Tag Archives: Little Ones

The Date

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No – not that kind of date…I wish! (Chris and I do need to get out more.)

The “date” is the day that I will have my surgery: March 11. First thing in the morning so I don’t have hours to work myself up into a ball of anxiety. I’m such a sissy.

But like I said – at least I won’t be having to have alien abduction surgery (i.e. I don’t have to be awake during the procedure – like I did for my c-section). And it’s such a routine operation that I really can’t justify any high drama. I have women in my neighborhood who are battling breast and ovarian cancer. They’ve suffered painful exploratory surgeries, the removal of body parts and months of chemotherapy and radiation. I watched my mother go through all of that and more, and she did it all with humor and courage. All of them do. My situation is nothing in comparison and it would be insulting not to follow their lead.

I consider myself very lucky. Not only to be handed a very minor and fixable problem – but also to be surrounded by these beautiful warriors. They put my own fears into perspective and prove by example that I really can face anything that comes my way. We all can.

In the meantime – I have to remember to post more. No excuses since I’m now going for short and sweet.

So here’s what I’ve got for today:

Me: Okay George – remember what I said… If you want to go to preschool, you have to listen to your teacher. I don’t want to hear anything about you whining and crying today…

George: Okay Mom.

Me: Mrs. K is in charge and you need to follow directions. If she says that you spend the whole day whining and crying again, then you may need to stay home on Monday. So remember: listen to the teacher and NO whining or crying.

Eleanor: And no yelling either.

Me: Yes – no yelling.

Eleanor: And no fighting.

Me: That’s right – no fighting.

Eleanor: And no screaming or pushing or hitting or…

Me: …Let’s not set ourselves up for failure here. Just focus on “no whining or crying” okay?

Fingers crossed…

The Updates! Plus a Little Sparkle for Good Measure…

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I’ll start with the most important update. I had a great consultation with the general surgeon yesterday.

She had absolutely no cancer-related concerns and in fact, was entirely confident that she knew exactly what she was looking at and what needed to be done to fix it. Surprisingly, there are actually two issues involved.

First the “suspicious mass,” which much like I had hoped, appears to be scar tissue resulting from my c-section four years ago. It may be endometria that developed into scar tissue or it may be an actual suture – but either way, it’s not dangerous and it can be removed. So [insert Arnold Schwarzenegger accent here] it’s not a tumor.

The second issue is that the tissue where the mass is located didn’t heal well and I can definitely expect to start developing hernias if it remains untreated. So there is a reason why post-cesarean, I was always a little puffier (that’s the medical term) on one side than the other.

SO the surgery will not just involve removing a lump – it will be a hernia operation.

And then I felt a million years old and began investigating details for bingo night at the local community center…

I still have to schedule my surgery, but I assume it will take place in early March. I was told I could wait until a more convenient time, but I’d rather just get it over with. As much as I dread going under the knife, I’m kind of done with the suspicious mass and all the of drama it stirred up. Good riddance, I say.

Oh – and here is something funny about my surgeon. She’s a super model. Or – more accurately – she looks like one. I make all of these jokes about Grey’s Anatomy, but holy hell – I really do find myself living though Seattle Grace moments. First I hear risque staff banter while waiting for my MRI, and now I’m meeting with a surgeon straight out of central casting. Let’s hope that the parallels end there. I don’t want to be that character with the routine surgery who flat lines due to some bizarre complication, while the dude getting a head transplant in the adjoining OR is miraculously raised from the dead. I prefer that my procedures remain too boring for prime time, thank you very much.

And that’s that for the (sort of) health scare. It will all be fine. And I can now get back to the business of obsessing over far more mundane issues such as cellulite and crows feet. Or maybe not – now that I’ve been given some serious perspective on what is really important in life.

Oh who am I kidding, I’m already poking at arm flab and sighing at the muffin top that’s taken up permanent residence over my Lucky jeans.

The other update is that I have a new job. A part time job, I mean.

As you may know, I helped my parents set up a blog for their Key West based home decor shop. We started the Style Key West blog in January 2010, but the intention was always to use it for promoting a new online store. That online store has of yet to move beyond the concept stage, so a year later I thought I’d throw my virtual hat in the ring. I asked my parents if they’d let me do it.

And they said yes!

