the weirdgirl

St. Porcelain's

I look around my house and I know our household has truly arrived at the status of “family” because we are proliferating in more creatures (human and otherwise) than ever before.  Of the things that need to be fed (besides us) we currently have two cats, a venus flytrap, vague plans for a dog (on which we feed our fantasies), some goldfish, and a water snail.  The snail is a big hit.   And I know this is only the beginning.  We also have a newly emptied small tank that I’m sure will house a lizard, turtle, or frog at some point in the future.  Or perhaps some more flesh eating plants.  (Those are cool!) 

I base this animal-overrun definition of “household with kids” on my own upbringing.  My parents were both into nature and especially my mom was pretty laid back about anything “scientific” going on in the house.  Plus, we had a decent-sized home and a yard that backed up against fruit orchards and beyond that, hills.  This led to a lot of pets and nature experiments over the years.  (I mean, besides the chickens and the rabbits.  I take no responsibility for the hippie tendencies that occurred during my youth.)  For example, one time I trucked down the hill from the pond with a plastic bag full of tadpoles.  And my mom let us keep them!  In the bathtub.  Because witnessing first hand the miraculous change from tadpole to frog trumps clean kids anyday!  Woo!

(Lesson learned from frog experiment: If you don’t know what to feed tadpoles, eventually they’ll start eating each other.  I think we made it to two frogs.)

Anyway, I always kind of planned to be fairly open to nature and animal visits like my mom.  Not that Keen’s family aren’t animal lovers as well, because they are.  They just go in a different direction.  A large portion of Keen’s family is made up of small Italian women, who all own a variety of small dogs - mainly, poodles and Chihuahuas, with maybe a Llapso Apso thrown in somewhere – and they smoke, and carry these dogs around, and wear double knits (both the women and the dogs), and the dogs all have names like Butch, and Bubbas, and Chi-Chi.  It’s all very canine Goodfellows.  (There was even a Pesci-esque poodle/coyote incident in Yosemite once, but I’ll save that for another post.)  Keen and his brother had a variety of pets growing up as well, but I can guarantee not ONE of them lived in the bathtub. 

Not that I’m letting anything live in the bathtub either.  That’s what tanks are for.

(Oh! Lesson learned from snail experiment (this is where I put two garden snails in a shoebox with dirt because I wanted to “observe” (make pets out of) them):  If you don’t know what to feed snails, they’ll eventually try to eat each other.  Nature is cruel, man!)

(Don’t worry, I let the snails go.)

ANYWAY!  The goldfish have been a new addition to our family.  It started with one, won by my son (under the sun, what fun!) at the county fair.  Ah, suburban stereotypes.  Chance was ecstatic because he luuurrves fish.  And I thought, well, we might as well get a tank (because the ones they give you at the fair are a joke) and a companion for the fish.  So I bought a small tank.  Then on a separate trip I bought another goldfish.  (A “rescue” fish, by the way. There’s a pet store near us that just does rescue animals and this goldfish was “rescued” from a pond. That just cracks me up.)  Turns out, this second fish was way too big for the tank we had. 

OK, a couple weeks later I buy a second, standard-sized tank.  (Yeah, I made the fish wait in cramped quarters. Sue me.)  I also bought two more “fancy” goldfish and a snail, and a bunch of live plants… because if you’re gonna have a regular tank you might as well make it look nice!  This weekend I transferred everything to the new tank.  It went swimmingly (especially since I never follow that “wait 24 hours for filter to adjust water” crap).  All the plants, and little fishes, and snail, were doing fine.  Except for one.

The one fish that drifted near the top of the tank for a long time, taking big gulps of air (water?).  The one that started swimming around tilted.  The one that seemed to stop eating.

The one I found belly up two days after I bought it.  Damnit!

