My sister is in Savannah hanging with Paula Deen

Yes, THE Paula Deen.

The maven of butter, cream cheese, heavy whipping cream, and fat back.

She's the woman who convinced us all that the cooking shows of the 1990s with their fat-free plastic-tasting cheese, steamed broccoli, and tofurkey need to quit trying to reinvent the wheel and start cooking real food for real people.

She cooks the food our forefather's grew up eating: Collard greens with ham hocks, buttermilk fried chicken, red skinned mashed potatoes, and shrimp and grits.

Well, this week my sister, Caryn, is rubbing elbows with Paula in her kitchen in Savannah, Georgia as one of the appetizer finalists in The Real Women of Philadelphia cooking contest.

Off and on all week I have been behind the scenes of Caryn's blog adding content, pictures, and videos. Making buttons, and sending Facebook messages out in support of her and her awesome Sassy Tailgate Sandwiches.

So yeah, that's why I have been rather incognito here on my own humble blog.  Well, that and soaking up all the sunshine (and gaining the sunburn to prove it) over at Casa de Grasshoppa with my bloggy BFF both last Friday and then again yesterday.

Next we are planning to celebrate the Fourth of July together which should be nothing short of hilarious.  I plan on super-gluing magnets to the caps of all her chapstick and sunscreen tubes and then tying a magnified knife block to her midsection.

If you don't get the joke you really must check out her blog.

Chillin poolside with my bloggy BFF

The Grasshoppa and I lounging poolside

On Friday the Trouble Brothers and I made a trek to the land of the The Grasshoppa for a day of rest, relaxation, swimming, and severe sunburning (oh wait, that was just me).

Our kids got along famously and the boys stayed in the pool the entire time we were there from 1:00pm to 7:00pm.  Each only got out once for a grilled cheese sandwich break.

Noah and the noodle swimming in the deep end

Fish out of water...but only for a moment

Clearly Sam did not enjoy himself one bit

See what I mean...he totally hates the pool.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

As for my sunburn...well, lets just say that on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being Edward Cullen and 10 being a freshly steamed lobster I am registering around a 12.3

In fact, I considered snapping a photo for you of the devestation that is my chest, shoulders and back but by doing so I would be half naked and I decided that searing the corneas of my readers was not in my blog's best interest....or yours. 

And yes, I did put on sunscreen.  But apparently I did not apply enough or did not apply it as frequently as I should have.  It was a total SPF50 FAIL.

A Day in The Banshee's Not-So-Hip Life

If you want to see what my day looks like you're going to have to head on over to Jen's blog, Hip As I Wanna Be, and take a gander at all the awesomness that awaits.

And by awesome I mean Jen and her amazing ability to make everything she does a rousing success while balancing a business, a non-profit, wifedom, motherhood, and training for the NYC marathon.  And she does it all with a smile.

My part is much more lacking in the awesome department.

Shocking, I know.

The Banshee's Guide on what NOT to buy if you are having a baby

The idea for this blog post popped into my head on Saturday morning when I was picking up some last minute gifts for my BFF Becky.

Walking through the baby aisles I was struck by countless baby items that are completely void of use, massively overrated, and one that made me sad that it even needed to be marketed and sold at all.

I am no expert in infant merchandising but I am a mom of 2 and we certainly received our share of baby gifts when they were infants and toddlers. On top of that my boys have autism and therefore their infant and toddler-hood was lively, sometimes exhausting, many time joyful, and almost always frustrating.  They put the "extreme" in parenthood and gave this blog its name.

I figured the least I could do is share my Top 10 guide on what NOT to buy if you are expecting a baby (or expected to buy a baby gift for someone else)

1)  Stretch mark and breast lift creams
It turns out some women's skin has more elasticity and is resilient to the stretching of the skin during pregnancy.  This fact has nothing to do with what the woman may or may not have rubbed all over her expanding waistline.  It is not the cream that makes the woman's skin more elastic.  It is her genes.

However, if a woman goes through pregnancy and then breastfeeds she is in for a real treat.  Those perky breasts she once had are going to change.  Not necessarily for the worse, but they will not be what they were before.  The idea that a cream can help "lift" the girls back up to their perky status after pregnancy and breastfeeding is asinine.

Dare to dream sweetie, but take it from me... your rack is going to need a whole lot more support than a simple cream can provide to raise them back up to where they once perched.

2)  Fancy-schmancy hospital gowns 
Everyone imagines what giving birth will be and most of us (if we are honest) can say it was nothing like what we expected.  I remember when I was pregnant with Sam wanting to have a pretty gown to wear in the hospital and cute socks to wear so that the first thing he would see when he came out was how pretty his mama looked waiting to welcome him to the world.

I have seen some of these custom-made gowns online and they are selling for upwards of $119.00 a piece.
WHAT??  For that amount the woman who made it should have to endure the pain of childbirth for you!

What a crock!  The fact is I ended up with a C-section and that pretty hospital gown was replaced with a standard hospital gown.  The cute socks were spattered with blood the first time I stood up the day after my surgery and the fact is your sweet little baby could care less what you look like.  In fact, nobody in the room will care one whit what you look like because they are all there to see THE BABY!


