(Please update bloglines, blogrolls, etc., accordingly! Pretty Please?)

With the EggMcMuffin just across the street from me, I drove the van down a small incline towards the traffic signal. It turned yellow, but I decided to proceed through the intersection rather than attempting a quick brake. As I sailed under the signal, I saw it turn red. I also saw a police car.

My heart jumped a little, but I proceeded into the McDonald’s drive-through. So did the cop car.

As I ordered, I tried to be as sweet and calm as possible. “Let the officer know that you are a nice, calm, polite woman!”

When I drove to the payment window, I watched the policeman. Would he order, or just follow me?

He ordered.

I paid, and then proceeded to the pick-up window.

He was paying as I received my food.

I saw I had been given a small orange juice instead of large. I started to protest, but realized that if I just drove away, the cop car would have to either flash his lights to signal me that he wanted to “talk” to me, or I’d be home-free.

So I drove away while he was still paying.

I didn’t speed off in a burst of exhaust, so I knew that if he wanted to pull me over he could do so easily, but knowing that I was ahead of him by a bit made me more confident that he was ordering McDonalds, not following me.

Still, it took several minutes for my heart-rate to return to normal. Once I was on the freeway I was confident that the policeman was simply in search of breakfast. In fact, given his vantage point in the left-hand turn lane, he probably didn’t see the signal change so wouldn’t have known that I was in the intersection when it was red. Or, he chose to let it go.

Later in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s, I nearly dropped Spliggle when a woman yelled loudly from behind me, “Excuse me! I just want you to know I am here!” as she swung open her driver’s door to enter, thereby blocking my ability to put Splig back in his carseat. Clearly, I was still jumpy.

As luck would have it, another car drove up while I was buckling him in and I heard the loud sigh of the driver as she waited less than two seconds for me to be done. Then as I walked to the driver’s side, the car on that side was backing up. That driver gave me a nasty look even though I was waiting patiently to go to my door.

I have the Spliggle-removal and Spliggle-reentry routines down pat. They don’t take much time at all, unless there is someone “tsk, tsking.”

But, if you have a kid in your arms, then it is both incoming cars and outgoing cars that have precedence: whichever you are not.

Later this afternoon, I was about to make a right turn when I saw the “no right turn on red” sign. Whew! And when a white motorcycle with very bright lights came up behind me later on? Again, I felt my heart pounding, even though the cyclist was simply a private citizen.

I have heard many sirens today than usual. Thankfully, none have been for me.

Plus, I didn’t believe July was actually coming.

I knew months ago that I was going to order a million (well, 72) rubber ducks to be used as decorations and favors. But I kept thinking it was “too early” to order until we were certain that we would be having a party where a million (72) ducks would even be necessary. But then I ended up ordering them a week or so again, scared they wouldn’t arrive in time. They arrived two days later, thankfully! (That time machine STILL hasn’t come. They put a trace on the package. Oh, and I made a mistake: his former classmate’s home is 3.9 million dollars, not just 3 million. Sorry to be off by a million.)

Unfortunately, my sluggishness in getting the invitations out has a price: very few people are coming to Splig’s party.

I knew some of the people I invited wouldn’t come because I already knew of their fabulous Fourth of July plans: St. Croix! New York! But I expected that at least some people would still be in town.

I was wrong.

In fact, my mom called me right before I sent out the invitations. She wanted to ask when the party was. She assumed Sunday. It is on Saturday. My dad had been the one to reserve the park for Saturday. How could he have not asked my mom whether she was working that day? But, she was! Luckily, her job is in the morning, so we made it an evening gathering. If we had done a lunch-bunch, she wouldn’t have been able to come! ("Oh it is okay if his grandma doesn’t come. Just take photos," she said. Please.)

So far, my parents, plus a coworker of Husband, and our immediate family is attending. A good friend from elementary school, her husband, and daughter are planning to come but might not because they are planning for a trip for the 4th. Similarly, another of Husband’s coworkers has several engagements that day, so has marked "maybe" on the Evite.

People are busy the Fourth of July weekend!

Next year, I’ll have to bug people well in advance so that their calendars don’t fill up with other holiday weekend plans. Also, next year Splig will have friends from his new school. This year, I think that inviting people from his tiny preschool class would have resulted in some head-scratching “Who is Splig?” Given the close-knit atmosphere of the new school and that he will be three (!) next year, I think it will be a livelier and more extensive guest list.

Some say one is only supposed to invite the number of guests as the child’s age. Well, Splig will be two. And that is pretty much the number of guests (other than me, Husband, and the Cat) that are coming!

Thankfully, he won’t know the difference. I’ll give him a cupcake, BBQ sauce slathered chicken and tri tip, and the 72 ducks and he’ll be in heaven!

Yesterday when he awakened, he was polite and obediently recited that he would listen to his teacher. Then in the van on the way to school he started singing “whee, whee, whee!” to the tune of the Polar Express, but jacked up super-fast. I had to ask him twelve times to stop. Twelve. I wanted to review the rules about listening to his teacher and not hitting his classmates. But he was singing, singing, singing.

I doubted that he would have a decent day at school. If he was unwilling to listen to me in the van, and so wild that his arms were swinging in a blur while he made annoying noises, then I figured he would be loud and overly energetic at school.

Instead, the teacher told me that although she had to remind him twice to listen, that once she would speak to him, he’d give her eye contact (!) and acknowledge her request.

Wow!

But then that afternoon, he was again uncooperative and seemingly deaf to my requests. At swim lessons, he was exceptionally nervous, but followed the teacher’s instructions. Polite in the van. But then hitting Spliggle. Articulate outside. But then throwing objects. Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

He refused to go to bed last night. (In part because he had taken a long spontaneous nap, I believe.) It was midnight when I went upstairs and he was walking around. This morning, he was jumpy. Husband and I feared the worst.

But his teacher said he was the best yet today at school.

What? Can you hear the echo of my disbelief?

At swim lessons, he was apparently articulate about his fears, but he had definitely regressed from the week before (says his teacher.) The teacher said that his excessive crying today was because of nerves. He didn’t officially badge-up but was given a “good job” badge. As I’ve mentioned before, I have mixed feelings about the reward-everything system.

