Celebrate National Coffee Day with NesCafe & Coffee Mate

It's Saturday morning and of course The Boy is up at 6 am. There is no such thing as 'sleeping in' at Casa de Fontanez. And so when he gets up, I get up. Because if I don't...it usually results in spilled milk, melted ice cream or crushed cheerios.

And the first thing I do when I get up is make a cup of coffee.

I'm a mom who takes my coffee seriously. Because if my coffee isn't made right, my day doesn't feel right. And my coffee needs creamer. I love Coffee Mate's Natural Bliss creamer. It's rich and creamy and I can enjoy my coffee without a lot of guilt.

And mid week, if you're at work and in need of an afternoon pick me up - the NesCafe Memento is the perfect choice. The slim packs fit in a purse or a pocket, making it convenient for the office or school. All you need is a cup and hot water. NesCafe Momento will warm you up on those cool autumn afternoons.

What makes coffee even better? Having coffee with friends so I'm excited that I get to share. I'm giving away a 5 coupons for a FREE bottle of Coffee Mate Natural Bliss cream (16 oz bottle, up to $2.79 coupon void in Colorado, Missouri, Louisiana, Tennesse)  and a box of NesCafe Memento. 

So let's celebrate National Coffee Day and have a cup together.  

How to enter? So easy...Just leave a comment.  

This giveaway will end Saturday October 6th at 11:59pm EST. Winner will be announced on Facebook & Twitter by Monday, October 8th.  Be sure to follow me on twitter @LaliQuin  and/or “Like” the AutismWonderland Facebook page. Winner will have 24 hours to reply.

Disclaimer: I was provided with a complimentary coupons for Coffee Mate Natural Bliss coffee creamer and Nescafe Mememto . All opinions are my own. 

Letting Go of Mainstream Dreams

I've been up since 4 am.  Not by choice.  That's the time The Boy woke up. 

By 5 am, I was up and out of bed.  Threw a load of laundry in the washing machine.  Laced up my running sneakers and headed out the door.  (On Day 4 of excercising)

By 6 am, I was half dressed and packing up The Boy's bookbag for his first day at a new school.

And by 7 am, The Boy's school bus pulled up in front of our building.  I introduced myself to the new driver and matron.  The Boy jumped on the school without looking back or a goodbye kiss.  But The Husband and I called his name and we got the goodbye kisses we needed.  

Walking back up to our building, I started to cry.  I know, I know - I'm a cry baby.

Norrin has been taking the school bus since he was a baby - barely 3 years old.  He's been taking the bus since before he could even talk and while he was still in diapers.  

This is the 3rd school he's been bussed to in the last four 4 years.

You would think I'd be used to it by now.  But it doesn't get easier.  Handing your child over to a stranger for the first time.  And this new school is the farthest The Boy's ever been.  

Don't get me wrong - I LOVE the new school. I'm so happy he's there.  It's the right place for him to be.  

It was just never the place I expected him to be.

When The Boy was diagnosed with autism 4 years ago and we started the therapies - I remember The Husband telling me, "This is just to get him up to speed.  By the time kindergarten starts - he'll be able to go to a regular school."

Because for many parents that's the goal.  Mainstream education.  It's the dream.  

I think there was this tiny part of me that wanted to believe that.        

That's the thing about life down the autism rabbit hole.  You can make peace with it,  embrace it but accept it?  Acceptance is not a one shot deal, it's an on going process.  There will always be something new to accept.

The Boy's kindergarten year came and went.  And the fact is, he couldn't cope in a typical public school.  Even in a classroom of 6 kids.  Even with all the accommodations.  Even with the after school ABA therapists coming to the house 4 days a week.  Even with sensory gym on Saturdays.  The Boy still couldn't truly be successful in a 'regular' public school. Granted The  Boy was set up for failure but this last year was a huge eye opener for me.

So this morning as I waited next to a mother with her 13 year old son - who was also waiting for his yellow mini bus to appear - I realized that The Boy may never go to a school within walking distance. 

The Boy may be 13, 14, 15 years old and will still need me to wait with him for the mini bus to pick him up.  The Boys new school goes to 21 - he will probably be there until that age.  The Boy will probably never have a mainstream education. I have to just let that dream go.  I'm okay with it.  At the end of the day, all I want is for The Boy to be in a place where he can be happy and accepted for what he can do.  I know The Boy's education is about goals not grades. 


And I also know there are plenty of new dreams to be had.               

      

Snooze, Prudes & Fifty Shades of Grey

Sometime during the wee hours of the morning - The Boy jammed his big toe in my eye. Obviously I was sleeping.  He was sleeping.  Being jammed in the eye with a big toe is the kind of thing that wakes me up. Screaming.  Good Morning to me!    


