tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23162154647072620762012-01-21T12:40:13.040-06:00A Tale of Self and FamilyMollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.comBlogger3101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-64658064881387102512012-01-19T20:49:00.002-06:002012-01-19T21:14:43.323-06:00

Tonight, I declare war. Rarely do I take on the mantra of "warrior mama;" I'm a pacifist by nature. I don't like conflict, or anger, or drama. But sometimes, one has to don the armor, pick up the sword, and go to effin' town. A terrifying article came out today, discussing the new autism criteria for the DSM. In it was the following blurb:The changes would narrow the diagnosis so much that it

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-50887120251294890052012-01-14T16:35:00.002-06:002012-01-14T16:40:14.799-06:00

After a week of rain, sunshine is an amazing thing. It's changed my entire perspective. Today was wonderful. Spent the morning with a student and her family, after watching Steve teach the baby to make scrambled eggs. The baby was not as thrilled; she adores her toy eggs and cried, "Oh, no!!" after he cracked each one. But she got over it. I think it was the sunshine. Then went to get groceries.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-60479064745868520732012-01-08T11:48:00.002-06:002012-01-08T11:55:09.423-06:00

I've been thinking quite a bit about the obligatory 2012 post that it feels like all bloggers have to make. I'm no exception, obviously. I love new years; I love the promise that they bring, and the feeling that - in the paraphrased words of Anne of Green Gables - life is again fresh and new, with no mistakes. You know, until noon or so on the first day. 2011 was a good year for me. That doesn't

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-18423087737410636702011-12-24T07:02:00.003-06:002011-12-24T07:22:39.108-06:00

Last night, after a fun Christmas gathering with friends that involved explosives (you read that right - it was a literal blast), I lay snuggling with a little boy who had finally fallen asleep after a post-party tantrum.Too much fun was had, and sensory processing doesn't work so well after 6 PM in our house.I thought about Christmas Eve, and Christmas, and all the things that it meant. I

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-39075666482926161102011-12-16T19:11:00.003-06:002011-12-16T19:15:00.790-06:00

This was on another blog today (NieNie, if you must know) and it was such a fabulous quote, I decided to steal it and share. You're welcome. "Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-23557433116126172832011-12-16T05:21:00.003-06:002011-12-16T05:28:16.706-06:00

I've never seen the ocean when I've not been moved by its majesty and beauty. Its repetitive sound has never become monotonous; rather, it is soothing and special. The ocean is constant, but it isn't. It's mundane, but it's fascinating. Such is our life lately. It's not that there isn't anything to write about; instead, life moves forward at a smooth and steady clip. There is a regular ebb and

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-15449518949190591232011-11-16T19:45:00.002-06:002011-11-16T19:58:07.715-06:00

Dear Friend:I can't tell you how great it was to talk to you this morning. I wish that we'd been talking about holiday recipes and bragging on our kids, but hey - if autism gets us together, so be it. I'll take it. I wish I could convey to you the place where I stand today. I stood where you are now nearly 18 months ago, and the view from here is much nicer. It's taken a lot of work, anxiety,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-12040838589170495912011-11-09T18:02:00.002-06:002011-11-09T18:13:12.480-06:00

I have loathed Christmas for the last six years. Not what it represents in the big scheme of things, per se - but I loathed what it represented to me. In my sphere. What it reminded me that I had lost. My father died on December 27th, 2005. I loved my Daddy; he wasn't perfect, but he was pretty dang great. I don't care if you're 6 or 67, when a parent dies, you feel lost. Orphaned, even. So, long

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-53807879208109568412011-11-01T20:32:00.002-05:002011-11-01T20:47:00.813-05:00

Sunday, I pulled out the Dyson to vacuum up the never-ending trail of crumbs in the living room.You have to understand, the Dyson is a celebrity to my children. O loves to extend the wand as far as possible and stare down its barrel, not unlike some pre-meltdown Tiger Woods plotting his next birdie. MB comes up and pats it, speaking to it in her own language. Ooooooooh. Wooo! Wow!! Wowowowowowow!

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-31227893406613395062011-10-20T05:08:00.003-05:002011-10-20T06:09:56.175-05:00

It's been one of those nights when I can't sleep. They're pretty rare, what with working full time and raising two small children; most nights, my mind is asleep far before my body actually makes contact with the bed. But this evening, I slept for two hours, and woke up. I tossed, and turned, and tossed some more, and then came to the computer to do lesson plans. Not two minutes passed before I

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-19093683258393429062011-10-06T05:48:00.004-05:002011-10-06T06:10:47.960-05:00

Steve Jobs died last night. And this morning, a huge chunk of the autism community (and the world, really) is in mourning. Serious mourning. Here's the deal: I'm not an Apple-phile. I don't get into the whole Apple vs. PC debate. But in 2010, I started reading about the iPad. I saw some videos of children on the spectrum using them, and I read some articles. And after an LSU win (thanks, Les

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-57510131725035707042011-09-20T20:17:00.007-05:002011-09-20T20:54:48.037-05:00

Disclaimer: Before I go any further, I'd like to say that I am fully cognizant of how lucky we are. I know that so many others don't hang out in the shallow end of the autism pool, and that they're literally drowning under the strain and responsibility that comes from having a child struggle so much. I'm not drawing comparisons between who has things worse, or better. We're all in the same pool;

