Wordless Wednesday: NY Comic Con!

Jake and some Power Rangers at NY Comic Con

This past weekend was NY Comic Con, an annual event for our family, as Dan is "in the biz" and I've been bringing the boys for the last few years.

The boys love hanging out at their Dad's booth

Ethan as Link, at the Javitz entrance

Ethan went costumed as Link from The Legend of Zelda (video game) again, a bit disappointed that only a handful of people asked to take his picture, versus a multitude last year.

Jake, as always, was thrilled to see and "meet" his favorite characters, especially the Japanimation kind. Thank goodness he is more of a sensory-seeking than sensory-overload kind of autistic kid, or he would have been undone by the throngs and noise.

Jake saying hello to the Captain

Fascinated by a Dragonball Z tableau

Holy Lego Batman, Robin!

This year was more crowded than ever, but we still managed to have a lot of fun while eating only a minimum of overpriced chazerai.

(Yes I collapsed when we got home Sunday night.)

ishes

A yellowish android

Today, I'm taking a break from reporting from my mother's bedside. Not that it's any different, any better there. I just can't keep talking about it day in and day out. My guts are too wrenched, they need a break.

So tonight, a little bit lighter fare; a few moments with the kids. Remember them? Yep, still got 'em.

Jacob tonight was showing me the pictures he'd drawn today, while he was home after school with Daddy. As is usual, he engaged me in conversation the best way he knows how: asking questions he already knows the answers to.

"Mom, what color is Vegeta's* hair?" I had to look to see if he had been drawn as a regular Sayan or a Super-Sayan this time. "Black honey, it's blackish."

"What is 'black-ish' Mom?"

Oy!

-ish is such an abstract concept, I think he's never going to get it, but I try...  "You add '-ish' to the end of a word to show how it is kind of, almost, but not quite all of something. You say 'whitish' about something that is not quite pure white, but on its way there, in the white family."  And left it at that.

And five minutes later...

Jake: "Mom, what color is Freeza's skin?"

I look over. "It's pink honey."

"Nooooo, it's pink-ISH, Mommy!"

And so it was.

(Never underestimate an autistic person's ability to learn.)

And then Ethan, on the loooooong way home from an East side doctor's appointment (Obama in New York = traffic from hell) decides to invent a word. Or rather, a new meaning for an old word, create some slang, as it were.

"Mom, let's make up a new meaning for the word 'Bagel' - OK?"

"OK." I say, game for any sort of game that does not involve a screen.

"How about... a special way you stab something with a sword?" He suggests.

"How about something non-violent?" I counter.

"It's a hug. A special, special hug where you wrap your arms around someone and give them a squeeze like you're the bagel and they're in the hole in the middle."

"THAT I like!"

"Give me a bagel, Mom!"

And I do.

I so do.


*If you have anything like a nine year old boy, you probably know who all these characters are. If not, you are without a clue. They're from the Japanese anime cartoon world of Dragonball Z - one of Jake's current obsessions.

I am linking this up with Just Write, because I just wrote it.

Daylight

One short week of school vacation - time off the clock - and the days have gotten noticeably longer at the fringes. When I took Jacob down to wait for his bus this morning, we were watching the early-walking dogs and their people stroll by in daylight, not darkness.

The yellow of the school bus rounding the corner popped against a truly blue sky. And my dour wintry spirits lifted, too, sniffing hopefully towards spring.

*

Tonight, walking home from picking up Ethan at Hebrew School, for the first time in forever it was not completely pitch black night at 6 pm.  Ethan and his friend, our next door neighbor whose mom I “foot-pool” with, were busy talking their 9 year-old-boy-talk of video games interspersed with mock battles that threatened to engulf the sidewalk-sharing passersby.

I just didn’t have the energy to scold, hoped no bodily harm was being done, walked three paces ahead with Jacob on my arm, ever chivalrous.

Jake and I had one of our typical conversations the whole way home, he repeating the same three or four questions over and over, never ceasing in his delight at the correct-to-his-mind answers I doggedly offer back. 

And while the topics often skew to the obvious, they also occasionally delight and surprise.

Jake was talking a lot about the earth and the sky tonight, impressed, as was I, by the moon playing peekaboo with us between the tall buildings. It was in between phases, not quite crescent yet shy of half full, and fuzzy about the edges, giving it a soft, somewhat unearthly glow, as if we'd slipped into a Maxfield Parrish painting. 

