Sweet Little Autism Baby

One of the reasons I stopped blogging four or five years ago is because of autism. It isn’t the main reason, but it surely was a reason. I don’t really remember a lot of my blogging about 6-inch from the old days. My doctor says that stresses can change your brain and affect memories. I believe it. I can’t remember what I’ve told you about 6-inch, so I’ll tell you everything.

6-inch was diagnosed with autism when he was two, and just a couple of days after his third birthday he started at a special autism preschool here in Tucson. He went to that preschool for two years. He is now finishing up first grade in an intensive classroom at a local elementary school; he is in a class with ten other children, and nine of those ten are autistic little boys. He is at home there, and we couldn’t be happier with the school and his teachers.

Autism is a nasty, frustrating little fucker. My son is wonderful and a true gift, but the autism…..goddamn the autism all to hell. Can you tell how exasperated I am sometimes? Our lives revolve around autism; to an extent Footlong’s life is affected as well, but we try to keep his as normal as possible at all costs. 6-inch speaks and acts like a young toddler, and that is hard to deal with in public places. Grocery shopping is near impossible. Shopping trips with no clear plan for purchasing, like clothes or shoe shopping, are simply not possible. One of us has to go alone or we shop online. We can’t go out to eat. We can’t do things as a family, like bowling, movies, museums, or festivals. As we have no family out here in Arizona we have no help and no help with childcare. Date nights? They don’t happen. Our marriage has suffered a bit from lack of quality time. We have learned all we can from Preston, though, and we try and make his life as happy and comfortable as possible, with unsavory activities kept to a minimum. Yes, his name is Preston. Can’t remember if I ever told you guys that.

Our little man is precious as can be. He loves tablets/phones, and the cute little videos he watches help teach him new words and phrases. I know how some parents feel about screen time, but here it is a necessity. He loves watching alphabet and color videos, foreign Happy Meal commercials (yay for YouTube!), and cartoon videos with catchy music that he can dance and jump too. He loves, loves, LOVES hugs, snuggles, kisses, and being tickled. He laughs a lot, and he acts just like he is one of us, with not a problem in the world. It is a bit of a disconnect for those unfamiliar with Preston to see a 50 pound boy and hear garbled baby talk when he runs over to say hi. Oh, the looks we get. His speech is slow and deliberate, and he sounds like a precious toddler. He can ask for purple chips (salt and vinegar chips that come in a purple bag), Fritos, pink or blue square cookies (blueberry or cherry frosted PopTarts), chicken nuggets, milkshakes, drinks, and peanut butter cookies. He can ask for the phone, tablet, or TV program that he wants. He can ask for tickles, hugs, kisses, a bath, to go to bed, and to be cleaned up (he still poops in Pull-Ups). He will also occasionally ask us to do stuff like go jumping at the trampoline park, go to the playground, or go to Target and get a toy. He really doesn’t understand feelings and emotions, but he can successfully tell me he is hungry or hurt. That’s a start.

For all the positives though there are ten times more negatives. I have never had a conversation with my son. He has never, ever been able to tell me how he feels or how his day was. He’s never told me a story, sang a song, let me read a book to him (he hates being read to), or pretended to care for an animal/baby doll. He doesn’t understand people’s feelings. I’ve never seen him play pretend. He’s never played with other kids, like taking turns or playing a game. He doesn’t even talk to kids. He knows when we get mad he needs to say “sorry” but that is it.  Autism dictates family outings. It dictates plans and travel. It has, at times, cost us our sanity. The last four years of my life have been difficult and isolating. I stayed home with the kids while John worked full-time, usually around 50 hours a week. I had no help with the kids, and no friends here in Tucson other than those on Facebook. I crawled into a shell without meaning to. I’m still the same me for the most part, but I’m not as outgoing. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to be around people and socialize. I have gone as long as three weeks without leaving the house. I have beaten myself up a million different ways, wondering if I did this to Preston and chastising myself for not being a better mother. You just have no idea. I’ve given my kids everything. Last March I was at the end of my rope and had to get a part-time job. I got a job as a carhop at a local drive-in that opened about a mile from my house. Three or four nights a week, after John gets home to take over with the kids, I get to escape to work where I can socialize, be around people, and earn some fun money. I’ve never known work as an adult that is pleasant and fun; nursing sure as shit wasn’t pleasant or fun. This is the kind of job that I can leave completely when I clock out and not take it home with me. I don’t need the stress. It’s stressful when we’re busy, of course, but it’s not the same as being responsible for someone’s life.