Aaaaand…now I just have to figure out how. Any advice or suggestions for vendors, platforms, web designers, general social networking dos and don’ts, etc. would be much appreciated. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’m only just starting to do the research.

I have a pretty small operation going here at The Big Piece of Cake – so once [online store name to be determined] is up and running, I’ll be asking friends to help be spread the word. I’ll try not to be too annoying about it.

In the meantime? I’m going to have even more limited time for writing long posts. (And yes – all of my friends who complain about my long posts? The ones who are now smirking about this “disappointing” news? I’m giving you the finger.) But instead of taking an indefinite hiatus as I had previously planned, I’ve decided to go for brief daily posts. Just sound bytes, pictures…vignettes of each day. Just to stay in touch.

So I’ll end this – my last LONG post for a while – with a small piece of today’s happenings.

We had a milestone for the twins today: their very first Picture Day!

George could have cared less, but Eleanor approached the event with enough enthusiasm for two. She had a few ideas regarding wardrobe, and from what I could make out, she was trying to decide between her formal “Christmas dress” and an outfit involving a cute striped sweater coat.

This morning though, I was surprised to hear that she was in fact, planning to wear both as a combined ensemble. This would have looked cray-cray, and I suggested that she do either/or. Luckily, she ultimately agreed, and of course went with the more dressy (overdressed) option. We added a cardigan for warmth (the dress is sleeveless) and a headband. This is a Christmas picture showing the dress and hair accessory:


I told her to pick whatever shoes she wanted and she went with her “ruby slippers.” They wouldn’t have been my first choice…I would have suggested the silver mary janes – but it could have been worse (like light up Sketchers).

All of the fashion talk put me a little off my game and we completely missed Oliver’s bus pick up. So I had to drop him off before taking the twins to preschool. And the minute we were on our way out the door, Eleanor flung out an arm, dramatically announced that she FORGOT SOMETHING, and then raced upstairs demanding that we all wait for her.

I thought that she had to use the bathroom, but in fact, it was something far more critical. She needed to apply her “makeup.” This would be clear lip gloss, blush so pale you can’t tell she’s wearing any and some pats with a powder puff that makes her skin “sparkle.” After several minutes of primping she regally descended the stairs, sparkling like the newest member of the Cullen family. And we were on our way.

Pictures were taken up on arrival, and my daughter make a beeline for the bright light and blue backdrop. “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up” INDEED!

She’s now racing around the house in a costume half-super hero, half-Disney princess – demanding I call her Sparkle Cloud and claiming that she’ll rescue the world with rainbows.

I totally think she can.

I Very Missed You

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“Mommy! Where were you? It was too long. I cried.

“I very missed you.”


“‘Cause I pretty love you.”

-George Hood, February 2011

So yeah – things have gotten A LOT better since the last time I posted. I mean, I still have a “suspicious mass” in my lower abdomen and an appointment with a general surgeon tomorrow. But I’m also still feeling pretty confident that it’s all going to be just fine.

And the morose depression stuff? Also better. Talking to my husband and hearing from so many good friends helped put things into perspective. Actually, just knowing how much people care was probably the biggest help. Even though I closed comments, I still got e-mails from the people I don’t see every day. I wasn’t great about replying – but I do want to thank all of you who went out of your way to reach out to me. I’m not very good at asking for help – especially when I think I’m being overly dramatic (which is always). But every single message warmed my heart and reminded me of just how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life, IRL or otherwise!

In the meantime, I figured some things out, and now have an exciting new opportunity that involves blogging and design/decor. But I’ll have to write more about that tomorrow along with details about how my appointment went.

Continue to send me the prayers, positive thoughts and good juju. I honestly believe that all of it counts. Just knowing that it’s coming my way makes a big difference. And makes me even more sure that I’ll kick ass in this whole surgery thing.


Even though I’m a wuss. I can fake it.

Giving it my .01% – or – 2010: The (Blog) Year in Review

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I should have done this a few weeks ago… But better late than never.

2010 was an eventful year for The Big Piece of Cake:

I decided that it’s actually okay now to look like “somebody’s mother.”

I found a nursery CD that brought back some of the best and worst days of my life.

We (barely) survived snow prison.

I considered some pearls of wisdom and compared them to the ones I hold in my heart.

I stopped picking my kids’ noses (well – for the most part).

