Writing a Book for Aliza

I always, always want to be writing.  Or reading.  One or the other.  I've been working on the story of AJ and Zachary for almost a year now, and just this weekend about starting a new project.

Aliza doesn't really love to read.  A few times in her life she's found a book series she really likes - she loved Junie B. Jones and the My Weird School series a couple of years ago and I thought I had a lifelong reader in my house.  It was short lived, thought.  For the most part, she doesn't live for used book sales like her mother does.

I guess maybe at her age, I didn't either.  I did love reading though.  There wasn't much to pick from, so I just read my favorites over and over.  The Beverly Cleary books, the Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, the Oz books, and Judy Blume.  I loved them all and read and reread them.  Of course, I didn't have an iPod.

I've given Aliza a few of the old "classics" that I know I was into when I was her age, but she just can't get hooked.  Even with some of the new titles that are out there now, she can't find something she really likes.  Harry Potter?  Moved too slow.

This weekend I realized what I should be doing to help her.  I should be writing a book for her to read.

So I told her my plan. "You need to help me come up with a good idea," I told her.  She enthusiastically agreed.

"So what subject should I write about?  What kind of books do you like?"

She assumed her thoughtful look. "Well," she began slowly, "I like books that have pictures."

Great.   I'll get going on that picture book.

"You've sure got your hands full!"

You're shopping with your children, trying to work your way through the cereal aisle.  You have one, two, three, four, five kids.  It doesn't matter how many.  As long as they carry an atmosphere of noisy chaos wherever they go.  Constantly on the brink of disaster.  You're used to it.  Sure, you'd prefer to shop without them, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.  And today you are out of Honeycomb.

Other shoppers can hear you two aisles over, and you just know they are hurrying their carts the other way, hoping to avoid you.  Because maybe they left their kids at home, and maybe they aren't in the mood.  Some of them, though, looking at cereal right alongside you, can't help but lock eyes with you.

"Wow," they say, smiling in a sure-glad-it's-you-and-not-me way. "You've sure got your hands full!"

Yeah, I hear it all the time.  We all do.  Moms of special needs children, moms of multiples, moms of big families in general.  All the time.  Don't you wish you had a good comeback, other than just a laugh and a shrug?  Here's some suggestions. 

Feel free to add yours in the comments.  Can't wait to see what you come up with!

For when you want to remain polite:

Yeah, I get that a lot.


Yes, and we like them that way!


They keep me out of trouble!


For when you want to be a smart-ass:

It could be worse - he could be twins/they could be triplets/quads/ etc. (whatever would be more than what you have...)


I'm sorry, what did you say?  Couldn't hear you over the din.  Could we chat later, in about 12 years when my kids are less of a handful?


Yep.  My hands, my house, my minivan, my grocery cart, pretty much everything except my bank account.


For when you just want to be clever:

No, not really, they all fit in my pocket.


(smile and wink) You should see the ones I left at home!


Well, luckily, I have learned how to juggle!

You've got to have a sense of humor about it.  Or else you'll end up imagining a wild scenario where stacks of soup cans suddenly fly off the shelves and pummel people who say things like that.  Not that I've ever done that.

A Few Random Kids Funnies

Every weekend, I try to get a blog post together to post on Monday morning.  This past weekend, it didn't quite happen.  Instead, I'm going to publish this post with a few funny kid moments I've been saving for a rainy day...

1. AJ came in to wake me one morning, saying "mom? mom?" Having had a couple of hours of adventures earlier in the morning with Zack, I'd slept a little late so he woke me from a deep sleep at 7:30 AM. Having found me asleep, he came over next to me, laid his head down on the bed and fake snored. "Hawwww ssshhhh, hawwww sssshhhhh."

2. Forevermore when I see a llama I will think of the time when the boys were 2 and Aliza was 4, and we were driving back home from the ranch where we took the boys horseback riding, and we passed a farm that raised those long-haired, big fluffy llamas. And little Aliza looked out the window and said "wow, those are some biiiig chickens!"

3. Remember AJ loving his new train in the bathtub? On this night he held the train up in the air again shouting "a train, a train!" and then he tried to hand it over to Zack and said "you say it."  Zack just smiled, he wouldn't be coerced into talking that easily!