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-4311278025169942222011-09-10T12:05:00.003-05:002011-09-10T12:29:39.715-05:00

The Boeing Dreamlifter has been a somewhat omnipresent element of my life lately. I see it on the way to work, I see it at lunch, I see it on the way home.The first time I saw it, I nearly wrecked the car.Let me backtrack a bit - if you know me, you know that I adore planes. I adore them, and I can tell you about the variations of each of them. I have a particular jones for the commercial variety

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-32321495968970795752011-09-04T07:57:00.007-05:002011-09-04T08:25:59.717-05:00

When the weather is bad (oh, hey, Tropical Storm Lee!), or when times are stressful (oh, hey, last 24-36 hours!), I am typically overcome by a massive urge to create in the kitchen. (Before I delve too far into this, let me preface the entire blog post by saying the following: I am not a good cook. Now, if you want sweets, I am your girl; I remember making lemon loves out of the Cotton Country

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-43944939193891303432011-09-02T18:04:00.006-05:002011-09-02T22:54:00.610-05:00

I took a job recently. More on that shortly, but first - let me explain events leading up to The Job. MB wasn't talking. She'd just started walking at 17 months. Steve and I had said multiple times that she needed day care; her peer model, well...he's just not really up to snuff in the developmental milestone department. Though in the splinter skills department, he'll blow you away. Hence, MB

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-33049620814614805172011-08-18T19:05:00.005-05:002011-08-18T20:11:13.389-05:00

The worst dreams are the ones where he's lost. He had walked though a glass door into a building. We waved on the other side, but it was crowded. We thought that he took a person's hand, so we turned and walked on our way. I don't know what we went to do, but we were exploring things in the late afternoon sun. I remember that the sun glinted on the brass fixtures on the door. Later, something

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-72785327175200914182011-08-05T22:04:00.004-05:002011-08-05T22:16:18.770-05:00

Dear Blog:I watched the days tick by with shame; it's been over a month since I wrote. It's really nothing personal - O has been out of school, MB is walking now, I've been working on something new that takes a lot of time. We've been traveling, and hanging out with friends, and getting our cars broken into, and dealing with trees that are hit by lightening 10 feet from our front door. You know.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-27362656249550276752011-06-27T22:26:00.003-05:002011-06-27T22:50:54.852-05:00

All little ones are obsessed with something or another. MB, for example, is obsessed with shoes; whether they are Daddy's shoes, my shoes, O's shoes, or her own, she will bring them to you and grunt whilst holding up a chubby little foot. Hook a sister up, she says. Today, she wore a pair of her brother's shoes on top of hers. That's love. O, on the other hand, has many obsessions; it's part of

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-2725560585606210802011-06-15T22:14:00.002-05:002011-06-15T22:42:45.701-05:00

One year ago, we were sitting in a speech pathologist's office as she told us our son most likely had autism, and then proceeded to list all the things that he wouldn't do. The air was sucked out of my lungs. As we left, I called the doctor she said to NOT call, because we detested her that much. I then freaked out in a McDonald's parking lot, shredding an entire box of McNuggets (box and all)

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-35743321958240037492011-06-10T09:00:00.002-05:002011-06-10T09:05:15.808-05:00

Yeah, I doubled up. Deal. Day 3 is a family member. I am grateful for my husband and my two children, but I am especially grateful for my son. Ollie brings with him a special set of challenges, but also a special set of talents. From his presence comes blessings. He teaches me patience, kindness, joy, selflessness, and because of him I have learned to rely on others who support him and us at the

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-20639388828082207162011-06-08T08:16:00.003-05:002011-06-08T08:19:07.487-05:00

Governing principles. Whaaat? Politically, I'm a pretty active person, especially when it comes to advocating for autism. But I was curious what this meant. Forefathers? Powdered wigs? The bungling of the Ride of Paul Revere?So here's what I came up with - I'm grateful to live in a country where I can vocally (loudly at times) disagree with the powers that be and still be alive and free. In many

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-43760275302426837812011-06-07T05:39:00.003-05:002011-06-07T05:46:10.080-05:00

This apparently is supposed to be done in November, but I wanted to do it now. I was reading some blogs that I stalk, full of family vacations, concerts, trips, etc., and I wanted to focus on the beauty of life - my life - and pay tribute to it accordingly. If you want to take part in this, or are curious, check out http://www.30daysofgratitude.org/ . Day 1 - Where You LiveI'm grateful for our

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-15825021114083520562011-06-04T18:04:00.004-05:002011-06-05T22:33:32.114-05:00

This week, after my grandfather's funeral, we headed down to Florida. Steve's parents recently purchased a house on the bay, and I hadn't been to the Florida beach in years. I was eager to see how the beach was compared with how I remembered it. ***Every year, without fail, we packed ourselves into a large vehicle and drove the seven hours to Florida for the Louisiana Bar Convention. Well, Daddy

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-52841493690835015152011-05-27T09:43:00.004-05:002011-05-27T09:56:02.310-05:00

When you have a special needs kid, it's easy to get stuck on what they can't do. Your fears of what they might not do. But let me tell you, those fears and concerns become miniscule in the moments when you see what they can do. ***Yesterday was my baby boy's preschool program. I know, they happen every day, but this was special. We had the Flip set up to record; we had snacks to occupy the baby.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-91095038555104525302011-05-19T22:04:00.003-05:002011-05-19T22:54:08.939-05:00

