It's official.
I've run out of things to blather on about today.
But I'm doing NaBloPoMo, committed to posting every day this month, so blather I must.
I *AM* going to finish this thing, and I am so nearly there. Four more days to go.
Actually that's not true at all, the running out of ideas thing. I have a million ideas, but what I have run out of, of course, is time. I have a dozen half-written posts, some of which I am truly excited about and am looking forward to finishing, but just don't have the time to do them justice right now.
Time, time, time. What I need, and have so very precious little of... time.
Between the boys' upcoming birthday (tomorrow! nearly there for that, too), the upcoming trip to BlogHer with all the childcare planning and other attendant preparation that goes into that -- vitamin pours for Jake, playdates set up for Ethan, emergency contact lists to write, new babysitters to train, and oh, yeah, packing *my* stuff for the trip -- I am swamped.
I have really enjoyed writing every day, feel it's kicked my writing mojo up a notch into high gear, even. In fact, what I seem to want to do, most all the time right now, is to write. (And yes, I have a post about *that* half-written, sitting in the hopper.)
But also? I am looking forward to being able to take a break, a day off if I feel like it, or if my kids' birthday is the next day and there are cakes to make, presents to wrap, "To-Do" lists to write, check, curse at.
So why are there not enough hours in the day? Well, I am possibly not the most efficient person on the planet. Something's got to give, and lately it's been sleep. And that is never, not EVER, a good thing.
But I can't help myself. I have blog posts to write... birthdays to plan... blog conferences to pack for... friends to tweet with... playdates to schedule... a husband to (occasionally) talk to... blog posts to read and comment on... social stories to write for Jacob... an elderly mother to visit with, shepherd to doctor appointments... vitamins, supplements and medicines to inventory, buy and pour for Jacob... an elderly Aunt's care to oversee... breakfasts and dinners to serve, lunches to pack... autism research to keep up on... zombies to kill... bathroom conversations to have with Ethan...
And getting enough sleep, taking care of myself? Too often just falls to the bottom of the list. Forgotten.
Next month I am going to think about, write, focus on that: taking care of me, figuring out how to put my own oxygen mask on first (as the eloquent Stark. Raving. Mad. Mommy puts it).
But tonight I am going to wrap up this post, finish icing the GF/CF cupcakes for Jacob's in-class birthday celebration tomorrow, go over the next week's crazy calendar with my husband, and sink into bed exhausted, to catch what few hours of sleep I can before the alarm goes off at 5:45 and I get up and do it all over again.
G'night all.
Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.
Showing posts with label Jake takes a LOT of supplements. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jake takes a LOT of supplements. Show all posts
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Jakey Vitamins
The thing is, if every life is full of ups and downs, life with special needs children is just... more so.
In every way.
There are so many aspects to it that drag me down, made me cry, bring me to my knees. So it's important to look for, focus on, and magnify the moments of light and buoyancy; the little things that lift me up, keep me afloat, allow me to just get on with it. Because I would rather laugh than cry, any day.
This morning I had one of those lightening moments. Not a big laugh-out-loud funny, more on the order of a tiny rise of the corners of my mouth and heart. But all those tiny bubbles? Aren't they what make champagne so delightful?
As I wasrushing encouraging Jake through his usual get-ready-for-school routine this morning, I was reminded that my eight year-old son, my Jacob? He has a mob name.
He's Jakey Vitamins, and don't mess with him.
This came about because of the unique configuration of our small apartment: we don't have a dining room and we don't have an eat-in kitchen. The dining table is in a corner of our living room, the corner farthest away from the kitchen, which is typical NYC: a long, narrow galley.
Jacob is a "mid-high functioning" kid on the autism spectrum. What that translates into is that he is capable of being independent in his morning routine. Sort of.
Meaning: with LOTS of coaching and reminders he can do most things for himself. With LOTS of coaching, reminders and nudging to stay focused, that is. And a quick mom-check that his underwear is not on backwards. Again.
Also, in the mornings, time is of the essence. Jake gets up at 6:00, his bus comes at 6:45. No lollygagging allowed. With the kitchen and the dining table so distant, and with Jake & Ethan's lunches to be packed and Ethan's breakfast to be made while Jake is eating his breakfast, the coaching inevitably needs to happen somewhat long distance.
Translation: Me, yelling from the kitchen towards the living room: "Jakey, Pants!" "Jake - TWO shoes!" "Jacob! EAT!" This short form is based on the theory that reminders should be kept simple: name plus one word - verb or noun - that best jogs the memory and focuses the brain.
One particular morning my husband was actually up early and at the computer in the alcove off the kitchen (aka his office) while this was going on. After about my third bellow of "Jakey! Vitamins!" he chimed in: "You know honey, I think that's his mob name."
