not it was going to cause a bowel obstruction. (Oy.) They told me to follow whatever Dr. H said to do.

Well as if all of this wasn't more fun than a barrel of monkeys (it wasn't) I also woke up with a very sore throat Tuesday morning. So while waiting to hear back from Dr. H I called my Dr. N and made an appointment for that morning. So Trisha, Emmett John, Elliott Richard and I left. We dropped Elliott Richard off at Grandma G's fully intending to pick him up on the way home. Then Trish and I went to my appointment while Rob waited to hear from Dr. H. I had a sinus infection, strep throat, and upper respiratory infection. I suppose anything worth doing (or having) is worth doing well.

While I was sitting at Dr. N's office, Dr. H called Rob...personally. Dr. H had already called the head of gastroenterology at the local children's hospital who said to keep an eye on Gavin. As long as he was asymptomatic there was no need to bring him in. That was before we realized everything that had been on his desk and was now missing. Once Rob explained the desk contents et al Dr. H said he wanted us to pick Gavin up from school and take him straight to the children's hospital emergency room. He said they would be the best equipped to handle Gavin and his situation. So Rob, Trish, Gavin, Emmett John and I made our way to the Emergency Room.

All told we spent 2-3 hours there. They "probed" him to be sure he wasn't blocked. Gavin loved that, let me tell you. They did x-rays to be sure that he hadn't swallowed anything made of metal, which turned out clear. Thank God. Then the Attending had to check his nose to make sure he hadn't shoved anything up there. He thought he saw a marble up there so that led to another procedure, which led to Gavin being wrapped like a burrito - something we'll be using for blood draws in the future. In the end, all was clear. The paper will pass. If there were toys, they were made of plastic, didn't appear to be causing any poisoning, and seemed to be passing with the paper. If he became sick, started vomiting, complaining of stomach pain or still hadn't pooped in 3-5 days we were to call Dr. H for a follow-up. Luckily none of those things happened. And the paper seems to be leaving the building.

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009
You know, I don't remember what happened on Wednesday. Oh wait! Yes, I slept as much as humanly possible to try and feel somewhat human again. It didn't work. And when Rob picked Gavin up from school we learned that Gavin had cussed in school. However, when asked about it, he lied. This led to a giant meltdown. As Gavin was melting down, Rob and I gutted his bedroom. We stripped it of every piece of paper we could find. Every tiny toy. Every big toy. Every everything that could fit in his mouth.

While we were doing this, Jenn was watching Elliott Richard and Emmett John. And the phone rang. It was Grandpa G calling from the local hospital. Apparently, Grandma G had been outside gardening. When she stood up, she heard a *snap*. All she did was get up and she broke her ankle. Dad sounded pretty freaked out on the phone. She's okay. But she's pretty shaken up because she truly didn't do anything except stand up and her ankle snapped.

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

We woke up. Things were moving along fine. The morning was calm and quiet. Gavin went off to school without incident. Mr. Emmett John and I laid down at about 9:00 am for our usual morning nap. (Yes, my fibro is that bad that I have to take naps - usually more than one - everyday.) The house phone rang but no one answered it. Then my cell phone rang. It was the school. When the school calls, it's never good news. I answered and spoke with the school guidance counselor. Now it's important to keep in mind that I drop Gavin off at school at 8:00am. The school was calling at about 9:00am. During that hour Gavin did little else besides meltdown. All because his teachers had the nerve to ask him to write his name and do his work. He refused. You're surprised, I know. He melted down for 45 minutes. Finally, the guidance counselor decided to try and help him by holding his hand with her hand and physically helping him to do his work, not force him to do it but actually help him. This led to Gavin throwing his pencil across the room. Before holding his classmates "hostage" by blocking them from leaving the room. Then when they did get the class evacuated the guidance counselor was getting ready to give Gavin the chance to get himself under control or she was calling me. She was about to offer his that chance, when he threw the pencil at her head and missed her by about an inch. At that point, she'd had enough and she told him that she was calling Mom. She left the room expecting him to continue with his meltdown. He didn't. He followed her and cornered her in the office, ordering her not to call me. By the time Rob and I arrived at the school Gavin, the Principal, and Mr. B (the IEP Coordinator) were locked in the office with another teacher Ms. J sitting outside as a watchman. In the end, we took him home early. He spent the day in his room without toys or anything fun to do. We had plans to do his work he was missing by coming home early but the day took a very different turn once we arrived home.

