Forgive us our trespasses

Forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.

HT works a second job, part-time at a small compounding pharmacy. The owner of the pharmacy is generous enough to treat his employees to a nice dinner around the holidays, his way of expressing appreciation for all they do. We were having a fine time Saturday night. People had a few drinks. Dessert had already been served, things were winding down. I couldn’t really hear much from the other end of the table, it was so noisy, but then it happened. The husband of one of the employees, started making fun of someone with Tourette’s. This guy is generally the life of the party, joking around; he has people in stitches with his stories.

I don’t know how it started, but he was suddenly mimicking the tics of a grown person with Tourette’s, someone that he knows. Like he was doing a comedy impression. It went on for a bit. Then he talked about how the guy he knows, with the Tourette’s, was abused as a child, insinuating this caused the tics, or made them worse.

I waited for my husband to say something.

He didn’t.

The man quickly shifted his topic to being a (his words) “deplorable” Trump supporter. He was loud and proud about it.

I looked at Todd and what I told him with my eyes was IT IS TIME TO LEAVE.

We got up and walked to the other end of the table, to the owner of the pharmacy, who seemed so happy to have everyone gathered. As we said our good-byes I stood inches away from the “deplorable,” and had a vision of flicking him in the head as we walked past. That vision seriously came to my mind. What would happen if I just picked up a cloth napkin off the table, and twirled it tight and snapped him in the head with it, like a towel in a locker room?

We stood outside the restaurant waiting for the valet, our eyes met and HT said, “What?”

“You know what! How could you not say something? Were you expecting me to handle it? These are YOUR people.”

“Do you want me to go back in?” he asked.

I glared at him.

The valet pulled up with our car.

Taking out my phone I pulled up a photo of our son. The one with tics. The one that can suddenly, overnight, look like he has Tourette’s when a virus or bacteria causes his immune system to over-react and attack the movement area of his brain.

Shoving the photo in HT’s face I asked, “Don’t you feel kinda like you just betrayed your child?”

Eternity went by in his one-second pause. He bowed his head and replied quietly,

“Yes. I do.”

His willingness in that moment to be honest and vulnerable, turned the ship around. Had he gotten defensive it would have been so much worse.

It was a long, 45 minute drive home, and we fought some more, (with me texting a friend for support behind his back) but the edge was off. We were getting back on the same team. Once home, around 11PM, we walked the dogs, and we talked more. I acknowledged that this was a big night for his boss. And that confronting the “deplorable” would have ruined it, especially so late in the evening when there wouldn’t be time to recover the mood. HT said he would address the woman who’s husband caused the scene, and tell her how hurtful it was, when he saw her on Monday. Not that it’s her fault, what her husband says, but she was giggling along with it, and so were some others. I forgave him for not knowing what to do in the moment. The truth is, I didn’t quite know what to do either. I was stunned.

While I was glad he planned on talking to his co-workers, I felt the need to say some things too, as a mother. I wrote an email, describing who our son is, and what his struggles have been. I attached photos of how little he was when his PANS started, and photos of him now, because I wanted them to see his face. I wanted them to know that making fun of someone for something they can’t control is ignorant and cruel. I sent it to HT’s boss asking him to forward it to everyone that had been there. I hoped that even if the “deplorable” didn’t take my message to heart, maybe someone else in the group would. Maybe it would be an opportunity for learning.

Driving to teach a yoga class the next morning, I thought about times I have inadvertently offended someone. When you know better you do better, and there have been times in my life where I didn’t know better yet. Maybe he didn’t know better. While I feel it was the right thing to do, to address this, I also have to look into my own heart and know, without a doubt, that I have been on the other side of this equation. And undoubtedly, there have been occasions I’ve offended people without even knowing it.

This passage from The Lord’s Prayer said over and over in my childhood, my grandmother’s voice, with mine mumbling underneath it in church,…and said every night at bedtime prayers…..repeated in my mind,

Forgive us our trespasses, 

as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.

HT’s boss called the next day to apologize for not setting the tone at the dinner. The “deplorable’s” wife apologized via email and in person to HT on Monday. Another colleague also apologized via email, and in person.

