This post is from from my other blog here







I'm sure you can imagine my joy when I received and opened this gift?



If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

This post is from from my other blog here



As with most tips and tricks around here, this has been scientifically, nay, exhaustingly tested for your benefit. I can assure you that it is 100% effective for one typical and one atypical child. Conversely, it is completely ineffective for another typical and atypical child. Thusly, an overall 50% success rate is worth a bash in my book.

Follow the basic principles in “tissue box.” Choose the fabric with care to cause minimum offense, remain gender neutral and avoid tickly, scratchy, itchy textures. Fleeces usually fit the bill, are cheap and easy to work with since they don’t fray.

White is usually a poor choice when filthy snotty children are involved but the sheep-like woolly texture was a definite favourite.

Select a decorative trim that could resemble hair and stitch to the inside top seam so that when it falls open, the fringe appears on the outside.

Tie the ‘neck’ with chord or some easily un-doable yarn.

Sew googley eyes in place with a pompom for the nose.

Knit four tubes in stocking stitch and insert pipe-cleaners inside. Take care to fold over the top sharp edges so that it doesn’t poke through the knitting and hurt small fingers. Stitch one pompom to one end of each of the four tubes. Stitch the other end to the tissue box cover to form legs and arms, which should now be ‘poseable.’

Take a small piece of recycled stiff plastic and cut into a moon shape for the mouth. Glue fractionally larger pieces of felt to each side of the plastic form, black on one side and a contrasting colour on the other. Leave to dry.

Once fully dry roughen up a little patch in the centre of each side. Attach hook Velcro to the tissue box cover in the ‘mouth’ position. Make sure that there is enough space so that the ‘mouth’ can fit upside down and right way up to form a ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ face. Try to avoid putting Velcro on the mouth itself as this may mean it is untouchable for some children.



Broadly speaking this is only effective for the sniffly kind of hurt feelings or ruffled feathers. It is certainly ineffective where genuine pain and the Emergency Room is required.





Usage guidance:-

Await an attack of the sniffles. This usually doesn’t take very long. Ensure that the tissue box is in the ‘sad’ position, mouth and limbs turned downward. Take box to child. Cuddle sniffly child with box close to hand and within sight line of the child.

Listen carefully to the complainant's woes. Offer solicitation, comfort and solace as needed. When sniffling is on the decline, suggest use of a tissue to mop up streaky cheeks and slimed nostrils. Encourage child to pull a tissue from the box. Encourage child to spread mucus over face with tissue. On completion remove offensive, germ filled tissue before it hits the floor.

Encourage child to verbally acknowledge that the storm has passed and that they have survived in tact. Positively reinforce recognition of wellness by encouraging the child to physically turn the mouth into a smile and the limbs into a horray! The kinesthetic or physical interaction, by moving the pieces, confirms success. This helps the child associate self care and self calming, motivates and promotes self awareness. This is why we bother to put a line through a completed ‘to do’ item. Even though strictly speaking it is unnecessary, the task is finished, but somehow, great satisfaction derives from this teeny tiny step.







Of course if your child has tactile defensive issues such that they find the texture of paper or tissues abhorrent, then forget it.

This post is from from my other blog here

How to make the best Mario and Luigi hats, a do it yourself step by step guide.

Mario, the character from Mario Bros Nintendo DS and his brother Luigi, have their two greatest "fans" here in jolly old San Jose, as the "Italian" genes are in the "blood." Here is the answer for fans worldwide.






This is basically a knitted oversized Tam O’Shanter. You do not need to be a good knitter as when the hat is felted [boiled alive to shrink] small mistakes are unnoticeable.

Measure the circumference of the child’s head just above the eyebrows and ears or wherever you want the hat to ‘sit.’ Find a saucepan or bowl* with the same circumference for later to act as a ‘form’ to support the drying hat.

Use pure wool as man made materials do not shrink. [ I have an unshrinkable prototype hat big enough for an average sized East Indian elephant if anyone's interested?] Take care to match the colour well, although the colour may not show true on the photographs.





Cast on 90 stitches on large size 10 USA circular needles. Knit 5 continuous rounds [take care at the point where you join the circle to avoid kinks and twists]
Row 6, purl [this forms a seam that will fold to make the headband]



Row 7 , knit
Knit 4 more rounds.





Take a second smaller circular needle. Pick up the original 90 cast on stitches from the lower [cast on] edge
Align both needles and knit one stitch from the front needle and one stitch from the back needle together, continue to the end of the round. This forms the headband.
Continue on the larger needle.
Increase row = Knit one, knit one and make one knitwise into the second stitch. Continue for the next round = 135 stitches. Continue to knit 26 rounds on these 135 stitches.

Begin shaping brim / crown.





Knit 9, knit two together, repeat to end.
Knit three rounds without decreasing
Knit 8, knit two together, repeat to end.
Knit three rounds.
Knit 7, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 6, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
[if it’s getting to tight for you to work on a circular needle transfer to four size 10 pins]
Knit 5, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 4, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 3, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 2, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Break yarn with a long tail
Find a crochet hook and slip through remaining stitches, pull tight.
With a darning needle thread the tail through to the inside.
Weave through the material loosely







Pick up 35 stitches from the folded / pleated edge. Use the circular needle but you will be knitting back and forth not round and round. Knit the next seven rows [garter stitch]
8th row decrease one at each end.
Knit 5 rows.
13th row decrease one stitch at each end
knit 1 row
*15th row cast off five stitches knit to end, turn.
16th row cast of five stitches knit to end , turn.*
* repeat twice
Cast off remaining stitches and sew in the tail of yarn.

Now the fun begins = felting.

Set your washing machine to the hottest setting with a little soap and the greatest agitation. Plunge the hat into the hot water and poke it a bit. Yank it out at one minute intervals to check shrinkage / felting. It’s hit and miss but you can do it! When it looks felted remove from the machine and plunge into cold water bowl in the sink. Rinse out any remaining soap. Squeeze out excess water.





Attack your hat with vigour to stretch and pull it into the correct shape and size. Stuff with a old towel to maintain shape and ram it on your bowl.* Place the bowl with the hat on a folded bath towel in a warm spot to dry over the next 24 hours.






Whilst it dries make the badge. This is where your magic marker comes in. As white wool does not shrink and felt reliably, you will need to buy a small square of regular felt from your local retailer. Cut out a circle of stiff plastic from your re-cycling supplies with a disc of white felt to match. Take a fine sharpie pen, red or green and carefully copy the logo onto the white felt disc. Bear in mind that if this step is not accurate you might as well throw the hat away and give up completely. Glue the felt to the plastic disc. When dry attach a small snib of Velcro to the back, the hook part so that it will snag on the hat. Place the disc in the centre and voila! Custom fit and made to measure.

You may also adapt the design for non-Mario fans.

Just in case you are wondering who in their right mind would go to such trouble, I can tell you with complete confidence that it was worth every stitch, as well as the three prior failures.

My one worry was that they would be itchy. My daughter, the one with half a yard of protective hair curtain, assured me that it is indeed itchy. I dithered over linings but, and oh what a but it is, my tactile defensive wunder kind has had that thing rammed on his head for 24 hours straight.