Send in your skeletonsSing as their bones go marching in...again. The need you buried deepThe secrets that you keep are at the readyAre you ready?***There's been so much busyness and so much stress around here lately that writing has taken a backseat. I lost my voice (writers, you know what I'm talking about) and nothing moved me to sit down, wiggle my fingers, and start pressing on the keyboard.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-75135848865084006362011-05-07T23:03:00.002-05:002011-05-07T23:39:44.357-05:00

(The O man at birth. He was rethinking the bonus he took from God to have me as a mother. Particularly that it wasn't big enough.)There was a long while that I wasn't sure I'd be a mother. While those around me seemed to be in full bloom quite easily, I had to call in the fertility equivalent of Trugreen. Ok, it wasn't that bad. But it took a long time, to my silly, impatient heart. And I wasn't

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-27175813711168652252011-05-01T18:47:00.002-05:002011-05-01T18:54:53.280-05:00

Oh, what a wild few days it's been. I could tell you a million stories, and none of them really matter. And I'm not sure they'd make sense. I am in a daze, trying to help my boy keep it together as we lay our heads down in the second new bed in four nights.And yet, I am so grateful to have beds to lay in.Last week, our state was eviscerated by tornadoes. Notice I used the plural. I stopped

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-68359450134240144942011-04-22T17:46:00.008-05:002011-04-22T19:52:12.349-05:00

(See this guy? TOTAL TOOL. Tony Horton, I have fantasized about you dropping yourself during a chin-up more times than I care to admit.)Any of us that have ever slogged our way through a gym class or an exercise video has been victimized by the following phrase:"FEEL THE BURRRRRN!!!"Usually, the person delivering the phrase is clad in spandex and informing you in the same (non-winded) breath that

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-21389634420715434622011-04-14T12:49:00.004-05:002011-04-14T18:11:29.986-05:00

(Disclaimer - I don't even *like* ice cream, but man oh man, I could go for one of those ice cream sammiches.)Ever go into an ice cream parlor? There are a multitude of flavors, toppings, and containers. You can be simple - just vanilla or chocolate, please, ma'am - or you can be Birthday Cake. Moose Tracks. Phish Food. Complicated and full of stuff that might be delicious - or a bunch of crap.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-69933072182079188492011-04-10T13:04:00.003-05:002011-04-10T14:23:04.292-05:00

New church. New people. Even new lights. All this leads to a very unhappy O. I tried to be brave and responsible. Steve had to work, so I was going alone, but my new friends promised to help. I decided this was a sign. I needed to go to church. We'd had a meltdown on the way there (passing the street that led to a park we'd been to once- once!- and sobbing as he realized we weren't going there),

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-27074335245491525022011-04-08T07:50:00.004-05:002011-04-08T07:58:59.702-05:00

(This baby goes over our house at 11 AM every day. Well, not this baby, but an older Atlas 747. It's loud. And awesome. I love planes.)Yesterday, O and I sat in the backyard. The child would live outdoors if given the option; something about the wind and the freedom is calming to him. It was a rare moment where just he and I were together, as MB was sleeping.We sat, literally, in the grass. We

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-13321548268676708352011-04-05T21:34:00.004-05:002011-04-05T21:46:51.917-05:00

I like books. Truth be told, I love books. I have a Kindle app on O's iPad, but I cannot seem to break up with physical books. I love the tangible weight of them, and the "schrick" sound their pages make as they turn. I love their smell.(My son gets his sensory-ness from me; I have a sensory memory, which I relish. I remind myself of this when he does sensory things I would not. Like lick a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-85647082258425787222011-04-01T06:12:00.005-05:002011-04-01T06:22:43.544-05:00

(Ray is my fave. Just sayin'.)So a while ago I wrote about the "princess phase" and my feelings about it, particularly regarding feminism.Payback sucks.Not long after I penned (typed?) that post, my son developed a love of "The Princess and the Frog." A massive love. Perhaps obsession (what a shock!) We watch it at LEAST once a day. O knows all the lines - though he can't say most of them - and

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-43938954471622351772011-03-30T20:31:00.003-05:002011-03-30T20:50:25.197-05:00

I am writing this letter to you in my head because I don't have time to sit and do it. My husband is trying to get our autistic son into the car; he is three, and he is screaming. He's been screaming for half an hour, partially because he's three, and partially because he has very limited communication skills.He wants something, but he can't explain what. And if he does, he still might not get it

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-20781984415969920682011-03-19T16:29:00.008-05:002011-03-19T21:30:31.333-05:00

I hate the R-Word. No, it's not "recession." But I don't like that one, either - just for the record.The other R-Word. That has to do with special needs. I see it tossed around by kids, teenagers, and adults.And it drives. me. batty.Yesterday, we were at the health department. You read that right. The health department. It was in a rough part of town, near the most delicious barbeque joint I'd

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-66953926483814757652011-03-17T07:29:00.005-05:002011-03-17T10:29:00.564-05:00