At 5:15 my alarm goes off, but my eye still hurts.  So I hit snooze.  I hit snooze quite a few times.  I finally wake up at 6.   I should probably mention - I keep my alarm clock in the bathroom.  This is to prevent me from snoozing.  


Yesterday I posted a picture of a certain magazine cover.  It caused a bit of nasty on my FB page.  And one of my 'friends' called me a prude.  Me?!  A prude.  The 'friend' also went into full attack mode and called someone else an idiot. We don't all have to agree but I don't like insults. I don't delete much from my page but if you can't play nice, then there's no place for that nonsense on my page.  As for being a prude - please.  I don't care what any woman does with their boobies or how they choose to parent.  But don't you dare equate breast feeding to the quality of mother I am.  But I'll be addressing that magazine cover/article.  Tomorrow.


Speaking of prude...Yesterday The Husband tweeted this:
 

@BobaFont - Is #FiftyShadesofGrey just a modern day #StoryofO or#TheClaimingofSleepingBeauty? And would the Mrs. read it?

Sorry babe, I absolutely have no interest in reading Fifty Shades of Grey.  I just can't bring myself to read it.  And it's not because it's labeled mommy porn.  I mean, I was reading Jackie Collins in the 4th grade.  And I love a good trash book - Peyton Place, Valley of the Dolls.  I've jumped on the bandwagon with Twilight and Hunger Games.  (And I love them!)  


But yesterday a coworker had a copy of Grey and after reading a paragraph - I put it down.  It was just bad.  Badly written.  I walked away from my coworkers desk.  


Twenty minutes later, my coworker came back.  Threw the book on my desk and said read that page.  And I did.  And I "flushed scarlet" and thought, now I get the hype.   


But I'm still not going to read it.  I'm standing my ground.  I'm going to be a total book snob and say, I'm not reading it because it's poorly written.  Because it really is.  


And as someone who writes.  As someone who wants to be published one day (but has been told, it will be more difficult for me to be published because I'm Latina).  As someone who has been writing a historical fiction novel for more than 6 years, I want to support good writing.  And I refuse to give that woman my hard earned money.


Ryan Gosling on the other hand is all about the mommy porn ;)            

And I'd get down and dirty with Ryan any day of the week. 

The Pros/Cons of School Breaks

YAY! The Boy is off from school this week.

BOO! The Boy is off from school this week. 

I know The Boy needs the time away - school is extremely stressful for him.  Not that he's told me.  I just know by the things he says the mornings he has to get ready for school.

But school breaks are also stressful for me too.  I have to arrange for child care because I can't take time off work.  And while I'm extremely lucky to have a great babysitter who adores The Boy.  I still worry.  Because lately The Boy has been really getting into EVERYTHING!  I mean stuff like knives and opening windows...but that's for another blog post.

Anyway this is my pros/cons (short) list of school breaks:       

What's on YOUR list? 

Before I was a Mom

It's another 4 am start to my day. 


There was a lot of crying, whining, pleading and stomping. 


And as for The Boy?  Don't even ask.  Let's just say that The Boy did not have a good morning.  And I'm about ready for my third cup of coffee.

I've stumbled across some pretty interesting blog posts about former jobs.  For those that know me in real life, you know that I've worked all over.  So I decided to link up on the Northwestmommy Monday Listicles.  (Yes, I know it's Tuesday.  But I had my own Monday Meme thing going on.) 

Anyway...the theme this week is the Squashed Mom's idea:
 

Top Ten Strange (odd/unusual/funny/interesting) Jobs you have held in your life 

So without any further adieu, because I know you're just sitting at the edge of your computer chair, here is my list of jobs (some of them, anyway) I had before I was a mom:

10. The Rectory:  When I was in HS I worked at my parish's Rectory (the house where priests live).  I was responsible for answering the phones, polishing the silver, changing the table linens, serving their dinners (a 5 course meal, prepared by their cook) and washing the dishes.  There was one afternoon that I will never forget.  It was the afternoon when a young girl died in the church - she committed suicide over a boy (I'm speculating).  That Monday at school, I learned it was a classmate, a girl I had known since the third grade.  We made our first communion together.  There is a lot more to this story but that story isn't meant for here.  

9. Oaktree:  Most of you probably won't remember or know of this store.  But it was a mall store.  It wasn't my first retail job, but my first retail job where I was a manager.  It was a a young men's clothing store.  Just think early 90s - muscle tees and silky slacks.  I spent many afternoons helping mothers pick out graduation or prom suits for their sons.  I don't know why, but thinking about those afternoons makes me a little sad.  I wonder if The Boy will ever need such a suit.  

8. Cocktail Waitress: While I was working at Oaktree, I also worked nights as a cocktail waitress at a night club in Queens.  I learned 3 valuable lessons while waitressing: (1) if you have no intentions of tipping your waitress get up and order your own drink, (2) getting drunk and throwing up in a public bathroom before midnight is absolutely pathetic and (3) if a man complains about the strength of his drink, back away as he may just throw his drink at your feet. 
  