Now I shall patent my pattern to Patons. Overnight we shall become millionaires of fortune and all will be well, as a significant percentage of the world’s population sport Mario and Luigi hats, men and women marked for life with the irrepressible



insignia of ‘special,’ as they itch their way through life.





There again, I already feel like a millionaire with none of the bothersome business of reality.






Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Here are some additional useful links:-

How to sew one from "felt"

Variations on a "Theme."

Other inventive "families."

Another sewn version with "panels."

Buy one from "Etsy" with "Mario Mushrooms."

A more traditional "baseball cap" version.

Some stitchery "wizardry."

A "stunning" "paper" version.

"Yoshi" food for those who prefer to cook rather than sew or knit.

Cheers dears

This post is from from my other blog here



I watch his laborious progress from a distance, the kitchen, as he reassembles his nest at the bottom of the stairs at 5:25 a.m. on a Sunday. He reinserts his little body back into the neat fold, extends his arms and drags himself, the duvet and half a dozen furry friends towards the family room. His spindle arms tire every three or four pulls across the smooth hardwood floors, so he pauses. I do not offer assistance nor comment. I wait. The weather has turned chilly after dark but they both refuse nightwear. This is his version of self help, self initiated and without a murmour of protest.

Their bedroom is the furthest distance away. A narrow corridor of hardwood floors, a U bend and a staircase. I wait until the whole caboodle reaches the edge of the carpet, where the resistance stops his progress. He is forced to slip out of the nest and haul it onto the sofa. Our eyes meet. He leap toes across to me for a silent backwards hug as his chicken ribs shiver. It’s about all one can reasonably expect following such a marathon of effort. I’m glad to be on the radar at all. He dashes back to safety and burrows under the duvet. I sit down next to him for a moment of continued silence and heavy breathing after all his exertions.
“Do you know what?”
“Wot?”
“I think perhaps pyjamas might be an easier way to start the day?” He nestles in closer without a word.

We’ll see.

This post is from from my other blog here







Generally speaking, I use ‘electronics time’ to be productive. However, the new Wii game, guitar hero, proves to be quite a challenge. There’s the issue of finger isolation, co-ordination and any number of different skills that prove insurmountable but tantalizingly tempting for the junior members of the household. Personally, I’d rather watch paint dry, but it takes all sorts I suppose.

Although the persevere to master these new skills, the ratio of grief to joy is not favourable. I need ear plugs for the wailing let alone the actual music itself. I expect a plastic guitar to be hurled with every passing missed note. As a result my own productivity reaches at all time low as they cannot be left unsupervised unless I wish to risk yet another trip to the ER. I have no choice but to be pro-active in the learning department. There will be no 30 minute cooking session, more of an un-jamming lesson.

Negative talk in the self hatred category, swirls around the room. For myself, I merely loathe the new toy which has provoked so much angst. Two thirds off the original retail price, still means ‘no sale’ in my ledger. The general opinion is that bed-time and or sleep, is cancelled until further notice, or rather, until someone manages to conquer the hero. This is the worst possible outcome, regardless of perspective.

Fury caused by frustration, quickly provokes incoherence. We are now tuneless, toneless and teetering on the edge. I snatch it away rudely before mayhem ensues, “my turn I think!” I yell just loud enough to make myself heard. Teary eyes blink in bewilderment. Swathes of snot adorn biceps as they visibly brighten. My daughter unwraps her head from her arms. For the moment I lack both purpose and practice. My working theory is that there is nothing like watching your mother fail miserably, to make everything seem a whole lot better.

Much to my surprise, everyone is remarkably helpful. Without words they put my hands in the right position, push button, select different programmes and generally get me organized in my role as novice. Whilst they are agreed that I am useless, there is some dissent as to whether I am a ‘beginner’ or ‘easy?’ The consensus of opinion is that I am now ready for my debut. Fortunately I can count and my fingers work. They watch in awe and clap and make complimentary and appropriate statements of praise. On completion they fiddle around with baffling statistics to declare that I am 98% something or other.

“Right! So now we shall let the guitar rest over night whilst we all go to bed,” I announce, turning to place the instrument out of reach on the top of the armoire. When I turn back, I see my sons on the floor at my feet before me, whispering something incomprehensible. As they kneel, their bodies rise and fall, eyes closed, palms clasped together. My daughter giggles on the couch, a silent observer. “What are they doing? What are they saying?” I demand, with hands on hips, weary, so weary. She beams as she stands, ready to retire, “we worship you……..got it from a cartoon I think.”

A blatant, but nonetheless welcome lie.

This post is from from my other blog here

At ten minutes to five in the morning, the festive day commences amid much noise. The noise is more of less continuous during the numerous hours that follow. At some indistinct moment amongst all the hub bub, my son shouts at no-one in particular, “I can hear something.” This strikes me as a little of an understatement under the circumstances. As no-one pays him much heed, he repeats the sentence for everyone’s benefit. Beneficial or otherwise, he grabs me by the hand in a splendid display of ‘hand leading’ and off we clop to nowhere in particular. Once we are on the landing, mid-way up the staircase, he slams on the brakes unexpectedly. Our collision is bumpy but soft, “oopsie…..sorry Mom.”
“That’s o.k. dear………why are we here?”
“Dah noise.”
“Hmm yes it is a bit quieter over here isn’t it?”
“No! Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Dah noise?”
“Which noise?” He splays a fingertip on the wall and looks at it meaningfully. Horray for joint attention. Like many a housebound parent, I keep a close inventory of every stick and stone in the house. I am familiar with every squeak, crack and whine in any cornice. I am so incredibly skilled at this task I can even tell what has broken merely by the sound, even though I may never previously heard the sound of any particular precious item smashed before.

I await enlightenment.

He nods his head towards the artexed surface, the one with the odd hole, scratch and tide mark at a three foot level. “Put your thing on it!” he commands.
“Put my what on what dear?” He models for me, as he puts his shell like against the wall, since the word for ‘ear’ has escaped him. I stand next to my son with my ear stuck to the wall as his eye balls bore into mine, “can yah hear it now?” I hear nothing. I cannot hear anything because I have my ear on a wall. “Listen!” he barks as he places a finger to his lips. I listen. Suddenly I hear it too, all sorts of unfamiliar yet familiar noises that I cannot for the life of me identify.

“What is it mom?”
“I’m sure I haven’t got the foggiest?” I only hope that there is insufficient room for a mouse, or mice or a nest of mice with many, many little relatives. He looks at me with an expression of vague disappointment until he has a much better idea, a brilliant solution to his problem, “I know! I ask Dad!” he abandons me on landing in search of someone far more useful, who he finds at the bottom of the stairs as they collide, “oopsie, sorry Dad.”
“That’s o.k. No damage done. What’s going on here then, you’re missing all the fun?”
“He wants to know what that noise is, the one in the wall?” I summarize with a hint of sarcasm and a tad of obtuse.
“Oh that’s just the vibrations.”
“?”
“You know, the noises outside are amplified, like traffic, cars and the like. It’s the same as when you put a seashell to your ear.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Of course Mom…..like dad said.”
“But there isn’t any traffic. It’s Christmas day.”
“Maybe not down our street, but we’re only a few miles from the motorway.”
“?”
“He….he…..he means freeway mom.”
“Oh thank you dear.”

