a visit from the mad hatter

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?

big boy bed

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

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.

it's a long way to tipperary

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!!!

benevolent dictatorship

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. 

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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. 
5. 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.
6. 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.
7. 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.
8. Toys are for throwing.  Enough said.
9. Unless they are for sliding down the TV screen.
10. 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.
11. I will behave perfectly for my therapists.  For you, Mummy, not so much.
12. 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.
13. 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.
14. Running is my preferred method of transport.  And I run fast, and I have no sense of danger.  Just be aware of this, Mummy.
15. 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.
16. 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.
17. You may not hug Daddy or the Gig.  At all, ever.
18. 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

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.

looking after myself

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!

raindrops on roses...

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.

1. Taking the Gig clothes shopping so that she can spend her very hard-earned cash, and, what's more, liking what she chose!
2. 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!
3. 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)
4. Listening to the Bear sing a scale in almost perfect pitch.  Not bad for a nearly  three year old!
5. Walking into the kitchen to do the dishes and realising that the Gig has done them already, and very well too!
6. Savouring a glass of lovely port with Pacino at the end of a long day.
7. Sneaking away from my children to blog Waiting till my children are happily amusing themselves and popping into the study to blog.
8. 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.)
9. Having the Gig ask to have a friend over - she's been anti-social all holidays, so I was thrilled to oblige.
10.  This boy, in this hat.

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

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!

slacker mcgee, that's me.

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

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

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.

flashback friday: a christening

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

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.

in the wee small hours of the morning

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?

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

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

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?

a plan and some progress

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.

flotsam and jetsom, bits and pieces, this and that

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.