Go see Ratatouille!!

I think Ratatouille is one of my new favorite movies. Animated, at least. And the animation is exquisite in Ratatouille. The gleaming pots, the steam, the vegetables - everything in the kitchen is perfectly rendered. A portrayal so vivid you can smell the food, taste the wine. Amazing. And there's a real script!! A story. It's not predictable, which is amazing. I don't want to get into too much detail, because I want you to go see this movie. I don't want to spoil any part of it for you. I love the fact that, aside from Peter O'Toole, they didn't use big stars for the voices. The voices fit the characters and you aren't distracted by overly familiar intonations. Though one character sounds exactly like David Schwimmer, but it's not. I would have bet the house that it was and husband thought so too. There's no farting, burping, scatological humor, no sex - it's rated G. A wonderful family-friendly movie that will appeal to plenty of child-free adults. It truly has something for everyone. (Can you tell I really liked this movie?)

Our six-year-old, David, adored this movie also. He sat through it without complaint. Sabrina was another story. This is the second movie to which we have taken our darling 2-year-old. The first was Shrek the Third and she handled it very well. Ratatouille, not so much. She was interested, but very tired. Tired baby = cranky baby = mommy driven insane. She finally fell asleep for the last third of the movie. Yeah nap time!!

Sabrina has *Two* Daddies

Sabrina loves when her Daddy comes home from work. She runs, throws her arms around his shins, and yells "DADDY!!" It's very cute. When Mommy comes in, she runs, throws her arms around my knees (I'm shorter), and yells . . . "DADDY!" Yep, apparently I'm also "Daddy." If I correct her and say "No, Mommy" she gives me that look that all 2-year-olds master that says "You're so SILLY!" Sometimes she says "no, no, no" and just grins wildly. She cannot be convinced to call me Mommy. Daddy it is then. I can't wait to explain this when she starts preschool.

Morning Breath

My two-year-old has the most foul breath this morning!! Ugh, yuck. Someone should do something about that. Oh, wait. That would be me, wouldn't it?

Chillin' at the Park

Alone! And a movie review.

I am enjoying some peace and quiet this Saturday night. The kids went up north with their grandparents on Wednesday and Matthew left this morning to join them. I had dinner with a friend and am just hanging out at home now. I stayed to be with my Daddy for Father's Day. He's 71 and I don't want to miss any opportunities to spend time with him. I have quite possibly the best dad EVER. He has always put my sister and I first and still wants to take care us, even as we approach middle age ourselves. He's just the best.

With the kids gone, Matthew and I did what child-free people do. No, not that. We went to a movie! I wanted to see Knocked Up, but we finally settled on Ocean's 13. Good movie. The best scenes are with Casey Affleck and Sean Caan at a Mexican plastics factory that makes casino dice. Who would have thought that Casey Affleck could steal a movie from George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Ricky Gervais, and so many other bigger names? A lot of it is that the script gave him the best scenes/lines, but he did a great job with them. Also: Brad Pitt's cell phone music? Funny. The fact that the other guys never mention his choice of ringtone? Priceless. The "Susan B. Anthony"? Hilarious. (If you haven't seen it, keep in mind that Susie B. was a well-known suffragette (think suffer). Knowing a little history would have helped my husband get that joke. He had no clue until I explained it after the movie. Apparently the women's suffrage movement in the U.S. received short shrift at his high school in England.)

Happy Father's Day to all the great blogger dads out there! You rock!

Wednesday Mind Hump

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1. Have you ever cut or burned yourself while cooking?
Yes, I do one or the other almost daily. I once sliced off a big chunk of my thumb whilst slicing potatoes with a mandoline. I finished making dinner before going to the med center to have it repaired, but nearly fainted several times. (I couldn't go to the med center till hubby came home to drive me anyway - I couldn't drive myself in that condition.)

2. Have you ever put in a wrong ingredient in a dish (sugar instead of salt, for example)?
Um, guilty as charged! I've tried to repair it and save the dish. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. I've done wrong spice, sugar/salt/flour/cornstarch/baking soda mix-ups, you name it - I've f'd it up!

3. Have you ever dropped, or otherwise ruined, a dish just before serving it? Bonus points if you had a large number of people waiting to eat it.

Yes, I've dropped stuff - chicken, turkey. I've also put it under the broiler for "just a moment" to brown up before serving and turned dinner into a large chunk o' carbon. I dropped a Thankgiving turkey once, but my mom helped me clean it up and make it both presentable and edible. Thanks Mom!

4. In case you aren't a cook - Have you ever had a restaurant make a klutzy move that affected your meal? Tell us about it!
I have been served a plate of salt, with a little food thrown in for flavor. This seems to be a common restaurant problem.

