Witty Bean

I just love a good spooky story. Horror/slasher books and movies give me a legit high. No blood needs to be spilled honestly- even a simple, disquieting short film will have me yearning for more. When I was growing up, my dad would gather us in a dark bedroom and feast us on tales of headless horses (not horsemen!), eerie forests filled with the sounds of moaning spirits and vengeful ghosts. At the end, he would bid us a chirpy goodnight, leaving us slightly stunned in the murky twilight. It was highly unsuitable for our young impressionable minds, but that was half the thrill. Every shadow seemed ominous - dark and waving in the night breeze, ready to sprout some claws if y ou looked closely. My sister was younger and less aware of paranormal possibilities, so she usually drifted off quicker into that deep, comfortable sleep. I was however still half awake, my heavy eyes still aware of every flickering corner of the bedroom. Both terrified and exhilarated, but vowing

Button walked when he was 14 months old. He was this chunky baby, just oozing chub and so we weren't worried when he didn't meet some of his gross motor milestones. He'll walk when he's ready we told ourselves and continued kissing those fat toes. Well, he needed help to learn to crawl and walk. Physical Therapy was a Godsend and soon he was pulling himself up and cruisin' like a pro. He took his first steps a few days shy of his 15th month, his mouth half open with concentration and trepidation. One, two steps...  little legs pumping up and down until he did that small wobbly almost-run and reached my outstretched arms. We hugged him and cheered, proud faces and relieved glances.  I remembered every mental inch of that memory this past week when we were encouraging Button to try to walk again. His surgery went well, he came home the same day and basically chilled hard, alternating between couch and bed. We gave him his pain meds, lots of fluids and even more

We wake up in the darkness of an unreasonably cold Winter morning. I've gotten a couple of hours of fitful sleep at best. A quick shower, some dark coffee and we're ready. Button is woken up, dressed in loose, warm clothing and reassured that he is going to be done and home in a few hours. He's getting surgery today. It is an outpatient procedure to help correct his toe walking, but because he is small and likely to wiggle- he has to go under general anesthesia. We've prepped him intensively with visuals, a social story and a trip to the surgery center. We tried our best to not overload him with too much information - toeing a fine line between prepping him and scaring the bejesus out of him. He has his brave face on - sleepy but watchful eyes, trusting us to do the right thing by him. He's earning this rad subway train station toy set as a reward for the procedure and that is keeping him reasonably cheerful. The surgery center and staff are very nice. They are

You know those days that start off nice and peachy? The weather is just right, the air rich with birdsong. You're on a high from your morning run and the coffee has been brewed oh so perfectly. You can picture your entire day unfolding ahead of you in beautifully sectioned groups of work, family and leisure. Suddenly the birds stop singing. You don't think much of it. Then you trip over a toy and stub your toe. No biggie. Then your next chore is interrupted by the insurance company doing a random check on whether you still on their umbrella coverage, oh and by the way Ma'am, would you like to upgrade to our platinum-let-us-fondle-your-wallet plan? Deep breaths. Disconnect the call and move on. And then a series of seemingly minor things go wrong. The cleaners call in sick. The sink suddenly won't drain. One kid pitches a fit over a sticker. You forgot you left the ice cream greek yogurt out on the counter all night. You have to pee but the other kid is now gn

We've been married almost 13 years. We're not the limber, young newlyweds - ready to drop everything to run away on a weekend together. We've aged, we've changed and we've learned so much about ourselves and each other. We've had 2 kids together, changed endless diapers, laughed together at baby toes and toots, bought a house, gotten our siblings successfully married (to each other!) and held down good jobs. We've seen euphoric highs, and we've shared some crushing lows which only made us grow more fiercely protective of each other.  I used to be impulsive, willful and headstrong. Thought I knew better. Thought I was this larger than life person with intense emotions and eyes full of stars. You know what my husband changed about that? Nothing! He still believes all those wonderful things about me and still looks at me like I'm the most exquisite woman he's ever laid eyes on. He celebrates my passions and holds me safe when life deals me a few b

