Adderall, Baby Guy, and the Doggy Man Debacle

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Carter (#3) has always been obsessed with "super-dupers," his term for super heroes. At two, he insisted on wearing his Superman pajamas everywhere--home, church, shopping--and I'd have to dress him in Clay's matching underoos long enough to throw his in the wash. At four, he began telling everyone who would listen about "baby school" (which took place, evidently, in the Wal-Mart building that preceded the Super Wal-Mart), where babies, himself included, had been taught to fly, do king fu, and fight crime. At six, he scowls every time I kiss him and whispers "Super-dupers don't like kisses!" I've tried to convince him that super-dupers' powers actually stem from mommy kisses, or that a real super-dupers would NEVER leave a lady in distress kiss-less, but to no avail.

Anyhow. When Carter was almost two, he accidentally got a dose of Jamison's Adderall. (In the early morning chaos, the spoonful of applesauce containing the pill got shoved into the wrong gaping, bird-like mouth.) After calling poison control, we settled in for what we knew (from experience, unfortunately--the same thing had happened to Clay a couple years earlier) would be a very long day.

When Clay had taken the medicine, he had slept the morning away, then lapsed into inconsolable, restless fussiness until bedtime.

Not Carter.

Carter was unusually quiet all morning, until he walked by the deck door leading to nowhere. He began to giggle, a weird, gurgly laugh.

"Baby Guy," he said, pointing to his reflection in the glass door. "Baby Guy flying."

"Guy" or "man" was Carter's way of identifying a superhero. I looked at his reflection, which did look kind of like it was floating over the lawn.

"Mmm," I said. Because what are you supposed to say when your toddler is tripping out on amphetamines?

Carter babbled happily about Baby Guy for the next half hour. Then suddenly, he began shrieking.

"What?" I cried, running to where he stood in the dining room.

"Doggy Man! Doggy Man!" he gibbered, pointing at the sky.

I looked at the sky (which did not, by the way, contain any flying dogs), then back at Carter. Evidently

"Doggy Man" had swooped out of the recesses of Carter's subconscious mind to do battle with his arch-enemy, Baby Guy.

I scooped Carter up and tried to distract him with an episode of "Caillou." No dice.

Baby Guy and Doggy Man battled for the rest of the afternoon, Carter swinging from laughter to shrieks, depending on who was winning. Doggy Man seemed to be getting the upper hand, and by three o'clock, I was desperate. I formulated a plan: we were going to outrun Doggie Man. The moment Jamison got off the school bus, I bundled the kids into the van and began to driving toward the McDonalds.

In Ashland.

Doggy Man trailed us for a while, but by the time we got to Blueberry, Carter had fallen asleep, giving everyone a two-hour, greenhouse-gas fueled reprieve from his psychic battle.

Of course he was awake the rest of the night, but Aaron (who still worked at Lakeview at the time, and had missed the early stages of the Doggy Man debacle) took the night shift. I roused occasionally to the sound of Aaron snoring, only half-conscious, on the couch, while Carter babbled about Baby Guy and Doggie Man, and the TeleTubbies responded "Eh oh," like they were sympathetic to his plight.

The moral of this story?

1. Don't feed your toddler amphetamines.

2. Ashland isn't so bad, after all.

3. You really WILL laugh about it five years from now.

The End

Swiftly Sailing Away...

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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When I first met my friend Margaret, I was about 12 weeks pregnant with my oldest child, and she was about 12 weeks away from becoming pregnant with her oldest child. :-) Twelve years and three concurrent pregnancies later (I outdid her with #4!), we are both entering a very different phase of life. She wrote a beautiful blog post the other day about those bittersweet milestones that catch us off-guard, and graciously gave me permission to re-post it here. Thanks Margaret!

Nostalgia can hit unexpectedly at any time. Today I had a "moment" when I decided to scrub our particularly disgusting bathroom. I don't want to admit how long it had been since the last scrub. Let's just say it took me twice as long as usual to return it to any semblance of sparkle.

After working on the counter and the shower with some elbow grease, I moved on to the tub. That's when I made my disturbing discovery. The plastic toys that lived in the tub waiting for a playmate were covered with a thin film of the floaty stuff.