It's the *sticky* time of year

The sticky weather has arrived. Oh, I don't mean the humidity. No, in my house stickiness comes from Fla Vor Ice (yes, that's actually how they spell it). My kids go through them like crazy. I cut them in half (the Fla Vor Ice, not the kids) after they're frozen so the kids aren't trying to eat a whole one each time. This year we bought the Fla Vor Ice Plus - 2 cases of 200 each (thank you Costco). They have "25% real juice!" so I can tell myself I'm not just giving them sugar water. Of course, I'm really just giving them sugar water.
A good mommy would make her own popsicles out of real juice, but we all know I'm not that mom. I do make my own sorbet from fresh fruit, but don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my street cred.

Today I Don't Really Like My Kids

I was sick all weekend and am still a bit weak and out of sorts. It's one of those days when my kids really get on my nerves. They are not to the point of understanding that sometimes Mommy needs to chill and they need to let her. Sabrina has been clingy and crabby. David is still figuring out that school really is out for the summer, so his schedule is totally fudged up.

When life throws a monkey wrench into the works for David, he gets crabby, mean to his sister, and has potty-training regression issues. We let him run around the house naked from the waist down on days like this, because that helps him to remember. Today, however, it only made things worse. Yep, you guessed it: A little poop here, a little poop there, a little bit of poop everywhere! This does not help my mood. (In the middle of typing this, I had to stop and help David clean up another mess.)

They both needed a trip to the park today, but Mommy couldn't risk it. Let's just say that a nearby bathroom is a necessity right now. And a clean one is much preferred. Our city has made a lot of budget cuts and one big thing they've done is closed the bathrooms in the parks. They've got portable units, but c'mon: they're not meant for people with gastrointestinal situations like mine. Having diarrhea (dire rear, David calls it) is bad enough - can you imagine barfing into one of those things? OMG - having to look down into it? Possible splash-back? No thank you! We'll go the park tomorrow.

The Girl

Well, I told David's birth story, I suppose Sabrina should get a turn. Hers is not nearly so eventful, thank goodness.

In late 2003, early 2004, we decided that we really shouldn't have another child, as David and his autism therapies, etc., require a lot of attention. We sold or gave away all my maternity clothes, baby toys and equipment, and baby clothes.

In May 2004, my husband (once again) had no Mother's Day gift for me, so he gave me a roll in the hay instead. Lovely. It had been at least 8 months since the last time (I've got a whole other blog where I bitch about that ongoing situation - and no, I'm not linking it. So stop looking, Mom.) but still, I might have preferred some new clothes or a spa day (that's what I got this year - still haven't used it) or something.

Three weeks later, we took David to the park. As I went to use the park bathroom, I was thinking that my period should be starting anytime now. I had a little cramping and very sore breasts. But my period was late and it's never late. I thought, hmmm, my breasts hurt like this when I was pregnant; but I couldn't be pregnant, we haven't . . . oh sh*t, that's right. We did." When we got home, I surreptitiously took a pregnancy test. Positive. Damn.

I didn't tell Matthew right then. He was trying to get David to sleep and I needed to absorb this development before dealing with him anyway. Matthew can have a temper and I was truly scared to tell him. He likes life to be neat, orderly, and predictable. Another unplanned pregnancy was none of the above.

Once again, he surprised me. He was stunned, just like me, but took it quite well. And just like before, he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. I wanted to keep it quiet this time, not share our news with the world at just a few weeks. I mean, stuff happens. You don't want to announce your happy news, just to have to explain a few weeks later that it didn't work out. But nooo, he had to tell my parents (who were unhappy, to say the least. My mother felt that she had nearly lost me last pregnancy and she thought this one would kill me for sure), his parents, and random people on the street. Like impregnating me made him some sort of manly-man. (No, it made him a jerky man because he had refused to use a condom. He still has never, ever, worn a condom. Not even for "practice" as a teenager or college student. He was a virgin when he met me, so he hadn't needed one. TMI? Yeah, I guess so.)

This pregnancy was a total 180 from David's. I threw up once or twice, had a week or so of nausea, then smooth sailing until December 2004. My due date was February 14, 2005. I went in for routine check-up and non-stress test the week before Christmas. Matthew was along (second time the whole pregnancy - he went to every visit with David; I guess the novelty had worn off). To my surprise, the non-stress test showed I was having regular, fairly strong, contractions. The OB sent me to the hospital. I spent all day there as they gave me drugs to try to stop the contractions and keep me from going into full-blown labor. They stopped the contractions and put me on bed rest.