3)  Manual Breast Pump
If you are going to be breastfeeding you will need to use a pump either for when you return to work or to make it possible for someone else to feed the little darling with a bottle while you catch up on sleep run some errands.

When I was breastfeeding Sam I didn't know any better and I figured a manual hand-pump style breast pump would be perfectly fine for getting the job done.  Its not!  Not even close.

Do yourself a really big favor and register for the dual-boob battery operated pump.  It is not cheap but that machine will save you numerous hand cramps and bouts of carpal tunnel flare ups.  Not to mention the dual boob option gets both the girls done at the same time!

The battery powered double breast pump by Medela is Banshee Approved!

4)  Heated Baby Wipes Warmer

Both times I was pregnant I had women who swore by their love for the heated baby wipes warmer.  They said it made their children soooo much calmer during diaper changes and it just felt nicer than a cold wipe out of some random plastic container.

Well, I am here to tell you that those women were crazy.  or delusional.  or maybe both.

Because in my experience with my sons anytime I would change their diaper, be in daytime or the middle of the night, they cried if the wipe was warm or cold.  They could have cared less about the temperature of the item on their butt.  What they did care about was how soon it would be before they got that bottle they were screaming for.

5)  Crib Bedding Sets

I admit that when I was daydreaming about what my children's nursery would look like I always imagined those beautiful sleigh cribs with the plush colorful bedding sets complete with sheets, crib bumper, baby blanket, pillow, and dust ruffle.

Then I looked at their price tag.

$189.00???  Are you kidding me?

Then there is the often forgotten fact that a baby can become entangled in a crib surrounded by a bumper and can smother under a pillow or blanket that gets too close to their face.  All you have to do is watch a 2 or 3 month old pitching a fit in their crib to see how easily either of those situations could happen.

I wasn't willing to take any risks when my boys were born.  They slept in a bed with a fitted sheet, no bumper, no blanket, and certainly no pillows.  I simply dressed them in blanket sleepers and in the winter I sometimes doubled them up so they stayed warm.

6)  Pacifier Wipes, Boogie Wipes, and any wipe not meant for a baby's butt:

They seem to have wipes for everything now.  Boogers, antibacterial pacifier wipes and special wipes for a woman's breasts for before and after she breastfeeds.

If someone buys these items for you as a baby gift than by all means use them.  But, what you will find out rather quickly is that the baby wipes you buy for your sweet little baby's butt are the same wipes you will end up using for everything!  

Heck, to this day I still use baby wipes to remove my makeup (when I actually wear it) or to simply freshen up when I'm feeling hot and sweaty.  When one of my kids had a giant bugger on their nose, I used a baby wipe (or their shirt if I was going to be changing them anyway).  When Sam dropped his pacifier on the ground (which thankfully he only used for the first 6 weeks of his life) I washed it off with water or better yet I popped it in my mouth to clean it off.

I realize these may not be the most hygienic ways of keeping our children or ourselves clean but when you are juggling a baby, carseat, diaper bag, and another toddler I think most mothers would admit they reach for what is closest at hand.

And that's usually a baby wipe.

7)  Prenatal "Education" Systems

No, I am not kidding.  

They actually sell a band that a pregnant woman wears around her ever-expanding belly that plays music and rhythms to train your baby in utero.  They tout this product as ensuring your child be "born more alert and responsive, nurse better, sleep better, and later in life, enjoy improved school readiness".  The pregnant woman is supposed to wear this band twice a day for an hour each time and its best to start the program between 18-32 weeks of pregnancy.  

I have no idea how a product like this even exists.  Its ridiculous, Frivolous, and totally stupid. (and you can quote me on that).  

Want to know what the Banshee thinks you should do to ensure a happy, healthy baby?

Get plenty of sleep (because the opportunity to do so will be gone before you know it), eat healthy amounts of fruit, vegetables and whole grains, drink plenty of fluids, and do some sort of light exercise that does not raise your heart rate above 150 bpm 3 times a week.

Thats it!  

Good nutrition, light exercise, and a good night's rest is the best gift you can give your unborn child.

8)  Dreft Laundry Detergent

This is an easy one...just switch to a fragrance-free & dye-free clothes detergent and wash everyone's clothing in it.  That way you aren't doing a special load of laundry for the baby's items and wasting a ton of water and money on an expensive fancy-schmancy detergent.

9)  Swings, Bouncy Seats and Exersaucers

If these items work for your baby and soothe them to sleep or entertain them long enough for you to take a shower or cook dinner than I will be the first one to shout hallelujah from the highest hilltop at their success.

But in my experience with 2 very different babies is that they will either love it or hate it.  There is no middle ground.  No shades of gray.  Your baby will either scream the moment you put them in it or happily lounge there all day and sleep in it at night.  If that is the case for your child you are truly blessed!

Thankfully I never shelled out the $50-$100.00 price tag for some of these items myself.  I received all of them as baby gifts or I bought them super cheap at yard sales.  In fact, my boys hated them so much that their Dad and I used to refer to them as the "neglectomatic" because of how they would know if we put .

