I Can't Believe He Ate the Whoooole Thing.

Max wanted an apple for his after-school snack today.

He's requested apples many times before, but he doesn't usually eat them. (I think it's because of his wonky front tooth. Eating them hurts.) It was also a novel request because 9 times out of 10 he asks for crackers or popcorn the moment he steps off the bus. But today it was if a whole new snack idea had occurred to him. He entered the kitchen and only had eyes for the apples. I got out a knife to cut one into slices, which is what I usually do to make a giant apple more approachable, but he did NOT want me to cut it. He simply took it, sat down at the table, and started eating.

He sat. And he sat.

He ate. And he ate.

If investigators on CSI: Kitchen were trying to determine who was eating this apple, those bite marks would leave no doubt!

He didn't look around. He didn't squirm. He didn't run off. He just sat and ate, with a singular focus.

(Note to self: consider new bowls.)

And he ate.

And he ate.

I tried to convince him he was done with it, that he had eaten all the good fruity parts, but he ignored me.

Finally, he said "Done!"

This is what was left.

*6/3/10 Edited to add: Two months later, and he's turned down every apple offer since. It's a mystery.

Independence

Independence seems to be the theme this year. Max has made so much progress lately. He has settled. Matured. He's suddenly doing some really exciting things all by himself!

And the flip side of that is that I am becoming more independent, too. We are tied together in so many ways, for so many pieces of daily life. There is a sense of freedom when I am no longer required for something. And I know that's a feeling that goes both ways.

Sometimes his new independence creates more work or mess or worry for me. That's a truth for any child, but perhaps more literally so with Max.

For example, the other day he entered the kitchen where my husband was making dinner and asked for "Help, please." He's been doing this thing with his videos where he wants help to change them or start them or rewind them or adjust the volume -- all things he knows how to do on his own, barring some complication -- because he simply wants the interaction. And every now and then there IS a complication, in which case he really does need help. But it's usually not clear until we go with him and assess the situation. After the bazillionth time, it is something we are reluctant to do. So, when he entered the kitchen with a request for help, my husband assumed it was yet another false video alarm. He refused to go, and sent him off with the encouraging words, "You know how to do it! You can do it yourself!" Max paused, but agreed, and took off down the hall. We found him in his room, gamely attempting to change his own messy pull-up. Ugh.

But mostly the changes have been good.

We finally had a spell of warm weather recently, and the snow melted off the pavement, making our street and sidewalk visible for the first time in months. I desperately needed to get outside and feel the sunshine on my face, and decided to do just that. Without Max. He's been sick, didn't want to go, was happily watching a movie just inside the front windows. He is clearly visible from outside. Our loop is a scant 1/3 mile, with a good portion of it in view of our house & yard. There is no traffic. Our neighbor was outside in his front yard. Max's brother was riding his bike in laps around the loop. I decided it could work. And by all my explaining here, it's probably clear that a) I don't want you to feel the need to call CPS or criticize me, and b) even though there are many reasons it sounded like a workable idea, it wasn't.

I noticed on the 2nd lap that I couldn't see him in the window, and there was no response to my maniacal waving. So I went inside the house to check on him. When he heard me enter the house, he came skittering down the hall from the bathroom, with a guilty look on his face. He was shaking his head no, and hiding his hand behind his back. I assumed the worst in a toilet-y sort of way, but the bathroom seemed fine. Then I noticed the fingernail clippers on the counter. And that is NEVER a good sign.

Sure enough, I asked him what he had been doing and made him show me his hand...

...and THIS! This is what he had been doing -- trying to trim his own nails!

Independence is a tricky thing. It's long overdue, yet way too soon. It's two steps forward, one step back. It's trial and error. It's mess and discomfort.

But I'm trying to remind myself that it's positive. And beautiful. And necessary. For BOTH of us.
Just as long as it doesn't involve clippers.

Sleeping Update

Sleep Update, Month 4.

1. The new sleeping arrangement continues!

2. Even through a bit of sickness! (It was just a cold, but that is an incredibly encouraging sign. He did wake during the night and needed some help & comfort, but he went back to his own bed each time. That's huge.)

3. Not only is Max sleeping through the night in his own room, but he's also falling asleep by himself, in bed, ALONE! (That one fact might be an even bigger accomplishment than the location, frankly. There have been times when he slept in his own room, or slept through the night in our bed, but there has NEVER been a time when he fell asleep alone.)