"Where is the planet, Mom, where is the earth?" Jake asked. And I assured him we were walking upon it, each and every time.

"When you were dead, before you were a baby, did you live in the sky, Mommy?"

OK, didn't expect THAT one.

A complex and somewhat... unusual cosmological concept going on here. A moment's reflection upon his current Japanimation obsession, though, solved the mystery of its origin. 

In the DragonBall-Z-Kai universe, people are always dying and being brought back to life, and hanging out on a platform in the sky while waiting for that to happen. 

Explaining the improbability of all that to my autistic son was quite beyond my ken tonight, so I just waived my hand in the air and proclaimed it to be a bunch of "made-up TV story nonsense" and not the stuff of real life.

He smiled indulgently, knowing how much more real his beloved Goku and Piccolo are than I will ever know, and, as we were on our block, no more streets to cross, ran the rest of the way home, West toward the fast-fading, last pink echo at the horizon.

I trudged behind, watching the evening's first stars emerge, casting their fuzzy glow about the sky; setting down, one in front of the other, my feet upon this planet, following my boy home.

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Wordless Wednesday: HALLOWEEN!

2011: Jake as Iron Man (again) and Ethan as Link (from legend of Zelda)

Was there ever any doubt what I was going to throw up on the old blog today? Really? So, without further ado, may I present this year's Halloween in pictures:

Ethan was Link from Legend of Zelda (classic Nintendo game)

He is NOT Peter Pan or Robin Hood. Link is an ELF (hence the ears).

Not the best picture, but the only one where you can really see the boots. The Boots!

Link, defending our apartment!

"Not one step further, evil villain!"

Would you finish taking pictures so I can trick or treat already?

While Ethan is all about the candy, Jake loves the lobby party & the decorations best

Jakey REALLY gets excited about Halloween

Iron Man hanging with some friendly ghosts

Jake loves the spooky elevators!

Jake chatting with the neighbors and his favorite ghost

Jake's favorite ghost

Iron man: beneath the mask = one handsome boy

And if you want to see last year's costumes and a round-up of all our family's previous costumes (including two kick-ass obscure Pokemon I created from scratch) check out this post from last year:

Halloween Now & Then

And? I am SO linking this up to Sellabit Mum and  Four Plus an Angel's BOO! In the Blogosphere Halloween Costume Link-Up:

Also, as usual, I’m linking up to Wordless / Wordful Wednesdays... at Angry Julie Monday... at 5 Minutes for Mom... at live and love...out loud... at Dagmar*s momsense... at Parenting by Dummies.


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Pictureful Wednesday: Boys and Swords

It's that time of year again, Halloween is almost here and costume drama is in the air. This year? Ethan MUST be Link, the legendary warrior from Legend of Zelda.

What the hell is that you ask? You must be old. Like me ;-) (He's a classic Nintendo game character.)

To get in the mood - and shop for weaponry and other medieval claptrap - we attended the Cloister's annual Medieval Festival. 

A castle? Awesome backdrop for swordplay with brothers and found friends. (And yes, in conversation with this family it came out that one of their boys in on the spectrum, too. We are everywhere.)

 

I have been assembling bits of this and that, here and there, for Ethan's Link costume since mid-September. And the almost-done costume got a preview run at NY ComiCon earlier this month, where Cosplay costumers are encouraged.

What the hell is Cosplay you ask?  You must be old. Like me. ;-) (It's fan based Costume Play - very big in Japanese Manga/Anime circles.)

Link arrives at ComiCon

Hanging out with Dad at his booth? Highlight of the show.

Jake? Wanted to spend the whole day talking with R2D2.

The WHOLE day.

Although the AMNH mini-planetarium show was pretty awesome, too.

And if there is a screen, Jake will watch.

No, there was not a single shot in which the boys were not making weird faces. At least I look human.

Ethan's costume was a big hit at the con, and yes, there were actually some folks who wanted to have their picture taken with "Link." And yes, some of them were GIRLS who pretended to swoon in his presence. Ethan had no idea what to do about that. Yet. (Whew!)

Ethan taking this "warrior" thing a tad seriously

When it was all over, walking back toward the center of the city from the western fringes of the Javits Center? We were a roving band of odd characters.  It was lots of fun watching the double takes from ordinary folks who had no idea ComiCon had been in town.

And below, you will find the referent Link character pic from the video game. Not bad so far, if I may say so myself. Yes, I have a shield to build this week.

Jake, on the other hand is content to be Iron Man again! (Yay!)