10)  MilkScreen Alcohol Tests for Breast Milk

This product both angers and saddens me.  On the one hand I am quite aware that many a midwife or lactation consultant will advise a nursing mother to drink a beer in the evening when she is tired and her milk supply is waning.  Something about the hops or the barley in the beer help boost milk production.  But, that is 1 beer.  Not a 6 pack and certainly not a kegger in the backyard on a hot summer night. 

When I was breastfeeding Sam I drank a beer some nights when I was exhausted and my milk supply was sorely lacking in response to the demands being placed upon it.  What is funny is that the boys' Dad has an affinity for the more costly brews and would stare at me in shock and disdain as I held my nose and downed the beer as quickly as I could so I could then go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and mouth to remove the horrid taste.  You could say I was not a beer lover.  or liker even.

However, the idea that some women may drink so much that they need to test their milk ahead of time to ensure its "safe" to feed to their baby is downright ludicrous.  It makes me sad that we even have to have a product like this on the market at all.  But I know we do.

I think that if a woman wasn't going to eat it, smoke it, or drink it when she was pregnant she shouldn't do it after the baby comes out and is breastfeeding either.  If she is going to go out on the town with the girls for an all night bender she should NOT be breastfeeding her baby the next morning with milk that is now tainted with whatever kamikaze or Alabama slammer she downed the night before to excess.

However, if she does so anyway she can use this handy-dandy kit to test her milk and tell her what common sense should have already....

Get out the formula and bottles and take 2 Tylenol for that hangover, Lady.

Meet my best friend, Becky.

I talk about Becky a lot on my blog, she even has her own tag "My BFF Becky" that I use whenever we have an adventure together or just a funny story to tell.

If you have seen my Facebook page you will note that almost all of the pictures have either her or one of her kids, Adam and Katie, included in every family party or get together.

That is because to me she is family.

I think of her as my third sister.

Only without all the awkward sibling rivalry.

Becky and I met at the beginning of the summer four years ago when I was in the midst of an unhappy marriage and she had just buried her sweet doggie, Jezabel. 

Only the second week I knew Becky she invited me and my boys over to swim in her backyard pool.  I remember turning her down immediately without even thinking about it.  I explained that because of my boys' autism going to other people's homes was impossible.  They touch everything, open all the doors and run amok, and they have been known to locate every Sharpie marker in the house and then color on walls, furniture, family pets, and infants.  (True story!)

Becky's immediate response, "So?"

I think I may have told her I loved her.

So, we went to her house that first day and had the most amazing time.  The boys could have cared less about the house once they saw the backyard with the swimming pool, jungle gym, sand box, and the large fenced yard where they could run and have fun.  We ate watermelon, drank lemonade, and played cards late that afternoon at my house.

 Then there was the time we decided to carve pumpkins together.
 
I made the mouth of my pumpkin much too big and Becky came up with a great plan.  We cut a large tongue and eyes out of crafting felt and Becky collected some empty beer bottles from her house and brought them over and thus our twisted drunk Halloween pumpkin was born.

No, we're not right in the head.

That's why we get along so well.

By far my favorite thing about Becky is that she loves my boys.  She "gets" them and their antics.  She changes their diapers when needed, she comes over and sits with them while I run some errands, go to a doctor's appointment, or just go in my room and take a nap.  She has never once shied away from them or treated them differently from any other child.

When my marriage was ending to the boys' dad Becky was the one who came over every day and helped me paint the.entire.house.  Every single room, bathroom, and living space had to be repainted and Becky was the one who dared life and limb on a 12' step ladder to help me finish it all.

When moving day came and the boys and I were moving into an apartment Becky enlisted not only the help of her husband but his 2 brothers as well.

On countless occasions when I was a single mom working full time she would shown up on my doorstep and tell me to leave.   

To leave my house.  

She did it because she understood the stress I was under.  The constant attempt to tread the waves of autism and how sometimes it gets hard to keep your head above water.

Becky was and has always been my life preserver.

 Summer 2009

She makes me laugh when all I want to do is scream.  She brings me ice cream or peanut butter gelato when I'm depressed.  She has infinite patience with both me and most especially with my boys.  She doesn't take any pity party crap and when she can tell I'm wallowing she snaps me out of it.

But the awesomeness that is Becky is not limited to just her.

Her children, Adam and Katie, are a Godsend to my boys and to me.

They understand that my boys are different than most and they embrace it.

Adam taught Sam how to play a rudimentary version of hide and seek this year in which Sam could care less if he is found or not.  He just loves the back and forth routine of hiding and seeking.

Noah loves to lay down in front of the TV and gaze up at the television as the show plays and I have many times found Adam or Katie laying down next to him and watching too.

Katie has a very special heart for my boys and she will bring her violin over for a special occasion and play it for them.  She hugs and kisses them and knows exactly what to do to make each of my boys happy.

