Keep Calm and Carry On

this time it's not my fault!

2010-11-25T06:59:00.000+10:00

Hellooo! Anyone out there?

I'm back after a few weeks of major computer drama. About six weeks ago my computer overheated and turned itself off. I noticed that the hard drive was somehow up against a cupboard, so I moved it away and carried on as usual, putting the malfunction down to that.

Well, about two weeks ago, I came home to discover that, in my absence, the computer had turned itself off again. More ominously, there was a bit of a funny smell...

In the spirit of adventure, or possibly lunacy, I turned the beast on again. Within seconds (yes, literally) great clouds of dark grey smoke were billowing out of the back of the hard drive.

You won't be surprised to know that it was dead. Very, very dead.

No, I don't have a lovely shiny new computer now. In fact, we now have an old hard drive from Pacino's work. It's mostly useless, and so very s-l-o-w. The guy who connected it up for me (I'd paid him large amounts of money to tell me the old one was dead,. so while he was there I got him to save me a few days angst and connect it all up) told me that we really need to get a new one pronto, but this one will do for a time. Luckily, because there's no new one coming for quite a while. He also advised me not to overload it with too much "stuff", so I haven't bothered connecting the camera or anything. So, boring blogs from me for a bit.

We didn't lose anything much, because I'd backed everything up a few months ago. Any photos that we lost are still on the memory card in the camera, so all is well there.

I have so much blog reading to catch up on! I've missed hearing about everyone's adventures. So that's where I'm heading next, and I'll be back soon to fill you in on our news.

a visit from the mad hatter

2010-10-13T10:41:00.000+10:00

Apparently, our dogs needed hats. So the Gig decided to make them some. She used her old jeans and some elastic that she ~~found lying about~~ stole from the Bear's party hat, and created hats. For dogs. Go figure.

Jasper, being the media tart that he is, wears his hat with pride and, may I say, panache.

Harlan (in the green collar), on the other hand, feels faintly ridiculous in his. I can't imagine why.

But the title of Hat-Wearer-Extrordinaire must go to the Bear. Anyone who can look this sensational in a sparkly purple bowler hat gets my vote!

This was the best photo I could get. After all, what's the fun of wearing a sparkly purple bowler hat if you're not running around in circles?

time for a catch up!

2010-10-07T09:06:00.000+10:00

Slacker McGee, reporting for blogging duty.

I'm still alive! I just really haven't been in the mood for blogging lately, and we've been so busy that I've barely had time to anyway. I'm really sorry that I left you all with such a negative post for so long, but I'm in a better mood now, so this one will be happier. Not that I actually have any idea what I'm planning to write, mind you. It's a sort of "fly by the seat of my pants" post. Think of it as an adventure, if you will.

So where to start? Maybe with our family holiday to the beach last month. We had a ball, even though it rained most of the time we were there. The Bear re-discovered his obsession with lifts (elevators), and we passed the time merrily away by riding in the lift probably 40 times every day. Bear in mind that we were on the ground floor and didn't actually need to use the lift at all. He lost all of his words that week, but did find one new one - "Ni". Or, as we might say, "Lift". Seriously, that was the only word he said all week. But he said it so often that it took me a day or two to realise that he wasn't saying anything else!

The Gig had a great time swimming at the pool and the beach. Who remembers those freezing swimming sessions as a child, with your parents wrapped up in winter woollies at the side of the pool, while you, teeth chattering and lips turning a fetching shade of blue, swore blind that you weren't cold? You do? Then you'll be able to imagine the Gig's pool time perfectly!

It was a lovely holiday, though not remotely restful or relaxing. But now we're back to reality, which for me involves a lot, and I do mean a lot, of time in the car, ferrying my children from one activity or therpay session to another. It seems that everything we do is on the other side of town. Speech and OT are a twenty minute drive away, and the autism siblings group that the Gig starts today is half an hour away, in good traffic. Of course, it finishes right on peak hour...

We do have some sad news. Our beloved little dog Harlan has heart failure. It can be treated but not cured, and his life expectancy is probably about eighteen months. We are very sad, but determined to make his life happy, if cut short. He's eight years old, and heart failure is very common in Cavaliers, but it's still come as a shock.

I'm having trouble (again!) with uploading pictures, so I'll leave you with something to imagine instead. The Bear loves Bob the Builder, and every now and then he brings me his Bob shirt, which shows Bob wearing a hard hat and holding a spanner, to put on him. Then, he grabs his Bob hard hat and Bob spanner, and runs down to the mirror in my room. He puts the hat on, and holds the spanner in exactly the same way that Bob is. Then, deeply satisfied, he looks at himself in the mirror. That's how my gorgeous little boy plays at "being Bob the Builder". How cute is that?

Right, the TV is silent, which means that the Wiggles is finished. More worryingly, the Bear is silent too. I'll see you later!

ask no questions...

2010-09-01T21:45:00.000+10:00

You could be like me, and ask the question you've been putting off for months. You could think that you really want to know the answer; that you can cope with it; that anything's better than not knowing.

You'd be wrong.

I asked the question, and now I have to live with the answer.

It was a one-part question with a two-part answer.

Part one: The Bear will almost certainly develop functional speech.

Part two: He is unlikely to develop social speech.

In other words, he'll be able to tell me he's hungry but not that he's sad. Or certainly, not why he's sad. No social speech.

I've been lying in bed, unable to sleep, with that phrase running through my head: "No social speech. No social speech. No social speech."

And another thing. Echolalia. I'd been thinking it was cute, and quirky, if somewhat annoying at times. But it has just dawned on me that when I say "Hello Bear" and he says "Eh-o Bear", it's because he doesn't know what to say. It's such a basic instinct, to say hello to someone who says hello to you. How can you not know what to say? "Hello Bear". No social speech.

There's more I want to say about this, but I can't quite sort my thoughts out. (No social speech. No social speech.)

I'll be back soon, with my happy hat back on, I promise.

big boy bed

2010-08-25T13:38:00.000+10:00

In about twenty minutes, the Bear's brand new big boy bed will be delivered.

We hadn't planned to get him a bed quite this soon. We liked the fact that he is contained in the cot, and that for whatever reason, my climbing monkey hadn't ever thought to climb out of it.

But on Monday night, I made a discovery.

It was about 6pm, and the Bear was in his room. I thought I'd grab the opportunity to try to read him a story. (I know, I know, what was I thinking - the Bear doesn't listen to stories.) I sat down with him on my lap, and read "Each peach pear plum, I spy - Bear, what are you doing? Come out from under the co..."

And that's when I saw it. The base of the cot was sagging, just a bit. I pulled myself up from the floor, using the cot as leverage in my unfit way, and the base sagged just a wee bit more. "Oh crap", I thought. I lifted up the mattress and saw, not a cot base, but a collection of kindling held together by more kindling. "Oh, crappity crap crap crap!", I thought again.

I can only assume that the Bear had been practising his new-found skill of jumping. A lot.

So we made a frantic phone call to Aunty S, who lives round the corner, I threw the kids into the car, and we went round to borrow their travel cot.

By the time we got home, Pacino was home as well. While the Gig entertained the Bear, Pacino and I ~~effortlessly assembled the travel cot~~ swore, shoved, swore some more, had a tiny tiff, and eventually got the travel cot assembled.

And the next morning, the Bear and I went shopping for a new big boy bed, which has just been delivered as we speak. I'm not putting it up until Friday, because I need to put the baby gate up at his door first. Also, the Bear will be at daycare on Friday, and, to be honest, I'd rather not have his help.

A big boy bed. My little baby Bear. Excuse me while I cry.

the old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be

2010-08-20T12:22:00.000+10:00

Soon, I will be the amazing woman who baffles hairdressers the world over. You, dear readers, will be able to say, "I knew her when..."

When my hair wasn't completely and irreversibly grey. When I had a bit of chestnut, chocolate brown, blonde, boring brown, red, black (that was bad). Before my hair changed in an instant from lovely, glossy, freshly coloured gorgeousness to wiry, stressed-out grey. The sort of grey that says "Brand new semi? Foils? Pshaw! I'll see you your semi and I'll raise you some stressed-out Mummy GREY!"

So what's causing this freakish phenomenon?

Really?

You had to ask?

Well, it's been coming on for a while now, but the defining moment was on Wednesday morning. I went to the loo, leaving the Bear deeply engrossed in Bob the Builder. On my return, a bare sixty seconds later, he was up on the kitchen bench, playing with something. On closer inspection, I realised that he was playing with the cover of the phone point. In fact, he'd taken the cover off (how, I'll never know, as it was allegedly screwed on; the screws are still there) and was playing with the pretty little wires inside!! Not only that, but he'd taken a picture off the wall, removed the hook, and put the (metal) hook in his mouth!!

Playing with electrical wires while chewing a metal hook.

There's no hairdresser alive who can deal with this sort of grey.

call me

2010-08-14T15:41:00.000+10:00

The Gig wants a mobile (cell) phone. Pacino and I have told her that she has to wait until she's at secondary school, in about eighteen months. But she wants one now.

Last week, on the public holiday, we took the kids out for lunch. It was a lovely meal, apart from being completely bombarded with phone talk by Miss Eleven. (It's a safety thing, Mum, if you're ever late picking me up; it's so I can let you know if I have something on after school; it's so blah blah blah...) Her arguments were actually very well-reasoned and carefully thought out.

Which made her all the more surprised when we still said no!

I did, jokingly, offer her a phone like my mum's - ie, very basic, no camera, no internet access - you get the picture. But no. Apparently, that would be more embarrassing than not owning a phone at all.

Basically, the Gig wants a phone for the show-off factor.

So we finished lunch, came home and relaxed. I picked up the Gig's handbag, and, curious about why it was so full, yet so light, opened it. Inside was Ellie, the Gig's beloved soft elephant which she has had since babyhood. And nothing else.

That's right, folks. The same pre-teen who so desperately wants a phone is the same little girl who still takes her Ellie with her at times.

A phone? Not yet, I think.

disappointing news

2010-08-13T11:25:00.001+10:00

Yesterday I got an email from the autism centre that the Bear will be going to.

Attached was the newsletter.

In the newsletter was a little piece welcoming "Bear (not his real name), X and Y".

Hmm, I thought. That's odd. I know he's at the top of the list, but they're welcoming him before he's even started.

Hmmmm, I thought. That really is odd. Why would they welcome him when he hasn't started?

So, I rang the centre manager, just to chat about coming in and having a look and a chat. She said that Pacino and I could come without the Bear, then, closer to the time that he starts, we could bring him in.

"Any idea", I asked, "about when that would be?"

"Oh", she said, "not till early next year at this stage."

"Oh", I said, "because I was told by the enrolments officer a few weeks ago that he was second from the top of the list, and that he'd have a place by early October if not sooner."

"I'm not sure why you would have been told that, because any movement that was going to happen at the centre has already happened."

Alrighty then.

Second phone call, this time to the enrolments officer. "Could you please clarify this for me? No, you have no idea why I'd have been told that either, when he's about 6th on the list? Well, I noticed that you've welcomed in the newsletter another boy called Bear. Could you possibly have got them confused when you spoke to me?"

Yep, that's what happened. She was terribly apologetic, possibly because I was crying so much I couldn't speak properly, but that didn't change anything.

Bear is not second from the top, and about to get a place any minute.

There are, in fact, five or six children in front of him, and there will be no place for the Bear until late January.

It felt like the end of the world, but it's not really. I spoke to his speech therapist about it, and she said that it won't do him any harm at all to wait, and it might even be a good thing. Their programme is very intensive, and the Bear doesn't cope well, at this stage, with too much on his plate. Another five months could well make all the difference.

I'm obviously really pleased that it won't affect him, but if I'm honest, part of the reason I was so looking forward to getting the place was so that I could have a break. I love the Bear beyond words, but he is very full on. I've been hanging on by the skin of my teeth waiting for that place, and it's very difficult to think that I have to wait even longer.

However, life goes on, and I'll just have to think outside the square in order to get a bit of time alone.

In the meantime, here's another park photo, just because he's so unbearably (get it? unbearably?) cute.

family photo

2010-08-10T13:11:00.000+10:00

Perhaps we need to try again!!!

it's a long way to tipperary

2010-08-09T12:41:00.001+10:00

And it's a long way from Australia to England.