Floaty stuff on the bathtub toys means that none of my kids have taken a bath in quite a while. No bath means showers are being taken. Showers mean older kids are taking them. I had a moment of silence.

Probably a whole minute later, I rinsed the toys, threw away a few older ones, bagged the rest, and placed them under the sink. Then I washed the porcelain and stepped back to observe my work. It was beautiful, shiny, sophisticated with Italian tile framing it on four sides. Three forgotten candles on elegant stands decorated the far corner. It finally looked like the sanctuary it was meant to be. I couldn't stand the sight of it.

I always tell my kids that I'm going to put a brick on their heads if they grow too fast. Maybe I should add that they're not allowed to be too old to play with their toys in the tub! Yadda yadda yadda. They're still growing and one day will rediscover a more adult bath with a few salts, no doubt.

No one else has noticed yet. I don't know what the kids' attitudes will be. Maybe the youngest will beg me to get the toys back out! Until then, I will wax nostalgic, even about a particularly gleaming, but lonely piece of porcelain.

-Margaret Lanning blogs at http://mnlannings.blogspot.com/

Adventures in the Utility Room, or, How to Make Homemade Laundry Detergent that Doesn't Leave Pajamas Smelling Like Pee.

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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A couple days ago on FaceBook I promised a friend my recipe for dirt-cheap, clean-green laundry detergent. (You can view the whole recipe here.) Then another friend inquired about how well it worked, and I was stymied. See, I know how to make homemade laundry detergent. I think it's a good idea. But I have four boys. And I live in red clay. I'm a double-dose of Tide with Febreeze and a heaping helping of color-safe bleach girl, myself.

Still, it seemed hypocritical to pass on a recipe I hadn't tried myself. So I gathered up my supplies and the pre-pre-pubescent boys (Jamison couldn't be bothered), and decided to test it out.

All you need is borax,

some sort of organic soap,

and washing soda. (Not to be confused with baking soda. Although if you're desperate, you can bake baking soda in a 400 degree oven for two hours, and it will turn into approximately the same thing.)

Lazy bloggers like me, take note--Blogger's photo uploads are way better than they used to be, but they still won't let you rotate your pictures once you've imported them. Humph.

The time-consuming part of this recipe is grating the soap. You can cut the soap in chunks and stick it in your food processor, but alas, I have never owned a food processor, and our last blender bit the dust years ago. So, we resorted to shredding the soap with a cheese grater.

Isn't Carter adorable, even when he's sideways?

Anyway. Shredding soap with a cheese grater takes a long time.

Eventually, the boys got impatient, and attempted to karate chop the soap. It did not end well.

Neither did their taste-test of the soap flakes. I mean, it LOOKED like shredded coconut. And the wrapper said it was made out of 100% pure coconut oil. Talk about deceptive advertising.

Still, we got it done. We grated the soap, mixed it with the washing soda and borax, and decided to put it to the ultimate test--the kids blue jeans!

I popped the jeans in the washer, put 2 Tbsp. of the detergent in the soap dispenser, and some white vinegar in the fabric softener dispenser to remove any soapy residue.

The result? *drumroll...*

Um...

Well, they were clean. And they didn't stink. But they looked just a touch dingy, and didn't exactly have that chemically-enhanced fragrance we've all come to know and love. 

Of course, any kid clothes coming out of my washing machine without a double-dose of Tide with Febreeze and color-safe bleach usually wind up a lot worse than these did. I tried Gain for a while, trying to save money, but all I was left with was pajama bottoms wafting the fascinating aroma of tropical breeze and pee. Not to mention a nifty rash.

So, I think this homemade laundry detergent deserves another try. Next time, I'll try three Tbsp. of the concoction, and see how it goes.

I'll keep you posted.

Clean up Your Act

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Over the last year or so, I've been trying to make restitution for the truckloads of disposable diapers I've contributed to local landfills (well, technically, my kids did most of that work) by becoming more environmentally conscious. (Notice I didn't say "environmentally responsible"--I've got a long way to go before I achieve the green seal of approval. But yay for progress!)

