Spring!

Spring!, originally uploaded by cheryl.

Even though it's rainy and cold today, I am determined to remember that just a week or so ago it was sunny, warm and near 80 degrees. That's definitely unusual in our part of the world for this time of year, but it was a wonderful two-week break in the middle of all the snow and ice and cold we've had this winter.

So I'm holding onto it pretty hard ... and apparently I'm not the only one. My oldest son is just like me. He might even be worse. He keeps seeing the trees and flowers coming out and talking about how Spring is finally here. Baseball is on his mind, of course, but we'll talk more about that later.

The funniest thing he said to me was one afternoon on the drive home from school. I had already been getting the "it's a nice day to visit the park" routine pretty often. We usually opted for the back yard instead, because I was pretty sure the bathrooms were still closed for the season, and that can be problematic. But every day he had a new request of something outside we could be doing.

But this day in particular he was not thinking of the park. He was dreaming bigger. It was one of the really warm days, near 80 degrees, when he actually wore shorts to school and didn't even bother to take his jacket. It was that nice.

So there we are, driving home from school, playing our usual 1,000 questions. Then out of no where, the kid comes up with this.

"It's pretty warm today. I think it's time to get the boat back out."

Um, what?

That's rushing the season even for me, and I love the boat, too. It's March, after all. This week there have been highs in the 30s and I even scraped snow of my windshield last weekend at work. So I don't think it's quite boating weather, just yet.

But you gotta love the kid for trying. That's Mommy's boy.

Oops!

Most parents of five-year olds are probably not nearly as excited or amused when their children develop new words. After all, most five-year olds have a pretty extensive vocabulary already. Any words they’re adding are usually not “good” words.

My potty-mouthed six year old is learning the hard way that some words are good and others are not – usually by the loss of privileges for repeated use of bad ones. At the moment, he’s particularly fond of “butt” and “stupid” and also the derivatives that include “head” at the end of both. And I am equally fond of revoking his television and computer privileges for repeated usage.

But I digress … I was talking about one of my five-year olds.

You see, Xander is not your typical five-year old. He has autism, and his speech progression has been anything but typical. Both twins started with very basic babbling and initial words – ball, mama, dada, bye, etc. Around their second birthday, they slowly faded until they were completely gone, as though the effort of speaking simply wasn’t worth it anymore.

Slowly but surely, Xander’s words have come back. They started with spontaneous words in the middle of babble. Not even small words, but things like “apple juice” and “garage” in the middle of nothing. He progressed to making basic requests, like “eat” or “milk” or “cracker” or other simple requests.

These days, the boy is a parrot. He will say just about anything you say, especially if it involves him getting something that he wants. Like food. Or computer time. Or balloons. You know, things that really motivate him.

We have worked with him to get him from things like “juice, please” to saying “I want juice, please.” It still takes prompting, but not nearly as much. He knows that we expect him to use words to get things he wants. And he usually tries, though the result is often very scripted. There are certain words or phrases that are always used in certain situations. That’s simply how his brain is wired. Words and language do not come easily, but memorization – knowing what to say at what time in order to get the desired result – does come pretty easily for him. His memory is actually quite impressive.

And lately, he’s picking up more and more.

One of my favorites is a new one. “Oops!” or even better, “Oopsie!” when he drops something or something falls. It’s adorable. The word, the way he says it, the genuine expression on his face. Adorable.

And amazing. I know most people probably can’t see it, can’t imagine why words like “oops” are important coming out of a five-year old’s mouth. But they are. They’re huge.

And we can only hope that one day his twin brother, who also has autism, will say equally adorable and amazing things.

Right now Sawyer is at the spontaneous words in the middle of random vocalizations. There are few if any consistent words, but there are real, whole words that sometimes come out of his mouth. We always turn, do a double-take, to hear them. Because we have not heard his voice since before his second birthday. And we cannot wait to hear it again.

"Oh, Chutes & Ladders!"

That's Connor's newest phrase to come home from school.

I have a feeling this one may be from the teachers, but I don't really know. Kind of a creative way of voicing frustration, don't you think?

"Oh, chutes and ladders!" can be heard often in our house. Connor is easily frustrated these days.

It could be worse. Much, much worse, I suppose.

