St. Peanut Butter Jelly Day

St. Patrick's Day isn't a very big celebration at our house, we never do much for it. Last week though, I was walking through Costco and I saw a thing of pre-packaged corned beef, with the seasonings and all. I thought it might be a fun and easy way to take part in the traditional dinner of corned beef and cabbage.

I cooked it in the crock pot all day today, the delicious aroma filling our house. I didn't have any cabbage, so I had substituted with carrots, which I figured the boys would like better anyway. 

At 4:45, dinner was ready. Everyone took their seats at the table and we dug into our food. Mmm, I thought to myself, not bad. It was a bit on the salty side, but I thought that would only make the kids like it more.

Binker was the first to protest.

"I don't like it!"

He's been exerting that preschooler attitude more and more lately, which, is a double-edged sword. I love that he is talking a lot, and sharing his opinions, but it can get a bit exhausting when you spend an entire day being told by your 4 year old that he doesn't want to do anything you tell him.

I tried to encourage him to eat a few more bites.

"I don't WANT corned beef! Take it away!"

I looked at my husband, and sighed. How could he not like it?

Bug was next.

"Mommy, I don't like this," he said, while making a scrutinizing face.

Big sigh. I gave up.

"Binker," I asked, "Do you want corned beef, or peanut butter jelly?" (He NEVER wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich).

Can you guess which one he chose?

And as soon as I started making a sandwich for Binker, Bug had to have one too. As well as Boo, who eats everything, yet hadn't touched his corned beef.

Around this time, I noticed Husband taking his plate to the sink, the food barely gone. I eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh, it was delicious, I just...found a hair in it, so..." he trailed off. He hovered over me for a minute, then said, "So, honey, we've been together several years now...and you've never made this dish before. Why did you decide to make it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I never had it growing up, it's not like a tradition or anything, I just thought it'd be fun-"

"Oh, THANK GOD, it was awful!"

Looks like our St. Patrick's Day dinner will be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from here on out! 

Magic

Originally published July 24th, 2010. 

I knew a man who was magic personified.
 
Many little kids believe in Santa Claus while growing up, and I was no different. The only difference, is that I had my own personal Santa Claus. I knew he was the real one. His cheeks were always the perfect shade of pink, he wore bells around his wrists, his blue eyes sparkled, and his smile never faded. He was the real deal. I knew all of those Santas at the malls were just helpers, since the real Santa was busy up at the North Pole, getting ready for Christmas. Yet, he was never too busy to visit my brother Tim, and me.

Every year, a couple weeks before Christmas Day, he would show up, always unexpectedly for Tim and myself. Sometimes it was close to bedtime, other times it would be on a weekday afternoon. My brother and I always wanted to follow him out of our house when he left to watch him fly off the roof, being carried away by eight magical reindeer - but my parents always stopped us, the magic wouldn't work if we were watching, they said.

Tim answering the door to one of Santa's surprise visits.

Our Santa was also very crafty, just as Santa should be. He was very good at making things out of wood. One year, my brother had asked for a train set for Christmas, and when he came by for his pre-Christmas visit, he brought Tim a train whistle made out of wood. A few years later, I had asked for a doll house, and when he stopped by a couple weeks prior to the holiday, he brought me a wooden dining room set, perfectly sized to fit in a doll house. It was magical.

There was a brief year when I was a little unsure about this guy, but I came around.

My Santa gave the warmest hugs. He smelled so wonderful too, sweet and pepperminty, just as you would expect Santa to smell. It was better than meeting any movie star or celebrity; I was good friends with the SANTA.

Tim getting a hug from Santa.

Going over my wish list.

So who was my Santa? His real name was Bob Comingore. My mom found him through an ad in the newspaper in 1985, and hired him to play Santa at our house for all of the neighborhood kids. They all got along so well, that he kept up the part, year after year, even coming to visit us each time we moved to a new home, in a new city, no matter how far of a drive it was for him in his red truck (not a sleigh with reindeer).

