Great America
Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Il. is a great theme park. My kids LOVE the place....no surprise there! For the past 6 years or so we have had season passes. We used to live in Grayslake and the drive there was minimal. Now from Palatine it's a bit further, but we make the trek a few times a week. There's a water park open from Memorial day weekend through Labor Day Weekend every summer as well as the regular theme park, so season passes give us approximately 6 months of fun every year!
One of the many times we were there, "Clyde" and i were waiting in line for one of our favorite coasters, The Raging Bull. "Clyde" has autism. He doesn't understand standing in line and waiting very well. SFGA has done a good job of trying to make standing in line pleasant with tvs and music. Sometimes its ads for the theme park or music videos. Standing in line still poses a challenge for "Clyde". The music makes him dance....he's quite the dancer!
Well, this time, dancing wasn't enough. "Clyde" decided that he needed to make friends. Behind us in line were two really pretty black girls. They were dressed to the nines. High heels(could never figure that out in an amusement park), tight jeans that hugged their great curves, low cut tops that showed off their "assests". Of course those tops were adorned with bling. And I don't mean a little sparkle. I mean BLING. The one gal's top had some scrolled word across her chest that was completely adorned in sparkles. Of course both gals had on tops that were tight.
"Clyde" started flirting. Yep. Flirting with the girls in their snazzy outfits. They were somewhat nice to him by saying hi and smiling. Well. Wouldn't you know that was all the encouragement "Clyde" needed???
"Clyde" has always loved words, books, and shiny things. He loves shirts with pictures on them. He loves to touch the pictures and trace his fingers along the outlines.
The girls were laughing at "Clyde" and talking to him a little. He says to them, " I like dat shirt." They laughed. I said, "yes, "Clyde" those are very pretty shirts, aren't they?" He responded, "ya, I like dat shirt."
And before I could even blink, out shot "Clyde's" hands and in each hand he had a fistful of each of the gal's ample breast and their sparkly shirts. "Clyde" had a silly grin on his face and kept saying "sparkly" as the girl screamed.....
Yes, I got to meet security that day........
Monday, May 28, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Church 2.0
Church 2.0
Yes. It seems the challenge to take small children to church plagues me, and I have yet to learn my lesson. I still take them. Supposedly God loves them and wants them in his house. And since most Catholic churches have undergone renovations to have a more circular worship space, they have done away with cry rooms. SO, yes, the entire congregation is subjected to my crying, yelling, unruly children.
Some years have gone by and the girl child is now a part of our lives. She has learned her older brothers will do anything for her and whenever they are around, throwing things is a game, for they retrieve each item, over and over again. She used a pacifier. I have ALWAYS hated the stupid names people over the years have given them..."paci", "binky", "nuknuk", "looly", etc......makes me shudder to hear them. I revolted at anyone referring to any of my children's pacifiers as one of those. However, i too, DID have a "cutesy" name for theirs......"SUCKY". I was never without LOTS of "suckys" at all times. I had them in my pockets, purse, diaper bag, stroller bottom, glove compartment, anywhere i could hide a spare, it was there.
Church. We were there. "Bonnie" was in a relatively good mood and awake for once during church...she was probably 8 months old? Old enough to have learned the throw it and my big brothers will fetch game. Well, that day at Church was no exception. She was throwing those suckys. HARD. Who knew an 8 month old girl child could have such an arm?
Well, as it would happen, one of those suckys made its way under....WAY under the pew in front of us. I stopped the brother from getting it, subbed another one and figured we could get it after mass. Yes. It got quiet. VERY quiet in the church. There was no carpeting anymore at this church so the slightest sound was amplified in a big way. "Clyde" saw the sucky under the pew. And sweet kid that he was.....he decided to try to get that sucky. Before i could even react, "Clyde" was over the kneeler and wriggling under the pew in front of us. He was successful in the retrieval of that sucky. He wriggled back out from under the pew and over the kneeler.
Now, "Clyde" has special needs. He was 7 before he could really talk. What he could say you had to know him to understand. Plus, he did NOT have all the letter sounds. He had some words, and every now and then a few would come out strung together. Today was one of those days.
"Clyde" scooted out from under the pew, over the kneeler, stood up, held the pacifier high, and in the near silent church, triumphantly at the top of his lungs he shouted,
"HEWRE HER FUCKY, MOM!!"
From my spot under the pew, i could see the horrified looks on the faces of surrounding parishioners and could hear the ripple of laughter......
Yes. It seems the challenge to take small children to church plagues me, and I have yet to learn my lesson. I still take them. Supposedly God loves them and wants them in his house. And since most Catholic churches have undergone renovations to have a more circular worship space, they have done away with cry rooms. SO, yes, the entire congregation is subjected to my crying, yelling, unruly children.