One of the best, simplest, most cost-effective changes I've made is making my own cleaning supplies. Who knew that you could clean almost anything with nothing more than vinegar, baking soda, and the occasional dab of olive oil or borax? I still shake my head thinking about how much money I spent on 409, how many faulty squirt bottles I went through in my attempts to keep my home nominally germ-free. Now, I just dump a couple inches of white vinegar into an industrial spray bottle, fill the rest with water, shake in a couple drops of essential oils (lime is my favorite), and voila! An all-purpose cleanser that works as well on windows as counter tops. (Just don't use this on unfinished wood. The particularly well-scrubbed parts of my birch table are still a little green--evidently vinegar has a pickling effect.)

If you want to try a couple super-simple recipes for green cleaning supplies, check out my eHow article on the subject. I particularly suggest trying the baking soda/vinegar combination for cleaning bathrooms--you just sprinkle the offending porcelain with baking soda, splash on some vinegar, and boom! Cleaning the toilet has never been so exciting.

Go on, try it! It's fun!

Attention: No Anacondas Allowed!

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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The cupboard is getting bare, so we stopped by the Poplar Market after church today to grab a few pizzas. It's a dark little grocery store with the same cramped aisles and pumpkin-orange counter I remember from my childhood, when my grandma would take me there to buy ingredients for her cakes. (It was one of the highlights of my week, because Neda, my great-auntie Gloria's best friend, always gave me a little bag filled with free candy.)

The front door of the Poplar Market sports the type of hand-printed sign you only find in the rural Midwest:

Attention!
No backpacks allowed in the store.
Please leave them in the entryway.

The assumption that would-be robbers should just leave their backpacks unattended in the entryway of the store has always cracked me up, but today Clay noticed it, too. He asked about it as we sat in the van, waiting for Aaron to come out with the pizzas.

Clay: "Mommy, what's that 'Attention' sign about?"

Jamie: "That's so people don't go around stuffing things in their backpacks."

Carter: "Yeah, a robber might bring a BOMB in their backpack!"

It doesn't seem to matter that I didn't let the little kids watch "Speed"--evidently, knowledge of bombs comes standard in kindergarteners nowadays.

Jamie: "Yeah, but if the bomb went boom, they'd go boom too."

At this point, I am getting disturbed.

Carter: "Or what if the robbers snuck in an ANACONDA in their backpack!"

This line of thought is strangely comforting.

Jamison: "Yeah!" *laughing* "Mommy, what would you do if there was an anaconda in the store?

Me: "Um..."

The funny thing is, I actually DO know what you're supposed to do if you're being eaten alive by a constrictor. Standard MK training. But since my children are unlikely to encounter many anacondas (anaconda? anacondi?) slithering down the cracked sidewalks of Poplar, Wisconsin, I decide not to fuel the fire.

Jamison: "I'd throw lots of food at it! The store would NEVER make you pay for food that you threw at an anaconda to keep it from eating you!"

Me: "Um..."

Clay: "Yeah, that's why I want some dead mouses. 'Cause snakes like to eat mouses, and I could throw them at the anaconda."

If I had only known, I wouldn't have spent so much on his Christmas presents.

Me: *thinking on my feet* "Just one question--how would somebody fit an anaconda in their backpack?"

Jamison: "I bet you could fit an anaconda into a camping backpack. Some of those are really big. You have no idea how big they are, mommy!"

The conversation continued along these lines until Aaron emerged, uneaten, with the pizzas.

So, fair warning to all you robbers out there--don't even THINK about trying to sneak an anaconda into the Poplar Market in your rucksack. Because my children are ready for you.

It will just have to wait in the entryway.

Heard at my House

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Clay: *frantic knocking* "Jamie! Jamie! You've gotta come help Grant!"

My ears perk up as Jamie growls at his annoying little brothers to go away.

Grant "Red alert! Red alert!"

I run to the great room to find out who's in life-threatening danger, only to discover it's Mario, of Mario Brothers fame. Clay dashes to Grant's side at the computer.

Clay: "Mommy, Jamison won't come help Grant defeat Birdo!"

Me: "So? He doesn't have to help Grant with computer games."

I begin making a peanut butter sandwich, to keep my foray into the chaotic universe of the great room from being a total waste. I heart peanut butter.