Early Holiday Break

Ice Storm, originally uploaded by cheryl.

A little snow, a little ice, a little rain. A big mess. And no school for three of the five days this week, counting tomorrow which is already cancelled.

Connor will now have 15 whole days off from school. Can you hear his excitement? He's probably still in his room dreaming the rest of that "Yeeeessssss!" - his response when I told him he did not have school tomorrow after all.

After two snow days in a row, I might be ready to go to work tomorrow afternoon. For a little while anyway!

"Watch Up!"

And There He Goes ..., originally uploaded by cheryl.

It's been happening more and more. Words. Phrases. Verbal communication.

All are very hard won, have to be something he really cares about or wants. But the words are finally starting to come for one of our twins.

Just a year or so ago, I could have listed all the single words Xander might say. They wouldn't have filled up a single page. Earlier in the year I sent a list to his speech therapist at school of words we were hearing at home, the ones being used consistently and appropriately. Now I could not even list them all.

One of my favorites, though there are many, is when he comes up to me and says this one.

"Watch," he says, pulling on my hand. He wants to take me to the living room, specifically to the locked cabinet where we keep the children's DVDs. "Watch," he'll say again, pulling eagerly on my hand. And when we finally make it to the cabinet, the small phrase will come.

"Watch Up!"

It's his favorite. Pixar's Up.

So we watch it. Pretty often, actually. You'd be surprised at how much he gets these days. Words are powerful, and I think he's starting to see that. He's trying so much more, and repeating almost everything you say to him.

It's still about motivation, about wanting or needing something. But it's such a long way from where we started.

Yes, we watch Up a lot. And I'm okay with that.

To the Dentist

To the Dentist, originally uploaded by cheryl.

Today Connor had his very first visit with the dentist. Yes, we're a little behind on such things, we know. But we finally got around to it, and he had his first visit today.

It went incredibly well.

On the way there, he kept telling me his teeth were already clean - that he brushed them last night. I had tried to explain over the last few days what a dentist was, why we need to go there on a regular basis, and what might happen during his first visit. He didn't seem too excited.

He was still a little hesitant going inside. We had never been to this place before, so he wasn't exactly sure about it. Until he saw the waiting area. With toys. And even a PlayStation in the corner. He was over there before I could sign him in.

The actual visit itself was fine. He sat down in the chair, despite looking a bit nervous, and after a moment or two of his usual bashfulness, he eventually started talking with the tech. He got to choose his flavor of toothpaste for the "teeth tickling" part of his visit. He liked that - both the flavor and the cleaning. Then the tech flossed for him (not so much a fan of this part). Next was his fluoride treatment, where again he got to choose a flavor. After that the dentist, Dr. Tim, came in to have a look. All good, with the exception of a chip on one of his back teeth (apparently rare and hard to do at his age, as it's usually the front teeth that get chips or are even knocked out). And last, but not least, he got to pick his favorite color toothbrush to take home with some sample toothpaste and some of that blue rinse stuff.

All in all, it was a good visit. Even the tech and the dentist talked about how well he did (though they may say that to everyone for all I know). He was given good marks for his brushing, though he was admonished to quit biting his nails. When the tech asked, very nicely, if he could try to learn to stop biting his nails, his reply was very simple.

Um, no.

Yes, that's really what he told her.

But other than that, he did great. He even got to pick a toy out of the "treasure box," though I practically had to choose for him. There were too many options and he was taking entirely too long. But he was happy in the end, and he's been talking about what a great job he did at the dentist all day long!

Quoted & Noted

One of the things that came out of Xander's evaluation meeting last week was actually kind of humerous. It was a little verbal sparring he does with some of the teachers and staff at school, and one that he doesn't ever try with us at home!

The teachers tell us that there are times when he doesn't want to be touched or bothered. Typically, he's laying on the ground and resisting any attempt to be either verbally or physically assisted to the correct location (either inside the classroom, or often when it's time to go into school from either car line or recess).

He lays there and tells them "Ouch!" over and over again, saying it louder every time their hands get closer to him. Little sneak.

