While exiting a tram at a local attraction, Ellie said to me, “Mom, if you have a baby in your tummy, do you have to go to the dentist for the dentist to pull it out? How does the baby get in there anyway? Do you go to Target, buy a pretend baby, get it batteries, then put it in your tummy so when it starts working, it comes out real? And, does it hurt?”.

After my response, which I won’t bore you with, because it was perfectly thought out, succinct, and age appropriate, I did tell her that having a baby can pinch a little. She took this time to inform me that she will NEVER. EVER. Have a baby. And, that she will NEVER. EVER. Ride a school bus.

Duly noted.

Me: Ellie honey, there’s an appraiser coming over to the house this morning. He’s going to be here for just a few minutes and maybe take some pictures.

Ellie: Is it the plumber?

———————

Overheard conversation with Ben to cat as he was petting her head. “Yeah, that’s right. I wanted a bird, but instead we got you.”

———————

Ben to Ellie: I brought a pizza home for dinner, but you and Mommy can’t have any. It’s all for me.

Ellie to me (rolling her eyes hopelessly): Mom, we just can’t listen to him when he’s like this.

———————

Me: Ellie, do you think your butterfly, Izzy made it to her family reunion in Mexico yet?

Ellie: I don’t know Mom. It’s a long way. I’ll need to look at a map when we get home to see.

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Ellie: Mom, I picked some fox tails and want you to hold them to keep them safe. If you get hungry, it’s okay to chew on the ends, if you want. Oh, wait. Not the FUZZY ends.

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Ellie: Daddy! Don’t open the door when I’m going potty! I need “privace”!

Ben: So sorry.

Ellie: Dad! I finished putting my dudes in the potty. I’m ready for you to wipe my bumpus!

—————-

Me: Ellie, you really like to watercolor, hu?

Ellie: Yep. It’s really pretty complicated.

My good friend Flannery over at Living on the Spectrum: The Connor Chronicles, awarded me with a meme. I’ve never received one nor do I know what one is, but she compared it to a fungus and well, I’m honored to have her fungus. Apparently, said meme involves telling you seven things you don’t know about me, that may or may not be pivotal in your admission to ever knowing me at all.

1) I drove a fork lift for two summers to help with college expenses (i.e. quarter beers at the Gin Mill). Toward the end of summer number two, I was introduced to a fine young man whom I was to train for my position. While going through the safety points, he copped attitude. I apologized and asked him if he had already been trained to do this. He replied, “If you can do this, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it covered.”

I handed him the keys, and drove my little warehouse scooter back to my office. Fifteen minutes later there was loud crashing. I remained seated at my computer. My boss came in with a very bulbous vein protruding from his forehead. When I explained what happened, he promptly released fine young man (who was merely a temp) from his duties. Sweet justice.

2) I have a horrible fear of opening pressurized tube dough.

3) I grew up on a farm. I raised a lamb, neglected by its mother at birth (during a harsh winter) to adulthood. The lamb was really like a puppy and knew when he saw the school bus, I would be home to feed him. One morning he actually squeezed through the fence, followed me to the bus stop, and jumped on the bus. Guess what song I own the copyright to? “Jesse’s Girl”. I digress. When my lamb reached adulthood he became an ungrateful bastard, backed up ala Spanish bull style, charged me, bowled me over, knocked the wind out of me, and returned to his original position to trample me. I am now a city girl.

4) My secret fantasy career is to be a backup singer.

5) On Saturday nights, as a kid, I lived for “The Love Boat” and “Fantasy Island”. See, I grew up on a farm.

6) I won a perfect score at a state music competition for a solo I sang in grade school. I can no longer carry a tune in a bucket. No lie. I sing like Elaine Benes dances. It doesn’t stop me from doing it, but I suck.

7) I saved someone’s life once.

I’m glad there’s not an 8 because I would have to confess that I have yet to find a pair of underwear that doesn’t make it’s home in my crack. At least one cheek is always exposed beneath my clothing. This might be the main reason for my sometimes abrasive moods.

