Show me the Love

OK, I am usually pretty Zen here at The Squashed Bologna.

Read me, don't read me, pffffft.  (Are you hearing the ancient wise turtle's voice from Kung Fu Panda here?  Good, we're in synch.)

But I'm going to break form today.

Today I am shamelessly shilling for some bloggy-love.  Begging for your vote.  Asking to be nominated.  Self-promoting away.

There are 3 places I need you to show me some love.  Two take just a little clicking, the third involves some typing, or copy-and-pasting (I'll try to make it as painless as possible for you).

But also?  If you're not into all this, just not a direction follower, wouldn't click or submit even if it earned you a million dollars (no, this won't)? 

That's OK.  That funny little story at the end of this post to reward everyone for getting through all this drivel?  It's there for you, too.

Vote for me, don't vote for me, pffffft.  I still love you.

First, see that little button on my right hand column near the top?  The one flashing (cringe) "Top Mommy Blogs.com" alternating with "The Most -Popular- Mom Blogs on the Web!"  Yeah that one.

Having trouble finding it?  OK, I'll paste it in here, too:

Now, click on it.  Even better, RIGHT click on it (or "control" + click if you're Mac like me) and open it in a separate tab or window so you can still keep reading me here too, at the same time.

Once you're there, find my little niche "Special Needs" in the far right hand column "Categories" list and click on THAT.

Now find me on the Special Needs blog list (back on the left) & click on my blog title.  (I know, I know, I need a button.  Want to make me one?)  That will bring you back home to me, here.

That wasn't too hard, right?

The cool part?  You can vote for me there every day, once a day.  So if you feel like doing it again tomorrow?  Terrific.

If not?  Pfffft, whatever.  I still love you.  Zen.

Next?  I'm taking you over to Babble.  A very cool, very BIG Mom Blogger site.  My new friend Ceridwen writes for them, and she's awesome.

They've already made their "2010 Top 50 Mom Blogs" list, and no, I ain't on there (get real, people). BUT, they are also asking for nominations and votes for the rest of us: the little guys, the also-rans.

And that's where your part comes in.  I have been nominated.  Now, all you have to do is find me there and click on a "like" button.  That's it.  Easy peasey.  Let's go...

Click HERE to go to Babble's nomination page:

Now let's find me, The Squashed Bologna.  First click on the alphabetical tab, then go to the "T"s.  As of this morning I was number 516 alphabetically, on page 11, but that could change.  (Annoying: you first have to click on page 9 to get to the higher numbers, I trust you can figure this one out.)

Now (here's the easy part): click on the thumbs-up "I like this blogger" button.  (You do like me, right?)

DONE!

OK, now, here's the last part (or you can just skip to the funny story at the end if you're exhausted by now, really I won't take offense):

The 2011 Bloggies

There's this thing, the Eleventh Annual Weblog Awards, known around the inter-webs as "The Bloggies."  They're kind of a big deal in the blogging community.  I have less than a snowball's chance in hell of winning one, but it would be nice to be nominated.

So I would love for you to nominate me.  You have until January 16th to do this.

The cool part?  You only have to do this once.  Promise.  (If you do it twice, it cancels your first one.)

Here's how this one works:  You go to the nomination website, here.

First:  READ THE RULES

As they say, you can nominate a blog in any and all categories for which it is appropriate (multiple categories OK).

So for me, may I suggest (in order of appearance on the form):

Best Parenting Weblog
Best Writing of a Weblog
Best-Kept Secret Weblog
Best New Weblog
Weblog of the Year

but definitely NOT

Best Food Weblog

(not that kind of Bologna, remember?)

You fill in the nominee's blog name and blog URL. These are the correct ones for me (you can copy and paste them):

Nominee: The Squashed Bologna   URL: http://www.squashedmom.com

And this is how it looks on the ballot:

Now, here's the catch, and this part is VERY important:

According to the rules, you cannot just nominate me, you MUST nominate at least three (3) blogs altogether, and they can be in any categories on the ballot.  So besides The Squashed Bologna?  You must pick at least two other blogs to nominate.

If you're a blogger or blog reader, this will be a cake-walk. I'm sure you're already planning on how to fill up the ballot.

But if you're not?  If mine is the only blog you read?  May I suggest three wonderful other blogs that fall into the "Best Group or Community Weblog" category.  I am a member of all of these, and they are quite worthy of praise and support.  Here's their info:

Nominee: Hopeful Parents  URL: http://www.hopefulparents.org
Nominee: Band Back Together  URL: http://www.bandbacktogether.com
Nominee: The Red Dress Club URL: http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com

And how the ballot looks filled in:  

Finally, you need to fill in your e-mail address at the very bottom, here, and then "Submit":

And then, when the Bloggies send you a validation e-mail?  For goodness sakes, please click the link inside it to make it so!