Me (distracted by toaster oven and microwave timers going off simultaneously): "What?!?!?"
Husband: "When you said just now, I thought -- Hey that sounds like a typical mob nickname, like 'Tony Bagels' or 'Vinny Carwash.' 'Jakey Vitamins' -- it's got as nice ring to it, don't you think?"
And thus Jakey Vitamins, my son's mobbed-up alter ego was born.
And so now when I call that out to him - "Jakey! Vitamins!" - (many, many, many times each morning) I play this back in my mind and makes me smile; helps me to not be so annoyed.
Jakey Vitamins. Don't mess with him. Or he and his gang -- Blue Bear, Curious George and SpongeBob SquarePants -- will have to come show you who's boss (of the big hugs).
Also, if you have another 3 minutes? (And even if you don't, you should *make* 3 minutes free for this.) Click on over to Stark Raving, Mad, Mommy, and read today's post: Top Ten Things You Should (and Shouldn't) Say to The Parent of an Autistic Child.
She hits the nail on the head in that perfect combination of laughter and "Ouch!"
Also? I'm now linking up this post to Maxabella's
Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.
In every way.
There are so many aspects to it that drag me down, made me cry, bring me to my knees. So it's important to look for, focus on, and magnify the moments of light and buoyancy; the little things that lift me up, keep me afloat, allow me to just get on with it. Because I would rather laugh than cry, any day.
This morning I had one of those lightening moments. Not a big laugh-out-loud funny, more on the order of a tiny rise of the corners of my mouth and heart. But all those tiny bubbles? Aren't they what make champagne so delightful?
As I was
He's Jakey Vitamins, and don't mess with him.
This came about because of the unique configuration of our small apartment: we don't have a dining room and we don't have an eat-in kitchen. The dining table is in a corner of our living room, the corner farthest away from the kitchen, which is typical NYC: a long, narrow galley.
Jacob is a "mid-high functioning" kid on the autism spectrum. What that translates into is that he is capable of being independent in his morning routine. Sort of.
Meaning: with LOTS of coaching and reminders he can do most things for himself. With LOTS of coaching, reminders and nudging to stay focused, that is. And a quick mom-check that his underwear is not on backwards. Again.
Also, in the mornings, time is of the essence. Jake gets up at 6:00, his bus comes at 6:45. No lollygagging allowed. With the kitchen and the dining table so distant, and with Jake & Ethan's lunches to be packed and Ethan's breakfast to be made while Jake is eating his breakfast, the coaching inevitably needs to happen somewhat long distance.
Translation: Me, yelling from the kitchen towards the living room: "Jakey, Pants!" "Jake - TWO shoes!" "Jacob! EAT!" This short form is based on the theory that reminders should be kept simple: name plus one word - verb or noun - that best jogs the memory and focuses the brain.
One particular morning my husband was actually up early and at the computer in the alcove off the kitchen (aka his office) while this was going on. After about my third bellow of "Jakey! Vitamins!" he chimed in: "You know honey, I think that's his mob name."
Me (distracted by toaster oven and microwave timers going off simultaneously): "What?!?!?"
Husband: "When you said just now, I thought -- Hey that sounds like a typical mob nickname, like 'Tony Bagels' or 'Vinny Carwash.' 'Jakey Vitamins' -- it's got as nice ring to it, don't you think?"
And thus Jakey Vitamins, my son's mobbed-up alter ego was born.
And so now when I call that out to him - "Jakey! Vitamins!" - (many, many, many times each morning) I play this back in my mind and makes me smile; helps me to not be so annoyed.
Jakey Vitamins. Don't mess with him. Or he and his gang -- Blue Bear, Curious George and SpongeBob SquarePants -- will have to come show you who's boss (of the big hugs).
@@@@@@@
Also, if you have another 3 minutes? (And even if you don't, you should *make* 3 minutes free for this.) Click on over to Stark Raving, Mad, Mommy, and read today's post: Top Ten Things You Should (and Shouldn't) Say to The Parent of an Autistic Child.
She hits the nail on the head in that perfect combination of laughter and "Ouch!"
Also? I'm now linking up this post to Maxabella's
Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Mom is not allowed to be sick
Sorry, to be whining again. It's just a cold, a basic stupid rotten head cold. I feel like crap, but can scrape myself off the floor to function when I have to; the children are fed and looked after.
But I've got laryngitis, barely any voice, and what there is is so raspy that no one can hear me on cell phones. How much I call out to the boys from one room to another? I have no idea until I can no longer do it.
I need to traipse into the living/dining room from the kitchen to communicate anything and everything, including such bits of wisdom as: "take your feet off your brother" during dinner. (Because, being in NYC, we cannot actually eat in our narrow cooking-only kitchen, and so the 10,000 times I need to get up during dinner to get something or other? Means walking a long room away and back.)
