I voted! Sadly thats probably the only productive thing I will do today.

I wish I were more motivated.  I know motivated people, they are a blur of motion, buzzing here and there and getting shit DONE.  I am proud of myself if I put a bra on by 9:00 in the morning.

Because I have four kids who are usually clean and show up places with what they need approximately fifty percent of the time, people are often asking me how I do it.  At first, when I would hear, ‘I just don’t know how you do it all! I only have two kids and I cannot even imagine!” from a mom who was so clearly more on top of things than I could ever be, EVER, I thought it was a joke.  I thought that they were making fun of me.  As time has gone on, however, it has occurred to me that, no, people really think I have my shit together and don’t know how I do it. So, as a public service, I write this post about how I do it “All”


I can’t do it all.  And, even if I thought I could, I have ADD and a bad case of the fuckits and don’t really want to.  I like wasting time.  I dig hanging around watching the chickens or dogs or both.  I like learning things, and that takes time, which means I may not get something else done.  Life is, after all, a long series of choices between this or that.  I l’ve choosing both except when one of the choices is laundry. I would seriously rather pick up dog poo than put away laundry.

Oh, the horror. That's embarrassing!

Oh, the horror. That’s embarrassing!

I think it is a dangerous myth that anyone can do everything.  I used to think that people could, that other mothers were doing much better than I was.  They’re not. They’re doing different than I am. They are merely making different choices.

Currently, for example, I am choosing to sit my butt on the couch writing a blog post.  I should be writing something for an event I’m speaking at Thursday night, or reading an IEP draft that I know is going to annoy me or folding the colossal mountain of laundry on the music room couch. But, nope.

Here are some things that I don’t often do.

  • Make cutesy little pumpkins/santas/turkeys out of fruit to serve to my kids class. Truth is, they mostly still know it is fruit and will continue to go for the cookies. Plus, napkins are also needed, come pre decorated and don’t go bad.
  • Throw massive themed birthday parties for my kids birthdays. I used to, but I wasn’t good at it, and the kid would rather have a birthday party in the same season as their birthday than have a perfect circus themed spectacular complete with painted clown picture board things and a mother who can make balloon animals (which of course, I can do). *side note, I freaking love these parties, if you are good at them, please consider inviting me.
  • Become team mom. You’re welcome. I did this once, it was super stressful!  There was even a banner I was supposed to craft.  All the letters fell off.  (I decided to try out this whole team mom thing for one reason, to avoid the snack chart. it wasn’t worth it.)
  • Lead committees. Nobody wants that. SQUIRREL!!
  • Put away laundry. I have a whole system in place to avoid doing this job. Because I hate it so deeply.
  • Make sock balls. You want sock balls? Do it up! I’m out.
  • Make beds. Pfft, Ain’t nobody got time for that.
  • Iron
  • Weed the garden. Either grow taller than the grass, or die, those are the options.  It’s not pretty, but the tomatoes still did great!
  • collect laundry from kids rooms.  If you want clean pants, bring it to the laundry area. Mom is too lazy to search for work.

This doesn’t mean I do nothing, obviously with four kids, three dogs, twelve chickens and some mischievous ducks, I have a lot of things to do! I just don’t do everything.  Your house is almost certainly tidier than mine, your kids are most likely showering way more often, and perhaps you are busy organizing a wonderful daddy daughter dance! GO YOU! Keep up the good work!  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to “Incentivize” a kid to clean up the kitchen so we can make some cookies.

A quick update

I’ve been missing, so I thought I would catch up the four people who read this.  I know, you’ve been just withering away. (You know what? The world really does need a sarcasm font.)

First of all, I’m still a vegetarian. Which has been mostly easy, even at barbecues.  The only time I have really felt sad and deprived was at a wedding, but, there aren’t so many of those in my life.

We got some chickens!! I adore the chickens.  They are way more fun than I thought th would be. I assumed they would be sort of a pain in the ass that was worth it, but they are much much better than that! We are getting more in the spring. A word of warning for those aspiring chicenistas, you WILL get more chickens. It’s worse than cats!



I also got Instagram, so now I can be a super cool, filtered dork instead of the plain ol dork I used to be!

I met a new friend who happens to live in the neighborhood and also has a painfully unique life! She introduced me to our tribe, so now I have a vast network of moms who all get it! They live over here   http://www.momsfindhealing.com

Over the summer we lost our beloved wire fox terrier Oz, he was an asshat, but we loved him dearly. We decided to honor him by welcoming a rescue dog to take his place. We got one who happens to be SO sweet. I’m also fairly certain that she is mostly cat and mountain goat. Very little actual dog.