You are now done.  Thank you!

I know that was a bit of work, and I really appreciate all those of you who have gone the distance with me, here.  I'm certainly not the biggest or most popular blog out there, but I know I have some loyal readers, and it just feels good to get that jolt of validation now and then; gives me the juice to keep on writing.

Maybe this will help me to get a little more noticed.  Because if I can get a bigger readership?  Find a way to make some money from my writing?  My whole family will benefit greatly.  If I have to go out into the world to get a "real" job that requires me to be absent from home for large blocks of time, I know my kids in general and Jake in particular will pay a price.

OK, I promised you a cute story if you stuck with me through to the bitter end, and here it is:

The other day, Jacob's wonderful ABA therapist, Becca, had a late session with him that was overlapping his dinner time.  Jake was hungry, had finished all his homework, and so Becca sat with him while he ate.  They were practicing the fine art of dinner-table conversation.

These days, Jacob tends to go on and on about movies he has seen advertisements and trailers for, reciting their names and talking about their future opening dates.  And, Jake being Jake, his conversational forays tend to take the form of questions: "Can we go see Rio? Opening on April 15th, Mommy?" (He's got our weekend entertainment planned out through early summer.)

But wise Becca has found a way to steer the conversation away from movies, and they are actually discussing... his actual dinner.  And I get to overhear this gem:

Jake is holding a piece of (GF/CF organic chicken-apple) sausage aloft on his fork, studying it.

Becca:  "What is that, Jacob?"

Jake:  "Mr. Sausage."

Becca:  "What does Mr. Sausage say?"

Jake (glint in his eye, doing a funny little voice):  "Don't eat me!"

Followed by... CHOMP!  And laughter.  My son, the merciless sausage devourer.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

Anyone who thinks people on the spectrum have no sense of humor can go suck an egg.  They have clearly never met my son, Jacob, who IS da bomb.


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Over (Ouch!) at Hopeful Parents Today (Ouch!)

Day 5 of post-gall-bladder-surgery recovery, and I’ve taken myself off the pain meds.  Decidedly ouchier than yesterday, but not dreadful, I'm hoping I can make it through the day, because I'm tired of living in outer space.  And I *might* have dropped a few too many drooly “I looove youuuu” comments around the internet in the last few days, too.  Yeah, quite ready to be done with all that.

I managed to get my Hopeful Parents post done (it helps that I had started it and made substantial headway before the surgery).  So come over there to read me today.  (You can click on the graphic link below):

Or click this title to read my HP post:  Things that go "Bump" in my life

If you don’t know about or have not followed me over to Hopeful Parents in the past, please do so today.  And don’t just read my post, click around, stay awhile, read deep.

Hopeful Parents is a wonderful group blog site that I am honored and proud to have been asked to write a regular post for.  There are 62 regular writers, two each assigned to every day of the month. (I guess the pair of bloggers with the 31st have only half the obligation the rest of us do, now why didn’t *I* think of asking for that day?)

There is also a community blog space that is open to all members of the special needs community to write and post in.

What is so special about this site?  I find the people and the writing there to be extraordinary.  The writers are a collection of the most thoughtful, kind, supportive folks in the universe.  And boy, can they write.

Hopeful Parents never gets itself involved in the in-fights and controversies, the schisms that unfortunately plague nearly every community, even this, the special needs parenting community.  They are simply a place for support, a place for us all to speak out loud our thoughts and feelings about how it is to parent (or grandparent) a special needs child (or children). 

Our children’s issues are many and varied.  Our issues are many and varied (because the apple does not always fall so far from the tree).  Some of us have lost children and are grieving, others have children with new diagnoses and are searching, struggling to understand. 

Please come to read and then when a writer has touched you, follow them back to their home blog and get to know them better, learn more of the fullness of their lives.

And, hopefully, I’ll see you back here tomorrow or the next day, with more from me (if I can clear my brain and get over the ouch).


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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Loopy Grateful Thoughts

OK, I'm ready for my first real post-surgery post! (Surely you figured out that my last post was pre-written before the surgery & then scheduled to go up on Friday.  No?  Did it sound all loopy like something written by someone on painkillers?  Really?  Didn't think so.)

And what could be more perfect for this than Fadra's weekly "Stream of Consciousness Sunday" meme: where I'm supposed to just free write and whatever pours out of my brain is OK?

The rules are such:

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spell-checking. This is writing in the raw.

OK, so, here goes....

