Crawly Skin
If you can muddle through the Gore-speak, you'll be terrified. If you're not already.
11.10.2003
Plainly
Finally added Layne to the links list. She is mega-public, no need to ask for permission, methinks. Hers is the giant sticky bun of blogs, a well-written mix of sensitivity and sensationalism with a sweet gooey center. Impossible to stop reading even though I wince each time she lays out the tastiest parts of herself for the circling sharks.
Finally added Layne to the links list. She is mega-public, no need to ask for permission, methinks. Hers is the giant sticky bun of blogs, a well-written mix of sensitivity and sensationalism with a sweet gooey center. Impossible to stop reading even though I wince each time she lays out the tastiest parts of herself for the circling sharks.
Garden. Better Leelo. Sienna.
I plan to go on an amaranth planting rampage today if the chance presents itself. According to lore, the deer don't like it all that much (although they're also supposed to avoid Paraguayan Nightshade, Lavatera, and Bougainvillea, yet treat ours like a salad buffet).
Last week Seymour disappeared for a while, and when I finally located him he was behind the garage, gobbling up the newly ripened prickly pears using Wyoming's harvesting technique. Only got one sticker in his hand, which is pretty fair for an amateur.
---
Leelo has been with therapist L for half an hour as of this writing. Willingly, happily. Demanded that she sit in the chair and play with his new Mr. Potato Head (which he already knew how to use, owing to school I'm guessing. So much for my anticipated big Teaching Moment).
Here is what happens with just about anything in my life: If I publicly ridicule it, then it's going to come back around and smack me in the ass. As it has with Leelo's supplement regimen. He was freaking out, we didn't know why, what supplement, we introduced a bunch at once, aiiiigh I'm sorry we'll follow directions now.
Last week we scaled back to the basics: Nystatin (anti-yeast), Lactobaccilus (pro-biotic), Vitamin B6, Zinc, Folic Acid, Calcium. We're going to re-introduce one supplement a week. Last night it was K-Mag aspartate (Magnesium) as the DAN protocol (which Seymour's been re-reading) says B vitamins without Magnesium can have adverse behavioral effects. Shit. DAN also warns against taking Zinc with other supplements as it can interfere with absorption. Huh? Dr. Prattle never mentioned this. You're supposed to wait a few hours, as you do with Calcium vs. Fluoride. Seymour has the day off and is using it to do more research and write up questions for Dr. Prattle.
-------
I called my Great-Auntie Diamond a couple of weeks ago. She's Sienna's grandmother and Sienna mostly lives with her and Lana, Diamond's niece. I was trying to talk to Lana, since she's the one who is monitoring things in Sienna's best interest and also the one who is getting married in July and then bailing on Sienna and Diamond both. Again, it is not my goal to interfere, but rather to get as much information as I can to determine whether or not an intervention needs to take place, whether or not Sienna needs to be pre-emptively removed from her mom's care since that's where she'll be going in July if nothing else happens.
Well, I didn't get to talk to Lana. She was out, so I chatted with Auntie Diamond who, if it's within my power, is not going to know about any of my machinations re: Sienna if it turns out that things are under control. I was also ready to do the phone version of nodding and smiling with a dottering old lady, since my mom and her sister Auntie F had told me that Diamond was losing it big time. Plus Diamond hadn't heard from me for a while. Already feeling guilty, sneaky, and dirty.
And then more so. Diamond may be completely in denial about her loser druggie daughter and what that means for Sienna, but she is otherwise still completely lucid and of this earth. And, turns out I was so absorbed with everything that was going on with Leelo that I never remembered to call or write with our condolences when Diamond's husband of 62 years, Great-Uncle Benz, died this past Spring. Go Squid! Sputtered apologies, promised to come visit soon, asked her to have Lana call me.
Then madly dashed her off a letter of apology and sympathy, including a copy of the Hey People, Leelo's Autistic letter that we emailed to family and friends this past June by way of explanation for my major fuck-up. Put it in the mail.
It's been two weeks. I still feel like a complete ass. Lana hasn't called--I've left messages with her dad, too, but he's the one who gave me the polite Canadian version of Fuck Off in the first place so a reply isn't likely. I can't really call Auntie Diamond back as she'll get suspicious of me wanting to talk to Lana. Auntie F, who is usually the go-between, is in Australia for two months.