Clay: *assuming professional,911 operator tone* "Okay Grant. Listen to me. Don't die. Here's what you have to do. Pick up the eggs, and throw them at Birdo."

At this point, I am regretting last night's decision not to put the quash on the two oldest watching "Speed" with Aaron.

Grant: *frantic* "But I'm only four! I only go to school at Barnyard Buddies!"

Clay: "You can do it Grant! I have faith in you!"

I don't know if Mario got away from Birdo, but I got away with my peanut butter sandwich and a couple giggles.

Bread, Take 1

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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So, Chef Clay and I attempted to make bread last night.

We used the "basic" recipe from "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day," which is a great book. I think.

The recipe was super simple--water, yeast, salt, and flour, no kneading involved. But as we mixed it up, I became dubious. It looked...crumbly.

My grandma's bread dough never looks like that.

And the recipe clearly stated that the bread should be WET. Still, since I am hardly an expert in the art and science of bread making, I decided to give it a shot. We let it the dough rise, shaped it into a boule (round loaf), let it rise again, then popped it in the oven.

It came out hard as a rock. I mean, you could have stuck the thing in a catapult and used it in medieval warfare. But I sawed through the crust, and my kids ate it anyway.

They have better teeth than me.

Next time, I'll add more water.

The recipe had made enough for four loaves, but me being me, I forgot about the rest of the dough and left it-erm-rising--on the fireplace overnight. (Which is the obvious place to put a big bowl of bread dough, right?)

Carter was overjoyed to find his new play-dough this morning.

"What is THAT?" Jamison asked, wrinking up his nose as he was pulling his shoes on for school.

"Dead bread dough," I replied. I retreived the bowl from the fireplace and showed it to him

"Do you think you could bring it back to life?"

Um, I don't think so, kiddo. But we'll try again--K?

Thanksgiving Recipes

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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The holiday season (known by my family as "that month when Jenny cooks") is upon us, and for a girl who was born without the Betty Crocker gene, I do have a couple killer recipes up my sleeve. (I've gotta compensate for the rest of the year somehow.) I posted my holiday mainstays last year--wild rice with almonds and cranberries, an incredible side dish that can also serve as a hearty main dish for the vegans in your circle, and a brined, perfectly roasted turkey that my family swears is the best they've tasted (I even enjoy it, and I HATE turkey)--but I'll do it again, in case anyone wants to give them a try.

Here's a link to the turkey recipe.

And the wild rice.

The wild rice is almost ridiculously simple, and while brining a turkey takes a little bit of forethought and preparation, my method for roasting the turkey is worth a try. It produces a juicy, perfectly browned turkey without basting or cooking your turkey in a bag that could catch fire or leech chemicals into your food.

If I'm still feeling domestic in a few days, I may post my recipe for smothered salmon. It's absolutely incredible, as long as you don't ask how many calories it contains. :-P

The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Well, today is one of those days when the entire world shifts suddenly under your feet, and you're standing in an entirely different spot than you were the day before. This morning the whole family walked down the hill, and Aaron and I watched Carter, our third child, get on the schoolbus with Jamison and Clay for his first day of kindergarten.

No tears--just a lot of happy grins and kung-fu posing for the camera by an elated five-year-old.

Then, it was off to drop Grant, number four, at Barnyard Buddies for preschool and daycare. Daycare was one of those things that never made financial sense with more than one child at home, but it was clear that Grant would be bored out of his mind without something to keep him occupied while his brothers were at school. So three days a week, while his brothers are in school, Grant will be, too.

So for the first time in over a decade, I have large chunks of regularly scheduled time without my children. I don't feel bereft, and I don't feel elated. In fact, I'm not sure I feel much of anything right now--I may be in shock, LOL!

What will I do with all this new time? Well, right now I am sitting at the Red Mug (my absolute favorite coffee shop in the entire world!), sipping Ugandan coffee and nibbling on quiche. Soon, I will get to writing a series of articles examining diet pills. (Oh, the glamour!) I will organize my music for camp this weekend, and if I have time, I will start outlining an article I've been meaning to submit to one of my favorite magazines. I don't have a lot of hope of working on my novel today, but that's okay, it can wait until next week.

