If you give a mom her crying baby...

If you give a mom her crying baby, she will take him in her arms.
When she takes him in her arms, she will try to comfort him.
When she tries to comfort him, she will feel his awesome strength when he knocks her square in the face with his flailing arms.
When she feels his awesome strength, she will remember that he has not had any floor time that day.
When she remembers that he has not had any floor time, she will take him to her room where there is carpet.
When she gets her baby in her room and on the carpet, he will do a face plant.
When he does a face plant, she will be horrified by how filthy the carpet has gotten to be.
This will remind her that the carpet has not been vacuumed in.....well, a really long time.
So she will pick up her now comforted and no longer crying baby and go to fetch the vacuum cleaner.
On the way to the closet that the vacuum calls home, she will drop off the baby in the living room, placing him in the Bounceroo.
She will then get the vaccum and begin to vacuum the carpet.
Not long after she begins vacuuming, she will decide that the floor lamp is not bright enough for her to see whether or not she is vacuuming the carpet thoroughly.
She will then turn on the overhead light and turn off the floor lamp.
When she turns off the floor lamp, she will notice the lamp's shade is rather dusty.
She will finish vacuuming the carpet and then move on to the lamp shade.
After seeing how well the vacuum removes the dust from the lamp shade, she will remember there are two more lamps in the room.
She will decide to vacuum the shades on those lamps as well.
Feeling very proud of herself for accomplishing something more than just her typical daily dishwasher full of dishes and one load of laundry, and also having worked up a bit of sweat, she will get the idea to turn on the ceiling fan.
When she goes to turn on the ceiling fan, she will see there is a no-less-than-one-inch layer of dust on the edges of the fan blades.
She will then decide to vacuum the edges of the fan blades.
And what the heck, she says, I might as well vacuum the undersides of the blades too.
After vacuuming all noticeable traces of dust on the ceiling fan, she will then turn on the fan and turn off the vacuum cleaner.
When she turns off the vacuum cleaner, she will once again hear her baby crying.
She will return the vacuum cleaner to the closet and rescue her crying baby from the evil Bounceroo.
After rescuing her baby from the evil Bounceroo, she will take him in her arms.
When she takes him in her arms, she will try to comfort him.
When she tries to comfort him, she will once again remember that he has not had any floor time that day because it was interrupted by her vacuuming the filthy carpet.
She will place her baby on the carpet and then reach for a baby toy from the top of the dresser.
As she gets the toy down from the dresser, it will make a clean streak amidst all the dust on the dresser's surface.
When she sees how dusty the dresser is, she will decide to dust the furniture in the room.
Not wanting her baby to breathe in all the dust, she will pick up her now comforted and no longer crying baby and go to fetch a dust cloth.
On the way to the cabinet where she keeps the dust cloths, she will drop off the baby in the living room, placing him in the Bounceroo....

And that, my mamacitas, is why accomplishing any housecleaning whatsoever when you are a mom is totally dependent upon crying babies.

More Than Anything...

Autism continues to amaze me on a daily basis. Or rather, Reiss continues to amaze me with the unimaginable number of hurdles he has overcome on the road of autism. We have gone from Reiss saying "I-ya" (I love you!) in response to when I would tell him "I love you" when he was a baby, to him not having any meaningful speech, and then later on having only echolalic speech. With the addition of ABA therapy, Reiss then began having meaningful and conversational speech. That's not to say we do not still have our moments of wondering if there is a parrot in the house, but oh, how things have changed!

It is all of those wonderful changes that keep me getting out of bed every single day.

These are the words Reiss sang out as I was putting Rhett into his car seat this morning:

I love Rhett more than anything.
More than sand on the beach.
More than a fish in a cup.
More than me reading a book.
I love Rhett more than anything.

It won't burst my bubble or disappoint me if someone comes along and tells me these are words similar to those in a particular book he may have heard read to him at school. They are still the sweetest words I have heard in a good long time.

100 Days of Bliss

Ha! I wish it really was nothing but true blissful peace around here for the last one-hundred days but anyone who has ever had a newborn infant knows I would be lying if I said these last three months have been filled with only sunshine and rainbows and baby kisses.