In the past we have received services through the state, but I stopped out of frustration two years ago. We were denied respite care and other stuff, and I lost it. I just lost it. Preston doesn’t qualify for any financial assistance based on our income, so we have a little mountain of bills that we’re paying on. We no longer do supplemental therapies several times a week (so expensive), but he gets therapies at school. Preston’s teacher is urging me to reapply for services with the state, but I’m hesitant. I feel like we’re just fucking ignored and don’t get anything for the hassle because of John’s terrific job. I know that he will need those services in place as he gets older though so I should suck it up and do it.

Garrett (yes, Footlong has a real name too. As he is going through puberty I don’t think his nickname is appropriate…LOL) asked me one time if I regretted having Preston. It was an honest question, and I answered honestly. NO. No, I don’t regret having Preston. I’ll tell you what Preston is. Preston is the greatest gift from the universe to remind me that I have no control over anything and to stop and enjoy every little minute of anything that makes me happy. When I got pregnant with Garrett I was a cocky little bitch. The pregnancy was planned, things were carefully bought, I knew from the get-go that he was a boy, and all went to plan. For 5 years I got to be the mom I always wanted to be. And then there was Preston. To start, Preston wasn’t planned; he was more of an incredulous surprise. I thought he was a girl; he wasn’t. I had a rough pregnancy full of contractions and high blood pressure and was on bedrest after 30 weeks. With Garrett I had your classic vaginal delivery; Preston was a C-section for failure to progress. Garrett drank milk and then formula well; Preston kept having all sorts of digestive problems and didn’t grow so well at one time. Garrett met or exceeded all developmental milestones; Preston achieved physical milestones (rolling over, crawling, walking, losing teeth, grabbing things) but not developmental ones (clapping hands, talking, sharing, pretending, self-care, etc.). Every single day with him is an adventure. Will there be full-body tantrums with head banging because he doesn’t want to go somewhere? Will he eat more than potato chips and pop-tarts today? Will he follow any directions? How long will it take to get him dressed? Can we go to the grocery store, or should I just ask John to stop on the way home? Will he socialize, or will he want to be alone with the tablet off in Prestonland?

I can’t wait for the day when I can sit down and have a real question-and-answers conversation with my son. I can’t wait to hear all of the things he likes and how they make him feel. I want to know what things make him sad and scare him. I want to know what he want to be when he grows up. I want to be able to leave the house. I want to be able to be “normal” or as normal as we can be. I want to go out dinner, sit in a booth with my family, and have a meal. There are so many things I can’t wait for. And there are things I’m scared of too, like what life will be like for Preston as he gets older. Will he be able to hold down a job? Will he able to speak, read, and write well? Will he fall in love? Will someone accept him for who he is and want to be with him? Will he ever have kids? Will he be living with me and John for the rest of our lives? How will Garrett live his life? He has already told me he feels an obligation toward his brother. Some days it’s all so fucking much. I am so grateful, though. Nothing on earth is better than when this happy little boy tells me “I ya yoo” and gives me “huggies” and “mops.” Mops are what he calls kisses because of the sound they make. How fucking precious is that? Do y’all remember Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg singing “Dick in a Box” on Saturday Night Live? “It’s my dick in a box!” We changed up the lyrics here in our house, and I’ve been known to sing, “It’s my huggies and mops! Yeah, my huggies and mops, girl. It’s my huggies and mops!” You find the laughs where you can!

 

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An Eon

I haven’t blogged in over three years. I haven’t blogged regularly in closer to five years. So much has changed, and I find myself more than ever just wanting to put my thoughts out into the universe. I don’t know if other people still read here. I just need to type.

In case anyone is actually reading this and remembers me, I guess an update is in order.

My two boys, Footlong and Six-Inch, are now 12 and 6 respectively. Footlong is brilliant and reminds me of those old snarky “MockMama” posts I used to write where I told stories of him building a radio out of a Hot Wheels car and a banana. He is finishing up the sixth grade, and for two of the last three years he has won grand prize in the school science and engineering fair. He spells only average though so we haven’t taken him to Hawaii yet. LOL. (Yes, I still read MckFacts.) He plays viola in the orchestra, is the best player in the chess club, and spends all his extra time playing with various Rubiks cubes and watching cubing videos on YouTube. He is just over five feet tall and weighs just 20 pounds less than me. He also wears glasses now and looks so handsome. Six-Inch is finishing up the first grade, and he has autism. He speaks like an eighteen month-old toddler and gets both speech and occupational therapies at his special school. He has sensory issues (he hates wearing clothes and runs around the house in Pull-Ups) and difficulty eating (as in he only eats Pop Tarts, chips, chicken nuggets, and milk). He is sweet as can be, and he is literally everything I never knew I always wanted. I am so proud of him every single day.