Go on….....…try it….....…..stick your ear to an outside wall and tell me what you hear?

This post is from from my other blog here

Autism with speech delay can be a source of great frustration and annoyance, primarily for the speaker.

So many words are difficult to pronounce that an approximation becomes the norm until musculature matures with practice and time. If it wasn’t already annoying enough to deal with such daily challenges, every so often someone arbitrarily changes the rules. For instance, there is one particular word, one of many, that causes no end of angst, namely ‘evening.’ We know what evening means. We have a vague notion about when it occurs but it is virtually impossible to pronounce. We have learned to accept that for the time being ‘ eve nin,’ is more than good enough.

But once a year during the month of December, some foolish people refer to a particular reference point, namely ‘Christmas Eve.’ ‘Christmas’ we get, but ‘eve,’ although easier to say, is a shackle, one that causes no end of frustration. It falls into a category of many other words, words that are more than two syllables and familiar. If you are used to saying ‘Massachusetts’ with ease and flair, it is very difficult to stop yourself from pronouncing the last syllable, as suddenly the last syllable is surplus to requirements. You should try it some time if you doubt me, Massachu hold your ‘setts,’ Mississip and hold the ‘pi,’ the Marquis of Queensbur and hold the ‘y.’ It’s so grossly unfair. For some reason our brains and tongues refuse to stop, as the last sound is irresistible. Hence we experience a great deal of pain with the word ‘eve’ which keeps running into ‘eve nin’ or pops out as ‘eva’ when the brakes are rammed on really hard.

For current purposes we shall gloss over the competing issue, the time bomb, that declares that a whole day cannot be an ‘eve.’

As Christmas Eve approaches, I think it would be aesthetically pleasing to lie. To explain that my darling son came to me on that precious night, as the candles flicker in the warmth of twilight, to articulate the word ‘eve’ into my shell like ear, a gift like none other and we all lived happily ever after…….or some such nonsense. The truth however, is far less neat and tidy. This time next year, or maybe the year after, I’m confident that he will continue to grow and these difficulties will lessen, but for the time being we are left with the current exchange rate, daily, that goes a bit like this:-

“Ooo I am love!”
“Yes I know you love Christmas dear.”
“When is Eva…..? Shucks darnit!”
“Lets look at the chart together and you can tick off another day.”

Quite soon Eva will be gone from his repetoire. I think I almost miss her already.

This post is from from my other blog here






Three and counting......




herding continues.......




Shepherdess gives up and joins in, all four of my lovelies!


Seasonal Greetings from me and mine to you and yours.



If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

This post is from from my other blog here









Peppermint Creams
You will need:-
1 lb of icing / powdered sugar
a few drops of oil of peppermint / essence
Green food colouring
The whites [only] of 2 medium sized eggs
Tiny cookie cutters
Icing pens and or draggees to decorate

Whip the white to the soft peak stage, add peppermint drops and a slick of food colouring. Gradually mix in the icing sugar to form a stiff dough.




Dust a board with more icing sugar and roll out the dough. Tap the cutter into the sugar so that it doesn’t stick when you cut through the dough. Put the cut pieces on greaseproof or parchment paper to ‘crust.’

Decorate and box up.




Precautionary notes:-


Ensure all participating children have full tummies prior to commencement otherwise you have two choices, make twice as much to permit half to be consumed and still have enough left over to produce a worthwhile gift. Crumbs are not generally considered gift worthy.

Languid children, the type that drape themselves Daliesque over the kitchen counters are not much help when it comes to cooking, but sometimes mere observation and joint attention is a bonus.

Those who fear raw eggs may prefer to use dried Albumen available from all good delicatessens. Also handy for making manky merginues at short notice for those so inclined.

These make ideal gifts for the diabetics in your life as it enables the recipient to demonstrate and model good sharing habits. Rather than eat the gift of candy instead they may offer them back to the giver. This has the added bonus of making the giver realize just how wonderful it is to receive, in a roundabout manner which acts as a positive reinforcer whilst permitting the blood sugar levels of the recipient to remain under control.

Do not concern yourself with E numbers of the ‘icing pens’ as anyone who consumed 4 ounces of sugar is already airborn.




I heard on the radio today that in Japan the gift wrap is as important as the gift within, so here’s a quick trick to make your present more special.







1. You will need reflective paper, tissue, toilet paper rolls, glue stick and decorative wire.



2.
Wrap your very important insignificant gift in tissue paper so that it doesn’t get lost. Insert into the toilet roll.



3. Cut a piece of reflective paper in a rectangle twice the size of the roll. Secure outer edge with a slick of glue. Roll and secure the other end.



4. Tie wire at both ends to form cracker.







5. Make as many as possible or as many as your bathroom supplies allow.







If your decorative wire moults stick the debris on the outside as extra decorations.

This reflective paper is more like plastic to the touch and therefore less abhorrent. The wire is far easier to manipulate than sticky tape which tends to end up everywhere except where you really want it. These are the best kind of crackers for us as they are bangless, a not insignificant bonus.

This post is from from my other blog here





Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

My daughter has returned from a visit to family in Australia. During that time she sent the children a booklet after her experience with family, friends, horses and dogs. It's a story that they can relate to and thoroughly enjoyed when it arrived through the mail. Some may consider it a shaggy dog story or a morality play, but from my tree hugging, 'electronic' hating daughter, it certainly made me giggle.

I'm not sure if the writing is legible but I think the pictures more or less tell the whole story. [I hope!]

This post is from from my other blog here

I cook in the kitchen. 30 minutes to prepare a hot meal for the table. This 30 minutes corresponds to the children’s 30 minutes electronics time, if and only if, they have completed their homework and chores.

On the days when this goal is unobtainable, corresponds to the days that I open a can of soup in the face of chaos and much misery all round. A certain degree of misery also reigns during the successful playing session but only for me. I find it hard to concentrate with surround sound musak from three different sources. All the tunes are heart stomping brain crashing pump action repetitive roils, enough to boil the blood.

This particular evening, my sons entertain themselves with their new game, ‘De Blob,’ a birthday present. This harmless addition has the added bonus of a wide choice of accompanying music, most of which is mild and inoffensive. As I stir béchamel my elder, jet lacked daughter appears in the kitchen, touseled and famished, “ooo that’s smells nice. What are we having today…….tonight, for dinner?”
“Lasagne.”
“Great! I’m starving……..it’s very quiet around here?”
“Electronics time.”
“Cool! It’s great that they did all their homework and chores.”
“Yes indeedy!”
“That musak…….it’s different……that’s nothing like as irritating……..that’s not bad at all.” She peeks around the wall to check…… “now that I like guys!” she beams at people who are otherwise engaged. “That’s not even half as irritating as the other stuff.”
“Not even half. Not even half. Not even half,” echoes her youngest brother. She slips back beside me, “what a relief, I can actually think for a change. So I was thinking…….”
“Hmm?”
“I printed off some copies of the Christmas Carols.”
“Great!”
“I thought we could all sing them together tonight before bed time.”
“Super.”
“Shall we practice now, together, warm up the rusty vocals?”
“Er……I’m not sure…….they hate it when I sing……they find it really annoying……and humming…..and whistling come to think of it.”
“They’ll never notice they’re glued to the screen with their own surround sound.”
“O.k. then.”
I whip up a storm in the saucepan whilst my daughter conducts. Together we chorus our way through the Holly and the Ivy. As I pull out strips of Lasagne my mind fills with the poignant significance of each reference that tells the tale of the "religious" season, as well as the nifty conversion from "paganism."

