Wednesday Dec 19, just 2 days before my kids' Christmas vacation from school started, I had another one of those conferences at my 8 year old son's school with the teacher, the school nurse, the school social worker, special education teacher, speech therapist and autism resource specialist. I had met with this team twice in the past, giving them permission to meet with him, observe him in his class, interview previous teachers, etc. And I believed this would be another one of those follow up meetings. My husband didn't even come to this one. But this was the one where they all spent 90 minutes reading to me from their written notes, and all unanimously agreeing that although he is in the 97th percent of the school district's math and reading scores for 3rd graders in our school district, he qualifies for Special Education in the school district, for "autism spectrum disorder."

Most of their findings I already knew. He has a hard time sitting still, repeats himself, has a narrow range of interests, cries when the daily schedule is disrupted, and ignores people around him, including other children, often. But some of their findings such as some of his specific patterns of speech, his inability to figure out the meanings of figures of speech, and his anxiety of loud crowds I hadn't noticed at all until they all pointed it out to me. It made me mad because so often in the past I've tried to show some of his behaviors to his pediatrician, and was told he was just being a boy, or was making the mistake of comparing him to his sister. The school psychologist said she'd send a copy of their findings to his pediatrician to keep in his chart. I'd sort of preferred that they'd proven him right, though, than prove me right this time.

I was assured he'll be in the same class, take the same bus, his routine won't really change, but that by signing my agreement to allow him to participate in Special Education they can continue to provide all the same services they'd already been providing this year, but that the school district would be bound by law to continue to provide those services if any of them were replaced in their job at some point. And that we can meet again soon to develop an Individual Education Plan for him, that will apparently include giving him the right to leave class and have some designated place to go when the noise makes him too anxious, because apparently that was a major concern of all of theirs. In a way I feel very lucky about the school district, and the school that he is in. Some parents of some seriously disabled children have to fight for their child to have an I.E.P. We just got one handed to us.

Saturday Dec 22 we drove to Green Bay, and hit a blizzard half way there! Our usual 5 hour drive with both my husband I, both our children, and our shepherd mix dog in my Saturn Sedan, as great as my car now drives, took us 7 hours. So, we arrived Saturday night. But Christmas wasn't until Tuesday. My kids couldn't believe, then, that we had to go to their church on both Sunday AND the next day, which was Christmas Eve. Churches are rough on my son. He used to try to run away during it. Now he lays his head on my lap and pulls his coat up over his head. And I knitted a lot. I just finished knitting the last of my new 9 month old nephew's baby blanket when it was time for everyone to start opening presents.

At my in-laws', my husband and his 3 siblings and all their spouses draw one name from a bowl, and that's the one sibling they have to buy a present for. But everyone buys for my husband's mom and dad and for all the nieces and nephews. And his parents buy a lot for all their kids, kids' spouses, and grandchildren. My son got lots of Pokemon toys, and my daughter got a lot of shirts with dragons on them, and books of ghost stories. I got snowflake patterned pajamas, among some other things, and my husband got Green Bay Packers football shaped soap on a rope!

Wouldn't you know we hit another snow storm about half way back, Christmas night. We had to leave Christmas afternoon, because I had to work the next day. So our drive back took almost as long as our drive there. And, after we got back, my husband found that he had taken one of his father's boots rather than his own. They really did look a lot alike. But now he had two left boots, no right one, and his father's orthopedic insert, in one of them!

So we drove up to our own driveway at about 10:00 at night, and our kids got to open what we got them, the "big present" of which , this year, was a Nintendo Wii. They stayed up until 1 am trying to hook it up and play it. But they and my husband had all the rest of the next day to do that, because although I had to work, my husband didn't and our kids are still on school vacation until the day after New Year's. My husband got me a cd and dvd I wanted and I got him some Dr Who items that seemed to surprise him. I was glad when he wasn't home a few days earlier, when I had put them under our tree, and my 14 year old daughter accidentally dropped one of his wrapped, square packages, about he size of an apple and it shouted "Exterminate! Exterminate!" from inside its package!

Yesterday when we were low on groceries, I insisted that we finally go to Trader Joe's, because I hear so much about it, from people I trust. So I remembered a news article from about a year ago, saying there was one in the southern suburb of St. Louis Park, which is really nowhere near us. But I insisted anyway. So the four of us drove all the way down highway 100, found Trader Joes, bought frozen meals, cereal, chips, all off-brand, but all apparently organically grown or farmed. My husband grumbled, "This is all the same stuff they have at the Wedge Co Op," the whole time, and the cashier told me they've built two more, recently, in the suburbs of White Bear Lake, and Maple Grove, both much closer to me!

Today I had to take my little guy clothes shopping, because in the last month he has outgrown everything he owns, including his underpants and pajamas. He's been wearing my pajamas to bed and has been relegated to the few size 12 items he already owns. Every day I try on clothes that just fit him recently, and they don't now! I did something I've rarely done, in my life, and took him RETAIL clothes shopping. I took him to JC Penney's at the Rosedale Mall and shopped for size 12 boys pants and shirts and had him try them on in their fitting room, as opposed to buying what look to be size 12 clothes from the Unique Thrift Store and just hoping they fit him when I get them home. But the boys department didn't have pajamas over size 12 for some reason, and the men's department didn't have men's "small" size pajamas, so I bought my 8 year old son size medium men's pajamas. He's flopping around in them right now, watching Deathnote on tv with his sister.