Some years have gone by and the girl child is now a part of our lives. She has learned her older brothers will do anything for her and whenever they are around, throwing things is a game, for they retrieve each item, over and over again. She used a pacifier. I have ALWAYS hated the stupid names people over the years have given them..."paci", "binky", "nuknuk", "looly", etc......makes me shudder to hear them. I revolted at anyone referring to any of my children's pacifiers as one of those. However, i too, DID have a "cutesy" name for theirs......"SUCKY". I was never without LOTS of "suckys" at all times. I had them in my pockets, purse, diaper bag, stroller bottom, glove compartment, anywhere i could hide a spare, it was there.
Church. We were there. "Bonnie" was in a relatively good mood and awake for once during church...she was probably 8 months old? Old enough to have learned the throw it and my big brothers will fetch game. Well, that day at Church was no exception. She was throwing those suckys. HARD. Who knew an 8 month old girl child could have such an arm?
Well, as it would happen, one of those suckys made its way under....WAY under the pew in front of us. I stopped the brother from getting it, subbed another one and figured we could get it after mass. Yes. It got quiet. VERY quiet in the church. There was no carpeting anymore at this church so the slightest sound was amplified in a big way. "Clyde" saw the sucky under the pew. And sweet kid that he was.....he decided to try to get that sucky. Before i could even react, "Clyde" was over the kneeler and wriggling under the pew in front of us. He was successful in the retrieval of that sucky. He wriggled back out from under the pew and over the kneeler.
Now, "Clyde" has special needs. He was 7 before he could really talk. What he could say you had to know him to understand. Plus, he did NOT have all the letter sounds. He had some words, and every now and then a few would come out strung together. Today was one of those days.
"Clyde" scooted out from under the pew, over the kneeler, stood up, held the pacifier high, and in the near silent church, triumphantly at the top of his lungs he shouted,
"HEWRE HER FUCKY, MOM!!"
From my spot under the pew, i could see the horrified looks on the faces of surrounding parishioners and could hear the ripple of laughter......
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Pancakes
Pancakes.
Simple enough. Every mom has made endless stacks of pancakes. Because what kid doesn't like them??
Girl child, also known as "Bonnie", had to be about 2 maybe 3 years old. She never missed a thing going on. She saw ALL. She remembered it, too....well, SOME of it anyway.
I, like every mom I know, had a box of pancake mix in the pantry. Its the "just add water" kind....the kid you can make before the coffee is ready and the kids are wide awake screaming for food, the kind you can make hungover or sleep deprived. The kind you can make without measuring the mix or the water. Just add one or the other til it looks "right".
Well, I must have slept too late, or took too long to get ready one day. The kids are relatively quiet....which, yes. I KNOW should have caused concern, but, the peace was nice.....
I came down the stairs to the kitchen level. I stopped mid way down. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, all along the counters, tables, chairs, living room sofa, chairs, coffee table, floor and ending at a kitchen chair was a trail of white powder. There in her yellow flowered footie jammies, was the cute, sweet little girl child I had once dreamed of. In front of her on the chair was the now empty box of pancake mix with a fairly large pile of mix on the chair. That cute little toddler was patting her hands in the pile of mix.
I gasped, and said, "oh, "Bonnie", WHAT are you doing?" And without stopping her little hands playing in the mix, she looked over her shoulder at me. The look on her face would stop a charging army. It would reduce a lesser person to a very small pile of ashes. She responded, with all the disdain she could muster, "Makin pancakes. Duh!" and returned to her pile of mix on the chair., while shaking her head.
I had no response. She struck me speechless. Completely, utterly speechless. In my mind, all I could think was how grateful I was that she hadn't added water yet.
Simple enough. Every mom has made endless stacks of pancakes. Because what kid doesn't like them??
Girl child, also known as "Bonnie", had to be about 2 maybe 3 years old. She never missed a thing going on. She saw ALL. She remembered it, too....well, SOME of it anyway.
I, like every mom I know, had a box of pancake mix in the pantry. Its the "just add water" kind....the kid you can make before the coffee is ready and the kids are wide awake screaming for food, the kind you can make hungover or sleep deprived. The kind you can make without measuring the mix or the water. Just add one or the other til it looks "right".
Well, I must have slept too late, or took too long to get ready one day. The kids are relatively quiet....which, yes. I KNOW should have caused concern, but, the peace was nice.....
I came down the stairs to the kitchen level. I stopped mid way down. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, all along the counters, tables, chairs, living room sofa, chairs, coffee table, floor and ending at a kitchen chair was a trail of white powder. There in her yellow flowered footie jammies, was the cute, sweet little girl child I had once dreamed of. In front of her on the chair was the now empty box of pancake mix with a fairly large pile of mix on the chair. That cute little toddler was patting her hands in the pile of mix.
I gasped, and said, "oh, "Bonnie", WHAT are you doing?" And without stopping her little hands playing in the mix, she looked over her shoulder at me. The look on her face would stop a charging army. It would reduce a lesser person to a very small pile of ashes. She responded, with all the disdain she could muster, "Makin pancakes. Duh!" and returned to her pile of mix on the chair., while shaking her head.