The Cat and I spoke at length about his concerns. He explained why he felt nervous, and I told him it was okay to be scared a little but to remember that the teacher knows that he can do it and that the teacher wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

A few sessions ago, his teacher had point-blank said “Cat, you can absolutely do this but you have a psychological block.” I had told him later, “You do that, you badge-up.” And he did it. He held his breath longer than any of his classmates whereas before he was afraid to even try.

So I am sure that in time his fears will be overcome. But in the meantime, I am trying to encourage the Cat to trust his teacher. I know it is tough. His concerns can become enormous. I’ve been there. I can get overly sensitive and scared about things, so I understand his point of view.

Right now, he is upstairs because he became impulsive and pushed Spliggle. But just now when the timer rang, he very articulately apologized and asked if he could come downstairs.

Boing, boing, boing!

I'll be back (hopefully shortly!) with more news on this exciting move.

UPDATE: I jumped the gun a little. I've known about this gig for awhile, but didn't know when an appropriate time would be to announce it. Today things moved quickly, so I dashed off this post to let everyone know what is going on in case they drop by and the blog is inaccessible. The transfer process will begin tomorrow, July 28th. So, I will do a couple more posts here, and then tomorrow will be an in-flux day.

Of course I will let you all know of the new url to bookmark or blogroll (pretty please!) but there will be redirects and stuff in case you forget.

In the meantime, visit my soon to be new neighbors, many of whom have personal blogs you may have already been reading.

As for me, the tone and subject matter of this blog will remain the same. Fear not, I will not suddenly start injecting forced posts on the benefits of Pampers versus Huggies, or other such behavior as my friend Nick joked about on April 1st.

Rather, I have been given a welcome opportunity to join some wonderful women on a great resource site for moms!

(Brought to you by the letter “I”)

There were some green and brown flowered board shorts that I fell in love with immediately, but I needed something to go on top (and an actual suit to go underneath.)

Tops were too small, bottoms were too big. Vanity-sizing has gotten out of control, as I was wearing a tiny-digit size on the bottom yet not even the “large” could fit my top. It is as though they want everyone to believe they have a small waist and big breasts. (For people who actually want bigger breasts, that is.) Even more ridiculous was that all the tops were padded. There was barely enough fabric to equal me sticking band-aids on my chest, and yet that fabric was wrapped around a generous sized piece of foam. No, they weren’t removable!

I located some tankinis where the top looked like it would be cut such that it would fit my largesse (not to be confused with large-ass, which apparently I do not have given that I had butt-cloth-sag in many of the bottoms.) Unfortunately, these great tankinis only had tops in “small.”

I found T-shirts that were cute, but didn’t match the board shorts. I found a super-soft, beautifully colored bluish-purple hoodie that had nothing to do with swimsuit shopping and unfortunately had some strange seams down the front or I would have purchased it. I found adorable polos that again were pulling me off task. (Ten bucks says I buy a polo tomorrow.)

While the rule of shopping is that you aren’t supposed to buy something for which you can’t immediately find a match, I really liked those board shorts. I exited the dressing room with them in hand, expecting to simply go check out.

Magically, a size “L” brown tankini top was hanging in front of me.

Someone must have ditched it in the yoga section as they exited the dressing rooms. SCORE!

The tankini fit me perfectly. It matched the board shorts perfectly. In short order I found a T-shirt that matched everything and got some cheap flip flops to pull it all together. I tried on an excellent cowboy hat, but since I am neither from Texas nor a Republican, I left it on the shelf. (Oh, but it was adorable!)

Further happiness was that all of the items were on sale.

The next step was to go to the pet store. The Cat actually wasn’t too great today, but he had some good moments. I figured if I could get my nice blue fish, I’d just stick it in the tank without giving any good-behavior, bad-behavior commentary.

Last night he strangely hurt his thigh while peeing (around midnight,) then vomited several minutes later while in a tizzy. More vomit and sadness ensued. I still haven’t figured out whether he had some food poisoning or whether he was so scared about his leg (probably a muscle cramp,) that he worked himself up so much that he threw up. It was a sad situation, especially given that he had been so cooperative about going to bed in the first place. I think he fell asleep soon after the drama, but he was definitely grumpy today. In fact, it is no surprise that he is asleep now. So is Splig. And Husband.

It was a rough night.

So even though his behavior today wasn’t stellar, I wanted that fish!

The place were I got my excellent armfuls of surf-wear is in a strip mall that had two pet stores within three storefronts of each other. One was only for pet food, the other had animals. The place where I took Splig and the Cat the other day was in a similar strip mall just blocks down the street.

Three pet stores within walking distance of each other. Three.

I looked at the one next to the surf shop. The employees were attentive. The fish looked healthier than in the other store. I learned that there is such a thing as a blue fin-tailed goldfish. However, the ones they had were sort of a black-blue, and they had the bug-eyes.

Although I think the bug-eyes are cute, the truth is that those goldfish are extra sensitive. We had a black moor that lasted about a year, but once it started getting sick I could see it in his eyes. I will spare the details, but one eye became larger than the other and he was thereby put off balance, and thus unable to eat.

I am reluctant to get another bug-eyed fish while I am not a spectacularly attentive tank-cleaner.

They had some adorable bluish Dalmatian-like spotted goldfish. Blue-tint. White-tint. Orange-tint. All pretty cool.

But, I remembered that sapphire-aqua brilliance of that beautiful blue fish I had seen a couple days previously.

I drove to the other store, and crossed my fingers that “my” fish would be there.

He was!

I saw his tail swish around, the light hitting the sapphire-aqua fins.

I was so excited!

The salesperson said, “yo!?”

“Oh, I’d like to get that little aqua-blue guy there. The one that is hiding from me?” I was totally giddy, but trying not to show it.

The salesperson looked at me a little skeptically, eyebrows raised.

You want to know the punchline?

Beautiful Blue is a Betta!

“Oh, but um… I thought he was a fantail goldfish. That is what the sign says,” I stammered.

“No,” the salesguy laughed, “We ran out of cups for the bettas”

In the split second that followed, I simultaneously realized what would have happened had the clueless saleswoman from our earlier visit unknowingly given us a betta to shred apart our remaining goldfish and “huh… do I have a place on my nightstand for a betta?”

