1. I often pick out songs for the soundtrack of my life as if I am starring in a movie. For instance, walking out of the gym tonight, it was dark, raining and I was in a sad place. “Nobody’s Crying” by Patty Griffin would totally be what I’d play in that moment.

2. I have Stage 2 Kidney Failure.

3. When I am walking in the snow or mud, I often think that if I went missing the police would be able to tell my weight from the imprint of my shoes. It’s part of why I still go to the gym a lot 😉

4. There was a river that I walked by near an apartment I had in Westbrook, Maine. I had a strange fear about dead people being in it, and that they might float to the top.

5. I may watch too many crime and forensic shows.

6. I used to weigh 257+ pounds.

7. I met my husband online.

8. I have seriously poor physical self image.

9. I am scared of ladders (not heights, just ladders…)

10. I am totally a goodie-two-shoes. Never been drunk. Never done drugs.

11. I went to the World Social Forum in 2006 in Venezuela. I talked about healthcare in the United States. It was amazing.

12. Hallmark commercials make me cry. The movie Nights in Rodanthe did not (and my husband and best friend call me the “Ice Queen” because of it).

13. I have several “online” friends that I have known from a social message board since I was 14. I keep in touch with them, and am going to visit two in February. We have grown up, gotten married, and lots of babies have been had between us all. I think it’s awesome.

14. I’m going to pursue my Ph.D. when we move to North Carolina. You can practice by calling me “Doctor Jenn.”

15. Ever since I got my master’s degree, I have had a really hard time picturing my future. I used to have it all planned out. Now the path is unclear, and uncertain. It’s scary and exciting at the same time. Sometimes I have an irrational fear that this is the reason we can’t get pregnant – because in my mind, I can’t picture it. I can’t imagine it. (Yeah, I got me some issues).

16. Speaking of fears, when I was young I used to be afraid that if I didn’t tell my Mom that I loved her before she left the house, that something terrible would happen to her. Sometimes this fear still visits me, and I never hang up the phone, or leave someone I love without telling them so. Ever (even if I’m mad, I just whisper it under my breath).

17. If I get in the mood for one particular song, I will listen to it on repeat. For a long time.

18. I don’t like red M&M;’s. Yes I can pick them out of a blindfolded taste test (at least, I COULD…back in high school).

19. I have a terrible memory. It’s a good thing I keep journals. I’ve forgotten a lot of the things I did in high school. Good thing I also have my mother. She remembers.

20. I helped cook the meal we had at our wedding (pancake breakfast!)

21. I never pictured myself working with kids. Now, I can’t picture not working with kids. And there are certain kids that I feel in my gut, I was meant to meet and work with.

22. I am a book worm. I ALWAYS have a book or my Nook with me. I sneak reading in every chance I get. Somtimes it’s fiction, sometimes it’s sociological stuff. But it’s always something.

23. I make up songs. All day long. I sing them to myself, to my dogs, to my patient husband.

24. I used to be a very ON TIME person. Then I started working in social work, where you can’t predict always what is going to happen. So I’m late frequently, or have to cancel due to emergencies. I am okay with it now, but it was a huge adjustment for me. And truthfully, it still bugs me.

25. My first “real” job was at Shaw’s when I was 16 (but I was a babysitter during summers since I was 13). I have NEVER not had a job since that time. And for the past 11 years, I’ve had at least two jobs. I have worked as a cashier, assistant/billing/mailing/proofreading person, at FYE (cashier), as a telemarketer (please don’t be rude to them!), at a homeless shelter, a residential home, a case manager for adults with major mental illness, and now a therapist for adults & children.

Thanks for reading 🙂

I don’t mean to get all “Where Are You Christmas?” on you all, but that’s where I am right now.

Melodramatic and all.

I can’t seem to get in the spirit, and I can’t seem to get out of my own way.

I can’t seem to be happy for others, because I am too busy feeling sorry for myself.

So I’m taking a little break from the blogging world, because I need an attitude adjustment, and writing it out just isn’t helping this time.

Thanks for understanding.

P.S. Don’t worry, like the Terminator says… I’ll be back (and probably soon).
P.P.S. Thanks to Jennifer at Another Jennifer for a fabulous blog award! Will be back soon to pay it forward (I really super duper appreciate it!)