I'll have time.

Tis a Gift to be Simple...???

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss, Mystical Meanderings of a Love-Struck Soul

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I have a new life strategy.

I've been rather overwhelmed lately by a neverending morass of tiny things, both good and bad, that are battling for space in my life, my mind, and my schedule, including (but not limited to):

My parent's upcoming move. (Not tiny, but it definitely tops the list.)

School shopping.

Paid writing projects I should really be getting too.

My children's perpetually sticky faces.

Health care reform.

A car that needs a new battery.

Unpaid writing projects I should really be getting too.

The fact that I will be home maybe (maybe!) two weekends between now and the end of Spetember.

Brett Favre joining the Vikings. (Okay, so I couldn't care less about that, but it seems I'm the only one!)

Two music gigs needing to be pulled together.

Paper work.

Dental appointments.

More paperwork.

Vet appointments.

Did I mention school shopping?

And the list goes on. And on. And on.

So my new strategy? I am going to take a hint from that book I reviewed, outdo my Mennonite forebearers and become Amish. Yep, that's right. I'm chucking the computer and the cars, sending my entire wardrobe to the Salvation Army, and burning all my books except the Bible and a couple milktoast classics. I am going to wear broadcloth dresses and bake bread, get nice and plump from eating lots of meat and dairy products, and spend my leisure time making quilts and apple struedel. No more agonizing over ambiguous issues--I am going to let someone else tell me what to wear, what to do, what to think, etc. And if that someone else happens to be wrong, well, I was just being faithful, right?

No? *sigh* Well, I guess that won't work after all. And since I'm a little too Mennonite to join the military, and a little too married to join a convent, those options can be safely crossed off the list too.

I guess I'll just have to keep plugging away. But seriously, does life HAVE to be so complicated? Does EVERYONE live with this nagging sense of un-done-ness, of unrest, hanging over their heads? Or is this a function of my personality, a dissatisfaction with my own performance that keeps a fire burning under my soul until I reach some intangible bar that keeps moving farther and farther away?

Today, "peace" feels like a mirage, a cool, blue oasis hovering just out of reach above scorched sands. I walk toward it, every step burning my feet, but can never seem to get there.

Sheesh, I'm angsty lately! Sorry friends--you may have to bear with me for a little while. :-( I could just lie and be cheerful, but what's the point of that? Nope, this blog is a place for honesty. I love my life, I love my friends, I love my family, and I absolutely have faith in the love, peace, provision and ultimate plan of God. But that "peace of Christ that transcends all understanding" hasn't quite sunk into my soul yet.

Or maybe peace just isn't what we make it out to be. Did Jesus feel peaceful in the garden, or on the cross? Doubt it. At least not the kind of peace modern Christianity, or even not-so-modern Christianity like the Anabaptists, advertises.

A Few of my Favorite Things

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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On the off chance that any of you haven't seen this yet, I had to post it on my blog.



This is the way the world should be. Talk about brightening up someone's commute. :-)

Important Things

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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I know I haven't posted in a good long while, but I've been busy doing, erm, important things.


Actually, there's no way to underestimate how important taking a little time off to do frivolous things has been. Taking a vacation is like hitting the reset button on your life--it takes you outside your normal, day-to-day existence and gives you a glimpse of the bigger picture, the portrait-in-process that is your life.

A nugget of wisdom I've gleaned from a month or so of hard-core slacking:

Content writing is a great way to make money, but has been detracting from the rest of my writing. This is somewhat ironic, since I have been beginning to see some success on the magazine front. It was becoming harder and harder to churn out fifteen dollar articles about topics I care nothing about while receiving checks from publications I'm proud to be associated with. (BTW, thanks to my friend Lacey for mentioning my article that came out in the July/August issue of Plain Truth Magazine. She totally had my back on that one!) So, since we don't really need a ton of extra money right now, I decided to back off on the content writing and focus on other projects, things that will hopefully pay off in the long run but come with no guarantees. I can always kick the content writing back into gear later, if I want to or if the income becomes necessary. That is the beauty of writing for the internet.

