Letters

So, the Berrykin has known his ABCs - upper and lowercase - since he was about two and a half. (I got really confused when discussing it with the women who tested him, because they asked if it was rote or spontaneous. Finally, they said, "Like, does he do them out of order?" And I went, "Ohhhh. Yes. Always. He can name them and find them." Because he's NEVER done them by rote memory, like singing the alphabet song, or saying them in order. He does that with numbers, but never letters. It didn't even occur to me that he might have.) He loves letters and numbers.

He does not, however, get into coloring or drawing. This is probably because he colored in the bit of the wall behind my in-laws' door while we lived with them, so we stopped letting him use them much. But. Even back then, he didn't much care for them. I was crazy surprised when he imitated the lines and shapes the testers drew because I had no idea he could come close to that much control.

Tonight, we steamed up the bathroom to help his new cough (he and I were sick two weeks ago; Jeremelon picked it up as we were getting better; we picked it up again yesterday). I drew a heart on the mirror. He drew a circle. I thought he was going to draw a person, but no.

He drew his name.

He's been coming home with papers since the first couple of days that looked like a kid with good handwriting wrote his name. Not quite adult-level, but not "I just learned how to hold a pencil yesterday" level, either. But I'm pretty sure he's been writing his name the whole time he's been going. Probably with help, but still.

He's been in preschool for three weeks, missing half a week because he was sick. And he can write his name.

He also recognizes that words are their own space in a sentence. He's accumulated a handful of sight words. Which means he's learning to read.

But he still doesn't really use language yet. All his words are rote words - sentences put together from memory rather than spontaneous collections of abstract concepts. Friday, his favorite was, "Goodbye, everybody!" which he said about twenty-five times between the classroom door and our apartment. Every time he's pleased with himself this weekend, he's taken my "good job!" and made it his teacher's "good job, buddy!"

He is, however, *trying* to talk more. When he was using my finger to write his name on the mirror (because once he saw I'd let him, that was apparently more fun than using his own), I'm pretty sure he was telling me all about the letters. Probably what his teachers do when they're helping him. Most of it was babbled imitation, but I know when we were drawing the 'l' that he said, "L is long and tall, up and down."

We were watching Princess & the Frog the other day (it's one of the Andybug's faves), and he started singing along. He sang! He used to do it all the time, and then he just...didn't anymore. So I was thrilled to bits to hear it. Then he acted it out while he was singing. And then he recited the words and acted it out, and then forcibly had me join in (I get to be the frog). In fact, he forcibly includes us in a lot of his play, which he never used to do before.

So that's the end of week three/beginning of week four. I let him stay home today because he was a drippy and coughy and it was crazy windy and dry today. Judging by the state of his cough tonight, he probably won't get to go tomorrow, either, which means he'll miss the library again.  He's no longer falling asleep on the way home from school, but he's eating less...might be the sick and might be that he's bored with the limited foods I've been feeding him. :/ (More on that, btw, on my renewed Berry Patch Farmhouse blog! It's for all my homemaker projects...'cause I've never taken the time to try to BE a homemaker, but I really want/need to start. I don't remember if I've mentioned it yet or not...)

This preschool thing is pretty darn spiffy. I'm so incredibly grateful he gets to go!

Preschool!

Berrykin started preschool on the 27th. It's an integrated special ed program, and he has something like 9 teachers that float between two classrooms. That includes occupational and physical therapists, speech therapists, special ed teachers, and regular teachers. We met with two of them ahead of time and came up with an individual education plan for Berrykin in conjunction with the specialists who evaluated him. Essentially, this year's plan is to catch him up to being ready for kindergarten. I'm not thrilled with the ultimate goal set to a school standard, but they're addressing all of his delayed areas so I'm not complaining, either. :)

He has class three hours, four days a week. He usually falls asleep in the car on the way home. ^_^ And of course, he brought us a cold on day four, and we spent Halloween and the next four days sick. Jeremelon has already taught him how to say, "Yay! No school!" which...well, it made me laugh when he said it, but now it bothers me. Jeremelon HATES school, with a rare, fiery passion. The hatred is justified - his first grade teacher frequently called him stupid and made his life such hell (at 6!) that he developed an ulcer and he shifted to homeschooling. So yeah, I get that he hates school. I know he's scared that Berrykin will end up in the same situation. I'm going to have to help him watch how he talks about it, though, because he wants the berrykin to enjoy it...he just...doesn't know what that's like. He won't appreciate my help, but better he be mad at me for being a nagging cow than Berrykin grasp any idea that school is bad. :/

Anyway! End of week 2, and so far, so good! Berrykin loves it...I think. His verbal communication is still pretty limited so there's no way to ask him. But he doesn't throw a fit or freak out - though yesterday he did say, "No school. Go home," when he saw it. But I think that was probably because he hadn't been there for five days, and going back is always harder after a break. He's a little nervous going in every morning - he makes me carry him up the hill to the classroom, snuggles into my shoulder, and lets his whole body swing limply in my arms. But he's so good about going in anyway! And he gets to play with kids and try all kinds of new activities that I never exposed him to (and it's all so freaking adorable!), and it lights him up in a new way. It does, as I mentioned, exhaust him, though, so I'm going to have to be more diligent about bedtime limits. Otherwise, he turns into a kicking, hitting, shrieking monster who thinks it's funny to bite. It doesn't help that he's decided to start getting up at 5:30 instead of 7 every morning. Ugh.

After the first week, he recognizes his name in writing. He says his name more, though it's still kind of unintelligible if you don't know what he's saying. Three-syllable words are still really difficult for him, but holy cow! His two-syllable words are perfect! (Except "bunny," which is still "bunky.") His scissor skills and coloring skills have improved. And, for the first time in a loooooong time, he's talking to himself again. Narrating what he's doing, talking to an imaginary friend, telling a story...I'm not sure what, as it's still Berrylanguage babbling, but he's okay with using words again in a big way, and that makes me so happy. :D He also wants to try new things and get involved with activities he's never shown that he's even noticed before, like doing the dishes (he started unloading the dishwasher last night all on his own). Mostly, the biggest change is the way he plays. He played actively and explored and did what normal 2-year-olds do...until we moved to Arizona. And then I don't know if he had an Autistic regression or if we placed so many limitations on him (my emotional situation messed him up a lot, I know) that he just...stopped. Whichever it was, school has opened up his mind and energy again. There are moments when he even seems like a totally different kid - both in good ways, and in hyperactive ways...but mostly the good. :)

And all of that is after a week! I'm going to try to remember to update here when I notice changes, to keep a record. I'll probably forget, but fingers crossed!

My Berrykin

I've been waffling all day about whether or not I wanted to post something about this publicly. I'm still processing, after all, and sometimes that makes for bad posts. But, really, I feel like I need to post *something* and I don't want to do it on Facebook. Not yet, anyway, until I've had a chance to wrap my brain around it.

