KARMArt

When Ben was about five or six, we had a Developmental Therapist that worked with him in our home. Her name escapes me, so I will call her Inga so that she sounds more exotic. "Inga" had been recently divorced from her second husband and moved from the East Coast to live with her daughters. She had stepped back into being "Mom" and did most of her daughter's work for them. She was on five different medications to help her survive her divorce, etc. She worked with Ben. Anyone of those things could cause stress in someone's life.



She confided many things to me as most in-home therapists do as they integrate into your family. She said that she practiced retail therapy by going to Wal-Mart and walking around the store, filling a cart with all of the things that she wanted but couldn't afford. When she was done with her fictitious shopping spree, she would ditch the cart and go home.

I have worked in retail and know that those who leave destruction in their wake, are not just frowned upon, but cursed and hated by the employees. I could see the therapeutic side to Inga's self-help program, but I had sympathy for the employees in the blue vests.

Inga didn't last very long working with Ben, which was a consistent pattern for therapists back then and now. I hadn't thought of her for a long time, and then I saw her again when I was out and about one day. (You know it's coming...)She was working at Wal-Mart. How's that for karma? I think that she probably initiated a new therapy plan after that, the old one wasn't working anymore.






Photo:http://poorrichard.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/evil-walmart-greeter.jpg?w=221&h=300

Hornet and Blenders

My poor little "Baby Bear" got attacked by a hungry hornet tonight. He was over by our Rotatiller and was targeted by a beast of war. I was in the garage with my husband and CDK who is almost fourteen was on duty inside (reading a book). Our backyard is very kid friendly, but hornets have their own code of ethics. My son heard our little one screaming and ran out there. S.J. was sitting in his little Fisher Price plastic car freaking out because a pollinator was in his shirt with him. It bit him on the shoulder blade and possibly the arm. S.J. doesn't talk much yet at age 2 1/2, but he screamed like he was having a tooth extracted with out Novacaine. He was brought in the house and hugged by his big brother and both parents, in turn. I put him in the bath partially to wash off the bites and partially to get the ice cream out of his hair. After a few minutes of water play and wet floor, he seems fine.

Meanwhile, Dad and CDK went out to spray the nest in the tiller. S.J. had killed the original hornet by himself. As they were protecting their domain, Ben was inside making a cottage cheese, yogurt, water and milk smoothie because the fridge was left unlocked. Just goes to show that pests come in all shapes, colors and food preferences.

Fair is Fair

It's not that I am a big shot! I mean, heck, I wipe butts for a living. Being a Domestic Goddess may sound glamorous, unless you change it to "stay-at-home Mom", then the glamour is gone. But I have had my fifteen minutes, okay,15 seconds of fame. I won three ribbons in the California State Fair which is almost a big deal. I entered 33 bow ties framed in the shape of a bow tie that were my Grandpa's and I won a Second Place ribbon in the Handcrafts category. I received a matching ribbon for my Ewok costume that all of my children were then required to wear. My oldest son won a 1st place ribbon for an ocean scene drawing and a ribbon for a patriotic drawing. A different year, I won a fourth place ribbon for my Superman Christmas stocking complete with a cape. Two people offered to buy that one, which is cool. It was my brother's, but I get pretty attached to things that I make. They become precious as I invest my precious time into them.

My winning streak at that fair was five or six years ago. We moved to Idaho, and even though I went to the fair in Boise, I had never been to our local one in our county.

This year, I decided to dust off my skills and compete against the "old" me. The result? I may have aged, but I am not dead yet! Keeping in mind that there were fewer entrants per category because the population is dramatically smaller than the golden state. But these are fierce competitors, because there are amazing seamstresses and people raised with old fashioned ideals and functional families where talents were nurtured. Getting to the point finally, I won a ribbon on the four things that I entered and CDK won a blue ribbon for his art that he entered. Not bad for an old gal, and her son. Did I mention the $4.00 in prize money. Oh yeah! Celebrities, eat your hearts out! I received a hefty prize money payout of a job well done, and some pocket money.


(The top picture is my daughter and the bottom one is my Mama)

No, Honey They Are DIRections!

We have an ongoing project in the backyard. My husband is building a wooden play structure for the kids. We bought it for three hundred dollars below cost and it's brand new. It is also very involved and the instruction booklet has been essential. Frequently my husband has said "Where are my directions?" and we all search the house until we find the big 8 1/2" by 11" novella so he can continue his assembly. Once we only found the Spanish version, but he can speak and read Espanol, so that worked out okay.

It said that it would take 5-10 hours to build the play set, which I felt was a bad omen. If the instructions say that it will take twice as long as you expect, that's not a good sign. My husband had to alter a few things to get it to fit in the right location and added a few extra goodies, like a balance beam off to the side.

Now, for the good stuff. Our five year old knew the routine of helping find the DIRections for the play set, so that when he saw them laying on the counter, he got really excited. "Daddy, Daddy, I found your erections!" Oh, what a difference a few letters make!

Organic Ras"pppp"berries

My darling child used to use spitting as an attention getting device. Not "ptooey" but the raspberries of monumental proportions. He sometimes would fuel the spew with a swig of water to maximize the moisture impact. He was under five years old when this behavior was in practice and the most memorable distribution of a spit shower was in a Trader Joe's store in California. Enlightened people shop at stores like that. People who seek for freedom from dyes, pesticides and tyrannical grocery chains. They buy organic couscous and Tamari roasted almonds (love them!), soy cheese and tofu, sorbet and dark chocolate.

One unsuspecting customer got a free organic raspberry. Ben fueled it with a fresh chugging of water and aimed directly in her face as she approached us on the whole grains aisle. As the projectile precipitation hit her masterfully in the face she recoiled from the shock with closed eyes, flailing arms and a gasp of shock. I apologized profusely and high-tailed my children from the store with determined speed. It was mortifying. That poor lady probably had OPSD (organic produce spitting disorder) for months. I wouldn't be surprised if her therapist had to go shopping with her to help alleviate her trauma. Although I did avoid that store for a few months until I felt safe to return again, I have since decided that this was a hilarious moment in the life of parenting an Autistic child with a sense of humor all of his own.

Now that this behavior is being revisited, I am delving a little deeper to find the humor. Humor is like a seed, it needs to be nourished and cultivated so that it can grow and giggle. It wouldn't hurt to add a little water either, but only a little, and not on the whole grains aisle.




http://www.flickr.com/photos/paxsarah/2659996304/