Adventures in Sawyerland, Part 3

This update will focus on Sawyer's ability to pull out a phrase that is guaranteed to crack me up. 

1. When shopping in Walmart, Sawyer was (miraculously) sitting in the buggie.  She wanted me to run and push the cart ahead of me, letting it go and giving her a ride.  I waited until we were in an aisle that had no one in it.  She was pushing at me with her hands and feet, trying to get me to let go. Once we turned the corner, I told her to get ready, and here we go!!  She went flying in the cart, and with her arms stretched wide, she yelled "THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT!!"

2. Sebastian's birthday, and we are sitting at the breakfast table, eating and getting ready for school.  Sebastian gave me something to open (at this point, I don't even remember what it was).  I am working on it and working on it, trying to get it to open.  Sawyer is standing in front of me, staring intently.  She puts her hand on Sebastian's arm, and in an excited whisper, begins to chant.
"Wait for it......wait for it......wait for it......"

3. Geoff was driving with Sawyer.  We have a bunch of CDs for the car, with kids' music on them.  Our current favorite is the soundtrack for Phineas and Ferb.  We all have our favorite songs (mine is Backyard Beach.).  Geoff is singing along to the music, hamming it up for Sawyer's benefit.  Trying to be heard over the music, Sawyer yells something at Geoff.  Geoff, not sure he heard her right, turns down the music and asks "Did you ask Daddy to stop driving all crazy?"  She glares at him and says "NO!  You are driving ME crazy!!"

4. Geoff likes to pester the kids.  He gets wrestling and play fighting with them.  He pokes them and tickles them, and annoys them.  Nine times out of ten, the kids love it and laugh right along with him.  Occasionally, he pushes buttons that ought not to be pushed.  He was bugging Sawyer one day, and kissing her face, blowing her hair, etc, etc.  Sawyer said no a couple fo times, and kept pushing him away.  Finally, fed up, she put both her hands in his face and pushed with all her might, yelling "Daddy, get out of my face!!!"

Love that kid. 
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "nonstop laughs".

My baby boy

Today is my son's 10th birthday.

I remember, years ago, when we were in the beginning stages of therapies, and diagnoses, and IEP's, wondering what it would be like when Sebastian turned 10.  I honestly couldn't fathom it.  I didn't dare think of it, for fear that it would be too painful.

And here we are.  10 years old. 

And it's pretty great.  :)

Sure there is weirdness and trouble and worry.  But for the most part, 85-90% of my time with him and thinking about him is good.  I focus on that. 

Today was the first time that Sebastian was actually excited and interested in his birthday.  We started the morning with questions about whether or not Santa would be bringing presents for him today.  I told him no, Santa brings presents at Christmas, today he would get presents from Mom and Dad. 
At breakfast, he planned his day.
"First school, then Brick by Brick.  Then nothing.  Then home.  Then presents?"  The last was a bit of a question for me, asking for confirmation on something that might be too good to be true.  I nodded, thrilled that he was looking forward to something.

We planned pizza for dinner, and after dropping Sawyer at nursery school, we ran to Walmart and picked up his favorite drink (Strawberry-banana smoothie) and some frozen pizzas.  We got a couple of last minute gifts for him, and headed home.

I have been trying to simplify our lives, and slow down the rampant consumerism that used to run through our house.  Sebastian is EXTREMELY difficult to buy gifts for.  He has very specific interests, and usually can't be interested in things outside of that.  The usual "boy" gifts, like lego, cars, trains, even colouring books, hold little to no interest for him.  For years, I have tried to bribe, tempt and even force him into playing with these toys.  It's not worth it.  So, this year, I have forced myself to be realistic about what he would like.  We got him some books about Phineas and Ferb.  We got him a new copy of the Muppet Movie, because his old one is scratched and doesn't play well.  It's one of his favorites.   We didn't get a cake, because he doesn't like cake.  The icing is too sweet, and goopy for him.  He had swedish berries. 
It was really hard to not force my own agenda on what I thought he might like, or should like.  It is hard not to buy, just for the sake of buying, so that he would have lots to open on hs birthday. 
It was hard, but not impossible.  I did it.

When we came home, I decorated the house.  I have a bag of birthday decorations, and I pulled it out.  I always decorate for the kids' birthdays, even if it's just us.  There is the flag out front, the door banner, the Birthday Boy/Girl banner for the front window.  I have the Happy birthday to hang from the fireplace, and the happy birthday booble head bull dog.  There are happy birthday tableclothes, and candles and napkins.  I like to make a big deal, without making it TOO big of a deal.  I like it to be an occasion.  I like it to be their day.  Soon enough, it becomes a not-a-big-deal, so it's nice to be little and have a day all to yourself.  I like to make that happen.  And they get so excited to see the balloons and streamers and banners, and realize that it is for them.  Sawyer still talks about "her party". 