Neither Adam or Katie have ever lost their patience with Sam or Noah.  They are patient and forgiving to the end and they look out for the boys when we go out into the public and report back if someone is saying mean or hurtful things to the boys.  They understand that if someone hurts my boys they will not be able to tell me what happened.  So, they stick close and engage them in fun activities themselves.

**************

In 6 weeks Becky will welcome a new baby into the family.  A sweet little baby girl that was never expected and yet has already blessed our lives. 

This post was supposed to be about the baby shower that was held on Saturday.  I had pictures all lined up ready to go and I had a plan of what I was going to say about each of them.  But, then I started writing and I realized the post I really wanted to write was about Becky and how her friendship has blessed me.

I want to thank her for giving me the best gift I never knew I needed....

Her friendship.

***All Points Bulletin***

It has been confirmed by the Boob Guy (AKA: Breast Surgeon Big Wig) that the girls are "beautiful" inside and out and that my current issues with said boobs are nothing more than an over-indulgence in caffeine.

So, the good news is that its not cancer.

The bad news is that the pot of coffee, gallon of iced tea, and 2-3 cherry coke zeros I drink on a daily basis will have to become a thing of the past.

Time will tell if I will survive their loss.

The odds are not good.

This is the post where I show you my boobs

Bet that got your attention, huh?

For those of you who may be questioning my morals and values you can put the pitchfork down cause I'm not going to actually show you my boobs.

Except I am.

Just not the way you were thinking, you perv.

Today I went to the radiologist and picked up my last mammogram and ultrasound films that were taken in December of 2008.

Clearly I am a closet Web M.D. medical pro so I came home and immediately looked at each of the films on my professional light box (AKA:  My patio door).

Obviously I have no class whatsoever since I  could care less if my neighbors saw my boobs.  My husband on the other hand, may have other feelings about that.

This is my right boob.

The one that got me into all this drama in the first place.

Lets just say this isn't the first time my girls have got me into trouble.

One by one I looked at the films and tried to self-diagnose myself as cancer free.  I may or may not have googled the phrase, "what cancer looks like on a mammogram" and the words, "breast calcification".  

 

Apparently the radiologists report said I have a "solitary calcification" in my left breast which before reading it today I had not known.  

 

 It'd be nice if they had marked where the calcification is located.

Call me crazy but that little nugget of information might have been nice to pass along to me.  You know, since I am the patient and the one hauling around said boobs.

But what do I know?

The report also said that my right breast has nodularity that is "probably benign".

Probably?

Last time I checked "probably" was not a scientific evaluation.  Its also not the kind of word a patient wants to hear.

"Its probably not cancer."

Hey, here's a thought.  Lets run a few more tests and go for a "HELL NO!! its not cancer."

THAT, my friends, is what a person wants to hear when they go in for a diagnostic test.

So, tomorrow me and my girls are heading to see a breast surgeon.  This doctor is obviously a boob man and looks at, touches, and compares thousands of boobs a year.  His hands and eyes are trained to look for cancer in breasts and then obliterate it.

No matter what he may find or what he might say the one thing I am banking on is that he will not use the word "probably".

My Insurance company can bite my ass.

Yeah, I know.

You're all thinking about how just last week I wrote a post in which I said I intensely dislike swearing.

Except I failed to mention the short list of words I do not consider to be swear words.

The formal list being:

• Ass
• Crap
• Damn
• Hell

Anycrap... This week I have been spending my time getting my insurance cards in a row because you can be damn sure I am not going to show up at my appointment at the GBMC Breast Care Center and have them tell me either my doctor's office did not fax over my referral or my insurance requires pre-certification before I can see the doctor.

So, on Monday I called my good friends at United Healthcare and began what I was praying sure was going to be a very quick call.

It wasn't.


45 minutes later I did get the answers to some of my questions.  The first being that I do not need pre-certification to see the specialist, but I do need a referral from my primary care physician.  When I asked what radiology company I could go to for any subsequent testing I might need I was told she didn't know because the computer system that gives her that information was down. She then suggested I just wait until I saw the doctor and found out what tests he wants me to have done and then call back and speak to a completely different representative who would advise me on which radiology facilities were in my network.

This was when I might have lost it just a little bit.

I may or may not have asked the kind young lady to imagine it was her breast that was acting strange and that her doctor had suggested she take it to go see a specialist.  I may or may not have asked her how she would feel trying to navigate the intricacies of the health care insurance website that was beyond vague and filled with loopholes all while wondering if what she was facing was a cancer diagnosis?  I then may or may not have asked her very nicely if she could please just give me the information I need instead of making me wait until after I had seen the doctor and had words like MRI, mammogram, and ultrasound running through my brain.

Turns out she couldn't.  Because her system was down too.

Well Ass, Crap, Damn, Hell that just bites the big one.

Why We Relay

Last Saturday Team WhyMommy walked in support of the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life in Catonsville, Maryland. 

We relayed in honor of those who are fighting and surviving cancer and in memory of those we've lost.

This year we relayed proudly for our friend, Susan, and for my dad who has fought cancer twice and continues to survive and thrive.

We also relayed for many members of Lara's family.

Setup began Saturday at noon and while stifling hot... at least it wasn't raining!

