See, when I went to my writers retreat back in November, a friend asked me what I was working on. I told her (and it’s the same thing I was working on last year) and she said, “You’ll do it. You are an accomplisher.”

Accomplisher? She obviously hasn’t seen the pink walls in my son’s room.

I’ve thought about that a lot. (About what she said, not the pink walls. Although, I’ve thought about them a lot, too). I don’t know if it’s actually true. I want it to be true, though. I want it enough that my goal for this entire year is to finish things. My house is littered with half-baked ideas and partly-done projects and big plans. I’m a wonderful starter, but I don’t always finish things like I should.

What I need is a coach. A hard-nosed, show-no-mercy coach that will tell me to sweep the leg on those projects and finish them!

(Here’s where I found the shirt, in case you want to buy one.)

Okay, not really. That guy, he’s super freaky. Actually, the type of coach I need is a Mr. Miyagi. I need to build the habits of finishing (waxing, sanding, painting–wait, some of that is really true) in order to come out accomplisher.

I’m starting small. Writing every day. Setting deadlines, and actually putting them on the calendar. We’ll see how my accomplishing muscles are growing in a few weeks. I’ve already got five organized drawers, two clean cupboards, and over 4,000 new words on my manuscript to show for it.

Now please excuse me while I go work on my secret weapon: the crane.

We slept in late, then went outside to play.

Despite cold noses and red cheeks, we enjoyed snowball fights,

finding and uncovering (then re-covering) the drains,

and making snow angels in the middle of the street.

The next day, while we were excited to be out of school, we were sad trees that used to be upright were now lying down on the ground.

All the trees were covered with about an inch of ice.

The power had been out since early that morning, which necessitated a lot of barking on my part. (“Close the door! You’re letting out the heat!” “Close the fridge! You’re letting out the cold!”)

Though it looks amazingly beautiful, it is also amazingly destructive.

Trees and branches were down all over town. The sight of fresh scars marking tree after tree was sad and frightening. My car was also completely encased in ice, but I hadn’t wanted to drive anywhere. Too many big trees line the roads.

This is my house. Notice the trees behind it. I shiver now a little bit just remembering. I’ve read books before about the way trees breaking sounds like a gunshot. I (oh so thankfully) didn’t hear any cracks from those giants behind my home, but every crash as snow was displaced made me a bit jumpy.

The kids stayed in and we hunkered down, enjoying hot water and the fireplace, as well as candles. (In my opinion, the candles were enjoyed a little too much by my children, as is evidenced by the plate covered in wax, which happened while the kids were “helping” keep the candles lit.)

Our power was restored after another half day.

I’m so grateful for warmth! I’m so grateful for ovens to make food hot! I’m so grateful for friends who checked up on me and brought me hot food, despite the treacherous conditions.

The temperature has finally warmed up enough that most of the snow has melted, but there are still people without power. In fact, church today has been moved to a different building because ours is still powerless.

Unfortunately for me, they still want me to speak. You can’t win ‘em all.

Fingers crossed for school to be in session tomorrow. We’ve just about run out of things to do and are ready to turn on each other like a pack of wolves, but I trust it won’t go that far.

Hopefully.

Except there was some trouble. Because I ended up reading two books, and only two things got crossed off the list.

I decided I needed to really buckle down today, get unpacked, and clean those bathrooms!

As I was getting ready, I decided to do my hair a little differently than normal. Short hair takes a lot more maintenance hair-cut-wise than long hair. Since I’ve been out of town for almost two weeks, I had to put off my regular five-week trim (it’s on Tuesday, thank goodness).

Anyway, I used some hair oil and tried for the sleek look. (I think now is the time for me to admit that I may not be a ‘sleek look’ type person.) It ended up being rather formal, so I put on some make-up in order to match my hair a little better. (I think now is the time for me to admit that it didn’t really work.) In my misguided enthusiasm, I decided to give Red Salsa another try.

Which I guess is why whenever I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I scrubbed down the bathrooms, I startled like someone had just dropped a stack of plates on the floor unexpectedly.

Scary.

Happy New Year!

And yet I blog.

Here’s my little redhead on Christmas Eve, trying on the stockings.

The next day, he was a bear. Merry Christmas! If any cousins got within a four-foot radius of him or his toys, he would scream, “Nooooo!” with his hands on his cheeks. (Several days later I took him to the doctor and found out he had a double ear infection, which could have been part of the bearishness.)

Also, he ate a lot of candy and not much food that morning. I tried, but couldn’t even get him to eat toast, which is usually his favorite. Add in his autism and the disruption of his normal routine by being in a different place with different people, and church was pretty much a disaster.

By the time I’d been hit and head-butted and a cause for general distraction amongst the congregation, I was ready to pull the plug. Finis. The hall for the rest of the meeting.