*********

Today is day four after my surgery and I am feeling grateful for all the small things that are allowing me to truly rest and heal today.  this weekend everything came together just perfectly to allow Ethan to have a million playdates, be the social creature that he is. He had a sleepover Friday night, and the mom even picked him up from afterschool, so I didn't see him from the moment I kissed him goodbye Friday morning as Danny swept him out the door to go to school until he was dropped off back at home at 11:30 yesterday.  Then he had an afternoon playdate with the neighbor kid across the street, and after that an evening with the upstairs neighbors, who even took him out to dinner with them and didn;t send him home until 8:30 PM, PERFECTLY timed for 10 minutes after Jake had gone to bed.

Because right now? the fighting is the worst part, when the kids get most physically out of controll and therefore dangerous to me.  but also I'm actually missing the guy. feeling like I;m catching glimpses of the future when he's a teen and barely home.  Makes me appreciate him even more when  he's around, because Ethan?  He's a really great kid and I do so enjoy his company, when he's not in obnoxious-ville, that is.

Jake has been having a hard time not climbing in my lap, but all things considered is doing a great job of being gentle with me, being a real trooper.  It's hard because he chose tihs week to want to watch less TV and play with me more.  His playmobil people are involved in all sorts of adventures and now he wants them all to have names.  Jake: "What's his name, Mom?" "That guy is Steve" (not terribly exciting, but first name to pop into my head, what can I say).  "Oh, Steve come over here right now and help change this tire!"

It is awesome that his imaginative play is really taking off right now, but the timing, really?  Couldn't have waited 2-3 weeks? No?  But really I am am very, very grateful.  Just wish it was easier for me to sit on the floor with him and play.

And then there's my sweet kitty who is so happy that I am acting properly for the first time in 8 years, and spending most of my time laying around being a good cat pillow.  It has been very comforting having her leaning up against me gently while I sleep and sleep. except for the moment she tried to step up on me, placing her paw EXACTLY in the spot where up until Wednesday my Gall Bladder had resided.  Can I say OUCH?  I believe I did.  OUCH!!!!!

OK, it's true, this has been a bit more than 5 minutes, because you know I forgot to set the timer, right? But I have the perfect excuse: I'm all loopy on painkillers.

So now?  Back to my nap!  Zzzzzzzz

*******

OK, I hope that made even a little bit of sense!   Now YOU click on the link and let's hear your brain droppings!

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A Real Nail Biter

Sometimes change creeps up on you so slowly you don't even notice it, but there's your kid, seemingly suddenly different.  And you know it's truly not sudden, that it has been evolving for some time, but you've missed it, even though it was going on right in front of your nose. 

That happened recently with Jacob.  I looked down at his hand the other day and noticed his nails were dirty.  Wait - what?  They were long enough to be dirty?  Jacob's nails?

Yep, long and dirty; and I had to double take.  Not because I knew I had cut them recently, but because I haven't seen them this long, haven't had to cut them for two or three years.  Ever.

Because Jacob, you see, is a nail biter.  He is a really bad, constant nail biter, down to the quick and sometimes beyond.

Make that "was."

Jacob loves to pet our cat.

And somehow whatever had propelled him towards nail biting in the past, presumably anxiety, has abated.  I am so happy about this, grateful even, and also somewhat sad that I hadn't noticed until now.

You think you are watching your kids so carefully, but some things just do slip through the cracks.  Especially with Jacob, who doesn't talk about the "why" of things.   We are often left guessing as to exactly what's going on.

Three years ago, we had never gotten an answer as to why he started biting his nails.  Never knew what was at the core of his unhappiness, that the biting of his nails helped with.  Also, at the time he hated having nails that stuck up at all, and biting certainly kept them super short all the time.  So it might have started as a sensory issue that then fulfilled an emotional need too.

Which is the cart, which is the horse?  Don't know, probably never will.

But now?  He's happy to have them growing, a little annoyed at me cutting them, but OK with it when distracted by TV.  Why?  What changed?  Good question.  We certainly don't know now, may never know.

Sometimes with Jacob detective work actually helps us to figure out what's going on.  Sometimes an answer appears weeks, months later, out of the blue.  Yet other times the mystery is just that, remaining mysterious, locked inside Jake's head; his inability to explain, a wall of silence.

Three years ago, shortly after Jacob transitioned from pre-school to elementary school, he had a backslide in his toileting habits.  Jake had toilet trained easily, when he was completely ready, at age four.  Really, one long Columbus Day weekend intensive and he was done.  Zero accidents, dry at night just weeks later, too.

But a few weeks into Kindergarten?  He was having poop accidents.