So’s not to break the award chain, I’d like to bestow this coveted prize to my friend Cari over at bubblegumonmyshoe.com. I love her.

Well say, wax up those credit cards and come by to do a little book shopping. Our book is out and you’re allowed to buy as many copies as you’d like. Again, let me remind you, it’s the only time in my life my name will ever be associated with the words “wit” and “wisdom”. So, you’ll wanna get on that band wagon. Click right here to make the magic happen.

Thanks Big Daddy and Lynn for inviting me to join you. My fellow blogger friends who are also parents to kids on the Autism Spectrum really make me laugh, give me cyber fungi, make me laugh some more, and remind me I’m not alone in the craziness. I’m really glad I’ve found all of you.

[Cue sappy music. End scene]

On August 23, 2011, Ellie found a monarch caterpillar at her friend Katie’s house. Ellie named it Izzy, put it in a jar and brought it home. According to Google, these caterpillars only eat milkweek. Um. Ok. Izzy owes her life to Google images.

That afternoon, we “procured” milkweed from an undisclosed location [my apologies to the Mom with three children whom I frightened by wielding a scissors so closely to the swings which should NOT be located so closely to the butterfly garden...see what happens?!].

Izzy was a VERY HUNGRY CATERPILLAR (the results of which created astounding, mounding, and pretty gross results…Eric Carle is a leaver out of details). On September 2, we transferred Izzy from her jar to a high-rise butterfly condo. The next morning she was a chrysalis, technically a pupa in a chrysalis. Give me a break. I was an art major.

This documentary takes place on September 13.

On Wednesday of last week, I threw my back out. It’s a recurring theme in my life made more dramatic by my aging body. Simultaneously, I got a sinus/double ear infection. The interesting part is that the combination of these ailments made me a walking fire bomb.

With shoulders pointing north/south and hips pointing in more of a NNW/SSW direction, and while taking baby steps, I had to constantly hold onto the wall in the event a sneeze or cough emerged. Bracing myself was key to not herniating all discs in my spine. Or peeing my pants. I’m here to tell you, I wasn’t always successful.

As a relatively new member to the Perimenopause Society, I couldn’t tell if my fever actually broke, or if was just having a three day long hot flash. Yeah, probably hot flash. While being sick is not fun, I did catch up on a bit of reading. A very little bit. For when I put my reading glasses on and reached for my book, the age spots on my sweaty forearm magnified and looked as though they might sprout mustaches and light up cigars. Something tells me, I just might give up reading.

So, after a week with our beloved new pet, Mabel, Ellie has informed me that if SHE were a cat, she would look a bit different. Here is the list. In order of importance. And I quote.

I would NOT have ear folds. They look like they hurt.

I would NOT have a tube underneath my tail where stuff comes out.

I would NOT have talons.

I would NOT have bitey teeth.

I can’t argue with reason.

Dear Internet,

Please meet Mabel. She is the small furry thing wrapped in the blanket burrito. I know, the last thing you need right now, Internet, is more cat videos and photos. Believe me, the last thing I need is someone else to clean up after. Yet, here we are.

It’s simple really. Daughter wants kitten. We procrastinate for a few months (refer to post title). We tell her that she actually has to pet a kitten before we get one. Daughter’s Mother must have a full psychiatric evaluation. We get daughter a kitten.

Funny thing. Ellie could tell you what neurons, the pituitary gland, and the hypothalamus can do, but it took three days for her to remember Mabel’s name. To help her, I made up a rhyme and sang it with a voice like Diana Krall. What?! That’s what it sounds like in my head. Several times a day, I say, “Mabel Mabel set the table only if you think you’re able”. Then, for fun, I would leave off the end for Ellie to fill in. She remembered about 50% of the time. My favorite was,

Me: Mabel Mabel set the table only if you think…
Ellie: …you’re ready for dessert.

Please pass the M&Ms. Oh, and the number of a good psychiatrist.