As for me? Well, I’ve been through more changes than everyone. For starters, I’m skinny now. It’s weird. I had my gastric bypass surgery almost six years ago, and I’ve gone from roughly 300 lbs to 140 lbs soaking wet (and that is with a ton of loose skin still attached). I’m a size 6/8. The last couple of years have been…..interesting. I literally don’t recognize myself anymore. Most of my life I was fat and now I’m not. I always had a really red face, which I chalked up to rosacea, but as it turns out I’m sensitive to wheat. I cut it out of my diet and have nice coloring now. I literally look in the mirror some days and don’t recognize myself. I haven’t had any major health complications until recently when I was hospitalized for stomach pain and severe anemia. I was found to have an ulcer at the gastric bypass anastamosis site and had also developed pernicious anemia (not enough vitamin B12). Other than that I’ve been ok.

My husband J is doing well and is still working the same job. He is an electrical engineer and so smart that I can’t stand it. And speaking of jobs, I work part-time now. I had to get out of the house and people some. Six-Inch doesn’t tolerate public places very much so the last five years of my life have been very isolating. I’m a server at a local drive-in, and I love having a job with zero stress that provides us with some fun money. It keeps me sane.

Oh, yeah. Here are some pictures.

 

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Total Randomness

Have you ever had one of those days where you think about or do random shit?

 

The other day I bought some eye cream because I am starting to get just a few wrinkles. I’m only 36 and am not ready for wrinkles. (Cue your “Snort is so conceited!” thoughts.) I also bought a moisturizer from the same brand. For the last two days I have been using the eye cream twice a day and following it up with the facial moisturizer. I was having to use four pumps of moisturizer to get all of my face and neck, and that seems excessive. It seems that my stupid ass bought a small container of eye cream and the extra-large-with-a-pump container of the same eye cream.

 

I loaded up the washing machine with detergent, fabric softener, and bleach the other day to wash some towels. Imagine my surprise when I came back an hour and a half later and found the washing machine smelling fresh and clean and the heap of dirty towels still on the floor. Yep. I forgot to actually add the laundry.

 

The same goes for my coffee this morning. I brewed an excellent pot of hot water, added my Coffee Mate, and promptly choked.

 

I went grocery shopping Saturday afternoon. Something just didn’t feel right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was definitely odd. I did my mental checklist:  debit card? Check. Children? At home with J. Gas in the car? Check. ID and insurance? Check. Wearing shoes? Check. Brushed teeth? Check. Hair not sticking out in all directions? Check. I finally figured it out AFTER I spent an hour at the grocery store and 30 minutes at the farmers market:  I was not wearing a bra and likely jiggled and pointed during my entire excursion.

 

6-inch has fallen in love with orange Tic-Tacs.

 

Footlong asked me to buy him a can of baby corn at the store. He said he wanted to try it. It didn’t go over very well.

 

My best friends and I have decided to leave our Christmas trees up year round but to decorate for all of the major holidays. Our Valentine tree is up, and it looks like Cupid barfed everywhere. I’ve got decorations on stand-by for St. Patrick’s Day, Easter/Springtime, and for the fall. I am anxiously waiting for the summer patriotic stuff to arrive at Dollar Tree so I can get my tree decorated for the summer.

 

I was dressing 6-inch for preschool yesterday, and while putting on his jeans I had this thought:  why in the fuck to baby/toddler jeans have pockets? What is he supposed to put in there? His baby wallet? His keys to his battery-operated Ford truck? His baby phone?

 

I am convinced that the more you make your life look like a unicorn fart and the more you praise your spouse on Facebook that it directly correlates with how unhappy you are. Let it all hang out, people. Good and bad. That is life.