My oldest “baby” turned FIVE.

My oldest baby continues to turn my world upside down (and inside out and backwards).

I paused again and again to ask who/what/where/why and ended up looking to my baby ballerina who doesn’t wear pants for guidance.


Chris almost died and I had many laughs at his expense.

I died of happiness when my son tortured the neighbor’s cat.

I admitted that I’m not fun.

I could have lost Oliver and nothing about it was funny.

My children almost killed me over the summer and EVERYTHING about it was funny.

I admitted to serious disappointment and envy – but committed to keep trying.

I demanded that people not treat my special needs son like something that needs to be fixed.

There was a super hot lifeguard at the pool. And it made me think (no – not THOSE kind of thoughts!)

For the first time ever, I sent THREE children off to school.





The most disgusting thing ever happened in my house (or my vacuum cleaner to be exact).

George continued to be weird (and demanding).


Eleanor claimed that her name begins with L (among other things).

Oliver continued to “wear the pants” by not wearing them.

George became addicted to Weed.


AND for the first time ever – I finally got a decent picture of my children in front of our Christmas tree and actually mailed a holiday card.

I don’t write about everything on my blog. Sometimes I leave out important things because they’re private and sometimes I over-share. Sometimes I write super long posts that no one reads (even though they’re brilliant – and WHO loses out on that one I ask you?) and sometimes I post stupid pictures that everyone loves. Sometimes I think I have nothing to say, but somehow surprise myself. And sometimes I have ideas, but never follow up on them.

My blog is about .01% of my life – but I like to think it’s the best, worst and most honest .01%. It’s a scrap of my life – but one with some interesting detail. One with some character in the texture and color. One that might be useful, and definitely worth stuffing in a pocket just in case.

Thanks for reading my .01% I like the idea that I might be in your pocket. At the very least, I’m good for wiping tears and snot. Just ask my kids.

I DID IT! – Oh Yeah, and Merry Christmas!

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It wasn’t easy – but I did it. I actually got all three of my children to look semi-normal in a picture in front of our Christmas tree. AND I put it on a card and mailed it.

Remember that review I did for Shutterfly? Here is the finished product:




I did have one other picture that I would have preferred to use, but the composition didn’t work with any of the border layouts I liked. By making this one black and white though, it came together quite nicely.

I do wish that Oliver had a better looking haircut (those bangs!). But it was the first time since he was a year old that he didn’t thrash and scream. So I was going to like whatever they did to him – even if it was a mohawk or “business in the front, party in the back.”

The inside cover picture of Eleanor isn’t a face shot since she just LOVES that dress and you can’t really see it on the front of the card. She would have had some words for me about the “snowflakes” not showing, and I just don’t’ have the energy for it…

As for George – he’s easy. He’s a bad, bad, bad little boy – but he’s very photogenic.

Finally – it would have been nice if the boys were wearing something a little less, um, “Memorial Day picnic” for the picture. But they don’t have anything in long sleeves with a collar. I figured that ubiquitous white polos would be fine.

So that’s it – my first ever holiday card of all three children. And it’s actually pretty good. Best Christmas present ever.

I’ll be taking the next week off to catch up on my blog reading (I think I’m a month behind…)

So Happy Holidays! And I’ll see you in the New Year!

Yours, Mine and Never the Twain Shall Meet (Plus a Few Holiday Highlights)

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I don’t think it’s possible for me to not post about my Christmas tree. It’s the highlight of my holiday season and a photo shoot inevitably takes place the morning after it’s trimmed (I always decorate at night – much better for testing the lights).

This year was a little bit different as we had two tree trimming parties. One for the kids’ tree and one for mine. Theirs was a raucous party of willy nilly ornament placement and candy cane stealing. Mine was a more sedate OCD party for one.

It was clear to me that this would be the year for two trees. There was just a little too much talk about holiday decorating as the Christmas DVD watching began to rev up after Thanksgiving. Every day I was getting requests for tinsel and popcorn to string – neither of which work with my my own decorating aesthetic. So I saw the writing on the wall – hieroglyphics of children molesting my pretty little tree with their indiscriminate strewing of festive bling – and I bought a Target tree to suffer their enthusiastic pawing.