We harmonize the last note and beam at each other as couple of decades have passed since we last enjoyed this treat. My son pops into the kitchen, a cuckcoo striking the hour, “dat is real EAR I TATIN……..get it?”

This post is from from my other blog here


















Timing is crucial.

I wait until two people stand on the roof to chop down the Christmas tree, one person plays ‘electronics’ and one spins his wheels. I grab the spinner to explain our schedule and specifically, how we shall occupy the next hour. We shall spend the next hour making candy as a gift for other members of the family, "a gift," our first.

I say a silent prayer that no-one falls off the roof during the next hour, or that if they do fall off the roof, that they won’t fall past the kitchen window, as that kind of distraction would be very off-putting.

My son is unconvinced that the project is doable, or preferable, or possible to complete in under 60 minutes. I share his dubious approach on the inside. I project optimism on the outside. I have selected a recipe for each child, what I hope is a good fit. Whilst it would be preferable for them to each to make their own choice, the ‘choice’ step could fill the entire hour and still not reach a conclusion. So I have chosen for them, a step that I view as dictatorship, although hopefully benign.

“Whada we doin again?” he enquires with huge dark eyes of confusion.
“We’re going to make chocolate fudge. It’s going to be delicious.”
“Er…….whya we doing it again?”
“It will make presents that you can wrap up and give to everyone in the family.”
“But why?”
“To make them happy. To show that you love them by giving them something they will like.”
“Er…..will dey like em?”
“Absolutely guaranteed. You like chocolate fudge don’t you? Everyone like’s chocolate fudge and they’ll like it all the more because you made if for them. Now…….how about we start by reading the recipe together?” He pauses, again. At this rate it will be a miracle if we ever manage task completion within the next 56 minutes. He rests his head on the kitchen counter as I list what I hope are mouth watering ingredients, but he’s off with the fairies and pays no heed to my words.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear?” Please lets make a start. Please don’t let us get off track again? Where is the track anyway?
“You are be tell a lie.”
“I am? I did? What did I lie about?”
“You said…….everyone is be liking my present.”
“That’s right. Absolutely right. They’re going to just love it.”
“But…..”
But me no buts! I hear the tick tock time slipping away.
“But what dear?”
“You……..”
“What about me?”
“You……..hate chocolate.”

They always get me on the details.

This post is from from my other blog here




I have a small confession to make about autism. When it comes to birthdays and holidays my children do not exchange gifts.

My daughters often make cards and fashion presents at such times, unprompted and generally unappreciated, but even persuading the boys write their own names on a shop bought card, has proved a challenge. This fact dawns upon me one morning. I realize that we have spent our time concentrating on receiving a gift graciously, because this is a social issue with dire consequences. Whilst there can me many humiliating experiences in life, when a gift is firstly ignored, later rejected and later still, destroyed, we are aware of the hurt this causes to the giver. It effectively doubles the pain. The receiver fails to behave appropriately, the giver is mystified.

In some American homes, the present opening section of a party is almost a formal ritual. Even quite young children patiently open each gift, express pleasure and delight and then verbally thank the giver. It is quite a feat to witness.

Last year as children gathered for my own daughter’s birthday party, I was there to see her joy and grace in this ritual. She had learned this from a peers, a lesson she should have learned at home.

Even now, we are careful to ensure that opening presents is a private affair with the boys, direct family only, so that no-one can witness the fall out. I recall previous attempts to overcome this deficit by any manner of means, but all with equal measure of failure. I know that they are now older, we need to pick up the gauntlet again.

I appreciate that I have failed to address this matter. I find it hard to fathom why this should be? I suspect that in part, it is because it is quite an advanced social skill, although I would not have said that a decade ago. A decade ago I would have said it was simply ‘good manners,’ a pre-requisite for every body on the planet. These days, I understand that some bodies have more fundamental hurdles to overcome, like dressing, eating with or without cutlery, toileting and speaking.

I need to think of something ‘doable.’

In an ideal situation, they would spend their pocket money or allowance on presents, but money is a poor motivator for the boys. Homemade would always be my first choice for any gift, as it demonstrates the love and effort which make a gift a true gift, but my children’s hands are not gifted.

I pull out an old book, one that I’m very fond of, a gift from my Granny, the one that my daughter refers to as ‘the man in drag cookbook.’ I have never seen it that way: the child looks like I did once. The woman next to her is the epitome of everyone’s granny, kindly, friendly and familiar, although I wish she’d put that sieve over the bowl.





Now all I need to do is engineer or carve out an hour with each child, one on one, so that they can create candy to give to the other 6 members of our direct family, when the day finally comes.

I’ll keep you posted.

This post is from from my other blog here

Thirteen Things about top tips for sanity int he holiday season 1. Buy yourself a chocolate filled Advent Calendar regardless of your faith so you can reward yourself at the end of each productive day. 2. Write holiday cards and mail on 12th. Realize that the last mailing date for Europe is the 11th. 3. Buy wrapping paper on sale in bulk. Realize once home that it is Wedding paper. 4. Splash out on an extravagant festive tree. On return realize it is too tall to be housed. 5. Stick to new rule that carelessly scratched DVD’s will not be replaced. Will power melts in the face of “Polar Express.” 6. Yield to whining children and buy cheapo stockings for the cats. Realize, once home, that they are for dogs. 7. Label your pies carefully before freezing, as mashed potatoes, vegetables and apple pie is unlikely to tickle the taste-buds. 8. It is a mistake to wrap and give a calendar to your spouse as a gift. It will be needed both before and during the holiday season, especially if your birthday falls in January. 9. Estimate how many days you can remain sane without a shower, then order the turkey. Write the shop’s name on the inside of your left wrist. 10. Draw up a fully comprehensive list of everything you need to buy from the supermarket for the feast well in advance. Do not leave the list anywhere near the paper shredder. 11. Do not wrap all presents and label later to save time. This only works if you have a photographic memory or x-ray vision. 12. Note that decorative wax apples, whilst festive, are also a health hazard unless you can guarantee 24/7 supervision of the fruit bowl. 13. Dig out the old spike so that you can keep all receipts from purchases until after the great day. After the great day when you note you have a houseful of rejected gifts, you can stab yourself in the forehead as a reminder against extravagance. Even if you are an abject failure, you did try, so scoff all the 24 chocolates in your Advent Calendar.