By 5:00 Lara's family arrived and we finished the final decorations on Team WhyMommy Central and opened up our bake sale for business!

Welcome to Team WhyMommy Central!

Opening ceremonies began at 7:00 and as is customary with every Relay For Life the first lap is dedicated to cancer survivors and their caretakers.

Upon completion of the survivor's lap the fun began with a different theme for every half hour.  Some teams picked a theme for their team and really played it up.  My personal favorite group of the night was Gail's Gang that decked themselves out in a 1980s Prom Theme and offered costumes and a great backdrop for anyone wanting their own "prom" photo!

Gail's Gang and their awesome 80s Prom Theme

The great thing about the Relay For Life is that there is something for everyone, even the kids have activities, face painting, and moon bounces galore!  All night long there were families relaying together.  Young children with their parents or grandparents, babies being pushed in their strollers, and some were lucky enough to be carried on the necks of their parents!

The DiPaola kids were too cute for words!

At 9:00 the Relay For Life took a reflective pause to remember those who have lost their battle with cancer.  A bagpiper in full regalia was on site and played a hauntingly beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace.  All around us the darkness was highlighted by the glow of luminaries and the real message of Relay...HOPE!

All night long the fun continued with more themed laps, zumba dancing at 10:00, and bingo at 2:00 am.  All during the night I saw some slumbering, more walking, and even a few brave souls running the track.

My pals over at Gail's Gang were back for the Pajama laps which took place around 1:00 in the morning.

 

These 2 ladies were rockin the Elmo and Sock Monkey PJs!

The event was both amazing and exhausting all rolled into one. 

But, I think that is the point.

For one night a year we push our bodies and our minds past the point of pain and exhaustion.  We forgo sleep and the comfort of our bed at home and we force ourselves to keep moving, albeit slower, towards the light of dawn and a new day.

It occurs to me that my 1 night of sleep deprivation and painful blisters on my feet are a drop in the bucket compared to what a cancer patient and their caregivers undergo on a daily basis with the many surgeries, radiation and chemo treatments. 

I cannot fathom the emotional toll they and their families must endure. 

For many cancer patients the goal may be simply making it through one more day.  Every day.  Until the day comes they are told the cancer is in remission and they can slowly pick up their lives that were abruptly put on hold.

For others the light of dawn may be their first steps upon the streets of heaven when the cancer they fought was too large for their bodies to survive.

We relay most especially for those who's families are left to carry on without their loved ones.  For those who have paid the ultimate price.

We relay in hopes that no other family will have to endure the loss of a child, a spouse, or a parent.

And until the day comes that our children or our grand-children see the word "CANCER" in a textbook and they ask their teacher what that word means...

We will Relay to make that happen.

Something is not right

And I have ignored it for far too long.

I'm going to see my doctor today.

I should have done this more than a month ago.

But I kept telling myself that its probably nothing and if I'm right then I've wasted a whole day confirming that fact.

But... If its something then I will kick myself for waiting and hoping it was nothing.

You see, its my breast.  My boob is not working right.


My right boob to be exact.

Its always had a lump.  It developed when I was 14 and the doctor said it was a cyst and it would probably go away on its own.  Well, it hasn't.

18 months ago I noticed a hardening on a different part of that same breast.  The doctor said it was probably nothing and sent me for a mammogram and ultrasound just to be safe.  Both tests determined I had more cysts.  Quite a few more.  They said I should come back in 6 months for a repeat mammogram.

I didn't.

I was in the middle of a divorce, doing the single mother raising 2 boys with autism and working full time thing.  I figured if something was really wrong they wouldn't have shrugged it off and said to just wait and see.  If they weren't worrying about it why should I?

Cause now I have something to worry about.

In the past few months the same breast has become lumpier, it aches and I have a spot that feels like a bruise but no bruise can be seen.

And then there is the itching.  It starts in my armpit and gets so bad that I use a hairbrush to itch at it.  And its not the skin, its something inside I can't get to.

I know for a fact that this is not normal.  Not at all.

I have too many friends and friends of friends who have had these same issues with their breast and it was always the same problem.

Cancer.

That is what really scares the holy hell out of me.

What if its cancer?

What in the world would I do then?

So, I went to the doctor and told her my family history with cancer.  My great-grandmother who had breast cancer and either uterine or ovarian cancer on top of it.  My dad who has survived two bouts of cancer.  The first time it was testicular and the second, prostate.  

I told her I wanted to rule out cancer.  And she agreed.

She didn't send me for another mammogram and ultrasound.

Instead she is referring me to a breast surgeon.  A surgeon who specializes in breast cancer.  She agreed that what I described and what she felt was outside her realm of expertise and when we're talking about a problem with your breast you go and see an expert.

I called and made my appointment.  I'm going next Friday to see a breast surgeon.  He'll do an exam, look at my old mammogram and ultrasound and then probably want to run some tests of his own.

But I am really hoping he's going to tell me the girl's are beautiful, perfect, and despite having a bit too many stretch marks, absolutely normal.

But what if he doesn't?

Do you kiss your Mama with that mouth?