Here is their tree:





And here is mine:






I know – the security panel behind it is an eyesore – but it’s the best corner for the tree. I just pretend it’s not there.

Don’t worry – I know that some of you (Christy) prefer the colorful kids’ tree to my more conservative one. My feelings aren’t hurt. I’m very open minded when it comes to personal holiday style. To each his own and all.

Which is exactly why we have two trees in our house and I love them equally. Or more accurately – I love how much my kids love their tree as much as I love mine.

Other holiday highlights include going to visit Santa. After waiting in line for an hour fighting with the boys over the fake snow they insisted on flinging at each other, we walked away with one of the worst pictures ever taken of my children. Oh well – at least they were polite to Santa and didn’t cry or pee on him or anything.

I’ve also reveled in the rare treat of watching my daughter dance around the house in a lovely party dress that isn’t pink OR sparkly. The stars aligned and she picked out a Christmas dress that not only didn’t make me cringe, but that I actually would have picked out for her on my own. Isn’t this adorable? And it’s NAVY of all things:



And of course, nostalgia has reigned as we’ve watched all of the movies from my childhood through the eyes of this new generation. With the exception of Oliver’s eyes during the viewing of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The abominable snowman scared the bejeezus out of him and he wouldn’t come back into the room until it was over. But I did get a good laugh out of Eleanor’s periodic alerts that “It’s not scary Oliver! It’s CUTE!“

So this has been quite the merry and messy holiday season. Joy is abundant. Hope prevails. Magic is a given. Hope your December has been as festive (and pink and purple) as ours. Look for our holiday greeting on Saturday and in the meantime, much love to you and yours!


Me, Eleanor!

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Hi! It’s me, Eleanor.

I’m back and I’m SO excited because it’s Chriiiist-mmmaaaaas! Do you like to sing? I like to sing “Christmas” like this: CHRIIIIIST-MMMMAAAAS! I love Christmas.

Christmas is when you put ornaments on a tree and bake cookies and Santa comes and puts lots of presents under the tree. We have our own Christmas tree this year because Mommy said we’re not allowed to touch hers. We can only touch the ornaments with one finger. I like to tap, tap, tap on them – but not too hard. You have to be gentle. My boys can’t tap Mommy’s ornaments because they are not gentle. Not even with one finger.

Our tree is very colorful and we have red and blue and yellow and pink and green lights. It is very sparkly. There is a gold star on top and I love the star even though I wanted the stylish pink feathery one we saw at Target. I really want my own girl tree, but Mom said we could only have two. But I love my tree anyway because it has all of my favorite colors on it. It is very stylish to be colorful.


HEY! Did you know that Christmas is on Saturday? It’s not just for girls this year, but another Saturday a few days ago, I went to a birthday party for just girls. It was a Strawberry Shortcake party and we did a “strawberry walk” and I won my own chapstick. It has flowers on it. George did not go to the party because it was only for GIRLS. We ate pink food and got our nails painted any color we wanted.


Mine are pink because it’s my favorite color. I want a Strawberry Shortcake party for my birthday.


My friend Lucy was Strawberry Shortcake for Halloween and she had a hat with a strawberry on it. I was Wonder Woman!


She is a rescuer. George was a Transformer and he says Transformers are very strong. George always says that he has “strong pipes” and then makes a muscle. George’s pipes are very strong, but my legs are very fast. I’m a good rescuer.

Halloween was a long time ago. It was warm outside for the Halloween party. Then it was Thanksgiving and now it is CHRIIIIST-MMMMMAAAAAS!

Sigh. I don’t know if Santa will bring me any presents this year. I fight A LOT. With George. And Oliver. My boys make me very mad sometimes. And then I stamp my feet and say HUMPF! And Mommy says that Santa is watching and doesn’t like my attitude. But when I tell her I don’t think he’s going to bring me presents she says of course he will because he knows I try to be a very good girl. Sometimes I don’t try so hard.


Santa wants us to wear hats outside because it’s cold. But I think I’m not into hats right now. My mom and I have fights about my hat. Once I said that I don’t care about Christmas. Then Mom said that she’d let Santa know. So I said “don’t” since I was just kidding. I LOVE Christmas.