So, I will be focusing more on submitting to magazines and working on my novel. The income is erratic and the writing more demanding, but the hard-won successes are much more satisfying. It's what I really want to be doing--writing things that really matter, instead of churning out articles of no real benefit to anyone, unless they really, really, really need help figuring out how to rent a helium tank.

The one exception to my internet writing hiatus is that I may post more articles on eHow. They don't pay anything upfront, but you can write about anything you want, don't have to obsess over meeting editorial standards, and you earn residual income every time someone clicks on an ad posted on any of your articles. Plus, it's kind of fun, and anyone can do it--no application needed. :-) I've written a few articles for eHow just because, but I've learned quite a bit about SEO (search engine optimization) from content writing, and am going to experiment to see if I can actually make some money on eHow. I wrote a new article for them last night--How to Clean Your House for Last-Minute Visitors--and it already seems to be getting more views than my other articles. So we shall see. Yay for SEO!

That's all for now--hopefully it won't be so long until my next blog post!

Mosquito Bites, Fan Mail, and Becoming a Better Sponge

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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I got my first real piece of "fan mail" today. I've gotten nice emails and encouraging comments about articles I've published in the past, but this was different, a plain white envelope addressed to Jenny Rae Armstrong, Maple, WI. (One of the distinct advantages of living in a small town--the postal workers know who you are, no street address needed! A California relative once sent a letter to my grandparents, addressed to "Ma and Pa Williams" in Poplar, WI. And of course in Poplar, everyone knows who Ma and Pa are!!!)

Inside the white envelope was a very sweet letter from the mother of an autistic boy, thanking me for the articles Jamison and I wrote for the Duluth News Tribune. She talked a bit about her son and the issues they have faced, threw in a gentle nudge about how she looks to God to get her through (I love it when people care enough to mention this--the DNT article was completely secular, so she would have no way of knowing whether I had a relationship with God to draw strength from or not), and then wrote that "You brought a little light into my day, and I wanted to thank you personally."

That is so humbling. Particularly since I wrote that article on a whim--I was learning about op-eds in my journalism class, a friend had emailed me a thought-provoking article that asked what individuals wished people knew about autism, and I thought "Hey, I could write an op-ed about that--and maybe earn a nice clip while I'm at it." It was a practical decision, not driven by any deep-seated motives, but it still had an impact on people, made somebody's life a little brighter for a few minutes.

It makes me want to write more.

It makes me want to publish more.

It makes me want to quit dinking around, and follow the advice I offered so freely in my comments on the article at Relevant about how women should live out their giftings. It makes me want to squeeze every drop out of life, pour myself out into the people and passions I love, and soak up every ounce of the blessings life pours back into me. I want enlarge myself, my heart, my soul, my mind, become a bigger, better "sponge," so I can soak up more and pour more out.

On those lines, it was much too pretty of an evening to stay inside stuck behind a computer screen, so Aaron and I grabbed some picnic food from the Poplar Market and took the fam to Amnicon Falls. (The third time this week for me! Seriously, I am addicted--it's always been one of my favorite spots in the entire world.) Here's the prettiest picture I took today. Enjoy!

Because a picture speaks a thousand words...

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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And because my life isn't always so nuts...

Not So Bad

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Okay, I'm feeling better now. Thanks for all you thoughts and prayers.

Jamison is doing better, too. He set a new record and slept until one in the afternoon today--14 hours straight--so I think he was just WAY sicker than he let on. And everyone tends to freak out when they're sick and overtired.

Myself included. ;-)

So thank you all for your love and support. I appreciate you all so very much--I can't even begin to tell you. My family and I have been incredibly blessed by you all.

Not Good

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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This was a hard night.

A good, though exhausting day, but a hard night.

Jamison was sick last night, so we didn't give him his medicine this morning.

Autism + no medicine = not good.

Since he was sick last night, and we had Jam rehersal today, we let Jamison hang out in his room in his jammies all day, watching movies, playing video games, and generally chilling out.

Autism + lack of social interaction = not good.

Autism + lack of routine = not good.

You wouldn't think letting a sick kid crash out in his room would be a problem. But it was. Did I mention:

Autism + illness = not good.