I have tomorrow off from work. I'm going to stay home with my kids, and my husband's coworker's son. She could not find day care for him for just tomorrow, and he's so much like my son, and they're so close in age, that when he came to my son's birthday party last February, they hit it off like my son rarely does with anyone, and they snuck back awake again after everyone else had fallen asleep and snuck in to the basement and played video games all night. So, hopefully they'll have fun. I'm trying to convince my daughter to have a friend over as well, but she won't commit to that, right now.

My husband is putting in 16 to 20 hours of overtime at work, every week, and getting paid time and a half for it. But he knows it's all in preparation for his company quite possibly being bought soon, so he he's worried about his future there, after that. But mine's going the same as always. Same desk, same phone, I've literally had some of the same co workers for over 10 years now. I'm more of an escalation point or troubleshooter for the department this year, than a direct customer service rep, and I'm also not the team lead or supervisor this year, which I am thankful for, right now. Although quite a few people still call me that and act like I am.

The kids have had their baths. We're going to watch a new Mystery Science Theater dvd my husband recently bought on Amazon!

I first wrote this on Dec 13, but was not willing to publish it until now, for fear no one who knows me will ever vist me again. But I have since redeemed myself and was able so successfully bake proper sugar cookies a few days later, with all new ingredients. Too bad you missed them, they were awesome!

I agreed, several weeks ago, to make 3 dozen home made cookies for my son's elementary school teacher's lounge, today. I have not attended a PTA meeting in over 3 years, but I'm on their email list and figured I could agree to that simple request.

So yes, in theory I had about 2 weeks to make these cookies. But of course I waited until last night.

I've followed the sugar cookie instructions in my Betty Crocker cook book before, about 2 years ago, and they came out OK.

My first clue that I don't actually use the raw ingrediants in my cupboard often enough to know whether or not they're fresh right now, should have been when I found the little bottle of vanilla extract...and it was crystalized inside the bottle. But I found another one that was still liquid, and just kept going.

I also now noticed in the recipe, and now remembered from before, the part that says, store this batter in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours before cutting and baking. But it seems to me last time I got away with ignoring that part, so i decided to ignore that part too.

Now it asked for almond extract. I actually have no idea how two little bottles labelled vanilla extract ended up in my cupboard. I sure didn't buy them. And, no, of course I don't own any almond extract. Who on earth does?

Then i got out my 10 pound, toaster-sized, bag of flour, figure the remaining amount looks like what the recipe calls for, so I dump it upside down in the bowl.

Isn't flour supposed to all be white?

Why are there some brown flecks in there, about the size of a half a grain of rice?

And why are some of them squirming? And have legs?

Oh crap!

I not only thow the batter away, I throw the whole bowl away. I never want to see it again. And not in the regular garbage can, the one outside!

So I go to the grocery store and buy some ready made sugar cookie dough in a tube. I also checked the baking aisle for almond extract to make sure there is such a thing. I suspect that if I were the kind of person who owned a recently purchased bottle of almond extract, this kind of thing would never happen to me. The shelf had the label for where almond extract would be, but that section of the shelf was empty. Almond extract not only exists, but apparently it's a hot commodity and doesn't stay on the shelf long. Everyone else in my neighborhood must have it, except for just me.


I lay out waxed paper on my cutting board, even though my last batter was in a bowl on the cutting board, and not directly on the cutting board, I'm extremely paranoid now. I use a roller that I inspect first to make sure it is bug free, and I roll out the dough.

I select a snow man shaped cookie cutter, press....and he won't come off the waxed paper without tearing apart! My husband says I have to flour the waxed paper to make the dough not stick to it, but I wretch at the word flour. Flour is banned until further notice. Possibly forever.

So I work something out where I cut out a snowman, move the waxed paper over the edge of the cutting board so maybe I can peel it off the back of the snowman and put it on my cookie sheet, I'm up to three now, and it's about 9:00 at night. Only 32 more of these to go, right? Plus my kids are still up. They want to put the white cake frosting on, and use the jar of sprinkles.

So I'm up to snowman number three. And why is there another brown guy, imbedded in the rolled out dough, fighting for his life in there??What did I do wrong this time? What part of waxed paper do these guys not understand ? Does waxed paper not cure all ills? Am I imagining all this?

The store bought dough, the waxed paper ,and the snowmen already on the cookie sheet , lined with tin foil, and also the tin foil itself, go in the outside garbage with the first set of dough.

At about 9:30 at night, I drive past the first grocery store, to a different one, father away. I'm too embarrassed to go back in there where I just bought a tube of dough less than 1/2 hour ago, and buy store bought cookies, just in case someone puts together that I can't handle the gateway drug of store bought cookie dough and must now move on to the hard stuff of packaged bakery cookies, and come to the logical and correct conclusion that I need my house covered by one of those circus tent shaped tarps, and my kitchen fumigated by professionals wearing biohazard suits.

I move the bag of store bought cookies directly from my trunk in to my husband's because he drops our son off at school in the morning, and has to deliver the cookies. I need to be confident that those cookies that will be consumed by my son's amazing teachers did not even pass through my kitchen. The email from the PTA lady specified that the PTA wanted to deliver home made cookies to them, not "packaged" but in my opinion they have no idea what a bullet they all just dodged.

PS . Don't come over.