Other than that, everything is about the same. livin the dream.

Nope. Not the same.

ok. Something has been bugging me a little while now, and by a little while I mean a really long time.

This statement, “Oh, I think that all children have special needs though. I mean everyone has their rough days with their kids, right?”

Ummm, fucking NO. The thing is, that may be your truth.  I can get that. I understand that all children at some point or another can be just about as enjoyable as getting a Pap smear and dental work done at the same time.  I totally understand that ALL kids have good and bad days. I understand this, because I have four kids, two “significantly screwed”(this is a technical term)  and two, “typical”.  The thing that people who have only typical kids do not get is that most often, a good day for a special needs kid is like a bad day for your typical kid.  Seriously. I am not making it up.

So, to illustrate this point, I thought I would go ahead and share some of the things that have happened in my home recently that I took as fairly normal. These are not things that your friend with special needs kids is going to share with you over coffee. She is just not, because she is afraid to embarrass her kid (yeah. Sorry kids. This is for the greater good) or, because you may judge her, or because she has lost friends already because of sharing these things, or because she doesn’t want to seem negative, or because she likes you and doesn’t want to have to punch you hard in the throat for suggesting a chart. (Side note.  Do not suggest charts to anyone ever. EVER) but, these are real things that happen in houses all over and have become rather routine.

I shall go back in my memory about a week.  I have ADD, so the timeline will be off.  You can handle it.🙂  I have multiple special kids I shall not distinguish between them for this list. Additionally, I have omitted anything that is totally normal but incredibly annoying from the list. But those things happen too, obviously.

Here goes…

My kid got caught laying in the chicken coop – which my nephew calls a, “Chicken Poop” because that is more appropriate – AGAIN. (It’s that last word that should freak you out.)

I have had meetings and or been called in to the principals office about a gazillion times in the last month.  There was a full two week vacation in the last month.

My kid drew on his front teeth with a pencil.

My kid decided that the bathroom was a bad idea and he could just keep a towel in his room instead. When asked about this, he reported that it was my fault because I don’t want him in the bathroom. (WHAT!?!?  Umm. No)

My kid has been throwing away his water bottles and taking “new” water bottles from the trash at school to fill up in the boys room with sink water. (Do not try to figure this out. It will make your brain cry)

My kid got mad at me and peed all over the bathroom. (No. No.  He didn’t miss, I get that boys do that. He FIRE HOSED THE WALL)

My kid wore snow pants out in the snow, but filled them with snow. AGAIN.

My kid ate multiple non food items.

My kid cried about not having any friends until I told him it was my fault because I am bad at scheduling.

My kid wrote down that he loves me in his diary, but he has never told me that.

My kid had a two hour rage about the necessity to poop.  (I’m not exaggerating two hours)

My kid got approximately four hours of sleep each night, which is true every week.

My kid ate his fingernails to bloody stumps, cause he doesn’t process pain in a normal way.

That is a weeks worth.  And I’m fairly certain I have forgotten some, or blocked it out.

Now, add to that ALL the normal things that happen, whining, fighting, broken stuff, messiness, picky eating, aversions to showers, talking back, shirking homework, eating all the chocolate chips at once, teasing the dog- all of it. It gets rather large, right?

Raising a special child is a HUGE deal. It is all encompassing and makes your soul tired.  It is also all empowering and wonderful and amazing because accomplishments are just bigger, for both the parent and child.  I Have grown into a much more patient and able human because of them. So, I am not looking to bitch. I am merely saying, NO. it is not the same. Nope, your typical kid doesn’t drive you crazy like that too. Nope, you do not understand. And that is SO ok. I don’t need you to understand! I just need you to acknowledge that it is different.  Cool? Cool.

I am not surprised


Spread more love than hate.

Spread more love than hate.