But with that said, this simply adorable little three-month-old face is my excuse for taking such a long bloggy sabbatical. Isn't he just perfect? I couldn't be more in love...

My apologies for the poor photo quality, as it is an iPhone pic.

I suppose if I still have anyone out there reading (which would be nothing short of a miracle, in my opinion, since I, personally, tend to drop other people's blogs from my own reading list if the writer has not posted in a month or two) they may be curious about the chubby face above.

Rhett Anders was born at 12:55 a.m. on October 17th, 2011. He was 7lbs, 15oz. - only a few ounces more than my first two children at their births but he has gained weight at a substantially faster rate than Reiss or Milla. At 100 days old, Rhett weighs in just shy of 17 lbs - where Reiss and Milla were when they were around nine or ten months old. Rhett is already in 6-9 month outfits. I just love his roly poly little fat self. And I mean "fat" in the most loving way. Reiss never had any rolls. He has never had so much as an extra ounce of fat on him. Milla had chunky little thighs for a short period of time as a baby but outgrew them quickly and continues to be skinny. But Rhett...oh, I could just eat his cheeks for lunch!

Rhett did not make a peaceful appearance into this world. That is for certain! I was scheduled for a c-section that Monday morning anyway but went to the hospital Sunday night in sheer agony. I had gone to the hospital two times in the previous week and been sent home in such pain from contractions that, at times, I thought I might pass out. Having never had contractions with either of my first two children (both scheduled c-sections), I did not know what one felt like until then. By late Sunday night (October 16th), I was not having contractions but just one long contraction. Even the anesthesiologist confirmed on their little monitor thing what I had been saying (or screaming, rather) all along. I don't know how they can see pain on a screen but since they were in agreement with what I was telling them, we'll go with it.

A lot has happened since Rhett's birth and thus (such a cliche word!), the reason for my blogging absence. My days are filled with playing mom taxi to the older two, nursing Rhett, changing Rhett, carrying Rhett (he is not yet very keen on being set in his bouncy seat or swing), some days crying right along with Rhett because he won't stop crying. Okay, not really but he has been quite a fussy pants and so he has been seeing a chiropractor for massage and gentle adjustments. It seems to be helping. That, or it is psychologically working for me. At any rate, Rhett seems less fussy and that is the ultimate goal in all this.

Every once in awhile I also get in a load of laundry. The "every once in awhile" part being the biggest contribution to why Milla has no clean socks right now and why we had to snatch a pair out of big brother's drawer this morning just so she could get dressed.

The dishes are generally about two dishwasher loads behind these days. Thank goodness James got me that new set of stainless steel pans for Christmas or else we would really be in trouble with the dish situation. If I didn't love my crockpot enough before, I most certainly do now. So much so that my ole standby crockpot kicked the bucket a few weeks ago. Actually, it could still work but the handle broke off the lid and a call to Rival (Crock Pot manufacturer) proved unsuccessful for me to order a replacement.

So that is my boring life right now. It yields very little excitement but much happiness since we are all quite in love with Rhett around here as we live in our housekeeping catastrophe of a house. Maybe I will get brave and post some pics of the different rooms like Della did. Just don't anyone hold their breath......

A Little Grease Fire to Liven Things Up

Yeah, so I darn near caught our house on fire this evening while attempting to start dinner. Yay, me! I get the award for Idiot of the Day.

I was heating a skillet on the stove to sear some chicken and got preoccupied (only a few feet away) with another task for a little longer than I should have. When I came back and drizzled olive oil into the pan, it instantly caught fire. Live and learn....first time for everything, so I will definitely be more diligent in the future regarding not getting sidetracked with other tasks.

After last week's incapacitating illness that kept Reiss down for four days straight, he is back to school this week. It has taken him all week up until today to get back on track with being able to stay on task and maintain himself without meltdowns or disruptive behaviors. Poor little dude. If there is one thing I hate about autism (Actually, I hate autism altogether - all parts of it, no ifs, ands, or buts), it is the fact that the smallest things can set Reiss off into a tailspin. Granted, being sick for days on end is nothing small but it has taken him just as long as he was sick to get back into the swing of things at school to a point where he is not causing a ruckus for his classmates.

