Why I Could Never Home School...

Samuel is in Kindergarten this year, and we were so excited that we finally had a school aged child.  Oh, what to do with that whole 3 hours per day of free time??!  You guessed it, I eat bon bons and read Us Weekly. :)

I think that Kindergarten has changed in the decades since I was enrolled. I remember Kindergarten being this really cool place with books and a tent! and a cooking station! and we got to learn about a new letter that was turned into a character once per week.  Fast forward to 2012, and Kindergarten has CORE STANDARDS to meet.  By the end of Kindergarten, the children are expected to not only know all the colors and letters and numbers, but to be able to write them and spell them, too. No super fun "Mr. T" week. No tents.  This is some serious business, y'all.

My son is autistic, and though he has an obsession with numbers, letters, reading and counting, he hates to write.  Despises it. Would rather go to the doctor than write his name. You can see where this presents a problem for us, as I am "the responsible parent" who has to help with his homework every night.  I've taken many a class on ABA therapy, which is a standard for teaching autistic children new skills. We work for treats and movies and celebration.  He writes a few letters, and we have a celebration.   Sounds fun, eh?

I'd rather go to the doctor than to sit for hours every night and cajole him into sitting and holding a pencil.  We do two work sheets and I feel like I need to go run or hit something. It pains me as much as it pains him when the 7 o'clock homework hour comes around. Homework packets? In kindergarten?  WTF!

So what should I do?  I guess I pop my xanax and tell him to pick up his pencil, and be ready to dole out the M&M's like he just revised a Steinbeck novel.  If this is how the homework hour is going to go for the next 12 years of my life, I better get a better prescription and lots of candy. :)

No Place Like Home

For the past 5 days, we spent a crazy fun, long weekend in Kansas.  We crammed it all in...our ultimate experience (much like what people do in Vegas. Ha ha. Anyways...).

Friends, friends, friends. Kid friends. Mom friends. Bar friends.  Lots o' friends.

Family, family, family.  Hub's entire family was together for our nephews wedding.  He's one of 8 brothers and sisters, so that is a huge undertaking that does not happen too often. I believe the last Hubs Mega Family Reunion might have been our wedding almost 7 years ago. I got to see my momma and dad, a few of my nieces and nephews, and sister in law.  It was wonderful.

Free State Brewery!  Kansas City Barbecue!  Yello Sub!  Delicious one-of-a-kind foods that I cannot get out here. It was amazingly delicious, and I enjoyed the heck out of it. My scale agrees. :)

Something weird happened though.  I became....ready to go "home."  It was the first time that I ever considered Las Vegas my home now.  I do not live in Kansas....I live in Nevada.  And as much as I dislike our current living situation (I lovingly refer to it as Cabrini Green West), I was ready to be back to our normal.  Both kids missed school, I missed my gym, and we all missed our routine here.  WEIRD, RIGHT?

Maybe this place finally is growing on us.  It's promising! I'll take it as a positive. :)

It Finally Happened...

Well, it took five years to happen, but today my son asked me the dreaded question: "Mom, can we go to Chuck E Cheese?"

God. Why! WHY! What makes that place so awesome?  Chunky Cheese and it's ilk are my idea of Hell on Earth.  I love good food, I love video games, I love child friendly places...but something about the conglomeration of all of those (minus the good food) with a dirty rat as a spokesperson just gives me the heeby jeebies.

I have learned that every parent has their own version of the "worst place ever."  One of my friends has convinced his children that McDonald's is full of scary clowns.  Now, at age 7, their oldest has never eaten McDonald's. Age seven and has never had a Happy Meal?  That is bananas to me, who stuffed her kids with golden arches food as soon as they were old enough for a road trip.  I understand that a lot of other parents don't mind Chunky Cheese.  I raise my glass to you. I'd rather have a lobotomy.

And so, I told another of a multitude of Little White Lies.  "Sam, that place has really gross food, and the people are scary, and it's loud.  I don't think you would like it." (in my mind I was also saying "that disgusting rat costume hasn't been washed since 1984, and I'd rather eat a bike tire than a slice of their pizza).

Seriously. I am a food lover. I am a culture lover. We have taken our kids to some amazing places that a lot of adults wish they had access to. Yet, still, the urge to visit the Chunky Hell on Earth is strong.  I thought I raised my kids better than that!

Kudos to the Chunky marketing team though...clearly you are doing something right.

Lucky Fives

Tomorrow, my boy turns 5.  The tiny baby that I carried home from the hospital 5 years ago will go to kindergarten in 3 weeks.

I want to know where the years went!  Where the time went!  When my baby grew up.

I suppose he grew up before my very own eyes, and I am having an A ha! Moment!

Feeling nostalgic tonight, on the eve of my son's birth.  The days are long but the years are short.

Happy birthday, Chupa Monster.  Mom and Dad think you are the bee's knees.

Tales From Depression Land

Las Vegas sucks.  There, I said it.

Things here are hard for me.  No friends. No family.  Yada yada.  You know what though?  Remove yourself from everything you've ever known for 30 years.  It is hard.  I know there are new opportunities and people and fun stuff.  But I still miss the bajeezus out of everything from home. Yes, my family is here, and we are all together.  I also thing that last sentence is a crock of bullshit.  My family is not here.  My husband and kids are here, yes...but my family...the rest of my core that helped with all the crazy, was there for the ugly, or came for dinner, or joined you for a glass of wine, or just plain joined you while you folded laundry...are not here.  They are all moving on with their lives...back home...not here.