I have gone back and forth about whether it was necessary to address this, in this way, and if I let my ego get the best of me. Could I have been a bigger person? Would it have been better to take him aside and talk to him privately at the dinner? Perhaps, but I didn’t have that presence of mind at the time, because I was upset. Because I am human. Because I was stunned. HT was too. Some people think it is cowardly not to address a person face to face, but those are usually people that have the words, right there, in the heat of the moment. They are good arguers. Quick tongues, quick on their feet. I need to think first. As a special needs parent, I’ve come to respect different learning styles, and different ways of expressing. I express through writing.

Forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.

In the heat of the moment, I freeze and can’t talk. Or I cry. I’ve gotta feel really safe to express myself when I am upset, and I didn’t know this guy. And he didn’t seem all that safe to me.

So, that’s how it all went down.

I felt like if we didn’t address it we were betraying our child and others like him.

Trump might have won the election, but it is still my country too. I don’t want my world to be a place where making fun of people with disabilities goes unchecked.

I didn’t flick the guy in the head. For now, that’s going to have to be big enough.

Pillow Talk

The other night, I turned out the light, then requested HT spoon closer.

“How can I get closer?” he asked.

“I want your molecules, all smashed up against mine,” I said.

He snuggled in a bit more. After about ten seconds of this I had a hot flash. Throwing off the blankets I said,

“Blow on my neck.”

“What?” HT asked.

“Blow on my neck,” I said, my hand holding the hair up off the back of my neck in the dark.

“Did you just say, “Blow on my neck?”


“Blow on your neck?” he asked again, incredulous.

“What part of BLOW ON MY NECK do you not understand?” I implored.

At which point he cracked up. We both did.

He went on, “So if I said something like…lick my elbow…don’t you think you’d ask…what a couple of times?”

I’ll admit, it was a slightly odd request.

But blow he did. Eventually.

We couldn’t stop laughing.

“Shhh…you’re going to wake up the kids.”

Drifting off to sleep, my neck was cool, and my belly hurt from laughing.

It was a really good way to fall asleep.

Friday Rampage of Appreciation

I’m feeling kinda in love with life today. It was the first day of the new homeschool co-op session. I am teaching a Lego class:

Seth preparing borrowed Lego, getting ready for the class (JACKPOT)!

It went well. We worked on two dimensional projects today. We’re going to slip in some architecture concepts, careers in Lego, and lots of challenges, but mostly it is just fun. Lego literally means “play well,” and I plan on sticking with that theme. I am getting a lot of ideas from Lego Quest Kids. I appreciate the website so much! If you have Lego lovers in your house I highly recommend it for ideas.

Seth's creation (MJ-because obsessions aren't just for Asperger's)

Hot Toddy has arranged his schedule so he can come to co-op most days

In the afternoon block, Riley is taking a puzzles and games class. They did some brain teasers, then moved onto a charades type of game, and in the middle of it, she dismissed me. She did the “come here” motion with her index finger and whispered in my ear,

“Mom. I don’t think I need you in here.”

It was awesome!

I let her go to a scrap booking class last session by herself (me out in the hall within earshot) because it was small. Just one other kid, and two instructors. This class had about eight kids. She did great, even getting up and doing the charades, and dealing with it when people weren’t guessing what she was acting out. I held my breath for a second…she was clearly feeling worried and on the spot, but she got through it on her own. It was after that, when she gloriously gave me the boot.

Also this week….Riley’s Spanish tutor is 70. She has taught homeless men, juvenile delinquents, those with dementia, and those with autism. She uses art and music. She told me she prayed for just the right client and here Riley is. This sweet woman stood in front of me and told me my child is the answer to her prayer. Any parent would love that, but this mom, who remembers her darling girl getting kicked out of preschool…it balms those wounds. We all want our kids to be included and loved.

We had homeschool book group this week. Such a great group of 8-10 year olds. We read Frindle, by Andrew Clements, about a boy who has the idea of inventing his own word. The kids were so enthusiastic and I have to say they stay on subject better than the adults in most of the books groups I have been in! Various moms take turns hosting at their houses (we don’t have it at our house because of cat allergies) and I lead the discussion. The best of both worlds for me. I get to lead the book group, which I love, but don’t have to clean for the occasion!

Speaking of “the best of both worlds,” this is the phrase I have coined for going to bed, backing up to Todd in a spoon position, stealing his body heat. He falls asleep while I read. We get to snuggle. I get to read. It’s “the best of both worlds.” One of life’s greatest blessings.