Less than two weeks until this baby makes it arrival. At this point, I get very little sleep due in part to the simple fact that I am so large that some whales are even smaller than I am, but also because my children allow me approximately the same amount of sleep as newborns allow. I am thoroughly exhausted and find myself getting annoyed by trivial things. It is a challenge, to say the least, to remain calm while trying to care for two children whose needs quite often exceed the needs of say, ten children. Try as I might to channel Michelle Duggar, often times the calming effect only comes after I retreat to the laundry room and devour some of the candy that was meant to be for Halloween. Five bags. Two weeks of being in there. You do the math. I will be buying more candy before Halloween, for sure.

In other news....I hate when I say that because it lacks any sort of creativity. However, what I am about to say this time literally is in the news. If you are in the mood to get ticked off about the injustices of the legal system and how children with special needs get the short end of the stick almost every time, go HERE. And if you really have a desire to get worked up, read the comments following the article. This kind of thing happens every day in schools around our nation. Unfortunately, this particular incident was at a school approximately five miles from my house, which drives home the point that no school, no community, is immune to this kind of treatment of our children by educational "professionals."

I said it on Facebook when I linked the article to my Wall and I will say it on here: God help this woman if she ever crosses my path because she will need it. And to Ms. Littleton - If, for some odd reason you happened to have stumbled upon my blog and perceive that statement as a threat, go right ahead.

Kick Me While I'm Down

Thirty-eight weeks pregnant and a swift kick to the belly is how my day got started this morning. Not the best way to kick off a positive day. Get it? Kick. Off. Nevermind....

Actually, I was not down either. I was sitting on the side of the bed trying to wake Reiss by patting his bottom. As soon as he woke, he hauled off and kicked me and it just so happened to hit the big fat target called my baby bump, which is more like a baby whale. Typically, I am pretty quick to react and can fend off his occasional hits or kicks but they usually come at a time when he is being placed in timeout and I am more conscious to what may be coming. This kick was his first action of the morning and as soon as his eyes opened. He was not in trouble at the time or being hauled off to a timeout - just annoyed apparently, with his bottom being patted or by being woken up or annoyed that it was me waking him and not James or who knows what. You just never know. The kick caught me by surprise.

He has been a little "off" for the last two weeks anyway, so this was just icing on the cake. This, too, shall pass and hopefully, I will not have to endure any kicks to the belly once there is an agonizing c-section incision to contend with as well.

Kicking must have been his thing for the morning because he then proceeded to try to hit (and missed) the director of his school at drop-off as she tried to get him out of my SUV. He was preoccupied with the air vents in the back of the console and clearly did not want to exit the vehicle. Once out of the SUV, he then hauled off and kicked her too.

I do not tell people things like this to publicly criticize my own child but rather, to demonstrate how autism can facilitate inappropriate responses from the child involved. I do not condone him kicking and am certainly embarrassed by it, but I also do not use autism as an excuse. Yes, autism is what causes the inappropriate responses, including those physical ones, but it does not get him out of disciplinary consequences when he uses such a means to react. Does that make sense? Long story short, yes, he is being a brat and it is because of the autism but we do not let it slide when he does such things.

In other news, as if we did not already have enough reasons to believe our neighbor is an oddball, we got a knock on the door this evening by a local policeman with quite a story to tell. Without going into major details, we now have even more reason to consider our neighbor a nut job and it involves delusional behavior, a physical altercation, and our neighbor's beliefs that some local teenagers are selling secrets to radical Muslims. I knew he was weird.

The cop came knocking on our door because he could not get anyone next door to answer even though he saw someone walking around inside. Now, this neighbor has lived here for over five years and I can honestly say that I can probably count on one hand, with a finger or two leftover, how many times I have physically seen his son who lives there with him. Supposedly, the son has a disability from a work-related accident and cannot work. There must be something else going on as well though, and I mean something mental. The guy can walk so it seems odd that in that amount of time he has been outside or left the house so few times.

Whatever....I just hope to goodness that they keep their freaky-dink stuff to themselves. Coming near my kids with their weirdness would let loose a fury that I do not want to consider right now, considering my current physical condition. Or ever, for that matter.