This morning, the kids, my Mum and I trekked out to the airport to say goodbye to my sister, her husband and their gorgeous son as they start their new adventure in England. It'll be at least two years before we see them again. The Gig will be a teenager next time she sees her aunty, uncle and cousin. The Bear will be five.

We didn't really have any adventures to speak of at the airport, apart from the Bear's major disappointment when we walked past a lift (elevator) not once but twice!

The Gig and her cousin had a nice time watching the planes and exploring the airport shops - ahhhh, the freedom of being big kids!

After we said goodbye (which I don't want to talk about because I'm too traumatised!), Mum and I dropped the Gig off at school, much to her disgust, then went out for coffee. It was a bit too early in the day to drown our sorrows (and besides, my Mum doesn't drink) so we decided to smother them with muffins instead. Not that we're emotional eaters or anything.

So farewell, Mrs T!! See you in a couple of years, and remember to keep reading the blog! Oh, and you could comment every now and then if you liked!!!

a morning in the park (with pictures!)

2010-08-05T12:49:00.000+10:00

The Bear and I had a lovely morning at the park with his friend M, and M's mum B. The boys had a blast

together. Or, at least, M had a blast with a few other little boys at the park, and the Bear had a blast running around, turning on the taps, and stealing people's food.

Apologies for the mixed-up captions - I've been fighting with my computer over it for the last half hour, and, as I'm now losing the will to live, I give up. If you can't work out which caption fits which picture, then really, I can't help you!!

We're trying to teach the Bear that smacking Mummy's face isn't the best way to display excitement. Clapping hands is way more socially acceptable, and who better to demonstrate how much fun it is than your best mate?

The Bear loves to slide - on anything, whether it's an actual slide, or the arm of a sofa, or my outstretched leg. Here, he's sliding down a yellow ladder. Even with a nappy on, that can't be comfortable!

Thirsty work! Luckily Mum left her coffee here! (Don't worry, it was empty!)

By the time we left, the Bear's trousers were soaking wet, as were his shoes and socks. Luckily our winters are so balmy and lovely! Some of the other Mums were looking a bit annoyed that the Bear was wasting water, and worse, showing their kids some bad habits. Tough! He was having fun and not hurting anybody, so splash away, my little water-obsessed son, splash away!

Here's a second copy of that last picture, purely to demonstrate my techno-idiocy. Don't know how I got two up there; certainly don't know how to get rid of one of them!

Finally, a cuddle with Mummy finishes a perfect morning!

benevolent dictatorship

2010-07-30T13:53:00.001+10:00

I am the oppressed masses in the Bear's (and occasionally the Gig's) dictatorship.

The laws of this dictatorship are many, varied, and ever-changing. They are phoenix-like in their ability to rise from the ashes of my attempts to overthrow them. They are like a hydra - cut of one head, and two more grow. (The laws, not my children. I have never even attempted to lop off a child's head, I promise!)

If you could all just bear with me, I'd like to share some of the Bear's laws with you.

Mummy, you work for me. Never forget that. If I want you, you must, repeat must, be at my beck and call. Instantly. No selfish unpacking of the dishwasher, or making of beds. I'm in charge here, Mummy, and I call the shots.
Climbing is fun, Mummy, and I, Pu Yi Last Emperor, have a God-given right to climb wheresover and whensoever I choose. If that's onto the kitchen bench, so be it.
Water is fun. Running water is more fun. I may, at any time, turn on any tap I like. I do not have to tell you about this. In fact, it's an awful lot more fun if I don't. The sensation of running water can and will be reproduced by the judicious or otherwise tipping out of any and all beverages. I'm aware that I may dehydrate if I don't drink said beverages, but that is not my concern. You are the mother; this worry is yours alone.
Daytime sleeps are the preserve of the weak and feeble. I will retire to my cot during the day for the sole purpose of playing with my toy phone, reading a couple of books, throwing said phone and books out of my cot when I've had enough (3 minutes will usually suffice), rocking the cot until you are sure it will fall over, screaming and doing a poo. When you get me up, I will be cranky through lack of sleep. Again, Mummy, not my concern.
Sitting at the table is boring and pointless. In my dictatorship, food is to be eaten either a) whilst on the move, or, and preferably b) from someone else's - ie your, Mummy - plate.
The TV should always be on. I will ask for Bob, because it's the only one I can say, but you should be aware that Bob can also mean Tweenies, Wiggles or RazzleDazzle. Bob can also, and I do think this is self-explanatory, mean the text-bar on Fox Sport News. You will know immediately which programme I want to watch. You are, after all, the Mummy.
Books are ok, but they are to be read my way. I shall hold your pointer finger tightly, touch each object in the picture, and you shall tell me what it is. If it is a banana, I may tell you what it is. But don't count on it.
Toys are for throwing. Enough said.
Unless they are for sliding down the TV screen.
Your arms are always to be free for carrying me. I won't want to be carried, of course, but I must know that, should I wish it, your arms are free.
I will behave perfectly for my therapists. For you, Mummy, not so much.
My right shoe must always be put on first, or I think my feet might fall off. Or the sky might fall in. Or something, but it's important, Mummy, so make sure you remember.
When taking the Gig to school, we must always go the same way, even if the road is closed for 8 weeks due to roadworks. Ignore this law at your peril: my scream is even more shrill in the car.
Running is my preferred method of transport. And I run fast, and I have no sense of danger. Just be aware of this, Mummy.
Holding hands is outlawed. Don't even try it. It is my right to lie down in the middle of the road should any and all hand-holding be attempted.
Kissing is tolerated, but my preferred way of communicating affection is to press my forehead very hard against yours. It may hurt you, but I like it, and I'm the dictator here.
You may not hug Daddy or the Gig. At all, ever.
Last (for now), but most important of all, you will love me so much that you feel like your heart will break from it.

So there you have the laws under which I live; the Bear's, anyway. The Gig's I'll save for another day.

These laws may be harsh and draconian, but you know what? The Dictator is so very, very worth it.

PS, sorry about the lack of photos recently, but there's a gremlin in my pictures folder, and I don't know how to get it out. I tried showing it "Bright lights! Bright lights!" but it didn't work.

Update on the Bear

2010-07-28T11:13:00.002+10:00

The Bear is having Speech Therapy as we speak. His lovely therapist took one look at me this morning and said "Would you like me to take him by myself and you can have half an hour to yourself?" ("Um, yes!") That would have to be the best offer I've had all month! He had a hissy fit when I left the room, and has had another couple of tantrums, and come out of the room a couple of times, but it's not going too badly, I don't think.

So how is he going, in general?

His speech is very slowly coming along. He still greatly prefers to use non-verbal communication, such as taking my hand and leading me to what he wants, but is slowly starting to use a few words. I feel that he has not only a speech delay but also a speech impairment *, meaning that the words he does use spontaneously are quite difficult to understand. Funnily enough, his echolalic words are much easier to understand, but I guess that could be because I've just either said or heard them, so I know what he's saying.

He understands some signs, but is only using one, and that one only sparingly. It's the sign for "GO!", and it's a fun one, because it often means that the "Wait" is over and it's his turn on the slide.

The Bear's behaviour is, shall we say, trying right now. One of his stims is taking off screw caps, which means that if he can get his hands on anything at all, it's usually all over the floor in about three seconds. He is also still climbing onto the kitchen bench at any opportunity, usually to try and get the phone, but if there's anything else up there he'll explore that too. He has started hitting again, when he's frustrated, and I've noticed that he's starting to bite his own hands a fair bit. Scratching is still very much part of his repertoire as well. Another new trick is to tip all of his toys out on the floor, then walk away. There is no desire whatsoever to play with anything; it's all about the noise. He also likes to brush anything that's on a surface onto the floor.

Right, well, I've had my whinge, so here's some of the good stuff. He has started talking on a pretend phone. He says, "Eh-oo, Bobba, ya-ya-ba-ba, Byeeeee!", which translates as "Hello, Bob the Builder, (mysterious builder-speak), Bye". It's the same scenario every time, which I understand is typical of ASD kids, but it's a fantastic start.

And yesterday at his special needs playgroup, Twinkle Twinkle came on. He gave an enormous smile, then started running around the room in a giant circle, singing along (perfectly in tune...I think we may have a bit of a musician on our hands), and clapped madly at the end. It was a magic moment, and I really wished I'd had my video camera (except that I don't own one!) with me.

Anyway, speech is nearly over, and I can hear him screaming, so I'm off for now!

*His speech therapist has just told me that he does have elements of verbal dyspraxia as well as PDD-NOS.

a love/hate relationship

2010-07-22T12:37:00.001+10:00

I've been hanging out on facebook a bit lately, ever since some bright spark discovered that it's 20 years since we all left school. So old school friends are popping up everywhere. So are the old school enemies, suddenly wanting to "friend" me. Also, the old school "I really don't remember you - are you sure we went to school together?" people.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. Some of these girls (it was an all-girls school) were quite mean to me, or quite mean to my friends. One girl in particular was very funny. Side-splittingly funny. But always at someone's expense. And now, twenty years later, I don't find it so funny. But she's my fb friend.

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don't want to offend anyone by ignoring friendship requests. But it does seem hypocritical to "friend" people that I barely remember, and didn't necessarily like anyway.

I'm looking forward to our 20 year reunion, but really only so that the girls I'm still friends with (very close friends, in most cases) can all be in the same place at the same time. It's been too long since that happened.

Don't get me wrong, fb has put me back in touch with two people that I'd completely lost touch with - one from school and one from piano lessons (actually, not to split hairs, but they're both from piano lessons). I'm delighted that these friends have come back into my life, and very grateful for the chance to reconnect with them. But I can't reconnect with everyone. For one thing, I don't have time. Friendship is more than "liking" someone's status update.

I love the Internet. I've made many Internet friends, and I treasure these friendships. I have an online mother's group, and although we're all a bit slack these days about checking our fb page, I read their blogs, those who have them, including my buddy The Missus. (You may remember her from Good News/Bad News - hey Missus, we need to get that going again!) I'm also part of an online book club. It's my sanity-saver, my reminder that I have a brain, and a group of real friends. And I've made some lovely friends through blogging, too. So I'm in no way suspicious of on-line friendships. But fb just isn't the same. I'm getting tired of the voyeurism, peeking into the lives of people I have, otherwise, nothing to do with. I'm tired of wondering who will read my updates, and how they might respond.

I'm not going cold turkey on fb. Not just yet, anyway. It's a handy way to touch base with people I really care about, and a handy place to make plans and share news. But I am going to stop commenting on updates of people that I barely know. I'm not going to check out their photos, just to see if they've put on weight since school, or how cute their kids are (gorgeous, always!).

I'm going to concentrate on my real (whether IRL real or Internet real) friends. You know who you are :-).

looking after myself

2010-07-21T12:16:00.000+10:00

Today, I did something just for myself.

The Bear was driving me crazy. His latest escapade was getting through the child-proof lid of a bottle of anti-histamine. Luckily he didn't drink any, but still. I know that ASD kids often have fine motor skill issues, so I've been trying to focus on the positive - ie that his fine motor skills are excellent. But still.

So when his lovely speech therapist rang to cancel due to illness, I was momentarily distraught. I'd been counting on that time to fill our morning. What on earth was I going to do now??

That's when it hit me. Daycare, known to us as Kindy. I made a frantic call to the Director, who fitted him in with no problem. Three hours of Mummy time. I stopped off at the shops and bought a pair of jeans which will have to be returned because I was over-optimistic about the size of my thighs, then came home, played on the computer for a bit, read a magazine and had a cup of tea. I have done some washing, but only because I felt like it.

I feel like a new woman. I feel like I can make it throught the rest of the day. I feel excited that I'll be picking the Bear up in 15 minutes. What do I NOT feel? Guilty. This was my time, and I'm worth it!

i just called to say i love you

2010-07-20T06:59:00.000+10:00

Just a very quick update, but there's more to come later.

Last week, I saw the Bear doing something that looked a lot like pretend play. Then I convinced myself that it couldn't possibly be. But this morning, he did it again, in front of me and Pacino.

