AUTISM - Are you verbal?

For years, we tossed around the word Autism.

It didn't fit, it fit, it labeled him, it didn't, we cared, we didn't.

We used to look at the faces that stared while he screamed.

We don't even notice now.

AUTISM.

It was a word that held such power.

Now...it's just a word...

And Ronan James is just fabulous.

How do you talk about autism?

The Ronan of the Day

Ronan James nursed forever. In fact, so long that Mama was able to give speech lessons using this incredible motivator!

"I want boobies, what?"

"I want boobies, pweese!"

I did a big blog on it under our old wordpress site. I'll have to find it and add the link in later.

Anyway, he has never lost the love for the boob.

When The Loudon was born, Ronan looked on longingly as he nursed, but since Ro was done, he settled for a "reach in and grab a handful" approach.

Ever since, we have had an almost daily discussion on "privates" and what is appropriate touching or not.

He is very sneaky about it now, and it's turned into a seemingly harmless hand or finger graze across the chest area!! lol

Mama doesn't want to make too big a deal of it, because I don't want him to get some sort of "boob aversion". I can just imagine that this would turn him into that pervy groping kid from Jr. High School that you avoided with all of your might, because he just couldn't control himself around the melons that have been suddenly popping up everywhere!!

So, when he grabbed a handful the other day, Mama did the "privates talk" walk through.

Ro really pondered it for a bit, then he said wistfully...

"Mom. When I grow up, I'm going to touch my wife's boobs EVERY day."

Watch out chesty ladies! Here he comes!

And he's a boob man.

The Shawl...The Damn Shawl Again

Every time I think I am going through a ridiculously rough period in life, I have to break out the big guns.


Tonight, my friends, I will be reading this for the umpteenth time...

Read it and weep only when you are having a REALLY bad night. You'll be reminded of what crappy life circumstances truly are.

And then, maybe you will slap yo'self in the face, like Mama do, for all your "poor me" whining.

THE LOUDON OF THE DAY

I've just gotten through with a lecture for The Loudon on why punching your brother in the head isn't allowed in our house...

The Loudon (evilly calm): "Mom. I want to take you to Target and exchange you for another, nicer Mom."

Mama: "Oh, really? And what do you think another Mom would do if you punched your brother across the head?"

The Loudon: "She would say, 'It was ALL his fault!'"

Oy. Some days, I really wish Mama could go Gramma Gerrie on his butt!

But there's no hitting allowed in Mama house.

Sigh.

Ro and Lowie - On Death and Dying

Ro and Lowie's Nana passed away recently. They are not really strangers to death, per se.

At their grandparent's house, a large portrait of their late Uncle Shawn hangs. He passed at the young age of 16, from a car accident. Their Dad was only 14 when his brother died. Both of our boys have been fascinated by this.

"Where is Uncle Shawn? Why can't I see him? Where exactly in the stars is he? Can I go to heaven too? How did he get hurt in the car? Can we say goodnight to him in heaven?"

It has become a ritual, this saying goodnight to their Uncle that they've never met, in the stars. Now, after a sad goodbye, it includes their Nana.

Goodnight Uncle Shawn.

Goodnight Nana.

We love you.