A Year In Review

For Julie. xoxo

Hello everyone! I realize that I never went back and posted pictures in September as I promised, and that was very MckMama of me. LOL. I haven’t blogged much in the past year, and as most of you know I cannot post at MckFacts; I have made so many friends near and far that I figured a synopsis of my year would be an appropriate way to tell all of you hello and what has been going on here in my neck of the desert. Hence, here are the updates in the Year of [SNORT]:

How am I? I’m fine, and thank you for asking. I’m not going to gloss over things and make you think that this whole year has been a shiny, unicorn glitter fart. It hasn’t. There have been some rough patches, particularly with my depression and anxiety. This year has ultimately been a journey of painful self-examination, guilt, remorse, healing, and self-improvement. I spent a week in an inpatient facility to get a grasp on things.Under the care of my psychiatrist and doctor I have been weaning off my anxiety medication and have had my depression medication adjusted. I’m not having any alcohol. In addition to my mental health team, I have been talking to a counselor about some unresolved issues from my past, and I have tried accupunture, meditation, natural herbal supplements, chiropractic adjustments, and even had a colonic. I don’t know why l didn’t try Xyng and the magic juice since it cures all. As a plus my weight loss has leveled off, and having a steady weight and amount of body fat is wonderful for me hormonally…at least the doctor said so. So where am I on my journey? To refresh your memory, when I started my pre-op diet in 2012 I was 293.5 pounds, wore a 3x shirt, and size 26 pants were getting a little snug. Today I am 195-ish (it fluctuates a little) and wear an XL shirt and size 16 pants (or 18 if they are cut small). My body seems happy here. I am doing better, and it feels good to say that.

How are Footlong and 6-inch? They are awesome. Did you know that I have TWO children? I shit you not. I have birthed TWO human beings. I am way more special than y’all. Did you know that my uterus is a magical place full of Jesus Balm where little clumps of cells can grow into a human? I am so much better than everyone. Seriously…the kids are great. Footlong is now 9 years old and is a happy 3rd grader. He is scary smart and wants to design video games when he grows up. He loves to play on the computer, and he also loves to watch Forensic Files on CNN. 6-inch is a happy, squishy 3-year-old, and last month we received an official diagnosis of autism. He is still receiving speech and occupational therapies, and he goes to a special preschool four mornings a week. His developmental pediatrician says that he is high functioning and wants us to add behavioral therapy to the mix. He has a vocabulary of 50 words or so and is constantly trying to mimic our words. He knows a couple of colors and loves to play with his “shoo-shoo-trey.” Can you figure that out? It is 6-inch speak for choo-choo-train.

How is the hubster? He is good and is working hard. We celebrated our 11th anniversary in October and snuck away for a weekend at a resort here in Tucson. He has been my rock this year.

Below are some photos. I hope that you all have a very happy and healthy upcoming year. And just because I can’t comment at MckFacts doesn’t mean I don’t read there. I do. Almost every single day. A fourth foreclosure on that ugly ass, crooked, cheaply built barn? I’m not really surprised. Were you?

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John took this photo during our anniversary dinner in October.

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Brotherly love at bedtime! 6-inch saw the flash and yelled, “CHEESE!”

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A selfie. From the airport bar as I chugged vodka and heavy cream while plotting how to share the gift of health with people without selling it for profit. Yeah…ask me next year how thats going.

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Sorry. I couldn’t resist.

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Footlong’s school picture. So handsome!

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My handsome husband as we lunched at Macaroni Grill.

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Posing with my not-so-little boy before we went to his school musical. He played a snowflake. This was taken three or four weeks ago.

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Duh. I got new shoes.

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These are my favorite purchase this year.

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Me and my soul sisters while we were out getting my new tattoo for my 36th birthday.

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My sweet  6-inch.

Love you all! Drop me a line if you like!!

Summer…….[SNORT] Style

Hello everyone! I appreciate those of you that commented here or sent me an e-mail asking for an update. Right now I’m on my mom’s computer and can’t upload pictures, but if you check back later today I promise there will be photos. Really. I promise. Not like a MckMama promise. You’re welcome.

 

I just have to say again that the MckFacts mods are running a great site. I read a few times a week and can’t believe Jenny isn’t wearing a XXXL orange poncho to brave the shitstorm she is in. I have made mistakes in my life, but damn; that girl just doesn’t have a fucking clue.