Okay, I’m gonna wrap it up before I make you gag if it’s not already too late.

May you have a beautiful and blessed weekend.

Lovingly yours,


Fill in the ________.

One of the songs we are doing in Windsong this season is called Stand. One of the lyrics in Stand is…

“It starts with a whisper, the smallest I am.”

When we were working on this song in rehearsal my friend Jan scribbled, on a piece of paper, “That line reminds me of Horton Hears a Who.” (Of course she did this when Karen our director was working with a different section…we second sopranos are always paying attention at rehearsal).

I scribbled back “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”

Jan scribbled back,

“A person’s a person, no matter how _________.”

Fill in the blank.


And since we’re on a Dr. Seuss roll, the following is an e-mail exchange between HT and I last night.

He worked evening shift yesterday, and earlier I had whipped up a nice dinner for him(not a daily occurrence but he sure appreciates it when it happens), packed it up and sent him off to work. Later, I received this e-mail:

I ate my dinner and it was delish. Thank you very much. I appreciate you so very much and think you are the greatest. I hope you have a good night and I’ll talk to you later.

I replied with this:

Would you love me on a boat?

Would you love me on a float?

Would you love me though I bloat?

He shot back:

I would love you on a boat, on a float, and in a moat. I would love you on a train, in the rain or on a trip to Spain.

Note the glossing over of the bloat situation.

Well played, Todd O’Neil.


It had been a long week. Too many appointments. Not enough down time. HT had to work the weekend, and yesterday I woke, not quite wanting to climb back into my life.

“When is your next day off?” I mumbled to him.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

I closed my eyes and nodded. Good.

“It just happens to coincide with your next day off,” he added.

With that, I hoisted myself into our day.

It was a big one for Riley. She’d been invited to a party and was going unaccompanied by me. I had to skip chorus to be available at a moment’s notice. I love chorus and quietly resented missing it. But she is not invited to many parties, and this one was with a mom I trust implicitly. It was a good one for her to forge on her own. Still, if she had a hard time I did not want the mom to have to deal with it, and take away from her enjoyment of her daughter’s party. I was on call, just down the street.

Seth and I stayed home, had rare and precious one-on-one time. We made snacks. We watched a movie, all snuggled up together with Yippee the Chihuahua and Sam the cat on his chest, together in perfect harmony. (Yippee usually chases Sam). We also got Seth started on his second oil painting. This time he’s painting the same thing he painted last time. Another portrait of Yippee. From a different angle. A profile. What can I say? He’s passionate about his puppy.

Riley did beautifully at the party, BTW. She had fun. Not enough can be made of that.

So today is my “day off,” though I do have to coach Girls on the Run later. I went for a long walk this morning over crunchy snow. It felt good to have the sun shine on my face. Forget sunscreen. I just want to feel it beaming into my skin at this point in winter. Suck up that vitamin D.

Despite the lovely time with Seth, by last night I was feeling caged in. I get that way often enough. Not so much since Todd changed his schedule and is no longer working a 7 day in a row shift. But there it was. This feeling of a total “disappearance” of me.

I firmly believe I’d be a better mother if I could get out of here and work part-time. We have not yet been able to figure out how that would be possible with Todd’s all-over-the-place work schedule, and our kids who can’t be left with just anyone.

I know it’s all relative. Some women wish they could stay home with their kids. Do I have a right to my feelings, anyhow?

The other day a FB friend complained about her  kids being home from school, (snow day or such)and how it interfered with her work at home schedule, and it hit a nerve. I wanted to yell through cyber-space BUT YOUR KIDS CAN GO TO SCHOOL, CAN’T THEY? THEY’RE HEALTHY,RIGHT? YOU DO HAVE AN AMAZING CAREER, DON’T YOU?”

Again, it’s all relative, she has a right to her feelings too. Of course she does.

The grass is always greener. No path is perfect.

Very few men have to juggle work around their kids. I feel victimy about it sometimes, but I know men have their own vulnerabilities and pain. Todd would actually love to be a stay at home dad. Working in a hospital pharmacy is not his dream, no matter how good at it he is.

Today on my walk, I visualized the life I want. If I could choose it out of a catalog, what my schedule would look like, what the kids would be doing, etc. How much time I would need to really feel a balance between being me and making sure their all encompassing needs are met.