All of this culminated in the first full-fledged autistic fit I have seen in a couple years. A screaming, moaning, curled up on the bathroom floor fit. A repeating-phrases-over-and-over, crashing-his-head-against-the-training-toilet fit.

The old coping mechanisms kicked in. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the kitchen. I made him drink several gulps of water. I found a thick, heavy sleeping bag to wrap him up in, and the mere sight of it calmed him down.

I put the sleeping bag on his bed. I wrapped him up in it. He went to sleep.

But I cannot go to sleep. I am shaking, I am exhausted, but nobody has a sleeping bag to wrap me up in.

It used to be like this all the time. I don't know how I survived. I seriously don't know how I survived.

And what am I going to do if the preteen and teenage years hold more of this? I've already seen signs, some of the progress we made with his childhood self being overtaken by the preliminary surges of adolescent hormones.

We'll cope, I guess. We'll find some way to cope. But occassionally I wonder what will become of us.

What will become of him.

Can you tell I'm overtired???

Sometimes it seems overwhelming.

Sometimes it seems impossible.

Because in a way it is impossible. Jamison will not be "normal." Jamison will be who he is, a wonderful, unique, incredible kid.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm okay with that.

Sometimes I think I am.

Sometimes I know I'm not.

Sometimes I wonder if I can afford to be that honest.

But right now, I'm too tired to be brave.

And honesty is all I have left.

I'm not okay. Not right now.

But I will be.

I'm going to find a sleeping bag, to wrap myself up in and cry.

And wake up tommorow to face another day.

Pray for me if you think of it. Because I am tired.

Further Proof that Girls Love "Twilight" (as if you needed it...)

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Stolen from my cousin's facebook account:

That adorable "face in the hole" belongs to my cousin Keri Del, not Bella. Keri's much cuter, IMHO. Edward should be so lucky.

Edited to add: I just found out my brilliant, artistic cousin Deo frankensteined this together on Photoshop. :-) He's a graphic design whiz. There's more to those Tecker boys than basketball, in case you didn't know...:-)

Just a Tip...

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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When your three-year-old tells you that he has to poop in the potty, it's best to believe him, even if you're 99.9% certain he's just saying it to stall his nap.

Over and out.

Just For Fun

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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I've been a bit busy for blogging lately, but ran across this cute clip from the BBC comedy "Outnumbered" and thought I'd share. Awkward questions about Jesus--enjoy!

An Abbreviated Version of the First Two Weeks of Feb.

Posted by Jenny Rae Armstrong in Domestic Misadventures of a Distracted Miss

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Sat, Feb 1--It is decided that little brother Drew and his 7 1/2 months pregnant wife, Jacalyn, will move in with us to conserve resources and help everyone out.

Sun, Feb 2--We begin converting the disaster area formerly known as the toy room into a not-so-disaster area bedroom/nursery.

Tues, Feb 4th--Aaron's birthday. Drew and Jacalyn move in. Mom and Dad leave on business trip.

Fri, Feb 7th--Jacalyn gets sick and starts having contractions. We do a midnight hospital run where they start an IV, stop the contractions, and send her home.

Sat, Feb 8th--Jacalyn remains sick and starts having contractions. Drew and Jacalyn do another midnight hospital run. This time they send her home with meds, but she remains mildly miserable for the entire week.

Fri, Feb 13th--Mom flies home while dad flys to next business destination. We celebrate mom's homecoming with a delicious wild rice soup that Jac prepared, but when I go to the living room to turn the lights out that night, I find Jacalyn sitting in front of the fireplace because the heat "helps with the cramping." Uh oh.

Sat Feb 14th--My nephew very astutely decides that Valentine's day is a much better day to be born than St. Patrick's day, which was his due date. He was less clever, however, about turning the right way in the womb, so his mommy got wheeled in for a c-section at the last minute. His Auntie Jenny, upon realizing that baby Hallbjorn is 6 lb. 3 oz., 20 inches long, and in perfect health, begins to suspect her nephew is a lot smarter than the doctor who set the due date.

Sooo..... tommorow they should all be coming home, if everything goes as expected. (Which around here is an unexpected occurance in and of itself!) Our nine-person household will have the Brady Bunch beat!

Welcome home, Hallby!