I can't even properly write down my worries here, but here are two big ones. Apparently Sienna is spending increasing amounts of time, especially nights, at her Mom's place. With her shady teenage brother and his complete lack of morals--he is an unsocialized wolf boy. Also Auntie Diamond commented that Sienna took Uncle Benz's death in stride--it didn't seem to affect her that much. This man was for all practical purposes her father. How fucked up is her head already? She's only seven.
This sinus infection has made my head all cottony. I can't fire the old synapses properly. Does this rambling about Sienna make sense? I feel like I'm dancing outside the city walls, yelling and screaming and no one inside will acknowledge me, even though they know I'm there. The guards will continue to bar the gate. I'm going to have to figure out how to scale the walls.
Last week Seymour disappeared for a while, and when I finally located him he was behind the garage, gobbling up the newly ripened prickly pears using Wyoming's harvesting technique. Only got one sticker in his hand, which is pretty fair for an amateur.
---
Leelo has been with therapist L for half an hour as of this writing. Willingly, happily. Demanded that she sit in the chair and play with his new Mr. Potato Head (which he already knew how to use, owing to school I'm guessing. So much for my anticipated big Teaching Moment).
Here is what happens with just about anything in my life: If I publicly ridicule it, then it's going to come back around and smack me in the ass. As it has with Leelo's supplement regimen. He was freaking out, we didn't know why, what supplement, we introduced a bunch at once, aiiiigh I'm sorry we'll follow directions now.
Last week we scaled back to the basics: Nystatin (anti-yeast), Lactobaccilus (pro-biotic), Vitamin B6, Zinc, Folic Acid, Calcium. We're going to re-introduce one supplement a week. Last night it was K-Mag aspartate (Magnesium) as the DAN protocol (which Seymour's been re-reading) says B vitamins without Magnesium can have adverse behavioral effects. Shit. DAN also warns against taking Zinc with other supplements as it can interfere with absorption. Huh? Dr. Prattle never mentioned this. You're supposed to wait a few hours, as you do with Calcium vs. Fluoride. Seymour has the day off and is using it to do more research and write up questions for Dr. Prattle.
-------
I called my Great-Auntie Diamond a couple of weeks ago. She's Sienna's grandmother and Sienna mostly lives with her and Lana, Diamond's niece. I was trying to talk to Lana, since she's the one who is monitoring things in Sienna's best interest and also the one who is getting married in July and then bailing on Sienna and Diamond both. Again, it is not my goal to interfere, but rather to get as much information as I can to determine whether or not an intervention needs to take place, whether or not Sienna needs to be pre-emptively removed from her mom's care since that's where she'll be going in July if nothing else happens.
Well, I didn't get to talk to Lana. She was out, so I chatted with Auntie Diamond who, if it's within my power, is not going to know about any of my machinations re: Sienna if it turns out that things are under control. I was also ready to do the phone version of nodding and smiling with a dottering old lady, since my mom and her sister Auntie F had told me that Diamond was losing it big time. Plus Diamond hadn't heard from me for a while. Already feeling guilty, sneaky, and dirty.
And then more so. Diamond may be completely in denial about her loser druggie daughter and what that means for Sienna, but she is otherwise still completely lucid and of this earth. And, turns out I was so absorbed with everything that was going on with Leelo that I never remembered to call or write with our condolences when Diamond's husband of 62 years, Great-Uncle Benz, died this past Spring. Go Squid! Sputtered apologies, promised to come visit soon, asked her to have Lana call me.
Then madly dashed her off a letter of apology and sympathy, including a copy of the Hey People, Leelo's Autistic letter that we emailed to family and friends this past June by way of explanation for my major fuck-up. Put it in the mail.
It's been two weeks. I still feel like a complete ass. Lana hasn't called--I've left messages with her dad, too, but he's the one who gave me the polite Canadian version of Fuck Off in the first place so a reply isn't likely. I can't really call Auntie Diamond back as she'll get suspicious of me wanting to talk to Lana. Auntie F, who is usually the go-between, is in Australia for two months.
I can't even properly write down my worries here, but here are two big ones. Apparently Sienna is spending increasing amounts of time, especially nights, at her Mom's place. With her shady teenage brother and his complete lack of morals--he is an unsocialized wolf boy. Also Auntie Diamond commented that Sienna took Uncle Benz's death in stride--it didn't seem to affect her that much. This man was for all practical purposes her father. How fucked up is her head already? She's only seven.