HEY! Do you want to see my new Christmas dress? It has snowflakes on it. And it’s very good for twirling. Do you want to see my famous jette? That’s my ballerina hop. I put on my silver shoes with flowers on them to wear with my dress and practice my ballerina moves. I wanted to wear my sparkly gem sandals – but Mom couldn’t find them.


My silver flower shoes are getting small and I have a bluster on my heel. It hurts sometimes because it is an open wound. That’s why I need a princess bandaid.


When I wear my Christmas dress, I have to wear my princess crown. It is very silver and sparkly and I also have a magic wand. I can do tricks with it. What animal would you like to be? I’m a magic fairy!

I like to magic things, but sometimes my wand doesn’t work. I can’t fix everything. Like my cough. I have to take cough medicine at night because I am very, very sick when I sleep. I cough and cough and cough and my throat hurts. Sometimes my voice hurts because I have a frog in my mouth and it bit me. When my mouth hurts I don’t like to brush my teeth. The toothpaste is too spicy. But I really like the pink medicine. Pink is my favorite.

So, I guess I’m growing some freckles. Mommy says she can count five on my nose. I can’t count her freckles because there are too many. Oliver is growing freckles too. But not George. He wants Mommy to count his freckles but he doesn’t have any so she has to pretend and looks at me with squinty eyes to tell me not to say that George doesn’t have any freckles. Even though he doesn’t. Sometimes I tell him anyway. Santa doesn’t like that either.

But I really really really really really really really really want a Barbie with her own brush and purse. And that’s a lot of reallys. Santa told me that he’d bring me one last time we went to see him at the mall. The line to see him was very long. But we were very good. Until the end when we knocked over the rope and I hit my head and cried.

I asked my Mom what she wanted from Santa and she said that Santa doesn’t bring presents to grownups. So I said that grownups must be really bad. They have to buy each other presents instead.

I want to give my Mom and Dad presents, but – sigh – I don’t know how to get them. We really need to give them something special to put under the tree. But I don’t know what it would be.

WAIT – I know. We can make the PERFECT CRAFT! That would be nice. I think that would make my Mommy very happy. And that makes me happy because I really really really really really really really love my Mommy.

HEY! I think that Santa is going to bring me presents after all!

Okay – I’m going to hide under the couch now. BYE!

OH! And Merry CHRIIIIIIST-MMMAAAAS!

George is Driving Me Crazy AND He’s Now Addicted to Weed

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I think I may have mentioned in the past that George can be a bad, bad, bad little boy. He ignores direct commands and often smiles in response to scolding. He gets into EVERYTHING and has recently targeted anything that Eleanor considers “special to her.”

I can’t even tell you how many times I had to look for a little plastic raccoon from her Disney Princess game today (Side note: Will someone please let me know which princess had a raccoon familiar? Maybe Snow White during her sojourn in the woods?) George kept grabbing it and running away. I thought Eleanor might have a nervous breakdown the third time it happened. And I thought I might have a nervous breakdown if I overheard just one more occurrence of evil giggling in response to her wails of despair.

Last Sunday when I picked up my three from the kids’ gym at the YMCA, I was informed by a woman on duty that George was cute, but he was “a handful.” Oh really – ya’ think? Exactly why am I going to the gym on a Sunday? Because they offer two hours of FREE CHILDCARE for my devil spawn son.

Okay, okay – he’s not that bad. But he really is exhausting. I don’t have to get into the screaming (it’s been well covered here I think), the intensity that could shatter glass through vibration alone, or the irrational need to finish every sentence no matter what catastrophe just occurred (“George – stop screaming – you can tell me about your Spiderman bandaid AFTER I put out the grease fire.”) And the naughtiness that started developing last year has now come to full fruition. He’s officially a bad, bad, bad little boy. Even if he is cute.

And unlike his older brother, he is an instant acolyte to any older boy who crosses his path. Luckily, we have a lot of good kids on our block. But I’m sorry – four year olds are not supposed to roam the neighborhood at will. Especially not on a scooter.

The scooter obsession (and yes – it really is an obsession, as part and parcel of the intensity that I often think will cause him to burst into flames right before my eyes) started last year when he was three. We got them all scooters in the Spring. And while Oliver and Eleanor liked them well enough, George made it his mission to ride a scooter as well as the seven year olds streaking past our door on their way down the hill. And he actually did it. He was dedicated. He practiced and practiced and by the end of the month could speed down our hill and make the hairpin turn to continue to the end of the cul de sac. It was pretty impressive.


