Thank God for College Football

Just as life seems a bit more overwhelming than usual, just when frustrations boil over, praise God and thank you Lord, for bringing back college football. And not a moment too soon.

I’ve recently begun working part-time at Chick-Fil-A in the mall. Brian and Evan are so proud of me…you’d think I’d landed a job in the space and rocket industry, or maybe as a scientist who discovers a healthy way to eat french fries and chicken nuggets at every meal, all while maintaining healthy cholesterol levels.

The boys have even created a Wii “Mii” entitled “ChicFilMoo”, and on the days that I work, it’s a big deal to them that I do my “Wii Fitness” under my ChicFilMoo Mii. They refer to me as "Chick-Fil-Moo" now (except on days that I don’t work, when I remain “Mango Mo”). They think I’m really cool.

Sometimes it doesn't feel so cool to me. It feels tiring, and a bit depressing (aren't I too old for the "quick service" industry)? I’m just trying to help pay the bills. Everything here is so blasted expensive, from housing to groceries. And of course, we're still trying to catch back up from Ed's long unemployment last year.

When we first moved here, I didn’t even pursue therapy services for the kids because we simply couldn’t afford them. Now that my income has started to help us out, I’ve been looking for some of the wonderful sensory-based therapy that was so readily available when we lived in Atlanta. Guess what? It ain’t here as far as I can tell. Oh sure, if I drive to Bethesda or into D.C., more options present themselves. But here in Columbia, I’ve been shocked to discover the dearth of services. This is a “wealthy” area, I'm told, and I have seen my fair share of kids with autism, even in our brief few months here. So where are the services?

I’ve called several clinics that offer PT/OT, but none that offer sensory-based therapy. And these are not Pediatric Clinics either…they handle children, as well as adults. In Alpharetta, I can count 6 pediatric clinics offering sensory-based therapy within 20 minutes of where we used to live. I didn't know how much to appreciate what we had...until it was gone.

I have a dear friend who is struggling with a possible divorce from her husband. Another dear friend just lost his second sister to cancer…within a year. Another dear friend struggles with the issues of balancing her children’s needs with wondering if she’s making the right choices for herself and her family (our perpetual question in the homeschool community): to homeschool or not to homeschool?


Ed and I struggle with two job schedules now, the ongoing money issues, guilt over not being able to provide the kids with what they need. How far can we venture out into the "real world" when we never know which kid might throw what tantrum over something that appears completely inane to us. That constant feeling of being out of control, and doubting ourselves. Wanting to do more for others and our community. Feeling like that in some ways, we have no right to complain when others deal with issues more serious and life-threatening than ours. Wishing we could be closer to our families that seem so far away.

Is this what “mid-life” entails? Layer upon layer of more questions, insecurities, doubts? I guess I figured that by now, I’d have it together. I was gonna be hip and smooth and “in control” (how laughable those two words are to parents of ASD children)!


Somebody slap me, please, and quickly! Control is simply an illusion, and that hasn't changed at all over time.


So Chick-Fil-Moo has been wallowing in self-pity. And just when I’m ready to volunteer for a good cow tipping, (and please leave me lying there to drink in the sweet smell of more crap), along comes college football. And all seems well again. For today, everything seems OK.

Tonight, the kids gathered round the TV. Evan understands not one bit of the game, but loves to hang in there with us and watch. Brian and I cheered for every LSU 1st down, and danced each time we sacked the opposing quarterback. Wonderful, passionate, feel-good, escapist college football.
Tonight’s final Score: LSU 45 and Miss. St. 0

Thank you, Lord.

Dihydrogen Monoxide

Although Billy's new supplement

'Dihydrogen Monoxide' didn't taste

much different than water,

at only $3/ounce he thought

it was a really good deal!

You know it's been a good work-out when you walk thru the door and your loving son looks at you, sniffs distastefully, and declares, "phew, you stink!". Yep, it was one strenuous exercise session.

As life would have it, I may have a chance to work as a part-time package handler for UPS. If I do get the job, I will have to lift 35-45 lb. packages routinely, sometimes over my head, and occasionally, packages up to 70 lbs.