We’re really not so far off.

It’s possible.

Seeing it is important.

Appreciating all we do have, is the key to unlock the door.

And so…off I go to do my daily rampage of appreciation.

Ciao. May you have a beautiful day.


The only thing better than being a boy obsessed with Lego, and having a new Lego to put together…

is when your sister, whom you adore, suddenly, inexplicably, begins sharing your interest with you.

Here they are, beginning to work on one of Seth’s Christmas presents. We like to space things out. Save some for a snowy day. Seth is so happy she is playing Lego with him. Letting him lead. He is the Lego expert you know.

In other news, Riley hugged HT the other day. She is not a cold unaffectionate person by any means, and always allows our affection, but it was the first time she spontaneously hugged him, and he could not wait to tell me. It’s one of those things an outsider just does not get. If you were hanging out with us, you wouldn’t assume she’d never hugged her dad on her own before. It would be a given for most kids.

My dear friend’s husband died when her son was just five. She says, one of the hardest parts has been…the feeling of there not being another person who knows stuff like this. Shared intimate moments about your kid. Only Todd and I know what Riley looked like the morning when she was six months old, and he returned from a business trip and we lay in bed, and she showed him how she had learned to clap while he was away.

Only the two of us remember when Seth used to say, Yi Yuv You Yie-yee, (I love you Riley).

So when he tells me she hugged him, I get it. The depth of it, reflected in the glint of his eyes as he smiles.

When she shares her brother’s interest, we know what a big deal it is.We’ll remember it.

The gift of autism, for us, is we don’t tend to take things for granted.

I mean, sometimes we do, but typically we don’t.

She makes our lives so much richer.

Just ask her dad.

Standing in Another Hollywood-istic Place

Just over two hours ago I woke my husband from a sound sleep and told him I couldn’t take it anymore.

Riley had been sick all night, (tummy trouble associated with autism)and though he took the first shift, and was up ’til 2AM, by 5AM I was spent. Because not only is she sick, she can’t deal with the sensory issues of being sick, so she cries and moans, and ruminates on every bad feeling and worries and worries and worries and worries and worries, and worries and worries and worries and worries and I have spent so much time on the bathroom floor with this kid lately, flu bugs, and colds and now this, and my body is cold and achey and I lose compassion and feel the years being taken off my life because everything is just so much HARDER than it is for most, at least typical kids, and on and on, sinking my own self into despair.

And here’s the thing about Todd. I can come in and wake him when he himself has only had three hours of sleep, and I can say things any other person on the planet would judge and condemn me for. Things mothers should not say.  And he can look right through it and know my heart, and tell me he gets it, and it’s okay, and then two minutes after I cry and blow my nose and get it out, I can have him cracking up laughing…goading him to tell me whom he would tell to F off, right now if he could. And he indulges me.

And it’s after all this, I can put things in perspective, and remember the absoutely great day Riley and I had, and be grateful, so very grateful, to be her mom.

She had her first professional manicure yesterday (and I got a pedi). She was so cute reading People Magazine. Searching for Glee characters, and she found them.

She chose two glittery shades and was pleased,

“I feel like a celebrity,” she said, admiring her nails. Sorry for the blur.

Then we were hungry so we went to a restaurant, and had the good fortune to witness a man propose to his sweetheart at the very next table. We clapped! And then Riley whispered to me,

“Isn’t she a little young to be getting engaged?”

She was. Good eye Riley.

She had a gift card to Justice Just for Girls, a Christmas present from her grandparents so we went there. The ever so helpful girls who work there, asked every two minutes if they could assist us. Trying be polite and make conversation, I mentioned to one, “She has a gift card burning a hole in her pocket.”

Riley leaned in, looked the salesgirl in the eye and said, “She doesn’t mean that literally.”

She spent a nice chunk of her gift card and saved some for next time.

From there we went to Charming Charlies and she bought even more accessories, cause the girl is all about accessories lately.

I love when Riley makes up her own words, which she did here after trying on this headband, “I feel very Hollywood-istic.”


We spent less than $25.00 at Charming Charlies and she got a whole lot of bling. She even tried some of it on her dad.

So at 5AM, I might have been stretched to my cold achey limit, but I can look back several hours and stand in a another place. I know I have linked to this video before, but I do it again, because I need to be reminded of it.