4. One afternoon AJ was labeling items in the living room, with his therapist.  Here's how it went:
Therapist (pointing at the couch):  AJ, what's this?
AJ:  it's a couch.
Therapist (pointing at the fireplace):  AJ what's this?
AJ it's a fireplace.
Therapist (pointing over at me, sitting at the computer):  AJ, who's that?
AJ:  It's a mom.
We laughed and laughed!

She Says the Darndest Things

Remember that show "Kids Say the Darndest Things" with Art Linkletter, where he'd interview kids and they'd all say outrageous, hilarious things?  The best was when they'd say something that you knew had to embarrass their parents.

If you don't remember it, it's because that show is from back when there was no color in the world and everything was in black and white and tones of gray, as evidenced by the black and white pictures and movies and TV shows.  You know what I'm talking about.

Sometimes I email funny stories about the kids to my mom, and she in turn sends them in to the editor of the Bulletin Board column in the St. Paul Pioneer Press.  Bulletin Board is a collection of random human interest stories, sent in by readers.  Both these stories about Aliza recently made it into print.

A couple of weeks ago I was putting away clothes, and I brought a pile into Aliza's room for her to put away.  I take them out of her room, wash, dry, and sort.  All she has to do is hang them up or stuff them into a drawer.  I really don't think I'm overworking her here, but feel free to disagree.

I went in a few minutes later to check on her progress and she is only on her second or third shirt, sighing heavily.  "It's like yesterday was my last day as a kid," she declares.

"Why is that?"  I ask, I must admit unsympathetically.
"Because I'm having to hang up my own clothes."

At NASA, last June.

The second story occurred just about a week ago.  Aliza and I were headed out to the American Girl Bistro for dinner, just her and I.  It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I let her pick.  I was intending to tell her about her premutation carrier status.  I found out actually a couple of years back that she is a carrier of the Fragile X gene, but I hadn't told her yet.  I took some time to deal with that this meant for her future, and at the International Fragile X Conference last month, I decided I really needed to have this talk with her.  She is old enough to understand and I was beginning to feel like I was keeping something from her.

So I planned for a mother-daughter dinner, and allowed her to pick her favorite restaurant.  She likes the American Girl Bistro because you can bring your doll along and she sits at the table and has a tiny, doll-sized meal and drink and dessert right along with you.  It's adorable.

Anyway we left the house distractly, and realized halfway to the Mall of America that we had forgotten to bring along one of her dolls.  She looked like she was going to have a breakdown.  I did an internal eye roll.  Oh good grief.  Was this going to overshadow our whole meal and chat?

Then I remembered something.  "You know, you can borrow a doll there, to sit at the table and have dinner with us."

It's true.  They have a whole shelf full of dolls in little pink highchairs that you can pick from.

Aliza looked doubtful.  "Well, it'll be weird, having dinner with a doll I don't know," she replied.

So she and I took a stranger doll out for a blind date.

And our talk, about her carrier status?  Completely uneventful.  It was literally about 90 seconds of our whole hour and a half dinner conversation.  She wanted to know what it meant, and I told her that right now really, it didn't mean anything.  I told her when she's older it could mean that she'd have kids with Fragile X too.  And she shrugged her shoulders at that.  I am raising a child who, so far, thinks that having a kid with Fragile X is not a big deal.

Going to have to think about that one.

Late Night with AJ

If it's true that everybody wants to be friends with the funny guy, AJ is going to be very popular one day soon.  The kid's a stitch.

This afternoon at Courage Center, AJ went back to work with Zack's therapist.  She doesn't know them well enough to know the difference, and I wasn't paying attention with who went with whom.  So no one noticed at first.  The therapist did get suspicious within a couple of minutes though, and she asked him "Are you Zack?  Or are you AJ?"

And AJ replied "I Zack."  So the error went on for a few more minutes until we all figured out what he'd done.

Then tonight after dinner, AJ was watching something on the iPad.  He left for a couple of minutes, and the iPad shut off automatically, as it tends to do when it's left idle.  This happens at least a dozen times a day.

AJ returned, looked down at the black screen, and exclaimed in mock horror, "Oh no, it's gone!"

Zack Funnies

Just a quick note to mention a couple of funny things Zack said this week.  Most of the time my funny-little-boy stories are about AJ.  He is the comedian.