Because I still believe in an America where each person's voice matters, even in politics.Because we struggle to teach our son to have a voice at all.Because he decided not to light the White House blue for World Autism Awareness Day even though so many other landmarks will be taking part.Go read this amazing piece by Jess at Diary of a Mom and read the comments, and then leave one.Dear Mr.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-28453653307420964532011-03-08T14:24:00.003-06:002011-03-08T14:39:14.702-06:00

We move. A lot. And we're preparing to do it again. One thing that sucks about moving? Making new friends. One awesome thing about moving a lot? I have friends everywhere. Literally.I'm rewriting the Johnny Cash classic to be "I've Got Friends Everywhere." The move to Michigan was hard. I had my head in a toilet for the first 6 months. Literally. In a toilet. And when I could finally - FINALLY -

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-26559028368938770022011-03-03T18:38:00.002-06:002011-03-03T18:45:38.173-06:00

Because life isn't always easy, but it doesn't always suck, either.Because my family brings me joy.Because you care (I think you care?), I share the big events of the week.1 - O's speech therapist gave him the most amazing eval, praising him starting to play with toys properly and repeat words, and spontaneously greet others.2 - O greets others who are friends like they're a celebrity and he's a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-58839137073521530402011-03-01T22:35:00.004-06:002011-03-01T22:54:29.688-06:00

*massive spoiler alert*I adored the movie "Parenthood" in the 80s - you know, with Steve Martin and Rick Moranis. I still watch it when it's on TV. So I was thrilled when the movie got its (second!) reincarnation as a TV show.I was especially excited that Max, the son of Adam Braverman, had autism. Not excited that he had it, per se - I was excited to see what a well-written, well-executed, and

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-59747034709766578842011-02-26T06:45:00.003-06:002011-02-26T06:52:08.846-06:00

There is something I notice every year when spring or fall is truly coming - the light is changing. It doesn't mean that the snow is over, or that there won't be some 80 degree day before the air is finally crisp. It means that there is promise of the change ahead.(I'd also like to note that there is a foot - A FOOT - of snow still on my lawn. But there is early spring light streaming in the

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-70336186113467451992011-02-22T20:27:00.002-06:002011-02-22T20:50:31.830-06:00

"And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is ourselvesUnder pressure."- Queen***We often wake up on the wrong side of the bed. This afternoon, my boy woke up on the wrong side of the world.The sobbing and keening filtered down the staircase. MB, hearing her brother's voice (sad or

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-44329643014860950262011-02-21T07:43:00.002-06:002011-02-21T07:49:53.545-06:00

I have five or six posts started in my head, but haven't had the time or inclination to complete them. Outside, there stands 11 inches of snow, and I am now sick. It would seem that God has decided to slow me down, since I refuse to slow down on my own. I'd love to tell you about the low points, and the high points, and those in between...but for now, I must rest. And think about how to say the

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-51716901449240855732011-02-11T08:21:00.003-06:002011-02-11T08:36:11.775-06:00

Wednesday was going to be one of those days. The therapist didn't show up due to a communication snafu. We'd kept O home from school for therapy, but now there was no therapy, and Dad left for work. Fidget to the nth power. He finally scampered up the stairs to play. Twenty minutes later, I hear him bump-bump-bumping down the stairs. Around the corner he came...with blood. On his face, his shirt,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-45733045117804995822011-02-06T13:40:00.005-06:002011-02-06T13:48:50.771-06:00

Since Steve was not going to Cairo, we decided to head down South to escape the above hot mess (or cold mess, as it were). However, as the weather forecast got more and more nasty, we decided to leave the night BEFORE the aforementioned snowpocalypse was supposed to hit. Driving through ice storms in Ohio in the dark? It results in faces like these:Scary hotels and kids that won't sleep result in

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-88335528711131997602011-01-30T17:57:00.005-06:002011-01-30T18:02:26.149-06:00

That is my kid.That is my kid's foot on the seat in front of him.He is three.We need a bigger car.Crikey.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-73151173213855700492011-01-28T21:01:00.003-06:002011-01-28T21:14:37.213-06:00

Today, my husband should have been on his way to Cairo.You know, pyramids. The Sphinx. Massive riots. Fires. Water cannons.We started feeling uneasy about it about a week ago, but we couldn't figure out why. We saw the protests earlier this week, but they didn't really cross our mind as a possible reason.Thursday morning, S asks me:"Do you have any sort of mom-wife special feeling about me not

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-70702117648120650922011-01-24T13:46:00.003-06:002011-01-24T14:29:53.919-06:00

*image courtesy of lifescookbook.tumblr.com. disclaimer - if you enjoy calling your daughter a princess, or if she refers to herself as one and loves princessy things, that's totally cool for your family and your absolute right. i merely speak for my own daughter. *This morning, as I fed MB her breakfast, the TODAY show had a segment about a book called "Cinderella Ate My Daughter." The author,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-2697047936175167922011-01-19T20:20:00.004-06:002011-01-19T20:53:26.837-06:00

(i can neither confirm nor deny that this is the car in question.)To the Previous Owner of the Green Toy Beetle Bug:I remember the Sunday when we'd carried a hysterical boy - again - out of church. There it was, in its shiny apple-green glory: a toy Volkswagen Beetle. I pulled it off of the table, where it sat next to a stack of pictures of Jesus. The pictures of Jesus should have been a hint.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-44530046574634149402011-01-15T20:46:00.003-06:002011-01-15T21:01:14.417-06:00

