In Praise of Yo Gabba Gabba

It'll probably only happen once. I thanked God today for "Yo Gabba Gabba," a ridiculously wild show on Nick Jr.

We went to the mall this morning. I fell on the ice while carrying Lydia and landed on top of her. I was crying, she was crying, and Jonah was choosing to disobey my commands to get back in the car while I tried to regroup. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad morning.

We returned home. I turned on the television, looking for a moment to breathe. Lydia retrieved our plastic tablecloth from a bottom drawer, desiring a "picnic" in the living room. I set up the tablecloth, started making lunch, and heard the song on the TV.

I literally said, "Thank you, Jesus." (What can I say, it was a rough morning.)

My kids were happy. They devoured their lunches-- green beans, carrots, etc.

We'll be singing it for the next four days.

Beware: You will too.

The Blogger Trap

I don't intend to just post pictures. I really do like writing on my blog, but I don't know what to write anymore.

Here's my problem: As an English teacher, I would talk to students about writing to their audiences. I don't know how to write to my parents, old friends, great uncle, cousins, childhood friend's mom, strangers, grandmother, and best friends, and find something interesting to say to everyone-- or something that I'm willing to share with everyone.

So I'm stuck.

Scavenger Hunt

We were bored one night last week and decided to be creative. We planned a scavenger hunt around campus for the kids.


Jonah had to take a picture of the new prayer chapel. I thought some of you would like to see it:

Grammy

We enjoyed fun times with Grammy last week. I think we were all sad when she left!

The Poopin' Cowboy

Proof

We had a good family day yesterday-- sleeping late, cleaning the garage, riding bikes, relaxing in front of the television, etc. So we attempted to go to a basketball game on campus yesterday afternoon.

Jonah can articulate how he's feeling now so after standing on the sidelines for about five minutes, he sloppily ran out the door and said he didn't want to go back to the game because his "ears hurt." We waited until the game was over and ventured back in the gym so he could play with the kids. We weren't there long. We left immediately when we saw him wrestling unsuspecting kids to the floor.

He never recovered last night. Our calm whispers, positive attitudes, and peaceful house didn't help at all. We were AMAZED at how 30 minutes in a gym environment could send him into such a downward spiral. He was asleep by 7 p.m.-- much earlier than usual.

There's been a little talk in the news recently about Sensory Processing Disorder. An article in Time Magazine in December sums it up:

"My doctor doesn't believe in SPD; teachers can't handle it; insurance won't pay for therapy. There's good reason for that. SPD is not listed in medical texts or in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual (DSM), the bible of psychiatric disorders. Doctors acknowledge sensory issues as a common feature of autism and a frequent feature of ADHD but not as a stand-alone disorder. Lucy Jane Miller, a former protégé of Ayres and head of the STAR Center, is spearheading a campaign to change that. She has organized a national effort to have SPD added to the next edition of the DSM, the fifth, due out in 2012. Earning a spot in the DSM V would make it easier for researchers to win grants, kids to get accommodations at school and families to be reimbursed for a course of treatment, which, at the STAR Center, often costs $4,000.

To receive recognition, advocates must provide persuasive evidence that 'this is not just part of autism or ADHD, that it's a better definition of what these kids are experiencing,' says Dr. Darrel Regier, director of research for the American Psychiatric Association and vice chair of the DSM V task force."

Our house yesterday evening would have given them some "persuasive evidence."

And to see my boy this afternoon at home-- calm, in control, sweetly singing to himself-- the difference is unbelievable.

Bubble Beards

She's Not a Baby Anymore