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

This post is from from my other blog here










I prepare in advance for 7 guests, as American breakfasts are a tour de force. The choices; waffles, pancakes, 4 types of cereal with full fat or fat free milk, fruit, bacon, fresh bread, jam and several gallons of maple syrup. I forget the eggs but remember them just in time. I suspect I deliberately forgot the eggs because eggs are very complicated in America. I hate the egg question in a restaurant: “how would you like your eggs?”
“Er…”
The server will instantly recognize indecision and reel of a list of options all of which are completely incomprehensible. Once, in a moment of uncommon bravery I ordered ‘over easy.’

It was a mistake.

13 years later I am no further forwarder. I stick with what I know, poached.

Maybe I could whip up a flip chart, icons of poached, fried or scrambled? Encourage them to point to their choice? I wonder if they know sign language? I can’t cope with the jargon but if they’re able to translate, I’ll oblige.

“Do yah have any vitamins?”
‘Gummy bears?’
“Are they from Wholefoods?”
“Is it pulp free OJ?”
“I’m on a diet.”
How can you be on a diet when you’re ten and look like a wafer?
“I like it toasted only on one side?”
“D’ya have any turkey bacon?”
“D’ya have any cloth napkins?”
Diapers babe, diapers. Anyone have any tactile defensiveness issues?
“Are those organic?”
“Are those free range?”
The birds dined at the table and slept in down beds with their owners.
I glance as the girl who is coping, “what can I get you? Name it?”
“I’m great, whatever.”
Finer blending skills I have rarely witnessed. She’s in my son’s class, special ed, but she is also a friend of my daughter’s. There’s a connection, they just clicked.

The boys observe, silent and stupefied by a female warrior clan, but fully clad. I am unused to the company of girls, girls with specific needs that they are able to articulate with accuracy. No-one needs to have their food cut up for them. No-one needs to be persuaded to eat. No-one needs to be spoon fed. The food is not the focus. Chatter is the primary concern interspersed with demands to the server. All too often I focus on the deficits and fail to celebrate those thinly disguised assets.

As they discuss who is in which class of the two fifth form classes, with which teacher, I wade in with my size tens, before the unknown teacher and the unfamiliar class are exposed, “who would like a muffin?”
“Gross! Too fat!”
“Are they blueberry?”
“I’m full alrighty.”
“Do they have muffins for breakfast in England?”
“Don’t they have English muffins there? I hate English muffins.”
“Do you have any whipped butter?”
“No honey? Honey is English right?”
“My eggs are cold. Can I have some more?”
“Certainly. I step to the table, remove the rejects, and glance at ‘coping’ to ask, “what about you dear? How would you like your eggs?”
“Poached,” she grins as her legs pump and snap at the tether band under her chair.

Truly, quite an exceptionally, delightful child.








If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

This post is from from my other blog here







When it comes to gifts in these financially stricken times, we’re all struggling to hit the right note. America is a secular country, which means foreigners should proceed with caution not to cause offense.

One safe route is to choose a holiday ornament, bought or home-made.



Instructions:-

This is a simple Cinnamon stick as a trunk with ‘branches’ of faux greenery and the decorations of your choice, buttons, sequins, stick on gems and ribbons. We avoid the peel off stickers as that’s far too much of a challenge for the fine motor skills.

I particularly like this project for a number of practical reasons. First and foremost there is no paper to deal with for the tactile defensive amongst us. Although you can use a hot glue gun for a quick fix, ordinary tacky glue does just as well.

It’s a good idea to make up one in advance so that children have a visual cue for what they’re aiming at.

I am confident in this choice, as I have been schooled by three dis-interested, independent third parties, one American born and bred, one blow in and another naturalized American. Each of these people were in business, professionals. During the holidays it was their policy to give a holiday ornament to their visiting patients. I was the delighted recipient of holiday ornaments from Mrs. Cavity, Mr. Braces and Mr. Slice. Of course there is the remote possibility that this is a hybrid gift tradition for the dental profession? Afterall it wouldn't be the first time I've been hoodwinked.

This post is from from my other blog here


Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

A selection of random cakes as it's too tricky to get them all in the right order.




























Now all the fun stuff is over and we've graduated to boring old grown up cakes.




Here's the recipe for the Peppermint Ice frosting underneath:-

Peppermint Buttercream Frosting
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
4-5 cups powdered [Icing] sugar, sifted
1/4 cup milk
1/8 teaspoon all natural peppermint extract

Beat butter until creamy, scrape bowl.
Add 4 cups of sifted powdered, milk, and peppermint extract, beat until combined.

Taste and add more peppermint extract until it tastes strong or weak enough. And yes, you’re quite right, it’s vile, tastes just like toothpaste.

This post is from from my other blog here

“It’s just grossly unfair! Don ya know how lucky you are?”
“Me? I am be lucky?”
“Yeah. You sure are the luckiest kid I ever knew.”
“I am be lucky?”
“Yeah. Jus tell me this. What other kid on the planet get to eat chocolate every day? Huh? Well?”
“Me.”
“Right! You. Just you. Only you. Nobody else on the planet gets to eat chocolate every day. It’s just not fair.”
“Not fair?”
“No! In fact…..now I come to think of it you get chocolate more than once a day…..you get your chocolate in your Advent Calendar, sometimes you get Nutella sandwiches and you always get chocolate pudding if you eat the other crap.”
“Crap?”
“Food you don’t like.”

All too often I need an independent third party perspective on domestic matters. I believe we have reached the point where we need to scale down chocolate consumption, now that a more broadly based diet has been “generalized.”

Here's an update on that one:-

11. Sat – wholewheat pizza with pepperoni, mozzarella and spinach, bean burrito
12. Teriyaki chicken, chard and brown rice
13. Custard filled éclairs
14. Cut apple pieces
15. Shredded gem lettuce, grated raw carrot, chopped tomatoes, sunflower seeds, Chinese dressing and terryaki chicken
16. Vanilla pudding with chocolate chips
17. Thai chicken curry [mild] steamed greens brown rice
18. Macaroni with fresh chopped tomatoes, garlic, spring [green onions], sautéed celery, carrot and onion
19. First ever whole [small] slice of pizza [red pepper, onion, tomatoe, spinache and chese]
20. Macaroni and beef ravioli, egg nog
21. A prune!
22. Lemon pepper pappardell, onions, garlic, and bacon
23. Pumpkin and coconut bread
24. 3 prunes
25. Popcorn
26. Toasted open cheddar cheese sandwich [first ever toast]
27. Fresh apple slices [skin on]
28. Non chilli chilli with mashed potatoes and white French bread
29. One scoop of TJ’s sun dried tomato and pesto torta on one tortilla chip
30. Meatloaf and gravy, scalloped potatoes and mixed [frozen] vegetables
31. Chilli with kidney beans [mild] with mashed potatoes and mixed [frozen] vegetables - new phrase = chew it or you’ll choke!
32. Mushroom gnocchi [2] large pasta shells with spinach and mushroom
33. Hot dog in white hot dog bun [half]