Do you know I struggled with whether to tell the kid?  My first instinct (because if anything, and despite the Bigfoot episode, my first reaction is always truthful and I really should break out of that at some point because being too honest can, on occasion, be just as much trouble as telling big whooping lies) was to tell him and talk about it and let him do a burial.  Then I thought about the possible tears, and the promises to pick out another fish, and the whole conversation…  and I said, what am I crazy?  I do NOT need to have the death conversation with my three-year-old!   (I kind of figure that if I’m open to pets I’m gonna have this conversation plenty in the future.)

I imagine I will tell him at some point… when he notices.  Which I imagine will go something like this:

Chance:  “Mom?  Where’s da white fish?  The white fish, Mom!  Where’s white fish?”

Me:  “Oh honey, well, that fish got really sick, so I sent it to the doctor’s where they could take care of it.”   

Chance:  “The doctor’s?  When coming back?”

Me: “No, it’s not coming back, kiddo.  It’s too sick.  But they’ll take good care of it!”

Chance:  “Where, Mom?  Where it at?”

Me:  “St. Porcelain’s Hospital, honey. St. Porcelain’s of the Immaculate Fishes. But don’t worry, it’s a step up from St. Shoebox the Divine.”

(Oh look I’m breaking out of that honesty thing already.)

                    - the weirdgirl

When Bigfoot Exposes Himself

(I'm going to post the pictures of the materials they gave out right now since that's what people want to see.  However, I will add my commentary of the press conference to this shortly.)

Update: My post and more photos below!

One of the bigfoot watching them from a distance as they removed the carcass

The tongue and teeth of Bigfoot

The DNA results

The kid and I managed to attend the Bigfoot corpse press conference today.  It turns out this press conference was not supposed to be open to the public (which I didn’t see anywhere on the website, but I did wonder).  I saw the lady at the sign-in counter giving a couple of college kids in front of me a hard time (Note: if you’re trying to act legitimate, high-fiving “Bigfoot, YEAH!” is ill-advised. Also, don’t offer your “writing for the school paper” story after the fact), so I thought fast. 

Me, pushing stroller with squirmy kid to sign-in counter:  “Yes, I’m blah blah blah.  I’m writing for some ON-line sites.”  (Yes, the snooty emphasis seemed to help.)

Lady: “Do you have a business card?”

Me, unconcerned: “Sorry, not on me.”

Lady: “Sign this form and who you’re writing for.”

And… I’m in!

Meanwhile, Chance kept asking, “Where’s Bigfoot?  What does Bigfoot like?  Is Bigfoot talking?” while I shushed him and plied him with fruit snacks.  (Yet, he wouldn’t take a photo with the guy there in a Chewbacca suit. Darn it!

I had to do more fast talking after the conference when it came to getting my grubby paws on the “evidential materials”.   They were giving out two photos (what’s posted here, which are, unfortunately, copies of copies) and the DNA test conclusions, but only to credentialed press members.  People were swamping the table and even though I held back some I got caught in the fray, holding a hot, heavy and increasingly impatient three-year-old.  (Yeah, I’m a professional.) 

Tom Biscardi, who was picking and choosing who to give materials to: “Tell me a good story, people!”

Me:  “Hi, I’m writing for blazingtalons.com, a site about science and the supernatural!”  (I’m hoping my good buddy doesn’t mind that I co-opted his site.  Plug!)

Tom looks like he might give me something but turns to someone else. Then turns to another someone else.  He certainly looked like he was having fun. 

Me: waiting

waiting

waiting

Me, in an aggrieved and slightly impatient tone:  “Hey, can you let me know whether I’m going to get copies or not?  I got called in for this last minute and I’m dying here with the kid!  Thanks so much!”  Score!

See?  The trick is to act like you don’t care and you’re just doing your job.  Those college boys got nothing.  

As for the meat (har har) of the conference, I gotta tell you… it was sketchy, folks, very very sketchy.  There were a lot of vague statements reiterating what’s already on their website.  The much touted DNA and photo “evidence” is what I’ve posted here.  Some of the statements made included, “the body is at a [undisclosed] safehouse awaiting autopsy,” and “top scientists are looking into this.”  No names given.  No definitive dates for when more evidence would be available.  Even the date that the body was discovered seems to have been forgotten by the intrepid Bigfoot hunters. 

