Lisa and boys
I haven't posted here in ages, so sorry to have disappeared....LIFE has been a bit crazy :) But there have been lots of great things happening, one especially for me (and my boys) Last month I got engaged to the love of my life , the boys dad Glenn :) and we have been busy busy busy, planning a wedding for Aprhl 21st... only 2 months :) So if you think of us, please keep us all in your thoughts and prayers as we begin this beautiful journey together! Oh ya, and here's my ring :)
Much Love,
Lisa and boys
Lisa and boys
There is little that brings joy to the significantly pregnant. Except maybe food. This story is no different.
There once was a little gluten free girl (you know, kinda like the one with the little curl right in the middle of her forehead). One day, she could only be pleased with a never-ending supply of Lara bars (and those damn things are expensive). In a fit of rage (from who, I won't say), she and her swollen mama grabbed the first two gluten free things they could find: corn chex and peanut butter.
This automatically brought great rejuvenation to the mama and golden silence to the kid.
I highly recommend it.
The end.
You might think of me as an Elf-on-the-Shelf, cookie bakin', Bing Crosby playin', cheese ball makin' mother. And that's ok. I can see where it might be confusing. In all honesty, getting this picture taken required an act of God.
Reality at my house: The top half of the tree is decorated. Only the top half. Pumpkins are still on the porch (nothing says 'Feliz Navidad' quite like a few rotting gourds). The elf, which should now be on the shelf, is somewhere in the attic, probably getting shit on by mice at this very moment. And, my Christmas cards are duct taped to the wall (we don't fool around in this house).
So while in Bedford Falls, it might be A Wonderful Life, at the Engler household, it's more like Fear Factor.
Merry Christmas, anyway!
For those of you who might not be aware, autism is the gift that keeps on givin' the whole year. Ya know, kinda like the Jelly of the Month Club, except the jelly only comes EVERY 30 DAYS OR SO.
May your Christmas be filled with stool collections and DMPS suppositories.
Today would have been my oldest son Keanes 9th birthday, seems almost impossible to beleive that its been 9 years since he was born. Such a miracle to experience his short lived life, I can hardly believe I can now live day to day with out falling into pieces like I did for the first few years. Don't get me wrong, there are still moments of everyday that I think of him, and days where it just hits me hard that he is not here with me.... I can truly say that with time God has helped me learn to live with the constant grief I feel, living without my first born son here on earth.
November 9th, 2002 my first born son Keane Michael was born into this world at 19 1/2 weeks gestation, to small for this world to live here (to read the whole story about his life see my blog post from last year http://myboysmygreatestgiftsinlife.blogspot.com/2009/11/he-would-have-been-7-today.html). His short lived life has changed my life dramatically, and I have learned the lesson of what is important in this world. He was born at 6:12 in the evening weighing 8oz and very much alive :) ! They had told me over and over again for three days ( I went into the ER on November 6th) that he would not be born alive, that the meds they gave me were potent and that he could not survive it...But he did :) The Lord blessed us with the 6 hours he was here on earth.
Today, is a bitter sweet day for me, I'm grateful for the hours I had with my son, but sad that he was taken from us so quickly. I still long to know what his voice sounds like, I still wonder if he still would look exactly like his older brother, I still wonder what his favorite character would have been, would have been been a Thomas crazy boy like Gabriel? Or would he have loved dinasours like Matthias? Would he have been a great singer/sports player?
So many unanswered questions when you have to bury your child after birth. Even as I type this it still makes no sense to me as to why my son was taken to heaven so early. But the only hope I have is knowing that one day I will see him again, and all those questions will be answered for me.
I miss you terribly Keane Michael, you are loved and missed everyday by your family. Your short life has touched so many, and I will forever be grateful for the gift that the Lord gave me with you!
We miss you
HAPPY BIRTHDAY WITH THE ANGELS MY LOVE!
LOVE MOMMY
If I was a horse, someone would've already put me out of my misery. My health is horrible and just getting worse, my kid is sick, etc., etc. I have a lot of tolerance for people's complaints and enjoy back and forth pity-party commentary except when it involves repeated excuses for your child.