 

Footlong and 6-inch are doing well. 6-inch just turned three and started preschool. He meets the criteria set forth by the Arizona Early Intervention Program for free preschool and necessary therapies (speech and OT). He goes to school 4 mornings a week, and his favorite thing by far is riding the school bus. We are also noticing an increase in his vocabulary and his trying to mimic our words. Here are some words that came out of his sweet little mouth this week:  Daddy, Mama, cookie, milk, go, yay!, night-night, purple, and green. We’re ecstatic. Footlong will be 9 next month and is enjoying the third grade. He has a ton of homework every night, and I certainly don’t remember having that much homework in elementary school. Right now he is obsessed with Canada. I pick up souvenir patches from wherever I travel, and he picked out a patch of the Canadian flag and had my mom sew it onto one of his shirts. For his birthday he says he wants me to exchange some American currency for some Canadian currency. I bought a nice picture book when I drove through the Yukon Territory, and he pours over and talks about how beautiful everything is. I wish I could afford to take him on vacation!!

 

My mom and dad have begun to take baby steps in moving out here. I’ve had some health problems for awhile so my mom moved out here and in with us. While she looks for work Dad will be fixing their house up and putting it on the market. I’ve openly talked here about my struggles with mental illness and past use of drugs. My depression and anxiety are under better control. I’m currently on Paxil, vitamins, Seroquel (at bedtime for sleep), Prazosin (a BP medication that works to prevent nightmares and night terrors in those with severe depression and PTSD), Phenergan (as needed for nausea), and Ativan (as needed for anxiety). I’m not going to hide or gloss over things, but my anxiety was so bad for the past year that I started drinking to feel calmer. Poor choice, I know, but least there was no drunken karaoke. I’ve been dry and sober since March and have added complementary therapies to help me heal all around. In addition to my psychiatrist I am now having talk therapy with a counselor, accupucture twice a week, and chiropractic adjustments twice a week. I am feeling like my old self. I’m sharing this because I know that some of you may be depressed, anxious, or self-medicating with alcohol and pills. You’re not alone. If you want to chat privately you can email me at thesnortfiles@gmail.com.

I’ll try and get some photos on here later. I hope everyone is well, and I miss my MWOP gals. xoxo

 

 

 

Greetings And Salutations!

I have let this blog fall by the wayside, and I must admit that I haven’t missed it all that much. I did, however, get a sweet email this morning from someone asking for an update. As 6-inch is currently occupied with a cartoon I figured what the hell….let’s update The Snort Files.

 

Firstly, I miss so many of you! The owners of the new MckFacts site are doing a great job, but I have been blocked from commenting. I don’t know why, and it really doesn’t matter. I know that my blunt honesty and previous problems have made me a pariah of sorts. I read MckFacts once a week or so to see what is going on with everyone’s favorite train wreck, but I don’t read the comments. I absolutely LOVED the side-by-side photos of her before and “after” weight loss while she was in a bathing suit on the cruise. Pure gold! And the new lawsuits…hello?!? How much fucking money can this woman piss away? I read on the news today that Vibram (the makers of those ugly ass finger shoes she wears) is being sued for making false claims. I bet JM will elbow her way to the front of the line for a financial settlement because, hey, that woman can smell money like a pig can smell truffles.

 

How are Footlong and 6-inch? They are doing well and growing like weeds! Footlong finishes 2nd grade next week, and I’m a little sad. He is getting kind of tall and gangly and reminds me of a little colt who is all legs. 6-inch will be three this summer, and right now we are busy with occupational therapy (twice a week), developmental therapy (once a week), and feeding therapy (once a week). He is eligible for the state-sponsored early intervention preschool when he turns three, and the great this is that he will receive his therapies for FREE at school. That will save us a few hundred dollars a month in insurance co-pays. He can say “go,” “outside,” “catch,” and “Hi!” He mimics alot of our actions, like dancing or making funny faces. He loves to scribble, watch episodes of “Peppa Pig”, and play with toys.

 

Mr. Snort is doing well and is busy with work. Don’t know if I ever mentioned to y’all what kind of work he does, but he is an electrical engineer. He works at a company that designs electrical components and batteries for airplanes. He comes home and takes over with the kids, doing baths and homework with Footlong. After being with the kids and cleaning and cooking I appreciate the break. We have an extra bedroom here that I have turned into my “Chic Cave.” The room holds a few pieces of extra furniture and our extra TV, but it is my sanctuary. John built me a bookshelf so I could have a place to hold all of my cookbooks and culinary textbooks. It is heaven to sit in there and flip through my books and watch TV. I just appreciate the alone time. As for culinary school, I have been accepted at both schools I applied to, but I have had to delay my start until Mother and Father Snort move out here. Yep, my parents are biting the bullet and moving out here. My Dad is retired, and my Mom is looking for a job. As soon as they sell their house they are Arizona bound. They will help with childcare when I start school.