We headed out to pick up Sawyer and bring her to my mom's.  Geoff and I had an opporunity to observe one of Sebastian's therapy sessions today, so Sawyer was spending time with my parents while we did that.  She was happy to visit.  We went to get Sebastian from school and head to therapy.  His class gave him a gift for his birthday and he was surprised and happy to get it.  He asked again about presents tonight.

At BbB, he headed in for his therapy, and after a few minutes, Geoff and I headed over to watch through the 1 way glass.  It was great.  He is very relaxed there and does all of the crazy things he does at home.  I was amazed at how good his eye contact with his therapist was, he actually talked with her.  She was very good and was getting about 30 minutes of attention from him, before he needed a break.  They would do about 3 different activities in that 30 minutes.  He did so well, I was incredibly proud of him. 
It broke me when he used scissors.  Yep, scissors.  I yelled at Sawyer the other day for trying to cut up papers in the bathroom sink, but the vision of Sebastian cutting a straight line with scissors all by himself literally brought me to tears. In a good way.

We stayed for about an hour.  I could have stayed longer, but I didn't want the poor therapist being nervous about having us hanging around.  We went, grabbed some lunch and then came back and picked him up.  The director and the therapists got him a gift too.  They said he was so excited and appreciative, it was so fun to see. And it was just over Dora stickers.  He promised to share with Sawyer, even when I told him he didn't have to.

We picked up Sawyer and Grammie and Papa gave him a present early (they are coming over tomorrow for cake and presents).  He got the Phineas and Ferb movie, the one that he was asking Santa for.  He was so excited.  Sawyer got Strawberry Shortcake, and thought that was pretty damn cool too.

We came home, and Sebastian finally got his presents.  Sawyer was right into it too, bringing them over to him, helping him unwrap them, oohing and aahing over each and every one.  Then Sawyer wanted to sing, so we sang Happy Birthday.  There were hugs and kisses and smiles and love all the way around.  We ate pizza in bed and watched his new movie. 

It was one of the best 10th birthdays I could have ever imagined.  Love you, Halloween boy.  Lots and lots and forever and ever.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new decade of Sebastian adventures".

I Heart SAMCRO

I am trying to get caught up on SOA, because my sister in law is taunting me with the amazing stuff that happens and I simply just miss it.  It is one of the best shows on TV, hands down.

The first episode had an amazing song and it is stuck in my head.  I put it on here, so it can be stuck in all of yours as well.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new music".

Who's the Boss?

I don't really like my boss. 

Bear in mind, I report to 2 different people.  One of them is fine, I like him, we get along.  He leaves me alone and let's me do my job.  More importantly, he trusts me, knows that I know what I am doing and most importantly, treats me like an adult.  I have respect for him, and we work well together.

The other one...yeah, it's not good.

I have no respect for him.  The sound of his voice drives me a little batty.  When he makes a decision, my first reaction, deep in my gut, is to do the exact opposite.  We do not see eye to eye on most things, I KNOW that I can do the job better (because I have) and I feel as though my time, thoughts, and opinions have absolutely no value, unless they make him look better.

So yeah.  I don't like my boss.

It's 11pm on a  Saturday night.  Yes, I am working.  Yes, I was available on our communicator.  But the fact that he will contact me, and fully expect me to jump to his beck and call...it burns my ass.  I am infuriated.

I try to move tasks to him, that belong there.  He pushes them back to me, because he can't understand the simplest concepts.  I try to share tasks with the team, so that I am no longer solely responsible for the success or failure of procedures.  He tells me he is more comfortable if I hold onto them for "a few more months, just to avoid confusion."  That will make it a solid year that it's been on my plate, buddy boy. 

Someone tried to explain to me, a while ago, what it would be like to report to a fully knowledgable, accountable and business saavy manager.  I can't even imagine it.  I have been saddled with 2 train wrecks, back to back.  That they make more than me blows my mind.  That I keep making them look good makes me ashamed.

I know I shouldn't be posting this.  I KNOW this.  But I can't help it. 

I try not to burn bridges.  I try to play nice in the sandbox.  Others on my team have thrown up their hands in defeat, and I keep plodding on, not exploding, not yelling, although every fibre of my being is telling me too.  I think I am worried that if I start, I won't know when to stop.  And I need this job too frigging bad to let that happen. 