While we were at the school, Rob's little sister, Jenn, babysat Elliott Richard and Emmett John. Now as I was leaving that morning to take Gavin to school, I saw a red female pitbull she was either currently nursing or had recently stopped nursing pups without a collar or tags limping through the neighborhood so I called the county dog warden. I made it very clear that she did not appear aggressive just scared and possibly injured. I just wanted her reunited with her pups and I didn't want her hit by a car. So while we were gone the dog warden showed up at our house where he is greeted at the door by Maggie Sue, our tan female Boxer/American Bulldog non-nursing with collar and tags non-limping secured dog. Jenn answered the door and Elliott Richard takes Maggie by the collar saying "bad dog...stop barking". The dog warden told her that Maggie was a pitbull and she was going to "bite that baby". So when we got home from dealing with Gavin and the school we now had to deal with the county dog warden or risk losing our beloved Maggie. Rob called them and was on the phone for what seemed like forever. In the end we had to produce copies of the paperwork from the vet stating that she isn't a pitbull and that our vet had done a temperament test on her. We also had to present her to the head dog warden for an examination to prove that she isn't a pitbull. In the end, he sided with us and ruled that she is in fact a Boxer/American Bulldog mix. Thank God for small favors!

If he had ruled against us, we would have had two choices. In our county, if you own a pitbull mix you have to have a $100,000 insurance policy, a 6 foot fence surrounding your yard and if we ever took her for a walk she would have to be on a 6 foot chain leash with a muzzle. So if he had ruled against us, we either had to find a way to afford the new fence and insurance policy. Or we were going to have to return Maggie to the humane society. Luckily, we don't have to think about that...ever again. :) When Rob left to take her to see the dog warden though. I was devastated. I am not a dog person. Period. But I am absolutely a Maggie person and the idea of having to give her back broke my heart.

Of course, what week of chaos is complete without a visit to Dr. H for Mr. Emmett John? (Have I mentioned this is his third appointment in as many weeks? We've been busy, Mr. Emmett John and I, but that's another post.) I had to take Emmett John to see Dr. H at 2:00pm because he's had diarrhea for almost 3 weeks. He isn't sick. He isn't on any medications. At first we thought it was a side effect of the Zyrtec he was taking for his allergies so we expected it to clear up once it was out of his system. It hasn't. Now it's also gotten to a point where he's loosing weight because of it. So now we find ourselves back in the familiar land of Emmett John being sick and us not knowing why. I dropped off a stool sample at the local hospital so they could run a half dozen different tests to try and find the cause. We won't have the results back until Tuesday though since Monday is a holiday.

And so Thursday comes to an emotional close. All of the up-and-down up-and-down this week so far has made me nauseous. And I usually love roller coasters.

Friday, May 22nd, 2009
We finished out the week with a fairly calm day, by the rest of week's standards anyway. Gavin went to school where the Head of the local MST program sat in his classroom and observed him for an hour or so. He was in the office for 3-4 times in that hour, so Gavin did not disappoint. Which believe it or not, for once we were actually worried that he would hold it together and keep all of his bananas, thereby having a pretty good day. It would figure, wouldn't it? A woman comes to the classroom just to see his behavior and he has a wonderfully well-behaved day? lol That didn't happen though. Thank God again.

Then at 2:00pm Rob and I met Patty at Dr. R's office for an appointment with him to discuss what to do with Gavin.

They would like him to have some pretty heavy duty, in depth psychological testing done. The problem is that this particular testing is an art when given to adults but to give it to children and interpret it correctly is even more of an art. So it's even more difficult to find someone who not only performs the test but is good at it. Dr. R is going to find the people who perform the test. And Patty will review them and pick out just the right one.

Then we discussed medications. Dr. R said he doesn't like to pick a medication and work his way through the doses. Then if it doesn't work, move on to the next medication. However, in Gavin's case he said he doesn't see any other choice. So we left his Depakote alone, although he needs more blood work done. (Thankfully Rob and Grandpa G are taking him this time.) We also left his Klonopin alone. Dr. R did make the decision to increase Gavin's Zyprexa in the hopes that it would calm him down. Right now, all it's doing is doping him up, which I suppose is better than nothing. Although truthfully I don't want him to go through life doped up. At the same time, I can't have him lashing out at people and trying to assault others.