Top 10 Reasons Having a Sick Child Rocks

In over six years of being a parent, neither of my children has ever been terribly sick. I have never known what it is like to have an ailing child lying around all day sleeping or watching tv or staring blankly at the walls. Oh, we have had our bouts of vomiting, diarrhea, and a sniffle here or there that lasted a day or less. We have also had the seizures with Reiss, but he bounces back after a few hours of deep sleep.

Reiss had one ear infection when he was a few weeks old - coincidentally (or not so coincidentally), immediately following when we began supplementing his breastfeedings with dairy-based formula. Milla has never had an ear infection.

Nothing has ever kept either of them down for more than 24 hours.

No, really. I know, hard to believe, right? People do not believe me when I tell them Reiss has never picked his nose either.

Oh wait, we did have that time when the hospital overdosed and nearly killed Reiss when he had to go to the ER for one of his seizures. The medication overdose kept him down for close to three days but can we really count that since it was medical "professionals" at fault (yes, we know this because the doctor and nurse stood there in the ER, bantering back and forth about whose fault it was, right there in front of my husband and me as we watched our son convulse on the exam table) and not a natural cause like a cold virus?

For these last four days though, Reiss has been caught in the grips of a cold that has him coughing, sneezing, and watery-eyed. He has been whispering when he wants to talk (which isn't much, surprisingly) and shaking or nodding his head when asked a question.

I find myself asking the question, "Wow, so this is what it is like to have a sick kid?"

And although it breaks my heart to see Reiss this way, I still like to think there is a silver lining to everything. So I have come up with ten reasons why having a sick child rocks. God or karma (or whatever belief you subscribe to) is probably going to come back to haunt me for making light of Reiss being sick. I will likely be struck down by contracting Reiss's illness and will be down for the count next week, but honestly, it has crossed my mind that all I need now is to figure out how to duplicate this week in a way that does not involve germs or my little man feeling miserable.

• 10. We are homebound. That is a money-saver right there! Well, assuming I do not go online to visit Amazon or Land's End.
• 9. I have cleaned out things around here that I forgot existed.
• 8. No homework to oversee. Being in kindergarten, Reiss does not have a whole lot of it but does any parent enjoy homework time?
• 7. No therapists in my home every day = not worrying about whether or not the house is picked up.
• 6. I am ahead of the game with the laundry situation.
• 5. No weekly Chick-fil-A outing. Okay, I love Chick-fil-A just as much as the next mom. I do! And biting into that juicy, fat-filled crispy chicken sandwich drenched in mayo? Yum! The play area there...well, it is absolutely delightful, especially when there are 37 other children besides my own in there and I am the only parent within immediate distance to supervise - which is the case almost every single week. But skipping a week of all that bliss now and then is just as delightful.
• 4. My duties as house servant have dropped dramatically this week. Apparently, sick kids do not ask for much, other than help with finding an on-demand tv show approximately every twenty-four minutes.
• 3. I have squeezed in two naps this week! I cannot remember the last time I got two naps within two months of one another.
• 2. My house has not been this quiet since before having children, which leads me to the #1 reason having a sick child is like a small luxury...
• 1. In the midst of the quiet and being able to sit for more than 14 consecutive seconds, I have gotten to read. Real books. No Dr. Seuss or Llama Llama or SkippyjonJones. Nothing that came from a Scholastic order form. Real books....off my neglected dusty bookshelves. During. Daylight. Hours!

Just Let Me Complain.

There. You have been warned. If you are not in the mood for my Debbie Downer rant for the day, buzz off. Come back another day when I can put on my rainbows and marshmallows happy face.

Four. More. Weeks.

This pregnancy is approaching its final stages and I could not be happier. At least, not with that particular aspect of life right now. Other things? Well, with every day I am getting more and more - how shall I say this - witchy, only with a capital "B." Or impatient. Maybe that is a more appropriate word.

I am complain-y and cranky and tired. Literally exhausted. I am uncomfortable. I feel things that I did not feel when I was pregnant with Reiss or Milla, like when I sit too long and my legs feel like the circulation is getting cut off. I am HUGE. The nurse at my OB appointment the other day said I had actually lost weight from my previous visit but seriously, I am ginormous. I waddle, for cryin' out loud! I do not sleep well and then I get up and have to deal with two children who can be well-behaved on some days and then downright terrors on other days.