The final musical number began just as he slipped from my grasp once again. I sighed. Do I run after him? This was where I weighed the disruption he was causing in the aisle to the probable disruption he would cause after I grabbed him. The grabbing side was winning when I heard two violins soar above and through the argument my brain was having with itself.

I was going to write, “Now, the violin is not my favorite instrument.” That’d be a true statement. But then I tried to figure out what was, and I didn’t really know. What I do know is that whenever I hear someone playing an instrument with not only skill but with feeling, it’s almost like magic.

This violin duet was like that for me.

I got chills.

I had a hard time breathing.

I started to cry.

It wasn’t until the song was almost over that I remembered I had a child who might be disturbing people in his path. I looked over and saw him stretched out in the aisle six or seven rows ahead. He was on his back, completely still, listening.

When the last notes died away, he brought his hands together several times in silent applause.

Magic.

I’m grateful for my brother and sister-in-law for letting me come to their house for Thanksgiving.

I’m grateful for this kid:

And this kiddo:

And this one, too:

They all three kept me from missing my own little ones too much on Thanksgiving. And I still got to see my Oregon peeps a week later, so that worked out very well for me.

I’m grateful for these parents (even as I wish it were a better-executed photo, I still like their happiness):

Especially that Mom, who came home with me for a week to visit and help me get ready for the baptism.

And I’m grateful for this girl:

For making me laugh,

And for laughing with me.

I’m so grateful for her strong spirit and desire to do what’s right. There’s nothing quite like the glow of your own child when they’ve just been baptized.

I hope each of you are experiencing joy and gratitude for all the good-busy things this Christmas season.

Here are some November highlights:

Part time glasses (I just can’t get enough.)

A retreat for writers (fabulous, as usual!)

A rock concert (this is before they went on–my picture with the band in it was much farther away and pretty crummy. This experienced proved I am kind of old to go to a rock concert [my feet were killing me by the end of the night] and that abnormally tall people always, always, always stand right in front of the short girls.)

A birthday (Rainbow is eight–where does the time go?)

Another rock concert (check out my girls dancing front and center!)

A birthday party (eight really is great at our house, since that’s when you finally get a friend party)

A preschool Thanksgiving feast (please tell me you love the smile drawn on the turkey as much as I do)

A potty-trained boy playing the Wii (That’s right. I said potty-trained.)

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

Life has been busy. The November page on the calendar mocks my white-space-lovin’ brain, even as I try to convince it that “These are all FUN things!” But, to quote my sister-in-law Dina, “Making memories takes a lot of work.” So even though there are a lot of fun things in November, it’s taking a lot of work to make them happen.

Pictured above is Eden in her Veterans’ Day assembly. I listened to those kids sing, “God Bless Our Troops” and just cried. Today, my kids sang about the scriptures and temples during the Primary program, and I sat there and cried. There’s just something about kids singing, I guess.

Anyway, here’s wishing all your busy days are connected to making a good memories.

I did next to nothing for Halloween this year. It was good.

Eden, slated to be a cheerleader, changed her mind at the last minute. Luckily we had this raccoon (?) costume (?). And even more luckily, Eden’s mom is practically a professional make-up artist (?).

Rainbow saw this fuzzy ladybug costume at Goodwill and fell in love. There was no turning back.

Zack decided to be Will Treaty, hero of The Ranger’s Apprentice book series. He seems to favor the more obscure references in his Halloween costumes.

He’s working on his Halt impression.

The irony doesn’t escape me about a kid with OI dressing up as a skeleton . . . Colby didn’t trick-or-treat too much. He’s already learned that staying home and dipping freely into the candy bowl is the way to go.

Hope you and yours had a fun Halloween. Now, to quote a friend, we can get going on the real holidays.

So let me tell you what’s been going on around here.

A week ago Friday, I had the opportunity to design someone’s wedding flowers. It was fabulous and fun (and I unfortunately neglected to take pictures) and kind of stressful. I mean, it’s only one of the most important days of a person’s life. Get over it, right?

Anyway, I blocked out all of Friday to work on them and ended up spending some time on them Saturday morning as well. I heard the bride was pleased, which is always a good thing.

Later on Saturday, I had rehearsal for a choir I was singing in on Sunday for a special musical fireside for Relief Society. Lots of fun, but lots of kid juggling at the same time.

Sunday was the fireside itself—except I forgot to say I was also playing a bassoon solo. Correct: you don’t hear that every day. I was a little [lot] stressed, seeing as how my performance chops (not to mention my reed) were not exactly up to par. However, it went fine. According to the compliments I received, there are a lot of closet bassoon lovers in my stake. Who knew?

Monday bright and early we dropped off Eden and Colby at my friend’s house (Tami, you are a saint) and took Zack and Rainbow to Seattle Children’s for their tri-yearly pamidronate infusions.