One taste, teaspoon or half teaspoon of each of the following
34. Roast potato
35. Roast parsnip with rosemary
36. Garlic mushroom
37. Sautéed crook neck squash and courgettes
38. Pureed sweet potatoes
39. Pureed carrots
40. Pureed swede
41. Cauliflower in bechamel
42. White Corn on the cob
43. Brussel sprouts and chestnuts
44. Creamed spinach and toasted almonds
45. Green beans
46. Leeks in white sauce
47. Pearl onions in cheese sauce
48. Steamed brocolli
49. Sausage
50. Bacon
51. Turkey
52. Gravy
53. Cranberry and orange sauce
54. Chestnut stuffing
55. Parsley stuffing
56. Yorkshire pudding
57. Cornbread muffin [Owen’s recipe]
58. Cinnamon raisin English muffin toasted with butter [scored 7!}
59. Home-made meat loaf and gravy, pureed carrots, creamed spinach and leeks with pearl onions
60. Pecan pie and cream
61. Couscous and apricot turkey tangine
62. Whole pasta, pesto, garlic, prawns [shrimp]
63. Apricot sausages, mashed potato, half a brussel sprout, leek, sweet potato
64. Savoury turkey croquettes, spinach nuggets, sweet potato, mashed swede [rutabaga] marinara sauce
65. Wholewheat English muffin with nutella Toasted!
66. Turkey meatballs, marinara sauce [with spinach] and fettucine
67. Sticky Toffee Pudding
68. Roasted pepper and tomato soup, sausage roll, crab cake, cheese quiche, mushroom turnover.
69. Cinnamon raisin toast with butter [one third of a slice!]
70. Campbells chicken and stars soup [small cup] TJ’s individual mini cheese tomato and pepperoni pizza = all of it
71. home made shepherds pie with frozen peas, much lower level of protest [apart from the poisonous peas] Half slice of home baked bread and smear of poisonous butter
72. ‘spicy’ peanut cabbage, bacon, onion, spinach scramble

This post is from from my other blog here



Many autistic children have this deficit which is one of the many reasons that we visit an occupational therapist regularly. This deficit makes many every day tasks more difficult, such as dressing.

Both the boys can now dress themselves but it’s still not easy for them. It’s not just the fine motor skills and co-ordination, it’s also a question of balance.

Most of us are quite capable of putting on a pair of trousers, hold open the waist, drape the legs out in front, stand on one foot, insert the other foot, shimmy down to the opening, transfer weight and repeat with the other leg.

Is that about right?

Try it out.

That’s quite a good deal of sequencing let alone anything else. If that’s a difficult task, how might one overcome the problem?

This is how my boys do it, both of them.

See if you can follow along.

Lay out the trousers flat on the floor. Turn your back on the trousers and sit down on the carpet behind them at the waist end with a three foot gap on the floor. Roll onto your back and swing your legs over your head until your toes touch the carpet. Lift your arms over your head to grab each side of the waist of your trousers to open, insert feet into the hole and then into each leg, pull the trousers up to your waist, continue body roll onto your knees backwards and jump to your feet = done. Your work out is complete and you’re half dressed! Those compensatory skills kill me every time. It’s very funny to watch one child whip through this sequence, but watching two boys whiz through the same sequence simultaneously is somewhat hysterical, a daily dose of a comedy double act, but then I always have been a little "biased."

This post is from from my other blog here



I field all the usual protests that are commonplace at mealtimes in most houses.

“Wot’s for dinner Mom?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Yuk I hate it.”
“I hate pie.”
“I hate shepherds.”
“Dummy! You don’t even know what a shepherd is!”
“Don’t speak to your brother, anybody, like that please?”
“Anything else? No vegetables please?”
“Only peas, frozen peas I’m afraid.”
“Can’t we have corn?”
“I don like peas, peas is poison.”
“I don’t like frozen.”
“I’ll cook them….warm them up first dear.”
“Hang on a minute………dya mean Shepherd’s pie or Cottage pie?”
“Er….” I try and recall which trip wire I’m about to hang myself on.
“Din you say Shepherds pie is made of sheep?”
“Sort of, that’s right, lamb but Cottage pie is made out of beef.”
“Oh no I hate the lamb’s tails one!”
“Lambs?”
“Tails?”
“No, no, no, that’s back in the olden days, we don’t make them out of lambs’ tails any more, just minced…..meat.”
“If we’re gonna have disgusting dinner are we gonna have delicious pudding to make up for it?”
“Um…..I haven’t quite got that far yet.”
“But that’s what you always do.”
“What is it that I always do?”
“When you give us poisonous dinner we also get delicious pudding, carrot and stick!”
“Carrot……carrots is poison.”
“I don eat stick.”
“No guys it’s like a bribe, like an M&M for doin the right thing.”

Clearly I need to rise to newer and higher levels of dastardly sophistication.

This post is from from my other blog here

This post is from from my other blog here

Thirteen Things about Holiday gift disguise Take a look at the picture of the gift and guess what's inside? 1. 2. Homemade kiddie picture frame. Did you guess right? 3. What about this one? 4. It's a mini book. 5. 6. A golf ball. 7. 8. M & M's stuck on an old CD. 9. 10. 11. 12. CD 13. So what's the point? In these frugal times the gifts may be small or homemade but it can all be made a little more fun and festive without breaking the bank. Also thwarts those who shake and squeeze every package, as there's nothing like a little confusion to bring about a real surprise. Of course it's also one of the best way to open a gift without having to tackle the wrapping paper, an easy access and unflappable solution.

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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This post is from from my other blog here


















Yes we 'practice' hats for a few weeks and it's almost generalized.

If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

This post is from from my other blog here

To celebrate my new found ability to sign up for this blinking linking thing, I had another brilliant idea, you know, one of those ideas that strikes in the wee small hours of the night. As often as not, the next day dawns and the idea dies like a damp squid, not to say squib.

So here’s the plan. Consider sharing a recipe that your family, a family member or you, enjoy that doesn’t seem to be appreciated by many other bodies on the planet.

Guidelines:-

Ideally this should be something that you really prepare and eat. If you prepare and eat chocolate covered scorpions, all well and good, but attempt truthfulness.

Have you given it a name? If so, what is it and why?

Please offer enough detail to allow others to follow it easily. I favour piccies, but not everyone as is reliant on visual cues.

Try not to assume that everyone else is on the same page as you are. E.g a pnb sandwich may be obvious to you, but to me it refers to post nuptial bliss, which is difficult to squish between two slices of bread. I don’t want to even consider the possibility of jelly.

It doesn’t need to be outrageous nor inedible. It may be that you just have a twist on the communal garden variety of recipe that reflects your personal preferences. Here are a few tantalizing examples:-
• A grilled cheese sandwich with a smear of Marmite
• A freshly sliced tomato sandwich with ground black pepper and a generous dollop of Pesto
• Cheddar, Spring Onion, [Green Onion] and cucumber sandwich
• Tuna, Wholegrain mustard, onions and Tomatoes
• Any typically traditional sandwich where you routinely omit a main ingredient [I know who you are!]
• Butter and crisp [chips] sandwich.
• Cereal without the milk but with yoghourt instead [especially if each has to be a certain brand]
• A jam [jelly] sandwich with dill pickle slices
• Sandwiches with no filling

And people wonder why I make my own bread?