Hmmm.

The press was clearly skeptical, and towards the middle of the conference our expert hunters were getting a bit defensive and pissed off.  They seemed to not expect quite so many probing questions, especially the ones regarding inconsistencies in their background stories.  Or even (could it be true?) quite so much attention in general.  One of the gentleman (Matthew Whitton, I think) even made a statement about how they expected local interest but that they never expected as much global interest as they’ve gotten.

Hello?  It’s fucking Bigfoot!  On the most scientific basis, you’re talking a previously undiscovered primate.  And a gigantic primate at that.

And in response to the numerous times the press asked if they were sure the body was real (some just flat-out asked if it was a hoax), the response was, “Yeah! The body smells!”      

(How long does it take to “await” an autopsy, anyway?  Because that chick on Bones seems to just whip them out!)

So obviously, I’m not sold.  Deep down I kind of hope they DID find Bigfoot (because I love this shit!), but we’ll have to wait and see if anything else comes out of this.

Fun fact:
Number of Moms there with Toddler: 1  (Although I did see a couple of fan families show up later, i.e. Bigfoot-lovin’ mom, dad, and 2.5 teenaged kids.  Sign-in lady must have loosened up when it was obvious the room wasn’t full.)

And now a few more pictures. (Note to self: Need better camera!)         - wg

My almost-as-bad-as-a-Bigfoot-photo shot.

The Bigfoot guys, Matthew Whitton, Rick Dyer, and Tom Bascardi (left to right)

One smart marketing monkey (he was there representing Zimbio.com)

The marketing monkey getting his own press conference.  Don't you think wearing the suit would be reward enough?!  (BTW, that's MY stroller glowing in the background.  Yessiree.)

Legends… and so close to home!

The giant magnifying glass pointed at my head - manned, no doubt, by some prepubescent alien - has burned a hole in my skull from which melted brains have oozed to puddle around my feet.   You could fry an egg on those brains.  

This laptop is doing a decent job of scorching the hair off my crotch, too.  (Let’s pray it’s permanent.)

Since I’m too hot to think of appropriate life lessons let’s go for absurdity.  I started to write a little story about the chupacabra and an OB visit...

However, I have since learned that there is a press conference regarding the recent Bigfoot corpse capture in a town quite near me!! 

I ask you… would it be bad parenting for Chance and I to attend this press conference? 

Would it be news(blog)worthy?

Your thoughts are appreciated.               - wg

And for my next trick… let’s see how many SweetTarts I can cram in my mouth!

So yesterday was my blog anniversary - three years and 504 posts!  On the one hand, it really blows me away; three years is a long time.  I hadn’t really started this blog with any type of plan or timeframe in mind, but if someone had asked me if I’d still be writing it three years from the time I started I can’t imagine I would have said “yes”. 

I truly feel like I’ve found a great community through blogging; through their words I’ve been introduced to wonderful people whose lives and thoughts have touched my heart.  I also feel like I’ve made true friends.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everyone who stops by to listen to me blather.  And let’s face it, I do a lot of blathering. 

*sniff*  I love you guys!  (I’ll try really hard not to drunk dial anyone.)

On the other hand, as I mark this anniversary, I look at three years and 500+ pages and feel like a total slacker!  I mean holy crap!  That could be a novel!  What kind of English major am I?  For shame, ye who has revered Shakespeare and made a pledge (to myself) to join the ranks of the published (even if it’s just as a minor pulp fiction writer and not anywhere near the league of Shakespeare).  (Oh crap, now Shakespeare will think I’m a stalker… I swear, I won’t lurk around the corners of heavenly bookstores, staring at you with crazy goo-goo eyes! (You know, on the chance that you do signings, Mr. Bard Sir.))  For shame!

Oh, and the reason I didn’t post this yesterday is I was busy fucking around instead of writing. 

But that can’t be an issue.  

Big hugs to everyone!        – the weirdgirl

Squeeze my tomatoes

Yeah, baby, just like that.