We also discussed if Rob and I should consider a different school for Gavin. I love his school. I think the world of everyone there. However, Rob and I are wondering how long Gavin is going to be able to stay there. Also most of the staff is young and looking to start their own families very soon. Gavin is violent enough when it's just him against himself or a staff member. The last thing we need is for it to come down to Gavin against a pregnant educator. Then there's the fact that he's constantly influencing the behavior of his classmates with his outbursts and meltdowns. There are a few options that Dr. R wants us to look into. So Rob and I will probably spent the summer researching them. Then we will tour them in the middle to the end of August and make our final decision then.

Overall, I guess it was an okay appointment. Rob left feeling better about it than I did. But it is what it is, I suppose.

That was our lovely week. I'm glad it's over. Although truth be told I don't expect the next week to be much different. Nor the one after that. Or the one after that. After all, it is the last 4 days of school this week. None of them are "education days". They are all fun days. And then it's summer vacation. I hate summer vacation, for a multitude of reasons really. But basically, I reached my saturation point for stress, drama and needless shenanigans a long time ago so I just don't have the patience for any of it anymore.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

Let's see what I haven't done this week...

I did not put Mr. Emmett John on the floor a little while ago to play because that seems to be the only thing to entertain/calm/stop the screaming lately. I did not do this because I need to sweep the floor (although it's not that bad but still) and an unswept floor is a cesspool for germs.

I did not send Gavin to school in "high water" pants this morning because all of his pants are "high waters" since he miraculously grew like 3 inches over night! That would make him look like a hill-billy and me a hill-billy mama by association.

I did not spend my weekend playing Cake Mania rather than doing productive things like working on the Cheerio State Pen, dishes, or laundry. That would be irresponsible and very un-motherly of me.

I am not spending today playing Little Big Planet for Elliott Richard because he is sick and this is the only way I can get him to sit still and rest.

I did not just throw the PS3 controller to the side and dash to Emmett John's side because he fell while exploring my unswept living room. He's the youngest of three and obviously by now I've learned that children will stumble and fall and get bumps and bruises.

I am having one of those days. Mothers of small children everywhere just shuttered...collectively. Did you feel it?

They all shuttered because they feel my pain. What pain you ask? Allow me to lay it out for you:

The pain of a 10m old who has a diaper rash that, at this point, I'm pretty sure came from Hell. Dr. H said on Monday that he was "almost certain it's a strep diaper rash, which is incrediblly painful". It isn't. It also is taking forever to respond to both the prescription strength diaper cream and pinxav (pronounced Pink Salve).

This pain is very different from the pain of cutting both top...what are those...eye teeth (?) next to the top front teeth?! Yeah, whatever those are, he's cutting both top ones at the same time. When he teethes, he grates his teeth while he nurses. I'm bleeding. Enough said on this matter.

You add to those pains the pain of Gavin being home from school all day today because of a Teacher-in-Service-Day. I declare Shenanigans! There are a mere 9 days left of school...again I say, Enough said and Shenanigans!

Then there's the pain of Elliott Richard, who is 3 years old. If this needs further explanation please see this post.

Aside from all of those I'm just in pain in general. S.S.D.D. (Same Stuff Different Day) I've got a raging migraine (I know you're shocked). And my back is killing me right over my left kidney, whether or not it actually is my kidney remains to be seen. If I don't move (yeah, right) and drink my body weight in water, the pain isn't too bad.

Are we having fun yet? ;) lol

I am in the mood to blog, however, I don't feel very well at the moment. So I am going to follow in Alexis' footsteps and simply post "My Life According to Google". Enjoy!

My life according to Google:

Type in the following and choose from the first description found. Be honest, don't just pick one out to be funny.

1: Type in "[your first name] needs" in the Google search:
Elizabeth needs to do her homework and realize that she is sitting ... (Yes, I am sitting but no, I do not have homework. I haven't had homework for the better part of 5 years.)