I laughed, and told the salesguy, “Um, I guess it won’t work then.”

But as I exited, I seriously considered stocking up on the bloodmeal and getting that gorgeous fish.

Naw, my cat would eat it. Or The Cat would knock over the container. Or Spliggle would. Or it would become overheated. And DIE. But of course, had I brought home that betta two days ago, our white goldfish would now be blood and bones. I don’t think our filter could have taken care of that. And I was squeamish as it was taking care of a fully intact dead calico fish.

So instead, I went to Baja Fresh and got a mahi-mahi taco. Yum.

He examined each tank and saw a type he wanted. On the upper tank out of the Cat’s view, I saw a gorgeous sapphire and aqua fan-tailed fish. The label said it was a goldfish. I didn’t know they came in blue! (We have had combinations of black, white, orange, and brown calico.) The Cat nodded with excitement when I suggested we select the blue one to take home.

The employee was helping another mom and child. I nodded to her, saying to the Cat, “Don’t worry, we’ll be next.” I thought the employee got my drift. It took this employee at least ten minutes to capture the other customer’s fish. I imagined she’d help us once she was done.

Instead, she disappeared. I saw the other mom and child pay for their fish and leave. I started searching for another employee, but the Cat was getting restless and loud.

Splig started climbing out of his cart. The Cat started yelling.

As much as I wanted that blue fish, I had to announce we were leaving.

The Cat was devastated. But I figured we’d come back when he was better behaved.

I went off for a pedicure this morning and was saddened to receive a text message from Husband that the Cat had thrown one of his trains into our neighbor’s yard. I was hoping he’d be cooperative today.

When I came home, I took him on a shopping trip, hoping that if he cooperated at the grocery store we could perhaps stop by the pet store and snag that blue fish if it wasn’t already gone.

Instead, the Cat didn’t follow instructions. He wanted to purchase extraneous items. It took several “no”s before he would finally let go of the latest “favorite” item.

In the liquor aisle, I was looking for “Cuervo Black” because Husband had expressed interest in it. I thought it was supposed to be individual bottles of cola with tequila. I was searching up and down. The Cat was being loud, running to and from the adjacent aisles, and I was confused. I really wanted to find the Black because Husband and I had a fight and I wanted a small peace offering. I sighed to the Cat, “I am really confused right now and I need to figure things out.” A fellow shopper looked at me as though I was nuts. I am sure a babbling woman in the alcohol aisle isn’t cut much slack. I finally figured out that Black was simply a type of tequila that Cuervo recommended be served with cola.

Given the difficulty we had at the store, I didn’t want to reward him by getting that fish.

I think I may have to sneak away alone to reward myself with it!

In other news, Spliggle is sleeping. His vocabulary has exploded recently. Yesterday, I was surprised to hear him directing his daddy to change his diaper by saying, “I have buttpoo!” and then walking over to the changing area and lying down, “Buttpoo! Buttpoo!”

Buttpoo! Beautiful Blue: I want you!

Actually, I am surprised at how long these fish have lived. We started with four back in June of 2003.

Then one died later that summer. Another died at the beginning of 2004. I didn’t think the Cat noticed, but just a few months ago asked me why I had flushed his “favorite fishy” down the toilet “back at the old house.” (We moved in June of 2004.) Then the third died sometime last night.

The fourth is swimming around happily, especially now that I have cleaned the tank.

As I noticed the actually-not-floating fish (after my beery lunch) I wasn’t sure whether to let the Cat know. He’s been crying at the drop of a hat today, but at the same time I knew it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to cover it up. I wasn’t sure how long it would take him to notice on his own, but once he did he’d probably feel betrayed.

He had calmed down considerably from earlier today and was relaxing on his beanbag as I approached him with the floating fish in a water pitcher.

“Hey, do you want to say goodbye to your fish? He died last night and I am going to put him in the toilet.”

“He died?” The Cat looked a bit skeptical, but came up to examine the pitcher. “Oh goodbye fish! I love you!”

He watched as I poured the pitcher into the toilet.

“Why he died?”

“Well, it was really hot last night, plus the tank needed to be cleaned.”

“Dirty makes you die?”

“Well, fish tanks have to be kept pretty clean and at an even temperature.”

The Cat peered in the bowl as the water swirled the fish away. “Oh goodbye fishy. I love you!”

Then he walked out of the bathroom, looked back over his shoulder at the toilet, and started to weep. “But I love him!”

I sat the Cat on my lap and stroked his head. “I know you loved your fishy. You still have another fishy in the tank. Let’s clean the tank so it won’t get sick, okay!?”

“Okay.” The Cat stopped crying and asked, “Can we get another fishy? This one is so sad to not have any friends.”

“Yes. We can get another one.”

“We need nine fish! Because at kindergarten, there are ten kids. I have nine friends. My fishy needs nine friends now.”

“Well, we can get one or two more,” I responded.

“Nine,” insisted the Cat.

Once Splig awakens from his nap we’ll take a trip to the fish store. I won’t be getting nine fish, but perhaps one or two. I am actually surprised that the Cat didn’t become hysterical. The quiet tears and thoughtful questions were an unexpected and mature response.

The A/C guy came last night weary from the long day. It reached at least 103 yesterday so I imagine he had quite a full day. He said something about his truck being hit, so he didn’t have the part he needed. He’ll be back this evening to make the repair and do a coil-clean and all that.

But we were again without cool air last night.

Three of us are grumpy. Spliggle is surprisingly happy and energetic. He is nowhere near needing his nap.

But I am exhausted, Husband looked weary, and the Cat is an absolute disaster. He has done several toddler-like things today including smearing poo on the walls, running around naked, and watching Boobah.

Trying to ignore the Cat, I made the invitations for Spliggie’s second party today:

On one hand, it is surprising that he is two already. But on the other hand, he behaves like a three or four year old. We are having Kinder’s cater the deal since that is Splig’s absolute favorite food. He eats more than an adult sized portion of meat if it is covered in Kinder’s sauce.

The theme is “rubber ducks.” I have purchased pirate ducks, birthday ducks, sports ducks, glow-in-the-dark ducks, and patriotic ducks. Then I have some flowered ducks and regular ducks lying around the house. Plus we have a huge rubber duck that Splig got for Easter. When Splig sees the invitation or the favors, he screams, “Ducky!” and giggles hysterically.