There are few things in this world that make my skin crawl.

There are the obvious culprits: Spiders, Pedophiles, swimsuit shopping, and that freak Carrot Top.

::shudder::

But at the top of my list is something that will probably surprise a lot of you.

I am a total prude when it comes to four letter words.



When I hear a teenager or a grown adult throwing around swear words like they are a part of regular conversation it makes me cringe. They make not see me physically do it but mark my words inside I am screaming, "Do you kiss your Mama with that mouth?"

What will surprise you even more is to hear that I haven't always been so extreme in my hatred of cuss words.

In fact, as a teenager I could have cared less how anyone around me spoke. I threw out expletives as a part of a conversation and found it was a powerful way to end a sentence with a certain amount of oomph that without left my point lacking. I didn't care who heard me and if they didn't like it I probably had a really descriptive way of telling them where they could go.



Then somewhere around 2001 that all changed.

It seems like overnight I saw all the four letter words and expletives for what they really were. My failure to really say how I feel in words that gave those feelings power of their own on their own. I realized I didn't need to add some hyped up swear word at the end of my sentence to make my point. My point was powerful enough in and of itself.

I was also struck by how swearing at a person was one of the lowest forms of disrespect I could show towards them. And I was taken aback by just how horrible it felt to be on the receiving end of those words.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words hurt more than anything"

Indeed. 

I realize I am certainly in the minority when it comes to my dislike of the myriad of colorful words thrown out and about around me.  And I'll be the first to admit that when I burn my hand or stub my toe the first words that come flying out of my mouth are not, "Oh golly gee willikers that sure did hurt!"  Chances are I will throw out the Queen Mother Mary of all swear words as a knee-jerk reaction to the pain.

I'm only human.  And humans like their words short, and sweet, and to the point.

Especially when in pain.

In fact some of the worst memories of myself behaving badly have centered around times that I threw in a cuss word at the worst opportune moment.

Like the time I took Sam with me on vacation with my sister and her family in Florida and upon missing my period figured I should take a pregnancy test.  Needless to say after years of infertility prior to having Sam  I never in a million years thought it would turn up positive.

Well, it did.

I was in total shock.

I walked next door to my sister's condo where she was feeding all of the kids lunch with her husband and mother-in-law and exclaimed, "You are not going to F&*%#@g believe this...I'm pregnant" and then held up the test to prove it.  To this day I am so mad at myself for using that kind of language at a moment that, while shocking, was nothing short of amazing and beautiful.  I went and tarnished it with an ugly word and the fact that I did so in front of 3 children makes me even more ashamed of myself.  Because the only thing that irks me more than cussing  is people who use those words in front of children.

If I am shopping at the grocery store, or catching a bite to eat at Chick-Fil-A or watching my kids run and play at the local playground and someone starts letting four letter words fly you can bet your bottom dollar I am going to say something.  I'll be respectful, but firm in explaining that I do not appreciate their use of that language in front of my children, let alone in front of me.  In fact I will show them the same respect they should have been showing me by not using that language at all in a public place.  If that person wants to talk that way in their own home so be it.  But, don't pollute my ears and those of my children with that trash.

I realize now that this post has turned into a bit of a rant.  Which was certainly not what I intended when I began writing it.  I know there are many people who disagree with me on this topic.  I respect their opinion and while I hope I won't lose any of my readers for sharing a bit about me and what makes me tick.  Or rather, ticks me off.  I will certainly show them kindly where the door is if they would rather leave.

Which I am happy to say is infinitely better than telling them where they can go.

If you don't see for for awhile I'll be in Vegas, playing Powerball, and buying 100 scratch-off tickets

For the first time in my life I seem to be on a winning streak.

Yesterday I attended a Twitter Party held during the Silicon Valley Mom's/ D.C. Metro Mom's Blogging event.   Most of my fellow blogging friends were actually at the event but I was attending from the comfort of my living room! 

I learned a number of things during this Twitter party.  

1. Apparently I have very good luck because I won 3 separate prize packages out of the 6 available.
2. If the prize is big enough and people are tweeting fast enough you will exceed your API limit and be met head on with the Twitter blue whale of death.
3. Read the fine print before you spend 2 hours trying to win something you are not eligible to win in the first place.

The first prize I won was a package of goodies from Dr. Susan Love's Army of Women.  Next I won some great lice-removal products from LiceHappens (which I am praying to God I never ever need) and third I won a full DNA analysis for ancestry and health purposes from 23andMe (That sucker alone is worth $499.00!).

However, I then began tweeting my life away in an attempt to win a sweet & sassy netbook called the Litl.  For every tweet you sent out with their @Litl twitter name and the venue hashtag of #svmomsbitmoms you were entered once into the kitty.  Well, Mama needs herself a laptop or a Litl or something else like I need a hole in my head like its nobody's business so I started tweeting my little heart out.  In all I sent out 54 tweets in less than 1 hour. 

But, I didn't win.

Cause it turns out the contest rules were that only bloggers in attendance at the actual blogging event were qualified to win. 

Oh SNAP!

