As Promised, Mychael's Cheese Story

The other night, I was telling my cousin, Mindi, about this funny blog I had read about a constipated preemie baby, and it reminded me about something my daughter, Mychael, had said when she was just a little girl. It still cracks me up - and if you know Mykie, once you hear this story, you'll most likely think it is just so "her." So I was re-telling the story, and we were all laughing, and Mychael said, "You should put that story on your blog, Mom!" I told her I would, and as I promised yesterday, I am posting it today - and even though this happened probably seven or more years ago, it's still pretty dang funny. Either that, or I have a seriously warped sense of humor and am raising heathens for children. Both options are equally plausible.

OK - imagine Mychael at the age of about five. Round face, chubby cheeks, and sparkling eyes full of mischief, and W - A - Y too smart for her own good!! We had the whole family running around doing some errands of some sort - I don't even remember what we were doing or where we were going, except that we'd been out for awhile and still had more places to go. The kids were all starting to get tired and hungry and cranky, and I think one of the places were going to go was maybe to dinner - or it could've been that, at that point in time, we couldn't afford to go out and feed everyone in a restaurant that day, or something. For whatever reason, going through a drive-through at a fast food joint just wasn't an option. So instead, we stopped by a grocery store, and I ran inside and got some snacks for everyone to share, to hold off the grumbly tummies until we could finish our errands and go get "real" food.

I ended up getting a bag of cheese curds. It's quite possible I also got some Gator-Aid and some pretzels or something like that, too, but all I really remember is the cheese curds. Why? Because my kids were shoveling them down like mad. You would've thought that this was the first food they'd had in days by the way they were hoovering them up. So finally I had to say, "Hey, guys - slow down with the cheese curds. If you eat too much cheese, it could make you constipated!"

Mychael says, "What's constipated?"

I reply, "It's what they call it when you can't poop, or if it's too hard to poop, for a long time. Sometimes cheese can make it hard too poop, if you eat too much."

Mychael then says, "How do you fix it?"

"Well," I say, "it depends on how bad it is. If you're only a little bit constipated, you can just eat something that gives you the poos, like lots of cherries or some prune juice or something."

Ever the curious one, Mychael says, "What if it's bad?"

As I am thinking of how best to describe the process of suppositories and/or enemas to a five-year-old, she answers her own question: "They probably stick a fire hose up your butt and blast it out, huh?"

Why, yes, Mychael. That is precisely what they do! More or less. Anyway, hope the story was worth the wait.....

An UGH Mood

Last night, I was really, really tired for some reason. I got home from work, made spaghetti for the kids, and then pretty much just veg'd the rest of the night. All I wanted to do was park my butt in front of the TV and just zone out as much as possible until I could justify going to bed.

Cyd, however, had other plans. She came up to me after dinner and said, "Mom, is it alright if I make some desert?"

Normally I am OK with this, as Cyd is a pretty good cook. However, her clean-up skills leave a bit to be desired. And, since I am trying to sell my house, I have to stay pretty vigilant about having it "showing ready" at the drop of a hat. So I weighed Cyd's desire for desert with my desire not to have to clean any more than absolutely necessary, and with a heavy sigh, I caved.

"Ugh! Fine!" I said.

Cyd bounced off, then came back a few minutes later with a box of spice cake mix. "It's not 7:30 yet and I just have enough time and so is it OK if I bake this?" came out of her, all on one breath.

I don't like cake all that much. In fact, the only kind of cake I really, really like is chocolate with white frosting, but Cyd doesn't like chocolate anything (besides brownies, that is...). And, Cydanie and Mychael generally only have one piece of cake each, and Bretten won't have any at all because she doesn't like any cake. That means whenever Cyd makes a cake, I either eat 3/4 of it by myself, or I end up throwing away almost a whole cake - both of which drive me crazy. I didn't have any better suggestions for Cyd, though, so once again, I caved.

"Ugh! Fine!" I said.

Off she runs again, only to come back five minutes later to say, "Is it OK if I just go over to Kerry's house and borrow some eggs because our eggs are all gone and I only need three!" Again, I am irritated - besides the fact that I don't like to borrow stuff, in general, and now I would have to go to the store sooner than I was planning on so that I could return the eggs to my neighbor, I was also thinking that if Cyd would only read the box before starting and assemble all her ingredients, then she'd know we didn't have eggs before she even started! Then I could convince her she couldn't make a cake, and then I wouldn't have to eat it all or throw it out, or clean up the mess afterwards! But no, it was too late - the mix and the oil and the water were already in the bowl. So, here I cave again, with another exasperated sigh: "Ugh! Fine!"

I am sitting there, reading the paper, thinking that finally Cyd is all set and I don't have to worry about her until it's time to clean up. It was not to last, as Bretten comes in with the bowl in her hand.

"Mom," she says, "is this all stirred up good enough? Cyd can't stir it all the way, and neither can I, but when I told her to come tell you, she's all, 'Mom's ugh.' Then I said, what do you mean, Mom's ugh? And she said, 'Mom's just ugh.' So I asked her what that meant, and she said, 'Mom's in an ugh mood.' So I asked her what an ugh mood was, and Cyd said, 'Everytime I tell Mom anything, she just goes 'ugh!'"

Of course, then I felt guilty for saying "Ugh" to Cyd all night, but I was also a little bit tickled at her perception, since recognizing and understanding other people's moods is generally a struggle for people with autism. And that was enough to get me out of my 'ugh' mood for the rest of the evening.

"Will Make Faces For Food"

Most of my stories/moments so far have been about things that happened a while ago - sometimes a long while ago! However, just because Cydanie is older, doesn't mean she doesn't still come up with the occasional funny moment anymore.

Case in point: last week was hectic as I had relatives visiting from the east coast, the twins had "Cub Camp" in preparation for starting 7th grade (today!), and I have a big trial going on at work. Well, in order to get everyone where they needed to go last Thursday, I dropped Bretten and Mychael off at Cub Camp and left Cydanie home alone for a couple of hours. The plan was that my mom would pick Cyd up on her way to get the twins from the junior high, and then take all three of them down to Kim's place for the rest of the day. As I was going out the door, I was giving Cyd a bunch of last minute instructions: "If someone comes to the door, don't open it unless you know the person!" "No cooking on the stove or oven - microwave only!" "Don't forget to bring Bretty's stuff!" "Call Grandma if you need anything!" "Remember to put the dog in the laundry room before you leave!" and so on.

Well, I got home that evening and was quizzing Cyd on her day. "Did you remember to put the dog in the laundry room when you left?" I asked her.
"Yeah. And, I just gave her some food, too."
"You did, huh? Good job!"
"Yeah, she told me she was hungry, so I feed her."
At this point I am secretly smiling, but I maintain a straight face as I say, "She told you she was hungry?"
"Yeah."
"Hmmm...how did she do that?"
"Well, she made a face at me. So, I feed her."

Cracked me up! She gets very offended if you laugh at her, though, even when she's done something cute, so I had to struggle to keep the giggle in as I pictured our dog, a slightly chubby Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Sarah, making faces at Cyd in exchange for weight-control formula Purina One.