• Snacking on dried cat food doesn’t count, you didn’t make it.
• Raw cookie dough in a sandwich [please provide Salmonella warnings]
• A Big Mac:- hold the lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, pickle, cheese, run to the bathroom to rinse the patty under the hot tap, dry with care, return to table to eat and leave the bun on the side. Yes, that wouldn’t count either because you didn’t really ‘make’ it yourself!
N.B. if you put your dried cat food in a sandwich it counts.

A category would be helpful. E.g. side dish, in-between dish or main dish, but ‘accompaniment,’ ‘snack’ or ‘splurge’ would do just as nicely.

Please try to use useful terminology that is easily comprehensible. Terms such as ‘smidge,’ ‘dab’ and ‘pinch’ should be limited, as cookery should not be a contact sport.

Use any measurement system you like but aim for consistency throughout, as a combination of cups, stones and millimetres is likely to be messy.

A note about how many it is supposed to serve would also be useful. E.g. rabbit sized, human sized or supersized. Alternatively reveal your nationality and we can all adjust accordingly.

If you’re an American type with access to all the clever stuff nutritional stuff like good for diabetics, people with high cholesterol or high blood pressures and the like, then all to the good.

If you use uncommon ingredients, please provide a link to the product as we would like to muddle our Harissa with our Halva.

The only ‘label’ required to participate, nay, politely ‘requested,’ if you would be so kind, is a name for your recipe. If you could possibly avoid using ‘putrid’ or ‘poison’ in the title, that would be a delight, as we have someone to provide that insertion service for us already.

These are ruthless rules people.

Here’s mine.

Beetroot Salad for the Brave [A sidling or mainette dish]
One fist sized beet per person
One ounce of crumbly blue cheese, Stilton, Roquefort or Feta per person
One tin [can] of whole anchovies in oil
One teaspoonful of garlic puree
One splashette of Balsamic Vinegar
2 tablespoons of Extra Virgin Oil
One teaspoonful of roughly ground red and white peppers combined

• Bake the beets or microwave until tender.

• Leave to cool.

• Combine all the other ingredients.

• Add cooled, peeled and diced beets.

• Chill covered in the fridge for at least one hour.

• Serve on a generous bed of salad greens with hot, fresh bread, assuming you’ve not used it all up on sandwiches.

This should make your ears steam, your nose run and your eyes bleed. If not ……
then yur doin it wrong.

Coz Neophobia comes in many forms my friends.

Cheers dears

If you'd like to join in maybe this little icon can help us forge a new route for those with oral fixations.

This post is from from my other blog here

I collect the children from school. As usual my eldest son is disheveled. I sometimes wonder what he believes the purpose of a backpack is in his life? Something extra to carry along with his jacket, homework, lunch pack and other assorted paraphanalia, armfuls of it, together with the backpack. We pause, as we always do, to stuff the backpack with his belongings, zip it up and persuade the backpack to attach itself to his spine. It’s a time consuming little exercise, made all the longer by the excitement of the end of the day, when there is sometimes important information to share, if we could but shrug off all the distractions.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear.”
“My friend.”
“Yes dear.”
“He…….says I’m gonna go to hell.”
“Hell? Who said you were going to hell? Was he swearing…….was he…….saying bad words?”
“No hell is a place …….where there is no Jesus.”
“Is it by golly! Is that what he told you?”
“Yes……and it’s real small…..with no power……and Jesus always wins.”
“Wins…….sounds a bit like the superhero version of Christian belief.”
“Wot?”
“Nothing…….why did he say you were going to hell?”
“I don know. Am I gonna go to hell? Am I gonna die? When am I gonna die? Is hell bad? Is it gonna hurt? I don wanna die, I wanna stay here wiv you.”
“Well different people believe different things.” I watch his body contract, stiffen and diminish into a small hard lump.
I don’t know about him, but I’m ready to die right now. I’m sure there was no evil intent behind what appears to be an innocent exchange between him and his pal. How was his pal supposed to know that certain nuggets of information trigger all kinds of unexpected bombs. It’s an all pervasive virus without a salve. I refuse to allow another bout of OCD to explode on our lives, infest every cranny and bespoil a perfectly dandy holiday season. He watches bemused as I stuff everything into the backpack, with far too much vigour. Punch it into submission. This one will not escape, “well, you’re in luck my fine fellow!”
“I am?”
“Yes, because I know everything there is to know about hell.”
“You’re an……expert….a trainer expert?” His eyes are wide in genuine mid startle mode. I’m sure it is the most delightful facial expression in his ever growing repetoire.
“I am. And when we get home I’ll tell you all about it and you can ask me anything you want.”

Who needs a light saber to defend? I knew 13 years in a Catholic Convent would come in handy sometime.

This post is from from my other blog here









I stomp downstairs with the last box of tatty old Christmas decorations. The whole house is strewn with pine needles, bits of fir cones and general sparkly detritus of moulting baubles. The children entertain themselves with popping bubble wrap amid much chortling. Layers of tissue paper later I have cause to be considerably miffed:-
“Look at that! It’s ruined.”
“Hmm looks like it’s melted.”
“Of course it’s melted. Look at it!”
“Must be been jolly hot in the attic this summer.”
“Now there’s an understatement. What are we going to do with it now?”
“What do you want to do with it?”
“!”
“I wonder what temperature it has to be to melt and fuse candles?”
“Frankly I couldn’t give a monkeys.” I blow my nose and take a breath in-between hacking coughs.
“Maybe you should have wrapped them up a bit more carefully last year?”
“!”
“I don’t get it? Do you want to buy new ones or something?”
“No…..not really………it’s just everything is so………tired looking.” I have a head full of fog and a chest full of mucus, “all I know is that I have a zillion things to do and I have no time to fiddle about with wonky candles!”
My son glances across from his fine motor, pincher grip occupation, which he appears to have thoroughly mastered, judging by the continuous popping sounds, “I am love.”
“Yes I can hear that you are very good at popping.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I am love dah wonky candles.” Sadly I do not share his enthusiasm. I assume that I am just pooped after hauling so many boxes down from the attic. I surge off with a hint of huff for a coffee break, with a flu remedy chaser and a pause in the proceedings. Barely has the first drip of espresso dropped when I am summoned, again, “Mom!”
“What is it now?”
“I am being fixing it. It is perfick.”

This post is from from my other blog here

I plop onto the sofa with my knitting for entertainment and distraction from my latest current dose of flu. A tired little pathetic pile of self misery mopped up with a box of tissues. Oh for a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Ours has long been a volatile household where upsets jump out to bite us at every turn. Over the years we have learned about a great number of triggers, hot spots and areas that need special attention but the overall effect can sometimes feel as if we walk on eggshells. On the majority of occasions we are able to manage these periods but when our own levels of energy are low, we adopt the line of least resistance.