4. And if that didn't impress you enough, here's one that will make you fall right off your computer chair -- Max wanted to read in bed and turn off his own light! (It was a passing phase, but must be noted because of the incredible Wow Factor.) He tried it for a few nights, and though we left his room with crazy grins (and a hefty portion of doubt), he actually did it. He looked at his books, then turned off his own lamp, and then went to sleep. That's some beautiful independence, there. (And imitation at its best!)

***

To truly appreciate how far we've come, I had to revisit some posts from the past. Follow the links to see both the illustrated version and the wordy version of our sleep struggle from ONE year ago, and this little story from TWO years ago.

Shattered by Socks.

This morning was not easy. It's a regular school day, so we were just going through the regular school day routine. It should have been simple, a choreographed 45-minute routine.

Except my husband is out of town. And that changes everything, in Max's mind.

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. I don't know. (Which is precisely the point.)

Max started to cry in the shower. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to get in, he didn't want to get out, he didn't want to be wet, he didn't want to be dried. But he was calm again after being wrapped in a towel and got dressed quietly and willingly. I thought he was fine.

And then we got to the socks. I had grabbed a pair of socks from the very end of the supply, and had one sock on his foot when he suddenly realized that it was a pair he did NOT want to wear. Most of his socks are solid white, soft and stretchy, all an identical Max-approved brand. But there are a few random pairs that appear when the laundry is backed up and choice is limited.

Max did not want to wear those socks. They didn't feel right. They didn't look right. They were simply not going to go on his feet today. So I went in search of a new, acceptable pair. I offered two other choices -- tube socks or footies -- knowing he typically disliked both, but they were all that was left. (And some days he's fine with them!) But not today. Today he got upset and flatly refused to cooperate any more. With anything.


I dug through the laundry basket and found yesterday's pair of dirty socks -- the last of the preferred kind -- and tried to put those on him. But he was done. The window of opportunity had already slammed shut.

He cried, he gagged and puked, he scratched his face, and hit his head against the wall. He kept his bare feet far away from me, scrambling sideways like a crab, refusing to calm down or listen to reason.

I kept telling him the bus was coming and he needed to let me put his socks and shoes on. I pointed out that the socks were his favorites. I gave him some time, hoping it would let him push his own re-set button. When that didn't work, I pleaded, I begged, I scolded, I threatened, I reasoned, I promised, I yelled, I wrestled, I pulled & I tugged.

Then I slumped down, defeated & frustrated, buried my face in my hands, and cried.

Max saw this and staggered over to me, his face crumpled and his arms out for a hug. He crawled onto my lap, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face.

We comforted each other for a moment, and then put those socks and shoes on.

Generally speaking, once the situation is resolved, Max is over it. He forgives, he forgets, he doesn't hold a grudge, he regains control, and he moves on. But the rest of us can't. We're shaken. We're upset. We're bothered, frustrated, sad, resentful, worried.

And today was no different. Max's tears ended, but my older son's started. He waited for his own bus with tears dripping silently down his cheeks. And so my own eyes fill yet again. I tried to talk it through with him, but I'm at a loss myself. I don't understand why it happened. I don't know when it will happen again. I don't know how to prevent it from happening. (We can avoid those socks, obviously, but the reality is that it will be about something else next time.)

Max got on the bus and left for school. He's ready, he knows what to do, and everything makes sense.

But for those of us left in the wake of the storm, nothing makes sense. We don't know what to do. We aren't ready for the day.

I'm throwing away those socks and doing a load of laundry. But beyond that, I'm at a loss...

Come Closer!

I have a secret to tell you. Well, it's not really a secret...but it's one of those things that I'm scared to say out loud. But I'm bursting at the seams and I need to tell someone! So lean in close and I'll whisper it in your ear....

MAX IS SLEEPING IN HIS OWN ROOM! BY HIMSELF! ALL NIGHT LONG!!

HE'S SLEEEEEPINNNNG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(There are not enough exclamation points in the world.)