2: Type in "[your first name] looks like" in Google search:
Elizabeth looks like an angel and plays the harp like a ... (Well, I definitely cannot play the harp. As for looking like an angel...I suppose it depends upon who you ask and when.)

3: Type in "[your first name] hates" in Google search:
Elizabeth,Hates Her Parents,Christ,Jupiter,she's little destructive,A little abusive,Judy turn down your radio ... (Let's see here: Sometimes but mostly in my angsty teenage years. Not even close. Why bother? If the situation calls for it, yes, I can be. I try not to be unless your name is Trisha. *eg* What does my Great Aunt Judy have to do with anything?)

4: Type in "[your first name] goes" in Google search:
Elizabeth Goes To Play Therapy... (Of all the types of therapy I'm sure I probably need, play therapy is probably at the bottom of the list. Sounds like fun though.)

5: Type in "[your first name] loves" in Google search:
Queen Elizabeth loves the Wii... (Well, God Bless the Queen! And get on with your bad-self Your Majesty!)

6: Type in "[your first name] eats" in Google search:
Elizabeth, an actress, poker player and dancer, eats a banana seductively in the video link. Some people thought it was worthy of singling out ... (Not an actress. Suck at Poker. Love to dance but I'm only good at ballet. And no. Sorry.)

7: Type in "[your first name] has" in Google search
Elizabeth has 10 times the lifespan of workers and lays up to 2000 eggs a day... (I. Am. NOT. A. Chicken!)

8: Type in "[your first name] works" in Google search:
Elizabeth Works To Put Herself Through Medical School 2004.... (Wow! I'm a Queen, an actress, poker player, dancer, chicken AND a doctor?! Sweet Mary, do I SLEEP, EVER?)

9: Type in"[your first name] lives" in Google search:
Elizabeth Lives to Love... (Yeah, that's pretty accurate.)

10: Type in "[your first name] died" in Google search:
(The Death of Good Queen Bess) Elizabeth died at Richmond Palace on 24 March 1603, leaving behind a rich and prosperous country. (Man, I was dead before I even got a chance to achieve any of #8.)

My Tuesday Toot this week is simple...

I survived.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

And now, without further ado, here are my Not Me Mondays!

This week...

I definitely did not...seriously consider putting my M&M's (Mini-Miracles) into indiviual boxes labeled "FREE TO A GOOD HOME" and placing them on various street corners.

I also did not...wolf down a cream stick for breakfast in the car because I only had enough change for one (for me) and not for everyone. For what it's worth, it was good. :)

I did not...completely draw a blank while trying to come up with my "Not Me Monday".

I'm not out of practice writing Not Me Monday's, nope, Not Me. ;) lol

I am not adding to my Not Me Monday on Tuesday because I just remembered some of the forgotten ones. Nope, again, Not Me.

I definitely did not just mail thank you cards for gifts Emmett John received 9 months ago last week. No, that would be silly because those people have probably forgotten they gave him gifts at all. And to send a card 9 months later, well, that's just neurotic.

I also did not send out the gift I made for my dear friend Nikky after she had her darling son, Jr 10 months ago just last week with said thank you cards. Nope, because Jr is now 10 going on 11 months old and to send a "congrats on your new baby" gift now...well, that's just silly.

I definitely did not send said "congrats on your new baby" gift to her old address in Texas rather than her current address in California. That would be down right stupid. And odds are more likely that I will get it back, eventually. Or that the someone on the Naval base will keep it. Before Nikky ever sees it.

With those thank you cards, and "congrats" gift I definitely did not mail out a few other "congrats on your new baby" cards to mommies from my email due date list. Because all of their babies are also 10 going on 11 months old now. And again, that would just be silly and more than slightly neurotic. Right?