A month ago, Berrykin had a low-level skills evaluation to see if he qualified for free preschool. Based on the results there - "yes, he has some delays" - they scheduled him for an in-depth evaluation with three professionals.  We had that exploration today.

They were all lovely women. They commented several times about how lovely and sweet Berrykin is, and what a gentle soul he has. It was nice to hear, but the entire time, a voice was whispering in my ear that they were prepping us for bad news. Reassurance before it's needed.

My 4-year-old talks like a 2-year-old. I knew that already, but they made it official. The way they evaluate, they give a "he talks solidly for __ age," and then they average all the skills together to arrive at a general age of development. So Berrykin talks solidly for a 15-month-old, and all his skills averaged together put him at 2 years.

I knew this, but it was still kind of devastating.

Worse, though, were the red flags.

There's a good chance my baby has an autism spectrum disorder. Since today's ladies weren't medical professionals, they weren't qualified to made a diagnosis. But everything they pointed out were things I'd noticed before. Things I've been worried about. Things I was too scared to tell anybody about. Like the fact that he's only just started hugging back. Or how he likes matching the colors rather than building with his blocks. He gets really preoccupied when his hands are dirty, and freaks out over loud noises. And he get so intensely focused...

Part of me says, "Look at how your brothers turned out - they're awesome! Brilliant! Good people! And they're definitely on the spectrum even if they weren't ever officially put there." But then the other side says, "But it made at least one of their lives so HARD as a kid." And then I try to remind myself that help for this kind of child has improved enormously since then. That he'll get to go to his free special ed preschool where his teachers will be wonderful and he'll get the sort of help I'm not qualified to give him.

And then all of me just sobs, because...my baby. I ache for him, and I can't make it stop. I feel guilty for not addressing it sooner, but mostly I just ache. It's an ache that pervades my soul and breaks my heart, over and over and over again.

Ironically, that ache is exactly the reason I decided not to have kids back in 2008. That decision lasted for all of two weeks before Jeremelon convinced me that kids were my everything and I would regret not having them forever. He was right, of course, but I think on some level, I knew.

The day got topped off by the berrykin running a fever. I freak when he gets sick - I was okay originally, but when he had trouble breathing from croup and flu at 2 and a half, I lost all ability to be okay. Most of the time, I have the energy to tamp down the freakout and carry on, but right on top of this...I'm so tired.

But at least he felt yucky enough that he was okay with me snuggling him a ton. That's a plus...sort of...

Chaos in the...Everywhere

I don't know how it happened. It swoops in several times a year and disrupts everything, steals motivation, screws with schedules, and generally makes life hard.  It's called exhaustion, and it's a problem.

Actually, I know where this exhaustion comes from. It's a personal thing that doesn't belong to me so I'm not going to comment on it, but it messed with my sleep. Then it messed with my daily schedule. Then it destroyed my emotional stability. Then my parents came to town, and we hauled boxes and furniture around storage on a couple freaking-hot days. Then Sims 4 came out. Plus, Jeremelon's been having a ton of work issues to deal with, including picking up extra shifts. That, I suppose, is how we got from doing supremely awesome mid-August to feeling like we're barely hanging on today. I mean seriously - the 9th?! Of September?! Come on!

All of that is making the Berrykin a monster again. Whenever we get stressed, he gets overly physical. He's started biting everything he can get his teeth on, just for fun. He hits, he kicks, he flails, and he laughs the whole time he's doing it. All he wants to do is play video games and watch tv (though I did manage to get him to play with his kitchen yesterday, even BY HIMSELF, which was a miracle on its own), and he throws enormous tantrums when those get turned off. 

I'm kind of glad now that his full speech evaluation isn't until the end of the month, so he can't start school until next month. 'Cause I wouldn't wish him on any preschool teacher ever right now. I love him to bits, but wow.

With the intention of fixing all this chaotic awfulness, I've gone on an unannounced Facebook hiatus. Like, five minutes ago. It will last until I get my mess together. Sleep, food, living space, writing, outings, exercise, errands, cleaning.  All of it is a mess, and all of it needs to be addressed ASAP.

I will still be using Twitter, 'cause it's a business thing, and posting on my various blogs. (My first work project might be going live tomorrow! Of course, you can't play it until you've gone through the first three chapters...and I got stuck just shy of completing the first...so...yeah...the likelihood that anybody I know will ever read it is pretty slim. But is okay! I get paid to write a video game! :D Oh...so maybe I'll pop onto Facebook when I hear it goes live to announce it...but that's it!)

I'm hoping it won't take months, plural, but honestly, we have so much stuff to get through and fix and figure out, that it might. : / Stay tuned for my heroic battle with organization and self-discipline!

Legally, I Can't Say More

I think I mentioned previously that I got a job, yes?  It's contract work.  I didn't want to say anything before I knew what I was allowed to say.

I signed my Non-Disclosure Agreement, so now I can officially say:

I'm writing dialogue for Idol Minds' "Tales of Honor" game.

The level of awesomeness involved in this job is way, way, WAY up there!  I get PAID to write dialogue for characters in a military sci-fi setting.  (It's based on David Weber's Honorverse series.)  There's a bunch of design involved, too, but I'm still learning that aspect.

Paid.  To WRITE.  FOR A VIDEO GAME.

Don't worry - I'll wait while you get your envy under control.

........

Seriously.   I'M jealous of me.  That's how cool my job is!

In the empty space between work sessions (did I mention I work from home?), I've plotted two new novels of my own and an extra short story to go with one of them.

The only problem is that my body doesn't appreciate being forced to sit in my crappy office chair.  My lower back isn't real happy with using my exercise ball, either.  First chance I get (meaning we have a surplus of cash after all bills are paid - so maybe for Christmas), I'm getting a new chair.  One with arms that support mine and a gorgeous, luscious curve of lumbar support.

But, you know...not complaining!  I have essentially Dream Job, Level 1 here.  Nothin' to complain about there! :D

Gettin' In the Game

I really need to ante up and kick in.

I did really well with my new food regimen until last Monday...when I sprained my other ankle.  At that point, I wanted comfort food.  I still refused all heavily dairy foods and stayed away from yeast products, but I had cheesy popcorn, chocolate, and all kinds of lesser (but sooo tasty) evils.  As such, I can't tell if my stomach gets queasy from a little milk or a lot of sugar...oops.

It's kinda hard to get stuff done when one is immobilized.  Despite this sprain not being as bad as last month's, it still took just as long for me to be able to walk on it without whimpering.  It's still bruised.  Actually, I think the joint itself is off, 'cause putting pressure on the heel in a forward direction makes my foot feel like it's coming off.  Creepy?  Why yes, yes it is!  My chiropractor will adjust it tomorrow morning when I go in...did I mention before how much that HURTS?  Part of me is shrieking, "Don't do it!  Don't do it!"  But I will.  Because it will feel better once the momentary explosion of brain-numbing pain recedes.