We arrived home Thursday night to an abundance of tomatoes.  Bruschetta anyone?  Me and the kiddo also seemed to be fighting off some sort of summer cold.  Hopefully those tomatoes have a lot of vitamin C.

We had a nice trip and a good week (in the world of toddler behavioralism) and I have some fun photos to post.  And then yesterday, at a family party, a full-blown tantrum came crashing down.  Oy.  I am going to become one of those mothers that starts to beg off get-togethers because of "too much activity."  "Sorry, a bit overwhelming," and "It's been a long week already, don't think he's up for it," and everyone will shake their heads and deem me "overprotective" or maybe even one of those "goofy mothers" and say things like, "He'll have to get used to loud places eventually."  And you know what?  I won't care one whit.  I will be the goofy parent.  Because it's a sight better than disattaching two howling toddler cousins.

And I must remember to squeeze my boy more.  It's calming for him.

See, 'cause I had a little niggling feeling yesterday that the party was a bad idea.  Listen to your colds, people.  (Don't call them "allergies".)  Listen to the tomatoes. 

(I will post pics when I'm not so fuzzy headed.)          - the weirdgirl

Another point of view

While the weirdgirl continues her vacation away from the internet, I get the chance to stray from my usual cake decorating and cake photography.  A guest post by Jeanne Diaz of AJ's Moonlight Bakery...

In my spare time, I like to take odd perspective shots that challenge the normal view of everyday objects.  In a hotel room with the '70s textured glass separating the bathroom counter from the room counter (envision the cheapest casino hotel room on the Reno strip, lost in the '70s), I took a shot of the glass.  I thought it looked like a cityskape.  The flash illuminated a single dot near the top with six glowing dots around it, and the toiletries were blurred at the bottom.  It was like the sun shining down on shapes that looked like buildings.  Was I just high?  My grandma thought it was a picture of maggots.

So now I want to find out what my latest shot resembles, or if you can guess what it really is.  For the fabulous prize of Bragging Rights (and possibly a cool "Winner" button from the weirdgirl when she returns because she knows how to do that and she's not here to say no), tell me what you see. 

Hint:  this was taken from inside the weirdgirl house and Keen loves it. 

Another hint:  Keen does not love maggots.

Jeanne

AJ's Moonlight Bakery

Out of the house, out of our heads

We're on vacation!  And yes, we are the kind of nerds who thought it would be cool and vacationy to bring a computer along.  This plan, in theory, also eliminated the scramble to find guest posters, hand out passwords, all that jazz.  I'm not opposed to guest posts, you understand, I just had no time.  I was running around like a crazy, head-challenged chicken up until the night before we left.

Anywho.  I figured I could just post during the trip, (and catch up on blog reading! (which I was really looking forward to, being a great lazy "I don't have any to dos on MY list, ha ha" thing to do)) however we seem to be experiencing intermittent wireless.  Dish network, too.

well, poo

We're in Lake Tahoe, btw.  Lake Tahoe... land of casinos, and a big ass lake, and crazy signals, and really really really dry air!  Time for working on my tan and reading a... gasp!... book.

I'll try to post pictures as we go.  You know, if I can manage to upload.  Because of course I brought the whole photo cradle, too.

Man, I'm such a nerd.  But I think I make up for it with my ancient phone that has no texting capabilities whatsoever.  (poor twitter)

Onward to water!

          - wg

A Beginning? Keep your fingers crossed!

(Not to distract from the topic at hand, but this is my 500^th post!)

I’ve been in my cave this week, so to speak, but I’m ready to poke my nose out and growl.  (Nice growling, though. Growling to start conversations, not end them).  For those of you who have read my blog for a while you know that we were having issues with Chance (you can read about them here, here and here, and even some here).  Well, we’ve had some developments recently.