I wanted to take a moment before my migraine meds kick in to wish all of my readers, all my friends and of course all of my family a very happy Mother's Day! I hope you all have a relaxing day filled with all of your favorite things. *hugs*

And now I'm off to try and get rid of the migraine from Hell, which is incredibly unfair by the way. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Cheerios commercial - Brother and sister (Google) ~ I've got the brothers covered in my house but you have to go three doors down if you want to find the closest sister. :)
torture specialist (Google) ~ I definitely have one of those in the making.
sado-masochistic (Google) ~ See above.
sado (Google) ~ See both above.
what is sadomasochistic torture (Google) ~ It's what my youngest has decided to study during his infancy.
sado masochism tylenol (Google) ~ I'm not going to lie, this search confuses me. Are you taking the Tylenol because of the sado-masochism?
block castles (Google) ~ That is how I view things with Gavin much of the time.
cheerios commercial+moving house (Google) ~ The searches for the Cheerios commercial are finally dying down.
trileptal accidental dose (Yahoo) ~ Again, I'm sorry that this happened to you as well. At the same time, I'm once again comforted by the fact that I'm not the only parent to have done it.
the boys karate (Google) ~ That's my Gavin-man.

Elliott Richard is currently allowing his hair to "grow tall" by his request. When he wants it cut, we will have it cut. If you don't agree with this method, sorry but he's three and can't control much in his life so we've decided to give him control over the length of his hair. Anywho, in order for him to grow "tall" hair we bought some of that hair spray to detrangle his hair without the tears. After his tubby this morning, Rob sprayed Elliott Richard's hair and accidentally got some on his face, which caused his face to break out. This is the conversation that followed:

Daddy: Mommy, look at Elliott's face. He's all broken out.

Me: Boo-boo, come let Mommy see your face.

Elliott Richard: No Mommy. It's mines face. Get your's own.

Me: Baby, come here please.

Elliott Richard comes over and I check his face.

Me: Yeah, he's broken out but he'll be okay.

Elliott Richard: Mines face is not broken!

Seriously? Two Terrorists in one family? There should be some sort of rule against that. It just isn't fair.

Incidentally, whomever said that it was the "Terrible 2's" is full of it. Clean up to their eyeballs, full of it. I guarantee that once that parent said that, they took it back 365 days later. Once the "Terrible" left the building and the "Terrorist" took over, all bets were off and that parents went *forehead desk* "I was a complete idiot. I hope no one remembers I said that." Well, guess what buddy...We all remember.

It is currently 8:29pm EST. I have been sitting in this same rocking chair for 1 hour and 29 minutes listening to a screaming, whining, begging, pleading, bargaining Terrorist. Apparently he hasn't heard that Americans don't negotiate with Terrorists. Someone should probably let him know. He's not speaking to me or I would tell him. God only knows how much longer I will sit here while Elliott Richard does everything shy of throwing himself out his second story window to try and stay awake and get out of going to bed. Gavin has already fallen asleep - that tells you how long this has gone on. It's insanity.

Of course one of his favorite tactics is the "Daddy Guilt" method. He screams and pleads "Daddy help me", "Daddy save me", "Daddy, Daddy please" as if I'm up here systematically and heartlessly jamming bamboo shoots under his fingernails rather than surfing the net or working on turning my home into a prison. And off course Rob will call up "Are you okay honey", "Do you need anything", "Can I help you" which of course is just enough to feed the idea in Elliott Richard's mind that Daddy is coming to save the day. And so what does he do? Why he kicks it up a notch, obviously.

Why doesn't anyone mention this stuff in birthing classes?! "Oh by the way, yeah that video looks horrible and painful. Yeah, you're probably scared witless right now. But seriously, wait until this kid is THREE. *insert evil laugh here* That's when the real pain starts and it only gets worse from there."

Yeah, I think I would have seriously reconsidered this whole "parenting gig" had someone mentioned that way back when....okay, probably not but it still would have been nice to have been properly informed.

Sssssshhhhhh....do you hear that? Apparently, I was wrong. Elliott Richard didn't outlast Gavin. He just out-screamed him. Either way you look at it, no easy feat. But since my Terrorist is finally asleep. I'm outta here!

BTW, it's now 8:44pm. 1 hour and 44 minutes spent with a Terrorist 3 year old. Oy.

they are a blowing.

Here's in the Cheerio Household that is. (Okay, totally not our real last name but for the sake of some resemblance of privacy and safety work with me here.) Last Monday Rob and I saw Dr. R, Gavin's psychatrist and he feels that Gavin does not have signs of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), which was an idea Rob and I had been kicking around with Patty. He feels that it is much more likely a Conduct Disorder. Now some of you may read the definition of Conduct Disorder, shake your heads and say, "Nope, don't see it." I'm here to tell you that there is so much that most never see. So trust me when I tell you that Conduct Disorder fits. (It's another post entirely for me to explain all the reasons why and I'll try to get to that post ASAP.)