I've decided to give up cardio for a month.  I mean, I can do little things - go for gentle walks (in the sweltering heat...), swim (if I want to brave all the kids at the complex pool), that kind of thing.  But no jogging.  No dancing (except the kind that basically stands in one place, like hula or belly).  Nothing with "bootcamp" in the title.  My joints need more support from my muscles, and the only way that's gonna happen is with more strength in my muscles.  (Although I would like to note that the little bit of jogging I did this spring helped tighten up my knees!  They're back to sliding all over the place now, so that even standing up out of a chair can make them fall off the track.  Good grief, that hurts...)

My friend Katie put together some awesome little strength training workouts for me last winter.  I'm committing to 4 weeks of those, right here, right now.

Also, that whole "kick in" part needs to happen with regards to my food.  I've decided to start from scratch with 5 days of nothing but healthy, spinach-based smoothies (well, and anything that goes into said smoothies, a la carte).  That way, I can get used to handling fruits and veggies on a regular basis...and shopping for them.  And reaching for them when I'm hungry.  And remembering they're in the fridge (why is that so HARD?).  Shopping is problematic currently, 'cause my car trunk doesn't stay closed.  (My dad's friend tried to fix it so it wouldn't pop open on bumps...but now it doesn't stay closed unless it's motionless.)  I can drive to the store and back, no problem, but I don't like to leave the carseat in there in case some hoodlum decides to steal the car.  Silly?  Maybe.  But we also take Jeremelon's car if we go anywhere as a family, and those seats are unwieldy.  (Excuses?  Why yes, yes they are!)

5 days of smoothies, and then I'll add in chicken and salmon, rice and quinoa and oatmeal.  Maybe some hummus.  Maybe find a way to turn fruit into a salad dressing that doesn't involve vinegar.  That'll be another week or nine days, I think.  And then after that, after I've had two weeks to find recipes and whip my stupid kitchen back into shape, I'll launch our all-new menu.  Full family meals.  Full cooking, though still sans cow milk and yeast.  Unleavened bread from scratch.  Maybe homemade pita.  Desserts for the fun of making desserts.  Mmmmmm...

I might have to hold off starting until Monday, after we celebrate the Berrykin's birthday...on the food, anyway.  Tomorrow starts my strength training.  Thundercats, HO-O!

Day 10

I'm on about day 10 of no milk, no yeast, no barley.  I think that means I'm on day 4 of no artificial sweeteners.

I spent the last week furiously writing a sci-fi tv pilot for...something I'm not going to talk about yet. ;) But really, it was the WHOLE WEEK.  I was up writing until 5 or 6 every morning, then the Berrykin got up between 7 and 8. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal 'cause the Jeremelon gets up with him, but this happened to be a weird, random week where he was scheduled to open. Every shift. Fun stuff! So I'd get up with the Berrykin, try to doze on the couch while he played video games, and then collapse into bed when Jeremelon got home around 2.  Then I'd be up three hours later for dinner to do it all over again.

Whew.

What all that means is that I didn't really have time to be upset over my lack of food options, and that made the bulk of those 10 days not so bad.  Jeremelon's been grilling a lot, 'cause it's quick, easy, and doesn't heat the apartment. I'm so very, very grateful he's handled most of our meals all week!  But...it kinda means the insanity that would have been mine is now his. :/

On the up side, I'm feeling better. We had an icky 24-hour stomach bug that I managed to catch twice over, but since then my stomach hasn't been having any troubles. Between my nightly Activia routine, cutting out most fast food, and the absence of milk, yeast, and barley, my GERD is almost gone. Too much liquid will still make my stomach bloat painfully, but I haven't been bloating from food at all. Which is...weird. Nice, though! I've also been getting these weird energy surges, but that could be the lack of sleep. Same with the nasty headaches. (Although today's is, I think, largely due to the giant storm blowing through. Ever since we lived at sea level, pressure changes make my head feel like it's going to esplode.)

I've also shed 5-ish pounds, but that's mostly because I stopped taking Zyrtec. (Which I can now officially say is the majority factor behind my spring weight spike every year. Oh, wait. Usually I take Claritin, which isn't supposed to do that...hmmm...well, it's the majority factor in my inability to shed weight at the end of the summer, at least!)

Next on my agenda is to compile a list of food I can eat, spooled out into snack lists and meals and recipes I'd like to try. Because oatmeal for breakfast, grilled chicken and green beans for lunch, and pasta and peaches for dinner is fine and dandy, but I imagine I'm going to get tired of it pretty quick here...  Then again, that whole "Let's start eating whole foods at home!" project is kind of taken care of... :)

Also, exercise.

Also again, I wish the Berrykin had playmates. Not just so he'd have playmates (which he REALLY needs), but so we could invite people to his birthday. I still have to get his speech screening scheduled so he can qualify for a special preschool program and we won't have to pay for it.  He's been doing AWESOME the last couple of days - I think he told me all about the socks he had been wearing yesterday when he was falling asleep (pretty much went: *point at feet* socks. *point at left foot* Blue. *points at right foot* Red. *wiggles both feet* shoes! Socks socks socks! With a lot of babbling in between that sort of sounded like words.  All because I like to box in my yellow gox box socks). But there's still a lot of nonsense babbling, and he won't answer or ask complex questions. Largely, his problem is because he's mine, and he gets really self-conscious about answering questions or talking when people are paying attention. :( My poor baby.

Food Intolerance

I don't remember if I've commented about it on this blog yet, but one of the chiropractors I see is also a functional medicine practitioner.  (Functional medicine is all about improving a person's health from the cellular level up.  This is largely through diet and supplements to ensure the body has the nutrients and resources it needs to function optimally.)  They took blood at the end of May to run an IgG allergy test. (I've since learned that these tests aren't accepted by traditional medicine as being useful or definitive, largely because they haven't been vetted through large trials and research yet; this tends to be true of most holistic and complementary methods.  But I figure - what the hell? My regular, traditional med docs don't have any interest in helping me get *healthy,* only not sick, and I really need to get healthy, so why not give it a whirl?)

I got my results back today, and tomorrow begin an elimination diet to remove those things the test showed I have a sensitivity to.

Luckily for me, most of my big no-nos are stuff I don't eat anyway, like cottage cheese and mushrooms.  I was really worried I was going to turn out to have a digestive issue with corn or wheat because they're in SO MUCH anymore there's very little way to avoid them and still be able to eat, you know, food.  Thankfully, I'm not allergic to either.