Special needs kids have it harder. Special needs parents do too. But we also get the amazing highs over things parents of typicals take for granted. No one has ever been more in love with their kid than I was yesterday on our first girly girl mani pedi shopping day.

Bliss. Because a couple of years ago, she never could have stepped into a nail salon due to the smell.

Stand in another place.
Stand in another place.
Stand in another place.

In this minute, you may feel like crap, but you won’t always.

Thank you Todd. Thank you, thank you.

And Riley,

I do so love being your mom.

Valentine’s Day

HT didn’t have to work today and it afforded us a few moments in bed together before going downstairs to greet the kids who were already up.

He wrapped his arm around me, and absentmindedly I stroked it.

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” I said.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t get you anything either.”

“Not even a card?”

“Nope,” he said.

“Promise?” I asked.


“Good. Me too.”

We lay there for a few moments, and then he said,

“You have the nicest touch.”

I smiled. He loves when I run my fingers over his skin. A simple arm rub is so appreciated.

A minute later he said, “I thought about getting you a gift certificate for a massage.”

“That counts,” I say, then add…

“And I rubbed your arm.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

We’re good.

We gave the kids chocolate Valentine lollipop hearts. They were thrilled.

I used his time off to completely de-clutter the bedroom. He dealt with the children all day. Our bedroom has never looked better. All organized and neat. Candles everywhere.

Evening. We ordered take out from a local pub, and forced the children to early bed so we could have our dinner, in peace.

I got a portabella mushroom sandwich(with blue cheese on ciabatta bread..with a Raging Bitch beer). He got a jalapeno burger, no bun, ice water. Fries, we split. Him catsup, me honey mustard for dipping.

We had a wonderful heavy deep and real conversation in which I apologized for not being able to handle it when he gets fearful about money. After all, I get to be fearful about lots of things, and he never shuts me down.

After we were done eating, he excused himself to take care of a pile of papers on the computer desk in the living room. That pile has been bugging me forever.

“Your Valentine’s Day present,” he said jokingly.

I go to the computer and begin writing.

There is really nothing better he could have given me.

Unique business cards and other things….

Check out these unique business cards at

Very clever.

I love clever.

I love so many things. I love Seth in the next room singing Michael Jackson’s PYT. I love how I slept really late today. I’m not even gonna tell you how late; it’s embarrassingly decadent.

HT works the evening tonight and he snuck out of our room this morning…turning the fan on high…to block out all noise for me. We take turns doing this for each other every chance we get. If you can’t have two partners well rested, one parent well rested is good. Better than both tired. We can hold each other up.

You know what else is clever? This:, Life lessons from 40 movies.

Off to the homeschool co-op, where I am teaching a class on dogs. Today we’re contrasting and comparing human body language, and canine body language. There will be role playing. There will be demos on personal space.

The public school was concerned kids might be terrified of Jingle. And a few might have been, but what an opportunity for them to have learned not all dogs are scary. It doesn’t get much less threatening than Ms. Jingle.

Che sarà sarà.

Things have a way of working out,

exactly as they’re supposed to.

When I stop trying to force things

and just let go.

Maybe I’ll make some new business cards this weekend.

Michelle O’Neil
She does her best to goes with the flow

Because we’re all important enough to have our own cards, right?

Yippee for HT

Emotional roller coaster week for Riley. She’s still not quite back to her baseline. So much screaming.

It feels like the family is holding on by a thread. Actually, Seth is seeming quite okay, but he’s gone a lot at school. He’s begging to be homeschooled next year too, but man little buddy, you might just need the break.

Riley’s cello teacher finally came out and said it; she doesn’t feel qualified to teach her. She thinks a different instrument would be better. Like piano. She’s taught cello for decades, and decades, but she can’t teach my girl. I feel like laughing one of those crazy laughs, one that might turn into a cry, but just hangs on maniacally instead.

So many people think we are making a big deal out of nothing with this kid. Let her be! She’s FINE! She’ll be FINE! You hover! I just don’t seeee it?

It’s the teachers who get it though. The teachers understand what we are dealing with. The slightest bit of constructive criticism is cause for self flagellation. This week at cello she had three meltdowns (in a half hour) and crawled under a piano to hide. All because the teacher was making minor adjustments regarding her bow grip and finger placement. In a kind voice.