He held out the palm of his hand, jabbed at it with the pointer finger of his other hand, making little "beep"noises at the same time, then held his hand up to his ear and said "Ye-yo"!!!

I can't begin to tell you how exciting that was, and how happy and hopeful it made us.

Anyway, must run - school lunches and breakfasts to make, and I suspect that the Bear has climbed onto the bench and is playing with the answering machine. Supervision much?

raindrops on roses...

2010-07-12T14:25:00.000+10:00

It's a cold and foggy Monday morning, and my children slept in. The Bear woke at 7.05am, and the Gig at 7.30am. A sleep-in is an extremely rare thing in my house, so I made the most of it...sort of. Pacino had to go to work (why, oh why, can the Bear never sleep in like this on weekends?) so I got up and had a cup of tea with him, then went back to bed for half an hour before the Bear woke. It felt so decadent to lie in bed at that hour on a Monday morning!

Which leads nicely into today's topic. More of the little things in life that make a day special, or keep you going, or give you a laugh when you most need it. So here, in no particular order, are ten little things that have brightened my day lately.

Taking the Gig clothes shopping so that she can spend her very hard-earned cash, and, what's more, liking what she chose!
Buying a new handbag (purse) that has everything I need in a bag, including lots of little inside pockets that I'm still exploring. Rearranging a new bag has to be one of life's greatest pleasures!
Reading a book that I would never have picked up if not for my on-line book club, and loving it. (It's The City and the City, by China Mieville, if you're interested)
Listening to the Bear sing a scale in almost perfect pitch. Not bad for a nearly three year old!
Walking into the kitchen to do the dishes and realising that the Gig has done them already, and very well too!
Savouring a glass of lovely port with Pacino at the end of a long day.
~~Sneaking away from my children to blog~~ Waiting till my children are happily amusing themselves and popping into the study to blog.
Watching Dr Who and fantasising that if I shout "Raggedy Man, I remember you!" the Dr will appear. (Not working thus far, sad to say.)
Having the Gig ask to have a friend over - she's been anti-social all holidays, so I was thrilled to oblige.
This boy, in this hat.

i'm bad, i'm bad, you know it, i'm bad

2010-07-05T15:11:00.000+10:00

It would appear that last time I was here, I made all sorts of rash promises about being a better blogger, not leaving all my lovely readers in the dark, committing to the blog, and so on. Promises, promises. I guess I am just über-slack. (But proud that, twenty years later, I remembered to use an umlaut on the u in über. Frau Finlayson, what was that C all about?)

So what's been happening on board my ship of fools lately?

Well, in no particular order, we bought a new car. It's a white wagon. Where has my cool gone? I love it and its capacious boot (trunk) which has ample room for my stroller, the dogs, and some luggage.

Because we are now a two car family, Pacino (and for Pacino, read ME!!) had to organise a park in the city. Holy Guacamole Batman, the City Council must be ski-ing in Aspen on what they charge to park a car! However, we found one that won't require us to sell one of our children in order to pay for it, so it's all good.

The Gig is on school holidays. Yay for not making school lunches. Yay for not waking a sleeping pre-adolescent! Yay for not having that sick, sinking feeling in my stomach as I wait in the car wondering how her day was, and if the mean girls were mean today.

Oh, and the Gig is nearly eleven. I know what you're thinking. How on earth, you're wondering, could Millie possibly have an eleven year old daughter? She's far too young, freshfaced and hip to be old enough for that! What? You weren't thinking that at all?

As for my little Bear, he's doing really well. He is getting a new word roughly once a fortnight, and appears to be keeping them so far. He has developed a massive case of Echolalia (repeating random words and noises with no sense of their meaning), which can be, depending on the circumstances and my mood, very funny, very depressing or very annoying. I try to focus on the fact that it's really very encouraging, as the mere forming of the words shows that the capacity for speech, in whatever form, is there.

He has also developed a few new ASD traits. This is probably the real reason I haven't been blogging lately. I just haven't felt ready to talk about it yet, but haven't been able to think of anything else to blog about. He has started hand-flapping, and also a funny little face-flicking thing that's very hard to describe, and his new obsession is unscrewing jars. Nothing, nothing, I tell you, is safe from his exploration. I seem to spend my days now running along behind him trying to clear the path of his destruction. And he's not a destructive child. He doesn't break things on purpose; it's more that he literally can't rest until he's explored what he needs to explore. I am beyond exhausted.

We are waiting desperately for the call to say he has a place at the ASD specific centre. I can't wait; he really needs it. I do too, for what it's worth.

Anyway, that's what we've been doing lately. I'll try to be a better bloggy-girl from now on (but a word of warning - I'll be away towards the end of this week visiting my sister who is about to ~~abandon me~~ move to England with her family.

Right, I have a whole lot of blog reading to catch up on - I'm looking forward to finding out what's been going on in your lives. See you later!

rock on

2010-06-17T10:10:00.000+10:00

Thanks so much to my friend Robin over at lolidots for giving me this fab award.

Think of 15 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. These are the albums that, no matter what they were thought of musically, shaped your world.

I have to say I'm looking forward to taking you all on this little trip down memory lane.

Human Frailty, by Hunters and Collectors, the greatest Australian pub-rock band ever. They sang Throw your arms around me, which is my all-time favourite song. Go on, click the link and listen!
Planet Waves, by Bob Dylan
Now that's what I call quite good, by The Housemartins
A Room With a View - Soundtrack
If this is Rock and Roll, I want my old job back, by The Sawdoctors
Talking with the Taxman about poetry, by Billy Bragg
Modern Times, by Bob Dylan
Back to Black, by Amy Winehouse. She's a wreck, but she can sing!
William Bloke, by Billy Bragg
The Internationale, by Billy Bragg
Fundamental as Anything, by Mental as Anything (another great Australian band from the 80s, although Pacino can't stand them)
Mermaid Avenue, by Billy Bragg and Wilco (lyrics by Woody Guthrie)
Local Hero Soundtrack, by Mark Knopfler
Spike, by Elvis Costello
Amadeus soundtrack (Mozart)

Billy Bragg is an English folk-rock singer who can take the credit for my very left-wing political stance.

That was really fun, and really hard! I'm sorry my taste is so obscure. And I'm sorry it took me so long to post this.

Thanks again, Robin!

slacker mcgee, that's me.

2010-06-16T12:55:00.001+10:00

I didn't mean to go so long without blogging, I really didn't. It's just that life has been pretty hectic lately. The Bear has stopped sleeping during the day. Although I still put him in his cot every day, the time he will spend playing in there is getting shorter and shorter. It's now down to about twenty minutes. And when he's awake, I need to be with him every second. If I'm not, he's climbing on the kitchen bench, climbing up to the TV and rocking it back and forth, climbing onto his chest of drawers and playing with his heater...in other words, climbing is his thing. And before you ask, I have child-proofed. My house is the most child-proof house I've ever been in! This is as good as it gets.

Anyway, enough with the whinging, and on to the good stuff. Well, I've been given an award by the perenially cool Robin over at Lolidots. She gave it to me about three hundred years ago, or so it seems, and I am going to share the love, I really am, but not today. I'm about halfway through, and I'm a bit stuck. But in the meantime, hop on over to Lolidots and see what Robin has to say - it's always a good read, and if you're lucky there'll be a photo of her hilarious and very cute kids.

On another note, the Gig and Pacino went to a training session for their favourite team, the South Sydney Rabbitohs, when they played here last weekend. They also went to the game, but let's draw a veil over that and move on quietly. It was a bit of a shellacking, I'm sorry to say. For those who are wondering, the Rabbitohs, or Bunnies, are a Rugby League team. Oh, Rugby, you're thinking. I've heard of that. Well, yes and no. There are two forms of the game, Rugby League and ~~the real one~~ Rugby Union. I was never, ever a League fan growing up, but since marrying Pacino, I've learnt that if you can't sulk them out of their obsession, you might as well join them. These days, although I wouldn't watch the Bunnies for my own amusement, when they're playing I am as involved as anyone. Except perhaps Pacino, who takes it very ...personally... when they lose. Which they do a fair bit.

I've written before about my children and their love for their comfort toys, but today I've got some sad news. Mousie, the Bear's partner in crime, is no longer with us. He's missing in action; we think he's at a park in our old hometown. The Bear has been very brave, and his good mate Ted has stepped into the role of Commander in Chief of the Cot, but it's still very depressing to think of Mousie alone by the swings (or wherever he may be). Goodbye, Mousie. We will miss you.

And now, here's a picture that explains why the Bear fully deserved the praise that was being lavished on him for "lovely eating..all those vegies!".

slow train coming

2010-06-08T16:10:00.001+10:00

I just wanted to drop by my cob-web-ridden blog and say Hi! I'm still alive! I've not really been in the mood for blogging or playing on the computer generally for the past few days. (What's wrong with me?) But, I'm in the middle of a long post that's taking me forever to write, so I promise there'll be more news very soon. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, just to keep you going, here's a photo that I looooove! The very first brother/sister cuddle. It seems like yesterday but it's nearly three years ago. Time flies by way too quickly.

random thoughts

2010-06-01T12:36:00.001+10:00

The Gig had a nightmare about caterpillars last night. What's that all about? She felt better after I told her to imagine them with the face of the one from Alice in Wonderland.

I can't remember the last time I slept all through the night. I'm so very, very tired.

This morning the Bear and I went to our friend's house for coffee and a play. Her little boy is a few months younger than the Bear. The Bear had so much fun flushing a different toilet. Oh, and there might have been a slide and a couple of toys and three extra kids to play with. He wouldn't know. There was a toilet that needed flushing.

My sister and her family are moving to England. I'm excited for them but sad for me. And regretful that we haven't seen enough of them lately.

I'm slowly getting my house organised. On Thursday when my MIL is here, I'm going to clean out my laundry. You know you're jealous.

I am desperate to have some time for reading. I belong to an online bookclub and I haven't read the monthly book for the past two months. And I'm still waiting for Amazon to deliver this month's. All I can concentrate on at the moment is magazines and chick lit that I've read before.

We're buying the Bear a bed soon. I'm sure that'll be the end of the daytime sleep. RIP.

And last but not least, dogs are excellent at homework.

smug pride or deep shame?

2010-05-28T14:16:00.000+10:00

I'm back, after a week long blogging hiatus. And what a week it's been! I've had both kids sick - the Bear with a middle ear infection in both ears, and the Gig with tonsillitis. She had four days off school, and has only gone back today. The Bear missed playgroup at his special school and speech therapy, but the Gig did, after much soul-searching on my part, get to go to Girl Guides last night, and she had a blast. She missed her guitar lesson, but you can't have everything.

Not only were the kids sick, but Pacino has lost his voice. He came home from work at 10am yesterday, as his job involves mainly dictating, immediately logged into his work server and worked from home for the rest of the day. Today I'm picking him up at 3pm. Pacino is the world's biggest workaholic, so this is huge. He's been with his current firm for over three years and hasn't used any of his sick/personal leave yet.

You'd think that with two sick kids, I'd have had an unproductive week, wouldn't you? Well, think again, my little friends! Not only have the Gig and I completely sorted out her room (6 bags of rubbish, 2 bags for her little cousin, 2 bags for my friend's DD, 2 bags of books for charity, and a big crate of books for the Bear), but I have sorted my linen cupboard.

I'm the anal type, I must admit. Anal, but lazy. My linen cupboard, as it looks now, is my dream. I keep going to look at it and purr, like a self-satisfied cat who has just polished off a bowl of cream. I have even (shhhh) been known to stroke the lovely, organised stacks of sheets.

After I had it all looking lovely (3 bags for charity and 1 bag of rubbish), I realised that something was missing. I knew where everything went, but how, I wondered, would anyone else?

The answer?

Labels. Lovely, organised-person labels.

So what's the verdict? Should I feel smugly proud, or deeply, abidingly ashamed?

flashback friday: a christening

2010-05-21T10:57:00.001+10:00

It's been a while since I've done a Flashback Friday.