One of his favorite loveys is a stuffed Ducky blanket given to him by his paternal grandparents at birth:

I was feeling pretty smug after getting the invites out, so thought I would water the garden a bit. I am still adding things here and there, and have already done a pre-order of some bulbs that will arrive this autumn. Little by little, I am creating a nice yard.

When I removed what I thought was a weed, I discovered a carrot. The Cat was extremely happy. We went around the yard yanking carrots and planting other things in their place.

Then I heard screaming. The Cat’s loud cries made no sense. Was he stung by a bee? Did Splig push him?

Finally, I realized he was screaming to go indoors. He had tried the back door but couldn’t get in.

Annoyed, I went over to the door to open it while I lectured the Cat about using his words.

To my surprise, the door didn’t budge.

How could that happen? It is a sliding door. I realized the lock must have been half-on and as the door shut last time, it must have slid into the locked position. Wow, not something I expected.

I tried the side yard door and front door knowing they were locked, but checking just in case.

I tried the back door again. Maybe my hands were just too muddy to grasp it properly?

I kept circling the house, hoping some magical key would appear. I am wearing sweatpant-shorts so didn’t have my cell phone accessible. The Cat kept yelling, “Call Daddy!” but of course I couldn’t. It was noon. The sun was hot. I didn’t particularly want to spend the rest of the day outdoors waiting for Husband.

Thankfully, Husband had opened the living room windows this morning to air out the house. They were the lowest windows, so I decided I’d break in through there. The Cat saw me hoist myself up after prying open the screen, “No Mommy! Don’t break the screen! No Mommy! No climbing!”

As I made my way over the ledge, the Cat was hysterical, “I am too small. I can’t climb up there.”

“I am going to unlock the door,” I told the Cat. “You don’t have to climb up here.”

“Yes I do!” The Cat pouted, cried, and screamed as I went to the back door. Sure enough, it was completely locked. It is eerie how the lever was strongly in the “locked” position. Gravity is strong, apparently.

I let the kids in, but the Cat was angry that he hadn’t gone through the window. I went upstairs to wash off and noticed the poo on the walls. Angry, I asked the Cat about it, but he was still in a tizzy from being scared locked outside.

I sent him to his room to cool off.

He screamed for a half hour before finally asking me calmly to come discuss things with him.

Spliggle’s energy suddenly disappeared a few moments ago, and he is in his bed taking a nap.

The Cat is on my bed watching Boobah attempting to settle down so he won’t get into trouble again.

And I am enjoying my beer. Happy Friday!

I debated whether to awaken him.

I played out the scenarios in my head. If he awakened within the next couple hours, getting him to sleep again at night would be hell. The hot weather, current lack of A/C, and a recent nap would combine for a difficult night.

But awakening him would “reward” him by allowing him to swim, and he might be grumpy during the lesson since he hadn’t finished the nap. Since it is a private lesson, I’d have to cancel, attempt to reschedule, and the make-up would likely be a group lesson, if there would be one at all. I didn’t want to interrupt the “flow,” but the lack of sleep had already wreaked havoc today.

In favor of tiring him out for a more productive sleep tonight, I chose to let him have the lesson.

It took awhile to get him up. I tried light backrubs, tickles on his feet, medium-toned encouragements in his ear, and then finally a louder request for him to get up.

“I thought you said I had to sleep for a long, long time to be a good boy,” was his response. “I need to sleep more!”

He was pretty good at lessons. I saw him cry a few times but it appeared out of fear rather than disobedience. He was swimming unassisted nearly the whole (short) length of the pool but would panic when he saw how far he had come. Then he was afraid to dive in (from his knees, but missile-arms out, head first.) He did it once, and then cried because he was afraid to do it again. The teacher encouraged him, and he successfully “dove” in twice more. He was touchy, but was following the teacher’s instructions.

Pleased at his success, I told him we could go to the lagoon. Husband and Splig were looking forward to it, so I couldn’t penalize them. And I wanted to sit in the water, too.

On the way back home to pick up Husband and Splig, the Cat started getting goofy and wild. Then in the car on the way to the lagoon, he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. I was wary.

But at the lagoon, he did quite well. So did Splig. The Cat showed off his swimming skills, and Splig attempted to replicate them (swallowing a bunch of water in the process.) Thankfully, our family outing to cool off worked swimmingly.

However, once home the Cat started to act out again. He’s had one time-out, but is now watching TV relatively peacefully with Splig. My guess is that they will both be asleep by the end of the hour.

Meanwhile, I had a web client today who couldn’t get something to work and it turned out he had deleted a vital file off the server. I made everything work, but then he uploaded some pages he had been working on locally, thereby rewriting my corrected files. Ugh.

Let’s hope the A/C is fixed, and we will have had a pretty decent evening!

We already had our A/C fixed, but turns out it was two years ago and was apparently related to an electrical problem (that I think still exists in part) rather than with the actual A/C system. Was it really two years ago?

So tonight we are scheduled for a visit with the A/C man.

But last night, we slept with fans and open windows in an attempt to coax in the nice nighttime air.

I tossed and turned.
Husband awakened multiple times..
Spliggle squiggled in a pile of sweat.
And the Cat awakened grumpy.

The Cat has been a great boy this week. He has tried harder at school and has been fairly cooperative and polite at home. Certainly there are little infractions, but his overall demeanor was sweet and much improved.

Watching him this morning, my heart sank a bit. He was clearly “off” again.

Still, I crossed my fingers that he could pull it together for school. They were scheduled for a field trip, and he knows he has swim lessons this afternoon and perhaps a trip to the lagoon afterwards.

Imagining the calm, polite boy with whom I’ve interacted the last couple days, I planned a little mommy-son time for after school. Splig is in preschool until 3:00pm and Husband is picking him up, so the Cat and I had the potential of about three hours to spend time alone.

I thought we’d go to lunch; maybe do a little shopping (he likes to shop.) We’d visit the “flower store” (Lowe’s) and perhaps do a little planting (or at least plan the planting: it is expected to reach over 100 today, so time spent outdoors during daylight might be kept to only when we are in water.)