(Quick aside to explain: IgG "allergies" are reactions to certain proteins.  Rather than making a person swell up, get hives, or experience the terror of anaphylaxis, they affect the system anywhere between a couple hours and two or three days later.  They cause an inflammatory response in the body as various processes get interrupted. They can also injure the lining of the intestines, which causes food particles to enter the blood stream and travel to places around the body they're never supposed to be where they act as toxins. (This is called Leaky Gut.)  My body composition test a couple months back already suggested I had a lot of toxins in my system and (along with my general progression of symptoms over the last decade or so) a general worsening of systemic inflammation (goiter, anyone?).  IgG problems might be responsible for digestive issues like IBS or chronic, whole-body problems like fibromyalgia; again, not a lot of scientific research yet.  So when I say "allergies" in this post, I don't mean antibody-specific; I mean possible negative, inflammatory response happening way down deep.)

I am apparently super sensitive to baker's yeast and cow's milk.

Which potentially means I can never have bread again (if I want to stay healthy, anyway...).  Or ice cream.  Or hot dog buns. Or soft pretzels. Or pudding. I have to go back to butter substitutes.  I can't eat pizza, except on no-rise dough.  And I shouldn't eat CHOCOLATE (except the dark stuff, which I don't like).

BREAD!  CHOCOLATE!  AAAAARGH!

So, starting tomorrow, no bread. No chocolate. No milk. No barley or fermented beverages (take THAT every peer pressurer who told me I was full of poo when I said alcohol makes me feel lousy! This only bums me out because I can't have my favorite canned soup).  No nuts. No peanut butter. No oregano. Limited cheese (but I can still have yogurt - yay for protein changes during various food processes!). There are a bunch of smaller ones I should cut out, too, like onions and cinnamon.

One month of a heavily restricted diet, and then I can start adding the minor sensitivities back in to see if they bother me.  Three months on the modified diet, hopefully with a healed gut, and I can start trying out the moderate and significant sensitivities.  ('Cause again, the test is a tool to find possible problems, not a definitive answer like an IgE allergy test, which says, "If you come into contact with this, you could die...or just have a super stuffy head.")

3 months without bread, chocolate, or milk.

You know the funny thing? I started limiting my milk (except in cooking and the occasional bowl of cereal) and bread intake months ago.  Score one for intuition!

I can't have almond milk or almond butter, so...I dunno what I will use for nice alternatives.  Goat's milk?  I shouldn't have soy because of my thyroid, so my options are kind of limited.  I can still get my calcium from yogurt, which is a pretty big staple of my diet right now, anyway.  So no worries on that front.

Bread and buns I can replace with pitas and those green wrap things they use in restaurants.  I might have to find an unleavened bread recipe for my bread maker so it can be of use again.  (I really wish I had the recipe for our old church's communion bread - it was some dark molasses thing, and it was TASTY.)

I'm also supposed to cut out all artificial sweeteners, which was on my list of dietary changes to eventually make, anyway.  I need to buy a filter for our Brita pitcher so I can go back to drinking tap water without flavoring.

I go back in a week to review my big health picture.  Then a week after that to discuss nutritional needs, supplementation, and possible detox.

Meanwhile, my chiropractor adjusted my ankle today after spraining it.  Holy bells on a hell hound, that HURT!  Also, I've discovered that I bruised the living daylights out of the entire outside line of my foot and ankle from falling on it.  That hurts almost as bad with even the lightest touch.  Owwww.  Next week, if it's not back to top form, he's going to use ultrasound on it to help the muscles and tendons heal.  That'll be a fun first. :)

Dern Ankles!

So, we've been sick ALL MONTH with the head cold that won't quit.  Jeremelon has laryngitis on top of it, and of course the Berrykin was only sick for three or four days.  Since then, he's been super hyper because we haven't wanted to leave the house.

And then, just as I was feeling better, I sprained my ankle.  I really thought I broke it this time, but the family streak continues - no broken bones!  The hospital gave me a sexy boot to wear to protect it that I have to wear whenever I walk anywhere.

You know how I did it?  My foot slipped off the sidewalk ten feet in front of our apartment.  Crunch, smack, ouch.  Right in front of the pool.  I sat there for probably ten+ minutes while Jeremelon got the groceries inside and Berrykin attempted to run off in any direction he set his sights on, and none of the dozen or more people at the pool came to see if I was okay or needed help.  It's not like they didn't see me - at least three of the women were staring at me when I finally managed to stand up.  Some of them were probably only six feet away when it happened.  Jerks.

Today, my ankle feels much better and isn't nearly as swollen.  The arm carrying the box that broke my fall, on the other hand, feels like I climbed the side of a mountain one-handed, with no feet.  Oof!  But the vicodin they gave me at the hospital gave me some fun, zany dreams, so it all works out. ;)

With the exception of ComicCon, this month has been a pretty big bummer (oh, and except the Andybug is visiting!).

In other news, Berrykin is finally ALMOST potty-trained.  In fact, I'd call him Naked Potty-Trained.  He hasn't had a single accident in two or more weeks...so long as he doesn't have a stitch on.  If we're out of the house, he doesn't usually go in his pull-ups.  But at home with pull-ups or undies on?  Fuggedaboutit.  I think the next step is to start making him wear undies all the time at home and letting him have accidents until he figures out that undies are not pull-ups and pottying in them gets him all wet.  If he's going to start preschool in August, though, he's GOTTA get trained!  There's also an issue with telling people he has to go or answering yes when someone asks, and he doesn't have the wiping/asking for assistance part down yet, but that can wait until the rest of it works.  (I'm open to suggestions if anyone has them!)

And that's June!  Ugh.  I hope July has good stuff in store to make up for it. :)

Doctors and Batmen and Jaynes, Oh My!

(Yep. I used the reference for two posts in a row.  Score!)

Anybody who says geeks don't exercise has never been to a con.

Seriously.  For every scrawny, enthusiastic Spiderman, there's a toned, muscular Master Commander.  For every plump, awesome steampunk lady, there's a flat-bellied Sailor Moon.  Takes all kinds!  Plus, at a con, you walk.  And walk.  And WALK.  Sometimes at high speeds so you can leap into line and then sit.  And then stand up as they scrunch the line together.  And then sit.  And then stand.  And then sit.  It's a WORKOUT.