The Bear's Christening was such a special day, complete with senile, possibly slightly sloshed stand-in priest, who, despite the Bear's three very masculine, traditional names, still thought he was a girl. Maybe it was the dress!

be careful what you wish for

2010-05-20T12:32:00.001+10:00

Yesterday, I sat down at my computer, all ready to blog. Nothing. Nada. Not a single thing of interest to say.

It's the kids' fault. They haven't done anything interesting lately.

And Pacino - what's he been doing? Work, and being man-sick. Better call the man-bulance. Bor-ing, people.

Me? I'm the mummy. I ferry these people to their interesting things. I can't be counted on for fascinating and hilarious anecdotes.

Come on, family, do something funny/entertaining/annoying. Give me some material here!

At that point, as I wiped the table down after lunch - told you I'm not the scintillating one - I suddenly realised that all was strangely, worryingly quiet on the Bear front.

Then I found him.

In my bathroom.

Being interesting.

With my brand new, not-terribly-cheap lipgloss.

And here, my friends, is my little monotony-breaker, channeling his inner drag queen.

As I said, be careful what you wish for.

but i haven't prepared a speech

2010-05-18T16:01:00.001+10:00

I'm very excited! I've just been given my first blogging award, The Versatile Blogger, by my new friend Amy at The Adventures of JAMC. If you haven't visited Amy's blog, make sure you pop over and say hello. Amy has two boys who are on the Autism Spectrum, and as they are a bit older than the Bear, I'm learning a lot from her. So thanks very much, Amy!

Right here, in this space, is meant to be a cute button that says "Versatile Blogger". Or, in my case, "Incompetent Blogger who is unable to upload (download? I'm never sure) said button to her blog". Feel free to give me lesson, anyone.

Ok, now that I've acknowledged Amy, the next thing is to tell you all seven things about myself. Hmmm, this should be good for my self esteem...

I love to read. I would happily spend my entire day reading, if only I had a staff of 10 (plus outdoor staff) to keep my house running in the oh-so-smooth manner to which it is accustomed. Or something. I especially love crime fiction, but not the gory stuff. But I'll read pretty much anything, from Jane Austen to Stieg Larsson.
I suffer from a terrible combination of extreme fussiness about the state of my house, and utter laziness. So, I'll moan and groan about how untidy/cluttered/messy/dirty/full-of-dog-hair my house is, but take ages to do anything about it.
I have a phobia of cane toads. If you don't know what they are, I envy you. They are wrong, disgusting, scary, hideous and completely gross. Oh, and they're poisonous. Particularly to dogs. I have two dogs, and Harlan, my old and allegedly sensible guy, is addicted to them. He's like Cheech and Chong, all rolled into one cute and fluffy little package. They'll kill him one day (the cane toads, not Cheech and Chong), but I'm sure he'll think the trip was worth it.
I am addicted to tea. But I'm not a tea snob. Sure, I love a freshly brewed pot of real, leaf tea, but I'm happy with a teabag of Irish Breakfast. And I hate herbal teas. What's the hippy-dippy point to them? I drink coffee when I'm out, because cafes only ever have English Breakfast (only for the weak) or Earl Grey (only for those without tastebuds). But at home, it's a good strong mug of ~~China Black~~ Irish Breakfast all the way.
I love the movie The Sure Thing, starring John Cusack. Extra points if you can spot the quote above. But my favourite movie of all time is Life is Beautiful, in the original Italian, which ~~I understand perfectly because of my fluent and colloquial Italian~~ has good subtitles which are easy to read.
I have two half degrees, one in Education and one in English Literature. Sadly, two halves don't make a whole, so I've told Pacino, who has two full degrees, that he has to let me have one because I'm easily as smart as he is, it's just that my brain is cluttered with all that extra female-mummy-multitasking stuff, so I forget things.
I am utterly unable to write anything of length without including several run-on sentences. Yet, hypocritically, I have a lovely time noticing and being outraged by the bad grammar of others. Especially the wandering apostrophe. Hate it, hate it, hate it!

And now, for my next trick, I would like to pass this award on to ten bloggers whom I have recently discovered and love to bits.

My good friend The Missus over at Rev and the Missus. The Missus' blog is not exactly a new discovery, but I'm cheating a bit. Sue me. Her tales of life with Wiggle Man and the Rev will have you laughing, feeling inexplicably hungry, a bit grossed out if it's a spider post, but most of all feeling like you're having a chat with a good friend. And isn't that what blogging's all about?
Anna, my new friend, at Loving Life as a Mama and Wife. Anna has two gorgeous children. Her posts are full of love for her kids and joy in her life. And she's great at leaving comments! Go on over and check out how ridiculously young Anna looks to be the Mama of two!
Jess, at Keep it Together, takes some of the best photos I've seen. She also has a son with an ASD, and her posts about this have taught me heaps. I really enjoy reading Jess's blog.
Over at The Casa, Joanna talks about her incredibly cute twin girls. I'm in complete awe of mums of multiples. Joanna's blog is funny and brightens my day every time I read it.
I think we pretty much all know S.I.F., don't we? She writes Single Infertile Female, and has a fantastic community to boot. S.I.F. is an amazingly talented writer who makes me jealous of her talent every day. Her blog will make you laugh and cry, and also talk about words you never thought you'd mention. Smegma, anyone?
One of my favourite blogs is Musings on the Move, by The Writer. She and her husband and their three boys live in Brazil. The Writer's blog is half travelogue, half family blog, and all great.
The hilarious Mama M writes My Little life. Reading her blog makes me feel like I'm sitting down for a cuppa with a friend who happens to be the funniest person in the world. I'm just sayin'.
Robin, over at Lolidots, is who I would like to be if I ever got really, really cool. Her kids are adorable, and funny, and she is so talented and creative.
Amanda is my good friend over at Among the Mess. She, the Missus and I have been in the same online mother's group for over three years now! She has gorgeous kids, some cows, and a passion for cloth nappies. Diapers. Again with learning the Australian English, people! Check out her Friday Fluff posts for more about cloth diapering.
Last but certainly not least is Ashley, mother of three cutie-pie girls (great place for a tiny baby fix) over at Provehito in Altum. I enjoy reading Ashley's blog and especially love drooling over that baby girl!

So that's it from me, folks, and I'm wacked! This post took me forever to write, and now I need a cup of tea and a good lie down to recover.

Please, please check out all these great blogs, and share the love!

in the wee small hours of the morning

2010-05-14T13:08:00.001+10:00

Last night was really, really cold. Granted, I live in the sub-tropics, so my cold may very well not be your cold. But our house is not designed for winter (actually, it's not designed for summer either, but that's another, more whingy post), and it was icy in all our bedrooms. We haven't got the heaters out yet; that's my job for today. It's been a really long, hot, wet summer, and this took us all by surprise. The Bear was rugged up as snug as a bug in a rug, and his windows were closed. I thought he'd be ok, but I was wrong.

At about 2.30 he woke up crying. I went into his room and the egg-night-light-thermometer-thingy was blue. Blue for brrrrrr, naturally. It was 13.8C in his room. If you hang on a minute, I'll convert that in my head because I'm very clever. Ok, difficult maths done now, it's 56.84F. I think that's a wee bit chilly, especially for a small boy who doesn't keep the blankets on. So I picked him up for a quick cuddle, gave him back his dummy (pacifier...you guys need to learn Australian English!), and enjoyed the soft, warm weight of him as he snuggled in to me. Then I popped him back in to his cot, pulled his blanket up and went out again. He went straight back to sleep.

Lying in bed, unable to get back to sleep, I thought about how lucky we are that he's a good sleeper - that both our kids are good sleepers. It's not often that I get to have these quiet, snuggly middle of the night times with my kids. If it happened more often, I think it'd drive me round the twist. But because it's rare, I enjoy it.

3.15am, still not asleep, and I heard the Gig's door open. This is especially unusual, because that girl could sleep through a cyclone, an earthquake, a fire alarm, a mosquito whining and a dog barking, all at once. My poor little baby girl was feeling sick. So she climbed into bed with us and I got to have my second warm cuddle of the night. She burrowed her way down the bed until only her nose was poking out, and stayed there for about ten minutes, before she announced that Pacino's snoring was "too much, Mum. How do you stand it?" and went back to her own bed.

Finally I went back to sleep, until the Bear got cold again at 5.15. I tried to ignore him, but then I felt too mean. If I was cold, in bed with Pacino (although he got up about 30 seconds later...bloody workaholic), how cold must my baby boy be? So I got up and brought him into bed with me. We lay there for a while, practising our gentle hands on each other's faces, singing songs and snuggling, until the sound of Pacino's shower sang its siren song to the Bear. At which point I got up for good, took the Bear out to the kitchen and made a cup of tea.

I love my sleep. Some days, I feel like I'm marking time till I can get back between the sheets. I can never get enough sleep, and I'm usually very, very cranky if' I'm woken. But last night some kind of Winter Wonderland must have cast a spell over my house. I was with my babies in the middle of the night, and I loved it.

PS - the Gig was fine this morning :)

do you see what i see?

2010-05-12T12:51:00.000+10:00

Well, yes, it's the Bear, with a Bob the Builder toy, and a bottle of water.

But do you really see it?

Bob is having a drink of water. He must be thirsty.

It's pretend play, folks, and it made my day!

breakfast of champions

2010-05-11T13:37:00.002+10:00

What's that you've got there, Mum?

Porridge, you say?

Just the same as mine, is it?

Same same, in fact?

Mummy's porridge?

Not the Bear's porridge?

I think it might taste better than my porridge, Mummy.

No, it's not the same, actually, Mummy.

It's in your bowl, obviously. That's what makes it taste so good.

Can you move over, Mummy?

It's just that I don't have much room here.

You take up nearly all of the chair, so how do you expect me to stand behind you?

What? You'd really rather I didn't stand behind you?

You'd prefer me to return to my own chair and eat my own breakfast?

Like that's ever going to happen.

jumping for joy

2010-05-07T18:58:00.000+10:00

Pacino and I have pretty amazing families.

When the Bear was diagnosed, they were all desperate to help. Unfortunately, they almost all live in different cities; one is even on the other side of the world. The ones who live in our city have full-time jobs and families of their own. And I have to admit that Pacino and I are not the easiest people in the world to help. We don't ask for help, and we usually brush away offers of assistance. Pride, I tell you. It's not a good thing. We're working on it.

So the grandparents on both sides put their heads together and came up with the idea of buying play equipment for both of our kids. My wonderful sister T (hiya, T!) emailed the rest of the families, who were apparently jumping over themselves to contribute.

They thought long and hard about the Bear's developmental needs, and the Gig's social needs and came up with a trampoline and some playhouse/climbing equipment. It's beyond fabulous and we are so very, very grateful.

Tell me, have you ever seen happier looking children?

good news/bad news

2010-05-06T12:54:00.001+10:00

I'm not being a tease, I'm really not. But I can't find the USB for my phone, and the Bear is asleep so I can't take more photos on my camera, so...the surprise will have to wait till tomorrow now. Sorry!

But in the meantime, it's a lovely not-really-Wednesday here, so that means I get to share all my news (apart from the surprise, of course). For the best good and bad news, head over to http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ and see what's been happening in her world lately.

Good news? I have a wonderful and generous family, both mine and my in-laws
Bad news? I'm not telling you what they've done for us till tomorrow!
Good news? It's so worth the wait

Good news? The Gig has had a great week at school
Bad news? None! It's all good

Bad news? I'm having a bad hair day
Good news? I'm going out for coffee with a new friend
Better news? My MIL is on her way to look after the Bear

That's it for now, she's waiting at the door ;)

See you all tomorrow!

a clue

2010-05-05T16:52:00.000+10:00

My delivery came today. Any idea what it is?

waiting, waiting

2010-05-05T12:38:00.000+10:00

I'm waiting for a delivery.

It's late.

It was meant to be here yesterday, and now it's lunchtime today, and still, no delivery.

I want it to come.

I want to blog about it.

I want to shout out about how wonderful a whole lot of people are.

Come on, delivery, WHERE ARE YOU?

Any guesses as to what it is that I'm waiting for? Anyone?

a plan and some progress

2010-05-04T13:47:00.000+10:00

After weeks of trying to sort out all of the different therapies available for the Bear, we think we have decided what we're doing.