(goody goody gumdrops - image courtesy of sewdarncute.typepad.com .)There's a hymn that I find myself humming from time to time - here's a smattering of it:When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,Count your many blessings, name them one by one,And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.This weekend has been one of blessings. Little

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-78429430159024789392011-01-14T12:50:00.003-06:002011-01-14T12:58:32.174-06:00

Oh, my sweet MByou eat all that you seeand truth be told, it shows.Your sweet button nose,And your blue, blue eyesYour big, cheery smileThe laugh from your soulYour glass-shattering criesThe brother that you rileYou make my life whole.love,mama

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-80494623587566506712011-01-07T09:34:00.009-06:002011-01-08T07:25:14.105-06:00

(i love this so much. logophilia at zazzle.com. gitchewone.)The amazing Jess at "Diary of a Mom" posted this today, about the attack of the avalanche of life - and when to get help. Granted, its target audience is friends and family of those on the spectrum, but it's applicable to anyone going through a hard time. Read a bit below.Do you remember Sisyphus from the Greek myths? Poor schmuck was

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-61402550025764319582011-01-05T20:17:00.003-06:002011-01-05T20:37:05.323-06:00

I have a strong affinity for this guy. And this guy reminds me of him, just a bit.This is Flint Lockwood. Or, as we say it in our house, "FLIHLAHWOOD!!" (That's how Mr. T says it in the movie). Flint is an inventor. And he's a little misunderstood. He's super smart, charming, loyal, and loves the ladies.Like someone else I know. Flint's mom tells him that the world *needs* him, and the way that

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-50866418957337522302011-01-04T08:23:00.003-06:002011-01-04T08:34:24.277-06:00

(not my image. why would i have pictures of baryshnikov laying around? and did anyone buy him as hot on "sex and the city?" no. nice gams, though.)Last night, I came home from the store (thanks, CVS, for paying me to buy Excedrin - I appreciate it!) to the sound of shrieking from O's room. I went up the stairs to find Steve kneeling next to a shirtless, teary O who was attempting to put on a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-20882218038332171892010-12-31T22:38:00.002-06:002010-12-31T22:56:08.890-06:00

(dear heavens, this comic sums up the last 12 months of my life!! farewell!)A blogger I adore said this tonight:"When you write compulsively anyway, the siren song of a manufactured call for reflection is just too much to pass up."It's so true.But this is for me. Farewell, 2010 me. Farewell the mother on her knees, terrified and afraid. Farewell the woman frantically researching for help.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-77242409610260010762010-12-20T18:16:00.007-06:002010-12-20T18:47:23.566-06:00

A few months ago, I was asked to teach the Christmas lesson in Relief Society, which is our women's organization at Church. I was a little surprised for several reasons, but the most obvious to me was the fact that, frankly, Christmas and I don't get along very much.(Another possible reason is that any crafting project I start usually has to be prayed over. I'm that bad at 'em.)Five years ago, my

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-21493581675137237142010-12-17T12:15:00.002-06:002010-12-17T12:29:01.954-06:00

I'd originally posted some existential, meandering post about everything and nothing. I deleted that crap. Here's the deal - my life is a roller coaster. Most people think roller coasters are fun, scary, exciting, and they pay a lot of money to go to theme parks and ride them until they hurl. I don't like roller coasters. I don't like risk. I am not unlike Ben Stiller in "Along Came Polly,"

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-10066371523254690452010-12-08T22:30:00.003-06:002010-12-08T22:37:35.868-06:00

Dear Uterus:I can't really say that I'm sad to see you go. I'm sad at what it means; sad that I won't have any more littles from my own body. However, we knew we'd arrived at that, so your going makes things easier. The temptation is gone. I first really became aware of you at age fourteen. I was at the hunting camp, and had no form of "backup." Over the years, I faced pain, anemia, a fear of

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-54039854899819273092010-11-29T13:47:00.002-06:002010-11-29T13:57:42.996-06:00

I've been so busy living and enjoying life that I somehow forgot to write here. I love that my son adores school. I love that his great days make his not so great times (we're on day 4, now...) much easier to handle. (If you have ideas for how to keep a kid from chewing on his hands obsessively...lemme know). I love his increasing desire to be "with" - I told his doctor it was like he'd "snapped

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-30215696429983023972010-11-24T21:23:00.003-06:002010-11-24T21:27:04.810-06:00

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-37828904924402720832010-11-15T19:31:00.000-06:002010-11-15T19:31:32.508-06:00

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-25536215433408051152010-11-15T13:52:00.003-06:002010-11-15T13:54:11.971-06:00

Just sayin'. Ask me again in a few hours. But for now, it's sunny, I don't have to cook dinner, and my husband will be home from work in a few hours. We will play with the kids and laugh and be happy. Granted, one child refuses to nap.Granted, there are bills to pay. Granted, I have surgery in two weeks.But it's all a matter of perspective. Therefore, today is a great day. And I dare anyone to

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-58501621216678449802010-11-13T06:59:00.004-06:002010-11-13T07:07:22.094-06:00

I've become *that* person, the one we all made fun of years ago, frantically going from store to store in search of one. perfect. toy.(The caveat is that my son hasn't expressed that *he* wants this toy, but *I* want him to have it.)It's Bullseye.You know, the horse from Toy Story 2 and 3?You know, the really cute one?Here, let me refresh your memory:And the version I want, who is soft, and who