Truth be told, he's been doing it for several weeks now. So it should "stick" -- right?? But we continue to tip-toe around in the evenings and keep our fingers crossed that he does not regress for any reason. I think that if I let him crawl in bed with me ONE SINGLE TIME, or if he comes down with the flu, or if a butterfly spreads its wings in China, all that progress could vanish instantly. (But even then, I would know that we've made it here once before and we can do it again!)

It took 3 months to get here. (That is, 3 months in addition to the 8 1/2 years of previous work!) For 3 months, we faithfully recorded everything and worked towards this goal with a singular focus. We did not give in. We did not back down. We got creative. We changed some things. We added some things. AND IT WORKED.

I have to add -- a small part of me wonders how much earlier this could have worked, and how many nights of frustration we could have avoided. I don't know. Maybe a year? I seriously don't think it could have happened much earlier than that. And it doesn't even matter now. But I do know this: the time was right and it went smoothly because HE was ready.

There are things we did to help him be ready, but the bottom line is that his changes were more important than ours.

This is big, people. HUGE! (So DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!!) *tossing salt over shoulder*

Valentine's Day

I baked giant heart-shaped cookies for Max's teachers and bus drivers while he worked on the Valentines for his classmates. He helped mix the food coloring into the icing and chose the sprinkles, but then moved on to his own project.

I bought supplies for him to make his own Valentines this year: red paper, a variety of heart-shaped stickers, and treat bags to fill with candy. He spent a long time applying stickers and signing his name over and over.

Even though the big kids said they were too old to exchange Valentines anymore, they ended up drawn to the table of supplies and had fun helping him out. All that love stuff may be embarrassing for kids of a certain age, but we ALL enjoy Max's whole-hearted embrace of it. This is a holiday right down Max's alley. He simply LOVES to love. (Plus? Candy! Gifts! A PARTY! It's pure fun.)

Ta-Da! The finished products are ready to deliver. (And Max is ready for bed.)

Happy Valentine's Day!

Rachel

I have been putting off this particular post far too long. Those of you who know me in real life already know the heart-breaking story I need to tell, but if you happen to follow my blog without that real-life connection, you have been left waiting.

How I wish I had a happy ending for you. But I don't.

Every time I sit down to type it, I am paralyzed by the enormity of the situation. How can the beauty of a child's life be captured in a blog post? How can grief be expressed in html code and jpegs? It can't, of course. It's absurd.

But here's the thing: the internet is what brought us together in the first place. Though Rachel and I never met face-to-face, my life was greatly impacted by that intangible connection I felt to her and to her mom. Our relationship wasn't just meaningless type floating back and forth through modems and cables. It was real. It was significant.

***

When my son was diagnosed with microcephaly, I turned to the internet. That is where I found the most information and the most support; it was where the true experts were -- other parents. An entire community is gathered here, full of information, stories, pictures, acceptance, help, encouragement, humor, wisdom, support. In the hundreds of online voices, certain ones began to stick out to me. They were the ones that I could identify with most closely -- whether from shared experience, compatible perspectives, similar frustrations, parallel goals, or even sanity-saving humor. I found this common ground with Rachel's mom.

Our two kids had many similarities. They were both physically active, spirited, independent, challenging, charming, loving little rascals that had continued to surprise the experts and shatter predictions. We commiserated over the never-ending messes and frustration of challenging behaviors, and cheered together over milestones met & skills achieved. We laughed about the humorous moments, and warmed at the gentle ones.

Rachel was several years older than Max, so in many ways I viewed her as his role model. None of the textbooks or doctors or specialists could predict Max's future, but I saw a new potential path by looking at Rachel. In her, I caught glimpses of what he might look like in 2-3 years' time. Her astounding success with her talker, with letters and spelling, with problem-solving, with cleverness & humor -- it all helped me to believe that every bit of it was possible. That we needed to keep trying, keep working, keep believing the best, keep expecting more.

And Rachel's mom inspired me, too. She made me feel less alone on this journey. She "got" me. She could hear my deepest fears and darkest thoughts, yet always managed to revel in the mystery, and consistently remained her daughter's number one fan. She reminded me to embrace the magic.

***

The other reason this post is so hard to type is because it's really not my story to share. I feel like I am trespassing on sacred ground.

I am hesitant, knowing that Rachel's story is far deeper than I can post here, and far larger than the small points of overlap with mine. I write this out of a desire to proclaim her bright, shining existence and unforgettable spark. I write this to acknowledge the impact she had on me. I write this to remember.