Right before I went to BlogHer, we made the decision to pull Chance out of preschool for the rest of the summer session.  Basically, he was still biting; not all the time but it was still enough that we decided a break was needed.  A break would give me more time to get assessments done and/or work with him on specific issues, and a break for him from the place where he kept getting in trouble (although he did NOT want to leave school).  He continues to be more physically rough, more active, less focused than the kids around him.  (We also have a vacation planned so it just made sense to pull him out.)  

This has been a long road to get assessments done.  I’ve been working on this process since February.  I was getting a lot of feedpushback and random advice, the two most frustrating being “just wait until he’s older,” and “read this parenting book.”  (This from professionals, some of them who hadn’t even seen Chance.)  It’s not as if I wasn’t open to trying different methods – I read the books, I implemented some of that advice – but a lot of it just didn’t feel right.  For example, people advised that I give Chance something to do every single day to “burn off energy”, when my instinct (and experience) was that he would get increasingly wound up if he didn’t have “downtime” days.  When I talked about how Chance always wanted to be on top of people, the advice I got was “just don’t ever let him climb on you and he’ll learn,” when my instinct was telling me that he somehow needed that physical touch.  Although it was suggested that I do hearing and/or speech screenings, when I asked about other sensory processing issues I got pushback.  Frankly, I needed some help (now, not six months from now) and my gut said some form of physical therapy.

A couple of weeks ago I said fuck it and I found a place that would do both speech and occupational (physical) screenings.  It was private and out of pocket, but waiting for referrals or help from the school district was getting ridiculous.

Chance had his assessments yesterday.  The therapists immediately could see, and point out, behaviors leading to the issues we’ve been having with him.  Suddenly, things we didn’t understand made a lot more sense.  Chance is showing symptoms of apraxia and dyspraxia, which are problems with motor-planning.  Essentially, when a person wants to move their body: 1) you get the idea of moving, 2) you plan the movement, and 3) you do the movement.  People who are dyspraxic get stuck at the planning movement stage and need a little extra time for the thought process.  Apraxia is similar but has to do with verbal motor planning, trying to get the words out.  Chance also seems to be hyper-aware of sound and it’s distracting the hell out of him.  The confusion of trying to process everything can cause a lot emotional buildup, anxiety or lashing out. 

Finally feedback that felt right.  Or at least a lot closer to what could work than anything before.  There have been a lot of communication disconnects between what I hear people say about Chance and what I observe.  For example, his school would tell me he can’t do such and such, when I would see him do such and such all the time at home.  The apraxia accounts for when he doesn’t respond to questions or instructions or when he sometimes avoids eye contact when you’re talking to him; he understands everything but he needs the extra time to process.  He could learn something at school and not do it there at all, but come home and do it perfectly.  Chance has problems with “on demand” instructions or requests, both physically and verbally.  This can also mean difficulty with group play.  

As for his activity level and rough playing, the occupational therapist pointed out that kids with these issues sometimes run around "wild" because running around is either easier than the processing or gives them time to process.  Chance seeks out a lot of physical contact because it helps him "ground" himself, releasing physical and emotional energy.  The biting was/is an unfortunate component of that. (Everyone who has ever observed him has said that his aggressive behavior never seemed vindictive, but like "he couldn't help himself".)

The apraxia/dyspraxia is not a definitive “diagnosis” by any means, but I feel like these are elements that we can specifically address that may help get our arms around his behavior.  We will be doing speech and occupational therapy and I have high hopes.

So that’s where we’re at.  Having a plan in place, hearing specific targeted techniques…this feels so much better than reading another book*.  

-         the weirdgirl

P.S. I went to the Parents of Children with Special Needs panel at BlogHer ’08 and I felt a lot of love and support from that community, especially being a “newbie” to this process.  I’ve also spoken to and asked advice from other blogging parents out there.  Your stories and encouragement mean a lot.  Thank you.

*Though, yes, I will be reading Out of Sync Child.

Continuity

Playing cars with my son.  The cars are at preschool (The King is the teacher!) when Chance decides that it's also a theme day.

Chance:  "OK, evewybody, it's 'jama day!"