I was excited to have a little time with just my eldest.

But when I got to the Cat’s classroom, he was nowhere to be found.

The teacher somberly explained that he had had a horrible day and was currently sitting at a table in another classroom. “We needed to have him away from the other children,” she explained.

I was horrified as she explained how he had hit a classmate. He didn’t listen during the field trip. He darted away from the adults. He shrieked.

When she retrieved him, the two of them had a talk about what had happened and why he was on a timeout in the other room.

The Cat looked wiped out. His face was grey and droopy. He cried angry and exhausted tears as he whined his version of the story. “‘Daisy’ (not her real name) hit me first,” he pleaded, and then wailed “She hurt my neck!”

The teacher shook her head and then turned to me. “I saw the whole thing. Daisy put her hands up to block his hits. She didn’t hurt his neck.”

On one hand, I trusted her. If she had seen it transpire, then I believe what she saw.

But then on the other hand, I had a tiny bit of doubt. Spliggle had a run-in with Daisy months ago. He was on the playground with her (and other current students) while the Cat had his Kindergarten readiness assessment. I remembered her. She had been bossy. She had thrown a toy over the playground fence and blamed it on another child. Was this typical of her, or one bad day?

I don’t doubt that the Cat was a disaster today. I don’t doubt that he hit Daisy. But I must admit that the overall denial that Daisy couldn’t have had anything to do with it worried me. Chances are, the teacher is right. But I wonder what would happen “next time” if Daisy is bossy with the Cat like she was with Splig. Would the teacher believe her because she has seen the Cat behave poorly?

My expectation is that the teacher understands Daisy’s and the other children’s temperaments and will come to know the Cat’s such that it isn’t one child consistently being blamed. (After all, I certainly don’t want to be hypocritical and believe that Daisy is somehow a problem child given the one afternoon I met her!) But given our experience last year of how the Cat was treated differently than his classmates, I suppose I am twice-shy.

I don’t want to be “that mother” who insists that it is always some other kid presenting the problem. But I also don’t want my kid to unjustifiably always be the one in trouble. If he is sincerely the only one misbehaving, then I need to address that honestly. In the midst of my disappointment about the Cat’s behavior, I did have that little sliver of doubt, coupled with a concern that he will be the trouble child, whether appropriately labeled or not.

But my main focus wasn’t concern over the overreaching future as I unlocked the van. I was disappointed that I couldn’t take him on a little excursion. I was angry and wanted him to understand why his behavior was unacceptable. I was concerned that he gets enough sleep to do well at swim lessons this afternoon.

I fought with myself over how strict I should be. I shouldn’t blame his behavior 100% on his lack of sleep. But yet I know it played a role. Was I naïve to believe so? Would I be too soft on him because I figured it was partially caused by a factor outside his control? (After all, Husband is tired today. I am confused and drowsy. Our behavior is altered.)

I was stern as I spoke to the Cat about his difficult day. I explained why each of the things he did was wrong. I banished him to his room “until swim lessons,” but explained that if he didn’t shape-up, there would be no swim lessons. I revealed that I hoped he’d take a nap during his time in his room. (Three hours.) “Snuggle up in your blanket and relax. You’ll wake up a better boy,” I explained.

He erupted into a new batch of tears, “Sleeping will make me a bad boy. I have bad dreams and I become a bad boy.”

“Did you have bad dreams last night?”

“Yes. I don’t want to sleep. Mine dreams are very scary. I am a bad boy.”

“Snuggle up with your blanket and think happy thoughts. Think about playing in the water. Think about your friends. Think about the fun things you like to do. Then you’ll have happy dreams and you’ll wake up happier.”

As I mentioned the word “friends” he cried harder. “My friends don’t love me. Nobody loves me at Kindergarten,” he wailed.

The conversation that ensued both broke my heart and made me concerned that he was being a little drama king and/or manipulator. The words coming out of his mouth were the same pleads of feared isolation that I had spoken as an elementary school student. My mother had reassured me that if I was nice to the other kids, they’d be nice to me. But we know that isn’t true. Still, I heard my mother’s words as I spoke to the Cat.

Many of the other kids already know each other. Several of them had been in the school before and just happened to be doing the “academic” program that is required of all new kids. I think the Cat is only one of two or three brand-new kids. It makes sense that the “old” kids would congregate together since they are more familiar with each other. And if the Cat has had a difficult time behaving or has been hitting them, then it is understandable that they haven’t wanted to play with him.

Interestingly, though, the Cat hadn’t had trouble making friends in preschool. The year before last, he had been Tuesday/Thursday. He switched last year to MWF where the majority of the kids already knew each other. But he became friends with them. As much as I hated it when the Cat’s former teacher would remind me how lucky he was that the kids in his class were so accepting, I definitely believe it.

I hope that as he becomes more comfortable and is behaving better on a more consistent basis that he makes friends. I am trying to convince him that it is in his best interests to be kind, polite, and use his words because that will increase the possibility that he makes friends. But I know it isn’t a sure thing. I don’t want to give him the unrealistic hope that you just need to be nice to get nice in return. But for a Kindergartener, the intricacies of fickle children (and being a doormat as an adult) are best left quiet.

While his comments of “nobody loves me at Kindergarten” and “I want people to love me now!” might just be prompted by one bad day, I admit I’ve thought about his concerns on a more global scale. This is the upshot of my fears surrounding the whole ASD-like behaviors: Will he be liked? Will his teachers like him? Will anyone respect him? Or will he be isolated against his wishes?

For those who say the social missteps of those with an ASD are indicative of not wanting to be social, I beg of you to consider that there might be a deep desire to be social, but an inability to do it in a productive manner. I know I wanted friends so badly that I ended up sabotaging my efforts to earn them. I don’t want the same thing to happen to the Cat.

So instead of a peaceful lunch with my son, I’ve ended up with an afternoon rehashing my own insecurities in light of my son’s behavior, yet realizing that I shouldn’t overreact.

Hopefully the A/C man will make us comfortable tonight, for a more enjoyable day tomorrow. But in the meantime, I hope not to be dragged down by the Cat’s childhood fears.