I always woke up sometime between 3:30 and 4:30 am.  Luckily, Santa had already stuffed my stocking that was hanging at the foot of my bed with plenty of toys to keep me entertained before the pre-determined awakening time of 6:00.  I usually got a lot of candy (chocolate, of course), some kind of funky magic trick or skill-related toys, and the small box of legos that would usually come with a couple of little lego men.  Santa had an affinity for pirate legos, because he knew that I understood the awesomeness of pirates.

After slowly pulling each item out of my stocking, I would have fun playing with everything until FINALLY it was 6:00 and the rest of the sleepyheads in my family would be ready to wake up.  Well, not so much “ready” as “agreed to not get too mad when I came into their rooms and bugged them.”

I’d always hang out at the foot of my parents’ bed while they opened their stockings.  Meanwhile, my sister would slowly be waking up and would be lagging far enough behind my parents that I could usually catch the second half of her opening her stocking after my parents were done.  Hers usually wasn’t as interesting, as Santa would typically bring us a lot of the same things.

Then, it was time to venture out into the living room, where our 12-foot Christmas tree was standing atop what was sure to be a mountain of presents.  See, from the time I went to bed up until this moment, I never looked directly out at the presents under the tree.  Even if I had to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I would purposely avoid looking out.  I always loved to savor Christmas, as it only comes once a year.  My sister would peek during the night.

Usually my Mom and I would make it to the living room first.  My Mom would snap on the lights, and there would be the remains of what could only be described as Santa’s bag exploding all around the tree.  We always had a TON of presents.  I have a few photos that could illustrate this, but unfortunately, they’re on a CD packed away.

Each year, there would always be one big, special present that would shine above the rest.  When I was 4, it was my Bert and Ernie garage playset that I asked Santa for when I sat on his lap at the Windham Mall.  When I was 7, it was the hanging model of the solar system my parents painstakingly made themselves out of appropriately proportionately-sized styrofoam balls, painted according to the many books on space that I owned.  It hung over my bed until after I moved out.  When I was 8, it was my He-man “Eternia” playset I was just dying to own, at 19 a Playstation, 23 a laptop, and so forth.

But we didn’t open presents yet.  First we my Mom would brew some coffee and make us some hot chocolate.  I have a Santa mug that I used every year.  I still have it, and plan on using it again this year after a two-year hiatus.  And of course, we always had mini marshmellows in it.

After that we’d turn on some Christmas music, and my parents would sit on the couch, my sister in the easy chair, and I’d make my self comfortable on the floor, on the left side of the tree beside the easy chair.  I’d be responsible for handing out the gifts; I’d find one for each of us, then we’d go around taking turns watching each other open them.  There would always be a garbage bag beside my sister and my Dad for throwing out all of the wrapping paper as we opened them.

Eventually, I’d make my way around the tree, leaving a trail of piled up toys behind me as I went.  I always tried to organize them as I opened them, to make clean up easier.  I was semi-sucessful at best.  I also had a habit of stopping to open and play with whatever I had just opened.  This always slowed down my present delivery efforts and I would get verbally prodded along. 

Besides my one big “toy” present, my Dad would always buy something special for each of us, usually something we’d use during the winter.  One year, it was my snow shoes.  Another year it was my ice-fishing traps. And so on.  Unfortunately, these gifts would typically come with curses; for example, the year of the snow shoes was the year we didn’t get enough snow to use them.  We’d joke about this, but for some reason or another it was typically the NEXT winter before we got to use our new gift.

Unwrapping gifts usually took around two hours.  In that time, the sun would always sneak up, and upon finishing we’d realize just how long we had been at it.  We’d pick up our gifts enough to make room to get to the table for breakfast.  My Dad always fried bacon and eggs.  I hate eggs, but I loved the bacon.  We typically just nuked it, so having it actually fried in a frying pan was a big deal to me (I’m kind of a baconaholic).  I eventually coined the term “Christmas Bacon” to describe it.

My Mom or my sister would always make some kind of coffee cake, or some other sweet, sticky breakfast treat, and we’d have milk and orange juice and eat breakfast as a family.  That was a rare thing.  We had many family dinners, and some quick weekend family lunches, but we were all typically on our own breakfast schedules.

And then, I’d usually disappear into my room for the better part of the day to play with all the toys Santa brought me.