Whoever, whomever, whatever word you want to use, said that children's behaviors are the direct reflection of the mood of the parents never had a child with autism. I can be as sweet as sugar and spice and everything nice and there are just some days when these monkeys are relentless with their drive to send me over the edge. I hate that I feel this way and I do not like it when people jump for joy over being away from their kids (like so many people I see hooting and cyber high-fiving at the beginning of the school year) but honestly, at this point, I cannot wait to go to the hospital to have this baby just so I can catch up on some much-needed rest. I will miss my kiddos and they will come to visit but I need rest. Sleep. I need sleep. I am losing my marbles without sleep and wondering why, why, WHY after six years of being a parent I still get about the same amount of sleep as a new parent.

Oh wait, I remember why. Autism. Yes, autism often has a way of making every aspect of life a living hell, especially when it comes to the parent or the caregiver ever feeling truly rested. Ever. Again. And while I am complaining, thank you, autism. I hate you!

Rant over because my non-gluten-free and super-bad-for-me frozen biscuits have just finished their stint in the toaster oven. Off to eat them with our organic jam. Because I'm feeling rebellious and that's just the way I'm gonna roll with today's punches.

Dear Sears...The Kardashians? Really?

Have you seen THIS?

After browsing the ads in yesterday's Sunday paper, I felt tempted to shoot an email message off to Sears in response to the launch of their most recently acquired line of clothing: Kardashian Kollection. You know, in all my spare time.

My message would likely have been some long-winded reminder that since their beginnings Sears has seemingly touted a purpose of catering to the average-Joe type of American.

Imagine my surprise at Sears's front-paging (yes, I am using that as a verb) of this sassy and provocative line of clothing brandishing the Kardashian name when what Americans (or perhaps just myself?) are used to seeing come out Sears are commercials and print ads featuring flannel-clad men out mowing their lawns on their Craftsman riding mowers, tools for repairing any imaginable household disaster, and sparkling appliances with every last convenience option a homemaker could hope to have available at the touch of a button.

I will admit that I do not watch any of the Kardashian series and my judgments are simply preconceived notions derived from seeing the previews now and then and so although I am merely guessing here, I feel fairly confident that not one of those Kardashian women has ever done lawn work, much less mowed their own lawn and certainly not on a riding mower. I would be surprised if a single one of them knows a thing about repairs of any kind involving anything outside perhaps, a broken nail. Even then, they have people for that as well, right? As far as taking advantage of the conveniences of an appliance, well, they have people for all those menial tasks too, don't they? Or no?

My point is how does a company go directly from target marketing to the average middle-class American to targeting fashion conscious women who buy clothes based on the brand-name of a family of celebrity divas? And why is Sears, of all the down-to-earth companies out there, soliciting this name to American households?

Perhaps my message to Sears should just go something like what I have been wanting to ask the media and the gossip rags and on my facebook status all along...

Dear Sears:
Why on earth am I supposed to care about these spoiled Kardashian twits?

Preparing for School and Ditching the Nuker

Holiday weekend. Not a lot going on here. The kids start school Tuesday, Milla in preschool and Reiss in kindergarten. Reiss will attend with one of his ABA therapists by his side full-time. I have been working on getting all their materials ready to go. If it weren't for us being gluten-free and casein-free, we would have nothing to prepare for, as the school they are attending generously provides all necessary school supplies.

The snacks are provided by a designated child in each class each week, however, because the snacks provided by others are rarely gluten-free or casein-free, all of Reiss's and Milla's snacks will come from home. Other than fresh fruit, I have requested to each of their teachers that neither child eat anything that is not provided from home. Since Reiss already has a few years of preschool under his belt, I am fully aware that many parents do not follow the healthy snacks only rule, which usually results in children bringing in Goldfish crackers, Fruit Loops, Fruit Roll-Ups, cheese sticks, and other snacks that either do not meet our dietary restrictions or fit within our guidelines, but are not things I would prefer that my children eat or at least, not on a regular basis.