Bed rest - hah! I had a four-year-old, I hadn't finished my Christmas shopping, I had baking to do, meals to prepare, etc. I couldn't just sit around! Dr. B, my beloved OB, said I had better if I wanted to make it to full term. I also had to take the most horrible drug EVER. It keeps the contractions at bay, but also makes your heart race and keeps you from sleeping. Great. Pregnant, on speed, and forced to lay still. More joy. I was allowed to get up to use the bathroom and take one shower every two days. Hell on freakin' earth. Matthew had to do the Christmas shopping (I hope everyone wanted a no-thought-whatsoever gift card), cookies did not get baked, candies did not get made. I did get up and make dinner each night though. I just wanted one good meal a day. Shhh - don't tell Dr. B.

I couldn't take bed rest until February 14, so Dr. B. ordered a test for lung development and as soon as it showed Sabrina's lungs were ready for action, I had a planned c-section. Oh, the wonders of the planned c-section! So much better than the unplanned c-section. I walked to the OR on my own, joked with the doctors and nurses, helped catch my husband when he nearly fainted watching the docs give me an epidural - all much better than a 5-in-the-morning-your-baby's-going-to-die c-section.

When they plucked her out, all 5 lbs, 8 oz. of her, she also had the cord wrapped around her neck. Twice. Glad I didn't try a v-bac. She gave a lusty cry and then glared at me over the curtain (they put up a curtain so you can't watch them fooling around in your guts. Apparently some people find that off-putting. Whatever.) A little girl with a big mouth and an attitude. I was in love. It was 11:15 a.m. on January 25, 2005.

No NICU, no attempted breast-feeding nightmare (didn't work the first time, didn't even try this time), just a healthy little girl. I was up and walking that night, didn't need IV pain meds (just Tylenol!), didn't need a boatload of antibiotics, and I felt great. I was able to go home (okay, my parents' house - they don't have stairs) after just 2.5 days. Yippee!

Sabrina is now 2 and a real pain in my butt. She is beautiful and smart. Too smart for her own good. She fights with her brother, then gives him kisses and hugs. She has been developmentally spot-on but remains quite small. She has yet to appear on the growth chart for her age. At her two-year checkup, she was 21 pounds. She is up to 22 pounds now and wears 12-18 months clothes (at 28 months). People always marvel at how she's "SO TINY!" It was fun at first, but now it's just annoying. She's not a midget, people, she's just small. I'm 5'2" - where do you think she gets it?

Horror Movies

Do other parents find that movies that they would have enjoyed before kids are now just too damn painful to watch?

My daughter just asked to watch "ishy" again. "Ishy" is what she calls Finding Nemo (ishy = fishy, for those not fluent in toddlerspeak). Does she not know that Finding Nemo is a heart-stopping horror movie for parents? At least for this parent. Imagine, your beloved child, with a disability, disappears in the vast ocean, kidnapped by a giant creature who has taken the child away in his faster-than-you-could-ever-swim vessel. As the mother of an autistic child who could wander off at any time, this is not "cute" or "darling" or "heart-warming." This is sheer terror. But Sabrina has demanded "ishy" and so she shall receive. I just can't stay in the room.

Another movie that I might have tolerated better had I not been a mom is A.I. I love Kubrick, who was planning to make the movie, and I like Spielberg, who did make the movie. But it broke my heart into a million little pieces. I had given birth to David only months before I saw A.I., and it didn't help that the android child played by Haley Joel Osment is named David. I couldn't even enjoy the thought of hiring android male prostitute Jude Law for a little hanky-panky. And I loves me some Jude Law. When the mother dumps David in the woods because she mistakenly believes he is a danger to her "real" child? Killed me. My husband actually bought the DVD of A.I. I am so tempted for it to just disappear.

How this all got started - The Boy

January 1998: I accepted a position as staff attorney for our local Friend of the Court office. There was this total geek computer guy there who was very impressed that I a) owned my own flatbed scanner, b) had wired a network at my last office, and c) had added a mouse to an XT computer (back in the day). One thing led to another and within a few months said geek was living in my house. Flash forward to May 1999, I became Mrs. Geek and neither of us worked at the FOC anymore.

We had been told before we got married that we would not likely be able to have kids, at least not without medical intervention. We were okay with that and planned our blissfully child-free existence. First anniversary, May 2000, we take a trip to the U.P. and do a whole lot of what people who have only been married a year and don't have any kids do. Within a few weeks, I knew something was different. I took a pregnancy test, just to rule that out. After all, I was on the pill and the doctors said I couldn't get pregnant anyway. When it was positive, I took another. A couple more trips to the drugstore and I had tried every "pee stick" they sell. Holy guacamole - I was gonna be a mom!

