Pajama Jam

Tonight there's a Pajama Jam at Jaysen's school. He told me this morning that he'd like to go. I am thrilled with this, as it took some goading with the promise of plastic baby cakes to get him to attend last year's Mardi Gras event.

He's excited.
He's super excited to show all of his friends his new Super Paper Mario pajamas.
The pajamas we just got, because he had to have them to replace the ones lost in the fire.
The pajamas that we got a whole size smaller than he really wears, because that's the biggest size they had. In any pajama.
The pajamas that are skin tight and show his belly.
The pajamas I am desperately trying to talk him out of wearing, with no luck at all.
He's excited.

Jaysen lacks the social awareness of knowing the difference of people laughing with him, or at him. He has "friends" who are backhandedly mean to him. Frenemies. I really don't think wearing these ill-fitting jammas are going to turn out well for him. I'm going to try and talk him into wearing a long hoodie or something, but I know he'll claim he's hot, and want to take it off. To show off his jammas that his kid brother could almost fit into. He has other Mario jammas, but these are new. And they're Super Paper Mario. And he lurvs them. He's even made sure they will be clean for tonight.

And it's not just the lack of social awareness. I remember being teased mercilessly as a kid. It can destroy a person. And it almost did. I don't want my son to be that kid. The reality is, he's going to get teased anyway. I don't want to give kids any more fuel than they already have. I do not want kids to whisper "hey- that's the kid who came to the Pajama Jam in third grade, with the jammas that his mom cut the elastic on so he could breathe...". It's like the kid with the holey underwear. Or the stinky kid. Ugh. I'm mortified already.

The silver lining?
The party is over at 8pm. When we get home, he'll already be in jammas.
Sweet.

I always feel like, somebody's waaatching meeee....

Jaysen loves to google.
If you look at his left hand in the above pic, you can actually see him stimming.
He will google anything on his mind... ad nauseam.
Usually it's something to do with Mario, or Baby Einstein.

I was really hoping we were getting out of the Baby Einstein thing, but he seems to have revisited it in full force lately. But that's not the point of this post.

Jaysen recently learned how to create folders on his computer. 'Cuz he's a geek like that. He made one for Baby Einstein, so he was googling pictures of Baby Einstein VHS tapes to archive, when he came across the muthaload.

His eyes bugged out at this picture:




I thought that pic looked reeeeally familiar, so I swooped in for a closer look.
Guess where he found it?
Yep- here at The Quirk Factor.

My son had pulled up my own blog in a Google search.
How's that for some tweakiness? I totally felt like I was staring straight down the rabbit hole.

Once I pointed it out, he recognized my Lenore girl (upper left corner) and wanted to see all the pictures I had on the blog (once he realized there was not a whole lot of exciting information about Baby Einstein). I showed him how to browse by category, and we spent about an hour just looking at the pictures and revisiting memory lane. We reminisced about family vacations, and the unfabulous times when "Mom cried" because of the loss of beloved furballs like Gacy and Tiki. He also busted me on some profane language- does that say crap? Crap?!? Uh, yeah. Sorry.

This wasn't the first time he's ever seen my blog, but it's the first time he's ever found it on his own, and taken any time actually going through it. It was different, because there was a sincere interest. Despite the fact I was "outed" by my own son, we had a really good time. Now I'm thinking of how I can get him to guest post.

A whole other reason to blog.

Happy Birfday to... ME!

It's my birthday!
And for those who are curious, I am twenty-seventeen.

Shut up and have some cake.

Rants of the day...

I've been informed of the demolition going well, as noted by Jaysen's call to me at work.

"Mom! You're missin' it! This is awesome! You're totally missin' it! You have to see dis!"

So there's that.

Then there's this.

Today was a monumental milestone.
I found my first gray hair.
Technically, it's translucent. Void of color.
But still. Two things went through my mind.
Number one - I've managed to make it to twenty-sixteen without a single gray. I guess it was bound to happen sometime.
And number two - WTF is this doing in my eyebrow?
Yes, my eyebrow.

Meh.

D is for demolition.

Tomorrow is D-day.

My house will officially be coming down.

As in big huge machines will tear apart pieces of my life and memories, and throw them into dumpsters. That probably smell like rotting carcasses.

Ah well.