I decided to start upper body work-outs right away. If I get the job, I will need the physical strength. If I don't get the job, then what have I lost? I'll be a bit more toned up, and so much the better.

My "life coach" was thrilled with this win-win, "glass is half-full" attitude. "Good for you", she enthused. I appreciate her support.

****Disclaimer/fine print follows****
She is not REALLY a life coach. It's just that I dig her upbeat, down-to-earth, and realistic advice. She has never claimed to be a "life coach". She doesn't currently represent herself as such, and to the best of my knowledge, never has. No formal education was completed, no licenses earned, and she doesn't even play one on TV. (OK, Sunny Spring and BBA, will that suffice to keep any potential legal action at bay?)

So how quickly can I expect to ramp up to a Mrs. Schwartzenneger physique, and I don't mean Maria Shriver, although that wouldn't be so bad.

If I can only benchpress 40 pounds now, am I doomed?

After only one trip 'round the Universal equipment, my arms feel like sore limp spaghetti.

Maybe a bit of 'Dihydrogen Monoxide' would give me just the needed boost.

Kris, can you take care of that Rx for me?

I have a hiking stick and I'm not afraid to use it!

The hunt was on.

The Fairly Odd Family (that's us!) went geocaching today at Lake Elkhorn. Geocaching requires that you give yourself a code name, and after your trusty GPS leads you to the hidden treasure, you log each "find" on your computer under your unique name. Some diehard cachers have logged thousands of finds, from all over the world.

When we first began Geocaching two years ago, we called ourselves "Col. Mustard, Mrs. White, Scooby Doo, and Little Grey". It was a bit cumbersome as a code name, plus "Little Grey" decided absolutely and with no ambiguity whatsover that he would NOT stand to be called Little Grey ever again.

Scooby Doo and the former Little Grey are fans of the show "The Fairly Odd Parents", so we recently decided to change to "The Fairly Odd Family". It's less cumbersome and certainly more descriptively accurate.

Today, we "Odd Family" members trudged through the bushes next to Lake Elkhorn, avoiding Geomuggles, spider webs, poison ivy, brambles, briars, and snakes, sweating, and generally having a lovely time. Ah, the great outdoors!

Along our hike, we discovered some green, lime-size, seeds or fruits, and I'm clueless as to what they are. They look like green golf balls, or a bit like limes, but they smelled stinky, for sure. Formerly-known-as "Little Grey" refused to touch them. Any guesses? Animal, vegetable, mineral or alien?

Ultimately, we succeeded in our quest and geocaught the target. It's always such a feeling of accomplishment when you sign the log book and proclaim "we were here". This particular cache was in a watertight Thermos, right near the lake. We traded a Geocaching trinket for some Mardi Gras beads that I proudly wore home. Another one for the books!

Who can resist the allure?

And who's with me for the next Geofun adventure?

Babysitter's Rap

I recently assigned a writing project to Brian. He was supposed to use the "5-paragraph model" (introduction, 3 supporting paragraphs, conclusion), and he was to write about characteristics or qualities that you would and/or wouldn't want to find in a babysitter. I chose this topic because he's been trying to convince me that he's old enough and mature enough to "be in charge" of Evan while Ed and I are away for brief periods.

Being Brian, he opted to stretch his wings a bit, and do his own version of the "5-paragraph model".

Here goes:
Hello ev’ryone, my name is Brian.
I’m a babysitter and I’m not lyin.
I’ll explain the best and worst parts of babysitters.
(The babies are also called “little critters”.)

No. 1 is energy that is first rate.
Energy is what made the world great.
Energy is awesome. Energy is fun.
That’s why energy is No. 1.

No. 2 is anger because that is bad.
Anger just makes us sad.
Anger fed Spidey’s new suit.
That is why anger is No. 2.

Last one is patience, that is good.
That is what helps carvers carve wood.
It is what helps inventors invent.
Also what helps mentors ment.

This is what I wrote about.
Come on ev’rybody, let’s all shout!
That is what it’s meant to be.
Ouch! I just banged my left knee!

Anyone need a babysitter? :-)