Let's just file that away with all the other questions we don't ask in public, okay?

I'm sitting on the couch watching a cartoon with Motormouth. Out of the blue he chuckles and asks "Do you have Autism or something?" Startled, I look at him and say "are you talking to me?" Equally startled, he looks at me and says "no, I was talking to Popeye." "Why would you ask that?" I ask. "Because Popeye talks to himself" he replies.

Huh.

I think the fact that the two of us were startled by the idea that the person sitting next to us would actually talk to us is more of a indication of Autism than talking to yourself, but what do I know?

Can you hear me now?

SSG G: I'm going to head to bed, I have to be up early tomorrow.

Me: Okay, but the sheets are in the dryer.

*20 minutes later*

SSG G: (calling from the bedroom) Hey! The bed's not made!

The Extortionist

I'll admit it. I borrow money from my oldest kid. I can at least say that I always ask first and eventually remember to pay him back. I don't sneak the cash out of his wallet and then pretend I don't know what happened. This is because I am an honest person and am trying to set a good example by presenting myself as a great role model of good values and morals, and nothing to do with the fact that the kid counts his money more than once a day and could tell you what his nickel to quarter ratio is at any given time. I ask to borrow a couple bucks to take his little brother to the video store and his response is this, "sure Mom, you can have five dollars, but when you pay me back you'll need to give me twenty dollars." I stare him down. "okay, you can pay me $10". My eyes get bigger. "how about $11?...I'm running out of numbers here, Mom."

Apparently my credit score at the Motormouth Bank and Trust is really, really, REALLY low.

It's the little things.

Me: Hey G, today is military spouse day.

G: mmm'kay. I made you pancakes this morning.

Me: I get a sneaking suspicion that you didn't know that at the time.

G: (giving 'jazz hands') Happpy Military Spouses Day!!!

Me: That's better.

My Morning

Conversations with Motormouth

Motormouth: Mom, I'm tired of this old PSP. I need a new one!
Me: (taking a deep breath) That is an incredibly spoiled, selfish sounding thing to say. Your's works fine, but if you have $130 feel free to buy another one. In the mean time, if it would help, I can take your's so you don't have to suffer playing an "old" one.

......

Motormouth: I have questions. What was that guy's name again? Where was he shot? Why?
Me: (another deep breath) Osama Bin Laden.
Motormouth: He was eeeeevil. In your face Bin Laden.
Me: NO! Don't be like that. Yes. He was very evil, but we should never be happy that someone is dead. You don't have to be sad, but don't be happy either.
Motormouth: So, where was he shot and why?
Me: Pakistan. In the Middle East. He was killed because he planned an organized the death of thousands on 9/11. And you just can't do that. America protects it's people whenever possible.
Motormouth: No, I meant WHERE was he shot?
Me: yeah, I know. I'm not getting into that with you because it doesn't matter. Dead is dead. You can't take it back.
...............
Motormouth: Oh, I forgot to tell you. The carpet in the basement is all wet. I noticed a couple of days ago but didn't tell you because I needed to play with my Legos.
Me: (taking a deep breath and praying I can hold it until I pass out) THAT'S NOT SOMETHING YOU DON'T TELL SOMEONE.
..........................................
Me: Where is your jacket, the bus will be here.
Motormouth: I dunno.
Me: it's not on the coat hook. Yesterday you came home and left your shoes and jacket on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. I told you to come pick them up and put them where they belong. Where do you think that is?
Motormouth: I really don't know!!
Me (still holding my breath, because it's working so well for me right now) Go. Check. Your. Room.
Motormouth: It's not in here.
Me: your bus is here.....Wait! Don't go out yet! (turning to grab a long sleeve sports jersey off the clean laundry stack. *BANG* front door slams shut and he runs outside and jumps on the bus. It's 43 degrees.)


I would just like to say that his jacket was spread out right in front of his door in his room. He must have been standing on it when he went in to look. The basement carpet is indeed wet and I don't know where it's coming from. Oh, and G just left for a couple days.

This tooth fairy doesn't work for it....or accessorize.

G's away for a couple days and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm not used to that anymore. I laid in bed trying to fall asleep and just drifted off when I woke up remembering that Motormouth had lost a tooth and I needed to do the tooth fairy thing. Since he and I had just discussed who the tooth fairy actually was, I toyed with the idea of just staying in bed and making the exchange in the morning. My Bad Mommy Guilt finally drove me out of bed. I get in his room and successfully navigate the obstacle course of dirty clothes, Legos and various other sharp objects just waiting to be stepped on. I make it to his desk (the previously agreed upon exchange spot) and: Nothing. I check his end table: Nothing. I search around quietly for a few minutes and give up. This morning he comes out and demands to know why I didn't make the trade. I respond by telling him that what I said last night was true; that if I couldn't find it, I wasn't paying for it, and that the tooth wasn't where it was supposed to be and I wasn't going to spend all night searching for it. He wonders if he can trade his tooth for cash this morning. Sure. He then asks what I do with the tooth. When I tell him that I throw them away he says "oh, I thought the tooth fairy made a necklace out of them."

Not this tooth fairy.

Don't make me feed him goldfish crackers and unleash him on you.

We've lived here for three years now. That means a lot of things, mostly that G and I are dying to move, but also that the kids are due for eligibility reevaluations at their schools. I wasn't on the ball with Motormouth's school, and let them do the re-eval, and they are wanting to change his eligibility from ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorders) to some stupid 'dual' eligibility (because they don't argue that he has Autism, just not enough). That's another story, though, and I won't bore you with it. I called Monkey's school and told his teacher that I wanted to decline the eligibility re-evaluation (they have to be done every three years to determine placement in Special Education, UNLESS the school and the parents agree that there is no need. I can't imagine them deciding that Monkey doesn't have Autism, so I don't want to give them the chance). She called me back after a week and said that it was okay, so I'm assuming that means the school doesn't question his eligibility either, thank God. She then proceeded to tell me that they would still have to do 'some' testing and observations with him to satisfy the MET requirements, yada yada yada. At this point I'm a little suspicious of everything the district is saying, so interrupt her with the following:

Me: I guess I'm okay with you doing what you need to in order to 'check the box' on the paperwork, but I will need you to inform me in advance what days the testing and observations will be done.

Teacher: oh...sure...I guess we can do that, how much notice are you needing?

Me: at least the day before. I feel that if you are going to be observing and testing him, then you should be getting a true look at Monkey without the supports he has in place for his Autism. The main support piece that we provide at home for him is keeping him on his strict GF/CF diet, which as you know, helps him control his behavior, sit still and focus, among other things- and I feel that we would need to take him off his diet for you to really get a feel for what Monkey's special needs REALLY are....you are probably going to want to get everything done in one day. He's going to be a complete mess (shrieking, flailing, hysterical mess) and so I really don't want to subject him to feeling so out of control longer than absolutely necessary. Okay?

Teacher: um...you know....let me talk to the Social Worker. She knows Monkey pretty well, maybe we don't have to do all that....let me find out what we REALLY need to have for this before we jump into testing...*nervous laugh*.

Me: why don't you do that and get back to me.