And that my friends is the lesson for today.  No matter how lucky you may be you are only as lucky as the fine print you choose to read.

Lesson learned.

I need a vacation

The last "vacation" I had was a long weekend in Key Largo, Florida on my sister's boat, The Fat & Sassy, in November of 2005. We flew in on a Thursday evening and had to return to our homes on Sunday afternoon.

It was a weekend full of amazing seafood, the best mojitos I have ever had (made by my sister, of course!), a ton of laughs, and 2 of the most relaxing weekends of my life feeling the wind in my hair and the sunshine on my shoulders.

I remember drinking a tad too many mojitos and us girls had to recreate the "I'm the king of the world" scene from Titanic.


Good times.

Since that trip I have learned of my second son's diagnosis of autism, separated and divorced their dad, fell in love and married my amazing husband, Mike, and added 2 step-sons, and a very large dog to my life.

I have not, however, had a vacation.

Most the time I think I am running around keeping myself so busy that I don't really notice just how badly I need one.  But, when the warm summer winds begin blowing and the schools are about to let out for the summer I get this itch.

The get-me-the-hell-outta-here itch.

Great thing is, I'm really not all that picky.  I have daydreamed about far away lands with 5-star tiki huts over crystal clear water with glass floors so you can see the rays and fish swim by but in reality I know a vacation like that is nothing less than a pipe dream.

I'm a simple gal who would be more than happy with a road trip to a beach, a seafood shanty offering a fruity drink with an umbrella in it, and nothing but "island time" to plan our days.

And I do mean days.  plural.

I want need a good 5 to 7 day stretch of time in which I don't have to do any of the following:

• Wake up at 4:30 am to the sound of a small child kicking their bedroom door
• Cleanup the after effects of a 7 year old's adventure in fecal smearing
• Be vigilant that all drinks and food items are out of reach of a certain 5 year old who loves to dump, throw, and otherwise spit them all over the carpet and walls.
• Sooth a child in the midst of a meltdown while feeling the judgment and stares of others watching it all unfold.
• Diaper said children because potty training is sucking the marrow of my life right out of me.
• Etc.

And herein lies the rub.

My children cannot go on vacations.  This is rather common with families raising a child(ren) with autism.  For the individual with autism their day to day routine is iron clad.  They function best with a schedule that does not change, waver, or feature surprises of any sort.  This is especially true for individuals on the severe to profound end of the autism spectrum.  My boys are both firmly located right about there.

Recently we have had small successes with short trips to the Maryland Zoo and Port Discovery Children's Museum.  However, these trips are orchestrated very carefully with plenty of visual and verbal prompts to prepare the boys for the change to their routine.  On these 2 occasions we walked away pleased with our visits.  And absolutely exhausted to the core of our being.

I will be the first to say that I cannot keep up the pace without some end in sight, some glimmer of hope that I can get away for an extended period of time and nurture some of the other relationships I treasure.  Namely, I want to luxuriate in the early morning hours as the sun is peeking in the window and gaze at my husband in all our newly-wedded bliss and know that I don't have to jump out of bed to do anything at all.  I want to do everything and nothing at all as the day begins.

However, taking a vacation involves a whole lot more than just planning, booking, and paying for it (which trust me, is a whole other issue!).  Taking a vacation without the boys involves mountains of paperwork applying for respite care, interviewing potential respite care workers, figuring out how to pay for the large percent of the fee that the respite care grant does not cover, and then preparing both the boys for the change in their schedule that a stranger caring for them in my absence would create.  Its really rather exhausting just thinking about it.  Which is why I tend to not think about it and just keep plugging away at the day in and day out routine that is our lives.


I don't know if and when a real vacation is going to come our way.  All I know is that this Mama is long overdue for one.

My zoo takes on the Maryland Zoo and I didn't even lose a kid.

On Saturday my dad, Mike, and I took Sam and Noah to the Maryland Zoo in downtown Baltimore. It was an overcast day with promises of only reaching the low 70s so I assumed (famous last words here folks) that it would be a pleasant day to introduce my 2 zoo animals to the real zoo.

As you would imagine the temperature was already creeping towards 80 degrees by the time we parked the car and began our walk into the zoo.  I remembered to pack all the necessary day-trip items, including:  Diapers, wipes, a change of clothes for both the boys, filled sippy cups, snack, and even a sandwich for Sam who will not eat anything you buy in a store or a restaurant.  You would think somewhere in the backpack I would have remembered a rubber band, a scrunchee, or a darn piece of string in which to pull my long hair back. 

Um, no.

But I digress.

After our successful field trip to Baltimore's supremely awesome Port Discovery Children's Museum I was hopefully optimistic that our ratio of 3 adults to 2 children with autism would ensure our safely traversing the zoo without losing a kid in the process.  It was a rather risky hypothesis given the number of wild animals present but I felt sure that no lions, polar bears, or cheetahs would be harmed by my 2 children during our visit.

Its okay guys...don't cower in fear.  I will protect you from The Trouble Brothers and their evil schemes!

