Ammo Forthcoming

I have a problem with spoonerisms. That problem is that I commit spoonerisms on a tragically regular basis. My adored Sweet Babou then laughs and guffaws and mocks. I pretend to be in high dungeon about it, with the Miss Piggy ‘harrumph!’ which makes him chortle harder. This amuses the children … usually.

Yesterday, Spock was cozied up to me on the couch while her daddy teased me. At some point, she felt he had gone far enough. He must be punished for mocking mommy.

Thus, she whispered in my ear, “I’d fart on his leg, but I am all outta farts. I’ll get him later.”

We had refried bean burritos last night as part of Taco Tuesday. I have a feeling that she’ll not need to wait long before she is fully reloaded … and then Sweet Babou is in for it!

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A Mommy Minion Mashup

Yesterday, I was cuddling my five year old daughter, Spock. (Yes, big surprise there.) Spock was being extra-adorable, saying how much she loved me and how glad she was that I was her mommy, and other things that turned me into a puddle of goo. She also told me I was a ‘perfect’ mommy. There is no such animal. I told her that I wasn’t perfect, but that I wished that I was. I would love to be a perfect mommy.

Spock thought for about a nanosecond and then piped up with, “I know what could make you perfect! If you did my bidding!”

Yes, the child used the word “bidding”. Like she was the cutest little Disney Villain on the planet. I, of course, burst into hysterical laughter.

My laughter just inspired Spock to pat me and say, “No. really. If you just did my bidding you could be perfect.” She was trying to help so why was I cackling like a dweeb?

I love that kid. So. Much.

Posted in daughters, I like this, dammit., life as I know it, motherhood | 6 Comments


Bad things happen in the world and I don’t want to think about it. Thus, I shall think about another Sheldon & The Fokker Daughters moment.

We were on day two of our stay at my parents’ abode, and the kids were dog-tired from a lack of sufficient snoozing. Sheldon, ever the pragmatist, was the first on to hit the pillows when it was time to go to bed. In fact, he helped announce to the multitudes that it was time to “gotobed”. That’s how he says it – like gotobed is one word. It is freaking cute.

Anyway, Sheldon is nestled all snug in his bed, but Lilo and Stitch are having a final delay-the-horror-of-bedtime talk with Granny. My mother’s house is made out of tile and ice and it is like the reverberating sound chamber of ultimate non-quiet. Seriously, if you sneeze in the kitchen it will wake up everyone in the house by the time it is done echoing and reechoing off the walls and floor. Mom needs to get some area rugs up in there, stat.

The upshot is that Lilo & Stitch & Granny are talking in moderate voices but it is still loud. Their voices are penetrating Sheldon’s bedroom door. Their voices are preventing him from journeying to the land of nod, where he wants to be dammit.

Finally, Sheldon can bear it no longer and hollers, in a voice that sounds like a robotic pissed-off Mickey Mouse, “What part of gotobed means stand in the hall talking!”

This sends the chickens to their coops and he has peace. Well, except for my cackling and snorts of mirth. It was a long time before I stopped my chortling.

Posted in I like this, dammit., life as I know it | 3 Comments

Want a Slice?

A final funny car trip story from my trip to my parents’ house last week:

We were less than a mile from my parent’s homestead, on a very curvy country road with zero traffic, so I slowed the car down to crawl and opened all the windows in order for the children (and adults) to enjoy the summer scents of mown hay and honeysuckle. We were all enjoying the country air when suddenly Sheldon announced, “I smell cow dung!”

Yes, he used the word dung. Yes, this ignited a firestorm of suspected animal dung smells detected in the evening breeze, including the poo of the horse, sheep, rabbit, and raccoon. The mirth in the back of the van was great.

Yet, it became greater.

My five year old daughter, Spock, chimed in with the piquant information that she could smell “frog farts”.

Oh, the hilarity.

There was untold levity in my van. The hilarious joy of the word “fart” had been unleashed and there was no way to recapture it. There was a veritable miasma of happiness going on amongst the little ones. Finally, Sheldon took it to the next step and asked, “Who cut the cheese?”

As soon as kiddie laughter had resumed tolerable decibels,my sweet little Stitch replied. “I did. You want a slice?” The way she drew out the sibilance of the word slice had to be heard to appreciated. No sooner do the howls of laughter, as much from the adults as the children, died down Stitch stole the show again by proclaiming, “You might like it on toast.”

If we had not arrived at the parental abode shortly thereafter, I fear I would have ruptured an internal organ from laughing.