This sinus infection has made my head all cottony. I can't fire the old synapses properly. Does this rambling about Sienna make sense? I feel like I'm dancing outside the city walls, yelling and screaming and no one inside will acknowledge me, even though they know I'm there. The guards will continue to bar the gate. I'm going to have to figure out how to scale the walls.
11.09.2003
Happy Birthday Leelo!
Or, as Seymour just said, "Can you believe it's been three years since you squeezed that little guy out?"
Anyhow, a bit of backtracking:
Friday's GGRC evaluation was hell. Leelo hit the wall right after the last post. I couldn't reschedule because the evaluation had to take place before his 3rd birthday.
It was me and Leelo and a tiny conference room with two doctors and two social workers. Leelo cried and whined and mostly refused to participate, but amazingly was still able to demonstrate what a different boy he has become in the 9 months since they saw him last. Multiple delays compared to typical three-year-olds, but steadily improving. They seemed pleased that we are doing ABA, OT, DAN diets, etc., pumped me for details, and clucked a lot during what I am guessing were "correct" answers.
As the session wore on, the lead doctor stated that Leelo would continue to be eligible for services through them. Fine, expected. He then strangely offered me the choice of two diagnoses for Leelo: mentally retarded or autistic. I, uh, chose the latter--what the fuck was that about? No one has ever mentioned anything about mental retardation to me before except the semi-useless child psychologist from a year ago who said he definitely wasn't. These GGRC people deal with ten families like us every day, so I guess springing shit like that doesn't really faze them.
They made a final attempt on one of their tests, and got him to correctly and spontaneously verbally identify about 50 percent of their picture flash cards (between yells). At last, they then declared the evaluation over (probably because my stress-sweat had stenchified the entire room). There is an additional next-steps discussion that I need to have with the social workers, but Leelo doesn't have to be there so we rescheduled for next week.
The next 24 hours were an odd bubble in time as an amazing number of errands were run, further appointments rejected by Leelo, activity books were finished and submitted in time to avoid Kinko's, Iz was retrieved from altruistic Jo, the house became not only clean but party and guest-lodgers ready, relatives arrived and were chatted with put to bed woken up and breakfasted, every pot in the kitchen was used at least once--and somehow it all got done and then the festivities were upon us.
Leelo's birthday party was a whole mess of fun. For us, anyhow. And, despite sleeping through the first half and being grumpy for the next sixth, he really seemed to enjoy the last third. Tolerated us singing to him, had fun with the jumper and parachute. Didn't eat a friggin' bite of any of the food set out for him (and I whipped up all that theoretical food somehow, excepting the pakoras which we may have for dinner tomorrow, and the meatloaf which ended up being more of a meat pile).
All the kids seemed to have a good time. Some partygoing parents may not forgive me for allowing their children unlimited access to bodypainting crayons, but the kids loved it and the party was for them. I did warn everyone to dress in grubber wear. Iz and her cousin Danielle must have gone through at least 5 design iterations, finally settling on full black face Coal Miner since it went well with the party hard-hats.
Lovely moment: sweet Moomin (age 3) asked Leelo to please not be sad during his grumpy phase. I asked Moomin if Leelo's crying made him worried (M. is a sensitive boy), and he said no, he wasn't worried, he just wanted Leelo to be happy. Earnestly, seriously. That boy is going to have the swoony girls fawning all over him in high school.
Ep's poor boy had to go home early, as he was set upon by a fast-moving fever. True vegetarian Ep was probably grateful to get away from the smell of the meat pile.
I swear it wasn't Iz moment: My extra-shy niece Leigh, who had come up from El Lay especially for Leelo's birthday, decided that she was going to use this party for her first attempt at "making friends." So, she went up to one of the other girls and said "Hello, my name is Leigh." The other girl said "So?" Thankfully Leigh didn't even notice the slight; she was too pleased with herself for having completed her mission.
Perhaps I should clarify my stance on presents and goody bags, having gotten a few wounded reactions from my rant: Anything you put thought and effort into is fine by me, be it a goody bag, letter, or art installation. Obligatory, knee-jerk, pressurized presents and party paraphernalia are what I don't cotton to. And the children seemed to get a kick out of the Chinese fingercuffs, so there.