We definitely hear the "Ouchie!" followed promptly by "Okay?" from him at home. Both twins have a high pain tolerance, but he likes to acknowledge every bump or scrape with this little script. He's heard me say it often when he does something that should hurt. So he's taken to saying it every single time he remotely bumps into anything, even if it probably didn't hurt. It's just one of his little scripts.

But he never says just "Ouch!" and never in the context of leaving him alone. At least not for us. Funny how he adapts, trying out new tricks on each of us!

Quoted & Noted

A few days ago, the boys and I were out driving. We were on our way to pick up Mommy's medicine (for the lovely strep throat she managed to get) at the local grocery store pharmacy. Typically, when it's just me and Connor, we walk inside. This particular day it was all three boys, so we opted for the drive-through window, which meant taking a different road.

Connor thought he knew where we were going.

"Wait!" he cried from the back seat.

"What?" I asked, continuing to drive to our destination.

"You didn't turn," he said, very matter of factly. "That was the way to Poppy John's!" Not Papa John's, mind you, but "Poppy John's." That part was cute. But there was also tone, and perhaps even a little eye roll mixed in, which wasn't so cute.

"Yes, baby, you're right," I told him. "But THIS is the way to the pharmacy."

He was not pleased. Here he was thinking pizza, and Mommy was wanting medicine. Clearly I had my priorities all wrong.

"When I Get Bigger ... "

If I had a dollar for every time my five-year old says this, I would be a very wealthy woman right now. Because he says it a lot!

Sometimes it's rational. Things like, when I get bigger I'm going to drive a car or go to the big kid school. Or I'm going to have chicken fingers whenever I want (we drove past the restaurant today, but didn't stop, much to his dismay).

Sometimes it's a stretch. For instance, when he gets bigger he's going to build an upside down house or build a big bridge to jump his car off of and crash. Or maybe he's going to build us a great big house, you know, after he tears down the one we live in right now (with no thought about where we would live in the interim, of course).

And other times it's just plain ridiculous. He's going to build a car with shooters on it so he can shoot all the bad guys. He's also not going to stop at stop signs because he doesn't have to.

My five-year old, he's chatty and funny. He has more personality than any little kid I know. And an imagination and vocabulary that I never would have expected at this age. The kid is going to drive his teachers crazy in school. Always talking, always absorbing every little bit of information from everywhere, and always an opinion about everything.

And never quite content with where he is right this moment, always looking toward the next big or fun thing.

"The Dirty House"

With the recent economy, Daddy has been doing more renovation work and less new construction. Steadier income, less risk. One of his projects is for an extended family member, renovating a house that hasn't been updated in decades.

The few times we've been over there either to visit or to help Daddy, Connor refers to it, quite appropriately at the moment, as "the dirty house."

It's a sprawling 1970s ranch that was built with too many rooms and not enough open spaces. So some walls are coming down, some doorways are being reconfigured and the whole thing is getting a major facelift - wallpaper removal, paneling removal, drywall installation and repair, new paint, new flooring and updated bathrooms, and some other cosmetic fixes.

Right now, the inside is in pieces. And like any house under construction, it's dirty.

But all in all, it's a nice house. Solid construction, all brick, with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, and an attached two-car garage. It has a big, professionally built sunroom and a concrete patio off the back that opens to a large, fenced yard with big shade trees.

It's in a good neighborhood full of similar houses, with good schools very close by (and actually zoned for that neighborhood) and a big city park within walking or strolling distance. It has possibilities. Maybe even for our family one day.

But, for now, it's simply "the dirty house," as Connor calls it.

Hopefully he will reconsider the name when Daddy is finished with the remodel project, especially if we do decide to move in there one day. Can you just hear him telling his friends to come over and play at the dirty house? Because I can. And I can also picture his friends' little faces at such a request.

The Bottomless Pit

Also known as my five-year old son.

Last night for dinner we had a rare treat, something we haven't had in quite a while. We grilled ribeye steak outside. And no, it's not warming up any in our part of the world, we just wanted to.

So my five-year old is incredibly excited by this turn of events. He LOVES steak. He danced around the whole time saying "Yummy steak!" over and over again. He then proceeded to eat an entire ribeye, you know, an adult-size portion. He even ate the less choice parts, the ones we often save as scraps for our puppy. He also ate mashed potatoes and green peas and roll. And then he wanted seconds, on everything. Which he also proceeded to eat, all except a few peas, which are his least favorite of the meal.