The events at the Boston Marathon are horrifying, and so deeply upset me that I could not stop crying last night. I mean, anyone who has ever been to the Marathon knows that it is more than just a race, or a party. The Marathon is a happy place, filled with people loving other people. There are spectators at every mile of the route, there to cheer people on.  Sometimes loved ones, but mostly strangers. The first time I attended the Marathon I cried. I had no idea, was not prepared for the wave of love and camaraderie that is the Boston Marathon. There are people who run the marathon for no other reason than to help other runners make it. Some of them run in silly costumes, to lift the spirit of those runners who start to wonder if they have what it takes! There are people who run, while pushing their kid in a wheelchair to give them the feeling of sailing over a finish line! The spectators stand nearby and cheer.  But they don’t just yell and jump up and down, No.  They wait, when they see someone struggling then they cheer. These strangers cheer their hearts out, saying things like, “I KNOW you can do it!” And, “Keep going! You’ve made it this far!” And, “The mind quits long before the body!”  Now, I haven’t been to other Marathons, so maybe that happens everywhere, but I feel like Boston is special.

When I heard about what happened, I was shocked.  But, only for a second. The next second my thought was, of course. Because people throw rocks at things that shine.

What didn’t surprise me, not for a second, not even a tiny bit, was the fact that after a bomb went off, there were more people running toward the bomb site than away.  Way more. And these are not stupid people. We are wise enough in the ways of the evil now (sadly) that everyone knew that there was more than one. EVERYONE. But, they didn’t care.  People were hurt and helpers were needed. Boston raises helpers. That is just how it is.

So, I was not surprised that no more blood donations were needed, because so many people ran to the hospital.

I was not surprised that when people heard that all cell service had been shut down they unlocked their wifi so people could find each other.

I was not surprised that hundreds of people offered their homes to stranded runners and spectators.


Because this is Boston. This is how it’s done.

And now, these people who blew up our beautiful Patriots day, they WIILL be found. And dealt with. Because this is Boston, and God help you if you hurt us.  We will spread more love, we will take care of those who need taking care of, but we will also seek out the source and squash it. In the same way that I don’t allow a wasp to stay in my house.

An area feminism missed…

I’m one of those people who notices words. I think that words are interesting (captivating, alluring, enchanting) and powerful (Efficacious, compelling, influential)   When I read anything at all, I wonder why a person would choose one world over the gazillions of other words that he or she could have chosen.

As a word lover, I want to share something that I’ve noticed.

Why is it that the most popular insults are almost all female based? I was just sitting here watching NCIS, while waiting for the Walking Dead, and one of the characters called himself a Son of a Bitch. It struck me that that wasn’t really a self depreciating comment. He was actually insulting his own mother! How rude. The poor lady, I’m sure she tried her hardest, just like the rest of us, and despite all that she did, she ended up with a douche for a son. <– SEE!

So, here’s a list of all the girlie insults I can come up with right now.

  • Bitch
  • Pussy
  • Son of a bitch
  • Douche
  • Cry/Run/Throw/Punch like a girl

And then there are a BUNCH that even with my potty mouth I don’t wanna write down… Starting with T or C and sometimes with waffle tacked on at the end to amuse me.

Sure, there’s dick, dickhead and asshole, but nobody uses Richard Cranium when they’re really bringing the big guns.  Nobody.

So what gives?

I think we should revolutionize our insults. I think we should start saying, “Don’t be such a little penis about it!” Or, “You’re a daughter of an Ass.”  I mean, it just seems fair.

I leave you with Betty White, she’s clearly right (As usual).


Hope fenced with fear

I had a bad day.

And, it wasn’t even Tuesday.

Tomorrow will be Tuesday, and there is no school – for reasons I cannot fathom. I am afraid.

You see, my son has RAD. That’s short for reactive attachment disorder.  He is a RADish. He also has a boatload of other issues, which is very typical for a RADish, but for today we shall talk about RAD.

I get worried about sharing this information with you. I worry that my son will be judged harshly, or not given the chance he deserves. I worry that I may tell too much of a story that is not mine to tell. But, I have given it some thought and decided that those people who know us in real life already know about RAD, because I talk too much. And, perhaps there is another RAD parent out there who could use the support of not being so painfully unique. Almost certainly I am not the only RAD parent who had a bad day. So, I’m gonna risk it.

As far as my RADish’s story, I will not be sharing that here. It belongs to him, and honestly, he doesn’t have that much in this world that is his.

To start, a quick primer on RAD.  Basically, RAD is when a kid (or adult, since people grow up) has busted velcro.  Imagine if we were all made with Velcro bits that were really sticky with some people, less sticky with others, and occasionally not sticky at all. When we met a match to our Velcro, we would happily attach to that person, rip away from them for periods of time, but re-bond quickly and easily upon reunification.  For people with RAD in Velcro land, they would have hardly any Velcro loops. Instead of rarely finding someone they couldn’t stick to, it would be everyday.  Now imagine that not being sticky hurts. A lot. Imagine that you feel that it is your fault that your loops are haywire. And, imagine that you react to this pain the same way a Hell’s Angel reacts to some scumbag scratching their ride.  Not pretty.

