This phrase has become one I dread.
I thought I learned my lesson at the beginning of this school year when Brother came home with his t-shirt in shreds.
I had remembered to cut the tag that was at his collar, but I forgot about the other tag at the bottom side of the shirt that includes the washing instructions...
I actually didn't know that a t-shirt could be torn into a spirally-mummy-taped-kind of mess just by pulling at a tag.
I want to warn all parents of children with Fragile X or Autism or sensory issues: IT CAN!
Brother was quite proud, though, when he got of the bus to show me he had tied his shirt all by himself...
I really regret not taking a picture of that creation... it's hilarious looking back on it now.
We had a to impress upon him at that time that he was NOT allowed to remove the tags from his clothing by himself and needed to ask his parents, teachers or caregivers to cut the tags off for him.
He's done pretty OK with this rule, but there have still been several pieces of clothing that have had to have my loving care and stitched a bit where he tried to start ripping off the tag and either got caught before it got bad, or he had some kind of realization that he should follow the rule he was given.
He is also very particular about his pants and how they fit. Bless his heart, if he could wear leggings I know he would be in heaven, but I have to draw the line somewhere.
So for those of you who have seen him in his extremely skinny jeans you now know that it is a sensory thing and not a fashion statement.
I can't even remember how many pairs of pants I have bought for him to try to get him to wear some better fitting pants, but nothing is as great as a good, worn in, fits like a glove (literally) pair of jeans. I mean I have patched both the knees and the butt of his pants! I think they may have to actually disintegrate before he will be willing to wear another pair of jeans.
Just before Marc and I left on our short trip Brother revealed to me that he had tried to remove a tag from his jacket...
I tried to not get mad because I know why he does this and I should have remembered to remove the tag. When he brought it to me with his words, "Mom, I tried to take my tag off..." I gave a dramatic sigh and reminded him of the rule and then went to retrieve my sewing box.
He felt bad. It is really tough for him to fight something that is so ingrained in him.
I try to remember all the things I need to be aware of with our children in order to have a, somewhat, normal life. I have to be prepared for everything that has, can and may go wrong.
|This picture is one he asked me to send to his Nana Judy. It takes a substantial amount of effort to get him from his bed in the mornings and this how he looks when he finally begins to creep from his bed still half asleep.|
So I had to laugh yesterday while in the hotel room on my own I took the time to paint my fingernails and toenails... like an actual 2 coats of polish plus a clear coat! Then I sat in front of the TV and waited for the nail polish to dry so I could actually pick up something without it is sticking to the tacky polish.
I was literally sitting and watching the paint dry...
You know how people use that phrase to express their boredom?
I was watching the paint dry and sat there in complete awe realizing that I was just sitting there with my fingernail polish still out, the polish remover sitting out and the cotton balls on the bed.
I wasn't bored.
I was amazed.
I didn't have to do anything after I was done painting my nails.
I was just able to sit there.
I didn't have to worry about Sister screaming at me because she could smell the nail polish remover.
There was no Baby to try opening the nail polish to pour it on the floor or paint it on herself.
Brother was not going to clumsily wander into the room and spill anything or somehow magically stick cotton balls to my sticky nails.
I laughed to myself as I realized that I live everyday in the state of alarm... it's funny really.
Funny how painting your nails can feel so freeing.
The song that Brother loves to listen to and sing out loud every day came to my mind, "Man! I Feel Like A Woman!"
That is funny on so many levels.
I also that Sister will come running into the kitchen from her room to angrily inquire, "Are you chewing gum?"
"Yes," I bashfully reply knowing what she is about to demand.
"Spit it out! I hate gum!"
I try sometimes to sneak a piece of gum in the car when we are on a family outing and she immediately yells, "Do you have gum?! Get it out! I hate gum!"
It's even gotten to the point that she will try to get after me even if I am just chewing food... she's relentless.
Marc and I have to hold in our laughter until after she leaves the room, because it's just so funny to think she can hear/smell gum from another room!
I think I have chewed an entire pack of gum in one day while I've been here... it's quite liberating!
So, yesterday, I sat and watched the paint paint dry and chewed gum at the same time.
It was blissful.
|Marc took these pictures of our Baby and her chocolate cookie mustache and her modeling my had out on back porch. |
She's quite the ham...
Baby always seems to need something from me right at the moment I can't help her, like when I'm in the middle of preparing raw chicken to cook for dinner or I am hand mixing the pizza dough, or when I'm sitting on the toilet.
So yesterday I sat watching the paint dry, chewing gum and not having to repeat phrases of "just a minute," "I can't right now," "hold on sweetie," or "just a sec."
It was so weird.
This is a vacation to me.
And that, my friends, is what makes me laugh so hard.
I love that being a mom helps you to appreciate the little things, the little people, the little moments, the little triumphs and the little blessings.
I also love that being a mom gives me so much great comedic material to write about!