Today for lunch, he was equally ravenous. He had two whole pieces of ham, about 25 or 30 Stax potato chips, and an entire can of mandarin oranges. And he was still hungry. He had some more chips and a big cup of milk.

And then an hour later, when it was time for his brothers to have their lunch after school, he was hungry again. As I start putting out their plates, he comes walking up and says,

"I love applesauce. I like grapes. And yogurt. And graham crackers."

Yes, you like just about everything. We know.

"Mommy, I'm hungry!"

And that's why our grocery bill is out of control. Bottomless pit, also known as the five-year old.

Quoted & Noted

"Hey, Mom!" my five-year old shouts.

Yes?

"Who's birthday is next?" he asks. We've just celebrated Daddy's birthday this weekend, complete with take-out from BW3's and homemade (out of a box) lemon cupcakes with whipped cream cheese icing.

Buster's birthday is next, I tell him after a moment or two of thought. It's in March.

"Awww," he whines. "There won't be any cake!"

And there you have it. The sole purpose of other people's birthdays, at least to him, is cake.

"Who's after that?" he persists.

Uncle Brian. Mommy. Aunt Kelly. We name off several. He still isn't hearing what he wants. Can you guess where this is going? He's trying to determine how long until his own birthday. Because for that, there will be cake and presents. All for him.

Quoted & Noted

"We're gonna have to cut some more branches," my five-year old tells me seriously.

And I'm thinking, excuse me, what? Sometimes he helps Josh or Pappy in the yard with things like that, but nothing that I can remember recently. I have no idea where this is going.

But then he looks over at our Christmas tree.

"We need to cut some branches," he repeats. I still look at him blankly, though I think I see where this is going. He is exasperated. How could his mother be so clueless?

"How else is Santa gonna fit our presents under there?"

I think someone is a little excited for Christmas this year. And even though I keep explaining that Santa could perhaps just set the presents around the tree, he keeps coming back to cutting more branches.

Clearly he's expecting quite a bit. Or maybe just something really, really big.

No Alarm Clock Needed

Every morning at our house we are awakened by three little boys. The two little guys are still trapped in their rooms, because one of them likes to get up at an ungodly hour (usually around 6 a.m.) and the other one is notorious for playing with our computer downstairs (as in turning the printer on and off repeatedly, for hours at a time if given the chance). They're not trustworthy just yet.

Connor, on the other hand, has earned the right to get himself up. He can go to the bathroom on his own, can get his own milk (if we fill it up and leave it in the refrigerator the night before), and can amuse himself pretty quietly until we're ready to wake up. He even knows to lock his bedroom door behind him to keep his brothers from destroying (okay, just seriously messing up) his room. He also has "big boy" items that brothers are not allowed to play with unsupervised, like pencils and crayons and safety scissors. So he knows to lock the door.

The bad news is that lately he's felt the need to "free" his younger brothers when he gets up. So they come noisily down the hall, often play with our locked bedroom door knob trying to come in and bounce on our bed, and are, in general, needy. They still need help going potty, getting out of their overnight pull-ups and into big boy underwear, and getting milk. They also require the television to be on if we're going to try to sleep any longer, and none of the boys have remote privileges just yet.

Yesterday, Connor let his brothers up. And for some reason he forgot to lock his door, or at the very least, pull it closed. He then proceeded to let his little brothers pull a fast one on him. He found himself on the outside of his locked bedroom door, with both brothers inside, happily bouncing on his bed and making a mess out of his room - without him! Books were all out of the bookcase and all over the floor. His desk had drawers pulled out and things everywhere, and he was miserably outside the door.

So Daddy and I woke up to his saying, quite loudly and firmly, "Xander! Xander! Xander, please unlock my door! Please, Xander!"

Yeah, that wasn't happening. So he just kept shouting at them, even if he was trying to be polite about it, until finally I got up to get them all downstairs and started on their day, safely locking Connor's door behind us as we left.

No alarm clocks needed at our house these days, let me tell you.

Quoted & Noted

When Connor was first learning to talk, he had some pretty cute "words" that he liked to say to us. My favorite of his was probably "tuck" for "truck," because he was fascinated with them and said it all the time.