My sister and I walked 5 miles yesterday at Comic Con.  Her favorite costume was a pretty spiffy Sora from Kingdom Hearts, complete with kick-butt keyblade.  My favorite was...oh, heck.  There were so many!  There was an absolutely GORGEOUS 1960s Penguin in dove grey with the cigarette holder and everything.  A Star Wars tie-fighter pilot in day-glo orange who looked authentic enough I believed he was in on leave.  A Stargate officer in simple but awesome jumpsuit.  There was a group of about 13 girls cosplaying some pseudo-anime I'd never heard of, but it was a huge group and they were downright adorable.  Saw a family of Dr. Whos, another of awesome steampunkers (minus the 8 year-old boy who apparently insisted on being Robin), and a Batman trio wherein the wife was a sexy Poison Ivy, the dad was a beefy Bane, and their four-month-old was in a Batman onesie (adorable but somehow just...wrong...in a funny way).  The best costume moment was probably when we walked into the game demo area and discovered a Master Commando from Halo hanging out on a bench playing a video game with his vizor still on - so essentially a game character playing a game...it was awesome.  The trio of Tetris blocks made me laugh.  We caught a glimpse of a pretty sexy Ash, complete with chainsaw arm and a perfect female Hellboy complete with rock arm.  Jayne hats were everywhere.  The only Firefly character I didn't see was Kaylee.  Because they had two of the Doctors in for the 50th Anniversary, there was one Doctor Who tweed jacket for every four costumes, and quite a few of the girls wore cute blue dresses that suggested Tardis call boxes.  There were even two Daleks (one a giant, engulfing costume and the other a cardboard-fronted baby stroller).  We passed a Batman in super-hero position staring at a wall and an Assassin's Creed assassin in "you don't see me" pose leaning unobtrusively against a column.  As we were leaving, we passed the LARP station where they were having a full-on, knock-down brawl - the general dark clothes of the combatants broken up by the flash of a perfect green Link darting in and out with his sword.

We went to a panel on the Whedonverse, saw a preview of a web show that's filmed here and starting in August (which sadly wasn't very good), then separated so I could see Raphael Sbarge (Jiminy Cricket on Once Upon a Time) and she could go to "History of Video Games."  Then we reconvened for Bruce Campbell.  I checked on the line at 3:15 'cause it was next door to Raphael's room, and though there were a lot of people, it was nowhere near what it was like at 4:05 when I came back.  The line filled up a ballroom, so they directed us upstairs and to the left.  From there, to the end of the hall and to the right...whereupon we discovered the overflow line that just went on and on and on and ON.  When we arrived at the back, we were told it was unlikely we'd get in.  Sad day.  We waited for an hour, during which we heard that speech about three times and a nicely-dressed steampunk lesbian couple casually maneuvered themselves from behind us to six places ahead of us in line like nobody was going to notice.  Or maybe that nobody would object...which we didn't.  'Cause that's not what cons are about.  But it marred an otherwise awesome day.  They weren't very nice, either.  Boo!

Anyway, we did end up getting to see Bruce, which...well, it ROCKED.  HARD.  He started out by saying he didn't have a moderator so three audience members would get to audition by reciting, as close as they could to Michael Westen's voice, the opening monologue of Burn Notice.  First guy did okay.  The girl did pretty darn well.  The third one...of course, the third one turned out to BE Jeffrey Donovan, the actor who played Michael Westen.  Epic.  The whole experience was just EPIC.  Campbell is a quick-witted comedian, and though it wasn't a very personal Q&A, it was fantastically funny.  (At one point, he turned the tables on the audience and said, "Okay, now I'm gonna come down there and ask YOU annoying and personal questions."  He even fake-kiss-dipped one of the middle aged women in the front row.)  I can't say what sort of person he actually is in real life 'cause it was all very theatrical.  I found him a little crass and rough-edged...but that might be his "public front Bruce Campbell character."  Jeffrey Donovan, on the other hand, was a lot more down-to-earth and boy-next-door than I expected.  And then at the very end, Denise Crosby (she played Yar on ST: TNG, the mini-reunion for which was coming up next and to which we sadly didn't have tickets, and guest-starred on The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.) showed up and sort of panel-bombed by going all fan-girl on Bruce.  I was hoarse from laughing and going "Wooooo!" by the time it was over.  Yep.  Pretty darn EPIC!

I'm a little bummed we didn't get to see the TNG reunion - I've never seen Marina Sirtis or Jonathan Frakes, and I really wanted to snap a shot of Shatner (who was moderating) to send to my dad today for Father's Day.  But even though we could have bought tickets at the door (I think), we were wiped.  Plus, I would've felt guilty asking my sister to spend more money, since the day was on her.  'Cause she's the bestest sister ever!  She's back again today, manning her company's booth in the video game room.  I'd love to go back just to admire costumes.  We've been told, in no uncertain terms, that next year we are expected to dress up.  So I guess we have a year to make that happen. :)

It's also one of my first major career goals to sit on a panel at this con (and then eventually at the full-on San Diego Comic Con), so going was a fun step. :D

And now we can say we lost our (Comic)con virginity with Jeffrey Donovan (it was his first con, too)!

Doctors and Bloodtests and Adjustments, Oh My!

I've set myself the challenge of going Facebook-free for a month.  All of June.  Not just Candy Crush (which I'm proud to say I haven't played in months!).  Not just lurking with no interaction allowed.  Nothin'.  Nada.  No logging in, even.  I've now gone over 24-hours...it would be longer, but I needed to check on someone's reply to something.  But that's the last time.

I now don't know what to do with myself.  Random, two-second FB checks were a staple of my day.  Come home, open FB.  Get bored, open FB.  I never really did anything with it, but opening it was part of my routine.  It structured my computer time, signaled bedtime, helped me wake up in the morning.  Not having any of that has left me stupidly listless.  I don't exactly feel lost, just...unfocused.  Add to that the bummer that we went through yet ANOTHER power cord for the MacBooks (seriously - those are the shoddiest piece of electronic paraphernalia I've ever had the misfortune to use) and have to wait for a new one to be shipped, and it's left me restless, mindless, and always ready for a nap.

That, however, could be the combination of extra exercise and a functional circadian rhythm.  I've been going to the chiropractor for about three months now, and I feel like a totally different person.  Okay, that's mostly the Vitamin D supplements.  I was desperately low on Vitamin D; I don't know how long that's been going on.  Over a year, at least.  Probably since I was pregnant with the Berrykin.  Maybe since before that, even.  'Cause what those sunscreen ads don't tell you is that if you always apply sunscreen before going outside, you never absorb the UVA rays necessary for Vitamin D synthesis.  If, like me, you also happen to be obese (it's a fat-soluble vitamin, so the more fat you have, the more vitamin d gets usurped before it can do its job), no amount of vitamin-d-containing foods are going to cut it.

Two weeks on a low dose of Vitamin D, and my depression was almost gone.  Another two and my anxiety largely evaporated.  I no longer needed to go back to bed after only being awake 2 or 3 hours...not to sleep (because I wasn't doing that), but just to rest because my body couldn't keep going.  I also gained about ten pounds (which strangely happens to me every spring without a dietary change and an *increase* in activity).  A few months later, my functional medicine chiropractor looked at my dose and said, "Uh, that's...that's way low.  Quadruple that for a week, and then drop down to a double dose."  After that week, I kept finding myself smiling for no reason whatsoever.