Spliggle loves Salsitas, so perhaps he snagged the jalapeño n’ cheese ones from the same maker. (Oh well, I ate some marshmallows instead. I am being particularly bad today: already two pieces of chocolate, two beers, and six marshmallows!)

I have heard of kids being sent to bed without supper, but in Splig’s case, he was sent to bed last night because of supper.

He has become quite a little independent guy. Our kitchen has become completely Spliggle-self-serve.

Yesterday, he brought me a box of pasta.

“Yes, I’ll make it in a moment. Mommy has to finish something up for a client.”

I then heard the din of bouncing tiny little pasta shells hitting the hard kitchen floor. And Spliggle-giggles.

“Squee poured out the pasta!” yelled the Cat, somewhat pleased. (Yeah, he calls his brother “Squee.”)

I put on the water to boil a new batch. Bonus of having the first thrown on the floor? Double-cheese for the second!

In the agonizing time waiting for the boil, and then the finish of the second batch of pasta, the Cat used the Dustbuster until it died. Alas, the majority of the pasta still lay on the floor. I think most of the charge was eaten-up by tormenting Spliggle than by sucking up pasta shells.

Splig was pleased when I set the double-cheese pasta in front of him.

I turned back to my work.

Then I smelled blueberry yogurt. Splig giggled and wiped some on my pants.

“How did he get blueberry yogurt?” I questioned, half-yelling.

“Oh, I am such a helpful, good boy!” responded the Cat.

The kitchen floor was now a combination of spilled uncooked pasta, fully cooked pasta, and blueberry yogurt. Add in some stickers and Husband’s shoe and we had quite a sight.

When I entered the living room, I saw a new mess:

The stuffed dog has died in horror. Pillows, elephant-dung paper strewn about. Yeah.

(Thankfully, the Cat helped me clean up a bit!)

Oh well. I enjoyed the double-cheese pasta (served with Trader Joe’s almond-applesauce pork chops: Mmmm!) And once Splig was sent to bed, I was able to do a little bit of cleaning before being fully horrified with The Trials of Henry Kissinger. I had left a comment with Mothergoosemouse on her well-written post about the military about how I was completely ignorant about why we have to have war, and why we stick our noses into other people’s business. Whoa, did that movie reinforce my dumbfoundedness. How could we do that to Chile? Why would someone be so evil as to prolong a war for his own gain? Do we see parallels between what happened then and what is happening now? Add to that the video of the Pentagon security cameras (Where’s the plane? Where’s the debris a plane would have created? Missile anyone?) and I don’t know what to believe.

The Cat has been a great boy today. Splig has been crafty. He has already dumped out paperclips, scattered pens, and poured water on the floor. But like last night, he has now been confined to his crib. (He hasn’t remembered that he already knows how to climb out it. I wonder if he simply figures that if it is nap/bed time that he might as well sleep.)

Soon we’ll take off for swim lessons, and then probably go to the lagoon again. (I’ve updated the set to include some photos taken yesterday!)

It doesn’t help that I took some Nyquil the other night for a cold and ended up having some very realistic dreams: some scary, some kind of cool, but all very convincingly real. (I actually had a BlogHer dream in the mix. Nice to meet y’all – can’t wait to do it for real!)

Fortunately, the Cat seems to have calmed down considerably from the start of all the chaos (his crazy graduation, a hectic weekend, continued wildness, and hopes for improvement.) He continues to enjoy his new school. The campout was a great experience for him, despite the little missteps that frustrated me when I saw his behavior as compared to other kids the same age. But, he is proud to have slept in a tent. And his teacher told me yesterday afternoon that he has been listening better in class.

Spliggle started swim lessons yesterday. (Originally we weren’t going to start for another two weeks, but openings became available.) The Cat was proud to introduce his brother and mommy. He puffed up his chest, walked up to the swim coordinator and announced, “This is my brother Spliggle. He is almost two. My name is Cat and I am five. Then this is Kari. Kari and Spliggle will be taking lessons today in the baby class.”

The Cat lucked out and is in a lesson by himself. We’ve paid for a group lesson for a half hour, but he’ll instead get a private lesson for twenty minutes. I glanced over a couple times and saw him cooperating beautifully. As much as he enjoys having other kids in his class, I am glad he is having a session worth of private lessons.

Meanwhile, Spliggle wasn’t hot on the bubble-blowing. He thought being dragged across the pool on his tummy was cool, but was less convinced about being on his back. He enjoyed throwing and retrieving a floating saucer (to assist freestyle arms.) His favorite activity was jumping into the pool.

We got a pass to the local park system over the weekend. One park has a swimming lagoon that is part sand and part “regular” cement pool. Husband was shocked at its size and how even with enough people to fill a large parking lot, the swimming area was vast such that we didn’t feel crowded. He says the photos I took last year don’t do it justice. I think we’ll be spending many hours at that lagoon! The Cat has already requested that we go there this evening after his lessons. (Apparently, the lessons are only the appetizer to the main course.)

My one big mistake yesterday was not changing Splig’s clothes after lessons. I thought, “Oh yeah, let the boys run around in their swim suits all night!” and then I remembered Spliggle had a swim diaper on. Duh. And of course he went #2. So I had to carefully remove the diaper and was shocked to find an entire lollypop stick. I am hoping the stick didn’t travel through his digestive system, though I can’t figure out how else it could have gotten there. It wasn’t there during the swim lesson and we don’t have lollypops at home. My shiver-inducing guess is that he had consumed it under his chair at the movies Friday.

Although it feels like my mind is a bit water-logged, especially given that several of my dormant clients all of a sudden decided NOW was the time to do some updates, it is an exciting time. In a week and a half, Splig turns two. Then he starts at the new school (thereby simplifying my commuting considerably.) As is always the pattern, I am right now content with the Cat’s behavior, but expect that at some point I’ll again be scratching my head trying to figure him out.

One of my clients wanted me to post information about a possible link between the MMR vaccine and autism. Their faith in the correlation was unwavering. It was interesting for me to compose their newsletter. Although I wasn’t convinced by their documentation in particular, I’ve seen lots of persuasive evidence. Of course I didn’t reveal to my client that I have a special interest in such research.

I admit it is strange to consider my reaction in different “hats:” as a former neuroscientist studying behavior, as a mother concerned about her child’s strange antics, and as a web-designer hired to post the scientific information without presumption of insider knowledge on the subject. Who am I again?