Zack gave him a run for his money this week, though.

One night I was getting the tub ready for Zack to take a bath.  He came in and immediately got naked, because baths are very fun.  He bounced and hopped excitedly around the bathroom while I rinsed out the tub and then he came over and lifted the toilet seat.

(They aren't potty trained even a little bit, but we make stabs at it occasionally.)

I asked him "do you want to sit on the potty?"

He said yes, so I helped him hoist himself up there.  He got right back down less than a second later.  He turned around, reached up to flush with one hand (even though he hadn't done anything worth flushing), and with the other hand he waved into the toilet and said "Bye, pee.  Gracias."

Thank you, Dora the Explorer, for making my boys not only biligual, but very polite!

The second big talking event Zack had was earlier this week.  I was downstairs cleaning up the spots where the cat pooped (because apparently, I don't get to clean up enough poop from these boys every day, the cat thinks I need to be more involved in her bodily functions as well.)

Zack came halfway down the stairs and said "Mom!"

I turned around and said "hi Zack, whatcha doing?"

Zack took in the scene -- me, crouched in front of several icky spots on the carpet with some carpet cleaner and paper towels, and announced ,"Oh, mess.  Bye!"

It was just so unusual to hear a clear, meaningful message from him.

I just had to record these two instances for posterity.

Of course we are wondering whether the extra talking Zack is doing might be a result of the STX209 medication.  Hard to say, but it's definitely a possibility.

The Escalator Ride

We went to the mall this morning, just to walk around.

If you go before any stores open, it's nice and quiet and empty.   A great place to let little monkeys run around.

After the stores opened, Aliza wanted to look in a little toy store.  It's right by some escalators.  Which are basically an amusement park ride, as far as AJ is concerned.  He did his imitation of a puppy (i.e., whining) and strained toward them, as I held hard to his hand.

Then I decided, what the heck.  Stores had only been open for about 10 minutes.  There was nobody around.

I told Aliza we were going to ride the escalator.  I can see inside the toy store the entire time.  So she can stay there and look at toys.  I abandoned our stroller at the top of the escalator and took a boy by each hand, and we stepped onto the down escalator.

AJ squealed and laughed, as if we were on the rollercoaster.  As we got close to the bottom I warned the boys -

"okay we're almost at the bottom, get ready."

And AJ looked down where the escalator stairs magically flatten out and disappear, and he waved said wistfully "buh- bye, stairs.  buh-bye."

We turned around and went right back up.   The "up" was just as exciting as the "down."

We rode the escalator ride three times, always watching the stairs disappear, waving and telling them "buh-bye, stairs!"

Seriously, could that kid BE any cuter?

Trophys, Ribbons, & Metals

This past Tuesday, I got a trophy.   Two of them, actually.   It was the Minnesota Valley Mothers of Multiples spring banquet, and I was awarded one of two lifetime achievement awards.   I came home with two trophies.

Aliza, winner of numerous ribbons and medals from various extracurricular activities such as soccer, dance, and science fair, was green with envy.   She's never gotten a trophy.  It doesn't matter if she won first place; all that matters is what kind of award she got.

So when she saw my two trophies on the table, she went all wide-eyed.

"Can I have them?"  She asked.

"Sure, I guess," I told her. 

She quickly scratched my name right off them and put them in her awards display.

The important thing is the possessing of the award, not the actual winning of it, evidently.

(And I guess medals are often made of metal, so it only makes sense that the two words would be interchangeable, as well as homonyms.)

My Little Royal

Aliza got up to watch some of the Royal Wedding with me Friday morning.  She was there in time to see Prince William and Princess Catherine in the horse-drawn carriage, riding down the street, smiling and waving at the thousands of onlookers and fans.  She was impressed.

"Wow, I could get used to that."  She said.

I don't know how she's going to ever be a princess though, when she's decided she doesn't like princess-y dresses.  Her First Communion is this weekend and our dress shopping adventure yesterday was painful.  All the church-appropriate dresses she didn't like.  The dresses she likes are more nightclub appropriate.

"This is for church.  You're not auditioning for "All That Jazz,"  I told her when she begged for a tight little green dress that shimmered with sequins and glitter.