Rachel left this world just as she once entered it -- with her parents by her side, in a hospital room filled with boundless, endless love.

Her funeral was heart-breaking and beautiful, filled with moments of laughter and rivers of tears, abundant love and wrenching grief. I carried away with me a sense of comfort that is created when shattered hearts are bonded together with the glue of community, soothed with the balm of shared love and the gentle wrappings of memory. I also carried away with me a continuing ache for her family members, who are now forced to redefine themselves, to find a way to carry on, to thrive even in the face of overwhelming grief. A piece of my heart remains with them still, as I long to ease their pain.

There is a large Rachel-sized hole in the world. She leaves behind two younger brothers, her devoted parents, and numerous friends and relatives, neighbors and classmates, teachers and students, doctors and therapists, supporters and admirers -- young and old, near and far, past and present. The number of people whose lives have been touched by this one amazing girl, and forever changed as a result, is inspiring. She brought seemingly disparate lives together. She made all of us become better people. She created an amazing community, for herself and for us, and her memory lives on in our hearts.

Waiting.

A dear friend of mine is in the hospital, at her daughter's side, waiting. Waiting for news, waiting for tests, waiting for results, waiting for miracles, waiting for signs, ....waiting.

Her daughter had a stroke.

My fingers can't begin to understand the import of the words they just typed. My mind can't, either. That is a sentence that simply should not exist.

I can think of little else today as I sit in waiting, my gaze wandering between the quiet stillness of the snow outside my window, and the flame of a candle, lit in honor of sweet Rachel and her fiery spirit, which is burning on the window sill below.

If you are the praying type, please do so.

Wordless Wednesday: Santa Has Been Informed -- Max Wants a Movie

"Cheeeeeeese!"

A Christmas SURPRISE!

Last night I was reading over Max's weekly review sheet from school. It's always helpful to see what they've been working on so I can talk about those things with him here at home. Last week was brought to us by the color red, the number 17, the sign for "snow"....and working on A Christmas Surprise.

I asked Max about each these things, and he got so incredibly excited about the SURPRISE! that he nearly jumped right out of his socks. He kept exclaiming "PIES!" (his version of "SURPRISE!") while beaming from ear to ear and jumping around with glee.

We always joke that our secrets are safe with Max. And when he truly does have a secret, I never ask him to tell me what it is. (Partly because I don't think he would be able to tell me, but mostly because it just isn't fair to tempt him to spill the beans like that.)

But last night, I did.

We were talking back and forth about this fabulous SURPRISE! over and over and over...and finally I just asked, "What is it??"

He yelled, "CAKE!" and then promptly fell off the stool in all his excitement.

His delight was so pure and the novelty of having this SURPRISE! just wasn't wearing off, so I did what I always do at moments like this -- I pulled out the camera for some video footage.

A Christmas Surprise! from Jujyfruit on Vimeo.

I have no idea if the surprise really is cake (as he told me off camera), or if it is a mysterious Christmas-related item that sounds like "Kai-ooo!" (as he told his dad in the video), or if it is something altogether different.

But I can tell you this: I'm really eager to find out. His excitement is contagious!

*****
Also, I wanted to point out that this video captures another one of Max's enduring (and endearing) quirks -- his confusion about using the pronouns "you" and "me." It's an oddly circular grammar rule and our attempts to correct his usage sometimes turn into little "Who's on first?" comedy routines.

Think about it -- how DO you teach that? Modeling doesn't work, because what WE say is always the opposite of what HE should say. My brother actually tried switching them once, saying "you" as he pointed to himself and then "me" as he pointed to Max...but then Max mimicked, just the way we always want him to, and the pronouns were still exactly opposite.

Oh, to get inside that brain of his!

Back to the Basics...and True Mom Confessions

Max was sick all weekend and stayed home from school on Monday. It's not often that he and I are home all alone, just the two of us, for an entire day.