Vitamin D, man.  It's awesome.  (It's also part of, like, everything.  Estrogen and testosterone production.  Muscle growth.  Metabolism.  Neurotransmitters.  Bone density.  Skin sensitivity.  Immunity.  Everything.  Practically, anyway.)

Chiropractor discovered that my left hip is sitting a whole inch higher than the right, which has caused some serious lower-body issues.  (A regular spread, one hip to the other, is up to 3 mm.  Just for reference.)  After three months of adjustments, I no longer have back and hip spasms.  My spine has started straightening back out again (the hip difference was making it sag to the right).  We've brought the hips about 3mm closer to even.  I can walk without pain!  I can JOG!  (Sort of - my feet and ankles are so weak still that I get massive cramps going...but I CAN jog if I stretch the heck out of my feet.)  I gained another two pounds when I quadrupled my VitD intake, but my body is steadily changing shape, even without significant effort on my part.  (I mean, I'm watching what I eat and JOGGING in intervals, but...yeah.  Before, I could've done that and MAYBE seen a difference after three months.  Not three weeks.)  My berrykin belly is tightening up.  After 4 years.

Functional med doc also took a look at my symptoms and suggested the likelihood that I suffer from Leaky Gut Syndrome, so I had blood taken on Saturday to run food allergens.  I'm both excited for and afraid of the results.  It's been suggested that my never-ending eczema is actually my body trying to flush toxins.  And that if I improve the water inside my cells versus the water outside of them, I could potentially lose 35 pounds without doing anything else.  Insanity?  Yes it is.  But if I'm chronically eating something I have an unknown allergy to and then stop eating it...yeah, I can see how that would make a difference.  Plus, healing my intestines so I don't have junk floating around in my bloodstream is just a good call all around. :)

I'm also trying to find a new dentist.  Berrykin was being wild the other night and jumped up into one of my front teeth, and I'm worried he cracked it.  I think it would have been okay except that I have a permanent retainer behind my two front teeth and what happens to one sort of happens to the other, but not really.  Plus, I haven't been to a dentist in years with all the moving around we've done.  I've never had to find a new dentist (except for the Berrykin, and that was easy), but my childhood dentist that I loved retired pretty much exactly during my last appointment.  That was...siiiix...years ago?  No.  I'm pretty sure I went in as a pre-pregnancy precaution, when his replacement told me I had HUGE fillings and would need essentially a whole new tooth next time I get a cavity anywhere.  Fun stuff.  But I do need to go.  That's still been four and a half years.  (Which is better than Jeremelon's "not since we've been together" stretch.  He has one of those irrational fears of dentists.)

Might have to see a plastic surgeon in a couple weeks if the steroid shots I just got in my arm today don't help the lumps leftover from my last flu shot (back in October).  I got to be one of those "adverse response" reports to the CDC.  Hoo-ray!  And I have an endocrinologist check-in in a couple of weeks.  Hopefully she'll tell me I'm a bad girl for not getting my thyroid checked every six months like I'm supposed to (to make sure it isn't suddenly going cancerous) and that everything is fine.  And then I'll be all done with health checks great and small, minus my functional med attempt to heal me from the inside out.  Whew!  (Although I still need to do some long-term TMJ treatment, that'll have to wait until we have money.)

Speaking of money, I have to get a job.  I'm actually trying to get something outside of retail.  In fact, my *perfect* job showed up within two days of finally being at an acceptance level amenable to applying...so I applied.  I don't normally ask for this, but if you're a person who prays/sends out light/crosses fingers/etc., couldja direct a little of it my way?  We REALLY need me to get a good job, and this one is seriously everything I've been looking for over the last three years.  Spectacular opportunity, good environment, possibility of future tuition payments, enough income to pay for everything that needs paying and then some (including daycare, if necessary).  I would be so grateful for any good thoughts you send my way. :)

And that's mostly catching you up on what's going on here.  Berrykin is bigger, talks more, is FINALLY on the potty training road (mostly my fault that he's almost four and not there yet...see the paragraph on Vitamin D).  He's a very focused, stubborn, active, and silly little boy.  He loves dragons (and dinosaurs, 'cause they look like dragons), video games (he is seriously good at Ratchet and Clank), Tinkerbell, and "kickin sanwiches" from Chick Fil A (seriously - you could offer him a giant cake with cookies on top, and he'd still pick a chicken sandwich with great, wide-eyed enthusiasm). He's less than two months away from turning 4, three months from starting preschool, and both of those things seem utterly impossible.

How's everybody else doing?

Happy summer!

Why I've Walked Away From Facebook (Mostly)

A letter to my Facebook friends:

I am a recovering Facebook addict.  I've dumped untold hours into it, caring significantly about people who no doubt barely think about me in return.  This isn't a complaint, a 'woe is me' moment.  On the contrary: I'm one of a dying breed of Interstitial Internet Nerds, and darn proud of it.  Social media wouldn't have been a thing if we hadn't existed.  Nor would internet dating, Massively Multiplayer Online games, or Amazon.  We were the ones who took what the Primordial Geek created and humanized it.  We proved the viability of real human connection across a digital space.  "Internet friends" were real for us in a way they aren't anymore (except maybe for our MMO Maven successors).  We use the internet and everything in it differently than those who came after us.  We tend to care more and assign more of ourselves to online interactions than does the average user.  In other words, Facebook was made because of us, but it wasn't made for us.

I've finally weaned myself off of Facebook - a good thing, all told.  (In case you haven't noticed, by the way, it's about to follow in AOL's footsteps.  Get more involved in your back-up social media system now, before the shock sets in. ;) )  I wish I could say I skedaddled because I smelled trouble on the wind.  I wish I could say I left on defiant principle, to give our reliance on an overly self-important virtual business a personal kick in the pants; to turn my back on this vehicle of peer pressure masquerading as social support (not that the latter doesn't exist, 'cause it definitely does, but the term "selfie" derived from social media culture, and that says something about its cultural environment).  Heck, I would be happy if I did it because I was just fed up with the bugs, impermanence, and significantly non-user-friendly "improvements."

But I didn't.

I left Facebook for a horrible, awful reason: I left because of your kids.

Yep.  I just admitted that.

But see, I love your children.  A lot.  Like in the movies when parents die and leave their kids all alone except for a beloved-yet-estranged friend or aunt who takes them in despite not having the time, room, or financial capacity.  Like in Jumanji.  I would totally take your kids in, even if they were a little too quiet and weird or straight-up pathological liars.  We'd have zany adventures that would hopefully not endanger their lives while bonding us together in a way that makes us family even though we're not.  (Hopefully you'd also leave us an awesome ramshackle house in which to stage said zany adventures, but we'd still make do with what we had even if you didn't.)  I love your kids like we just played a life-or-death board game, even though they almost got me killed.  I loved them the moment you told me they were on their way.  Weird?  Maybe.  But that's the Interstitial Internet Nerd for you - we bond like that.