Another area of concern is with the amount of time the children will play with Play-Doh while at school and since the actual Play-Doh brand crafting dough is not gluten-free, I am providing each of the kids with a few different colors of Crayola Model Magic. My hopes are that the instructions on each Ziploc bag I will provide will be a sufficient reminder for their teachers to store the Model Magic properly so that James and I do not have to take out a second mortgage in order to keep both kids stocked with crafting dough throughout the year.

In other news, we have been slowly - very slowly - replacing our plastic food storage containers with glass and stainless steel tin options. Each piece of aluminum and non-stick cookware is also making its way out our door, one-by-one, and slowly being replaced with stainless steel pieces.

Naturally, it would seem that getting rid of our microwave should be on the list of home goods that need another home. So sooner than I expected, I got the motivation for doing so after reading THIS piece on New Life on a Homestead. I laughed out loud when Kendra, the blog's author, mentioned she was hesitant to stand in front of the microwave when it was in use because I am the same way. I have been for awhile but even more since I have been pregnant. Who knows what that thing is emitting when it's powered up! My paranoia is apparently farther reaching than Kendra's though, because I do not turn the microwave sideways away from myself or my kids. I figure whatever harmful effects are being blasted out of that piece of kitchen gadgetry are likely flying out all sides and in all directions. Turning it sideways will not make a difference....or will it?

This morning marked Day #1 of our venture into Microwave-Free Living.

At breakfast, everything went off without a hitch. Sunday mornings we generally have bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. The eggs get cooked on the stove, the toast in the toaster, and the fruit, of course, we just eat sliced and raw. I baked our bacon in the oven and was surprised at how evenly it cooked and how well it tasted - much better than I had expected and more flavorful than when I cook bacon in the microwave. For lack of a better theory, I have a feeling the improved flavor was due to it cooking in its own grease, whereas, I always cooked the bacon in the past on a special little microwave-safe rack, separating the bacon from its juices.

I had lunch all planned out for excluding the microwave and preparing it was to be easy enough. Boil the hot dogs on the stove. Bake the crinkle fries in the oven. Heat the canned beans in a pan on the stove. With my confidence level on high, I absentmindedly placed our frozen hot dog buns in the microwave oven and zapped them, only realizing what I had done just as the timer beeped at the finish.

Darnit......I didn't even make it for a full day without nuking something. My resolve was not banished though and I picked right back up on our new venture soon after lunch when I began our dinner preparations by mixing the ingredients for spaghetti sauce in the crockpot. I also baked a spaghetti squash in the oven along with a butternut squash to be used in muffins in a few days. We all like spaghetti squash but I also prepared gluten-free pasta on the stove and ultimately, that was a saving grace because the spaghetti squash was bad on the inside when I cut it open to scoop out and reheat. And just because I was on a roll, I also made some brownies. The recipe calls for slicing them into nine brownies but I was slicing them four by four in the pan, to make sixteen. Reiss ate five of them after dinner and with ingredients like the ones listed in that recipe, who am I to say no to giving him such a great source of protein?

Other than the hot dog bun infraction, we stuck to microwave-free living today. Here's to tomorrow - a fresh start. A new day to prove we do not need to "nuke" our food. To Labor Day.....hope you all have a great one!

Reliability is Everything

Even at forty years of age (yes, that happened back in July), I continue to be amazed by my own idiocy at times. You would think I would learn from some of my own mistakes but no, there they are and I just keep going back and making them again and again and again. I have come to realize there are some things I can just rely on but for some reason that reliability does not come to mind when I am in the moment.

Like when I decide a trip to Target sounds good. Am I the only one who has to deal with customer service or have some sort of interaction with a manager every single time I visit this store? It goes without fail. Something will ring up incorrectly and the cashier cannot correct it after I have been rung out. Or my organic nectarines are ringing up at $1.69 each instead of per pound and for some reason, the cashier does not understand why there might be a tiny problem with paying $1.69 for one nectarine. Just today those little teeny boppers in their bright red polo shirts in the customer service department were treated to not one, but two visits by me. First, I had to make a return upon entering the store. Then as I left, I had to go see them again because the cashier did not ring up my coupon. Will I go back? Certainly. Darnit if I don't get sucked in by those $3 off meat coupons on the days when the Laura's Lean beef tenderloins (filet mignon) typically expire. That spirit of the chase and a good deal on meat are generally what lure me into going to Target in the first place.