And that's about it. Woke up today with the equivalent of the post-finals flu. Probably psychosomatic excepting the nasty sinus blockage, but Seymour kindly watched the kids most of the day anyhow while I slept and ready trashy murder mysteries and got my bearings back. Nighty night.
Or, as Seymour just said, "Can you believe it's been three years since you squeezed that little guy out?"
Anyhow, a bit of backtracking:
Friday's GGRC evaluation was hell. Leelo hit the wall right after the last post. I couldn't reschedule because the evaluation had to take place before his 3rd birthday.
It was me and Leelo and a tiny conference room with two doctors and two social workers. Leelo cried and whined and mostly refused to participate, but amazingly was still able to demonstrate what a different boy he has become in the 9 months since they saw him last. Multiple delays compared to typical three-year-olds, but steadily improving. They seemed pleased that we are doing ABA, OT, DAN diets, etc., pumped me for details, and clucked a lot during what I am guessing were "correct" answers.
As the session wore on, the lead doctor stated that Leelo would continue to be eligible for services through them. Fine, expected. He then strangely offered me the choice of two diagnoses for Leelo: mentally retarded or autistic. I, uh, chose the latter--what the fuck was that about? No one has ever mentioned anything about mental retardation to me before except the semi-useless child psychologist from a year ago who said he definitely wasn't. These GGRC people deal with ten families like us every day, so I guess springing shit like that doesn't really faze them.
They made a final attempt on one of their tests, and got him to correctly and spontaneously verbally identify about 50 percent of their picture flash cards (between yells). At last, they then declared the evaluation over (probably because my stress-sweat had stenchified the entire room). There is an additional next-steps discussion that I need to have with the social workers, but Leelo doesn't have to be there so we rescheduled for next week.
The next 24 hours were an odd bubble in time as an amazing number of errands were run, further appointments rejected by Leelo, activity books were finished and submitted in time to avoid Kinko's, Iz was retrieved from altruistic Jo, the house became not only clean but party and guest-lodgers ready, relatives arrived and were chatted with put to bed woken up and breakfasted, every pot in the kitchen was used at least once--and somehow it all got done and then the festivities were upon us.
Leelo's birthday party was a whole mess of fun. For us, anyhow. And, despite sleeping through the first half and being grumpy for the next sixth, he really seemed to enjoy the last third. Tolerated us singing to him, had fun with the jumper and parachute. Didn't eat a friggin' bite of any of the food set out for him (and I whipped up all that theoretical food somehow, excepting the pakoras which we may have for dinner tomorrow, and the meatloaf which ended up being more of a meat pile).
All the kids seemed to have a good time. Some partygoing parents may not forgive me for allowing their children unlimited access to bodypainting crayons, but the kids loved it and the party was for them. I did warn everyone to dress in grubber wear. Iz and her cousin Danielle must have gone through at least 5 design iterations, finally settling on full black face Coal Miner since it went well with the party hard-hats.
Lovely moment: sweet Moomin (age 3) asked Leelo to please not be sad during his grumpy phase. I asked Moomin if Leelo's crying made him worried (M. is a sensitive boy), and he said no, he wasn't worried, he just wanted Leelo to be happy. Earnestly, seriously. That boy is going to have the swoony girls fawning all over him in high school.
Ep's poor boy had to go home early, as he was set upon by a fast-moving fever. True vegetarian Ep was probably grateful to get away from the smell of the meat pile.
I swear it wasn't Iz moment: My extra-shy niece Leigh, who had come up from El Lay especially for Leelo's birthday, decided that she was going to use this party for her first attempt at "making friends." So, she went up to one of the other girls and said "Hello, my name is Leigh." The other girl said "So?" Thankfully Leigh didn't even notice the slight; she was too pleased with herself for having completed her mission.
Perhaps I should clarify my stance on presents and goody bags, having gotten a few wounded reactions from my rant: Anything you put thought and effort into is fine by me, be it a goody bag, letter, or art installation. Obligatory, knee-jerk, pressurized presents and party paraphernalia are what I don't cotton to. And the children seemed to get a kick out of the Chinese fingercuffs, so there.
And that's about it. Woke up today with the equivalent of the post-finals flu. Probably psychosomatic excepting the nasty sinus blockage, but Seymour kindly watched the kids most of the day anyhow while I slept and ready trashy murder mysteries and got my bearings back. Nighty night.