I have been having a more difficult time than I ever imagined. I sort of hate myself for it.  I am adventurous!! I am fun!! I like a challenge!!!  Well, I already have a challenge in my almost 5 year old.  I am fun. I am adventurous. But I live in a city that is an Adult play ground, and not a child's.  Casinos and shows on the strip are SO FUN! If you are 18 and have a babysitter.  My children are minors, and I have no sitter, unless you count PBS Vegas TV.

Depression has sunk in.  It's something I have struggled with my entire adult life, and here it is again.  Dark, and stormy, and full of futility and hopelessness. I'm being proactive though---therapists, taking my medicines, getting Sam lined up in the therapy/school department.  It just feels like it isn't enough though.  I am sad. Sad sad sad as I've ever been.  I hate it.  John doesn't know what to do.  I don't know what to tell him to do.  And so, I sit...every evening, while the kids and spouse are in bed, and question myself as to what I can do to shake this soon.

I hate it. I hate being and feeling completely alone on an island in the middle of the desert.

I'm slowly meeting people. I don't foresee myself feeling "settled" until we get into our house...hopefully in a few months.  Foreclosures suck, too.  Nevada, and Vegas, and foreclosures, and moving, and being lonely...sucks. I hold out hope that it gets better soon. That's really all you can do sometimes...I am not in control of anything except how I feel about things....and as long as I do my best to change what I can control, I can accept what I cannot control.

Depression in Vegas. Who'd have thunk it?

One More Chapter From The "Mother Of The Year" Book

Tell me I am not the only one. Please.

It's been a shit-tacular week here. Just lots of behavior problems, sleep issues with everyone, and my spouse has been working a lot.  I still have yet to meet a whole lot of people here, so the seclusion has been getting to me and I might be going a little bit cray cray.

Today, I took the kids to the complex swimming pool, much like I do at least 4 times per week. It was a beautiful 97 degrees and breezy, so I thought we would enjoy many hours splashing and expelling energy. Twenty minutes into it, the kids wanted to get into the hot tub.  In the summer. In Las Vegas.

I tried to be reasonable, and said "10 minutes."  So, I set my timer, and even gave the appropriate prompts for Sam.  At the end of 10 minutes, he refused to get out. "No. No minutes. I'm staying."  I calmly threw down the "count to three and then we go home" gauntlet.  No dice.

So mama counted to three, and with every number announced, my blood pressure raised about 100 points.  At three, I went to grab him, and he went to the middle. So I got in and got him, said "time to dry off" and put him on the concrete.  He ran to the pool and jumped in, swimming to the middle.

Mama lost her shit.  I got in, and dragged him to the side, and out of the pool.  He kicked and screamed as I put his water shoes on him, gathered our things, and dragged him out of the pool area. I am pretty sure that most of the patrons enjoying the pool saw more of my chest then they had ever intended on seeing.  I managed to say few words until he started laying on sidewalk instead of walking beside me.  Then I freaked the F out.

Bad call in the autism book, bad call in the parenting book, bad call all around. But he pushed my last freaking button, and I was done.

I basically dragged him home, along with a pool bag and another 3 year old who was pissed at her brother for "ruining everything again."

So now, I've turned on the TV, locked myself on the patio, and am currently drinking straight vodka out of a high heeled shoe.

A scene was caused today, but as Las Vegas and myself say, the house always wins kid. (Or at least we like to think we do. Shit, man. This sucks.)

Autism Sucks.

Autism sucks.

Sam's autistic behaviors have come to the forefront since we packed up our stuff and drove 23 hours to a new place. Thankfully, he was comfortable in "Daddy's apartment", but getting him to go anywhere else has been a lesson in patience and trust.  Before we go anywhere, I have to announce what we are doing. "We are going to X, Y, and Z." If Sam approves, he is like Ok! Yeah! Let's go!  If he does not approve, he kicks and hits and screams NO!! and repeats "No X! No X! No X!  Sometimes X is a mundane "I need milk, we are going to the grocery store, kid."  But, if he doesn't want to go, I either have to endure A: The shit fit of all shit fits on the way to X,Y or Z  or B: Stay home and seethe anger at my anxiety riddled child.  Most of the time we go with option A and bring a big dose of patience, but since I am also new here, sometimes it just isn't worth it.  I hate to admit it, but I am seething rage right now as I write this blog.

I'm losing my ever-loving mind.  I know it isn't his fault. Still, I don't have girlfriends here that I can sit around a table with that have known him his whole life to tell me "he's going to be OK, you are all going to be OK. Now let's hug and toast how hard it is to raise children!"  I have me, and my 3 year old daughter who thinks it is unfair that Sam's moods dictate our activities (I cannot say I blame her, as I feel the same way). Oh yeah, and my workaholic husband.

Sam cannot get into his developmental psychiatrist until the middle of July, and his regular pediatrician refuses to tinker with his medicines; he'd rather the psych handle it. Again, I understand. I just wish someone could throw me a bone with this kid right now.

Autism sucks.