Except his last year's costume got completely trashed from playing in it all year, so I have to buy ANOTHER one. (Boo!)

And so it goes....

(And as to why I called this "Pictureful" instead of "Wordless" Wednesday? I'm guessing you've figured that out by now.)

As usual, I’m linking up to Wordless / Wordful Wednesdays... at Angry Julie Monday... at 5 Minutes for Mom... at live and love...out loud... at Dagmar*s momsense... at Parenting by Dummies.


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A little time with Ethan

Jake’s been taking center stage in the blog for a while now (what with the autism and all), and Ethan wants me to remind you folks that he exists, too.

So here are a few more snippets of life with Ethan. Enjoy him. (I do.)

Ethan, Summer 2011

The other night Ethan complained to me "My life is boring right now."

"What? Why?" I asked, slightly stunned, what with the fun camp and many friends and all.

"Well, there's nothing going on in my life. I kind of like Gogos, but not THAT much... There’s nothing I'm REALLY into right now”

Ahhhh, I see, life without an overriding obsession feels… different... lesser.

I suggested to him that maybe it was time to take up a real life hobby that could grow with him - like a musical instrument, instead of him outgrowing - like all his Japanimation toy obsessions: Power Rangers, Bakugan, Pokemon, Beyblades… and now Gogos Crazy Bones…

"No, Mom, I just need a new THING to be into."

Well, at least it's not girls. Yet.

(Also, just so you know, this conversation took place, of course, while he was on the toilet, just before bedtime. Once a bathroom conversationalist, always a bathroom conversationalist.)

 @@@@@@@

At bedtime the other night Ethan got the giggles -- this is, unfortunately, a not uncommon occurrence. He gets these funny ideas, and well, they make him laugh. Not the most conducive to sleep, now, is that? 

Ethan. My budding insomniac night owl child.  (Sigh.)

So, this time the “funny thought” ran along the lines of “wouldn’t it be soooo funny to have a boy and name him Muriel? Or Betsy, or Isabel.” Somehow naming of the inappropriate variety is a big theme for Ethan, and a frequent source of mirth.  (As all gender reversals are, too, come to think of it.)

He was going on and on, suggesting girlier and girlier names as possible candidates for “Worst. Boy. Name. Ever.” I was trying to put the kibosh on this, to shush him up, both to help him calm down enough to sleep and so as not to wake Jacob with his chortling.

But then I couldn’t help myself.

“Well, you know there’s that famous song about A Boy Named Sue…”

Ethan didn’t. He wanted to know all about it.

I told him a tiny bit about Johnny Cash and the song; just a tease, really, enough to intrigue him. And then I told him I would find it on You Tube for him the next day and play it for him ONLY if he quieted down and went to sleep right away.

It worked.

The next day, when he came home from camp, I had it all cued up, waiting for him, keeping my word. I played it; we got to the end.

And his reaction?

"That’s just WEIRD, mom."

And then the thousand questions, about the song... "Why did he leave his family... and why does he want his son to be a fighter... and why did he want to kill his Dad... and why would ANYBODY name a boy Sue and... ?"

And the singer... "Why is he the man in black... and why is he playing in a prison... and why is his voice so low and... ?"

And a part of me wanted to say "It's just a song, Ethan."

Except it isn't. It's a part of our heritage now, our mythic landscape.

And Johnny is one of the Great Beings who have walked among us (although of course he was also just a man; someone's son, father, husband, brother, grandfather).

And you know who wrote it, right?

@@@@@@@

Last night I attempted to explain the mechanics of humor to Ethan. All about how to tell a joke and what makes a joke funny or not. Not easy stuff to quantify.

It started with a discussion of swimming at camp, he talked about learning the backstroke, which led to my telling him that old chestnut of a joke from the classic lexicon:

"Waiter what’s this fly doing in my soup?"

“The backstroke, sir.”

(cue rimshot)

He then wanted to hear more waiter jokes – so I told him the “Who wanted the clean glass?” joke and then started in on other “classic” jokes, like the “... walks into a bar" formulation.

Silly me, after much pleading I finally told him my favorite walks-into-a-bar joke. Which, unfortunately involves a certain knowledge of existential philosophy. It begins "Descartes walks into a bar..."*

Have you ever tried explaining existentialism to a nearly 9 year old?  (Yeah, me neither.)

And then we ended up talking about how certain variations on the chicken-crossing-the-road are funny and some are not.  And why.