True Mom Confession: I sort of like sick days with kids. I mean when they aren't TOO sick and miserable, of course. I'm talking about those sort-of sick days, when they are almost better, but not completely. They're bored from all that time spent feeling lousy and laying around and watching TV and sleeping, so they're totally ready to DO something. But at the same time, they're still feeling kind of fragile. That means they are highly moldable. Snuggle-able. Content. Energy is low, but connections are high. They're glad simply to be feeling better, and suddenly realize they can reap the benefits of all that precious one-on-one time. Don't get me wrong -- my kids get vaccinated and we wash hands frequently and if you have the flu you will definitely not be welcomed here! I'm just sayin'...a slight illness now and then is actually kinda nice. Does that make me a bad mom? (Or just an honest one?)

So anyway. Monday was a day like that. The worst was over, Max was happy, the house was quiet, his usual tv shows had FINALLY lost their allure. It was the perfect day to go back to the basics, where basics equals all those good things I used to do when the kids were little that I don't really do anymore.

The most exciting thing we did was making homemade play dough. Max enjoyed the cooking process (though was very upset that I wouldn't let him stir the burning hot pan of ingredients or play with it immediately), and he had fun choosing which two colors to add to the finished product.

We played with the dough for a long time. Each time his attention began to fade, I pulled out a new trick. Stamps! Knives! Cookie cutters! Look -- PRETEND PIZZAS! He requested that I make violins, which I actually managed to do. Then he wanted me to make his favorite Christmas song. (That one totally stumped me.) I distracted him by making one of his other favorite things, instead -- his name.

This was a good day, illness and all.

Just a nice quiet day with a boy and his mom.

And some play dough.

Having said all that, it's now high time for Max to go back to school.

*Giving him Sudafed and quickly wiping away the tell-tale line of snot as I push him out the door and wave merrily at the bus driver.*

Because here's my other True Mom Confession: I really, really, REALLY love school days, too.

Wordless Wednesday: Chex Mix....for Breakfast?

(Sure, why not?)

(Yep, corn nuts, garlic salt, and all...!)

(Signing "X")

Sick.

The string incident should have been my first clue. Yes, Max is sensitive to strings, but such a STRONG reaction should have made me realize he was feeling slightly "off" in general.

Clearly, the runny nose was a second clue. But it wasn't that bad. (As I said, it was clear. heh.)

So there were signs. But none of them was a flashing red arrow.

But then I happened upon this scene:

THAT, my friends, is a Flashing Red Arrow. (As well as one of the saddest little scenes I've come across in a while.)

Max loves his videos with a passion. It's a loud, messy, hands-on, interactive, busy type of passion. For him, watching videos is practically a sport. We are constantly reminding him to pick ONE movie, to turn down the volume, to back up, to sit down, to LEAVE THE BATTERIES IN THE REMOTE, and COME DOWN FROM THERE!

But today he was in a dark room. All by himself. With a barely audible soundtrack from one silently spinning DVD. He was perched on a hard ledge at the far opposite end of the room, quietly rubbing his shirt seams. He hasn't made a single peep, yet the message is loud and clear.

Max is sick.

The Only String We Have to Fear...

Strings, yarn, dangling ties, long fringe -- they're all banned in our house. The reason is simple; they make Max puke. It's not enough just to keep the offending strings out of his face or away from his fingers, either. He gags on sight alone.

Today I wore a new sweater. (You already see where this is going, right?) I put it on after Max left for school this morning, so didn't give much thought to the draw strings dangling so flamboyantly and offensively down the front. The sweater is a basic gray, zip-up, hoodie type --the kind of thing I often wear -- so I promptly proceeded to forget about it, actually. I wore it all day without a second thought....until Max got home.

I was standing in the driveway to greet the bus, like normal. And he started down the stairs, like normal, but then something changed. He gave me a weird look and then he stopped in his tracks, refusing to budge. I didn't catch on to what was happening, so I moved in even closer to grab his hand and coax him on down the stairs, tugging at him while I rolled my eyes and chatted cluelessly with the driver. Then Max stepped down onto the driveway, turned dramatically away from me, leaned over, and puked. Repeatedly.

Oops.

In that split second, I suddenly realized what the problem was and grabbed my strings, tucked them out of sight, then wrapped my arms around myself to keep everything firmly in place and securely hidden. Max followed me -- warily, at a distance -- into the house while I assured him we were going straight to the scissors to cut those strings off.

Max hovered near the sink (just in case) while witnessing the operation, and then continued to give those strings the ol' stink eye while I quickly photographed them lying on the counter. (What? It only took a second!)