I had no response. She struck me speechless. Completely, utterly speechless. In my mind, all I could think was how grateful I was that she hadn't added water yet.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Church
Church
Yes. I take my children to church. Regularly. It is a constant struggle to get them out of bed, dressed somewhat appropriately, shoe-d, in the car and there before Mass is half over much less already started. Sometimes i succeed. And while there, I ask God over and over why? I shake my head. I usually want to crawl under the pew, more than once.
It was Ash Wednesday. This is one of the most somber masses of the year. There is no music. No fanfare. You are expected to be quiet. Reserved. Introspective. I took my two boys to Ash Wednesday mass alone. Their dad was unable to accompany us due to his work schedule. So we went.
We filed up to the front to receive our ashes. I believe "Clyde" was 4 and his brother was 2. It was the first time we attended this particular church, (as dragging 2 toddlers and their dad to mass every Sunday at this point had proven to be a battle not worth having. I watched Mass on tv and got WAY more out of it.) and we were about to make our mark.
After being marked with the ashes, we filed back to our seats. #2 son was quite precocious, and very curious and he stared at all the people around us. He looked at me and got a horrified expression on his little face. All of a sudden, he says, "mom." I ignored him. "mom." a little louder this time. I shushed him.
"MOM!" Shocked he yelled, i shushed him again and said, "What C?" He responded in a panicked voice, "mom, you have DIRT on your face!"
"MOM!" Shocked he yelled, i shushed him again and said, "What C?" He responded in a panicked voice, "mom, you have DIRT on your face!"
"I know, C. So do you." he thought about that a bit. then all of a sudden he yells, "GET IT OFF!!!" Panicked by the scene he was making, I rubbed his head near the ashes, and said, "it's gone. now be quiet!" Well, the little guy then started looking around at all the other worshipers. "mom." I rolled my eyes. "mom!" I shushed him. "MOM!!" "what now?" In his panicked voice, "Everyone has dirt on their faces:" "I know, C. We're supposed to." Again, silence as he thought about that. "mom." "mom." "MOM!" "What C?" Very panicked this time, "put it back." "what?" "put it back, put it back!! PUT MY DIRT BACK!!" Shocked, I looked at my 2yr old, touched my forehead, and then rubbed his forehead again. "there. now BE QUIET!" Yes, we were being watched. We had gone from the mom with the cute little boys to the floor show. Great. I looked up at the ceiling of the church and prayed a silent prayer, "Please just let me get through the rest of this mass!!!"
Communion time. We file up. The Priest gently touches each boy and whispers some kind of blessing. Then i receive communion. "Body of Christ." "Amen." And i herd my little boys back to our seats. I lower the kneeler and kneel to say my post communion prayers. "Mom." I ingore him. "MOM." I shush him. "MOM!!!" He is NOT to be ignored. "What C?" and at the top of his little lungs, in a church where even a pin dropped on the carpet could be heard,
" I WANNA PIECE OF CHRIST!!!!!"
Yep. I crawled under the pew as a ripple of laughter spread through out the church, and from my hiding place under the pew, I saw the priest struggle not to laugh.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Challenge
So, I have been challenged. Challenged to write a blog. I just spent the past weekend with an amazing group of 36 moms. We all have children with a rare seizure disorder. We converged on the city of Indianapolis for a weekend of rest? right. relaxation? right. More like a LOT of talking, hugging, crying, sharing, drinking, eating, dancing, more hugging, more crying, more sharing. Some went to the art museum, some got massages, some (including myself) got tattoos. But, ALL connected and left with a renewed sense of family. You see, family isn't necessarily what you're BORN into.....its what you create. It's the people that you make deep connections with. People you never forget.
SO, why did they challenge me to this blog?? I guess I'm one of those people they will never forget. I am pretty sure it has nothing to do with my looks, my pocket book, my income, or even that i was an "ink virgin" til last Friday. No. Some say I'm a natural born story teller. Some just love the antics of my kids. Oh, did i mention that there are 3 of them?? Did I mention that two of them have that rare seizure disorder? I guess not....well, in actuality, i just did! So, Lisa, Jennifer, Dina, Katie, & the other 2012 Tiger Mommas, this blog is for you! :)
To anyone else that happens by, enjoy for this is also for you. For any momma.....any parent that has glorified in their children's triumphs, but tell the stories of their antics instead.
welcome to my blog,
FLAMING TAMPONS!!
SO, why did they challenge me to this blog?? I guess I'm one of those people they will never forget. I am pretty sure it has nothing to do with my looks, my pocket book, my income, or even that i was an "ink virgin" til last Friday. No. Some say I'm a natural born story teller. Some just love the antics of my kids. Oh, did i mention that there are 3 of them?? Did I mention that two of them have that rare seizure disorder? I guess not....well, in actuality, i just did! So, Lisa, Jennifer, Dina, Katie, & the other 2012 Tiger Mommas, this blog is for you! :)
To anyone else that happens by, enjoy for this is also for you. For any momma.....any parent that has glorified in their children's triumphs, but tell the stories of their antics instead.
welcome to my blog,
FLAMING TAMPONS!!
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