Husband took it quite well, shouting the news from the rooftops as soon as the doctor's office confirmed that those E.P.T. people know what they're talking about (and the First Response folks, and the store brand, . . .). And then I started puking. Many times a day. For 7 months. That's right, SEVEN MONTHS. I barfed from June 2000 to December 2000. I carried a Super Big Gulp cup wherever I went in case there was no other place to, um, you know. I was hospitalized several times for dehydration. Oh, and did I mention that I'm diabetic? Oh yeah, not just gestational, but full-blown 24/7/365 diabetes. Throwing up everything you eat wreaks havoc on the blood sugar, as if pregnancy alone wasn't doing that anyway. Joy. Fortunately, I found a wonderful high-risk OB practice. Husband-and-wife OBs board-certified in maternal-fetal medicine. They took great care of me, harassing me into faxing my blood sugars (taken 7 times per day) 3x per week so they could adjust my insulin accordingly.

By 37 weeks, I was ready for it to be over. I was scheduled for an induction at 38 weeks, 1 day. The induction did not go well. I developed a raging infection (probably started when my water was broken) and the baby kept having problems maintaining his heartbeat. After I had been pushing for 2 hours (19 hours after starting labor), the baby's heart would stop completely during every push or contraction. Time for a c-section!

They wheeled me to an O.R., whacked me open and pulled the baby out. Turned out that the cord was wrapped around his neck. Twice. So every push or contraction pulled it tighter and cut off oxygen to his brain. He was blue, limp as wet spaghetti, and had no heartbeat or respiration. That's an initial Apgar of 0, for those keeping score at home. They bagged him and did chest compressions and he finally pinked up and gave a weak little cry. Off to Neonatal Intensive Care he went! With his Daddy in tow, leaving me alone to cry and vomit as the docs sewed and stapled me back together. It was 5 in the morning, January 12, 2001.

16 hours elapsed before I saw my baby again. I had that raging infection and was really weak, so they wouldn't let me go to the NICU to see him. And NICU babies can't leave to visit mommy. One nice nurse took Polaroids and gave them to me, but it wasn't the same. David had his Daddy, which was good for him, but not so good for me. There was a bad snowstorm, so my family didn't come to be with me and I was so sick the hospital restricted visitors to family and clergy. It never occurred to Matthew to walk around the corner and down the hall to visit his wife. Seriously, I saw him ONCE in that 16-hr period. I finally threatened to pull out all the IV tubes and crawl to the NICU, so the nurses relented. They helped me into a wheelchair and hooked my IVs and PCA up for travel. When we got to the NICU, one of the nurses reamed my husband out for leaving me alone and scared all day. Yay nurse!

Short story long, David recovered but had some developmental delays. By 13 months, I suspected he was autistic. (He had begun speaking, then just stopped. Classic.) He didn't walk until 19 months and was absolutely fascinated with wheels, fans, or anything else that spins. He was in special ed by 17 months and "officially" diagnosed at 22 months.

Cut to today, he's a happy, healthy autistic 6 year old. He reads and writes well above his educational level. He just finished Early Childhood Special Education (preschool) and will be in sort-of kindergarten in the fall. He will be assigned to an autism classroom for K-2nd grade kids, but will spend part of the day in a regular education kindergarten room. We're hoping that eventually he will be able to be mainstreamed for at least half a day.

Introductory Crap

I'm Melinda and I'm a bad mommy. There are Alpha Moms and Beta Moms. I think I'm a Zeta. My two kids are David and Sabrina. David is 6 and is autistic. He is smart and sweet, but has problems communicating. His receptive language skills are at about age level, but his expressive language skills are at about a 3-year-old level. David just "graduated" from Early Childhood Special Education and will be moving to an autism classroom in the fall. He will spend part of the day in a regular kindergarten as well. Sabrina is 2 and very, very busy. Seriously, the kid never stops moving. She's smart, funny, and a royal pain in my butt. Now would a good mommy say something like that?

I'm a recovering attorney and former associate producer of the consumer investigation beat at a local television news station. I've been doing the stay-at-home-mom thing since David was born (I worked at the station until a few hours before I went to the hospital to have him). I'm not sure what I want to do when I go back to work. I'm kind of burned out on practicing law, but TV doesn't pay well at all. We'll see, I guess.

There's also a husband/father in the picture, Matthew. We don't always get along, but we are devoted to raising our children together in a loving, if somewhat chaotic, home. I am a terrible housekeeper, a lousy organizer, and frequently bad mommy. But I love my children desperately and completely, even if I don't always like them.