It appeared he was withholding and then when he couldn't hold it in any longer, it was coming out in skid marks.  And of course, once poop is withheld, it gets backed up, becomes hard, painful to release and a bad cycle has begun, difficult to break, especially with a child who cannot describe what is going on with him.

And we couldn't for the life of us figure out what was going wrong, what had set all this in motion.  That school was not his current wonderful school, communication was not a strong point with them. They were getting mad at me, thinking I had lied about him being thoroughly toilet trained.  I was starting to wonder if something really bad was happening to him in the bathroom at his school.  It was NOT good. 

About three months into this, I had taken Jake to the movies.  We were in the bathroom, he had pooped, and when I went to wipe him, he yelled "NO!"

And as I balled up the awful cheap movie theater t.p. in my hand I suddenly had an epiphany:

"Jake is this toilet paper scratchy and yucky, does it hurt your bottom?"

"YES! Hurts!"

"Is the toilet paper at school like this?"

"YES! Hurts!" 
 
Whew!  Mystery solved.  At home, we used soft, moist flushable wipes and our t.p. is the soft expensive kind, too.  I never would have figured this out except for that moment of serendipity.

Jacob, at eight is now able to communicate much more, often initiates conversations.  But still, mysteries abound.  Like the nail biting.  I am happy it is gone, but a small part of me would still love to know why?  Why?

But asking is going to get me nowhere.  Because about important things like this?  Conversations still often have a circular quality to them:

"Jacob, why are you crying? What's going on?"

"I'm crying because I'm sad Mommy."

"Yes, honey, I can see that. But why are you sad?"

"I'm sad because... I'm crying mommy."

"Oh, honey you are crying because you are sad.  But why are you sad, what is making you feel sad? Did something happen?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"What happened?"

"I'm sad, Mommy.  I'm crying, Mommy."

And on and on.  And I can't make suggestions, because anything I suggest he will agree to.  He would make a terrible criminal suspect, easily confessing to the most heinous of crimes, just to please his questioner, to be able to put forth an answer.

I discovered this the hard way a while ago when trying to get a sense of what had happened during a regular day at school.  I had asked:

"Did you do math, today?"

"Yes mommy I did math"

"Did you read?"

"Yes mommy I did reading."

"What did you read, Jakey?"

"I read a book, Mommy!"  OK, that's likely, and details are not his strong point.

But then to test if this was real information or just agreeableness, I threw in a ringer:

"Did you go to the moon, today, Jakey?"

"Yes Mommy, I went to the moon."

Damn!  Back to square one.

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!)

Alright? Alright!

Well, no time for the niceties, I have to get back to my nap.  But I just wanted to let everyone know that I am alright.

Waiting in the prep room. Thanks for keeping me laughing, husband!

The surgery went well, as expected; routine; a big yawn for the surgical team; just as we wanted it to go.

I got home the same day, in the evening (just in time to kiss Jake before he went to bed) and have been mostly unconscious ever since.  My husband has been taking on a lot more kid duty than usual; he is wiped out, appreciating more than ever all that I do.

Every day, dude, I do this EVERY FREAKING DAY.  If it weren't for the pain?  This would feel like a mini-vacation.

Pain killers are a beautiful thing, but also?  Crappy.  I hate feeling so fuzzy.  I get really nauseated.  So I will be stepping down on them shortly.

It's sort of a "which-way-do-I-want-to-feel-crappy?" equation. Less pain = more nausea, less nausea = more pain.  Trying to find just the right middle ground is not much fun.

I will write more in a few days.  A few pre-written posts will pop up in the interim.

I want to shout out a big thanks to all my friends, real world and virtual, who have shown me their concern and support.  It is much appreciated.

Knowing that I was traveling to the hospital with so many well-wishes wrapped around me, that I had a community standing by to step in if things had gone poorly and their help was needed?  Beyond priceless.  I am truly amazed at my good fortune.

Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous. 

And now?  Zzzzzzzzz


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Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to Surgery I go...

Today's the day I say goodbye to my gall bladder.

It's a body part I have spent my entire life paying scant little attention to.  Until recently, of course, when it has caused me a world of trouble.  Mine is full of stones, swollen and tender, so out it comes.

Today.

As you read this I may even be unconscious, under the knife.

Wait, how can I blog while heavily sedated?

Through the magic of 3 AM insomnia-fueled writing and post scheduling, of course.  Because for the few days leading up to my surgery I am a whirling dervish of planning and prepping, trying to ensure my household, and most especially my children's lives, runs as smoothly as possible with me under the weather, out of the picture.

I have been assured that now that it's done laparoscopically, a gall bladder removal (officially called a "cholecystectomy") is a cake walk, a big fat nothing of a surgery.