These days, my Christmases are very different.  I have Christmas in Vermont with Jenn’s parents and I love it!  I admit that my outlook on the Christmas season has changed a great deal in just a few short years.  I’m much more interested in buying gifts for strangers that need them, than I am getting tons of stuff for people I know who don’t really need it.  This year, as Jenn mentioned here, we’re not getting any presents for each other, and even when we do it’s minimal, compared to the two-hour present fest I’d take part in with my family.  But even though times change, and I’ve changed, I still cherish the memories of past Christmases with my family, and still view all of my 33 past Christmases, whether they be in Windham, ME or Barre, VT, as some of the happiest days of my life.

First, let us all take a moment to CELEBRATE that I have internet back. Seriously, living without internet is what the Dark Ages must have been like. I have had the internet since IRC and AOL thanks to my computer programmer Dad. It’s in my blood. Also? I may rely on the internet a WEE bit too much. But that’s another story for another day!

Luckily, I am able to get a post in on Wednesday to Link up with Allison over at The Blogivers for Way Back When-sday! Seriously, y’all need to go link up with her. It’s mucho fun.

{here’s what happens when your Mom, best friend, and then-boyfriend get a little too into Rock Band, which is a video game if you don’t know. They start believing they are really rockstars. Then you talk them into posing. Spiking their hair. Wearing sunglasses. And letting you take pictures. Priceless.}

Testing this from my phone because our internet isn’t working (whhhiiiiiinnnneeee). Here’s a picture from our party!
Hope this works!

Over the last few years, I have worked with a lot of kids on “The Spectrum.” What that means, is that the kids have a diagnosis of Autism or Asperger’s Syndrome – in various stages, and with varying degrees of effects on their functioning.

They are some of my most challenging, amazing, rewarding, didImentionchallenging kids that I have ever worked with.

Every. Single. One. of these kids that I have worked with calls me “Jenny,” even though I have never introduced myself that way. I find it endearing (but don’t you try it). It’s a weirdly wonderful coincidence.

They see the world in a way all their own (just like all of us).

They are smart, and can teach you so much if you are willing to learn.

I have worked with their parents, to bring understanding, support and resources. For many parents, this is a life-altering diagnosis and they need to allow themselves to go through a grieving process for the hopes of a traditonal “normal” life for their children (whatever that means). However, in the end, they always come to realize that this diagnosis does not change who their child IS. It does not define them. It does not change their amazing hearts, spirits and delightful personalities.

It changes how we teach them. It changes how we reach them. But it doesn’t change who they are.

And if a doctor says there is “no hope” in reaching them, run in the other direction, because there is always hope. I’ve seen so many success stories and been part of success stories when we find the way to connect with kids, there is so! much! growth! possible. Often times the success began with a doctor saying there was little hope, and a parent not accepting that answer.

I wanted to share some resources that I use with familys to support them in helping their kids reach the maximum potential. For most, information is power, and the more you know – the less helpless you feel to the label of a diagnosis.

Websites:

Autism Speaks
Asperger’s Syndrom and High Functioning Autism
Parenting Asperger’s Blog
Diagnostic Criteria for Autism Spectrum Disorders

Programs:

Picto Selector (free program for creating visual schedules)
Signing time (sign language program, I’ve had some success with teaching sign language to kiddos when verbal abilities are low)
Sensory Integration Exercises

Books:

The Out of Sync Child
Siblings of Children With Autism
Running with Walker
All Cats have Asperger Syndrome

Hopefully this is a helpful resource to some of you, and I’d love to answer any questions if they are out there (or find answers)! Have a wonderful Monday!

The blog hasn’t grown much this week. But it certainly has been doing a lot of emotional eating. Due to the fact that I haven’t had as much time to go surfing around on new blogs, our traffic has been way down. Trying to be okay with that- because we do have a LOT of returning visitors (58.49% of you!) and I think that’s more important anyway. You all should also know that I love all of your comments! Please send an e-mail if you are having any trouble commenting, I changed the format of the comment box because some people were having troubles. I also created a Facebook page for the blog (it’s all the rage!) If you have a moment, I’d love for you to come “like” me! PLEASE LIKE ME!