We started our trip on the train ride that takes you from the opening gates to the middle of the park.  I know from a previous trip to the zoo that we could have taken some lovely back trails to arrive at the same destination but somehow I did not think the boys would find it nearly as peaceful and lovely as I do.  

Shocker, I know.

First we visited the polar bears.  Neither were swimming which shocked me given the heat and humidity of the day.  If I was walking around wearing a fur coat you can bet you ass I would have been lounging in the water and making a beeline for the nearest swim-up tiki bar.

The boys enjoyed crawling inside the mock polar bear trap while I frantically sketched a crude design in order to later recreate it at home for those moments when Mommy needs her own "time out".

I

  I especially like how the roomy design allows for either 1 or 2 critters to be safely contained.

At this point Sam is announcing to everyone in our general vicinity that he wants to go see the "Sea Turtles!" and I was doing my best to ignore his requests knowing #1 There are NO sea turtles at the Maryland Zoo and #2 to engage in a conversation about such facts could very well result in a meltdown of epic proportions.  A very kind zoo employee heard Sam's pleas for the "Sea Turtle!" and attempted to tell him that they did not have any at the zoo but they have some lovely sea otters.

Total Sea Turtle FAIL. 

That is all I have to say about that.

Notice Noah's futile attempt at an escape during our amazing photo-op.

We decided the best thing to do at this point was to exit the Polar Bear area with its giant underwater view of absolutely nothing swimming whatsoever and head into the African Savannah portion of our visit. 

Noah really enjoyed watching the Tapir and kept mumbling something about Diego & Rescue Pack needing to get him on the train.  In fact, Noah was able to identify quite a few animals from the HOURS and HOURS few moments of watching the occasional Diego episode while Mommy hid in the closet and guzzled wine like it was water cooked dinner.

However, I believe that Noah's favorite part of the zoo was watching the giraffe.

He was attempting to scale the short fence at every possible moment and seemed very upset that he was not allowed to frolic and play with said giraffe.  Clearly the giraffe could have cared less either way.

Ha!  Look at me, I'm so tough I even carry an adult giraffe on my back!

I enjoyed watching the elephants for the sheer fact they were in the closest proximity to some very inviting park benches in which to rest my weary heat-stroked soul.

and I am glad we did because otherwise I never would have got this picture which is my absolute favorite of the lot.

Sam sat next to me and we talked about the elephants and what they like to eat, how they use their noses like a tool for bathing and eating and taking care of their young.  I was very thankful my dad was with us to take so many photos because as you know when I am the one taking them I am not the one in them and I treasure my photos of me with my boys.

I especially love this one.

Next we walked up a steep hill to the mecca of cold drinks, popsicles, and hot dogs.  Lord knows we earned them!  I sat with the boys while my dad and Mike bought us some refreshments.  I told them to get a popsicle for Noah who ever since our visit to the block party with the infamous Spongebob Squarepants Popsicle had been asking for one every time we left the house for the last 2 weeks.

I also requested something to drink.  Something REALLY REALLY big and cold and icy to drink.  ASAP.

He even brought me a popsicle!  What a good man!

Notice how Noah is eyeing up my frosty treat while eating his own!

I let him eat the hot dogs.  Lord knows that man loves his pig!

Next we bypassed the carnival part of the zoo because frankly we had already shelled out $62.00 just for the entrance tickets and we were not willing to spend more on a merry-go-round and some spinning contraption that made me want to hurl just to look at it. 

Instead we decided to enter the Children's Zoo with more familiar animals such as toads, turtles, frogs, and the like.

Now here is a little tidbit for those of you who want to beat the crowds and not be stuck in a line waiting for your kid's turn to climb into the Oriole nest or bounce on the lilypads....Go at lunch time!  This normally crowded portion of the zoo was almost completely empty because all of the families were at the food pavilions or the picnic areas!

My kids had the whole place practically to themselves!

They climbed into a nest:

Bounced on lily pads:

Yes, I was the mean parent that wouldn't allow my boys to walk across the lily pads without holding my hand because losing a kid is 1 thing...losing a kid in a pool of murky water is a whole other nightmare I am not now or ever ready to experience.

And Noah really wanted to!

Within seconds of this photo being taken Noah through the mother of all meltdown tantrums because I wouldn't let go of his hand.  That boy was eyeing up the bottom of that pond like it was lined with chocolate and rainbow sprinkles!

Then they rode on the back of a tarrapin:

and climbed into a giant tortoise shell:

No wait...that was the adults who decided to make fools of ourselves in the turtle shells!

But hey, like I said...we had the place to ourselves!

We met a lovely young couple that offered to take a group photo for us.  I remember the young woman had the most perfect baby bump and looked like she had just stepped out of one of those pregnancy magazines where the women are all 100 pounds soaking wet with what looks like a basketball under their tank top.

I hope she is in labor for 3 days.

But I'm not bitter.

By the time we finished the Children's Zoo we were ready to head home.  We had been walking, climbing, and watching animals for over 3 hours and I am proud to say that at no point did any of us lose one of my children.

 Say Bye-Bye to Leo boys...we're outta here!

And for me, THAT makes this field trip a success!