it all comes back to poop, doesn't it?

This is why no one wants to visit. 

I woke up this morning at 7:00 a.m. That's an entire hour and a half later than usual, so I was feeling mighty excited. Punkin was STILL SLEEPING, so I snuck to the bathroom, decided not to flush lest I wake him, and crept back to bed until EIGHT O' CLOCK. Oh ya. It was gonna be a glorious day indeed. 

Little Guy woke up and I promised him we'd go for our daily drive on the highway as soon as he went potty. We flushed and nothing much happened. He flushed again and DANGER DANGER DANGER -- the water levels reached extremely unsafe levels, so I plunged my life away trying to save us from a spill. It did occur to me later, though, that if it had overflowed, I might have had a case for replacing the carpeting (yes, carpeting) in the bathroom with something more logical, like tile. 

So I called the landlord and left a message and we got ready to leave. I opened the door to the main hallway of the building to see a very, very large puddle from my door down to my neighbor's. We trudged through it, assuming it was rainwater, and went for our drive.

When we came back, maintenance was standing in my apartment shaking their heads. Apparently that "puddle" was toilet sludge and the people in the other apartments who were taking showers, etc, were making it larger. 

I grabbed our laundry and a few essentials while yelling, "Punkin, NO! NO PUDDLE! NO STOMPING! NO, HONEY!" 

Needless to say we've spent the greater part of the day at Oma and Opa's house washing our shoes. 

just me and my mom

Spring Break has been rather brutal on the little guy. Nothing has been the same: there's no school, no Sunday School, the therapy dog wasn't in church last Sunday, and his respite worker has been gone the last two Fridays. We've had to drive the highway to look for semi trucks every morning (between 6:30 and 7:30) to compensate for not being able to ride the bus. If I don't promise this every night, he will sob himself to sleep while holding his backpack and wearing his shoes and coat. Did I mention it's 73 degrees outside?

I tried taking him to both museums, to the zoo (pictured above), to the park, to the movies, we tried making cookies, painting, playing with Play-Doh, going to Oma's house; he participated in all of it. For five minutes. And then he asked to go on the highway again.

We start again on Wednesday. We can totally do this, guys. We totally can.

we need more boardmaker pictures, stat

Seems I have a little chef living in my home. He's had the same kitchen set since he was about two years old and in recent years hasn't played with it unless I've dragged it out to the living room. I decided just to leave it next to the television, and now he plays with it all afternoon. It just so happens that some of his advanced pretend microwaving skills have transferred to the real microwave. This morning I came out of my bedroom after getting dressed to discover him holding a plate, which he had climbed the cabinets for, with a slice of pizza on it. He put it in the microwave and pressed the minute button.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

monster art

My coworker and I were sitting, catching our breath during nap time a few weeks ago, trying to think of some fun crafts for our class. She said, "I've always kind of wanted to give kids a bunch of random materials and see what they come up with." And so we did that, in a way that was developmentally appropriate for our students. I wish I could show you what they came up with, but I simply don't have permission from their parents to publish their work. Instead I will show you my son's creation. He was charged with making a monster, although when I showed it to him a week later and asked him what it was, he exclaimed, "A PUPPET!"

Read more about monster art at PreK and K Sharing.

just my opinion -- end the word

But I never called anyone that! I would never say that about someone with a disability. I called myself retarded. I said my car was retarded. I said it about someone we all know is super smart. It was a joke. It was from a movie. I didn't mean it like that.

You did.

If you have to explain yourself that much, then you need to find a new word. Maybe try using the one you meant in the first place -- stupid, broken, defective, slow, weird. My son is none of those things, and he doesn't appreciate his medical diagnosis being lumped in with your insults.

he cried, i laughed

You remember that one time Punkin streamlined vomit into my eyeball? No? You have your own life, you say. Well, it happened AGAIN on Friday in an eerily similar situation. I was called during work; Punkin had vomited but otherwise seemed fine. His doctor and I had been discussing his reflux medications for a while and trying, still in vain, to get him back on the Prevacid Solutabs he was originally prescribed but for which Medicaid no longer wishes to pay.

Anyway, I took him home, called the doctor, and tried to discern whether Punkin was actually sick or not. The doctor decided that no, he was not ill, he just needed a new medication and a more restricted diet (boo). So I buckled him into his seat and the usual hacking cough and tug at the throat began; usually I can say, "Punkin, stop" and it will in fact stop him.

He projectile vomited all over the back of the car. I grabbed a towel and managed to catch the second wave, and even the third, but not before a dagger of hot puke pierced my right eyeball. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN TWICE?

We drove home, which is about 20 minutes, both completely disgusted. He cried, I laughed. He proceeded to throw up on the couch and both of our beds, but had no other symptoms.

Now he's taking omeprazole capsules, which have to be opened and sprinkled over applesauce. I almost got applesauce in the eye the first time I gave it to him. But with the promise of SKITTLES!, he eats it. Oh the joys of parenting. 

baby steps

So the weekly calendar is working nicely, but the nightly schedule may take some time. He complies with all of the steps, but then when I'm not looking he does this. How do you sleep with a backpack on? Poor kid. We missed the bus Monday, and today and tomorrow he has to stay home because of fifths disease. That's three days of no bus, people!