Posted in Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, daughters, I like this, dammit., life as I know it, motherhood, scared for life, Too Much Information | 2 Comments

Sweet Pea and Sheldon

I went to KY to visit my parents, and I forced my very nice friend Sweet Pea and her son Sheldon to come with me. Sheldon is on the autism spectrum like me and Lilo, and is phenomenally smart. His mother is a wonderfully talented ‘normal’ person, so I wind up ‘translating’ (as one ASD person to another) what Sheldon is probably thinking. I also find the kid hysterically funny. Here’s some of the events that have occurred, told with Sweet Pea’s permission.

Sheldon sustained a scratch while playing in the woods. His mom asked, “Is that where a stick scratched you?” Sheldon, looked at the scratch, looked at her, and precisely explained that, “If the limb is still on the tree it is customarily called a twig. A twig scratched me.” His mom told him that stick was a suitable synonym for twig, but Sheldon and I knew that it was a twig dammit. Muggles and their loosey-goosey definitions!

Sheldon and I were talking about why I was ‘aunt’ Betty, even though I am biologically not related. So I explained the concept of fictive kinship based on sociocultural bonding. He listened, was thoughtful, then looked me right in the eye and said “I find you disturbing.” His mom was embarrassed but I was enchanted. Why? Because to her he was being ‘rude’ whereas I knew that he was communicating to me that my new definition was causing a processing disturbance. Fictive kin? That is a whole new set of rules!

The little guy also trusts me to answer bigger concerns. He was over playing with the Fokker Daughters and he took a break to come tell me, “I think my parents have sex.” I asked him why he thought that. He said it was because they didn’t want him to come into their room some mornings. I told him that they were probably wanting to continue sleeping rather than having sex. They probably had sex when they knew he was asleep. He was happy as a clam to know WHY his parents wanted privacy at 5:00 AM. Sleeping in? Puzzle solved!

He’ll also rat his parents out, because like a lot of ASD kids he is a miniature tape recorder and you THINK he isn’t listening but he is, and he doesn’t understand that some things are public v/s private information. Sheldon meandered up to me and said, “My mom got so mad at my dad she used the f-word.” Then, afraid I wouldn’t know what that was, he said, “You know; fuck?” Why yes, Sheldon. I do indeed know what the f-word is, but thank you for clarifying. Now, help me mop up the floor because I have peed myself laughing.

Finally, Sheldon discovered his budding heterosexuality, thanks to Lilo. He leaned over the couch to kiss her (they are ‘engaged’ and have been for a few years) and missed, landing face first on her chest. He reared back, confusion on his face. Her chest had changed! It was softer! There were some tiny squashy lumps! Well, Sheldon knew what you’re supposed to do with the squashy lumps on a lady’s chest. Thus, he started motorboating Lilo just like his dad does to his mom. Lilo looked bewildered at his weird behavior, but not perturbed.  Sweet Pea shrieked and ran to stop him, her face flaming with embarrassment, while I fell on the floor guffawing. When Sweet Pea had hustled him away for The Lecture, Lilo asked me, “What was that?” I told her it was nothing she needed to worry about yet.

So here’s a big THANK YOU to Sheldon and Sweet Pea for going with us to my parents’ house and keeping me profoundly entertained!

Posted in Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, daughters, I like this, dammit., life as I know it, motherhood, Too Much Information | Leave a comment

Hello Gozer and Gamer :)

Soooooo … guess who I am watching swim in my mom’s pool right this minute? That’s right – Gozer!! Gamer is inside playing on the Wii (as apropos hiss moniker). Although my BabyBro isn’t speaking to me (big whoop) they have apparently decided Mom’s babysitting services are too needed to maintain the hardline anti-Auntie stance. Whatever, I am just happy to see them.

I’ve also gotten to meet the New Baby, codename Aqua Velva. She is very teeny, but Taintface is being very attentive to this baby so YAY! Whether she has matured as human or wants to ‘prove me wrong’ I care not. The results are what counts.

Right now Lilo is holding Aqua Velva and Gozer is playing with Spock and Stitch is hanging with Gamer and all is right in the world.

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Breastfeeding & Blame & BPAs

When a woman has difficulty breastfeeding and becomes emotionally distraught because she WANTS to breastfeed, it is often the pro-breastfeeding movement that gets blamed for making her unhappy. The argument is that if breastfeeding advocates would just stop harping on about breastfeeding, then women could formula feed with much less stress.

Okay, I understand that our culture puts a ridiculous amount of pressure to be a “good mom” on mothers while simultaneously demanding an unattainable level of perfection to win the desired “good mom” accolades. The ‘mommy wars’ could drive anyone batshit. I get it.

However, it isn’t the pro-breastfeeding sites that are calling formula-feeding mom’s “bad”. I just check dozens of sites and all of them have at least a sentence or two about how a woman should cut herself some slack if she chooses to formula feed or cannot breastfeed. It is the misogynistic, patriarchal culture that treats motherhood as a ‘contest’ with only one way to ‘win’ that is to blame. Because breast is best, any mom is implicitly told BY HER CULTURE that formula feeding is ‘bad’ because second-best is equivalent to dead-last and for total losers who don’t really love their babies and are bad moms. This is profound bullshit, but most of us buy into it anyway, because we’ve been exposed to the messaging for decades before we become moms.