11.07.2003
Betterish
Leelo seems better. He had great occupational therapy and speech therapy sessions this morning (offsite) but still had a fit when we tried to do ABA at home. He knew I was still around and so howled until poor Therapist F said maybe she could come back on Monday when he's 100%. Fine.
Got the homeopathic solutions from Dr. P's office way the fuck down in Los Altos, and, upon getting home and opening the bag realized that his staff had forgotten to include the instructions. Go team!
But, a small miracle occurred in that there is an insane party store almost directly across the street from Dr. P's office! And all its Bob the Builder paraphernalia was on sale! So, that got to be an on-the-way errand rather than a special, time consuming trip. Oh happy day.
Leelo also slept well last night, so I got some work done on the activity books. They'll only be four pages long, but that's just going to have to do.
And--another respite--Seymour's brother, wife, and two girls who will be staying with us for the weekend got stuck in L.A. and won't get here until the wee hours! More hours to be frantic and get stuff done without entertaining guests!
Leelo and I are off to his exit exam for the Golden Gate Regional Center. Those are the folks who funded his preschool and initially not-quite-diagnosed him (i.e., these are the people who said "If he was three, we'd call him autistic). We're seeing the same crew this go-round, so perhaps they'll give us a formal diagnosis! Perhaps they'll give us additional funding for special ed classes! Perhaps they'll declare him cured and give him a lollipop!
Party should be fun. We'll be thinking about those of you who can't make it.
I am reading Matilda again, but this edition has two batches of page 177-204 and no pages 112-176! If I can't remember where I bought it, what is my recourse? Should I just send it back to the publisher and demand a replacement?
Leelo seems better. He had great occupational therapy and speech therapy sessions this morning (offsite) but still had a fit when we tried to do ABA at home. He knew I was still around and so howled until poor Therapist F said maybe she could come back on Monday when he's 100%. Fine.
Got the homeopathic solutions from Dr. P's office way the fuck down in Los Altos, and, upon getting home and opening the bag realized that his staff had forgotten to include the instructions. Go team!
But, a small miracle occurred in that there is an insane party store almost directly across the street from Dr. P's office! And all its Bob the Builder paraphernalia was on sale! So, that got to be an on-the-way errand rather than a special, time consuming trip. Oh happy day.
Leelo also slept well last night, so I got some work done on the activity books. They'll only be four pages long, but that's just going to have to do.
And--another respite--Seymour's brother, wife, and two girls who will be staying with us for the weekend got stuck in L.A. and won't get here until the wee hours! More hours to be frantic and get stuff done without entertaining guests!
Leelo and I are off to his exit exam for the Golden Gate Regional Center. Those are the folks who funded his preschool and initially not-quite-diagnosed him (i.e., these are the people who said "If he was three, we'd call him autistic). We're seeing the same crew this go-round, so perhaps they'll give us a formal diagnosis! Perhaps they'll give us additional funding for special ed classes! Perhaps they'll declare him cured and give him a lollipop!
Party should be fun. We'll be thinking about those of you who can't make it.
I am reading Matilda again, but this edition has two batches of page 177-204 and no pages 112-176! If I can't remember where I bought it, what is my recourse? Should I just send it back to the publisher and demand a replacement?
11.06.2003
Straightjacketed
Ah, poor Leelo, he is still a miserable little inconsolable sicko. Won't use words. Won't sleep (except cat-napping in the car). Won't let me put him down most of the time. Won't be pleased by anything that normally distracts and happifies him. Will only cry and whine and make me pick him up then put him down then pick him up then put him down and look at me searchingly, silently pleading for an end to his pain. Daddy is unacceptable. Mommy only, all day, every day, for the past week.
Another trip to his pediatrician this A.M., who said no strep, no bronchitis, but definitely a sinus infection and that means antibiotics. Fark. Put a call into Dr. P who said no antibiotics yet--try this three-pronged 8x/daily barrage of homeopathic remedies and let's see if that works first. If by Saturday night there's no improvement, then antibiotics. Leelo will still be in homeopathic wait-and-see test drive mode during his birthday party. Yeah!
I'm not very efficient under optimal conditions, so all this is greatly affecting my party-giving abilities. I like a good bash, and usually spend the three days beforehand doing all the relevant errands. When I tried going to the grocery store yesterday, Leelo screamed non-stop unless I held him on my hip--at which point he turned the volume down by about 50% but kept at it. Doesn't bode well for the trips to the insane party store and other grocery store. Lordy lordy lord.
