Airing Out the Bloggy Bits

I should really pay more attention to what I write about my blog, annnnd what I don’t.


A few weeks ago I up and changed the name of my blog, after contemplating what to do about my Etsy shop versus my blog.  I resurrected my old tumblr name, Call Me Momah, for this blog.  I always loved it, as PX has never said “mama” or “mommy” correctly, but always some crossbreed that sounds like MoMA.  But that’s copyrighted and I’m all set going to the slammer.  So, around here we’re momah.  I’m hoping it will also help me to stay positive in the crap (literally) times.

And so with that I made a new Facebook page, but I really have no idea what to do with it.  Like, apart from my own, that is.  Maybe I can use it to stop bombarding my college friends with pictures of my kids and status updates about Elmo.  I think about 5 people on my friends list have kids.  And half(ish) have special needs kids.  Gasp!  The new 1%?!  #OCCUPYSPECIALNEEDSPARENTING (but don’t tell Jenny McCarthy, plz)


Hey girl, I can replenish your… {The Weekend of a Thousand Hours}

Oh fuckity fuck fuck.


Or, might I rephrase, what the fuck are you two fucking fucks, fuck?!


Routines were abruptly changed starting last weekend.  Daddy Drax started in on his summer schedule.  Friday was fine, he was a little sad at bathtime but overall okay.  Saturday was nerve-wracking, nail-biting, hair-raising, all that jazz.  But we survived.  And then Sunday came.  The day it all fell apart.  Let me start off by saying it was muggy as hell out.  None of us do well in high humidity.  All Rizzle wanted to do was sit around and watch Elmo, all PX wanted was his old routine back.  The morning was a shitshow, everyone crying and pissed off about food choices and sick of sweating like a pig by lunch time.  I put all my hopey eggs in one basket and decided that after naptime, I would ensure a fun afternoon filled with favorite snacks and activities.  We’d even go to PX’s favorite store, the grocery store, and hopefully it’d be good. 


….HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Blind optimism at its finest! 


We walked PX’s favorite route but, once we got to the store, it was clearly obvious something had completely snapped, a regression was setting in, input was being craved.  He started chewing on the foamy covering to his stroller bar.  He hung over the sides like a rag doll, legs up over the bar, laughing like a lunatic.  He was swiping at objects and cried when we stopped moving.  Rizzle followed his lead.  I tried giving him his favorite snacks, a special treat for being out on an errand.  Sadly, no use.  I decided to high tail it home afterwards, showing him his picture cards for his swing and lovey.  We somehow made it up the stairs alright, but then the reality of being home and still no daddy set in.  And, it was supper time.


So the kids got Elmo.  PX was still seeking input everywhere but usually the fluffy muppet gives him what he needs visually and, with a favorite toy and squishy vest, he’s fairly level.  I apparently misjudged how much MORE he was looking for.  The kitchen and living room are conjoined so I can watch them while cooking, the one plus of this shitty apartment.  After not even 5 minutes of starting dinner, PX had dumped out my Vitamin Water all over his lap.  I rushed in to assess the damage, burnt my hand on a burner in the process, and arrived just the second PX shoved his entire hand into his mouth and, well, what’s the color code for total projectile vomit?


Himself, his sister, their toys, the couch, the floor.  ON A MUGGY FUCKING DAY IN THE AFTERNOON SUNSHINE.

& my monthly allowance of fucks were used up; not a single one will be given again till June.


So I hosed ‘em down, salvaged dinner, and carried on business as usual.  It was still FIVE HOURS till Daddy’s ETA.  So, no time for whining and dreaming of incredibly strong margaritas the size of bath tubs spoon-fed to me by shirtless cabana boys on a beach in Maui.


Thankfully, once Daddy returned to PX’s world Monday afternoon, 48 hours since he’d last seen him, PX bounced back fairly quickly.  Who knows what this weekend will be, but as long as it doesn’t involve bodily fluids, it’ll probably be a win.  I hope.  If not, I’ve made sure Ryan Gosling will be on standby for moral support, with a case of Clorox wipes and 5lbs of Wendy’s fries.



Double cheezburgers AND RyGos’ abs?  OK!!!



I’d elaborate on this *gem* of the week, if it wouldn’t infuriate me.