My mom had called me Thursday night wondering what the latest was from her grandsons. I had explained the various ups and downs of the last couple weeks. She offered her opinion (prefacing it with “I know you don’t like to take advice, but…”) saying that she thought I should just leave an event the moment the Cat had a problem. “He’ll get the idea quickly,” she thought, if I were to remove him from a potentially pleasurable situation at the first inkling of disobedience.

The campout had plenty of opportunities where perhaps my mom would have counseled me to leave. However, I felt the potential for success was such that we should hang on even after minor infractions in the hopes that the Cat would have a triumph that would end up being foundation for something better.

Friday morning was the Cars movie. That went well for the Cat, and was a disaster for Splig. Not surprisingly, both boys fell asleep afterwards.

Later in the afternoon, I brought Splig over to my parents so they could watch him while Husband had an event. I took the Cat to the campout, and then Husband picked up Spliggle when he was done with his meeting.

I dropped Spliggle off a bit earlier than originally intended because I wanted to take the Cat to the store to procure Cat-safe graham crackers and chocolate for s’mores. I had already gotten some nice organic all-natural marshmallows, but had forgotten to get the other ingredients.

To my surprise, the Cat fell asleep on the way to the store. It was difficult to awaken him, and it took awhile for him to be completely cognizant. Thankfully, by the time we got to his school he appeared awake.

Unfortunately, he was reluctant to join in the games at the campout. He was excited about setting up the tent, and enjoyed the unstructured play-on-the-playground time, but when it came time for the scheduled activities, he had trouble following instructions. At one point he moaned, “I am sooooo tired!” Thankfully, the other attendees laughed, but I was concerned.

During one of the headmasters’ speeches about listening, the Cat didn’t listen. He ran away and started playing with rocks. I was definitely tempted to leave, but didn’t, as I hoped for later success.

The campout was on the campus, right smack in their play area. I thought it was kind of cool to know that I’ve now slept in an elementary school playground, surrounded by geese, goats, and a very vocal peacock. Until early Saturday morning, I could only imagine what it would be like to be awakened by a rooster. Now I know. Ugh!

The Cat was funny. One moment, he’d beg to roast marshmallows, but then when it was time, he’d freak out instructing me to do it. When the Headmaster dictated fire safety and talked about “grown ups do this” and “kids do that,” the Cat announced for all to hear that he was a grown-up. When the Headmaster told us it was time for a creek walk, the previously tired Cat became animated, shouting, “Okay everybody! Follow me to the creek! I am first. I am the leader. My name is Marie!”

It has been months since he’s referred to himself as “Marie.” The recently dusted-off Aristocats DVD has no doubt led to his revised obsession. I wasn’t pleased about this timing.

He jumped from not wanting to be involved to being the leader. He bounced from reluctance to bossiness every step of the way. I worried, as is my nature, and would try to get him to comply with the instructions.

“I want to play flashlight games”
“No, actually I just want to stare at the stars”
“Let’s go to sleep in the tent”
“No, let’s roast marshmallows”
“We have to sleep in the tent?”
“I am afraid to sleep in the tent!”
“That light is on, so now I will sleep a really long time” (after I put on a flashlight, which I switched off two minutes later after it started to burn my foot.)

Each time he would shriek or not participate, I’d wonder if we should just leave. But at the same time, I knew that sticking it out would enable him to have a success. Sure enough, five minutes after we entered our tent, he was asleep. The next morning he was surprised, “It is the morning? I slept the whole night in the tent?”

A success.

So even though he had some difficulty following instructions, I know he is proud to have slept in a tent all night.

I had the opportunity to chat with both headmasters, two of the teachers, and several of the parents once the kids had gone to sleep. We had wine and beer which magically appeared where once only hot dogs and punch had stood.

The candid conversation that followed was enjoyable and reassuring. I enjoyed bonding with these people since our family’s success at the school depends on my involvement as well as the Cat’s and Spliggle’s conduct while there. Hearing from one woman whose (successful) nineteen year old had been through this school’s elementary program was definitely a testament to the school.

The rest of the weekend has been similarly up and down. The Cat has had moments of wonderful compliance, and other times of stubborn defiance. We’ve taken the kids to a great swimming lagoon and tired them out.

Today, Husband was sad that he didn’t get a chance to sleep in, and ended up being the one who made the waffles. However, I still haven’t received a Mother’s Day gift, and I cleaned up the waffle-making mess. ;-)

Happy Father’s Day, Husband! Your ping-pong table is supposed to count for Father’s Day as well as for your birthday. :P

Both boys gave their daddy extra kisses today. (And the Cat had already made two cards, plus a chocolate-strawberry and chocolate-pretzel confection.) After Splig half-awakened from his nap he snuggled with Daddy for awhile before being completely energized. As we got ready to leave for the evening, he was distraught, “Where Daddy? Dadddddyyyyy??!??” Both boys love their daddy.

We went to an excellent Father’s Day BBQ thrown by my cousins. The boys had an absolute blast and were well behaved. I hope Husband had a good time as well. He allowed me to be the designated drunk to his designated driver, so I definitely had a good time.

My parents bought him a book on blogging and I had to laugh since they don’t know about this blog, and because several of the individuals mentioned in the book I have been two feet away from during the first BlogHer.

The weekend was a success, but during the campout I saw some of the listening problems about which the teacher informed me. I had a pow-wow with my mom (who had to deal with similar problems with the Kindergarten-aged me) last night that initially comforted me, but now makes me nervous. I know I am doing what I can to approach these concerns, but at the same time I end up feeling overwhelmed.

It is definitely a balancing act between being strong versus not trying to be a hero. The Cat tries hard, but at the same time his behaviors can be frustrating. The scale of teaching versus praising versus punishing versus just throwing one’s arms up is precarious.

And I know I am not alone. Husband is experiencing similar frustrations with the Cat: extreme love and yet confounding frustration. We have triumphs. We have challenges. And we have a near-two-year-old who is now demanding more attention than the Cat at times.

Thank you Husband for sharing in the Cat and Spliggle’s roller-coaster! Happy Father's Day!

The two of us packed Cat-safe popcorn and Cat-safe soda, and then got dressed to go to the movie.