I should probably mention at this point that Zack came home from the neighbors’ house Sunday evening, minutes before I had to leave for the fireside. He said, “I think I broke my hand.” Not exactly the words I like to hear any time, but in particular when I’m already freaking about playing in front of a chapel full of people.

Let me digress here. We get a lot of “I think I broke my fill-in-the-blank” around my house. That general anxiety about breaking bones whenever anything painful happens is part of living with OI. (Maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel like a better mom. You be the judge after you hear this next part.)

I had him wiggle his fingers. I had him bend his hand. It hurt. I asked how it happened.  (He over-rocked on the rocking chair and went forward, catching himself along the the top of his left hand knuckles.) I said, “Well, let’s tape it together and put an ice pack on it and see how it feels in the morning.”

(Okay, yes. I am ashamed.)

When we got to the hospital (way late–thank you 520 Alaskan Viaduct closure or whatever it was), they were able to call up an orthopedist to look at it before we started. He said, “We’ll splint it now so you can do your infusion, then come down for an x-ray.”

We got Rainbow hooked up and going with hardly a squeak. (It was more of a yell: “OWW!”)

Zack, who has extreme anxiety about needles, did famously. During our last infusion, a child life specialist came and helped us come up with a coping plan for him. Unfortunately (especially for how well Zack was doing), they were unable to get a line in. They tried five (5!) times; they got it into a vein each time, but each time Zack’s body went into super-panic mode (fight or flight!) and his veins clenched up and blew the line. FIVE times. Since the infusion takes four hours each day for three days, we decided at that point to call it quits and add another day on the end.

But it wasn’t really quits, because Zack still had to go down and get an x-ray and (because it was indeed broken) a cast. Despite breaking a rather large number of bones in his 11 years, this is first cast.

The next day they put an anti-anxiety med in with his pre-infusion Tylenol. It definitely didn’t seem to help, as he screamed much more and was visually more upset and anxious than the day before, but they were able to get a good line in.

As per usual, I didn’t handle infusion week all that well. Tired, unfocused, and on the cusp of getting an awful cold, I don’t know that I’m ready for Monday and Halloween. I still feel like I’m suffering from a bit of stress-related ADD—I can’t seem to get anything accomplished other than reading books (and that, my friends, isn’t entirely productive).

Mrs. Olsen sent me a lovely package (I should have taken a photo of the goodness) with lots of delectable food stuffs that I have been living off of for two days. Can I just say Pie in a Jar = Heaven ?

This evening I was able to go to the temple, which I must say was a great way to round out the crazy week with some peace.

And the little camera comes through for me again.

Happy Sunday, everyone.

Anyway, he had been singing on Sunday, “Drain! Dra-a-a-ain!” My brother asked, “Did he have a bad experience in the bathtub?”

They don’t know about the drains? I thought.  

It’s amazing I’ve been so remiss in mentioning it, since it takes up a lot of time and attention around here.

Colby loves drains. Not bathtub drains. Not sink drains. Storm drains.

This picture was taken at the beginning of September, hence the bare feet and warm-looking sunshine.

Colby and I go and “see the drains” almost every day. He gets off the school bus with a big smile on his face—not because he’s reunited with his mama, but because he knows that’s when we go do our rounds.

It’s taken me a long time to figure out what he finds so fascinating about them. And I might be wrong even now, but watching Colby with the drains for months (we spend about 1/2 hour a day with them) I think I might have hit on it.

He doesn’t usually look at them the way he is in this picture. He walks by them, six or eight feet into the street, with his head looking over his shoulder and tilted to one side. He’s looked at things sideways and through the corner of his eye since he was very young. It’s called scanning, and it’s a marker for autism.

One thing Colby has always liked are lines (or “lions” as we sometimes call them) and things that open and close. He’s slightly obsessed with garages. I could buckle him in his car seat, hand him the garage door opener, and he’d be content for an hour. He’ll line cards (or blocks or dominoes or anything with a uniform shape) up and then choose a set to be the doors. He’ll slide them different ways, experimenting with how to open and close them.

When he started getting excited about drains, I thought it was simply the lines that he liked—the grid pattern. Also, he’s always liked water, so I thought that might have something to do with it. I noticed, however, that even though he enjoyed seeing the water go through the gutter and down the drain, he liked them just as well without water.

More completely unscientific observation on my part led me to connect the drains with more than just the lines of the grid.

If you look at the picture of the storm drain, you can see how within each line of the grid, the metal is angled in order to get the water to flow down and inside instead of right over the drain. I noticed one day that if you look at it out of the corner of your eye as you walk by, the angled parts appear to open or close (depending on which direction you’re walking).

Figuring it out doesn’t make me understand it, but at least I feel like I’ve unlocked a little portion of the mystery that makes up my sweet redhead.