It's Not the Shark You Can See, It's the One You Never Saw Coming

True Story. A Bit o'Back Story: My eldest children are under the ESE umbrella of Autistic Spectrum Disorder. #1 is under it because she still needs help with speech and testing. #2, well, #2 is a whole different picture.

At home lately, she's been using more words than jargon, expressing her feelings more, saying what the problem is rather than pitching a fit, being more physically affectionate and having actual conversations with her sisters and with us. I'm thinking, "Wow. Look at all this improvement." Dun Dun "This is so great." Dun Dun Dun Dun "She's actually communicating." Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun "She must being doing great at school." Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun "What's the music? AHAHAHAHAHAAAAHHHHH!" Chomp. Chomp Burp.

At school, #2 has been doing none of her work, defying teachers to the point of kicking them, she's woefully behind and refuses to do anything unless she wants to do it so says her teacher when she called this morning. Now, I have been getting notes home that say things like "#2 said no a lot today." Okay. I say, "You need to do what your teachers say and don't tell them no." She says, "Okay Mom. I will." If I get another note the next day, she loses a privilege, and then she has a good day the next day. I had no idea things had gotten to this point.

While yes, she she shouldn't tell her teacher no (and obviously, much more), I'm at a loss. How do I correct behavior I don't see at home? How do I address things that happened hours ago by the time she gets home. Sometimes she knows what I'm talking about and other times she has no clue why I'm griping. It's so frustrating.

Back at the rabbit trail: I seriously pray for everyone I know who is pregnant to have children that can communicate normally because this is crappy. Not being able to communicate with your kid normally s-u-c-k-s. It just does, and sometimes the only thing that makes it tolerable is the fact that it isn't terminal.

At home, I see nothing but improvement upon improvement, and to get a call that it's all going to hell in a handcart at school...bless America! There are NOT enough squirrels in the world to kick. I'm pissed and frustrated to tears and all I want to do is eat pizza. I'm pretty sure that's not really going to help anything though. I feel as if I'm being asked to solve a math problem with a blindfold on. "We know you can't see the problem, but we really need an answer. Can you solve this for us?" I know there is only so much the teachers can do. I'm not blaming anyone. But guess what? There is only so much I can do too! And if I was tailing her around the school, there is a very good chance she wouldn't act that way because I was there so I don't even know if shadowing her to see what she's doing would help. I don't know what would help. I'm pretty sure that throttling her when she gets off the bus today is a short term solution and counter productive to a long term goal, so I'll refrain though currently it seems like a really good idea. In fact, it's all I got in my bag of tricks right now.

So let's sum up today's drama in a tidy little math equation:

Angel at home + Demon at school = Mom doesn't know what the hell to do

Yup. That's about it. If you can solve this problem, please contact me as soon as possible. I'd love the answer key.

It's Late, I'm Gonna Throw You a Bone

Okay people. Rule of thumb: think about what you're going to say before you say it. I'm just saying it's a good idea. I keep running into people who seem to have forgotten that just because you think it, doesn't mean you have to say it. You are ALLOWED to keep certain thoughts to yourself. True story. Let me give you some for instances.

If you meet someone who of an ambiguous origin, don't just throw one out there. Don't just make one up. If you can't tell if their ancestors came from Egypt or Mexico, um, ask them. People are not offended at most questions. They are offended at most assumptions.

Conversely, if you are of an obviously of a certain background, don't automatically assume every question has to do with your background. If someone asks you if you like beer more than whiskey, don't just assume they're making a reference to your being Irish and that all Irish people are big drinkers especially if the the question is in relation to the current conversation. They could be just asking because they brew beer as a hobby. I had a suite mate in college who had a friend that made everything I said into some negative reference to them being black. "You just said that cuz I'm black, didn't you?" "No, I was just saying your shoe is untied." True story.