I hear it’s quite an inspiring novel, so let’s get crackin!!


Alright time to go link up at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and load up some of my favorite blogs on Google Reader for later. 


So We Have a Date.

June 28th, it’s going down.  Two and a half hours of eval-ness. 
By the end, I will probably decide I typoed and it was evilness.
But, we’ll have some answers, about ten thousand more questions, but we will have our start.
I’ve heard a lot of good things about this psychologist.  I’ve been told he’s good at working with the family unit, seeing PX as part of a bigger picture, and helping to customize our goals and tactics to best fit all of us.  I like that.  Because as much as I am a “my kids come first, I will cut out an organ or pinkie toe to benefit their quality of life!” I know that some things might just not fly with a sensory sensitive one-year-old who has some *mild* separation anxiety in our family portrait.
I’m really excited to get a diagnosis.  That probably sounds fucked, but it’s true.  I have made peace with the fact my son is most likely on the autism spectrum.  I know I won’t be able to look on the bright side 24/7 and sometimes, I’ll get sad and downright pissed about how hard he has to work as compared to NT kiddos.  And that’s okay; emotions are human.  I’m excited that plans will be able to be focused, we’ll know what options we have and what we have to do to get there.
Only 4 months of total waiting, and we’ll know.  We will have some answers for Gus Gus.
transformers 019


Hey Girl, it’s Been a Whole Week…

It’s Friday…again?!  I knew it’d been a while since I blogged, but didn’t think it’d been THAT long.  I took a mini break to try to get myself to stop being so pessimistic about, well, everything.  To just stop, clear my head for summer, and remember to just enjoy the little things again.  Relish in the positives.
Like the fact it’s been a few weeks since any epic Code Brown incidents.  I feel like PX should be getting some sort of award- the Golden Throne?  Maybe I should go get a (clean!) Pull-Up bronzed.
And he’s clapping again, clapping when he’s happy or along with the audiences on Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy.  It’s been SO. LONG.  Like, a year?
And social relationships are, to an extent, starting to sink in; more exists in the world than mom, dad, television, and physical objects.  He may not be chasing down the other little boy at playgroup (unlike Rizzle), but he is using him as a model, to obtain some sort of structure to playtime.  Last week the boy didn’t attend, and PX was lost; he spent the majority of the time stimming on everything in the classroom, completely lacked focus. 
At home he’s rediscovered his sister.  I’m so glad she relishes in his goofy games.  Last night he spent almost 15 minutes taking Daddy’s hat on and off her head, giving her eye contact, making her clap because the rest of us were, including her.  And she just hooted and giggled and smiled through the whole interaction.  At bath time he’s helping to wash her hair and rinse out the suds and feed her bubble cakes.  He’s never been completely oblivious to Rizzle, and it’s always been obvious he loves her, but lengthy interactions like this haven’t existed since she was the curiously cross-eyed thing mom and dad brought home from…wherever.
And then there’s Rizzle, who is walking EVERYWHERE, who has taught herself how to use all the remotes in the house and how to change the disc in the blu-ray player.  Staying one step ahead of her?  Impossible.  (I love it.)
So, back to being positive around here!  I’m determined! 
And considering it’s Friday, it’s time for some Ryan Gosling!  I got all excited when I saw the picture for this week’s SNRG over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood, because I’ve had that shot saved on my hard drive for a bit but, after my initial meme idea from way back, I was distracted at a loss.  Ryan noticed.
Aww lemme go get the weighted blankie.

Thanks Ryan.  Tight pants + the tiniest bit of abdominal flesh = umm, what were we talkin’bout again?  *fans self*
Oh yeah, over the past week I finally saw Crazy, Stupid, Love (that and Blue Valentine are the only RG movies I hadn’t/haven’t seen) and all I can say is OMG TIGHT PANTS.  F’rlzies Ryan?  It’s like you’re Photoshopped!
& with that, happy Friday!


Who Steals from an Autistic Child?

Assholes, that's who.

I heard this story on the news tonight, of a 2-year-old autistic boy having his iPad, laptop, and iPod stolen, and I'm beyond disgusted and heartbroken.

Seriously who robs a home in broad daylight while the family is at a funeral and NOT know who they're stealing from?  Especially in a tiny-ass town like Standish.