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-13220680717524419222010-11-10T11:28:00.003-06:002010-11-10T11:42:06.719-06:00

...big girl panties and thicker skin.An entry from a few weeks ago, "Progress," was posted on an Autism blog. While most of the comments were positive, a few people didn't understand why my doctor would insist that Ollie go to Target even though it freaks him out, and why I would follow that advice (which technically was to not give in to tantrums, especially in that situation - to help him plow

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-7615669567422905002010-11-05T23:03:00.004-05:002010-11-05T23:25:30.984-05:00

I remember getting into an argument with a professor in college about what art "is." He felt that industrial music was trash; I did not. I told him that a song by Nine Inch Nails was layered similarly to the Bolero, which he'd just played in class. He looked at me like I was crazy.I learned that the definition of art is pretty relative. And left bummed. I actually stopped going to class.My little

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-51941616480262106232010-11-02T15:46:00.004-05:002010-11-02T15:59:31.848-05:00

(this is not my graphic...but i dig it!)Two posts in a day - not my usual!I've been a little down lately on here - and it's (quite honestly) still up and down - but I felt the need to speak of the things I'm grateful for.It is November, after all - month of the holiday of Thanks.I am grateful for my children, but especially my sunshiny, sorta-needy little daughter. She loves attention, is soooo

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-82570385812448718412010-11-02T05:58:00.005-05:002010-11-02T06:45:22.968-05:00

Well, maybe *that* one, but definitely not *these* people:And don't let this one fool you, either:

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-58134420330274247022010-10-29T11:32:00.004-05:002010-11-01T13:13:20.793-05:00

So, I decided to change the name of my blog. Not that it's not still about my family (hence the description), and we're doing just fine, but I have felt a change in direction over the last few months in my writing.It's much more self-reflective. It's therapy, and it's a journey in and of itself.That makes it sound much more pretentious than I ever would dream or want it to be. But with changes in

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-63078327303082783562010-10-28T12:13:00.008-05:002010-10-29T11:26:06.966-05:00

My Oliver started preschool this week. It was harder for me than for him; he has a five minute meltdown when he gets there but is all smiles by the time I pick him up. He gave in and ate snacks; he gave in and made crafts.And he gave in and let a another little man befriend him.It's as much friendship as Ollie can handle right now; his affection for adults is much more generous (stimulated,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-26751668356036976612010-10-20T22:31:00.002-05:002010-10-29T11:26:24.689-05:00

(I think that's what she would have told me today if 1- she could talk and 2- the space needed to vocalize wasn't occupied. She snatched the spoon from me and took over the job. Smartypants!)

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-53219924300962798512010-10-19T21:44:00.004-05:002010-10-29T11:27:03.182-05:00

Today, we were working with letters. I pointed, hastily, at a "z" on its side that looked like an "n.""Ennnn," I said. "Ennnnnnnn.""Eeee!" crowed Ollie. He walked over, turned the letter correctly, and said, again - "Eeee."Well, I stood corrected.Today, he spelled walrus. Giraffe. Happy Halloween (that one freaked out my friends last week). He can't say any of those words, but he can spell them.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-86048194579919908322010-10-07T16:18:00.004-05:002010-10-29T11:27:27.019-05:00

I've always heard the expression, "Two steps forward, one step back." Yesterday, as I was putting the O-Man down for a nap, I felt in my heart that the step back was coming.And it's here.Today, Ollie is angry. He wants to be in his own world, for the most part. He has yelled, kicked, screamed, hit. He refused to make eye contact with his speech therapist. Something is going on inside my little

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-43718555659093168012010-10-03T06:45:00.005-05:002010-10-29T11:27:58.701-05:00

These are in no particular order, but I will let them do the talking. We opted for a more quiet, smaller orchard, since perfection for Ollie is defined by, first, being outside, second, being able to touch everything and third, being able to run.Petting zoos and hayrides were my ideas, not his. Working on that. :)(I may or may not have consumed nine - NINE - of those delicious donuts, by the way.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-5995960916509357752010-10-01T12:32:00.004-05:002010-10-29T11:28:23.576-05:00

Clean houses can wait. DVRs will help us not miss our Conference talks. Because adventure beckons to us, a whole weekend of it.Hay rides. Petting zoos. Apple orchards. And the Autism Speaks walk.Oh, boy. OH, BOY!!! I can hardly wait!!Pictures and documentation to follow. Promise.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-24541422209130000722010-09-27T12:35:00.004-05:002010-10-29T11:28:52.571-05:00

(This is not me. But this is probably what my attempts to be Beyonce would look like. At least the silly backup dancers.)Steve comes home from Australia tomorrow; he's been gone for nine days so far. In that nine days, life has gone on as usual. Therapies, playgroups, errands, etc.And then there was the unusual. Sick babies, friends in crisis, friends nearing the end of their pregnancies (also in

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-4178678774658656672010-09-18T18:53:00.003-05:002010-10-29T11:29:28.486-05:00

It's amazing. Time passes, and things become comfortable facts rather than terrifying possibilities.A few weeks ago, I was having chest pains. Literally. After some prayer and thought, I realized these were mostly tied to concern for my sweet boy (who has an affection for both our bed and my cookware...whatevs...). Had we made the right choices regarding school? Had we chosen the right therapy?