And since Xander is the one who's coming up with new words these days, trying more and more to talk to us, he is the one who's starting to say those cute things. I hear my new favorite at just about every meal. Picky little things that the twins are, they eat the same things a lot.

"More!" Xander both says and signs to me, looking down at his plate.

"More what?" I ask, knowing exactly what he wants and where this is going.

"Eat!" he says and signs, then combines the two using both words and signs. "Eat more!"

"Eat more what?" I ask, still knowing.

"Apple-some! More apple-some!" he says, with a big grin for me because he knows that he is telling me what I want to hear and what I have been asking.

It's not perfect, of course, because what he really wants is "applesauce," but it's there. Apple-some. And I know what it means. He says it consistently, as he's digging his spoon into the empty spot on his plate where the applesauce recently was.

Small steps, but big moments. Appropriate signs and words. Attempts at new words. Responding to direct questions with appropriate answers. All good things.

Quoted & Noted

If you're wondering what our day was like, Connor has summed it up for you.

"Mommy is at work, and Daddy is at the big-kids school," he says in his serious voice. "And Grammy and Pappy came over here to play and watch babies! Aunt Kelly, too, but only for 10 minutes!"

That's what he told me when I asked him about his day tonight before bed. Though he fibbed a little, because Aunt Kelly was here for a few hours. Grammy had also mentioned that he said the first part to her earlier in the day, about Mommy being at work and Daddy being at the big-kids school. That part, at least, was true. I did work, and Josh's EMT class is on Saturdays. Sort of a big-kids school, I guess.

If you haven't noticed, Connor is a bit obsessed with school lately. We count down the nights he has left before he goes back to preschool (both before it started and now between the days when he actually goes). And when we drive past a couple of "big-kids schools" in our daily routine, he always thinks he's ready to go there, too.

"I go there when I get a little bit bigger. I go to the big-kids school and I ride the school bus!"

Let's hope he's always this excited about school, though I highly doubt it. He may be like our cousin Jason, who Pappy likes to tell on. He apparently went to the first day of kindergarten and told the teachers that he had learned enough and he was quitting!

Quoted & Noted

For the past few days - all day and every day - my four-year old has been asking me about his upcoming trip to the beach. He knew that the big day was getting closer, and today it finally arrived.

It was the first thing he asked about when he came crawling down the stairs, still half-asleep and not really ready to be awake just after 8 this morning.

"I go to the beach today?"

Yes, baby.

He asked about it every five minutes. He didn't want to eat breakfast this morning, assuming of course that he would be having a meal on his way. When I told him Grandma and Grandpa weren't coming until after his brothers came home from school this afternoon, then he was ready to ship them off to school right that minute. You know, at 9:30, even though school doesn't start until 10:35.

While his brothers were in school, we ran a few errands. We picked up some library books, which usually takes a while, what with the flipping through board books and working the puzzles in the children's section. Not today. He was in a hurry. Grandma and Grandpa were on their way.

We also had to stop at the grocery store. He didn't want to go, but once inside the toy aisle called his name and we did browse for a few minutes, looking that things he kept trying to persuade me to buy (no such luck, kiddo). But then he suddenly remembered what day it was, and it was time to get moving again.

"We go pay now and go home. Grandma and Grandpa are coming."

This afternoon, baby, after school. Around 2 p.m.

So we finish our errands, head back home and take Buster on a much needed walk around the block (Connor is, of course, riding his Big Wheel). Then I ask him about lunch. Yet again, he's not hungry. He's going to eat later, you know, on the way. I convince him to have a little something, since he won't be on his way for a few hours yet.

Grandma and Grandpa pull in the drive at maybe 10 after 2. They're late, as far as Connor is concerned. He pulls his usual trick of hiding under the pool table for just a minute, and then he's bouncing around ready to go. As in, RIGHT NOW. It's time to go to the beach.

Of course, he's not really going until Saturday morning, which I've tried to explain numerous times. He's going to the lake today so that Grandpa doesn't have to drive two hours north the day before he drives 12 hours south. And Grandma is still terribly afraid he will cry if we try to drop him off at their house and then go back home without him, so that's not an option either.