Me (always a little slower to catch on):  "What?  Oh, it's Pajama Day?  OK.  Is everybody in their pajamas?"

Chance:  "No!  Evewybody put on!"  (starts "changing" each individual car)  "Put on jama shirt... put on jama pants... put on jama wheels..."

Domestic Greenery (in more ways than one)

(I’ve been meaning to write for days. Do you ever get in that groove where you have so many things you want to talk about it you can’t start?  Yeah, that’s where I’ve been.)

So… I don’t know if any of you have noticed… but did you know that gas prices have gotten really high?  No, really!  That and groceries.  Creep creep creep.  To the extent that we, like many families, are muttering, “Crap, we gotta watch what we’re spending.”  

We’re doing the usual… cutting shopping trips and eating out, avoiding unnecessary driving, etc.  BUT me being the child of hippies who both were into “back to nature” activities (i.e. growing food, raising chickens, preparing everything from scratch,) and were always preparing for nuclear annihilation (storing EVERYTHING) my survivalist tendencies also start kicking in.

Hey!  If we’re gonna save money, I’m gonna save us money!  (Maybe that’s a tad wee bit of the type A thing kicking in, too, I don’t know.)

I find myself going back to the techniques my parents used.  I’ve always been a gardener but usually I buy my few tomato plants every year and then I load up on flowers.  (Because flowers are pretty!)  This year, especially with having a new backyard to play with, I’m attempting to put in an edible garden.  I’ve been planting a lot more herbs, edible flowers, and veggies.  I’ve been stock piling seeds (especially cool heirlooms veggies or hard-to-find greens).  The non-edible flowers I’ve put in have been either ones that bring in pollinators or ones like Echinacea and chamomile that can serve double-duty. (For, you know, if I ever need to process my own tea.  (I never said these tendencies were rational.))  I’ve been looking for ways to start composting and putting in water buckets.  There’s been a big movement towards locally-grown food around here and I’m happy to try my hand at it.  I’m getting all green up in this joint! 

AND for the first time since I was a kid, I made my own jam! 

No biggie, right?  This is the kind of thing my parents did all the time.  Canned all their veggies, made jam, ground up wheat for fucking flour, made their own tofutti, and on and on.  Lots of people do it (well, maybe not the tofutti part).  But you gotta understand, I don’t consider myself to be the most domesticated woman around.  Because… uh, let’s see… I don’t cook, I have a cleaning service, I’m crafty but I suck at sewing, and I have NO family photo albums organized.  I don’t even own a cute apron (which even I am a little appalled at… ‘cause have you seen those ones at Anthropologie?!).  I’m pretty sure that means I fail the basic domestic diva exam. 

And the truth is, I don’t really like a lot of traditional domestic crap.  I hate cooking.  I don’t want to scrapbook.  Cleaning bathrooms suck.  Things need to be done so I do them, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.  I do like to bake (because eating baked goods rocks), and I like painting rooms or digging in the dirt or building stuff.  But those bigger, physical activities are a far cry from, say, getting my jollies off polishing the silver.

Despite all that I am feeling proud about the jam.  I made apricot-plum and white nectarine-plum jam.  They taste awesome!!  (I’m kind of blown away.)  Basically, I spent about $30 in supplies ($20 of that a one time cost for the jars) and I made 18 jars of jam.  (Do you know how much it would cost to buy 18 jars of jam at the grocery store?)      

I’m already thinking about trying to can some tomatoes if I get enough.  Maybe freeze some bush beans. 

This type of domesticity is kind of a (scary) shift for me.  But, if prices keep going up, I predict we’re going to see a lot more people going farm-esque DIY.  

All I need now are a couple of chickens.  (not)    

               - the weirdgirl

P.S. It's salt to my chafing domesticity that G.W. Bush would approve of me taking on a more traditional family role, when it's his economy that is forcing me to take on a more traditional role.  If he had any brains I'd think that was his whole plan from the beginning. "We'll just devalue the American dollar until all the women stay home in the kitchen like God meant them to."  Bastard.

But I still love my jam.