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-76285433915571600892010-09-14T14:15:00.003-05:002010-10-29T11:29:41.789-05:00

When you've had two sick kids for over five days, nothing - NOTHING - is better than one waking from a nap with a smile. Even if she gets angry because of her inability to do yoga in 10 minutes.Psh. These five month olds. Such overachievers.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-41431025853963459202010-09-13T05:24:00.003-05:002010-10-29T11:30:14.616-05:00

I'm not above admitting when I'm wrong. It's just such a rarity that I-I can't finish typing that in seriousness. I'm wrong - A LOT. So much so that I shouldn't bring it up. But this is specific, and it touched my heart, so I'll blog about it.(Kay? Thanks. There are lots of other posts on here to read if you'd rather move on.)In 2007, a woman named Julie B. Beck gave a speech (Mormons call 'em "

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-33778779479526121692010-09-08T05:37:00.004-05:002010-10-29T11:30:45.700-05:00

Good - A crock pot full of pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and sliced up onion. Hate on, haters - that sliced up onion is MAGIC after eight hours of simmering action. And it's even better as leftovers on Tuesday when you made it on Sunday. Something about it having time to grow into its full pot roast potential.Better - The sound of velcro ripping off the PECS wall as a little man runs around the

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-13893527831468763192010-08-31T06:12:00.004-05:002010-08-31T06:27:33.027-05:00

It's 7:12.AM.I'm posting now because I have a rare quiet minute. Bit's white noise machine is gurgling (it's on "water"); Ollie is still sleeping. Matt Lauer is on the telly, but I'm not really hearing him.Yesterday was part of a comfortable rhythm: Monday playgroup, naps, coupons while babies nap, dinner, errand. Sunday was that comfortable rhythm: sleep, breakfast, church, rest, choir, dinner,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-41548337809676922572010-08-21T22:58:00.002-05:002010-08-21T23:07:32.462-05:00

I hope you know that I love both of my children. But I feel like I write more about one (perhaps because learning to understand him is so much a part of my life) more than another.Let me tell you about my sweet. My gigglebox. My bottle monster. The Tater (rotten potato, according to my mother). Bit. Mirabeaux (geaux Saints!). Miraboo. The Mooboo.I could keep going. But enough of silly nicknames

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-2626401553845996742010-08-12T20:11:00.005-05:002010-08-12T20:18:54.162-05:00

Sometimes, life is just chock full of happy juice.Cute boys that love their new therapists (who happen to look like a supermodel - I now affectionately call her Heidi Klum).When Enfamil calls to send you more free Nutramigen for the baby.When you order this slice of adorable pie from Etsy and make a new friend in the process:When you get killer deals at Target.When you eat three pieces of pizza

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-6186718349664308812010-08-10T22:21:00.003-05:002010-08-10T22:23:11.094-05:00

Oh, hi, other blogroll and links. So glad you decided to join the party. I loathe when the page isn't visually correct.*side note - we were watching a video to prep us for Ollie's new therapy and it said usually one can find autistic traits in both parents. I am a visual freak and Steve's weird about textures and such. We collapsed in a fit of laughter and finger-pointing.

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-61947093965245501292010-08-09T07:58:00.006-05:002010-08-09T08:27:14.308-05:00

I stood on a small path in the center of a field of rice. The wind was blowing, and the stalks of rice rustled and crackled in the wind - God's own wind chime. Ollie sat next to me on the golf cart we'd used to get where we were; I wasn't about to haul thirty pounds of toddler on my hip into hundreds of acres of rice. I stepped off the cart and pinched off a stalk of rice for him, as we were on a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-13752256589443728902010-08-07T21:28:00.001-05:002010-08-07T21:29:49.317-05:00

That's "blog" with frustration added. Blogger ate half my blog. So, I'm working on transitioning to a new site. Be patient, grasshoppers - if there are any grasshoppers out there!

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-2460017879315467052010-07-18T09:18:00.003-05:002010-07-18T09:24:12.325-05:00

And by "one," I mean "Molly." Ahem.- You end up teaching an impromptu couponing lesson in the Target parking lot after conversing with the front line manager (who you know too well because of said couponing) and make a new friend.- You become thrilled when your daughter's acid medicine is on the Extra Care Buck list at CVS (hey, you need it anyway, and now they're paying you to buy it! Sweet!)-

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-28719461991746570712010-07-14T21:08:00.004-05:002010-07-14T21:20:43.595-05:00

After badgering my friend from the Interwebz, Michelle, to update (she'd been dealing with stuff and I was worried about her!) about her life, she returned with a "quid pro quo, Moll-eee" moment.Luckily, minus the scary parts.What have I been up to?-Well, the plague came to our house: some awful virus that felt/ acted like strep, but wasn't. I went to the doc in the box (30 miles away...on a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-30326406672428978372010-07-03T11:30:00.002-05:002010-07-03T11:34:20.420-05:00

No more mom hair!

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-34272553078171633262010-07-02T12:53:00.002-05:002010-07-02T12:55:12.850-05:00

Because sometimes you look in the mirror and feel old.And frumpy.And at 31, that's a giant fail.Because sometimes you find a lipstick you missed - one you haven't seen in a long time.Because sometimes, just sometimes, you want to be fabulous again......here goes...