And now, Ethan? Came into the living room this afternoon telling me he felt oh, so cold when the room was rather warm. Hand to forehead brought suspicions, thermometer checked, and yes indeed: 101.6. Damn.
And wouldn't you know it? This afternoon was to have brought to fruition a plan months in the making: a play-date with a classmate, long discussed, finally scheduled. Oh, well.
And I'm actually hoping Ethan has my head cold, and not the horrible stomach virus that is going around these parts.
Evidence is pointing towards the positive: Motrin taken, he's dropped down into the 90's and not shot back up yet; he still has somewhat of an appetite, downing a mere five instead of his usual ten chicken nuggets for dinner.
Jacob may or may not succumb. The ridiculous amount of vitamins and supplements he takes appears to have been successful in giving him an iron clad immune system. Nine-tenths of the time, when the rest of us are wheezing and sneezing? Jacob sails through with nary a sniffle.
Which is all for the best, as Jacob ill is not a pleasant sight to behold. He is the picture of misery, not understanding why he feels the way he feels, and cranky and much frustrated to boot.
But healthy when we are ill? Jacob is annoyingly cheerful; chatting away, asking to have his turn with the thermometer, asking for medicine when Ethan gets his, clearly not wanting to be left out of anything.
OK, the children have been fed dinner, and are now happily being mesmerized by evil but oh, so addictive Japanimation on the television. I am going to climb under the covers for an hour or until the fighting starts, whichever comes sooner.
Tomorrow it will be one year since I started this blog, my "blogaversary" as it were, and I hope to have a more philosophical post up then. Until then? To quote my friend Stimey: urgle, burgle, blech...
But I've got laryngitis, barely any voice, and what there is is so raspy that no one can hear me on cell phones. How much I call out to the boys from one room to another? I have no idea until I can no longer do it.
I need to traipse into the living/dining room from the kitchen to communicate anything and everything, including such bits of wisdom as: "take your feet off your brother" during dinner. (Because, being in NYC, we cannot actually eat in our narrow cooking-only kitchen, and so the 10,000 times I need to get up during dinner to get something or other? Means walking a long room away and back.)
And now, Ethan? Came into the living room this afternoon telling me he felt oh, so cold when the room was rather warm. Hand to forehead brought suspicions, thermometer checked, and yes indeed: 101.6. Damn.
And wouldn't you know it? This afternoon was to have brought to fruition a plan months in the making: a play-date with a classmate, long discussed, finally scheduled. Oh, well.
And I'm actually hoping Ethan has my head cold, and not the horrible stomach virus that is going around these parts.
Evidence is pointing towards the positive: Motrin taken, he's dropped down into the 90's and not shot back up yet; he still has somewhat of an appetite, downing a mere five instead of his usual ten chicken nuggets for dinner.
Jacob may or may not succumb. The ridiculous amount of vitamins and supplements he takes appears to have been successful in giving him an iron clad immune system. Nine-tenths of the time, when the rest of us are wheezing and sneezing? Jacob sails through with nary a sniffle.
Which is all for the best, as Jacob ill is not a pleasant sight to behold. He is the picture of misery, not understanding why he feels the way he feels, and cranky and much frustrated to boot.
But healthy when we are ill? Jacob is annoyingly cheerful; chatting away, asking to have his turn with the thermometer, asking for medicine when Ethan gets his, clearly not wanting to be left out of anything.
OK, the children have been fed dinner, and are now happily being mesmerized by evil but oh, so addictive Japanimation on the television. I am going to climb under the covers for an hour or until the fighting starts, whichever comes sooner.
Tomorrow it will be one year since I started this blog, my "blogaversary" as it were, and I hope to have a more philosophical post up then. Until then? To quote my friend Stimey: urgle, burgle, blech...
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wordless Wednesday: Baggage, Part 2
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| The infamous "Gray Bag" that goes where Jake goes |
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| Jacob's dinnertime vitamin, supplement & medicine pack |
The amount of stuff we haul everywhere is not always huge, but it is constant and seemingly never ending.
Since I didn't throw any photos into that post, I thought I would use this Wordless Wednesday to illustrate a small bit of the physical side of my workload as Jake's mom. This is my gray "Jakey bag" and this is one of the six vitamin/supplement/medication packs (albeit the largest) that Jacob takes, without complaint, each and every day.
I don't resent it (most days) but every now and then it is nice to set down the baggage and take a break.
I’m linking up to Wordless Wednesday at Angry Julie Monday.
Looking for Comments? I still haven't fixed my "Intense Debate disappearing comment link on home page problem" yet, so if you are viewing this on my home page and want to read my comments or make one of your own, click on the post's title to bring you to the post's page view. Voila! Still don't see them? Is your browser's pop-up filter set too high? (Hopefully this will get fixed soon - sorry!)
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