7. Nine West: My 2nd retail management job.  It seems odd that I would work at a women's shoe store considering how much I can't stand the sight of feet.  But I did get a lot of free shoes.  And that's always nice. 

6. The Gap:  My 3rd and last retail management job.  I met The Boy's godfather working here.  And I also met a young woman whose name I will always remember.  But I won't use it here, even though I haven't seen in her in more than a decade.  So I'll call her Janet.  Janet must have been 19, maybe 20.  She was pregnant and working part time at The Gap.  She was also homeless and living in a woman's shelter.  (She was kicked out of her home after she got pregnant.)  Janet never called out sick, she was always available to work an extra shift.  She never complained.  Ever.  On the day she gave birth, she took time to call out sick.  (Even though there was no need, we all knew the day was coming and would assume, if she didn't show up - she was having the baby.)  She returned to work four weeks after giving birth but by then I was transfered to another store.

5. Coat Check girl:  Another nightclub job - pretty self explanatory.  Believe it or not, this job was pretty stressful, well more annoying than anything.  Why?  Several reasons.  (1) People always always always leave crap in their pockets then want to return several times during the course of the night to "get something quick," (2) People will ask your whether or not they need to tip you and (3) People will yell at you at the end of the night because they're drunk and have lost their tickets.  You'd be surprised how many people think they are the only ones who wore a black leather coat out to the club.  

4. Hostess/Cashier:  I won't say the name of the club.  Let's just say, Howard Stern liked this place (a lot).  But for almost 2 years I worked at an upscale gentleman's club as the hostess.  Charging men an obscene amount of money just to walk in the door.  Many of the dancers  entertainers were mothers.  And I wonder now, how many of them had special needs kids?       

3. Cosmetics Girl:  While I was working nights as a Hostess, I was working days at a cosmetic counter at Macys Herald Square.  (I hate Herald Square.)  It was the only job I was ever fired from.  I just couldn't bring myself to do consulations or make-up applications.  It was my fault really,  why would I take a job that required me touch a strangers face?  I couldn't bring myself to do it.   

2. Receptionist:  And after a few years of job jumping, I returned to corporate (I used to be a messenger at a really stuffy bank).  This would be the job that truly changed the course of my life.  It's where I met The Husband.     

1. Legal Secretary:  After I quit job the job that changed my life, I went across the street to a new job.  I was a married woman by this time but children were no where on the agenda.  And then one of the secretaries got pregnant and on the afternoon of the office baby shower, we started talking.  And I started talking about the kind of mother I'd be and the kind of child I would have and how I would raise this unborn child.  When I think about my idea of motherhood, I have to laugh.  I was wrong in every single possible way.


Before I was a mom, I thought these were toughest jobs imaginable.  HA!  Being a mom, is so much harder than I ever imagined.  It's more demanding and more stressful than every single job on this list multipled by a hundred a thousand.

But for me, it's the only job that really matters.     

What did you do before you were a mom? 
 

 

My Idea of Progress

At six a.m. I'm standing at the kitchen sink washing last nights pots and pans.  The water is running and I hear the toilet seat slam.  The pitter patter of his fat flat feet slapping against the parquet floor.  And then the crash of legos. 

Sigh...The Boy is up.

I finish washing the dishes and pour my cup of coffee, though I suspect it will be cold by the time I return to it.  

I walk down the hall and look into the bathroom, the stepstool is in front of the toilet.  That's strange, I think.  

The Boy is in his room, playing with his legos and instantly I notice his diaper is off.  (because the least of my concerns is night time potty training.)  But his pj shorts are on.  

"Good morning...did you poop?"  I ask.  

"Noooo."

"Are you sure?"

"Noooo.  Yes!"

I shake my head and peak in the back of his pants.  Lucky me!  I get a morning surprise.  I take The Boy by the hand and take him into the bathroom.  I notice The Boy:

• discarded his diaper (as in put it in the garbage can);
• pooped in the toilet; and
• put his shorts back on (the right way).  

So what if he didn't flush.  So what if he didn't wash his hands.  And so what if he didn't wipe. 

He'll get all those extra steps...eventually.

THIS, my friends, is what I call progress!  And The Boy got a "nice try" and a high five!  Then I gave him a bath and threw away his poopy shorts.  (Maybe I would have rinsed them had I finished my coffee...nah, probably not.) 

I admit, this isn't my ideal morning but it couldn't have been a whole lot worse.  And by the time I got to drink my coffee, it was still sort of warm.     

What's your idea of progress?            

I Needed To Snooze Just A Little Bit Longer

Yesterday morning at 5 am, I jumped out of bed, showered, wrote a quick post while drinking my morning cup of coffee and made pasta so that I can make lunch for The Husband and myself. 