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-89964201037674895192010-06-27T05:44:00.003-05:002010-06-27T05:47:18.178-05:00

I shall blog more soon. For now, I'm sharing what I overheard last night from Olli to Ollie in a hammock. According to him, "I am singing Olli-ver a lullaby..."Ahem. I apologize in advance."Hush little baby, don't say a word, mama's going to buy you a big sharp knife. And you can use it to scalp [people], and then mama will buy you an AK-47..."Please, don't yell at me. To me, given the context

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-36913124545232743342010-06-14T15:51:00.003-05:002010-06-14T16:01:22.896-05:00

(look, kids, it's Marilyn Manson! oh, wait...)My son loves Lady Gaga. I've made peace with this. I used to hate her something awful, but I have to admit, I have begun to enjoy the music of Gagaloo (as Perez Hilton calls her), but I cannot - CANNOT - get into the videos. Most of them are way, way too provocative. And if I'm saying that, you know that's saying something.However, Ollie has been the

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-33021909934943068692010-06-06T05:17:00.002-05:002010-06-08T05:48:09.393-05:00

I am Molly, and yesterday I found out my son has Autism Spectrum Disorder. The term "found out" is sort of ridiculous, because you go through months of evaluations for this sort of thing. But yesterday I found out, my husband and I said it to each other - "our son has autism" - and so I'm ready to step into the light.My son has autism. And he's amazing. And it's hard, but it'll be great. And

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-12079136471381521712010-06-03T19:39:00.004-05:002010-06-08T05:46:12.905-05:00

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-1571072637690978502010-05-29T06:20:00.001-05:002010-05-29T06:21:24.301-05:00

(courtesy of kelle hampton. if you don't read her blog, you're missing out on soooo much.)" hold it. perhaps i should mention the shakedown. oh, the shakedown. a term invented by sister which, by definition, is the 45 minute blitz you frantically set out on right before your husband comes home which magically transforms your home into looking like you've been june-cleaver-in' the place all

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-13932254193880855002010-05-28T20:22:00.002-05:002010-05-28T20:28:23.239-05:00

(A special thank you to those that serve today or have ever served for our freedom. No matter what people think of wars themselves, your sacrifice is always appreciated. Pic is not mine.)These are in no particular order of importance:1 - Outside time with Ollie Man. Pick up new slide (thanks, Craigslist!) and hopefully a kiddie pool or a sprinkler.2 - Fire up the grill.3 - A nap.4 - Find own

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-90060103697809306612010-05-20T11:21:00.004-05:002010-05-20T13:54:03.608-05:00

(this is a ninja. a money-saving ninja.)Ok, so a few things. My lovely friend Brooke left this comment:"molly i couponed in texas and when i first moved here, but everything in ca is so expensive and the coupons are ridiculously low. I used the grocerygame.com to get my list but by the time i paid for my paper and my subscription it wasn't worth it. there's lot of other free sites i use with

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-10225791868934357972010-05-20T07:37:00.002-05:002010-05-20T07:43:29.954-05:00

(those are my glasses. and a finger point. pretty sure i'm being mocked.)This little man has been in time out TWICE in the last hour. He screams in mock indignation as I haul (yes, haul) him up the stairs to put him in his crib. I shut the door and hear howls.The howls stop. From the first floor, I hear a laugh (not unlike the "uh huh huh" of Butthead from "Beavis and Butthead") and a thump. He's

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-67684302163072749892010-05-18T08:41:00.005-05:002010-05-18T09:16:52.929-05:00

(President Gordon B. Hinckley - he of "go to work" fame...)Well, this morning was a winner. Synchronized dirty diapers, refusals to give up bottles, fights with spouses...all before 9 am! I finally turned, crying loudly and melodramatically (as we all have done), to prayer, because I was just at my wits' end.As I poured my heart out to my Father, Ollie climbed onto my back. At first, I thought, "

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-17504255893294350452010-05-17T07:32:00.003-05:002010-05-17T07:56:30.696-05:00

About a year ago, I thought I'd get into couponing. It was more for fun and because I was cheap than anything else. Fast forward a year, a move to a place where groceries cost more, a shift to a one-income house, and factor in the fun and cheap factor and you get......COUPONZILLA.Ok, I'm not that bad. In the words of my friend Megan, who I call, giddy, when I score a deal ("OMGAAAWWWSH MEGAAAAN,

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-35261837924608592812010-05-05T11:56:00.009-05:002010-05-05T12:34:15.254-05:00

(what a cute pic...so many different possible captions!!)Life is a photo album full of snapshots. Every moment is a picture, and we can take from each picture whatever we want. In or out of context, we can learn. Scriptures are like this - we get something different every time we read the same scripture because of our personal context. I can live in a moment right now, and look at it through a

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2316215464707262076.post-89919322989761703682010-05-03T07:31:00.003-05:002010-05-03T07:34:08.456-05:00

...but in the meantime, I do single parenting right. Oliver is having a healthy breakfast of rainbow chip cookies and I'm catching up on blogs in my underwear as my daughter alternately coos and toots. We keep it klassy. Pray I survive until Thursday. :D

Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118620234749357229noreply@blogger.com0