Kids get RAD early in life. Most kids with RAD were adopted, though certainly not all. Mine was. Children need to feel safe and secure. When this doesn’t happen, for any reason, RAD is a possible outcome.

If you want to read more specific stories of how RAD develops please visit http://www.radkid.org


RAD is a spectrum, like most things. Some people with RAD can do pretty ok, as long as they have a little understanding. Some people need the safety and balance of a residential treatment center (RTC).  We are on the less scary side of the spectrum, thank God. So far we have not needed any outside the home placements. We do have an alert system at night, to let us know if he is out of his room.  This is mostly to let him know that, yes, we are sleeping, but we will know if you leave or if anyone goes in your room. Making a RADish feel safe is job one!

Raising any person with RAD is not a cake walk. It’s really, really hard. It feels like reading upside down. Responding to a RADish the way you would to a typical kid almost always ends in ruin. From, “Hey, nice job today! I love you.” Which will cause at least a day of breaking things, screaming fights and meltdowns. To, “RADish, why did you do that?” Which leads to an epic battle about how he didn’t even do that thing that you watched him do.  So, through therapy you learn to say things differently. Handle things a little more gently, until he can catch up.  I love my RADish. I just really wish he could love me back.

To a RAD kid, loving someone (or something – all cool toys must die) is a huge risk. The people he loved by default as a baby showed him that people will hurt you if you love them, so they just can’t.  And, they know it. They are so very jealous of people (and pets) who can attach.  Luckily for my RADish, I understand jealousy VERY well (giant character flaw, I’m working on it).

Loving a RADish is a constant state of hope fenced with fear. Because a RAD kid is an excellent liar, and thief.  A RAD kid will only show the explosive raging storms to the person or people who are closest emotionally. As a stay at home mom, that’s me. So, I get all of the hatred and anger thrown (sometimes quite literally) at me. Kid stressed out because his teacher is nit picking him -rage at mom. Really anything I didn’t do that upset him, he just saves it up and rages at me. It’s awesome. But, I stopped taking it personally, and he is making some progress in this area.

Also, because he only shows me his true colors, I frequently look like an ass in public.  Let’s say for example, that the last two times he went outside he chucked rocks at his sister, and now we are at a playground with tons of rocks.  Well, I’m going to follow him around so that I can see him the entire time. Sounds fine? Now add that he is way older than two and yelling at me that, “I don’t know why you won’t just let me play! I’m not a baby, stop following me around! I can’t just have fun with my friends?” And now I look like the overbearing mother who won’t let her kid grow up. This annoys me more than it should, so we avoid any playground that has enclosed climbing structures so I can see the kid from further away.

I have a bunch more to tell you about this.  Alas, it will have to be in another post, as it is now Wednesday morning, and I must rally the children for school and then hunker down in my bunker to advocate for this kid who cannot love me.  Cause on Monday the school called to see if it was ok with me if they called the police in to talk to my kid Because he took a pen off his teachers desk. No. No it is not ok. And, you have awakened my inner Dixie Carter and my inner Olivia Pope. So, enjoy that. Because like I mentioned before, he cannot love me, but I sure as hell love him. Enough for both of us.

Bacon flavored WHAT!?!


Bacon flavored WHAT!?!

Ok, as a new veggie person, I was delighted to find that there are many, many bacon flavored items that are in fact animal free! Like… Bacos. Awesome.

I have been disturbed, however, to find oh so many horrifying things never meant to taste like bacon. Bacon popcorn, Bacon envelopes (I dunno), Bacon floss, bacon gum balls, bacon frosting (in a tube), gummy bacon (decidedly not vegan, but still…), bacon soda… But, without a doubt, the most bizarre bacon flavored thing I’ve found was this. Bacon condoms with bacon lube!! The tag line of said product is, “Make your meat look like MEAT!” Gack. And, the website tells me the lube is also good for, “Giving your lady a massage.” The freaking horror!

I just thought I would help your Friday by bringing the fact that bacon condoms exist in the world. You know, in case you always wanted your meat to look like meat.  You, are welcome.

(bacon condoms brought to my attention by my fellow Ninja Mom Stephanie Rindfleisch – thanks man!)