It was also annoying. While his obsessive streak helped him do something that we would never have thought possible, it also guaranteed a constant stream of requests, pleas, demands to “go play scootering.” But it appears that this is just the way George (literally) rolls. It’s in or out, all or nothing, do or die.

Of course it’s now freezing outside so we’re not using the scooters much anymore. So all addictive behaviors are now focused on indoor play. For a while it was painting, which while preferable to me, added even more paper to the already out of control pile of his “workings.” Then there were the Uno cards (which he calls “Oh No” cards) that he insisted on strewing all over the floors of every room. And most recently we’ve had had to contend with colored pencils that he drags everywhere. I finally convinced him to carry them in a bag after describing gruesome scenarios involving falling, tender flesh and sharp objects. But seriously – colored pencils? He’s so weird…


The only thing that will ever trump his predilection for hoarding random objects of interest is his new passion for games. And I don’t mean Candy Land (although he’s driven me nuts with other board games in the past). It started with Chris’ iPhone. My husband doesn’t always have much foresight when it comes to entertaining his children. Letting George play a game on his phone may have seemed like an easy way to stop the screaming, but it also unleashed a whole new brand of crazy. He would never have done such a thing if he thought he’d be spending entire weekends hiding from a mini-tyrant who won’t stop asking, “Daddy – can I play games on your phone? Daddy – can I play games on your phone? Daddy – can I play games on your phone? Daddy – can I…” George is relentless.

We own a Wii that I got for Chris as an anniversary gift a couple of years ago. But it quickly disappeared to a high shelf after George jammed it with pennies and it had to be sent out for repairs. It was then only taken down when the children were in bed for the night, and I don’t think I had ever even tried to turn it on. Recently though, the son of a friend has become rather obsessed (in a George kind of way) with Wii games. I decided to learn how to set it up so that I could provide entertainment for him when he was visiting. And of course, the other kids loved it and wanted to play too.

But no one ever loves anything as much as George loves things. And he LOVES the Wii. He doesn’t really know how to do everything all on his own, but for his age and minimal exposure to technology, he’s learning fast. There have been a few times that he’s navigated through menus I didn’t know existed. I did say that he was dedicated…

So George has a new addiction. And “Daddy – can I play games on your phone,” has been replaced by, “Can I play WEED? Let’s play WEED. I want to play WEED!” Yeah – no matter how many times I correct him, he insists on calling the Wii, “the Weed.” Which makes for many “just move along quickly and don’t make eye contact with anyone” moments when Eleanor selects public places to announce “George REALLY likes Weed.“

I expect that George will always be driving me crazy with something…but I do admire his enthusiasm and general stick-to-it-iveness. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. It makes me think that almost anything is possible if you really want it enough. If you’re willing to put your whole self into attaining a goal. If you have the confidence to really believe that you can make things happen. This is a quality that I should try to cultivate in myself.

So as much as I may want to lock him in his room or spank him or just sit on him to keep him from wreaking any further havoc on the world at large, I just can’t help but be a little dazzled by my incandescent blaze of a boy. He’s a handful – yes. And he may even be the death of me. But after all all of the empty threats, reasoning, yelling, excessive punishments, begging…I usually just end up grabbing him and covering his impish smile with as many kisses as he’ll endure. Because as bad as he can be – he really is DAMN cute.

Wherein I Decide That It’s Actually Oliver Who Wears the Pants

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Sometimes I think I worry too much about Oliver. Or not so much that I worry…but that I just always assume he’s going to be the odd man out. Not without reason of course – my son is one weird little dude. I personally like this about him, but I’m also aware of the fact that “weird” isn’t a sought after quality in elementary school friends.

The fact that he’s in Kindergarten makes everything a little bit easier. He’s given some leeway as being a “little kid” and the other Kindergartners are still kind of goofy in their own ways, regardless of how much more typical they are. So Oliver continues to fly under the radar, doing his own thing his own way, and isn’t largely concerned with how he may be perceived.

That’s another thing I like about Oliver. He’s his own man. So other kids are moving on from their old preschool interests and now run around playing “Star Wars”? Whatevs – he’s still happy with his Thomas Trains. They think trains are for babies? Good – more trains for him. He’s not abandoning his ardent love of those cheeky little engines just because someone else tells him that’s so 2009. He has staying power.