I suppose it's a good thing considering there's snow in my living room.

I've been trying to figure out just how much to involve the boys in this next phase. Rylan is only 3, and was pretty traumatized from the whole fire incident. But Jaysen, despite being 8, and Autism or not, kind of "got it". Rylan will not see the demo. Jaysen,, I really don't know.

I'd taken Jaysen back to the house a few times. At first, I had set stringent rules on what he could touch, not touch, where he could walk, and when he could pretty much breathe. he followed the rules every time. If there was a beloved VHS tape that he wanted to rescue, and I didn't think it was salvageable- no matter how badly he wanted that tape, he always put it back.

I've seen him react out of fear in the past. Trust me. It wasn't pretty.

This fear is different though. It's not the fight-or-flight fear. It's more of a reality-slaps-you-in-the-face, grounding fear. He was brave to go back to the house, and it became easier each time.

However.

A whole myriad of emotions arises when you think of your home being torn to pieces and discarded. I'm excited because there's finally some movement- a step in the direction of building our new home, but also the sickening feeling of everything that's still left in there, charred or not.

I probably will let him watch the demo.

He's had an active part in the whole process thus far- from rummaging through rubble (and learning what "debris" is), to helping make decisions about the new housing layout and decor.

There was a point when I didn't know if I should let him go back to the house, but my instinct was right and it ended up being a good thing for him. He really learns the best lessons from real-life situations. I just wish I could be there with him to deflect any potential anxieties.

Ugh. My house is being demolished tomorrow.

So, here's to new beginnings.

And may you never have snow in your living room.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Wishing everyone a happy day, filled with love and lots of chocolate.

Happy (almost) Valentine's Day!

Today is Jaysen's Valentine's party at school.
He was getting frustrated with me from mentioning it so much, until I joked that he might get a kiss from a girl. My mistake. Now he's all about the party. So much that he did his spelling homework with minimal argument, and then proceeded to hand write all of the valentines for his class. And he hates writing.

What was superawesomefantabulous, was that he included not only his teachers, but the other kids in the resource room. Why is this a big deal? Because Jaysen has been "afraid" of anyone with an outward physical disability. I've theorized that this is because either A) It's just unfamiliar to him, and we know how he deals with unfamiliar... and/or B) It makes him more aware that he is different from his peers. Like if they're here and I'm here, that means there's something wrong with me- line of thinking. I think I mentioned Abby before (maybe not, because I can't find a post to reference), but we had a rough time with Abby last year. She wasn't the problem- it was my kid.

Abby drools. Apparently a lot. So Jaysen decided to call her "Booger Abby". I was mortified when he explained this to me. I sat him down and had a talk about people's differences,, awareness and tolerance. We talked about things people can help and things they can't. We talked about other people's feelings, and how that would make him feel. "But she hits me!" I told him I didn't care what she did to him, and that he didn't have to be friends with her, but if he sees her in the hallway, he has to say hi, wave, or smile. And he did. He even encouraged her to jump on the trampoline when the OT couldn't get her to.

But awareness isn't the focus of this post.
Just got a bit carried away with the back story.

Outside of his classmates, guess who the first kid was that he wanted to make a valentine for? Yep. Abby! He actually thought of her without any sort of prompting or discussion. I was so proud. And happy. And proudly happy.

It was also funny that he wanted to give one to "the boy with the glasses, but I don't remember his name". And also to "Lisa". I asked if Lisa was a teacher or a student, and he said "Teacher. But I don't know her (last) name either. Just put 'Lisa', It's okay."

Alrighty then.

So, love is in the air for my Romeo.
Hope you get lots of Valentines!

An open letter to the Supreme Being of the Universe.

Dear Supreme Being,

Usually, I am a firm believer in two things.
1) Everything happens for a reason, and 2) What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
But this?
Is killin' me.

I'm starting to think my fortitude is being tested, and I'm writing a formal notice that you can stop now. My limit has been reached, if not surpassed.

The house fire? Maybe I needed to start anew, with a quite literal, clean slate.
King Attitude and The Red One? The ones I affectionately call my children? Let's just say it's a good thing you made 'em so cute, because I've halted trying to barter with Gypsies on their trade. At least for the time being.