When I said “and then, when you deliver the punch line, you have to drop it in just right”? He thought that was hysterical.

He had never heard the term and got very distracted and entertained by the idea of ACTUALLY punching someone while telling a joke.

Sigh.

I guess he is still a not-yet-quite-nine year-old boy after all.

@@@@@@@

And those are all the tales of Ethan I have to tell... today.

You know there will be more soon.

Because Ethan keeps being Ethan.

And that?

Is entertainment.


*Oh, you want to hear the Descartes joke? Really? OK. It's short, sweet, a little absurd, definitely goofy (and I love it):

Descartes walks into a bar.

Pulls up a stool, sits down.

He starts chatting with the other folks at the bar.

The bartender is getting impatient, asks him: "So, buddy, are you going to order a drink?"

Descartes answers: "I think not."

And promptly disappears.

(cue rimshot)


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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...

Half-Birthday

Today is my boys' half-birthday. Remember celebrating half-birthdays?  It seems to work only when you're still in the single digits, like my guys.

Eight and a half, today.  How did that happen?  One more birthday on this side of the fence, and then after that they're into the double digits.  Big boys.  Blink, blink. 

They were summer babies, and to think of their birthday is to think of late July's deep heat.

Jacob & Ethan, 1 day old

Not a bad thought today, as the mercury hovers just around the freezing point and we may be expecting a bit more snow later this afternoon.

Our car, street parked in New York City?  Is not currently a vehicle, but rather a vaguely car-shaped snowbank.  Plow-piled snow encases our car up to the windows plus the 19 fresh inches sit atop the roof like so much white fluffy frosting.

Frosting... that gets me to thinking... of cakes in general, and then birthday cakes in particular.  Which draws us right back round again to the matter at hand: boys and half-birthdays, half-birthdays and boys.

So maybe I should take my cue from the above, combat a case of the mid-winter blues, cheer myself up, inspired by all this birthday and cake talk, and herewith take you on a photographic tour down birthday memory lane via my ONE claim to domestic awesomeness: my amazing mommy-made birthday cakes:

In the beginning were cupcakes for birthdays one and two. Easy to make, no big knives need be left laying around curious toddlers with swift, fat, grabby fingers.  And?  They didn't know any better, what was important was the eating of them.

But then they turned three, and had seen birthday cakes in books and on TV.   Beautiful, decorated cakes.  And Ethan pounced, begged, made specific demands requests.

So it all began in 2005, when the boys were Thomas the Tank Engine obsessed 3 year-olds.  Ethan had asked for a James cake, as his then love of the color red extended to all things, including trains.  And I knew that for Jacob, who still yet did not always make his desires known, Thomas, the main character was the right choice.

Since I was making two cakes, and not everyone loves chocolate (although that makes no sense to Ethan who believes non-chocolate deserts have no reason to live), I made one cake, Ethan's, chocolate and the other, Jacob's, vanilla.

I pulled out the boys Thomas placements, and painstakingly copied the illustrations onto the cakes:

2005: My FIRST cake - Thomas for Jacob

As Ethan's chocolate frosting was so dark, problem solving how to write a legible "Happy Birthday" in the requested blue gel inspired the bug puffy steam cloud coming out of the smokestack, possibly my favorite part.

2005: James the red engine for Ethan

I wasn't sure I could pull it off, had never attempted anything quite like this before.  I dove in, in pure experimental mode, and... I succeeded, damn it!  The problem here being: once you do this well, once?  It becomes expected every year.  And I'm supposed to improve, too, to top myself, as it were.

OK, 2006: Once again, one chocolate, one not.  Lemon-vanilla, this time.  Also?  This was the first year Jacob was on his special Gluten Free/Casein Free diet.  So I had to find a really good vanilla GF/CF cake mix and make a practice cake before I inflicted it upon the masses.

I was, once again, taking design requests.  And this year I figured out that printing out simple line-drawing coloring pages found online was the best way to create a "pattern" for my decorating. 

So, four year-old Jacob was in love with Pingu the penguin:

2006: Pingu for Jake

While Ethan at four showed considerable loyalty to his father as his nascent superhero obsession erupted.  He chose Spider-man:

2006: Spidey for Ethan

Spider-main turned out a little lumpier than he was supposed to be, but within tolerable limits, I think.