He is also so incredibly comfortable in his own skin. I’ve mentioned before that he’s a very big kid. Five years old and over 60 lbs, he’s as tall as some of the second graders. And he is solid. I was also pretty tall for my age and a fairly sturdy little girl, but this always made me feel awkward. Like I was just a little too much. I felt heavier and weighted down by my size. But Oliver is sure footed and agile. He uses this sense of weightiness as an anchor. He stands firm and holds his ground. A physical quality that matches his personality.

And when I say Oliver is “comfortable in his own skin” I mean that quite literally. He likes to wear as little clothing as possible. Coats are constricting and only to be tolerated in the coldest of temperatures. He has little patience for layers. They are peeled off as quickly as they were applied. And once inside, clothes are hardly necessary. Really – what purpose do they serve when not protecting you from the elements?

Other children run in after school kicking off their shoes and flinging aside coats, seemingly deaf to their parents’ reminders to please put that in the closet. My son does this as well, but he takes it a step further by adding his pants to the trail of outerwear.

Oliver doesn’t wear pants at home. In fact, he doesn’t wear pants in any home where he feels at home. It’s not uncommon for me to walk into a room at a play date and find my pantsless son building lego towers or lounging in front of a TV. Doesn’t matter if all the other kids are fully dressed. To each his own, you know. It’s not that he’s rude – he’s just comfortable. His state of undress is really just a testament to your superb hospitality. Kudos – you hostess with the mostess, you!

I’ve come to accept this little quirk in the same way that I surrender to my daughter’s insistence on wearing nothing but pink. It’s not my preference…but I respect their choices as long as they’re not hurting anyone else (maybe just my eyes).

At the end of the day, I’m just thrilled if Oliver is at least wearing underpants.

Aside from his current trajectory toward being “the naked guy” at college parties, Oliver is quite well behaved. He’s a nice boy and very accepting of others. Feel free to take off your pants at his house too. He doesn’t judge. He likes other kids as a general rule and will only be put off by unpleasant behavior. Even then, he doesn’t take offense – he just moves on. It’s like he has this innate sense of there being plenty of room for everyone. If you give him some space, he’ll give you yours. And in such a “my team/your team” world, I find this both brave and wise. I hope he always has the strength of character and confidence required to maintain that approach to life.

So yes – he’s a special needs kid. He’s different. He’s maybe even a little weird. But he’s fine.

The other day at the YMCA, I glanced down at the kids area to see Oliver standing still while other children raced around him. I kept watching and realized that he wasn’t just standing still, he was frozen on the spot. His arms were stiff at his sides and his knees were locked. He stared straight ahead and looked as if he was trying not to blink. He stayed this way for long enough that even I, the head cheerleader for Team Different thought, “what fuck is that?” Time stood still as Oliver stayed still. Blurred shapes of playing children swirled around him, but I only had eyes for my son the statue. I thought, “what are you doing? Come on – just move already before the others notice. Walk. Play. Be normal. Please.”

Then a small figure disengaged from the only vaguely perceived melee around Oliver and tapped him on the shoulder. Just like that my son came back to life and ran out of view. And I suddenly understood. Oliver wasn’t playing some strange game of his own, oblivious to everyone around him and their potential scorn. He was playing Freeze Tag. They all were. He was part of the game. One of them.

Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees… Oliver isn’t always alone. Sometimes he really is part of the group. And sometimes he’s not, but it doesn’t matter because he’s always exactly where he wants to be. There is always a place for him.

I never need to worry about Oliver. He’s not oblivious to the world around him. He just makes his own decisions about when and where he wants to engage with it. He’s come a long way in the past few years, and the truth is, he has a long way to go. But I have more faith in him than I do in almost anyone else in my life. He is my constant and he is true to himself. I have no doubt that he will always find his place in life. One where he is happiest, regardless of what anyone else thinks about it. He is now and will hopefully always be his own man. With the support of his family and friends and without any fear of ever truly being alone. With or without pants.

L Starts with Eleanor

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My name is Eleanor. That’s El-Leh-Nor. Not Eh-Nor or Ah-Nor. My brothers always say it wrong so I tell them they are wrong. It’s EL-Leh-Nor. That’s me.