I have a lot of friends whose kids - most of them boys - are 1-2 years younger than Berrykin.  I've watched every video and cheered every triumph; I've laughed at the cuteness and silliness and the ickiness.  I've empathized with your pain and sleep exhaustion and wished I could lend you some of my experience, just for a day, when things got really hard.  Because parenting is hard; because I truly believe parenting should be a companion effort, something we support each other through rather than competing for non-existent "best parent" medals (and that goes for people without kids, too).  It's like we think that somewhere, maybe at the Pearly Gates, we'll get upgraded for parenting the "right" way.  As if the angelic clerk would take a look at our permanent record and say, "Oh, you breastfed/bottlefed/babywore/organicked/nannied/crieditout/attachmented/stayedhome/worked/pottytrained/coslept/taughtindependence/etc/etc/etc the best way?  Congratulations, you get the cloud with the chocolate rain and cookie pillows!" 

There's a tenet among writers that we can never write the "perfect" story because no reader will read it the same way.  What they bring to the book is always going to be different, and their Toolboxes O'Life will change the story even when the words are exactly the same.  Parenting is like that; it's hard, and it's different for everybody.  Your child's story - your story - will always be unique, even if he or she is one in a throng of disposable diapers and bottles (or cloth diapers and long-term breastfeeding.  Or sleep issues.  Or no sleep issues.  Or any combination of seemingly identical options with which a Western-world parent can choose to write their infant's story).  No story will ever be the same.

We need to stop comparing, myself included.  Because comparing strawberries and peaches and expecting them to be in any way similar is insane.

And that is why I weaned myself away from Facebook.  Not because of the daily battle I was doing to get the dumb thing to load pictures where I could view them (instead of just showing me people's feet).  Not because the general atmosphere is detrimental to the way I feel about myself (though it is, and studies have shown there's a good chance it is for you, too).  I forced myself to log out because your pictures and videos of your adorable, verbally-normative kids were breaking my heart.  Even though, as I said, I would brave terrier-sized spiders for those kids.

It's no secret that in my son's story, there haven't been many recognizable words.  On the whole, this is unsurprising.  His dad didn't talk much at all until he was 5, at which point he apparently shocked everyone with his fully developed verbal skills.  His aunt and many of his cousins made up languages all their own.  Most of all, his mom is quiet and contemplative and even when she works really hard at talking more for his benefit, she probably still only speaks about half as often as the normal parent.  It's totally normal, given his genetic and social environment, that he barely put two words together once a day by the time he turned three.  Left to ourselves, I wasn't worried.

But every time you posted a video of your chatty two-year-old, or regaled us with tales of the adorable, insightful, or downright hilarious things they said, I was reminded of the biggest difference in my son's story.  I was reminded that he's at least a year "behind" in his verbal skills, and he should be seeing a "specialist" for his "deficiencies."  That hurt, but it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that every post reminded me of the moments I will never get to have.

I will never know what sorts of adventures he took when he hid himself in the jelly cupboard.
I will never know what his horsies were doing in the dungeon, or why he put his cup in the closet (although that's a common problem among most kids, I think).
I never got to share in his two-year-old imagination explosion milestone.
I will never have that missed year of deeper, language-driven parent-child connection back, and neither will he.
I will never know what scared him for months, deeply enough that he couldn't get out of bed and would shout my name because it was the only word he had.
I will never be able to comfort those wounds, validate his fears, or help him learn to slay that particular monster.

Those were things that broke my heart in your moments of joy.  I was certainly not about to ask you to share less joy or parental pride.  We all need more of those positive moments.  My heart's ache shouldn't detract from your heart's glow.

My choice, then, was to walk away.  So I gradually slipped away, peeking in the door at the loud, strangely personal yet impersonal cafe that is Facebook from time to time.  I found a little objectivity in digital isolation, and am infinitely grateful I did so.  Not because it gave me more time to do things.  Not because I could stop matching those stupid candies and cursing the randomness in obviously idiotic algorithms (though that was a big plus).

I'm so grateful because I've found the perspective to recognize our triumphs as well as our challenges.  It allowed me to recognize the moment he actually started advancing his language.  It made me aware of him instead of his trajectory.

He may not answer questions, but he tells me what he needs.
He may be crazy stubborn about what he says, but he's funny.  We've entered "joke" stage and he manages to purposely make us laugh with four words or less. That takes brains.
He may not tell me stories, but he can count to twenty clearly. 
He may not narrate, but knows and loves his alphabet. 
He knows Sword in the Stone by heart and recites his favorite lines as he watches even though he often acts like he has no idea what I'm saying when I tell him to put on pants, or like he can't remember how to put on socks.
He thinks horses are funny and giraffes are awesome, and he may not snuggle with his toys or play obvious pretend, but he makes a darn fine whinny and he can correctly name an abstract animal from twenty paces (often more readily than his dad).
He may not say, "I love you," not once, but he tells me he loves me every time he says my name, and I'm always floored by the amount of emotion he can pour into that one word.

So he may be behind by the time he starts preschool.  He may not have the faintest idea how to socialize when he's expected to play well with others.  But that's okay, because he's learning and growing and laughing.  Today, for the first time, he used a three-word sentence: "I found Mama!"  For him, that was huge.  Without walking away from Facebook, I might not have noticed how huge, and that would have been a failure as a mommy.  Not the fact that I didn't run a constant stream of narration all day; not what he did or didn't eat; not how many hours we let him play Spyro (though the answer to that is still "too many"...but he's three, and except for the bosses he can play the whole thing by himself!).  My only failure as a mother would have been not seeing, really seeing, my son.

There you have it.  My "leaving Facebook behind" story.  But it's not really about Facebook.  It's about love.  It's about parenting.  It's about the crazy ways our culture has twisted us up about ourselves, about each other, about the difference between "support" and "being nice."

That's really why I wrote this whole thing.  To get to this point:

I appreciate the reassurance people have attempted to give me.  Knowing that you care is lovely.  But telling a parent how to compare their child differently doesn't help.  People have been telling me pretty consistently, "Don't worry - it's normal for the family."  And "Don't worry - I'm sure he's good at other things that my kid can't do."  Not helpful.  It only shifts the external focus to another external point.  (Don't get me wrong, there are times when comparisons are incredibly helpful.  Telling a parent whose child has just been diagnosed with a frightening condition, for example, of someone you know who thrived in spite of the same condition can offer much-needed hope.  Better, though, is to ask that person if you can give your friend their phone number in case they need to talk.  Or invite them both to brunch.)

We need to find "supportive" ways to talk to each other about parenting, rather than "being nice" ways.  "Connective" instead of "competitive."  Ways that focus on the individual rather than on a comparison with someone else.  I have just as many problems with it as everyone else, so I'm not saying I'm perfect.  All I'm saying is that all this awesome perspective has helped me see how we're doing it wrong.