What can I say.  She's a dancer.  Dancing has taught her that sparkly things are pretty.

If she should ever find herself with a gig singing the blues in a nightclub in New Orleans, something tells me she'll have no trouble finding the perfect dress.

P.S. - Why am I not surprised there's an official American Girl First Communion doll?

That's my girl

Mark was raised Catholic.  I was raised Lutheran.  We are still working out the details, but so far, that makes our family Lutheric.  Or Catheran.  Whatever.

Our kids have gotten a taste of both.  Some Sundays we go to a Catholic church Mark chose; some Sundays we go to a Lutheran church I chose.  The boys don't care which one we go to, they like all the crying rooms, lobbys and parking lots the same.  That's where they end up spending most of their time.

Aliza has attended Sunday school at the Lutheran church.  She went to vacation bible school at a Lutheran, a Baptist, and a nondenominational church.  I think she liked the Baptist one best because they had a carnival theme.  That's my girl.*

So right now, Aliza is attending religious education classes at the Catholic church.  She is learning about the Apostle's Creed, or as it's known to the Catholics, the "our Father."  She's learning about communion.  And soon she'll have her first confession.  Yesterday she asked us what that was all about.

"Well, you'll go talk to the priest and tell him all your sins, and he'll absolve you of them,"  Mark told her.

I mentally prepared for questions about what "absolve" means.  Or questions about what exactly she should tell him.

"Wow......I have a LOOOOT of sins,"  Aliza replied.

That's Mark's girl.

*This is a little inside joke between Mark and me.  Whenever one of the kids does something that makes us proud, we claim ownership.  ("That's my girl.").  Whenever they do something undesirable, we pass ownership ("That's your girl."). 

Neglecting Aliza

Aliza danced all over the living room Monday night for an hour, while watching Dancing With the Stars. Then it was bedtime, and she was suddenly afflicted with not one, but two sore feet. If you thought it wasn't possible to limp on both feet at once, you haven't met my daughter, the drama queen. Apparently, several hours earlier while playing outside with the neighbor kids, she'd "cracked something" in her foot. And the other foot, well, it bothers her from time to time, always right around bedtime. It's always something. She has some sort of Bedtime Pain and Ailment Not Otherwise Specified Syndrome.

She hobbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth and by then the pain was so unbearable, she was forced to crawl on her hands and knees to bed. She laid awake for over an hour, calling me every few minutes with updates on her anguish. I brought her an ice pack but somehow that just made it worse. She felt we should go straight to the doctor. I said well, if it was still bothering her in the morning, we'd talk about that.

It was still bothering her. She managed to talk me into letting her stay home for awhile and rest it. When the boys started therapy and I was free, we watched Alvin & the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and then we colored in coloring books together.

I think she just wanted to spend quality time with me.

By 10:30 she was feeling much better and she agreed to go to school after lunch, arriving just in time for the all important lessons in gym class and recess.

I think over this long holiday weekend, Aliza and I might have to go do something fun together.

An Aliza Conversation

The other day Aliza was telling me a story about her friend.  She said she cut her hand at piano lessons and was bleeding.  From this point on I was only half listening, because I started to come up with jokes in my head.  (What did she do, fall off the piano bench and hit a C-sharp?  Ha!  Ba-dum-bum!)  Then I thought I heard her say something about aliens, so I interrupted her and said
"What?  There was an alien in her cut?"
'No, mom," Aliza sighed, and rolled her eyes at me.  "Alien eggs."

The moral of this story is, always listen carefully when children talk, because there's a good chance whatever they are about to say is funnier and more creative than anything you might come up with.

Learning about our Teeth

Aliza told me last night they learned about dental hygiene in school. She said that germs get in between your teeth and make a cafeteria in there, and that's how cavities are made. So she flossed last night, to get rid of the cafeterias.

Aliza-ism

Frequently when Aliza asks me how I know something I'll tell her I know everything.  So here's a conversation we had this morning before leaving for school.

Me:  ......because I know everything.
Aliza:  You don't know everything.  You don't know how to say "ice cream" in Spanish.
Me:  I do too.  It's "helado".
Aliza:  No it's not.  They changed it last year.

After I got over laughing I said

Who changed it, the International Language Control People?