I have a lot of cop-outs for myself, but I have nay a word to say about why I *can't* do for my son, because all that is is just cringeworthy.
It happens occasionally when I talk to an autism mom. I go over my mental powerpoints of suggestion, only to be met with melancholy excuses about how the diet is 'too hard' or how their child 'won't take medicine' or how they're 'afraid to give their kid a B12 shot'. Because honestly, in 15 years, when their child is a 200 pound, 6 foot tall man who's still throwing tantrums in Target, they might just wish they'd done more when he was young.
Now I know that some kids don't get better with biomed. I know of people who have tried it ALL and nothing has helped. But, at the end of the day, those parents can rest easy in the fact that they did all they could to help their child.
No excuses. No more regrets. Do what you can to treat your child's autism.
The End.
There's nothing quite like finding a black widow spider nestled next to your garbanzo beans. This occurrence sent me into a crazed OCD cleaning fit. I drifted off into the pantry, armed with a vacuum cleaner and cheap ass paper towel. I spent much too long moving packages like I was waiting for a ninja to jump out. Luckily, no ninjas--or black widows--made their appearance.
Continuing my quest for black widow spiders (I was itching at this point, kinda like you do after you hear someone has lice), I moved on to the kitchen corners. Somewhere along the way--I'm not sure where--I forgot my pinto beans on the stove. My pot boileth over. (Off topic: we really like beans in this house, which might explain our lack of visitors).
I said all that to say all this. I am easily distracted. Today's initial plan: work from home. Today's actual accomplishment: the smell of burnt beans permeating throughout my kitchen.
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Trader Joe's Inside Out Carrot Cake Cookies aren't as good if you nearly choke to death on them.
Death by pussy willow AND gluten-laced cookie. Bummer.
I barrelled through road construction on the off ramp of my exit the other night. I seemed to be going at an excessive rate of speed, but if any cops are reading this, I'm fairly certain it wasn't over the speed limit.
It all happened so fast; a drop in pavement, a couple stray traffic cones, that 'unfinished' blacktop sound. All I know is that it was very similar to John Candy's situation in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, except I wasn't going the wrong way. I squeezed through those make-shift guardrails with juuuuuust enough room to not justify calling an ambulance. It was practically over before it even begun.
Nothing was damaged. Nothing but my nerves. I said all that to say all this: speed limits are important (IF you're speeding, that is).
Illinois birds are crazy. And I don't mean the canaries. The blackbirds are like lot lizards of I-57, waiting until they see my car approaching, fully prepared to jump out in front of it. On purpose, of course. They're like little kamikaze pilots.
Fortunately, no birds--canary or otherwise--were harmed on my trip to Chicago. That's a win-win for all involved parties.
Shall keep me from the Autism One conference this weekend. If I had to ride my friend's parents Vespa (with matching helmet, of course), I would be there.
I hear this is the Superbowl of autism. Moms and Dads alike travel for miles to learn the latest on autism treatment, get their drink on, and sleep through the night.
I'm keeping my pinny, frozen dinners, and elastic waistband shorts at home. This housewhore is breaking out.
I've come to accept that I will probably die in some kind of embarrassing or highly unlikely situation. Pot smoking college students will watch its re-enactment on 1000 Ways to Die. All will conclude that only an idiot could have accomplished such a feat.
This realization was brought to my attention when I had an unfortunate incident with my underwire bra. It almost killed me. I'll leave the specifics to your own imagination.
Well, yesterday, I was on the back porch with Ayla. She was shaking a decorative ceramic holder which happened to have pussy willows in it. I knew her next step would be to pull them out and make a gigantic mess. I intervened, removing the pussy willows quickly. Amazingly--and I don't know how--a pussy willow smacked me across the face so hard it brought me to tears.
And if a pussy willow is capable of doing that, I'm sure it could leash a whole lot of whoop ass on an unlikely victim.
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