Our Ugly Christmas Sweater party was a success in my book! Everyone showed up, we sang, we danced to some Michael Jackson, and we ate a lot of food while mocking one another’s Ugly Sweaters. It was really nice to see everyone. I always have major anxiety right before a party I’m hosting, like “WHAT IF NO ONE SHOWS UP!? WHAT IF EVERYONE SHOWS UP AND NO ON HAS ANY FUN?! WHAT IF PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT HOW LAME MY PARTY IS?!?!?!?! WAAAHHH!!!” Speaking of lame, my guests can thank me for not making them play pin the nose on Rudolph, as was suggested by a website I was looking at for adult party games. (You’re welcome).

Casey and I have a date today, thanks to my Mom who sent was a gift card to the Olive Garden! I have an undying love for their breadsticks, salad, and black tie mousse cake. Before we go to eat, we’re going to shop for the children we chose off the Salvation Army Christmas tree. I’m really excited to do this. My Mom is so on top of it, she has already shopped for the kids she chose! I love picturing what they look like and how happy they’ll be on Christmas morning. I also love relieving the stress of a parent somewhere out there, who is figuring out how to make Christmas happen for their child.

That’s my time! I’m going to go work on my scheduled post for tomorrow- which is going to be about Autism, and resources around it. Hopefully you’ll all tune back in tomorrow. Thanks again to all of you loyal readers and commenters. You rock!

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Some couples use the phrase “we’re pregnant” even though it’s physically the woman who is pregnant, and I assume it’s because both parents are so heavily affected in so many ways by the pregnancy. Well, miscarriages happen to both partners, too. I usually don’t say “we had a miscarriage” because I don’t want to downplay how much Jenn was physically affected.   But it was a serious blow to us both, and it happened to me, too.

I’ll never forget that Sunday.  It was a Sunday in March that Jenn and I went grocery shopping. When we got home, she told me she had some news for me, but she wasn’t sure if she should tell me.  I told her she should tell me (who can resist not knowing something, when it’s presented as such as big thing?), and so she did.  She had taken three pregnancy tests the previous Thursday, and they were all very positive.  After months and months of trying, it appeared that she might actually be pregnant.  We hugged and did our best not to get our hopes up, just in case the tests were faulty, or there was some reason for a “false positive,” because Jenn had gotten what she thought was her period just two weeks before that had made her very sick – so she knew if this was a pregnancy, something was maybe already wrong.

We bought more tests and tried them as the week progressed.  The line got lighter and then negative.  Negative.  Negative.  And then it ended, she miscarried.

She had some rough cycles after that as her body returned to its non-pregnant state.  This was hard for her, and very painful, and it was also incredibly painful for me to watch.  I felt so helpless, and I just wish I could have taken the pain for her. 

I feel helpless now, too.  I can’t change the way things are.  It can’t be easy and normal. 

It also makes me sad and angry.  Sad because I’ll never get to know the son or daughter that would have been born last month.  Sad because we finally conceived but it was taken away.  After we started trying, but before all of this happened, we had bought a small stuffed giraffe as a way of putting positive energy in the universe.  A couple of months ago, when we started cleaning, Jenn found it and, with a tear in her eye, set it in the trunk of my car as I packed it full of items to take to Goodwill. I cried like a baby all the way to Goodwill and a lot of the way back.  It’s hard to let go of a dream you want so much.

I’ve also realized that even if it we ever get pregnant again, it’ll be a lot more stressful of a pregnancy than it might have been had things just worked out “normally.”

I admit that I do feel anger at the universe.  I feel angry that people I know that are younger than me are having kids.  I feel angry that people who probably don’t deserve to have kids have kids.  I feel angry at people I see on TV that only needed some irresponsibility and alcohol to conceive.
It’s really hard to deal with sometimes.  I’ve taken some sperm tests and discovered that my sperm count is low.  Lucky me.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s my low quality sperm that messed up our baby and caused Jenn to have a miscarriage.

I try not to think about it too much, but sometimes I can’t block it out.  I take a lot of vitamins and try to eat foods that are supposedly known increase sperm count. These habits are starting to wane, as obviously, we don’t see any results.  I try to focus on the idea of adopting a school-age kid or two someday that need a home and loving family. This thought makes me happy, as it’s something we wanted to do anyway.  But it’s becoming increasingly real that we may never have a baby.

Until we manage to save up money for some medical help or domestic adoption, hope is all we really have and some days we don’t even have that.