 

And as for me? I really don’t know where to start. I had mentioned in the past that my anxiety and depression had been vacillating wildly, and I was having panic attacks. My psychiatrist has taken me off of my Wellbutrin and changed my Zoloft to Paxil. That has helped tremendously. I’ve also been weaning off of my Ativan, and I’ve gone from 4 tablets a day to 1 tablet every evening because that is when my anxiety settles in. My life isn’t all peaches and cream; I still have my bad days, but they, thankfully, are fewer and farther between. I have lost about 110 lbs and am now a comfortable size 16 (or 18 depending on the fit). I’m friends with alot of MWOPers on FB, and I know they’ve seen photos of me, but I’ll post some below along with some photos of the kids.

 

I wrote something here but have deleted it. I’ve decided that for right now perhaps I should keep my mouth shut to forgo the shit storm that would likely be coming my way.

 

I really miss you guys. Drop me a line here and tell me how you are!

 

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Me and 6-inch out shopping on Wednesday. There were heavy winds and dust storms, so please excuse my hair.

 

 

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This is what I looked like before the wind got to me.

 

 

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Size 16 jeans! (And yes….I am wearing heels. And yes….I am without makeup.)

 

 

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How my toddler watches TV.

 

 

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Me and Footlong last month.

 

 

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6-inch after his big boy haircut.

 

 

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Footlong showing off his haircut.

 

 

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Yogurt! Nom-Nom-Nom!!!

 

 

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Mid-Tantrum.

 

 

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We went to the Pima County Fair two weeks ago, and the Arizona sun made me it’s bitch.

 

 

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Sharing a candy apple on the way home from the fair.

 

And that about does it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy New Year And All That Jazz

I am surprised yet not surprised that I haven’t blogged for so long. Too many things have been going on in the House of Snort. Let’s play catch-up:

  • Since late October Mr. Snort has been working 6 days a week, and I have been feeling the frustration at home. I clean the home in the mornings only to have it look like Hurricane 6-inch (a category 3 minimum) whipped through the house spilling beverages, throwing toys, and taking everything atop a table and swooping it to the floor.
  • My Footlong has lost both of this top teeth, and I think he looks like a little bat. It is sooooooooooooo cute!
  • We have found a delightful babysitter that loves both boys and is able to easily handle 6-inch and his communication/behavioral difficulties. She is wonderful. John and I have been on two dates!
  • I recently spent five days in the hospital (including Christmas) for a wicked stomach bug and was so severely dehydrated I was barely conscious. I kept the hubby and kids away from the hospital, and no one else got sick. I wanted to post some photos of my kids on Christmas, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t there to see Christmas morning in person, and I’m having to rely second-hand on photos and videos. That breaks my heart.
  • I’m not sure exactly what I’ve been accused of at MWOP (like I care), but I don’t and have never Tweeted, Instagrammed, contacted Mck other than to play my Golden Ticket, do not own another blog, and do not comment under other names. There. Just wanted all of that said.
  • Todays forecast is for sunshine with a high of 71 and low of 37.
  • I was accepted to culinary school and was supposed to be started in two weeks. I have had to put it on hold indefinitely as the state now wants to test 6-inch for autism. He currently receives Speech Therapy, and we are now adding Occupational Therapy, Sensory Therapy, and Feeding Therapy into the mix. There is also talk of a brain MRI just to make 100% sure that his little noggin is ok. I feel overwhelmed. And hopeful. And sad, like there is something I did to my baby in utero. He is 2 1/2  and can speak 2 words, and his non-verbal communication skills have improved ten-fold. He can follow simple commands and loves to play silly games that I make up on the spot. Sweet, sweet, baby.
  • I saw my bariatric surgeon before the holidays, and he said that he was not surprised my weight loss had slowed to a crawl given the psychotrophic medications I was on. We are thinking of perhaps weaning off drugs to see if it helps weight loss. He says patients on a ton of antidepressants and anxiety stuff hold onto fat for dear life. I’m blessed to be healthier and much happier, but oh how wonderful it would be let go of some more (literal) baggage.
  • And that’s all for me. How are you doing?