Bob and his wife, Gloria were probably in their sixties when Bob became our personal Santa Claus. Though they were never able to have children of their own, they loved kids, and after I found out who he really was, they both became like a third set of grandparents to me. I admit, the first time we had them over for dinner as the Comingores, it was a bit strange for me, but Bob had a light and warmth inside of him so enveloping, that I couldn't help but be captivated by his presence. As Santa, Bob brought so much magic and fun to my childhood, and I hope he knew how much he meant to me.

In August 2005, shortly after my brother got married, I wrote Bob and Gloria a letter. I hadn't talked to them in awhile, and I thought they would get a kick out of hearing that the little boy they had known from the time he was three, was now a husband. I never got a response. A few months later, my mom heard from Gloria, and she relayed the sad news that only a couple weeks before I had written that letter, Bob had passed away. I was heartbroken at his passing.

Bob Comingore was a truly special human being; people like him are few and far between. He was just a genuinely kind, warm-hearted person. When I think back on my childhood, having my own Santa Claus, and all of the wonderful memories he gave me is something I will never, ever forget.

Gloria is still alive, and lives in Oregon, near a nephew of theirs. Earlier this year, she mailed my mom a box full of wooden toys that Bob had made before he passed. Most of the toys were little cars, although there was also an adorable wooden airplane that my brother's daughter now has. These wooden toys are so simple, yet they hold so much meaning for me. I can imagine Bob carving them with patience and care, and smiling at the thought of the little children who would enjoy them. I love when my sons play with the cars; I can't wait for the day when I can tell them all about the great man I knew. My only regret now is that Bob never got to play Santa to my own kids, so I am especially grateful for these toy cars, as they are a link from him to my children.

A few years ago, my mom gave me this figurine, to always remind me of the joy my Santa brought to me as a little girl.
I put it out every Christmastime, and whenever I see it, it reminds me of the wonderful man who brought so much magic to my childhood.

Best Friend.

Since Jacob's autism diagnosis, he has made amazing progress in several areas. However, when it comes to playing with others, Jacob still has a ways to go. He rarely interacts with other kids, including his brother and cousin, M, who is around quite often. He will play around them, and talk about them, but does not very often actually play with them. This is called solitary play, and is something that a lot of children with autism struggle with. Being his mom, this concerns me a great deal, because I obviously want him to have friends as he gets older and into grade school. Just the thought of him being lonely, or feeling like an outsider absolutely crushes me. We still have time before he will be in kindergarten, and I hope he will become better at engaging with other kids by that time.

We didn't plan on our first two children being 10 months apart, but obviously we weren't doing much to prevent it. Although in my defense, I didn't think my husband and I were going to be anywhere near each other. We were using that good old-fashioned birth control method known as the U.S. Navy.

I know that many people thought, and some probably still do think, that we're crazy for having kids so close together. I used to wonder sometimes, myself, at the timing of it all, and just figured that God has a purpose for Ryan and he was supposed to be born.

When everything happened with Jacob last year, I found myself feeling extra thankful for Ryan, and the fact that he is so close in age to Jacob. He is Jacob's built-in best friend. He absolutely adores his big brother. He constantly follows him around, and wants to be doing whatever Jacob is doing. His first question every morning is, "Where's Jacob?", and he asks me this several times during the three hours that Jacob is at preschool every day. In our car, Ryan sits in the middle seats, and Jacob is in the backseat. Ryan always turns his head around as far as he can to look behind him, and yell "Jacob! Oh, Jacob!" He loves to give Jacob hugs, and when Jacob tries to get away from him, he laughs and thinks it is a big game. I am grateful that Jacob has this built-in best friend, who will always be there, right behind him, and who will always love him. I also secretly hope that if anyone dares to be unkind to Jacob in school, that Ryan will be right there to defend his older brother. 

I don't feel uncomfortable anymore when people ask me how far apart they are in age. Regardless of what anyone thinks, I know that Ryan was destined to be born, he was part of God's plan. He knew that Jacob would need a buddy to stick by him, through the good and bad times. I still hope and pray that Jacob will improve at his social skills, and that as he gets older, he will have more friends than he can count.