At clay class today, Todd (he had the pleasure, since he was off work) had to take her out in the hall three different times. The last time, as he was trying to talk her off the cliff, out of the corner of his eye, he noted Jingle starting to squat. She proceeded to have diarrhea right there in the hall.

Insert Todd’s maniacal laugh.

The good news is, it jolted Riley out of her meltdown. The bad news is, there wasn’t a paper towel on the premises, so Todd had to make several trips down a long hallway to a bathroom and sop it up with toilet paper.

Three cheers for Todd.

Earlier in the week, at a local park, Riley was trying to climb and it was not a good climbing day. She was on the play structure screaming, and we were trying to give her space to let her work it through (but that never quite happened). It was unseasonably cold. I was shivering and Todd said…, wait for it…

“I’m freezing my yippee off.”

A new term. Folks, this is what happens when you suppress your God given drive to swear. Let this be a warning. 

And another HT anecdote, just to cheer me up from the cello bomb, is this:  At the end of church service the congregation joins hands in a circle and sings Let There Be Peace On Earth (and let it begin with me…). Well,Todd is really only used to holding hands with me or the kids, and he absentmindedly, inadvertently locked fingers with the grown man next to him. It took a couple of beats, but this suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and he had to rather awkwardly extract his digits and switch to the regular fingers/palm hand holding position. He told me about the whole fiasco later.

I don’t know why I find this so funny, but I do. There is a hand holding etiquette, no? I wouldn’t be locking fingers with just anyone, that’s for sure.

“You’re not writing about yippee, are you?” he asks as he sees me chuckling and tap tap tapping on the keyboard. I’ve been threatening to out yippee all week.

“Not only that,” I say.

He pauses at the bottom of the steps, sighs, and says,

“Write whatever you want if it gets you smiling again.”

Then, he turns and walks up the steps toward bed.

For those of you who think HT is soooo wonderful…

He’s recently kicked me, and punched me in the head.

The other night, he got in late, and I was already blissfully asleep. I roused a little when I felt him get into bed, and began to scoot backward toward him to cuddle up. At the exact moment I scooted, he swung his knee forward, delivering a solid blow to my left flank, delivering a wicked charlie horse…this when I was still half asleep.

When I howled in pain, he proceeded to laugh. But not just any laugh. You see, his mouth was taped. So the laugh was all “pltghwwwt-hem-hem-hemplugfttt.”

My butt hurt for two days.

He has yet to apologize.

In fact, in a classic case of blaming the victim, he accuses me of “scooting too forcefully.”

A few nights later, we were lying in bed, talking before turning out the light. He was lying on his back, right forearm resting on his forehead. He turned to the left, in response to something I said, and brought the arm with him, misjudging how close I actually was (or so he says) and clocked me in the side of the head with his fist.

Again with the laughter, although this time no tape. 

Bed should be a safe place, don’t you think?

Is that too much to ask?

Good Men (no fooling)

Forgot to post this.

The night of the school dance, I got the kids in the car, then realized I forgot my camera. I went back inside to get it, and came out to find this little man, attempting to scrape my windows.


He could barely reach the windshield, but he’s seen his dad clean off my car plenty of times. He saw the need, and wanted to help. I’m sure Todd watched his dad do the same when he was a little guy. 

I so appreciate those little acts of thoughtfulness. 

I love my guys.

The Fashion Police

hanna montana

So this is my new favorite t-shirt. I got it at Target. I thought the image was interesting, and it was on sale for just four bucks! Plus, it is the softest cotton I have ever felt. HT is a bit unnerved by the image. He thinks it’s probably some teeny-bopper I have no clue about, and he fears I’m embarrassing myself wearing it.

He’s taken to calling it my “Hannah Montana” shirt.

Did I mention how soft it is?

If loving Hannah Montana is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

A Wicked Good Night

Why is this couple smiling?

A) A cute little blond haired boy is taking their picture.

B) They got to *sleep in* this morning while their kids brains slowly melted away in front of the television.

C) They are on their way out the door to the theater.

D) All of the above. 


The correct answer is D.

Last night we left the kids with a sitter, and jaunted off to see Wicked. Rumor has it Cleveland boasts the second largest theater district outside of NYC. Don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what I hear.