But still, for me?  Who has only ever been a hospital patient for my childrens' birth via c-section?  It's a big deal.

Last time I had surgery it was to gain something, to become something more, greater.  I had children, I became a Mom.

This time it is to lose a piece of me that I came into this world with, an internal organ, nestled up close to my heart.  On the right side instead of left, but still, it's one of those "vital organs" smack dab in the middle of my body and mightily protected by my bony rib cage.  I will walk out of the hospital lesser, lighter, without a part of me, incomplete.

And I know I am taking this a bit seriously, a bit metaphorically, but it also rings true.  I am likely to spend a small amount of time in mourning for my gall bladder, oh, tiny organ of ill repute.

It's just one of those organs with funny names (I mean "gall bladder"? Really?)  No non-medically oriented person knows what the heck it does, until it stops doing its job properly.  Then you know.  Oh boy, do you know.

I will, of course, not dwell too long upon my loss because life will barely be paused, giving me little time for rumination.  My children will still need to be woken up, fed, clothed, cleansed, organized,  shuttled to and from school, played with and play-dated, homework-supervised, kissed and put to bed.

And though the physical side of these tasks will be fobbed off to others for a few days while my body recovers the assault inflicted upon it, my expertise will still be constantly called upon.  I am the one who is large and in charge in our house, the general in command of all things child.

And while Ethan does not like what is happening to his mom, he understands it, will go along with the program: demand less, help more, gentle his physical love for me.

Jacob on the other hand, thanks to autism, is likely to be confused, feel terribly rejected by his mother's arms length embraces.  My unavailability will weigh heavily upon him, I who am nearly always the one who is there with and for him, every day in every way.

I will try to throw up a simple update sometime within a day of my surgery, but don't expect posts relevant to current events for about a week, post surgery.  I may end up surprising myself, but I wouldn't count on it.
 
I am guessing I will have precious little energy and focus for writing, so although I have prepared a few posts to pop up like this one, seeming fresh made, they are actually mostly pre-fab.  I don't want my blog space to remain blank for too long. 

And if I am deficient in my commenting on your blog and responding to comments on my own?  I'm sure you'll understand.

I will, likely, be sleeping, reading and attempting to move about tenderly.  Air hugging my children.  Running the ship from the sofa.

I will be doing my best imitation of a lox, more still than I have been in the eight and a half years since the boys popped out and my current hurricane life began.  I may even catch up on my sleep.  (One can always hope.)

Wish me luck!

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!)

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

I am a hot mess today.

Just a seething mass of anxiety about tomorrow's impending gall bladder removal surgery.

I do not roil easily.  This is not a normal part of my personality.  I am many things neurotic, but anxious is not high on my list of personality traits.  I am usually the person you want with you in a crisis, calm and taking charge (OK, maybe a little bit too bossy, I'll confess).

The upside is, I don't experience anxiety frequently.  The downside is, when I do experience it?  It's excruciating to me, intolerable.  It has been pointed out that I will cause situations to explode, much to my detriment, rather than tolerate an ongoing anxious uncertainty for any length of time.

But this situation?  Not at all under my control.  I just have to suck it up and wait until tomorrow at noon.  Anxiously.

Actually I guess I could eat a giant highly fatty meal (double Shack Burger, anyone?) and cause my gall bladder to go into full-on attack mode, landing me in the emergency room today.  But even I am not neurotic enough to pull that one off.

Besides, that would really hurt (like kill-me-and-put-me-out-of-my-misery-NOW kind of hurt) and when it comes to physical pain?  I am a whimpo supremo.

And also?  I have plans in place, and they don't start until tomorrow.  The kids expect to see me tonight, and I them.  And my kids?  Are getting a bit anxious about all this, too.

For Jacob it's diffuse, he probably isn't even consciously aware of the tension.  He just feels it in the air, my little autistic psychic sponge, and wants to be hugged.  A lot.

And Ethan?  Pretty much guaranteed to be his most highly annoying, out-of-control self.  The operating equation being: Ethan + anxiety = obnoxious to the 10th degree.  Sigh.

And I will work hard to channel my kindest, wisest, super-mommy self; to not react with anger out of my own anxiety, because I know he needs calming, needs love and reassurance.

So there will be fart jokes tonight.  Much mention of undergarments; requests that I smell his feet, with said feet being thrust near my face.  And I will embrace my jittery, fast dancing, fast talking kid and my dreamy, spacey one.  Tell them that everything will be alright.

And it will.  It will.

(Could someone please just hit me over the head with a frying pan and then wake me up tomorrow at noon?  No?  OK, I'll just plod on through, then.)


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!)