We had a meeting last week.  I started to talk, to TALK to him.  I looked at him and I talked about how things were going bad, and how it was not fair that we had to live with the environment that we were stuck in.  I was talking to, at and about him.  And he looked at me, with his big, dumb, completely oblivious eyes and completely missed the boat. 

I am logging off now, before I say something I will regret.  But just remember- me typing this now, might keep me from screaming it in his face on Monday.  So thanks for that.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "numbnuts."

Oprah's...errr...Anita's Book Club

yeah for me!  I am part of a book club!

I have wanted to be a part of a book club for years and years.  Finally, my friends and I just created one.  I am hosting the first get-together and I got to pick the first book.  I picked "The Scarlett Letter".

My friend Teresa inspired the choice.  In one of my blogs, I wrote a description of Sawyer.  The next day, Teresa asked me if I had ever read the Scarlett Letter, since my description of Sawyer reminded her of the one of Pearl in the book.  I hadn't read it, but my interest was now piqued.  I put it on my to-do list.

Once we had the book club put together, I knew it would be my first choice.  Everyone (so far) seems on board with it.

I also started a Virtual Book Club at work.  Since I am running both of them, they are both reading the same books.  Makes my life easier that way. 

I am cheating a little and listening to the audio of the book while I work.  But don't worry, I am also reading it at home at night.  :)  So far, I like it. I really do!

And as for the description of Pearl...You tell me who this reminds you of...

 Her nature appeared to possess depth, too, as well as variety; but--or else Hester's fears deceived her--it lacked reference and adaptation to the world into which she was born. The child could not be made amenable to rules. In giving her existence a great law had been broken; and the result was a being whose elements were perhaps beautiful and brilliant, but all in disorder, or with an order peculiar to themselves, amidst which the point of variety and arrangement was difficult or impossible to be discovered.

 Above all, the warfare of Hester's spirit at that epoch was perpetuated in Pearl. She could recognize her wild, desperate, defiant mood, the flightiness of her temper, and even some of the very cloud-shapes of gloom and despondency that had brooded in her heart. They were now illuminated by the morning radiance of a young child's disposition, but, later in the day of earthly existence, might be prolific of the storm and whirlwind.

Mindful, however, of her own errors and misfortunes, Hester early sought to impose a tender but strict control over the infant immortality that was committed to her charge. But the task was beyond her skill. After testing both smiles and frowns, and proving that neither mode of treatment possessed any calculable influence, Hester was ultimately compelled to stand aside and permit the child to be swayed by her own impulses. Physical compulsion or restraint was effectual, of course, while it lasted. As to any other kind of discipline, whether addressed to her mind or heart, little Pearl might or might not be within its reach, in accordance with the caprice that ruled the moment. Her mother, while Pearl was yet an infant, grew acquainted with a certain peculiar look, that warned her when it would be labour thrown away to insist, persuade or plead.

 It was a look so intelligent, yet inexplicable, perverse, sometimes so malicious, but generally accompanied by a wild flow of spirits, that Hester could not help questioning at such moments whether Pearl was a human child. She seemed rather an airy sprite, which, after playing its fantastic sports for a little while upon the cottage floor, would flit away with a mocking smile. Whenever that look appeared in her wild, bright, deeply black eyes, it invested her with a strange remoteness and intangibility: it was as if she were hovering in the air, and might vanish, like a glimmering light that comes we know not whence and goes we know not whither. Beholding it, Hester was constrained to rush towards the child--to pursue the little elf in the flight which she invariably began--to snatch her to her bosom with a close pressure and earnest kisses--not so much from overflowing love as to assure herself that Pearl was flesh and blood, and not utterly delusive. But Pearl's laugh, when she was caught, though full of merriment and music, made her mother more doubtful than before.
Yep.  That's my girl.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new books!"

The big sleep for Morpheus?

I am so worried about my cat.  We have had Morpheus since the day we moved in together 15 years ago.  We had, at one time, 4 cats- Jedditt and Morph, who were littermates, Orca, whose mom died and we got when he was 5 weeks old, ladened with fleas, and Boo Radley, an adoption from the Humane Society.

And now, just Morph remains. 

I honestly didn't think he would last much longer after we lost his brother Jedditt.  Jedditt had a tumor in his stomach, and we put him down 2 and a half years ago.  Morph has carried on.