The plan, at this stage, is to continue with speech therapy, and to send him part time (five day fortnight; ie two days one week and three the next) to an autism specific centre that caters for 2 1/2 - 5 year olds. It's about 20 minutes from home. We need to make an appointment to see the centre and meet the staff, but it seems the way to go. The centre (it's one of about half a dozen in the state) has glowing reports from everyone who has any contact with it. In fact, I've not heard a single bad report. It won't be cheap, but you do what you have to do, don't you?

I'll let you know how we get on when we visit the centre.

In other news, the Bear is really coming on. For months Pacino has been trying to get the Bear to wave goodbye to him in the mornings. Last week he finally did it! And this morning, he actually said "Bye" as he waved. We were beyond excited.

And this morning, while playing with a toy car, he said "car"! Again, this is really exciting. He's been saying Car (pronounced Har) for a while, but only in relation to the big silver thing in the garage that we ride in. Today, he generalised his knowledge - a car can be big, and we can travel in it, or it can be tiny and I can play with it.

A third milestone was that this morning, for the first time, he rolled some playdough with his hands. Granted, he still took quite a few big bites and ate a lot (I'm so looking forward to tomorrow's nappy), but he also played with it appropriately.

So lots of very significant things are happening with our little Bear, and we are over the moon. He's come a long way in a relatively short time. I can't wait to see how this new program benefits him.

good news/bad news

2010-04-29T12:58:00.000+10:00

Hello, Roger.

Whoops, sorry, thought I was in The Great Escape for a minute there.

Well, anyway, hello my lovely readers! It's hard to believe, but it's Northern Hemisphere Wednesday (aka Thursday in the Land Down Under) already. Which must mean that it's time to share my news, both the good and the bad. The ugly, I'll leave for another day. The original and best Good and Bad news is of course, over at my lovely friend The Missus' blog, http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ , so after you've been completely over-awed by my a) exciting life and b) meticulously crafted writing, head on over and check out The Missus' news.

Good news? I have my stroller back
Bad news? It smells unfriendly

Good news? The Bear had his first ride on a shopping centre ride today
Bad news? It finished
Good news? The old forearm across the stomach trick still works for getting a toddler into a stroller
Bad news? The screaming split my eardrums
Good news? The screaming cleared my sinuses

Good news? Pacino and I have our appointment with our Autism Advisor tomorrow
Bad news? I have mega amounts of driving to get there
Good news? They don't need us to take the Bear

Good news? The big mean bully got into trouble at school
Bad news? None. None at all
Good news? The Gig's response when I asked how her day was? "Good!" It's been a long time...

I'd love to share more news with you, but I left my short-term memory somewhere, and now I don't know what else happened this week.

Hope you news was all good this week!

have stroller, will travel

2010-04-27T14:39:00.000+10:00

Hi, my name is Millie, and I'm addicted to my stroller.

I have reached the point where I can't do without it. It's constantly in my thoughts (usually because I'm remembering that I still haven't cleaned out the crumbs and squished banana from the cracks), and I can't go anywhere without it.

My son is over two and a half years old; in fact, I'm just about at the point of saying he's nearly three. And yet, at this ripe old age, he is yet to visit the shops unfettered, free to ~~walk demurely by his mother's side~~ run like a lunatic through the shops out onto the busy road. I'm just not brave enough to face it. Ok, he's a runner, and a sensory seeker, and has no sense of danger, but still...shouldn't I at least attempt to let him walk? If not now, then when? Will he be fifteen and still lolling about in a stroller, all because I'm too chicken to let him out?

Partly, it's a fitness thing. This is embarrassing, but at two years old (nearly almost three), he can outrun me. And man, can he corner! To misquote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, this kid corners like he's on rails! My arthriticky old knees and ankles just can't cope, not to mention my poor, overworked lungs which practically burst whenever the Bear puts on a burst of speed. I'm the first to admit that I'm not the fittest person around, but I've never been outrun by a two year old before!

And partly, it's a "public perception" thing. In the stroller, he's still, and I'm in control. Out of it, he's the boss and I'm rubbling the bite marks on my arm from when I tried to hold him back. Or he's lying on the ground, dislocating his shoulder (not really) in the attempt to get away and run, run like the wind.

And partly, it's convenience. Where else am I supposed to put the shopping bags, other than hanging somewhat dangerously from the back of the stroller (don't tell me you've never done that)? I'm not meant to carry them, am I? And chase the Bear? What is this, Boot Camp?

I thought about my stroller a lot this weekend, mainly because I left it at daycare last week, so I've been without it. We borrowed my SIL's yesterday, and even though it's our old one (with the newborn bassinet bit, unlike our umbrella stroller) I hated it with a passion. It was big, unwieldy and awkward. So very, very awkward. It took me three goes to get into the lift at Borders, and I still managed to bruise a total stranger's shins. I'd also forgotten how to collapse it, and I think we've all been there, haven't we, girls. Only usually, it's with a two week old baby and people give us kind, sympathetic looks. When your kid is two (nearly almost three), people just think that really, you should have your crap together by now.

So here's to my stroller, love of my life. Thank you for the many hours you have spent restraining the Bear and carting my shopping around. Thanks for never complaining when I hang bags of dog poo from your handles. Thanks for being so easy to collapse and to...what's the opposite of collapse? Thanks for being a very cool shade of lime green and black, to help me in my quest to be the world's coolest Mummy. Thanks for putting up with being cleaned so infrequently.

I'm picking you up from daycare this afternoon, stroller. I'm sorry I forgot you, left you to fret for an entire long weekend that I was never coming back.

Let's never be apart again.

the curious incident of the dog in the night

2010-04-23T12:05:00.000+10:00

This dog, unlike the one that Sherlock Holmes referred to, did bark in the night. He barked, and barked, and barked.

This is unusual for either of our dogs, but especially for Harlan, who's the older, sensible one. Our dogs sleep in the laundry, and we have a laundry chute (which always reminds me of Sheila the Great, by Judy Blume), so I yelled down to chute for Harlan to "~~SHUT UP~~ please be quiet dear sweet Harlan".

It took a while, but he did stop barking. For about 5 minutes. So I opened the chute again, ready to call encouraging comments down to him. And that's when it hit me. The smell. The stench. The awful, overwhelming, overpowering reek of a good little dog with a bad tummy who had been trying for over an hour to let us know that he needed to go out, NOW! So I raced downstairs, opened the door (thereby smearing poo all over the floor, as the door opens inwards), and let him outside. He was very grateful, to say the least. Jasper the Insane thought a 2am frolic outside was great! Sad to say, he displayed very little empathy for his poor, ill mate.

So far, so gross. But then, while I was feeling lazy (and tired) and would happily have cleaned up in the morning, Harlan refused to go back into the laundry. So, at 2am, I cleaned up dog-poo, of the ...er...messy variety.

Luckily, Harlan seems ok this morning. Rest assured we'll be keeping a close eye on him. For the record, when I have a moan about my un-housetrained dog, it's not this good boy, it's Jasper the Insane.

Me? Tired, and most of all guilty. Poor little H-Bomb.

And, because I couldn't insert photos the other day for some reason, here is the Gig with Jasper the Insane and Only Periodically Housetrained.

good news/bad news

2010-04-22T10:05:00.000+10:00

Here we are again - I can't believe how quickly the week has gone. To join in the good news/bad news madness, hop on over to my friend the Missus over at http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ and link up!

Good news? My shoulder is slowly getting better
Bad news? I still need a lot more physio
Good news? You should see Rob the hottie physiotherapist!

Good news? I'm meeting my brother and SIL for lunch
Bad news? Right at the Bear's sleep time

Good news? My son can thread cotton reels like a champ!
Bad news? We now have cotton reels all through our house
Good news? They're very bright, and should, theoretically, be easy to see and not trip over
Bad news? I said "theoretically"

Good news? My crazy dogs, the Bear and I just went for a walk
Bad news? They are the world's most stupid, insane-barking, embarrassing dogs
Good news? I love them anyway

Good news? My kids' immune systems are getting stronger by the minute
Bad news? It's because my house is an un-hygienic tip!
Good news? I don't really care

That's me done for the week - head over to the Missus for the original good/bad news!

funny girl

2010-04-21T13:08:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I was thinking about all the funny things my daughter has said over the years, and they really made me laugh. So, in the spirit of sharing, here are a few of them!

At 2 years old, I told the Gig that she was "making Mummy very sad". Only to be eyed up and down, and asked "Where are your tears then?".
This time she was 3, and not feeling well. I put my hand on her forehead and said, in time-honoured Mummy fashion, "Cool as a cucumber". Two minutes later, she put her hand on my forehead. "Cold as a pumpkin, Mummy."
When picking up my 4 year old nephew L from his last day at daycare as my sister and her family were moving to another city, I told L to say, "bye Eastville*!". L repeated, "Bye Eastville". From the seat next to him, six year old Gig said "See you in Hell, Eastville!".
At 4, on a plane, reading the safety card, (breathlessly) "It's true! They do have slides!". Yep, honey, and with any luck we won't be needing one!
Fairly recently, having heard her dad use the expression "gorillas" for thousands of dollars, she looked at her school fees and said "Whoa! That's a lot of gorillas!". Sadly, she was right.

I wanted to include a photo of my angelic daughter, but I'm stuggling with uploading one. I have no idea why it won't work, but I refuse to be frustrated so I'm giving up. Sorry. Anyway, I hope my funny girl made you laugh!

flotsam and jetsom, bits and pieces, this and that

2010-04-20T13:00:00.001+10:00

Ok, so my rage is ebbing away, slowly being replaced by acceptance. I'm surprised that the diagnosis affected me so much, because it wasn't like we weren't expecting it. I think what really got to me was having to talk other people through their own feelings about it, when all I got from anyone was "He's fine, look at so-and-so", or "All two year olds do that, stop worrying", or my all-time favourite "You need to take him to the park more". For the record, we're at the park a lot! So now I feel a bit resentful that no one listened to me when I was worried, but now I have to be the one to comfort them after my concerns were proven valid. Anyway, life goes on.

The Bear is doing brilliantly! Yesterday at playgroup he put two words together ("More bubbles"). That is the exact phrase we have been working on for three months, so it was very exciting and rewarding to hear him say it. He also followed two sets of one-step verbal instructions yesterday. Yay for increasing receptive language!

I've learnt a couple of things already. One is that I prefer to descibe his condition as "Bear has Autism", rather than "Bear is Autistic". (No, Bear is Bear, and he has autism.) First and foremost, he is a beautiful, funny, affectionate little boy who loves the Wiggles and reading Spot books. Oh, and he has autism. The other thing I've learnt is how little the PDD-NOS label means, and how seldom we use it any more. For one thing, no one knows what it is!
Believe it or not, we have a life outside of therapy! This morning, the Bear and I met his auntie and baby cousin at the park. We had a great time (sorry, no pics, forgot the camera and didn't have a chance to take any anyway) and can't wait to go back. Next time, we'll go to a park with a fenced off play area ;-).

The Gig is looking forward to her Guide (Girl scouts) camp in a couple of weeks. Next term, they're doing outdoor camping, and she really can't wait for that. She is also giving a speech to her class about autism, as next Friday is Dress Differently for Autism Day, and she wants all her class to join in and help raise money. I'm beyond thrilled about this, as only a couple of weeks ago she said she was embarrassed that the Bear can't speak, and embarrassed that he has autism, and she didn't want any of her friends to know.

And Pacino has moved offices, and now has a larger office with a view of the river. It's amazing how much that's been affecting his mood, and how relaxed he was when I picked him up last night.

So what about me? Well, I finally got my hair done, after four months (my regrowth was lovely), and I've been to the physio for my shoulder. It hurt, and I'll have to go back lots, but at least I'm doing something about it.

Right, well you're all caught up now, and there's silence from the Bear's room. Hopefully I wore him out at the park this morning and he'll sleep...wish me luck.

rage, rage against the dying of the light

2010-04-16T20:13:00.000+10:00

I am raging. Raging. I am angry. I am so very, very angry.

It'll pass, and it's better then self-pity.