Parents brag about their kids...a lot. It's natural, I know - we all want to be proud of our offspring for something. I see it on Facebook. I hear it when I am somewhere (sometimes at Target!) out shopping and a parent or two are congregating in the aisle (usually blocking it and making passage impossible for those of us who are actually shopping). I wonder if bragging on their children has that same backfire effect on those parents as what I experience. Just a few days ago I was bragging to Reiss's occupational therapist about the wise choices Reiss made while we were in the play area of a local fast food place that we had just visited before his therapy appointment. He had told some other boys he did not want to play with them because they were being too mean. So, of course, right as I stood there bragging, he and Milla were crashing toy bulldozers into the walls and ramming them into one another as hard as they possibly could. Irony? No, just idiocy on my part. And reliability on their part. Thanks for the backfire, kids. Love you!

Or, here's another example of one of my bragging backfires. It never, ever fails that on every occasion when I brag and go telling someone "Reiss has not had a seizure in ...... days/weeks/months. Yeah, I think we have this whole seizure thing nipped in the bud" that his rebel neurons will fire all wrong and within 48 hours of my bragging, there it is, eyes rolled to one side of the head, convulsions, loss of bowels, vomiting...the whole nine yards which usually also include me sitting there like a blithering idiot, crying my eyes out and wondering why my child has to go through such an ordeal. Better yet, why any child has to go through such an ordeal. So did I hesitate even an inkling just last Tuesday when I crossed my fingers and knocked on wood and proudly declared Reiss having been seizure-free for six full months? No, I did not. And sure enough, last Thursday evening Reiss had a seizure. And again this morning too. I wonder how long before I will start bragging again.

How about this one: I can accurately predict, almost to the hour, how long after I clean a toilet in this house that someone will make a fouler than foul, commode-clogging, skid-marking number two visit to the bathroom. Have I learned my lesson? Nope, I just keep cleaning these bathrooms. One of these days, I am going to figure out how to use that prediction skill to my benefit.

Speaking of airing my dirty laundry....I try to keep up with the laundry by washing at least one load per day. This doesn't always happen and often I may go enough days without turning the washer on that the carts are overflowing. But one thing I can count on is the fact that once I get back into that washing-drying-folding groove and everything gets caught up we will have a day of potty accidents. Or an unusually large number of clothes changes because of food spills, bloody noses, or, in Milla's case, sometimes just because she changes her mind. She is, after all, a girl. It's like a conspiracy against me with the laundry carts demanding to be fed. I should just let them continue to overflow and their demands to be refilled will disappear. Maybe then we won't have so many food spills, Reiss's puzzling issue of bloody noses will be solved, and Milla won't have the option to change clothes every hour because she won't have any clean clothes to change into. The laundry carts will stay full and there will be peace and harmony and dirty clothes abound. Note to self: Stop doing laundry. Problems solved.

For the last several months, I have had a goal to mop the kitchen floor on Sunday night or Monday day. It gets cordless vacuumed daily...or perhaps, I should say hourly - almost. Here's another area when I can almost accurately predict when and where a large mess is going to happen. Usually within four hours of post-mopping I am cleaning up a spilled drink, an exceptionally messy snack, or some other form of splat on our newly shining floor. This past week Sunday came and went, Monday came and went, and so went the entire week until Friday when I finally got around to mopping the kitchen floor at around 10am. Should I have been surprised when Reiss, at around 12:45 (well within our four-hour post-mopping window) and in a moment of me not paying attention for all of thirty seconds at most, disappeared into the garage without my notice and retrieved a bottle of wood glue and then proceeded to spill half of it onto the clean floor? No, I shouldn't have been surprised. But I was. There it was, good old reliability. And my idiocy in not seeing what was coming.

In summing things up, I think what really needs to happen is I should stop feeding my family marked down filet mignon, terminate all bragging about my kids, and cease all housecleaning efforts around here. Seems easy enough, right? Lessons learned. Now I'm off to tackle a load of laundry before hitting the hay....