If you're a parent, I'm going to say to you what I needed someone to say to me.  (As such, it may not work for you.  That's okay.  If it doesn't, leave me a message and we can chat about what might.)  Are you ready?  This is important.

You are a good parent.  You're probably even a great one.  All those choices you make and concerns you have are important.  They're real, and they're often hard.  They probably keep you awake at night, and that's its own bummer 'cause you need all the sleep you can get.  But they won't ruin your child.  No matter what, this child is still this child; their food source won't change them.  Their diaper source won't change them.  Their activities won't change them; we worry they will, that if our kids don't color enough they won't grow up to be creative, or if they don't hear people talking enough they won't grasp language well enough or fast enough.  We often spend so much time worrying about how our choices affect our kids that we sometimes stop seeing our kids.  Your child is unique; his challenges are his own; her strengths are hers alone.  You are the only one who can read his or her story the way you can, through your Mommy/Daddy lens.  Stop looking at other people's kids and take a breath.  You're a good parent.  Right now, for today, I give you permission to worry about one thing and one thing only: Is your child laughing?  Right this moment?  No?  Then go fix that.  Make them laugh and then laugh with them.  Whenever you find yourself worrying, make them laugh again.  Love and laughter are the only things the two (or more) of you need today.  You don't need to solve the big problems of parenthood, or of parenting this child.  Today, all you're solving is the problem of not laughing.  Got it?  Go to it!

(Just in case you're wondering, I had to change the above paragraph as I was writing it no fewer than four times because I suddenly discovered I'd written a comparison.  I didn't say non-comparative thinking was easy...)

If you got aaaaaall the way down here, thanks for reading!  I'll still answer stuff on Facebook if you want to say hello, but blog comments are nicer. ;)  And if you have an awesome online community that isn't Facebook that you think I should know about, lemme know!

Filling the Well

There's a saying among artists that in order to keep the art flowing, one must always work to refill the well.  We do this (even non-artists) by taking in things that make us "full" - emotionally, spiritually, creatively, socially.  We watch movies, stand in front of magnificent artwork, laze about in the sun like cats, go for walks, sit in cafes and eavesdrop on the ebb and flow of conversation; anything that reminds us what being human really means.

While these activities vary from person to person, there is one that holds true for writers: Writers need to read.  We need to read inside our genre and outside of it.  We need to read non-fiction and poetry and plays.  We need to immerse ourselves in the written word, in another writer's world and characters.  It shakes off the dust of our own words, deepens our worlds, gives us insight into stale ideas, and makes our characters more well-rounded.

But really, if we're not reading, what's the point in writing?

My friend Katie recently set herself the goal to read 25 books this year.  When I first considered reading that number, my brain almost collapsed from exhaustion.  Since the berrykin was born, I read maybe 3. A year.  25 is "all the books ever" by comparison.

On the other hand, I just plowed through Ally Carter's I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have To Kill You in three or four days.  You know, for research.

Oh, how I missed having a book in my hand!  The smell of the pages.  The snuggling up and refusing to come out from under the covers until my need to immerse was sated.  Ah, books!

About a quarter of the way in, I realized that I really need to read more.  Make that need.  Because as I said, what's the point in writing if I don't read?

I don't have a lot of time to read (at least, not anything longer than A Fly Went By...every night) and I'm not a fast reader.  I don't know that I can manage two books a month.  But I do have a To-Be-Read shelf full of books that have been collecting dust for at least three years (some of them have been there for five, since I last worked at Borders).  There are 17 books on it, spanning several fantasy authors I've been intending to read to Amy Tan to Nora Roberts to the remaining two novels in a middle grade epic.

17 books is a serious stretch.  It still seems like "all the books ever" compared to 3.  I'm not entirely sure it's doable...but I'm gonna try.

I'll post a list of the books soon, so I can keep track. :)

All's Quiet on the Home Front

Jeremelon and the berrykin are currently winging their way over the Rockies to visit the grandparents in Phoenix.  I REALLY hope it's going well.  Their flight was delayed two hours, so we all went and grabbed lunch rather than just dropping them off (Beee came along to drive so I wouldn't have to worry about it while crying uncontrollably).  Berrykin was falling asleep in the car on the way back to the airport, though, so we were hopeful he'd fall asleep pretty quickly.  I packed him all kinds of snacks and toys to keep him occupied, and Jeremelon loaded up his new (used) PSP (bought with credits from trading in all his old Xbox 360 stuff) with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episodes and Spyro.  Even if Berrykin doesn't sleep, he'll have plenty to do!

And now I'm sitting here in a quiet apartment trying to figure out what to do with myself.  It's been three and a half years since I had quiet!  I'd forgotten how restful it is. :)  But every time I turn around, there's a reminder of all the noise that should be filling up the space...and the noise-maker who isn't here.  And then I want to break down and cry.  I've done very well so far!  I only cried a little when I said goodbye; Berrykin was too excited to say hi to the security officers to notice I wasn't coming along.  That was a blessing, I suppose; he's been really big on holding my hand clenched in his lately.  But I definitely had tears leaking out of my sunglasses as Beee and I high-tailed it out of the airport.  I haven't cried yet since we've been home, but I'm sure that's short-lived.  As soon as it's bedtime, or I go to clean his room, or...whatever I do that doesn't involve staring with extreme focus at an electronic device, I'm sure I'll have a big ole cry.

They're going to be gone about nine days.  The longest we've been apart was when I attended a friend's birth as a doula back in 2012.  That was 55 hours, and I was too involved in what I was doing to notice.  Since then, the longest I've been away from him was a nine-hour class two Saturdays in a row.  99% of my days, the only time I don't see him is when one of us is asleep. 

This will be good for both of us, I'm sure.  I have a giant to-do list for these nine days - mostly writing, writing, and more writing - that will keep me occupied.  I'll be productive, hopefully get my schedule fixed in a good, healthy way that will be beneficial to everybody.  I'll get to SLEEP IN and only wake up when *I* want to.  I can read or work or write or play or go out into the world without thinking about anybody but myself.  Meanwhile, Berrykin gets to go to the aquarium, the zoo, no doubt all kinds of shopping, and spend lots and lots of time with his granddad, who never fails to be super excited to see him on a daily basis, no matter how many days he's seen him before.  And he gets to ride on a plane and go for a loooong drive back (which probably won't be fun...but it's different...right?) with Daddy and Granddad.  Boys' time!  No Mommy allowed!  Plus, I'm sure Gran and Granddad will buy him more stuff than he has room for on his shelves, and that'll make him happy. :)

I just hope he doesn't miss me as much as I'm gonna miss him. :(  I think Jeremelon's plan is to wear him out as much as possible so that he doesn't notice Mommy's not around for bedtime...

...I miss my baby.