But for now?

Rage.

good news/bad news

2010-04-15T12:22:00.000+10:00

Here we are again on another lovely ~~Thursday~~ Wednesday. You know, it'd be really helpful if someone could have a chat to the good folk at Greenwich, and whatever the US equivalent is, and ask them to work out a way that it could be the same day at the same time in Australia and America. It's make good/bad news much easier! Any volunteers?

Good news? I'm having physio for my sore-for-seven-months shoulder this afternoon
Bad news? It'll hurt, and I'm a big sook
Good news? It's time to myself

Bad news? The in-laws are here
Good news? It's because they're here that I can go to physio
Bad news? I made my MIL cry
Good news? I think she finally understood the frustration of knowing my child had autism for 6 months, and being ignored and/or belittled for my worries until diagnosis day

Good news? The Easter chocolate is finished
Bad news? Der, see above
Good news? Chocolate is my year-round friend
Bad news? I have none in the house

Good news? It's my puppy's first birthday today
Bad news? He's still not reliably house-trained
Good news? I haven't killed him yet

Good news? The weather is finally cooling down
Bad news? Nup, none. Bring on winter!

That's about it from me, but do head on over to my fab friend The Missus, at http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ to check out the original and best Good and Bad News - and while you're there, link up and join in the fun!

i'm back, and i have news

2010-04-14T12:19:00.001+10:00

So sorry about the complete absence of blogging over the past couple of weeks. There's a couple of reasons - firstly, I was spending lots of lovely time with my children, secondly, I've been deliberately trying to break my very bad internet-all-the-time habit, and thirdly, I wanted to wait until I could share this news. It's been consuming most of my waking thoughts lately, and a few of my sleeping ones as well. But now, finally, we have...a...DIAGNOSIS!!!!!!!!

The Bear has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder - Not otherwise specified), which is an Austism Spectrum Disorder. Essentially, it's mild autism. Dr Wonderful, the paediatrician, was full of hope and support and encouragement. The Bear is now eligible for some excellent services (and the funding to go with them), and we have every hope that his symptoms will improve. He had a lovely time in Dr Wonderful's surgery yesterday, checking that all those pesky cupboard doors were working (they were), and that the taps were gushing water consistently (they were), and that the wheels on the cars were turning as they should (they were). He was somewhat concerned, though, that the Little People Bus wouldn't sing its oh-so-irritating song like ours at home does (note to self - lose batteries or lose mind), but when he discovered that Dr Wonderful's computer clearly needed servicing by the Bear, he was happy again. By the way, I'm quite pleased that he wasn't the child who wiped all of the good Dr's case notes by pressing buttons...there but for the grace of God...

He gave the Dr a beautiful high-5 on the way out, and made lovely eye-contact with him, which was great to see.

So how do I feel? I'm not sure, actually.

We were expecting this diagnosis, so I'm not shocked. It's still a big adjustment, though, and I think it'll take time to sink in. For the moment, I am so completely overwhelmed by the paperwork involved that I can't really think of anything else.

Oh, by the way, we asked about the initial thoughts that the Bear had verbal dyspraxia - highly unlikely. Apparently dyspraxic children have normal receptive speech, whereas Bear's is delayed. Also, his stimming has been increasing, which is a trait of ASD rather than dyspraxia. It's academic, really, as he'll need the same, if not more, therapy anyway.

One more thing - I'm very new to all of this, so if you are ahead of me on this pathway, feel free to let me know if you think I might have misunderstood anything the Paediatrician or therapists have said.

Over and out!

good news/bad news

2010-04-01T15:19:00.000+10:00

I'm a bit late this week with my good and bad news. It's been a hectic ~~Thursday~~ Wednesday here, what with the Gig's school holidays starting and the Bear's OT. But better late than never. If you'd like to join in (and if not, why not?) with the good news/bad news fun, head on over to my good pal The Missus (and check out her adorable little guy at the same time) at http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ .

Good news? The Gig's on holidays!
Bad news? 10 days of thinking up entertainment plans for 2 children of very different ages
Good news? Both my chickens are home with their Mummy for 10 days :)

Good news? I just found my favourite brand of nappies (diapers for my American friends) which we used in Europe and I looooved, at the supermarket - they are finally available here!
Bad news? That's how tragic my life is, that nappies is good news
Good news? They were on sale, too

Bad news? OT was a disaster this morning
Good news? The Bear's having a break for 2 weeks over the holidays
Bad news? None, really :)

Good news? We have Hot Cross Buns for Good Friday, and lots of Fish
Bad news? That Easter Bunny better get a move on with ~~his~~ her shopping!

Well, that sums up my week of news - I'm taking a bloggy-break until the long weekend is over.

Happy Easter everyone!

my girl

2010-03-31T12:41:00.000+10:00

This girl is amazing. She's strong, intelligent, kind, loving, caring, funny, artistic, creative, musical, compassionate, friendly and cheeky. Oh, and did I mention that she's incredibly beautiful?

She loves Selena Gomez, Camp Rock, Twilight, Harry Potter, Dr Who and so much more.

She takes great care of her dogs.

She adores her little brother. He is so lucky to have her for a big sister, always watching his back and protecting him. It's not easy to be the sibling of a special needs child, but this gorgeous girl displays such love and understanding that it humbles us every day.

She's our Gig, and we love her so very, very much.

smarter than the average bear

2010-03-30T14:11:00.001+10:00

It's been a while since I posted about the Bear and his speech issues. Which is odd, as the reason that I started this blog in the first place was to be able to process some of the thoughts and emotions that his journey raises.

So let me tell you how he's going. Well, he's doing very well with repeating words. He now repeats about 50 words, including "day-ya" (shower), "dow-dare" (downstairs - said with force, to the dog), "dad-da" (no, not Daddy, but Jasper the dog), "nin-ny" (kindy) and "dee" (afternoon tea). If he wants something, and we ask him to use his words, he will say "more". Unfortunately, if he hasn't had "some" of whatever he wants in the recent past, interpreting "more" can be difficult, to say the least. If he wants assistance, he is learning (with prompting) to say "eh" (help). And when he wants a cuddle, he needs to say "uh" (up) before we will pick him up.

He is yet to initiate any words other than "har", which means car. "Har" seems to mean, "Mummy, I'm a bit bored with you. Let's go and get Daddy and the Gig."

My little Bear is also doing very well with his Occupational Therapy. He has some motor planning problems (probably motor dyspraxia), and we are working on getting him able to draw descending vertical lines at the moment. We are also working on sequencing activities, using flash cards to tell him what's coming next. This is going well. He likes knowing what's next, but isn't quite so keen on relinquishing control!

The third therapy he is receiving is a Playgroup attached to a Special Needs Early Childhood Unit. We've only been twice, and each time he has done some spectacular door work. The second time, his door work wasn't nearly as frenzied or desperate as the first time, so hopefully it will ease as time goes by.

In the meantime, here's what he's really good at - problem solving!

down and out

2010-03-28T20:38:00.006+10:00

I was recently asked to reveal my secret. How, I was asked, do I manage to look so young, fresh-faced and utterly gorgeous in every photo?

What? That's not how it happened? Are you saying that, in truth, there was a thread about profile pics over in SIF's fab community and I gratuitously showed off that I have no double chin in my profile pic? (Trust me, I have one - or even two -in real life.)

Is that what happened? Really? But what about my little fantasy that I'm being asked to share beauty secrets? Ohhhhh, I get it...fantasy! Right.

Oh well, because I'm nice, I'll share my no-double-chin secret with you.

Two words. Down, and Out. But the other way round. Out, and Down.

When you're posing for a photo, and pose you must, my friends, because face it, no one's getting any younger here, all you need to do is stick your chin out, then down. Your neck will hurt and you'll look like a turtle, but beauty is pain, my friends, beauty is pain. As for the turtle thing, I'm not sure about you, but I'd prefer to look like a turtle than look double-chinny.

And because I'm extra nice, up the top are some photos to prove my point. The top one is, obviously, the after shot. (They weren't meant to be up the top; they were meant to be down here, but I can't work out how to shift them around. Also, the before shot was clearly meant to be ...er...before the after shot. Pointers gratefully accepted!!)

Yes, it's true, I'm going public with a non-down-and-out photo. I must really love you guys!

flashback friday: hello baby

2010-03-26T12:13:00.003+10:00

Gorgeous from the start.

good news/bad news

2010-03-25T12:05:00.003+10:00

Yep, folks, it's Fake Wednesday again, which means it's time to join The Missus in all the fun of Good News/Bad News. If you'd like to join in, head over to http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com and link up!

So here's my news for the week -

Good news? The Bear responded really well to his OT this morning
Bad news? He had one tantrum which resulted in a fat lip for me when he threw his head back
Good news? I'm still pretty ;)

Good news? It's nearly school holidays
Bad news? The Easter Bunny is very disorganised
Good news? Still plenty of time to shop
Bad news? Still plenty of time to eat Easter Eggs

Good news? The Gig has finally finished her reading assignment
Bad news? It took her soooo loooong
Good news? She did a great job

Good news? Pacino (remember him? used to be called MOTH?) is taking time off over Easter
Bad news? He's not taking all of the school holidays
Good news? We still have 6 days together as a family

Good news? I'm going out to breakfast with the girls tomorrow after we drop our kids off
Bad news? I'm already thinking about bacon and eggs. Not to mention mushrooms, tomatos, haloumi cheese and really good coffee...

Good news? The Bear is in bed so I can't throw him in the car and go through the McDonald's drive through
Bad news? Now I'm cranky because I want Maccas

And that's my news for the week!

when you're this cute...

2010-03-24T12:12:00.001+10:00

You can raid my pantry any time.

a day at the zoo

2010-03-22T13:12:00.006+10:00

We went to the zoo yesterday. It was a cloudy, humid day, with rain threatening from morning till afternoon. But it didn't spoil our fun.

We fed Kangaroos,

and miniature horses,
and cuddled guinea pigs.

Because after all, that's what going to the zoo is all about. Spending some time up close and personal with the animals. We didn't cuddle the koalas, because the queue was really long and, well, we've done that before.

Yesterday really illustrated to us how very different our two children are.

One communed with the animals.

The other, meanwhile, had fun with a stick and some dirt.

flashback friday: pop art family

2010-03-18T21:04:00.007+10:00

We had a brilliant day at the Warhol exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art a couple of yers ago. The Bear was about 5 or 6 months old (why do I never date photos?), so the Gig would have been nearly 9.

We try to go to a few exhibitions every year, and this was one of the Gig's favourites. Notice my little button-pushing baby, even then trying to reach a button to push. Some things never change, they just turn into developmental issues ;)

good news/bad news

2010-03-18T13:22:00.004+10:00

Well, it's Wednesday (in the US, here in Aus, it's Thursday, and as my good friend The Missus lives in the US, and I'm linking to her fab blog carnival thingy, let's just pretend, ok?)

So where were we? Oh yes, it's pretend Wednesday.

Good news: The Bear had OT this morning
Bad news: I had to drive across the city to get there
Good news: It was rescheduled so I got to avoid peak hour traffic
Bad news: The Bear was deeply hideous throughout the session
Good news: His therapist got to see what I've been dealing with this week

Good news: I had a healthy lunch
Bad news: I had far too much of it
Good news: I found chocolate sprinkles at the back of my pantry
Bad news: I ate them

Good news: The weather is finally cooling down
Bad news: A cyclone is on its way
Good news: Alarmist news reports notwithstanding, it won't come anywhere near us
Bad news: There's no bad news about that, you drama queen!

Good news: No bills in the mail today
Bad news: No cheques either

Good news: Most of the girls are being nice to the Gig again
Bad news: One is still ignoring her
Good news: She has learnt a lot from this experience
Bad news: She had the experience

Good news: The Bear is asleep for once!
Bad news: This means he won't sleep during the day for another few weeks
Good news: He's asleep NOW!

And that about sums it up. If you'd like to join in the good news/bad news fun, head on over to http://revandthemissus.blogspot.com/ and link up! (I say that so confidently, like I have any idea how to do it myself...)

go-go-gadget-extender-arms

2010-03-16T09:53:00.003+10:00

We went to the Emergency Department of our local hospital last night.