Dr. R said that there is a therapy here in our hometown that is supposed to do wonders with kids with Conduct Disorders. It's called MST. He also stated that children with Conduct Disorders do well in a strictly structured, prison-like environment. Now our lives are structured already. However, if "prison-like" structure is what we need to keep our family afloat then "prison-like" is what we shall have. I'm in the process of putting a plan into action that will create this ultra-structured environment for my family.

I don't do well with structure as a whole. My brain just doesn't seem to work that way. Whenever I attempt to force it to, it just doesn't work out well. However, it is my hope that if it is my plan and implemented by me then I will be okay with it. Believe me when I say this isn't a simple plan by any stretch of the imagination. I'll have to lay it all out for y'all sometime but right now I hear laundry and dishes calling my name.

So the winds of change, they are a blowing. Hopefully they blow us someplace nicer than where we currently are.

Actually = The word found at the beginning and in the middle of most sentences.

Me: Elliott Richard, how did you get so smart?
ER: Well actually, I thought about it.

Cone dog = Corn dog

A Trisha = Aunt Trisha

Let's make this short and sweet. Rob's baby sister Jenn moved in across the street tonight. Granted living with Fibro tends to limit my helpfulness when it comes to moving. I can't lift much. Can't really carry much either. Climbing stairs repeatedly, nope. So I hung the shower curtain and put her towels away. Hung out a bit. Even though I didn't do much, I am so beyond exhausted.

I had planned, well, more like hoped that I was going to write a post about how we had planned for things to go. Then how things had really gone. How I don't miss moving. I don't miss packing or sorting or unpacking. I don't miss having to feed those who are kind enough to help you move. Likewise, I don't like having to prented to know where I want everything or even that I have any of the answers because most likely, I don't. And as much as I wouldn't mind being 18 years old again, especially if I could be 18 knowing what I know now, I don't think I want to go through all that again.

Bright side: Jenn is all moved in.

Dark side: I'm in gobs of pain. And so overwhelmed and exhausted that I'm twitching.

Just hanging out in the car, sitting backwards in the carseat. Don't worry I wasn't channeling my inner-Brittney Spears or anything. We weren't moving at the time. Just waiting, for something.

What's a baby to do...All stickered up with no place to go.

I just love those tiny baby toes. *swoon*

I love the way he has hands clasped together in this picture. Too stinking adorable.

Every Monday Trisha and I go to the local Farmer's Market/Flea Market. On this particular Monady. Trisha needed to stop and order wooden benches for Father Lew for mass. So while Aunt Trisha picked out, ordered and paid for benches Mr. Emmett John and wondered off and found some playsets. Only one had an infant swing but luckily that's all we needed. :)

"Hehehe This is nice and all but I'm not so sure about this."

Wwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Up close and personal.

Hanging out in the swing. Getting a feel for the whole experience.

Baby brothers might make good pillows but big brothers definitely make better arm rests.

Emmett John appears to be sleeping peacefully. However, he's really quietly stalking his prey. Waiting for the perfect moment to begin moving in.

He slowly begins moving in for the kill.

And after much planning and careful follow-through, Mr. Emmett John has successfully turned his big brother into an arm rest!

This is Mr. Emmett John's first tubby sitting up like a big boy. He's been able to sit up for months but it just never occurred to me to switch from the recline tubby to the sitting up tubby until now. (I'm a slacker mom I know. lol)

My babies seem to have a thing for ducks. I'm not sure why. I love the expression on his face in this shot though (Yes, I know I say that a lot. It's always true, if that helps.) it just screams, "Uh Mom, something is very wrong with this tubby. Are you sure you're doing this right?!"

Yes, he's holding what it looks like he's holding. What can I say, he's all boy. lol As you can see, he's decided that a) perhaps I do know what I'm doing after all and b) maybe this sitting up tubby isn't quite so bad after all.

Just playing with the wash cloths and the duckie. I was lucky to keep him from being buried (quite literally) in tubby toys by a "very helpful" Elliott Richard.

All clean!