There comes a stage in your parenthood where your child knows more about something than you do. I pride myself on being pretty smart and knowledgeable about a variety of things kid related. I have been able to successfully explain games/trends/activities to my kids without sneakily checking "rules of scrabble junior" on my smart phone. So of course I had to go ahead and think I knew everything about everything until one of my kids trips me up and watches me flail pitiably in my ignorance. Example : Button is a total whiz at Video games. He plays all sorts - racing, mine craft, Concept, free roam open world, driving any sort of land/see/air/rail vehicles and of course the angry Birds genre of knocking things over and over again. He's not just good at them- he's brilliant. Give him a few years and he'll be sporting a backwards baseball cap and chugging his sixth four loko, while trying to beat a bunch of sweaty teenagers in a Halo 10 tournament. So imagine the l

Sorry about standing you guys up 4 days in a row. My husband generously shared his virus with me so I was coughing and hacking up half my lung.  I took a turn for the better thanks to modern medicine and am feeling as perky as ever which is in perfect congruence with this post. After Monday's grump fest ,thankfully today I'll be talking about the things that make my heart smile: Fellow special needs parents - I've meet so many moms ( and a few dads) who have kids with autism/asperger's/down's/CMD/Etc. Some of them in the flesh and some of them online. Most of these parents share the same philosophies as me, which obviously makes conversations flow  easier and organically. A minority of them heavily disagree with my schools of thought and that's totally acceptable in itself. But every single one of them has this huge aura around them. They have this emanation of fierce love and pride in their child. They're all vulnerable and sensitive and rubbed a litt

Today I'm feeling like lists, so here goes. Things that really annoy me : People who brag about how little sleep they got - we get it! Coworkers, cashiers, random people you run into. Somehow this is meant to convey a sense of superpower : "I slept for just 2 hours and look how functional I am". Well, I got news for you! I see all the surreptitious yawns you think you're hiding and I've seen corpses look fresher, so here's your damn medal. Now shut up about sleep! Not-so-obvious racists : See these jerks are worse than overt racists because you can never spot them coming. You're standing in line at the grocery checkout, and you get this weird vibe coming off Cashier Susan who's quick to smile and greet every white customer. But when it's my turn, Cashier Susan will grunt a non committal sound, lose the chirpy eye contact and rush through the process, before smiling widely at the blonde lady next in line. I've seen Cashier Susan fo

We have these interesting terms in the special needs/autism world. NT (neurotypical aka non autistic), HF (high functioning), mild/moderate/severe as in degrees of autism (as if such a vast spectrum can be so cleanly and conveniently categorized). The use of these descriptions and acronyms is all pervasive. So much so that even someone like me (who is reasonably moored to the non special needs world) starts to think in absolutes. This was before I had my daughter. Despite my medical training (and well my own experience as a former child), I was quick to assume that all typically developing children were intrinsically programmed to go through their day without too much fuss and fluff. They would eat their meals with angelic smiles and nary a tantrum. Bath times and nap times would be such a breeze and play dates would basically be an excuse for us moms to sit back and sip coffee while the kids just got along so infuriatingly well! Essentially the child would basically raise him/herself

I always thought I would be this perfect mom. I pictured myself lounging in the backyard with my bright eyed little baby, both of us contently playing with finger paints for hours before heading inside for a healthy snack of fruit and Greek yogurt. My child would look at me with wondrous love and I would smile back with an elegant toss of my head as I perused my idea book for our next hands on activity. The late afternoon sun would filter in just so, and my whole life would be lit with that warm sepia glow of a successful motherhood experience. *Record scratch* *Freeze frame*  Voice-over Narrator: “Yeah, that’s definitely not what happened!”  I had my son, Button,  postpartum anxiety and a world of guilt for not being the mom I thought I would be. I constantly critiqued myself for every choice I made, every parenting crossroads and every time my chunky baby tripped over his chubby  wubby  feet (mostly because of me). I hated that I was neither elegantly tossing my head