Instead of breastfeeding advocates being called “Nipple Nazis”, what we need is push back against a culture that acts as if there is only one right way to be a mom and if you don’t win first prize then you lose and have failed your kids and are a horrible worthless woman. Just like you have to be a size zero twenty-two year old or you are ‘ugly’. Culture, not breastfeeding advocates, is the culprit in making moms feel inadequate and wretched.

For example, my kids act as though green veggies are dog poo in arsenic gravy. It is a battle to get them to eat green veggies and I know they are NOT getting the ‘ideal’ amount of green veggies that pediatricians recommend. Yes, that makes me feel bad because I too want to be a “good mom”. Nevertheless, I don’t assume pediatricians and their obsession with nutrition are to blame for my feelings of failure. I don’t regard nutritionists as “Broccoli Nazis” because they keep yammering on about the health benefits of green comestibles. It is my yearning to live up to the cultural ideal of motherhood that makes me feel bad. THAT is the part I am trying to resist, even as I try to coax my kids into eating their veggies.

Moreover, the women who are unable to breastfeed aren’t ‘inadequate’ or ‘failures’ and it is only the cultural message of win/lose parenting that makes them feel that way. Worse, they are usually sabotaged by their culture and set up to ‘fail’ before they even start playing. And I am not just taking about easily seen phenomena, like the fact women aren’t given enough maternity leave and breastfeeding becomes ungodly hard once you return to work. Nope. I am talking about the fact many women have been poisoned by endocrine-disrupting chemicals and pesticides as kids (or even when they were fetuses) and there is no WAY they can breastfeed because they never developed mammary tissue, or didn’t develop enough of it:

“research finds that some pre-adolescent daughters of mothers exposed to pesticide spraying will never be able to breast-feed their babies. With others there is uncertainty. Although there is breast growth, some daughters lacked development of the mammary tissue needed to produce milk, or developed a minimal amount. As the girls in the exposed group matured, their breast size became much larger than normal, yet they had less mammary tissue and often none at all, while the unexposed girls were normal.”

Don’t think you were exposed to pesticides? Think again. Your conventionally grown food is laden with pesticide residue, which the government insists won’t harm you in such small amounts. These are the same folks who gave you the okay to the now-shown-to-cause-cancer-and-diabetes artificial sweetener aspartame.

Endocrine disrupters, or EDCs, aren’t just in pesticides either:

“Chemicals that are known endocrine disruptors include diethylstilbestrol (the synethetic estrogen DES), dioxin and dioxin-like compounds, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), DDT, and some other pesticides.

Bisphenol A (BPA) is a chemical produced in large quantities for use primarily in the production of polycarbonate plastics and epoxy resins. The NTP Center for the Evaluation of Risks to Human Reproduction completed a review of BPA in September 2008. The NTP expressed “some concern for effects on the brain, behavior, and prostate gland in fetuses, infants, and children at current human exposures to bisphenol A.

Di(2-ethylhexyl) phthalate (DEHP) is a high production volume chemical used in the manufacture of a wide variety of consumer food packaging, some children’s products, and some polyvinyl chloride (PVC) medical devices. In 2006, the NTP found that DEHP may pose a risk to human development, especially critically ill male infants.

Phytoestrogens are naturally occurring substances in plants that have hormone-like activity. Examples of phytoestrogens are genistein and daidzein, which can be found in soy-derived products.”

Oh, and let us not forget the dioxins! “Dioxin exposure (perhaps in utero) has been shown to have a profound effect on mammary gland development — rendering exclusive breastfeeding impossible in some cases … Studies have indicated that dioxin exposure can affect mammary gland development in mammals, including humans (see Rudel, et. al; Fenton, et. al; and Markey, et. al in references).” The amount of dioxins in the air/soil/water have declined, but have they been phased out enough? Because 90% of the dioxins in our bodies get there via our food; even if we aren’t breathing it in, it’s in the soil for decades and thus in our food supply.  The foods that are most highly contaminated with dioxins are:

  • beef
  • dairy products (cheese, ice cream, yogurt)
  • milk
  • chicken
  • pork
  • fish
  • eggs

So, try not to breathe, eat, or drink and MAYBE you can breastfeed your baby before you return to work and have no place to pump and your supply dries up. If this upsets you then you know who to blame – breastfeeding advocates, because if we would just hush then you wouldn’t even know what you had been cheated of.

Posted in daughters, Feminism, health, motherhood, shit I think y'all should know, victim blaming | Leave a comment