Order has been restored. All is well. Nevertheless, we have officially upgraded our household security alert to Code Orange. We urge you to go about your regular business, but PLEASE, remain on the lookout for any suspicious strings in the area and report them to your nearest authorities! Thank you.

Happy Thanksgiving

Don't you love craft projects that your kids bring home from school? I do. (Seriously, I do!) I especially love this turkey that Max brought home because I can tell he really did glue those feathers on all by himself.

May your day be filled with thanksgiving & laughter, friends & family....and syrupy waffles. (grin)

TapToTalk for Nintendo DS!

(click the button to visit the product website)

Last night I was browsing on the Teaching Learners With Multiple Special Needs blog and saw the most intriguing post -- Two Ways to Make Nintendo DS an AAC Device. (Three cheers for Kate!)

I have been scouring the web for more information and have decided that this might be IT, you guys! This might be exactly what we've been looking for! It runs on a Nintendo, people. A NINTENDO!



You have heard me repeatedly grappling with the issue of communication, and with the frustratng and overwhelming task of finding an appropriate AAC device for my son. And, honestly, this is the first thing I've seen in several years that I am ready to BUY.

Here's why.

• First of all, it has a dynamic display.* We've tried devices in the past that have only one level, but they are way too basic for our purposes. We've tried devices that can switch between several pre-programmed levels with different printable sheets or cards to swap in and out, but they are impractical (and, again, too limiting). On the other end of the spectrum are the very sophisticated dynamic display formats with so many levels and choices that my son gets completely lost or distracted. The TapToTalk program seems to offer a solid middle ground, which is what we need right now.

*Dynamic display means the user can navigate through levels by selecting options and advancing through screen after screen with increasingly narrow/specific options. Go to the online TapToTalk demo to try it for yourself.

• I'm listing this second, but it's a major selling point: TapToTalk is affordable. The one-year subscription cost for the TapToTalk service is only $99 -- a far cry from the $7,000-$9,000 price tags we've been dismayed to find on other devices. We already have a Nintendo DS, so for around a hundred dollars we could be set up! Not only does that relieve an enormous amount of pressure for making The "Perfect" AAC Decision, but it also means there's no major funding required, and therefore no insurance, no paperwork, no waiting period, no grant-writing, no approvals, no jumping through hoops, either! (In addition, the company offers a 30-day return policy, so if I'm not impressed with it, I could actually send it back and put that hundred dollars right back in the AAC fund. There's no risk.)
  


• It looks doable. I know this kind of programming always takes more time than I expect it to, but there are lots of good online tutorials and it really doesn't look complicated. I could start out with a basic outline for immediate use, and then tweak and edit and continue to build over time as needed; the customizing potential is great. In addition, the program navigation is so intuitive that I know we can hit the ground running and not get bogged down in learning a new language or reading complex training manuals. That's important, because there are very few resources or specialists in this area to turn to for assistance; I am, by necessity, the expert. I can do this!
  

• It's replaceable. My son is hard on electronic equipment. I mean *really* hard. He loves hand-held games and players....but it's still very likely that he will get too rough, or throw it, or drop it, or mess with the hinges, or pull on the cords, etc. (We have a Nerf protective shell and screen clings for ours, but I am still worried about those fragile hinges....) But this is basic, light-weight gaming equipment we're talking about! The hardware (platform) itself could be replaced, and the software is accessible online. That means the content can be downloaded again if anything goes missing. Breakage would not be a major tragedy; I really like that.
  

• Nintendo DS is a familiar platform for my son. He can already navigate on a Gameboy, and he's watched his older brother play on a DS many times. I'm confident he can figure this program out very quickly. In addition to being small, portable, and readily available, this system would also let him be just like his brother. (That's highly motivating stuff, right there.)
  

Is anybody else out there as excited as I am? I can't wait to get my hands my son's hands on this!

I have no idea whether this program will prove to be a disappointing flop, a valuable stepping stone, or a permanent solution for communicating with our son...but I am absolutely thrilled to discover TapToTalk as such a wonderfully practical and accessible AAC option!

Losing My Marbles

I'm going to tell you about a dream I had last night. Because everybody loves that! (I'm saying that tongue-in-cheek, of course, having finally un-glazed my own eyes after an extremely detailed recounting I was just forced to listen to over breakfast.)