Seeing as Leelo is being distracted by Bob the Builder for a blessed few moments, I will tell you about his theoretical birthday party; the one I imagined would happen rather than the tatty chips-n-dip affair it will probably end up being:
One goal is a completely Leelo-friendly menu. No wheat/gluten, dairy, soy, peanuts, eggs, sugar, citrus. Partly this is practical, but there is a self-serving aspect since I am sick of people going on about poor us having to eat crappy bland complicated food substitutes. Here's our yummy, bulletproof menu:
West African Nut Stew w/pounded rice balls
Pesto and tomato pasta
Pumpkin Pakoras
Meat Loaf (Seymour's carnivorous brother might faint at a completely vegan affair)
Roasted potato and vegetable salad
Potato Chips
Guacamole & Tortilla Chips
Vegetable and Fruit Crudites
Pineapple Velvet Cake (the boy gets one sugar exception on his birthday)
Beer!
Wine!
Margaritas!
Gastronomically, it's a global hodge-podge, united only by the thread that Leelo could eat every last bite if he chose to (though he won't touch 95% of it). Just TRY offering him tequila.
The other goal is: no goody bags! I hate hate hate goody bags even more than I resent people bringing presents to a party after I ask them not to (can't we just eat, be merry and celebrate without laying out all that cash for toys and goods that won't fit in my overstuffed house anyhow?).
Goody bags are becoming de rigeur for kiddie birthday parties, to which I say: fuck that, and fuck the pressure that makes the average goody bag cost $15. I prefer to hand out silly activity books and crayons, things that the kids can actually use for more than 5 seconds, and which might even trip a circuit in their brains. But since I don't know if I'll have time to get the crayons and books together, I have a backup stash of Chinese fingercuffs to hand to anyone who asks where the goody bags are.
Ah, poor Leelo, he is still a miserable little inconsolable sicko. Won't use words. Won't sleep (except cat-napping in the car). Won't let me put him down most of the time. Won't be pleased by anything that normally distracts and happifies him. Will only cry and whine and make me pick him up then put him down then pick him up then put him down and look at me searchingly, silently pleading for an end to his pain. Daddy is unacceptable. Mommy only, all day, every day, for the past week.
Another trip to his pediatrician this A.M., who said no strep, no bronchitis, but definitely a sinus infection and that means antibiotics. Fark. Put a call into Dr. P who said no antibiotics yet--try this three-pronged 8x/daily barrage of homeopathic remedies and let's see if that works first. If by Saturday night there's no improvement, then antibiotics. Leelo will still be in homeopathic wait-and-see test drive mode during his birthday party. Yeah!
I'm not very efficient under optimal conditions, so all this is greatly affecting my party-giving abilities. I like a good bash, and usually spend the three days beforehand doing all the relevant errands. When I tried going to the grocery store yesterday, Leelo screamed non-stop unless I held him on my hip--at which point he turned the volume down by about 50% but kept at it. Doesn't bode well for the trips to the insane party store and other grocery store. Lordy lordy lord.
Seeing as Leelo is being distracted by Bob the Builder for a blessed few moments, I will tell you about his theoretical birthday party; the one I imagined would happen rather than the tatty chips-n-dip affair it will probably end up being:
One goal is a completely Leelo-friendly menu. No wheat/gluten, dairy, soy, peanuts, eggs, sugar, citrus. Partly this is practical, but there is a self-serving aspect since I am sick of people going on about poor us having to eat crappy bland complicated food substitutes. Here's our yummy, bulletproof menu:
West African Nut Stew w/pounded rice balls
Pesto and tomato pasta
Pumpkin Pakoras
Meat Loaf (Seymour's carnivorous brother might faint at a completely vegan affair)
Roasted potato and vegetable salad
Potato Chips
Guacamole & Tortilla Chips
Vegetable and Fruit Crudites
Pineapple Velvet Cake (the boy gets one sugar exception on his birthday)
Beer!
Wine!
Margaritas!
Gastronomically, it's a global hodge-podge, united only by the thread that Leelo could eat every last bite if he chose to (though he won't touch 95% of it). Just TRY offering him tequila.