It was the Bear's fault.

He drank my perfume.

Yes, that's right, he drank my perfume.

I mean, really, perfume? It can't taste good, surely? Once we ascertained that he was ok, there were lots of jokes from the nurses about how his poo is going to smell today. Sweet, I assume. Sweet like...er...perfume.

What I really want to know his how on earth he reached it? It was on the back of my chest of drawers, with the waste-paper bin (don't ask, I have a 2 year old) in front of it. He is too short, or so I thought, to possibly reach it. And the drawers weren't pulled out. I'm sorry, but no 2 year old is going to carefully push the drawers back in to hide the evidence of his crime. He's not Machiavelli, for goodness sake.

But anyway, he did it. And I've just this second worked out how.

He's not really, or rather, not just the Bear.

By day, he is a mild-mannered (yeah right) toddler boy.

By the-five-minutes-Mummy-had-her-back-turned, he is...

Dum-da-dum-da-dum, Inspector Gadget, dum-da-dum-da-dum whoo-hoo whoo-hoo

I'm sorry Bear, but your secret is out.

random thoughts

2010-03-15T12:39:00.004+10:00

My dogs have fleas. Hopefully not for too much longer, since I finally bit the bullet and bought the $87 tablets. I tell you, these dogs are costing us more than the kids!

There is the sweet sound of silence coming from the Bear's room. Dare I hope that it's because he's ...shhhhh...asleep?

The Gig is at school. Hopefully not being teased, ignored, excluded, picked on, or laughed at by the group of girls who have been making her life a misery for the past 3 weeks.

I'm not doing a lot. Blogging, washing, ironing, sweeping the floor, playing with the Bear, doing his speech therapy exercises, drinking tea, eating more lunch than I needed, or even wanted (I'm greedy like that).

And the MOTH? He is no more.

Fear not, dear readers, he is still very much in the picture, but as of last night, he is no longer known as the MOTH. He says it's a stupid name, and he wants to be called something cool. So, from now on, in bloggy-land at least, he will be known as...

Pacino

As in Al.

flashback friday: could you be the most beautiful girl in the world?

2010-03-12T12:59:00.004+10:00

The Gig, aged 7 and a half (nearly). Would you believe this photo wasn't posed? We were on our way to a work Christmas party and I said, "Hey, Gig, turn around", and this was the result. How beautiful is she?

And this was about 9 months later, just before her baby brother was born. We had such a great day watching her aunty sing in a performance, then ice-creams for all. It was still winter, just. Sometimes I love the sub-tropics.

best behaviour

2010-03-08T13:02:00.004+10:00

This morning, the Bear and I went for an interview at his new kindy. It's part of a local special school, and his application had to go to panel to be approved. This interview was the final thing before his enrolment was finalised.

Well! Can I just say that he must have known today was an important day. He must have been very aware that his immediate future rested on this interview.

"Oh!", you must be thinking. "How beautifully, how perfectly, how sweetly he must have behaved."

Well you'd be wrong.

So very, very wrong.

The Bear pulled out all the stops and did some sensational door work. (Door work, for those who don't know the Bear, involves opening doors. Then closing them. Repeat ad infinitum.) Then he started his light-switch work. He switched the lights on, off, on, off, on, off, like a thing possessed.

Then he started biting. Me, thank goodness. I now have seven bite-bruises, all on my lower left arm. That's the one that was stopping him from opening the main door.

And oh! Then he noticed the Principal's pen. Clearly, the lid needed to be taken on and off a few times. And who better than the Bear for this important job? Whoops, another bite for Mummy. Upper arm this time, for a change of pace.

At this point, the Principal noted that he was displaying a lot of ASD behaviours. Really? I hadn't noticed.

But do you know what? That's exactly the behaviour I wanted to see from him today. You see, he needs this place at this kindy. They are the best people to help unlock the child within my gorgeous boy. He will grow and develop to be the child he is destined to be. They are the people who will teach him, and me, and us, so much as we travel this as yet un-named path. We don't know yet whether the Bear has a Speech/Language Impairment, an Autism Spectrum Disorder or both.

What we do know is that he's our bear. And we love him.

five question friday

2010-03-05T13:24:00.002+10:00

This is my first attempt at a link-up thingy, so I hope I do it right. Five Question Friday is courtesy of the fabulous Mama M over at http://www.fivecrookedhalos.blogspot.com, so head on over to check out the original!

OK, so here are the questions :)

1. What's your guilty pleasure?

Chicken flavoured two minute noodle sandwiches, on white bread with butter. I can't believe I just admitted that. Gross much?

2. What is your favorite TV series?

30 Rock. Love love love it. Alec Baldwin is the funniest man alive.

3. Can you speak any foreign languages?

No. Tiny chocolates (bribes? rewards?) courtesy of Frau Finlayson in year 12 notwithstanding, no, sadly I can't.

4. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Not enough. I'm a handbag girl.

5. What's your favorite kind of M&M's...peanut, almond, straight up regular, etc.?

Almond? I'm so moving to America! Of the varieties we get here, plain all the way. Those peanut ones are wrong.

who is the ...oddest... of them all?

2010-03-05T12:01:00.004+10:00

Toddlers are weird, huh?

The Bear's latest obsession is the full length mirror in my room. He loves to race down the hallway, terrifying any small dogs in his path, to check himself out in Mummy's mirror.

But lately, it's taken a new, bizarre turn.

Each day there is a different selection of random objects in front of the mirror.

Today, it's a teaspoon, a toy crate, the phone, a roll of contact and one of my shoes. Yesterday it was a breadboard, a magazine, a toothbrush, a bucket and two teatowels. Not because I'm messy (although I am), but because, for whatever reason, these are the objects that have caught the bear's eye throughout the day.

And how does the toddler about town check out how he looks holding these things? Why, by looking in the mirror, of course!

motor dyspraxia

2010-03-04T13:52:00.002+10:00

The Bear had Occupational Therapy again this morning.

At the end of his session, his OT told me that I had to prepare for the fact that he may well have Motor Dyspraxia as well as Verbal Dyspraxia. From the little I know, MD is another motor planning disorder involving the gross and fine motor muscles.

I was taken aback, as I'd thought his motor skills were a little delayed (and I mean a very little), but apparently he's 6-9 months delayed in a lot of his fine motor skills, and when she has tried to get him to copy her actions, he hasn't been able to.

Again, it's too early to diagnose, but it looks likely.

dorwee

2010-03-02T10:06:00.003+10:00

Here, my friends, is the picture you've been waiting for.

My lovely cream sofa. Completely covered in dorwee. I'm sure you'll be able to work out what dorwee means, after checking out this picture. (Please ignore how filthy my sofa was under the dorwee. It's clean now...apart from the dorwee, which is a permanent reminder of my little Bear, aged 2)

dear john (or whatever your name is)

2010-03-02T09:49:00.002+10:00

Dear Man in front of me in the queue at the bank,

He's fine, really. He might be noisy, but he's fine. He's 2. Two year olds don't usually like the bank. It's very dull, you see. All that waiting in line, with nothing to look at but grown-ups' legs. Yes, I know he's doing that awful, loud, moaning whinge, but he's ok. He just doesn't have any words. He can't say "Mummy, I'm bored." Or, "Mummy, can I please have some sultanas?" I simply have to guess what he means. And sometimes I get it wrong. Please bear with me. And please recognise that all toddlers are whingy at times. Not just mine. So please, if you don't mind, stop turning around and glaring at me.

Thanks,

Millie.

Dear Lady at the Library,

Yep, he's whinging. I know. Oh boy, do I know! But you know, he's been as good as gold ever since we left the bank. And he loved being in the childrens section, looking at books and watching other children. And yes, he threw a book that I gave him when he started screaming. But did you really have to say, in that disapproving tone, "Good Heavens!". Did you really have to make me cry in the middle of the library? All toddlers misbehave. And once in a blue moon, it will be because the parents don't discipline them. But 99% of the time, it's because they are toddlers! Just so you know, mine can't talk. So it makes working out what's wrong a bit more difficult. But that's not why he screamed. He screamed because he's TWO YEARS OLD!!! And, to be honest, all us mothers want is a smile. An "Oh, you poor thing, I've been there before, it''ll pass, don't worry" sort of smile.

So please, think before you judge next time.

Thanks,

Millie

red + blue + purple + green =

2010-03-01T13:18:00.005+10:00

Rich, dark, delicious, scrumptious brown

How gorgeous is this face?

Luckily they were washable pens

the first time ever i saw your face

2010-02-26T12:07:00.002+10:00

I still can't work out this photo business.

Here's one I prepared earlier, just to keep you going while I fight with technology. (You're welcome.)

In the bottom right hand corner, you can just make out the Bear's hour-old, newborn head.

And this was the look on the Gig's face when she saw her beloved baby brother for the first time.

Now am I forgiven for not posting lately?

i'm still here

2010-02-26T11:48:00.002+10:00

And now we will resume our normal programming...

Sorry about the break, all 2 of my readers (Hi T, Hi A). It's just been such a full-on week, topped off by the Bear refusing to have day sleeps any more, boo hoo. He still goes into his cot for an hour, but that's it. And honestly, by the time I've done all the stuff I can't do when he's awake, theres'not much time left for blogging!

But fear not - as we speak, I'm attempting to upload photos from my camera, now that I've found my USB cord. It was "up high", as mentioned in a previous post. So "up high", in fact, that I lost it for over 6 months. Perhaps I need to sort out my clutter, do you think?

(Oh, new software to download. Hmmm, that's sure to be quick and easy.)

Ok, it didn't like me leaving the download window and coming here. I've lost it now.

Excuse me while I throw my computer out the window.

I'll be back, hopefully with pictures next time...

of mice and ...puppies

2010-02-17T08:32:00.002+10:00

What is it with children and comfort objects, lovies, cuddlies, call them what you will? And more to the point, what is it with puppies and an almost magnetic attraction to said comfort objects?

The Gig has a deep and abiding affection for a little pink elephant, imaginatively named Ellie. When I say pink, of course, I’m being kind. Or nostalgic. Or something. You see, Ellie is now a dingy shade of grey. And she looks more like a mouse than an elephant, due to the Gig's unfortunate childhood habit of chewing on Ellie’s trunk. The Gig asked me, when she was about 5, where Ellie’s trunk was now. “Sweetheart, you just don’t want to know...’’

Ellie has seen the Gig through thick and thin. She has been on sleepovers, she has travelled around the world with us, she’s been happy to be dragged around the house 24/7, or alternatively to sit on the Gig's bed with a resigned and patient expression on her trunkless little face, waiting for her girl to return and fill her in on the day’s activities.

When the Bear came along eight years later, we were prepared. TWO lovely, soft, sweet little elephants had been purchased, just ready for the Bear to love and cherish. Well, wouldn’t you know it - he wouldn’t have a bar of them. Oh, he’d hold them while he played, but there wasn’t that…magic. “Oh well”, I thought, “this one’s just not into comfort toys.” I was a little sad, but also somewhat relieved that we wouldn’t have to spend at least three quarters of every waking moment making sure we knew where the damn toy was.

Until one day, when the Bear was about five months old I picked up a little toy mouse (free with outfit) and handed it to him while I changed his nappy. Fireworks exploded, bells chimed, fairies and angels sang – it was truly love at first sight. Mousie (we’re good with names) was now an official part of our family.

So, feeling a bit like the Farmer’s wife, I chopped off Mousie’s tail with a carving knife. (Actually a pair of scissors.) Please don’t call the RSPCA; it was all about safety. The Bear's safety, obviously, not Mousie’s. That tail was too long for comfort, especially as I’d already seen the Bear try to stuff it into his mouth. This operation left Mousie looking more like a teddy bear than a mouse, but, in the interests of confusing all babysitters, we kept his original name.

So life went on. Mousie was loved, cuddled, sucked, vomited on (frequently, but that’s a whole other post) and generally subjected to all the attentions usual to comfort toys.

Until, that is, we went mad and brought home a puppy called Jasper.