Now, I have been fortunate enough to be an Army Brat, and as such, I have traveled the world and have experienced many cultures. Many people have no such luck. It's hard for fish in a small pond to understand the ways of the Great Barrier Reef. Please take all questions that end with "why do you people do that?" with a measure of grace. It's not usually a sign of malice towards you. Again, conversely, if you really can't believe that some Asian cultures eat dogs, please ask what ever that question in you mind is to yourself. Will it bring you closer to that person or push them away? Are you really wanting to know more about this practice of eating dogs or are you passively aggressively letting this person know that their people are horrible, disgusting dog eaters while trying to sound culture saavy? Seriously, think about it.

Quit asking people when they are getting married/having a baby/going back to school/blah blah blah. If you can't think of anything else less personal or less none of your business, talk about the weather. Especially the baby thing. Honestly. It's like asking people about how much sex they're going to have...seriously! Mind your own!

Also quit asking fat people or really skinny people about their eating habits. It's insulting! Stop it! Not every fat person lives on Coke and donuts. Not every skinny person has an eating disorder. Maybe they have a sickness that makes them gain weight or not able to gain weight. You don't know. Mind your own! Honestly!

And finally, people are going to say dumb stuff to you. They just are because everyone does stupid stuff sometimes. Just look at the fruit. Are really trying to be nasty or are they just uneducated about the subject at hand? Once again, think before you speak. If you're afraid you might have verbal diarrhea, just go home and google and/or Wikapedia that thing you just must know. Then, you appear wise for saying nothing as opposed to an idiot who can't stop talking. And it's 2 am. Jen's out. Peace!

Oh. My...Do I Really Have To Do This?

Okay, so Happy 35 years to me...the washing machine broke. I've been spending my last few weeks looking for places to wash dirty knickers and researching washers because that's just what a woman wants. A new washing machine to clean more messes she didn't make. I am convinced that the reason June Cleaver wore pearls and heels while she cleaned wasn't because she was on TV. It was because she was drunk from her bridge club's secret drinking game: a shot for every pair of streaked boxers you find. She lived in a house of men...d-r-u-n-k. So, the velvet shirt is dirty. The jeans are the same. I am in Target not my dining area, but I am still hot so it counts. Thanks to the food journal, I discovered that I don't eat much AND I don't drink either. I mean, I should be wasting away but no. My body should be on an episode of Hoarders. "Here is some baby fat I found from some other woman's pregnancy. No sense letting good baby fat just disappear. It should be displayed on Jen's badonkydonk for all to see. Over here is my neighbor Mr. Danish. If any other Danish enters Jen's body, he lets them stay with 'im right there on Jen's inner thighs. Lumpy ain't it?" Conclusion: I really do need to eat and drink more so my body with lose weight properly. Does that sound Twilight Zone to anyone else?

Enough about why I'm fat and on to today's drama. It involves me and a dead thing. (Insert your favorite dear-me-I-am-so-grossed-out sound effect here)

I call the dogs in from the yard. Chloe the older dog comes. Tinsel the puppy does not. I go searching. I take about five steps, look down and scream. There is a body in the yard...a bunny killed by dogs body. I do what every girl does. I take out my cell phone and call Bear. (Yeah, he's in the house about 50 feet from where I'm standing but this kind of freak out can only be done over the cell in the back yard....obviously.) It should now be noted that Bear hurt his foot and might possibly need to go to the doctor if it's not better tomorrow. He says "Get the shovel." Thank you Sir Galahad. I, the squeamish over scraped knees girl, will pick up the dead thing. No problem. (Understand that he really can't walk. He really cannot help me, so he's not being a donkey. Men should note that this doesn't matter to girls. We still want you to pick up and dispose of all things dead no matter your physical state. It's not right, but it is what it is.) So I'm miffy now. I get the shovel. How can this get worse? It's already dead, right? As I start to dig under the little guy, it becomes clear that he's not in one piece. Technically, he is. I mean, there's that piece of whatever bunnies are stuffed with holding the two pieces together. Oh the joys. I'm trying to dig without looking. I finally get all of him on the shovel and over the fence he goes.

But he's not gone.

He's stuck on the wisteria vines growing over the fence and I CAN'T KNOCK HIM OFF! I just start laughing. It's really gross and hilarious at the same time. I mean honestly! What else can I do? So this is the bunny. My hilarious horror for just for you. The brown, fluffy horror....now I really can't eat anything.