Seriously, I do realize that making you read about my dream is kind of weird, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'll keep it short.

*****
This happened, that happened, another thing happened...and then I found myself leading Max through a crowded balcony to go sit with someone I could see about halfway up. The balcony was in a church, and the church service was in progress. It was very quiet, and we were facing rows of people, and I was trying to make our entrance as discreetly as possible.

Now the thing that made this whole scenario really challenging (and dreamlike, and worthy of repeating) was that Max kept turning into a marble.

The balcony was full of pews and steps and hard, echo-y floors (not to mention all the people with their feet and purses and WATCHING EYES) and my marble just kept rolling out of reach, ricocheting, dropping loudly down the stairs, and landing in the darnedest places. I kept shuffling through areas and reaching under people's seats to retrieve my little marble, and would set it back on track, only to have it roll away once again. I didn't know why my marble wasn't following me better through that maze of balcony, but I kept trying again and again and again.

The entire incident was confusing and frustrating and embarrassing and thank goodness, I woke up.

(Don't really need a dream interpretation manual for this one, eh?)

*****
Incidentally, the photo at the top of this post is one I took a couple weeks ago after noticing the bathroom door wasn't shutting correctly.

Coincidence?

Viola.

This has absolutely nothing to do with my son or microcephaly or anything at all, really, but I just realized that I accidentally typed "viola!" instead of "voila!" back there. I couldn't help myself -- I HAD to go back and correct it.

But now I have the giggles and almost wish I had just left it alone. I mean, who couldn't use a little laugh as they randomly stumble across that typo over time, right?

I'm thinking about adopting it as my new go-to exclamation. It's clean, it's catchy, it lends itself well to dramatic pronunciation, and it works to express everything from breathless appreciation ("Ooooo, Veeeeohhhhlaaaa!") to an angry expletive ("Oh Vi-O-La!!") -- or even an insult ("They don't know VIT from VYE-OLA!")!

Viola. heh.

Spackle & Patch

I decided I really need to go back and fill in some of the cracks and holes in this blog. So, I just finished up a bit of site repair and filled in some of those neglected spots with a few old posts I'd been sitting on for no apparent reason. (I mean, other than reasons like...hitting the spellcheck button seemed too exerting, or the post had no ending, or I fell asleep instead, or something.)

But -- voila! I deemed them "complete" and posted them.

Where can you find these virtual spackle & patch editions? Just scroll back.

Or, if you prefer, use this handy dandy guide:

1. We saw chicks.
2. Siblings had issues, part seventy-two.
3. We went to the zoo.
4. Max went to another zoo.
5. Max got a swimsuit.
6. We went on vacation. (In progress)

There are a few other posts that I'll be finishing up and adding in real time, because they didn't seem chronologically significant. (So if you notice Max's teeth randomly falling out and re-appearing, or his hair growing with bizarre speed, don't be concerned.) It'll all work out in the end.

Halloween

Halloween was fun this year. Max totally "got" trick-or-treating this time, and his excitement was rather contagious.

(Plus, he loved his costume -- Steve from Blue's Clues, who else??)


We walked around with him for about an hour. (Or I should say, we followed him for about an hour!) He was on a mission -- cutting through yards, scooting past small children, stomping up porch steps, eagerly gathering treats.

We reminded him repeatedly, "Walk! Stay on the sidewalk! Only ONE! Say 'thank you!'" And though he would forget intermittently, he would get back on track and followed through amazingly well. Actually, the biggest problem turned out to be that whenever he spotted a live flame, he tried to blow it out. (He did manage to at a couple of houses.)

He managed this long walk ALONE -- passed the test with flying colors.

He loved watching the kids walk by, and would get up verrrrry close and curious with the little ones.

Ben's brother and friend posed in character...and Max followed their lead.

The moving decorations were favorites of his, too -- he would try to peek under ghost sheets or stick his hand in the rattling bones or poke the moving eyeball. But we were never far behind and kept him moving along.

He loved this interactive candy bowl. The hand flipped down and startled him again and again.

He was thrilled every time we encountered someone he knew. He was greeted with "Hi, Max!" many times throughout the night, and loved telling everyone he was Steve.

We found Sissy!

Suddenly, Max announced that he was all done. He was satisfied and ready to start eating!

It was a fun night.