So, much to his displeasure, they stayed to visit with us and his brothers for a while. We eventually packed and loaded him into Grandpa's truck. I could barely get a "Bye-bye, see you later!" out of him, so excited and ready to go was my son. But as the truck is backing out, I hear him pipe up from the back seat.

"Have good time. Be good. Take care of babies. You keep them off the stairs, 'kay?"

Such a sweet little boy, don't you think? And so very considerate of his little brothers. And laugh out loud funny. Where does he come up with this stuff?

Quoted & Noted

"Mom?" my four-year old asks.

"Yes, baby," I answer, for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

"I go back school soon?"

"In September, just a few more weeks." I tell him. And, as an afterthought, "Brothers start school next week."

"Hmm," he says, clearly thinking hard. "I start school next week. Babies wait 'til September."

Um, it doesn't quite work like that since the twins are in a different kind of preschool. But I love the enthusiasm! Mommy's right there with you, kid, I promise! I'm ready for everyone to be back in school.

Quoted & Noted

It's been a while since I've done one of these, but this one was worth the wait.

We have three little boys in the house, and only one is actually talking in words and sentences. Connor, at four, never stops talking. Xander, of course, does love to say his letters and count to 12 (don't ask me why it's to 12 and not 10 or 20, I have no idea). He also tries to say a word or 20 here and there, but it's very random and sporadic and very rarely more than one word at a time. And Sawyer, well, he speaks a language we don't understand yet. Mostly he pushes, pulls and points.

All three effective, in their own way. But it's the four year-old who speaks that I'm thinking of tonight. We're noticing a new pattern with him, one that's equal parts cute and annoying.

So, let's say he's done something good and you compliment him on a job well done. Maybe you say, "You did a great job sharing with your brothers!" or something to that effect. He will respond with the appropriate, polite and very cute, "Thank you!" But, before you've had time to think of, much less say an actual response, he immediately follows with, "Say you're welcome, Connor!" in a rather smug and superior little voice.

See, cute. And also extremely annoying.

Let's take another example. Perhaps he's thinking about a fun day in the pool tomorrow. He might start with "We go swimming in our pool tomorrow!" He expects an immediate response, just as he always does when he speaks. If you're not quick enough, he will promptly tell you what you should have said. "Say, yes, Connor, we'll swim in our pool tomorrow."

Or, he sneezes. And you're not quite fast enough with the "Bless you!" for his taste (meaning you didn't start saying it as he was actually sneezing). He'll turn to you with a look of supreme agitation and say, "Say, bless you, Connor!"

And, well, you get the idea. It doesn't matter what he asks or what he says. He expects a response. An immediate response. And if you're the slightest bit too slow, he's just going to tell you what you should say. In a completely matter-of-fact and without a single doubt in his mind kind of way.

Of course, I have to see the irony of my life. We wish and hope and pray for speech with our two youngest boys who have so far struggled with language. And then we have our four year-old, who speaks as though his breathing depends upon it and who has now gone so far as to begin anticipating responses and saying those, too.

Maybe he can teach his brothers. Clearly he knows it all.

Quoted & Noted

The boys and I are sitting around the dining room table, eating a late (as usual) breakfast. Our good puppy is outside, barking at the neighbors dogs yet again. They're small and yappy, he's big and territorial. He sounds fierce, even though he's not really.

Connor is complaining about Buster, telling me that I need to tell him to "hush," which I frequently do. Today I am just tired and trying to read a section of the paper during breakfast. I don't feel like getting up to go "hush" the dog, so after saying it's okay and trying to let it go, I then attempt to ignore my son's repeated requests. You know, where he says the exact same thing over and over again in his most annoying of voices. After about the tenth repetition, I have had it and simply tell him to hush.

He looks at me with big, disapproving eyes and shakes his head a little.

"Mommy no hush me. Mommy hush Buster," he says, quietly but firmly, refusing eye contact. I merely look at him. He knows better than to tell Mommy "no" about anything. We've had this conversation many, many times. Mommies are allowed to say no, children are not (at least not in that tone of voice). He peeks a glance at me, but quickly looks away and continues shaking his head. "Not nice to hush Connor," he mutters under his breath as he goes back to his breakfast.

Perhaps not. But, contrary to popular belief in our house, four-year olds don't rule the world.