He leaps onto my lap cat style, but less agile and with far too many rigid bones. For the umpteenth time I have a Ninendo DS screen shoved two inches from my nose to view his latest captured Pokemon with slightly less than enthusiastic zeal, “yes, very nice dear.” My daughter mutters, “she’s bored of your darned Pokemon,” but to no avail. I glare her into silence.
“You don wanna see my Pokemon?”
“Oh I do indeed, it’s just that I’m not feeling very well at the moment.”
“She doesn’t like you jumpin on her like that.”
“You don like me to be a cat on yur lap?”
“Oh I do indeed, it’s just that you’re quite a big boy now.”
“Yur too darned heavy man!”
“I am heavy?”
“Well heavier than you once were dear…..when you were smaller than you are now.”
“Lighter. Yur a great big lump a bones.”
“I am bones?”
“Well……your bones are …….bigger too…..than they once were……when you were smaller.”
“Yur bones are all pokey, don’t you get it? It hurts when a big lumpy, pokey boned boy jumps on yah!”
He blinks at his sister, as he kneels on my lap, all 76 pounds of him. He turns to face me, “is wot she is says……..true?”
“Well…..I suppose……sort of……” I wince and wait.
“Well why didnaya tell me?”
“!”

This post is from from my other blog here



Done and dusted.



He didn't want it to get 'dirty' by putting it ON the cake!

Any takers?

This post is from from my other blog here

Pin pricks of panic tweak my brain stem as the minutes pass, more birthday party guests arrive and there is no sign of his dad. Two hours of merriment seems more and more unlikely as friends gather to celebrate his 8th birthday at a local venue.

Parents depart one by one leaving me with an assortment of 14 children, three of my own, nine special needs children and two extra siblings, just to make it that little bit more fun. I am the only adult person present and not particularly responsible.

I make a dash for the back door to check it is locked and then to the front entrance where there is a youthful chap behind the till, “don’t let any of them leave!” I squeak and skuttle back to the smalls. I know for a fact that I have at least three bolters in my charge and two of them are mine!

I spend one hundred and twenty minutes in a state of high alert, encouraging climbers to remain earthbound, persuading picky eaters to shrug it off, negotiating disputes and opening those tricky juice pouches.

There are no meltdowns, no escapes and very little ill will.

As the last child is collected, I am ready with my sigh of relief. I am about to give myself a hearty pat on the back for my outstanding service to a successful social scene when light dawns. The success has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with the children. Each and every one of them is bigger, brighter and possibly happier than a few years ago.

Congratulations not so little people!

This post is from from my other blog here





How long? Wordless Wednesday

How long does it take the average 8 year old to open four birthday presents do you suppose? I suspect that a thoughtful careful interested child may take some while to open and examine each one. I more impulsive child may rip them all open in seconds. I’m sure there are infinite variations on a theme to suit each little individual.

Around here, we set a new record, all over and done with within a half hour. The gifts were less than perfect but that turned out to be o.k. His presents were wrapped in paper which proved a challenge for the tactile defensive digits which are always super sensitive first thing in the morning. With lots of help, kitchen scissors in someone else’s hands, he managed to achieve unwrapped. Not so long back, his brother and sister had to help. He would stand at a safe three foot distance, within view but with ears protected from the outrageous ripping sounds.

I appreciate the credibility gap here. Can it be true that a child would refuse to open a present? Indeed it can and I have proof, since I am prone to exaggeration. Each and every year parcels would arrive from abroad from relatives. Each one had a little customs label to describe the contents:- plastic dinosaur, child’s toy, Thomas the Tank engine. How I loved those labels, they were my salvation. When the telephone calls came to check whether the gift had arrived, whether it was appreciated I was able to lie through my teeth, ‘yes it was perfect, how thoughtful, how delightful, so much fun.’ Meanwhile the package would remain unopened for days, weeks or a month after the event. I would cart those packages all over the house to where he sat, where he ate, on his bed, as a constant reminder and temptation. After a few weeks I would cut open the top so that he could see the wrapped present inside but nothing would induce him to insert a hand into the lion’s jaws. Even the taunt of Thomas, that most beloved, would fail to motivate contact with paper.

Sometimes a change of approach becomes inevitable. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes growth. But surely that’s just one of the many reasons why we celebrate that date, the birthday, the day that something new was born.







If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

This post is from from my other blog here









This decorative tissue box cover provides an inexpensive, attractive, yet all too seasonal gift. It is also ready wrapped to save paper.

Sniff.


I’m told by those who know about such things that ‘gold’ is THE colour of choice but this could easily be adapted to anyone’s personal preferences.

The choice of fabrics in America is quite daunting, everything from golfing prints to stamp samples, so don’t rule out the unisex option. Fortunately there are also many cheaper remnants available for the thrifty.

Here’s how to put it together.



For your base colour, duplicate for contracting top colour. Don't forget to cut out a square for the bottom.



French seam the base colour strip and top colour strip together. French seam the side until you have the equivalent of a cylinder. Add the base. Hem the top. Insert the tissue box and add a decorative cord or ribbon. Pull a tissue up through the top to illustrate the purpose [otherwise some nitwit will try and unwrap it!] and Bob's your Uncle, or rather, you are done.

Other colour choices.





I’m working hard to get up to scratch with embellishments. American’s are big on embellishments, everything from tassels, glitter and sequins to buttons, stick on gems and ribbons. These make any item ‘fancy,’ so my daughter tells me. If it’s not ‘fancy’ then it doesn’t cut the mustard, or rather, pass the test of acceptability. Plain, simple and serviceable doesn’t rate at all apparently.






I can only guess how many gifts you need to assemble for your crowd such as the maid, chaffeur, manicurist, personal trainer and masseur, but around here, we have collected a great number of people who are involved with our children’s lives and development. I distinctly remember counting 28 people whose sterling work needed acknowledgment at this time of the year. So many expert therapists, teachers and aides all of whom were personally responsible for helping my children move forward. It’s difficult to think of just the right gift for someone who helps your child pronounce ‘th,’ someone who assists mid-meltdown in a caring and positive manner, someone who deals with the fall-out thereafter to say nothing of the one who helps reluctant digits gain the strength and dexterity to pincher grip a zip fastening. Surely this would be the time to crack open the vault and pass out the crown jewels, but who would get what? How can any of us evaluate and reward such treasures?

As yet I have no answers, so all we can do is give tokens, with sincere thanks.

This post is from from my other blog here


Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

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It's that time of year.



Are you tempted?



Something for you, or maybe a friend?

Short of cash?

Well then this maybe the choice for you.

First you need one of these:-








Which you cut into rings:-










Bind with ribbon:-

We made several different kinds, this is bias binding.





Leave to dry - glue the inside first and then fold over the front. Do not use a hot glue gun or it will melt.






Decorate.

You can find more ideas int he book called Green Bling, turning bottles into Bandles by Heidi Borchers.

So that's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, apart from the bits that I left out.

The project was my suggestion to the boys, a birthday present for their sister. They recognized pretty and therefore appropriate. After that I was pretty much on my own. However, with a little persuasion they were fully present to pass the glue when asked, choose the colours and the 'gems.' They were particularly insistent that there should be no scratchy bits on the inside where there would be skin contact. The element of surprise or secret was a bit of a blow out, as their sister was present in another room to witness the ruckus and heated debate about her preferences, but you can't have everything in life and I suspect that she was quite impressed that they took such care.

I think that probably counts as a silver lining?