And in 2007?  Cars, baby!  Jake was in love, I mean IN LOVE with Mac, the big Mac truck who is Lightning's best friend:

2007: Mac for Jake

Ethan wanted 5 cars  on his, which I nixed, but did acquiesce (after much begging) to a 2 car road scene tableau, from above, with a Route 66 logo.  I'm a sucker, what can I say:

2007 for Ethan: Route 66

I can admit, this was not my best effort.  It was late, I was getting tired.  In an ideal world, I would have filled in more green at the side of the road instead of just that lame lone squiggle.  Oh, well, it was devoured and enjoyed, just the same.

In 2008 I discovered the existence of Wilton shaped cake pans.  Who knew?  Learning about these was a revelation.  There was still a fuck-ton of work involved, but at least I didn't have to research the design.  Just E-bay the pans.  (You didn't think my kids wanted any of the current, easy to obtain designs, did you?  My kids?)

Once again the current superhero obsessions ruled: Batman for Jake and Power Ranger for Ethan. Jake's Batman cake was orange vanilla flavored and really delicious, no one would ever guess it was GF/CF unless they knew:

2008: Jake loved Batman

2008: Ethan was all about the Power Rangers

Ethan had directed me in the color choice for the Power Ranger's costume.  I bit my lip and restrained myself from sharing with him that making the Ranger sleeve's trim into a pink and green argyle made me refer to this one as "Buffy the Connecticut Wasp Power Ranger" in my mind. 

In 2009, I had some serious fun.  Ethan had switched allegiances from the Bakugan to the Pokemon Japanimation tribe just before his birthday, and decided to "make it easy for you, Mom" by requesting a simple Pokeball design, as opposed to an elaborate character re-creation.

May I present the Pokeball cake: simple, elegant, nearly modernistic:

2009: Ethan gets a Pokeball

Jake, on the other hand, got his most elaborate cake to date in 2009.   

That summer he was a bit obsessed with the very hungry caterpillar character from the self named Eric Carle storybook.  His class had performed a stirring reading of this story at their graduation & moving up ceremony in June.

One day in June I had ducked into a Williams Sonoma store when a torrential rain suddenly came down upon me while waiting for the crosstown bus.  What was in the sale bin, but a shaped caterpillar cakelet pan, and the inspiration struck:

2009: A Very Hungry Caterpillar for Jacob

2009: Close up of the head cakelet

I had so much fun making this.  My little addition: I doubled the body pieces to make him really long.  Also?  I am very fond of my embellishments: the green colored sugar crusted over green frosting to make the eyes sparkle and then the grape twizzler antennae. (The mold was for a generic caterpillar with a different face. I turned him into Eric Carle's specific caterpillar.)

Which brings us up to the present. This past year, 2010, was the boys' year of Pokemon. A shaped cake pan Pikachu (thank you Wilton) for Jacob, whose favorite color progressed to yellow this summer:

2010: Pikachu for Jake

And for Ethan?  I think I outdid myself this past year.  He initially wanted some particularly complex and difficult to draw Pokemon, but we finally settled on this guy, Lapras, who seemed actually do-able.  I think I did a pretty damn good job re-creating him, using, once again, a computer coloring page pattern:

2010: Lapras for Ethan

OK, here's the Lapras, image I used, you be the judge:

Whew!

And now, in hindsight (because when have I ever NOT over-thought things), I realize that while I had thought I was doing this particular post to bring a little summer cheer into the winter gray, I also see, as this rolls along, that I had ulterior motives (when do I ever not, isn't there always a secondary agenda floating along under the overt... or is that just me?)*

I think I needed to remind myself, to prove to you all, that there's some things in life at which I do not, actually, completely suck.  Because lately?  I've been feeling pretty sucktastic, especially when it comes to the state of my messy home and all things domestic.  Sigh.

And maybe it's just the inevitable post-operative depression talking (I had been warned it might set in at about 3 weeks when the physical was mostly healed but I was not yet back to 100%).   But anyway, here it is: my house may be an absolute disaster, but there is something domestic at which I am fairly glorious.  So take that!

Also, before you go suggesting I do something like this for a living?  No, no and no.  These take me FOREVER.  I love doing this for my kids, they are a labor of love, and shall remain that way.  Once a year.  My kids only.  Probably my grand-kids (way) down the road.

And now I'm off to make a special half-birthday lunch for my dear boys.  Tomorrow they will be closer to nine, one day closer to being claimed fully by the world.  Today they are still eight and a half, still mine.

*another example of how I have legitimately earned my crown as "Queen of the Run-on Sentence  (with parenthetical clauses).


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