Morph and Boo
in our first house

Boo Radley was the last to join our family and the first one we lost.  One day, he wouldn't come out of the bath tub.  He just laid in there, head down, meowing softly now and then.  It was late at night when I found him.  The other cats, one by one, went into the tub and laid with him for a while.  Then, when they jumped out and left him, they never looked back.  It's like they said their goodbyes, and have moved on. 

Because it was so late, I had no where to take him.  He didn't seem like he was in any pain, so I thought we could wait until morning, and take him into the vet for a check up.

I scooped him up in a fresh warm towel and made a bed for him in a laundry basket.  I set him beside my bed, and fell asleep petting him, hearing his rumbles.

Geoff woke me at 2:30 in the morning.  Boo was dead.  He had made it to the doorway of the bedroom and collapsed.  It was February, so I wrapped him in the towel and stored him in the garage.  I worried so much that I was wrong, that he wasn't dead.  I kept going out to check on him.  He most defintiely was, but I had a hard time saying goodbye.  The next day, I managed to shovel out a grave for him, behind the garage.  I put him in the ground and said good bye.

Orca was the next to leave.  He was such a big boy, Orca was a fitting name.  We had been camping, and my mom and dad were feeding and watering the cats for us.  Maybe it was the time away from him- 3 days- but when we got back, he looked swollen and huge.  I honestly don't know if it happened overnight, or it was just that we finally noticed it.  He could barely walk, his bellly hung so low and wide.  When I petted him and felt down his body, I could feel his skin, and how it pulled away from the muscle underneath.  He was dehydrated. 

I nursed him through the night, again.  It was a weekend, and nothing was open.  Call me a bad pet owner, but I didn't have the money (and still don't) to pay the $150 minimum fee for the emergency clinic.  So, I fed him water with a spoon and eyedropper, and mushed up all his favorite foods until they too were liquid.  He seemed to perk up after a couple of hours, and I was relieved to see him on the mend.  He used the litter box and waddled his way around.  I knew we would have to watch his fluids for a couple of days, but he seemed so much better.  *sigh*  Now I know different. 

The next morning, after a few hours of sleep, I found him dead in the laundry room.  He had curled up in one of the sheets off of our bed, and gone to sleep.  I cried and cried and wrapped him in the sheet that smelled of us, his family.  It was June, so I dug a grave beside Boo, and buried my big boy in it.  Sheet and all.

Jedditt and Sawyer

Jedditt was the last one to leave.  He used to be big and fat, and gradually got skinnier and skinnier.  This time, we managed to get him to the vet.  She confirmed in quick time that he had a tumor and was dying.  She confirmed he wasn't in any pain, but that he didn't have long.  She told Geoff (who took him in) to bring him home and let us say our goodbyes.  As soon as he showed any signs of deteriotating, we were to bring him back.  We had another week with him, before he became so weak he couldn't stand.  I was working, so Geoff took him in.  Geoff stood with him and petted his head, while the vet did her thing.  He was gone before the needle's plunger was all the way down.  He came home in a box, wrapped in a baby blankie of Sawyer's.  For the first time, I didn't bury my pet.  My dad did.  He was here when Geoff came home, and said he would do it.  Geoff said that he had seen my dad get the box out of the van and walk into the backard with it casually swinging from his hand.  He said it bothered him to see that, but that he couldn't bring himself to do the burial himself.  Of course, Jedditt is behind the garage, with his brothers.

Morph and Axle
Good buddies.  Now.

And now, there is Morph.  Morph, who was always shy and skittish.  Who never adapted to change, but has since accepted Sawyer and Axle into his circle.  He and Axle have become buds, laying together, snuggled on the bed, or in matching chairs in the living room.

About a week ago, I noticed Morph's belly seemed bigger.  Swollen, almost.

Today, I couldn't find him.  I searched high and low, my heart racing.  I dreaded finding that stiffened tail, sticking out from under a cupboard, or bed.  Eventually, I found him in my closet, laying in a pile of my old sweaters.  He looked up and meowed and me, yawned, stretched and went back to sleep.

I keep checking to make sure he is alive. 

I can't help thinking- it's a weekend.  No vet is open.  I can't afford the emergency clinic.  I will nurse him, if I need to.  I just want him to make it to Monday, so he can see the vet. 

But I am worried that soon, there will be one final grave behind the garage.

Keep your fingers crossed for us.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "not now, not ever.  Please."

Missing the Boat

Geoff and I had a date planned for tonight.  Just to talk, something that is way, way overdue.  But instead, I worked five and half hours of overtime and he fell asleep.

What does that say about us?

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "not good."