Spliggle was asleep and it was nearly time to leave. I reluctantly poked him a bit, but he kept turning over in an attempt to continue sleeping.

Finally, Splig was dressed and we were off.

We arrived on time and joined other parents and children in front of the closed theater. It took several minutes before we were let in. Then another fifteen to twenty until the rest of the kids were there. The logistics of everyone getting popcorn, a drink, and some candy had been taken care of quite well (there was an assembly line) but the arrival times were so staggered that by the time the movie started Splig had already eaten two boxes of candy, some popcorn, and a drink. (He had dumped one on the floor, too.) His attention span had already been maxed out. Perhaps I should have let him run around the theater as everyone was arriving, but there was so much chaos that I imagine he would have run out the front door.

Splig was spliggle-a-ble. He watched the movie short (“One Man Band”) and giggled. He was excited when “Cars” came on, but wanted to squirm away. I gave him a little leeway (we had a few empty seats near us) but I realized soon I couldn’t contain him.

I chased after him twice, ducking in front of others and in front of the very first row. (He wanted to touch the cars.) I walked him around the lobby, but he pointed back to the movie. We huddled in the entryway a bit. We ducked back into our original seats. I let him crawl under his seat, even though I knew he was eating the candy he had dropped on the ground and who-knows-what-else. I kept trying to position him in either his own seat or on my lap. He would agree, snuggling up to his blankie, but only remain stable for thirty seconds before the spliggliness began again.

I figured other kids would be running around the theater (the two-year old class was there, after all!) But everyone was sitting still. The area with the toddlers was a battlefield of popcorn, but they were all in their seats.

The Cat was in his seat. He had been in his seat the whole time. He was smiling at the screen and completely focused on the movie. When Splig’s foot would jab over to his seat, he would calmly push it back. No violence. No shrieks. No problems from the Cat.

After getting hit, grabbed, pulled-on, and after going deaf from his screams, I held Splig tightly as I whispered to the Cat that I had to take Spliggie away but that I would come back to get him at the end of the movie. The Cat nodded.

Outside, I was stunned that I had just left my five year old alone in a movie theater. Of course, it was closed to everyone except their school, so I wasn’t truly worried about anyone else causing a problem. But I wondered about what the Cat’s behavior would be. Given how interested in the movie he appeared, I figured he’d be okay.

Outside, Splig melted. We sat in the van for awhile, but it was hot. We walked across the street to check out a fountain, but he tried to get inside. We walked in the garden area of a restaurant, but he lost interest. We found another fountain and he attempted to grab coins off the bottom. I put him back in the car. Then it was too hot again, and we returned to the second fountain after discovering that attempts to re-enter the movie theater were in vain. The door was locked. Splig kept saying, “This way!” and “Movie!” which is more vocabulary than he usually expresses. Then he kept muttering, “Mamamamamama” as he rubbed his eyes.

Usually he calls me “Daddy.”

A man and a woman sat on a bench near the fountain. I let Splig put his hand in the water, but directed him back out as he attempted to climb in. I saw the people eye me suspiciously and their conversation dropped to small whispers. They clearly felt violated. Spliggle beamed. “Water! Water!” he laughed.

I had seen other people near this fountain earlier in our game of “waste time waiting for the movie to end,” so I assumed it was a public area. One man had gone into another building from this plaza. Another had gone into a restaurant.

After less than thirty seconds, the woman announced to the man, “Well, we’ve got to go elsewhere.” And she left.

The man started to leave, paused, and then grabbed the metal gate leading to the plaza. “This gate is supposed to be closed. The restaurant isn’t open yet.”

“Well, I didn’t open it.” I protested as I scooped up Spliggle.

“This is not meant for people until the restaurant is open.”

(“This” meaning an effing-fountain and a couple benches!)

Spliggle screamed, arm extended above my shoulder, reaching for the fountain. He then tugged on my ear and pulled my hair in protest as we walked away from the plaza.

(Clearly Splig realized the special value of “this that must be withheld from the public unless the adjacent restaurant is open”. And “especially take it away if it provides joy to a toddler.”)

I kept checking the clock. Minutes dragged on. When would this movie end?

I was tired of attempting to contain Splig. If he had his way, he’d dart into traffic or into a store. “This way! This way!” and then a scream. My ears hurt. My arms hurt. We hung out in the van again, A/C cranked up high.

When I saw a cinema employee cleaning the windows, I realized I could reenter. I took Splig and occupied him in the air-conditioned lobby with the drinking fountain. He watched with glee as large amounts of popcorn were being created in time for the official opening time. Splig was still darting around tiring me, but it was a more contained and cooler place than outside.

A teacher taking a child to the bathroom saw me and told me that the Cat had gotten frightened at one point and was now sitting with her. I hoped he hadn’t been disruptive, but when I crept in with Splig a few minutes later I saw he was silently engrossed in the movie.

Splig sat on my lap for the last ten minutes of the movie. I rocked him back and forth and let him snuggle up against his blankie. We were sitting on the floor in the aisle, which allowed him to use me as a recliner rather than being contained by his original seat.

At the end of the movie, the Cat followed my instructions as we signed out with the teachers and left.

As a reward, I bought him a hamburger and fries. I ate my own burger as we drove, spilling sauce on my shirt and arm but not caring because I was so tired and so hungry. As we got home, I licked my arm (yeah, I know = gross) and was surprised to taste pickle relish. I think Splig had picked up some old hot dog condiments from beneath his seat and it transferred to my arm during one of our struggles. What a pleasant thought! (Let’s hope Splig and I stay healthy. ICK!)

In a reversal of yesterday, the Cat has been perfectly cooperative while Spliggle as been quite a challenge.

Spliggle has been unable to get down for a nap. He is too hot, too thirsty, and without his blanket. Alas, his blanket was drenched in soda and spotted in half-eaten Mike N’ Ikes. It is in the washing machine.

So instead of much needed sleep, he is exercising his overused vocal cords from his crib.

Earlier, when Husband (who had been working from home) came out of the house to greet us, asking how the movie had been, Spliggle jumped over the seat, spliggled into the driver’s seat, and leaned up against the horn such that it blared loudly for several seconds.

That just about sums it up.