I am four. I go to preschool. I am very happy when it’s a preschool day. When I wake up on preschool day mornings I ask my mom, “do you know what day it is?” And then I say, “it’s PRESCHOOL day!” But if she tries to answer before I say it I make her stop because only I say that. I love preschool.

Hey! Do you want to put on my makeup? I have makeup for lips and pink cheeks, and I also have a puff. Do you have a puff? It makes sparkles. I use it every day and I am very sparkly. George is not allowed to wear makeup because he broke Mommy’s makeup and she got really mad and said he could never put on makeup anymore because he was very naughty. I am very careful with my makeup. I love sparkles.

Now I am going to do some dance moves. I am a good dancer. I really want to take ballet class, but sometimes I think that I’ll never be a ballerina and this makes me so sad that I start to cry. And then I get very, very upset and I think that I need to go to my room and be alone. And George can’t come in because only girls can come in and I want to be alone. George is not a girl, he is just one of the brothers. We had our birthday in October but we’re still twins.

Hey! Do you want to play princess bingo? First we do all of the pink and then all of the blue and then all of the yellow and then all of the green. I am always pink. My favorite colors are pink and red and white. George likes blue and Oliver likes green. But I really want the pink booster seat with the butterflies on it because it’s a girl seat and George wants a blue one. But my mom says that we don’t need new booster seats. But I really want it. And then I get mad and I say, “mom – you are making me mad!” And then I stamp up to my room and slam the door and I say that I want to be ALONE. And sometimes I cry.

I am very mad because my mommy is not listening to me. And I’ll never be a ballerina… I say that she is arguing with me and she says she is just telling me the way it is. My mommy’s name is Kate. K-k-k K starts with Kate! Just like K starts with key and king. They match.

Hey! do you want to see my dance moves. Tell me what song you want. Okay how about twinkle twinkle. Now how about jingle bells? Do you want rock star? Okay – let me put the money in the slot…there, now stop talking and watch (and NO laughing):

So WHAT – I’m still a rock star
I got my rock moves and I don’t need you
And guess WHAT – I’m having more fun
And now that we’re done and gonna show you
TONIGHT
I’m ALRIGHT
I’m just FINE
And you’re a tool – so
So WHAT – I’m having more fun…

[ten minutes later]

Do you think Jonas likes rock star? Jonas is my friend. My friends are Lucy, Kara and Delaney. And Jonas and Matthew. Jonas is a good friend. I think he will love my new dress.

Now it’s time for the FASHION SHOW!

Do you like Barbie? My favorite book is Barbie: My Journal. Barbie’s friends are Nikki, Teresa, Summer and Raquelle. I have a Barbie game but George can’t touch it. It’s only for GIRLS. Once George was reading my Barbie book and I tried to take it back and it RIPPED. I got so mad and my mom said that that’s what happens when you grab and I got very upset because it was ALL MY FAULT! My mommy fixed it with tape because it was just a small corner. Then I told my mom that she is my special girl.

Hey! Do you want to see my pretties? I have a lot of pretties for my hair. I also have some jewelry but I don’t like to wear it today. I say I’ll wear it tomorrow. But not the bracelet. It smells like mommy’s keys. This smells like gold. I don’t like the smell of gold. I do like the swings at the playground, but when I get off the swings, my hands smell golden. I don’t like that.

They don’t have swings at the Y. We go to the Y so mommy can exercise. That’s spelled Y-M-C-A. That’s how you spell Y. Oliver doesn’t go to the Y with us anymore because he is in Kindergarten. He is five. He is a brother like George. My boys are Oliver and George, but Daddy and I call them the payasos.

Hey! I know what we can do! We can have a tea party. I got a tea set for my birthday in October and George got a light saber. I got a light saber too and sometimes I like to play light sabers but usually I just like to have tea parties. Those brothers are not allowed to play with my tea set. It is not for payasos. It’s very special to me. Do you want sugar? Do you want milk? Do you want cream? Do you want lemon? I’ll mix it up. You have the yellow cup because I always have the pink cup. Pink is my favorite color. P starts with pink! I am very good speller. Eleanor is spelled E-L. That means L. E does not start with Eleanor. L starts with Eleanor.

Now I have to practice my twirling for the talent show. BYE!