Remember those fireworks? Those singing angels? The chiming bells? We heard them all again the first time Jasper laid eyes on Mousie. Jasper is obsessed with poor old Mousie. Whenever the bedtime cry of “Where’s Mousie?” goes up in our house, you can be sure that Mousie is being loved by Jasper somewhere out in the back yard.

An interesting fact of nature is that puppies have far sharper teeth than children do. And puppies have a propensity to chew. Anything. (Everything, in fact.) Especially if they love something as much as Jasper loves Mousie.

First it was an ear. A big, floppy, lovely to hold between the fingers and stroke mindlessly ear. I nearly cried, but the Bear, like the loyal little trooper he is, merely looked at Mousie, touched the place where his ear once was, and snuggled Mousie under his chin.

Then it was the other ear. Mousie soldiered on. Then an arm. Mousie was beginning to look like he’d been in the trenches. All this made no difference to the Bear. And wash after wash, this brave little mouse hung together.

Then Jasper decided to eat Mousie’s other arm. Then his right leg. By now, the re-christened Daniel Day-Mousie was left with his head, his torso, and his…er…left foot. But still Mousie soldiers on. And the Bear teaches us all about true love, as seen through the eyes of a child.

a letter to my family

2010-02-16T12:16:00.002+10:00

Dear Bear,
Please stop letting the dogs into the house when Granny is here. She really doesn't like them, and it's not funny to hear her squeal when Harlan licks her feet. Ok, maybe it's a little funny, but still, please don't do it. Oh, and while I have your attention, please remember that after 6am is bearable (just), but before 6am is the middle of the night, thankyou very much young man!

Dear Gig,
I know you hate homework. I do too. Trust me on this one. But come what may, you have to do it. And thanks for doing the vacuuming downstairs. I didn't expect it and I'm very grateful. But you can't vacuum ribbons, wool, stuffing from toys, paper bags and so on. Unless you think it's funny that I had to spend 15 minutes painstakingly unclogging the vacuum cleaner. As an aside, craft projects really should be cleaned up...

Dear Jasper,
For the love of God would you stop barking at anyone/anything that walks past our house? You are not a tough dog, and no one believes you for a second. Also, if you're going to bark, why not bark at the door-to-door salespeople who actually enter the yard? Why do you love them, but hate the little old lady who lives down the road?

Dear Harlan,
Good dogs don't dig. Full stop. And please don't lick Granny's feet. She doesn't like it. And please, please, please don't eat any more cane toads. We love you and don't want to lose you. Meanwhile, feel free to carry on being so cute.

Dear MOTH,
You do know I'm not, objectively, prettier than all those women on TV, don't you? But I love that you always say I am. :)

And finally, Dear Rain,
Please stop before the roads flood, so I can pick the Gig up from school safely.

Love from Mummy/Millie/the Bearer of yummy doggy treats

how i really feel...putting it into perspective

2010-02-10T13:15:00.004+10:00

Where should I start?

Upset, mad, devastated, worried, panicky, scared, angry, sad, overwhelmed, disappointed...the list could go on and on.

I'm talking about the Bear's (formerly known as the Toddler) speech issues. We are at the beginning of what I know is going to be a long and arduous road for all our family, especially the Bear. I'm usually pretty much okay with his diagnosis (not that it's official yet, but it will be), but every now and then, like right now, I get really angry and upset about the whole thing. It's so unfair on my poor little man. I worry that he'll never talk properly, never have any friends, he won't manage at school, if he even goes to mainstream school, he won't be able to hold down a job...and so on.

It doesn't help when people point out other children who have overcome their speech issues. That is not my child, and they don't have the same condition. However, when I hear about a child with the same condition, who is now speaking well, it brings me great hope.

So, I thought, as I'm feeling so negative, maybe I should take a look at where we are at in reality rather than Mummy-freakout-zone.

Okay. The Bear has (almost certainly) Verbal Dyspraxia. Also known as Childhood Apraxia of Speech.
(But he's still my Bear)

He is having Speech Therapy.
(And making good progress)

Tomorrow he starts Occupational Therapy.
(This will help the speech therapy as well)

He is under the care of a Developmental Paediatrician.
(Who is really caring and compassionate. We were lucky to get onto his books)

He has failed an early screening test for Autism.
(A tough, non-prescriptive test with a high false positive rate)

He may not have Autism, but probably has PDD (Pervasive Developmental Delay).
(This diagnosis can be lifted, and will allow us access to funding and services for the Bear)

He will start attending a special needs kindy soon. It's attached to a local Special School.
(He will get extra therapy from qualified and dedicated teachers)

There are no guarantees that he will attend the same school as his sister. He may well end up at the special school for a shorter or longer time.
(If so, that's where he'll thrive the most)

But you know what?

He's still my precious, funny, happy, cuddly, laughing boy. How lucky we are.

how i really feel

2010-02-10T13:15:00.001+10:00

more puppies

2010-02-09T12:41:00.002+10:00

And this is our little fella, Jasper. He's 10 months and quite insane.

They are both loving, affectionate and gentle little dogs, perfect with children. They're King Charles Cavalier Spaniels. The only downsides to the breed are that they MUST be on lead outside the yard, as they're prone to running, and they moult like nothing you've ever seen!

BTW, this wasn't meant to be two posts. I've still got my L plates on!

puppies

2010-02-09T12:07:00.006+10:00

This is our big guy, Harlan. He's 7, but we just adopted him a couple of months ago. He came from a family with two toddlers, so he fits right in with our family. They had to move overseas for work, so we got to add to our family!

photo flashback

2010-02-08T20:09:00.003+10:00

Back when the Toddler still had blue/grey eyes...

The Tween's were always brown...

I told you they were gorgeous!

in the wee small hours of the morning...

2010-02-08T09:25:00.004+10:00

I have a sick boy. Not a very sick boy, I hasten to add, (and never forget to give thanks) but a miserable, snuffly, hot, blocked-up, sad boy, who had trouble sleeping last night.

So, we co-slept.

Now, I'm emphatically not a co-sleeper. I have nothing against it, but I just can't do it. I love the idea of all my chicks being in the one basket, so to speak, but my kids and I, we're just not good at it. The MOTH is - he snores away merrily whenever we have tiny guests in our bed. Me? Not so much.

You see, I'm a very selfish sleeper. I like to be completely still and not touching anybody before I can go to sleep. The Tween comes in for a cuddle after a bad dream every now and then, but the Toddler is like me, in that he really prefers his own bed. Unless he's sick.

I firmly believe that a sick, scared or miserable child deserves to be in his/her parents' bed. I just really wish I could get some sleep, any sleep while they are sharing my bed. And I have to tell you, while no one wants to wake me up for no good reason, if my kids need me in the night, I am Florence Nightingale and Elise Keaton all rolled into one. I am the best (she said modestly) night-time Mummy in the world.

So last night, as the MOTH slumbered peacefully beside me, and the Tween dreamed lovely dreams in her room, the Toddler and I snuggled, cuddled, sang songs, cried (him, but I wanted to), had little chats about how in the world Daddy can sleep through this racket (ok, maybe that was just me), and generally got each other through the rough old night.

One doctor's visit later, and tonsillitis was confirmed for my poor little munchkin. And right now, the Toddler is fast asleep in his own cot, in his own room.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed myself.

Please drive carefully

2010-02-04T12:14:00.002+10:00

I witnessed an accident yesterday.

A car turning across an intersection obviously didn't see the motorbike coming straight ahead.

The motorbike smashed into the side of the car.

The rider was thrown over the top of the car, turned over in the air and landed flat on her face.

It was peak hour, so there were a lot of witnesses.

I got out of the car to see if I could help.

The woman wasn't moving.

The man who had been driving the car was shaking. Visibly.

Someone called the ambulance.

A man started directing traffic.

My 2 year old was screaming in my car. My 10 year old was trying to calm him down.

I got back in my car, and was directed away from the scene.

Later, I rang the police to give them my details. I explained why I hadn't stayed. The police officer told me I'd done the right thing by leaving. After all, I couldn't help; I had two kids in the car, and there were at least 20 other people there to help. Getting my car out of the way, he said, was the best thing to do.

So why do I feel so guilty?

Please keep the motorbike rider and the driver of the car in your thoughts/prayers.

And please drive carefully.

but where does he find them?

2010-02-03T12:15:00.000+10:00

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a Mummy and a Daddy whose only child, a little girl, was six years old. So the Mummy and the Daddy decided to replace their old, ugly sofas with new, lovely ones. Because their little girl was a very sensible child, they thought they could get away with buying one deep aubergine coloured sofa, and one...cream...sofa.

Fast forward four or so years, and their little girl was ten, and their semi-surprise (that's another post) little boy was two. And one day, the little boy found a ball-point pen. So he did some "dorwee"* with the pen. On the sofa.

The purple one?

Noooooo, of course not! It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying to draw on a purple sofa as a cream one, would it?

So the Mummy tried a few methods of cleaning it. Sadly, none of them worked. And she put ALL the pens in the house up high, well out of reach. Then, a few days later, she went downstairs to get the mail. On her return, she saw that the little boy had produced more "dorwee". Where?

On the cream sofa, of course.

There's a photo coming, as soon as I find my USB cord. It's up high somewhere.

*The Toddler has very limited words. "Dorwee" is one of them. "Mummy" is not.

The difficult second post

2010-02-02T11:00:00.000+10:00

Having opened to rave reviews, I now have early onset writer's block.

So how about I tell you about my gorgeous children?

The Tween is 10, and she's just started year 6 at school. She's a funny, friendly, caring person with some serious mess issues. She's extremely talented at art, so maybe that's why? I tell you, her room is an absolute pigsty 90% of the time. But she's so sweet and helpful that as long as her door's closed and no food ever enters her room, I'm willing to overlook it. Until I have a ranting hissy fit and tell her if it's not clean she's never doing anything fun ever again, and don't think I don't mean it, young lady!

The Tween loves her ipod and her Nintendo ds, and adores Selena Gomez, Demi Lovato and Robert Pattinson. She's a really good reader, but has very different tastes from me, so I struggle to find books that she'll read. The MOTH (Man of the house) usually has more luck there.

As for the Toddler, he's a typical two year old in most ways. He's loving, affectionate, hilarious, stubborn, and very, very cute. He loves drawing, Maisy Mouse, eating and his comfort toy, Mousie. He also has a significant speech/language delay. His speech therapist is sure it's verbal dyspraxia, which is where messages sent from the brain to the mouth for speech get garbled, thereby making planned speech extremely difficult. His Paediatrician is yet to make a formal diagnosis, but doesn't disagree with this view. He has also failed the mchat test, which is an early screening test for autism. This is not to say that he has autism; this test is designed to catch ALL children on the Autism Spectrum, so there are a lot of false positives. We're hoping desperately that he's one of them. This is all fairly recent news, so I'm not yet a mine of Mummy info, but I'm working on it ;). So, for the interim, lots of speech and occupational therapy, a special needs playgroup and a lot of hard work for Mummy. He sees the Paediatrician again in April, so we might have some more answers then.

Anyway, my kids are easily the most beautiful and amazing creatures on earth. Don't you agree?

Helloooo out there!

2010-02-01T13:23:00.000+10:00

Well, after weeks, if not months, of procrastinating, I've finally decided to start a blog. Who knows where it will take me...

The biggest decision was, of course, what to name said blog. I've named two kids (5 names in all; our daughter is yet to forgive us for only giving her one middle name whereas her little brother has two), and let me tell you, it's much easier than naming a blog. For one thing, the children's names don't have to be pithy and clever. Nor do they have to describe anything about me. Except to make crystal clear that I'm not a bogan, of course ;).

I toyed with a few ideas.

"Mama Bear"? Nah, makes me think of that character in "The Hotel New Hampshire" who dressed up as a bear. Vague memories, but icky.

"Grumpy stressed-out Yelling Mummy"? Perhaps just a tad negative.

So in the end, I stole my blog name from James May's t-shirt (you know, the clever, funny, non-obnoxious Top Gear guy). It's an old British WWII slogan. And, to mix up my war-time catchphrases, life as a mum is life in the trenches. You do sometimes have to batten down the hatches (oooh, I've gone all naval now). And finally, my King and Country may not need me, but my beautiful family certainly does.