This is a photo of the ceiling in the lobby of The State Theater.  As you can see, it is quite fancy.  I wouldn’t dream of taking a photo inside the theater. A “Red Coat” might get me, and then I’d have hell to pay. You don’t want to mess with a Red Coat.  

This is HT coming back from the men’s room.

He’s looking a little embarrassed because some lady he doesn’t know is snapping his picture. Once he got up close he recognized me. It’s been a while since he’s seen me in make-up, and clothing other than sweats.

Our seats were great. We enjoyed the show. Particulary Loathing and Popular,  and of course For Good. The leads were well matched and the sets were amazing. During intermission, I got to educate HT on “steampunk,” since the set is so steampunk-ish. He was dazzled with my knowledge. 

We bothed thanked Goddess we didn’t bring the children. They would have been terrified. Our kids are still pretty sheltered re: entertainment. (Riley recently sobbed over a small sword fight cheek gashing incident at the end of The Princess Bride. In no way could she have handled this production).

The show is the wispiest version of the meatiness that is Wicked, the book. Entirely different but altogether enjoyable.

Riley and Seth as always, had a ball with their favorite baby-sitter. She’s kind of our only baby sitter. Yes, our lives hang precariously on the availability of a busy 14 year old. On weekends, we put an air mattress in Riley’s room, and Seth sleeps in there. They talk and talk until one of them falls asleep. Despite the fact Riley has the comfiest bed in the house, this is how we found them when we came home last night. That’s Riley under the blanket. They are both on the air mattress.

The only thing better than going out, is coming home.

Todd O’Neil, and His Partner Michelle O’Neil!

Today at Whole Foods, HT and I parked in the upstairs ramp. We took the stairs, rather than the elevator. It’s a big staircase which opens up into a giant produce department.

“Can we pretend we’re on Dancing With the Stars?” I asked as we started our decent.

He linked his arm in mine. 

“Todd O’Neil, and his partner, Michelle O’Neil.”

We strutted down the steps like we owned the place. Smiling, nodding.

Like we’re headed to the semi-finals!

Like we’ve got it in the bag!

Don’t be fooled by my sweat pants. A couple of measures in we’re going to tear them off to reveal a skimpy, fringe laden, glittery costume.

Awwww yeah.

His shirt is coming off.

It’s Monday after his 7th day on. After a brutal week on the home front. Tonight it’s the Thai that binds us. Thai food that is. Take out. Every other Monday.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy. 

And now!

(Cue the red lights and the heart beat).

Revealing what I love…in no particular order…Thai food…Dancing With the Stars…and Todd.

(What? You expected me to go a whole season without a Dancing With the Stars reference? Surely you jest)!

He Left Me High and Dry!

I’m driving. We pull into the Whole Foods parking lot, he’s going to run in quick for milk.

“Is there anything else we need?” he asks.

“Well. The kids want to make apple crisp. I’ll need some….let’s see. I’ll need brown sugar, and oats and butter and apples. Organic sugar and apples.”

“How much of this stuff do you need?” he asks, hand on the car door.  

Turning to look at him I smirk, “Well, I need some brown sugar, and some oats, and enough apples.”

I freely admit it. I say it this way to infuriate him. I never go by exact measurements. He has to follow directions to a capital T.

Driving out to the vet for the dog (where we’d been before stopping at Whole Foods), I’d scribbled directions on the back of a receipt. If he’d been in charge, he’d have printed out a set on Map quest, and an alternative set. He likes to know exit numbers. Gets shaky if he doesn’t have an exit number. He likes to know exact point to point mileage.  

“How are we even married?” he asks.

There is a long pause, and then I reply,

“You my friend, lucked out.”

It was fun, but now I have to go back to the store today to get my stuff.

Shower for One

I came around the corner of the kitchen and Todd was there. 

Hugging him I said, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

He kept the hug momentum going and we stood there a few seconds.

“I’m sorry you’re such a sissy,” I sighed.

“Huh?” he asked.

“If you weren’t, then we could take a shower together,” I said, resting my head against his shoulder. 

He kissed the top of my head.

“I’m sorry you like to scald yourself.”

He squeezed me tighter and added,

“I’m sorry you like first degree burns.”  

 We laughed!

And then I headed upstairs to shower, alone.