Yeah, they don't.

I pray this little boy gets his materials back, and the creeps get more than just a slap on the wrist.

Ugh.  Assholes!

Mother’s Day: Cloudy with a Chance of Gosling.

Is it sunny yet?  No?  What the heck!  My back”yard” is starting to get very sink hole-y/quicksandy.  I will not be surprised if one of these mornings I awake and find a tree has slid into the old barn on the other side of the fence, creating a new escape route for PX.  Eeep. 

All the rain aside, this week has been the hardest week for me since the kids’ evals in February.  And it has nothing to do with the munchkins; they haven’t been overly difficult or had a rough week.  It’s just me, a momism, thanks to Mother’s Day on Sunday.  Oh Mother’s Day, that bittersweet bitch of a holiday.  I will explain.

One of my favorite things as a child, and looking back on my childhood, was making gifts for my family (mainly my mom).  I grew up in a culturally diverse yet heavily Catholic area so there was always something to celebrate.  ALWAYS.  Preschool to middle school, art projects for holidays and festivals were a staple of our curriculum, and I quickly grew to love giving my mom macaroni portraits and hand-drawn cards and tissue paper flower bouquets and Play-Do dishes and allllllllllllll that stuff.  By the time I was 10 I valued our time together spent looking through bags and boxes of my past creations. 

So naturally, when I’d daydream about being a mom to my hoard of children, I began to look forward to getting my own hand-crafted kid gifts.  Of going to work wearing my snazzy elbow macaroni necklace and #1 Mom puffpaint t-shirt.  Of hearing “I love you, mommy.”

But now, on my 3rd Mother’s Day weekend, after weeks of therapies and awaiting evals and special needs playgroups, I don’t know when I’ll ever get that. 

I could *probably* ignore this for one final year, if it all hadn’t been impacted at Tuesday’s playgroup.  The daily project?  A Mother’s Day drawing.  PX was pretty into scribbling and putting on stickers, he even let his teacher put his little thumbprints on it to make a flower.  It was cute, and I was feeling good about his interested level in drawing, and started to tear up.  

And then she told PX “Give it to mom!”  And then I cried. 

Because he couldn’t understand her command.  PX can’t understand how to give someone an object.  14 months of us trying to teach him “give ____ to _____” and he just doesn’t fucking get it.  Every typical kid his age, many younger, I have known can give an object to someone.  But not mine.

So, I cried.  I stopped being positive, and stopped looking for the bright side, and got upset and pissed off and cried.  Because why the hell does everything have to be difficult for my kid, my sweet little booger face?  Why does he have to try extra hard to do things that are supposed to come naturally?  Why can’t PX at least understand how to hand me a picture?  And why does his sister have to struggle, too?  Why?!

Rough week indeed.  Thankfully it’s Friday and that means memes to make me laugh at the linky on Adventures in Extreme Parenthood, especially with this week’s picture.  I’m pretty sure Ryan just wants me to hop in and get dirty, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. ;)

Only for you, Ryan.  Only for you.

For all the mamas & papas in bloggyland dealing with shittastic educators; Ryan gives y’all some Billy Madison rogue justice.

In honor of PX finally getting over his vacuum fear, after 13 months of tearful meltdowns every time it came out of the closet.  Now, it’s his favorite tag partner, just like when he was an infant.

Oh thank god, the kids are heavy into hiding things again lately.  Think they’re playing “squirrel.”  I don’t like that game.

And in honor of it being Mother’s Day on Sunday, Ryan did want all the special needs mamas to know just how wonderful and covered in awesomesauce we are.

I knew Justin and Andy had some help with that tune, mwahahaha.

Oh hellz yes!  *BOOM* Ovaries = gone.


Matted Monday #5

I skipped my weekly picture last week for a very good reason.  But now, back to the routine!
I’m pretty thrilled that my kiddos, mainly PX, are thrilled with these toys.  This is obvious proof that I’m doing a rocking job at parenting. 


A Fabricated Week #3 {my etsy shop vs. my blog}

Ah, the magic of some sleep. 

