A few things worth mentioning

Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a while. You see I have this parasite adorable blessing sucking life from growing gracefully within me and I have a hard time sitting down to type without zonking out and waking up with drool in my keyboard.
But regardless of my current state, I thought I'd jump out of my blogging hiatus with a few things worth mentioning:

Numero Uno: He lost a tooth.
O.M.G.G. (ohmygoodnessgrief) I know he's seven and all, but he's my baby. I rock him to sleep and cradle him when he is upset. He is not old enough to be losing teeth. But actually he is. And that makes me sad.

The loose tooth discovery went down like this-

 

So for supper that night, mom-of-the-year made corn-on-the-cob. Oops.

Reason #252 that non-verbal kids with autism rock. They can't complain. Even when their mom makes food that they literally can't eat. And even when their mom says, "Wait, let me get the camera" instead of helping the poor child out with his corn.


And so the removal of said tooth went down like this-

 

So my hands were a little full trying to help pin him down in the dentist chair and I didn't get to snap any pics, but this is actually a rather accurate depiction. When he realized that his spit was red he was so excited he could hardly contain himself. It was like those little art kits that have splatter paint, only his paint only came in red and was a serious biohazard for all of the employees/children/poor innocent bystanders in the pediatric dentist's office. I was covered in red splatter paint, as was the rest of southern Johnson County, within a few short minutes.

 

Numero dos: As previously mentioned, there is a beautiful little lifeform growing inside me that isn't coming out.

Ok so, today is my due date. It's not like I've been pregnant forever, (just kidding I actually have). But it's time that this baby makes an appearance.

I've drank pickle juice and castor oil, eaten Mexican food and coated myself in essential oils. I've rubbed the little spots on my ankles that the girls at work "swear made them go right into labor". I take the stairs at work. I walk, walk, walk. I pray.

And yes, I did the things that you are thinking of that I can't type or else I will giggle and blush.

And it's not working.

I know I won't be pregnant forever- (this baby has to come out sometime, right?) but I really don't want to be induced. I just want to have a good old fashioned labor and delivery, where a adorable/handsome girl/boy pops out with big beautiful eyes and a perfectly healthy brain.

Is that so much to ask?

So I thought it might be worth mentioning that tomorrow, when I come waddling into 3rd and 4th grade biddy basketball, with my three adorable little offspring in tow (one, no doubt, bouncing around the gym in mismatched clothes and a side pony and one, no doubt, banging on the water fountain to watch the water splash), you should not be offended when you ask me when I'm due and I look at you like this:



You're welcome for the warning.

And Numero tres: Someone out there thinks I'm funny or something.
I thought it might be worth mentioning that I happen to be making my stardom debut next month as a stand-up comedian at the Mission Theatre. It's true. I'm scared spitless.
I don't think I'm actually funny, it's just that my kid craps all over the place and the story surrounding it is usually good for a laugh or two. And, BONUS- by the time February 28th rolls around, I will have TWO kids that crap all over the place. More bang for your buck!
So if you're up for a night of comedy for a good cause, come check it out. And bring your tomatoes.
You can get tickets here! http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/549916

Reasons our speech path is better than yours

There are about a thousand reasons our speech path is better than yours. 

But this is one of them: 

The girl has been begging, pleading, bribing the boy to say her name spontaneously for over four years. (She started coming to our house to work with Waylon before he turned three, and has remained his primary speech pathologist through preschool, kindergarten, and now first grade. How lucky are we?)

She taught him to make noises- ("ba ba ba") before she worked for hours/days/weeks/months to get him to repeat "Daddy", and then "Mommy". She taught him to sign and eventually say "more", then "my turn", then "help me". Who am I kidding- she has worked tirelessly to teach the boy virtually every word he knows. 

And all of the obligatory Christmas ornaments and plates of brownies and you're-the-best-speech-path-ever thank you's don't hold a candle to the gift she got today.

Kudos, Miss Jennifer.