But I feel comfort in knowing that Ryan will always be there for him.

Nine Months!

Boo's hair is getting kind of out of control at this point. Husband and my dad keep teasing me that Boo needs a haircut, but I just can't bring myself to do it! I love his soft, sweet curls. Also, he is getting better at chewing foods now that he has FOUR teeth!

Eight months!

And more and more adorable with every passing day.

Seven Months!

Husband and I are having a really difficult time believing that Boo is already 7 months. When did this happen?! Our sweet, precious babe is just growing up way too fast. He crawls everywhere, and last week he stood for almost a full 10 seconds. I knew that having older siblings would make him want to keep up with them, but I'm not sure I'm ready for my baby to be changing this quickly. He is so stink in' adorable, though. Always ready with a smile, a giggle, and his latest cute feature - scrunching his nose. We're just crazy about him. I remember the whole time I was pregnant with Boo, aside from praying for a healthy, happy baby, I prayed that God would send us a child that would be the perfect addition to our family. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect fit; it's like he has always been with us. We are so blessed to have each one of our three sons. I love watching them grow, (even if it is bittersweet at times).

The Difference a Year Makes

Things have been absolutely amazing for Binker as of late. He is just positively blossoming. His language has been exploding, his social interactions are improving, and he is exhibiting more typical behavior on a daily basis. I could not be more pleased with these recent changes in him. I plan to write a more detailed post, in the next couple of days, about all of his positive changes and the new things he is doing. 

I was struck today though, as I browsed through some of my older blog posts and came across one I wrote almost a year ago. I never actually published it, I just saved the draft. It was written shortly after we began heading down the autism road, uncertain of what we were facing. My husband was on (yet another) underway with his ship, I was about four months pregnant, and well, completely overwhelmed. I remember how I felt, writing that post. I was heartbroken, scared, unsure. All I wanted was a looking glass, so that I could see the future; I just wanted to fast-forward so badly, and know that everything would be okay.

 *          *          *          *          *

May 24, 2011

This afternoon I found myself standing over my kitchen sink eating from a spoon that had peanut butter with chocolate sauce on it.

I am feeling overwhelmed. Life. Sometimes it can just become a bit too much, and lately I feel like I have reached my limit and am now in the red. I have broken down to my mom more times than I would like to admit, (husband is about 2,000 miles away with his ship right now).

I hate crying, and I can't even tell you how many strangers I have started crying to - completely out of the blue.

It. Sucks.

We have so much going on, and I feel so ill-equipped to handle it all.

Pregnancy. Jacob's speech development issues. Ryan's skin rash that won't go away. All of the vitamins and oils and probiotics I am supposed to be getting in my kids every day. Richard's college stuff - paperwork and bills that are suddenly popping up out of nowhere, when the LAST thing we need to do is add more money to our credit card. Trying to get Jacob into preschool. Trying to stay on top of everything while not completely falling apart.

But I am. Today I am, anyway. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more in charge, but for right now? I can't help but think there is no way I can handle all of this, and I don't understand why God thinks I can.

I want a vacation from life. I wish I could freeze time here, and just hideaway for a little while on some tropical island recharging my brain.

Normally I am fine when Richard is gone on underways, I'm used to them at this point, and, frankly, sometimes they are nice because they allow me the chance to just focus on the kids and housework and stay in my pajamas all day and not worry about doing my hair or makeup.

This time though, I am just frustrated. I want my husband home, here with us. I need him here, I need his moral support, I need to feel like I am not completely on my own while wading through these uncertain waters.

 *          *          *          *          *

We have in no way reached the end of our journey, and we still have lots of ground to cover, but my life is completely changed from where it was one year ago. The way I felt then, to the way I feel today could not be more different. Binker has come so far, baby Boo is here - happy and healthy, Bug is my defiant yet sweet three year old, and my husband has a job that brings him back home to me every night. 

I am so thankful to our Heavenly Father for his faithfulness, and love during the difficult times we've seen, and I am blessed by my husband, children, extended family, and amazing friends, both new and old.