I wasn’t lying when I said I’d had lots of positives lost in a cloud of fatigue over this past week.  It’s a sure sign of May being better than April, I’m convinced!  The biggest triumph of the week was, on the very last day of the shitstorm month known as April, my Etsy shop got its first sale!  3 out of my 4 drawings have since been shipped to their new home on the other side of the States!  To one person!  That’s a big ego boost for me.  And it happened just when I was going to throw in the towel.  I have so much on my plate I might as well just be sitting at a buffet.  And I completely misjudged how much work running an Etsy shop can be.  I’ve wanted to have an Etsy shop since my son was born in 2010 but I just haven’t had the time to really devote to it.   So a month and a half in with no sales, I was very much considering not renewing my listings in July and held off on posting anything new.  But now I think I’ll keep it going.  It may not be as big and varied as the shop of my dreams right now, but it’s worth it.  My work is appreciated.

But while thinking about my Etsy shop, I started to question whether or not I want to keep my blog’s name the same.  I started blogging again with the intention of focusing mainly on my crafting and photography but it’s pretty much taken on a life of its own as my little parenting ranthole.  I will never pigeonhole myself and say I only blog about ___________ yet I feel my shop and blog having the same name, when being very different, just doesn’t set right.  And I kinda miss my old tumblr username, which is much more fitting with my blog.

So I think it’s time for a change.  Again.

Dude, I freaking survive on change.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to buy my own domain; I’ll be wanting a new one within two months.  Or, well, one month if we look at my most current change desire.

Ok this is boring, time for cute pics of kids celebrating a Sesame Street-y birthday!  See?  See?!  Right there, change change change!  ADHD of the blogz.

009027038Daddy Drax said “Make Cookie’s eyes all crazy!”  Mission accomplished. Accidentally


Special Needs Ryan Gosling Day!

I’m way too tired to form coherent sentences (or title) of substance.  I haven’t slept longer than 1 hour at a time this week, and Wednesday night?  Forget it; made the mistake of giving little Rizzle something containing cheese so neither of us slept that night.  We just snuggled up together, miserable and whining.  So much for hoping she didn’t inherit my side’s awful gut issues.

So all I wanna do is sleep.  Please?  It’s rainy and I’m tired and I have no flavored coffee/creamer.  Sad thing is, in the big picture, this has been a decent week, so I should be all bouncy happy.  Maybe I’ll enjoy all the positives on Saturday.

Anyway, here’s Ryan to put some interesting into this post because it’s Friday and we all know what that means.  Be sure to head over to the link-up at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood for more sexy RyRy lolz.


Why isn’t he topless?


Is that an order?  I hope it is!  (lil Zac Brown Band for y’all btw)


True fact, both Ryan and Adam Levine (Maroon 5) have ADHD.  Adam’s fairly vocal about it, in a positive manner too.  {the more you know}  I’ve heard him credit it for some of his success.  Don’t think he credits it for his sexy, though.  I’d Google the article(s) but I’m lazy.


The One Where We Meet the OT

It’s 2:30 on a Wednesday.  PX has refused to nap all day and is sitting on the couch, blinking back sleep.  Rizzle has just finished having a complete sensory overload meltdown, hair all frizzed about.  Everyone looks like a zoned out hot mess.  Naturally, this is the start of our first OT consult. 
Luckily, she came prepared with a bucket full of Playdough and Playdough toy sets.  PX’s eyes lit up and, as the Thomas the Train table came out for activity time, his second wind kicked in.  Our services lady had also come prepared with a pressure/squishy vest.  PX didn’t resist one bit when we decided to give it a whirl.  And then he stood, like a typical two-year-old, and played.  At the table.  Surrounded by 4 adults and 1 birthday girl.  For almost 10 minutes.
Vest – 1.  Sensory overload – 0.
And so we spoke of hyposensitive sensory seekers and heavy work and creating a diet high in proprioceptive and vestibular activities.  All the while, I was thanking myself silently that I’d read more than just the checklists in “The Out-of-Sync Child” and have spent my nights pouring over blogs and SPD websites; special needs parenting, you really do have your own language.  I feel as if I’m preparing to defend my doctoral thesis, trying to become as fluent as humanly possible in SPD.  But there.  Is just.  So much.  And even more “trial and error” learning, and discovering your kid can be sent into overload before bed from one wrong move.  Oy.  I will be the Popeye of parenting, SPD my spinach, if it doesn’t all kill me first.  (It won’t…hopefully…)


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