The other goal is: no goody bags! I hate hate hate goody bags even more than I resent people bringing presents to a party after I ask them not to (can't we just eat, be merry and celebrate without laying out all that cash for toys and goods that won't fit in my overstuffed house anyhow?).
Goody bags are becoming de rigeur for kiddie birthday parties, to which I say: fuck that, and fuck the pressure that makes the average goody bag cost $15. I prefer to hand out silly activity books and crayons, things that the kids can actually use for more than 5 seconds, and which might even trip a circuit in their brains. But since I don't know if I'll have time to get the crayons and books together, I have a backup stash of Chinese fingercuffs to hand to anyone who asks where the goody bags are.
11.05.2003
11.04.2003
Long, Loud, Not Work Safe
Yes, politically and globally and as represented by our governments, we are all stupid fuckers. But sometimes it's funny as hell! I mean, if hell was funny. Anyhow. This made me snort and chorfle at the end of four very long days with a 24/7 sick little boy. Who is still nowhere near better.
Yes, politically and globally and as represented by our governments, we are all stupid fuckers. But sometimes it's funny as hell! I mean, if hell was funny. Anyhow. This made me snort and chorfle at the end of four very long days with a 24/7 sick little boy. Who is still nowhere near better.
11.03.2003
Drugs!
Rah! Dr. P has approved Albuterol for our boy. With the caveat that it might make him a little hyper. He must mean more hyper. Whatever, as long as Leelo sleeps better.
Scabby and Pat thought that Leelo's chicken soup smoothie was fabulous. But then, they spend an inordinate amount of time licking their own butts.
Being cats and all.
Rah! Dr. P has approved Albuterol for our boy. With the caveat that it might make him a little hyper. He must mean more hyper. Whatever, as long as Leelo sleeps better.
Scabby and Pat thought that Leelo's chicken soup smoothie was fabulous. But then, they spend an inordinate amount of time licking their own butts.
Being cats and all.
In Which I Attempt To Poison My Son
While polishing off some autism-relating reading last night, I was reminded of one of the biggest hurdles for a vegan diet: vitamin B12 deficiency. Leo has been a vegan for five months now (his choice: he can eat meat but he never ever has), and he's been cleared by his accupressurist for B12, so what's the hurdle, you say? Well, I'm supposed to be giving him vitamin B12 shots. Yeah.
Dr. P told us that it is easy if we keep the needle at a 30 degree angle and do the injection after he's asleep. Again, yeah. We may need Dr. P to give us a demonstration, as even our veterinarian showed us how to give our diabetic cat her daily insulin shots.
It usually takes a while to get in to see Dr. P, especially with our therapy schedule. Until then I am renewing my Eat Meat campaign. First skirmish: this afternoon I decided to give that chicken soup another shot. Added water and salt, heated it to a pleasantly warm temp, blended it smooth, and put it in a sippy cup. Then I walked over, handed it to him and said "Mmm, yummy soup!" He gamely took it and sucked down a big swig--then turned on me with a shocked and wounded glare, as though I'd given him Drano. He also gagged, threw the cup across the room, and retreated into the corner--backwards, so he could keep an eye on me, the torturer, the entire time. Christ.
While polishing off some autism-relating reading last night, I was reminded of one of the biggest hurdles for a vegan diet: vitamin B12 deficiency. Leo has been a vegan for five months now (his choice: he can eat meat but he never ever has), and he's been cleared by his accupressurist for B12, so what's the hurdle, you say? Well, I'm supposed to be giving him vitamin B12 shots. Yeah.
Dr. P told us that it is easy if we keep the needle at a 30 degree angle and do the injection after he's asleep. Again, yeah. We may need Dr. P to give us a demonstration, as even our veterinarian showed us how to give our diabetic cat her daily insulin shots.
It usually takes a while to get in to see Dr. P, especially with our therapy schedule. Until then I am renewing my Eat Meat campaign. First skirmish: this afternoon I decided to give that chicken soup another shot. Added water and salt, heated it to a pleasantly warm temp, blended it smooth, and put it in a sippy cup. Then I walked over, handed it to him and said "Mmm, yummy soup!" He gamely took it and sucked down a big swig--then turned on me with a shocked and wounded glare, as though I'd given him Drano. He also gagged, threw the cup across the room, and retreated into the corner--backwards, so he could keep an eye on me, the torturer, the entire time. Christ.
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