This??? This borders on just cruel.
Seriously. The only time I've ever heard of "parvo" is from dogs being sick.
You gave me a dog virus?
Maybe my lesson is I needed to know that humans can get the parvovirus too. I dunno.
What I do know is, that it sucks.
Who the heck created a virus that presents as rheumatoid arthritis?
They are pure evil.
My joints are a swollen knotty mess, and the pain. My gawd, the pain!
It's literally almost unbearable. And by unbearable, I mean I've considered going Evil Dead style and contemplated lopping off body parts with a chainsaw, just to get some relief.

And this can continue for "several weeks" to "several months"?
Thank you, but I'm done.
I've had enough.
You may stop testing me, and give me back my "normal" life.
Anytime now.
Now's good for me.

Please?

Sincerely,
Mommy~Dearest

Bully goat gruff.

Jaysen has a bully.
This bully has been on his case, and in his face, for the past two years.
I have been accused of being overprotective of Jaysen, but this is not the case in this scenario.

We'll call the kid Xander.

Jaysen desperately wants to be Xander's friend.
Xander wants nothing to do with Jaysen, except harass him.

Last year, Xander would push Jaysen, shoot him dirty looks, talk about him behind his back and to his face. On one occasion, Jaysen told me to call him "Big Fat Jaysen" because that's what Xander calls him.

The Sp.Ed teacher bucked up to Xander and really laid into him, but apparently she wasn't threatening enough. Xander's been talked to by the teachers, other classmates, and the school social worker.

At the beginning of this year, Jaysen came home super-excited and told me. "Guess what, Mom?!? Xander likes me this year! We're friends in third grade!" And at first, I was happy and hopeful. That didn't last too long.

"I was nice to Xander, and he said I was a loser."
"Xander said I'm an ugly idiot."
"Xander said I'm a retard."
"Xander thinks Mario is stupid, and so am I."

It's not the name-calling that irritates that hurts my heart, it's the psychological and emotional bullshit this kid puts mine through.
Almost every day, Jaysen gives me the "Xander-report". An account of the shitty things he's done to my kid, that my kid thinks is due to something he's doing.

Lately, the deal is Jaysen wants to play with Xander at recess-
Xander tells Jaysen they'll do Rock Paper Scissors.
If Jaysen wins, he can play.
If Xander wins, Jaysen has to go away.
The battle ensues.
Jaysen wins.
Xander tells him he lost.
Jaysen comes home and says, "Xander said Paper beats Scissors, and I have to go away. He's wrong, Mom. Paper does not beat Scissors."
And my son is heartbroken...again.

On numerous occasions, I have had to reassure Jaysen that yes, Xander is wrong, that Paper does not beat Scissors, and he should have let him play. I've started to take a more realistic approach in telling Jaysen that I don't think he should play with Xander anyway, because he just doesn't seem like a nice kid.

Jaysen argues with me that Xander is nice, and he wants to play with him because he is his friend. We go around and around about what friendship is and what it is not. What it means to be nice to people, and what is not nice. He doesn't care. For whatever reason, he wants to be Xander's friend.

People. This kid is not nice. And by not nice, I really mean he just may be the spawn of Satan himself. This kid breathes fire and sleeps on a bed of rusty nails. He probably eats rabbits for breakfast. Ears and all.

I wish Xander would just tell Jaysen he doesn't like him and does not want to be his friend. But no, he's using Jaysen's desire for his friendship to totally belittle and humiliate him. And my kid can't, or just refuses to believe it. We've had problems with bullies in the past, but Jaysen has written them off as "he's a mean kid, and I don't like him". Xander? He will defend til the end.

I really don't want to call Xander's parents, because I worry that will fuel the fire. Would it? I know it would have when I was a kid. We did not want Mom to make that call and fight our battles for us. That would be the ultimate embarrassment. I would happily take the ass-pummelling thank you. Jaysen's already getting teased for the verbal flaying his teacher laid on Xander- I don't know if I want to take the chance on making matters worse.

But this is my kid. And I "fight" differently than my mom.
'Cuz I'm mean.
And while I desperately want to give my kid some really good lines for his arsenal... I know I shouldn't.
I don't know if I could see this kid and not punk him down.
Well, I probably could harness my chi enough not to excoriate the little shit, but I couldn't promise I wouldn't construct a voodoo doll later.