This morning?  Completely different story.  The alarm went off at 5 am and instead of waking up, I walked into the bathroom (because that's where I keep my alarm clock) and hit snooze.  I snoozed for about an hour.  And I would have loved nothing more than to keep right on snoozing.

But I had to wake up and get ready for work.  Get The Boy ready for school.  Make the beds and clean up a bit so that when my mother comes over later she doesn't yell at me for leaving the apartment in a complete disaray.  Yes, at 36 years old I still live in fear of having my mother yell at me. 

Last night I started a blog post about the importance of family in our lives.  But then I looked at my syllabus for the semester and realized, I am way behind on my work. I have at least 2 short stories to write - one for each class.  I'm taking American Gothic Literature and a Fiction Writing workshop.  A ton of reading to do catch up on.  And a presentation paper to start.

I've been struggling a lot with school lately.  More so than usual.  It's not easy, working full time, being a mom and a graduate student.  I'm tired of doing it.  There are nights when I sit in class, listening to the kids talk about how busy they are, I just want to laugh.  So many of them work part-time, are single and without kids.  They don't have a clue.  And there are nights when I sit in class, thinking about The Boy and everything going on in our lives that talking about the symbolism in Poe's The Black Cat seems pointless.  I'm a different kind of student.  Don't get me wrong, I care and I want to do well.  I'm just in a different place. 

So last night, I really started thinking about fiction writing and I began working on my short stories.  This is what a got so far ~

Gothic:  The black water of the Bronx River...

Fiction:  On the nights that I woke up screaming...

I actually wrote more than this but I obviously I can't post it all here.  And this morning instead of sleeping on the downtown D, I wrote.  And one short story for my fiction workshop is almost complete.  And I have an idea of how to approach my presentation. 

So instead of writing something sappy and meaningful about how much the help of my family means to me, you get this.

Two Supermarket Saturday. Sunday is my Favorite Day.

Our Saturday routine is Sensory Gym, School and Supermarkets.

Sensory Gym for The Boy.

School for The Husband. 

And Supermarkets for me.  

Watching The Boy work with the OT, I can't even worry about the financial burden.  I mean, I do because it's EXPENSIVE but the OT is amazing.  And The Boy NEEDS it.  Especially because The Boy's school still does not have an assigned OT.  Please don't even get me started on this.  Tomorrow is October 3rd and I'm getting a little annoyed.  Because the Board of Ed folks will tell you "If it's mandated on the IEP then the services need to be provided..." blah blah blah.  But what the Board of Ed says and what they actually do are two completely different things.  Like I said, don't get me started...

After Sensory Gym, it's off to Westchester for food shopping.  Why do we drive from The Bronx twenty minutes away to Westchester for groceries.  Well, a certain supermarket chain has a pretty great selection of healthy foods and snacks at reasonable prices.  The Boy gets to push his own cart too and pick his own snacks.  Too bad he can't pay for it...

But after we get home and I unpack the groceries, I wheel my shopping cart back out with The Boy to go to the neighborhood supermarket.  Because the organic supermarket doesn't carry the essentials of a Puerto Rican kitchen: pillow sacks of rice (I prefer Canilla) and Goya beans.When we're finished, I make The Boy push our shopping cart the three blocks back to our building.  I ignore the looks from other mother's, shaking their heads at me for making a 5 year old push a cart filled with groceries - they don't know about "heavy work."

This morning, we woke up at 6:45.  It's a crisp Sunday morning, I wrapped in soft blankets, I can smell the chill in the air.  It's what I love best about Fall.  The Boy must like it too because he bounced into our bed after turning on the light and said "Rise and Shine.  It's my favorite day!"  I asked The Boy what day is today.  To which he replied, "Monday!"

Yeah...not so sure about that one.  I told him it was Sunday.  And that Sunday was my favorite day.  Especially a Sunday like today.  My laundry is almost finished.  I ran all my errands yesterday so if I don't want to leave the apartment, I don't have to.  And I get to spend today doing only the things I want to do.

What's your favorite day of the week?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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It's Still Summer

Post it Note Tuesdays
from the Only Parent Chronicles

Bed Hopping, Pretend Playing and Other Wee Morning Hour Shenanigans

Sound sexy?  It's so not.   

After yesterday afternoon's public meltdown I assumed The Boy would have a good night's sleep. 

Hahaahahhaaaaaaaaaaa!  I am a foolish woman.  I guess all the little changes (a week off, new classroom - HHG summer session, and yesterday's cancelled OT session) have thrown him off of his routine.  And whenever there's change in routine,  that's usually when our sleep suffers.

I say "our" because when The Boy's up - we're all up.  Well, last night it was just me.  The Husband slept through it.

At about 2 am - I hear The Boy talking.  I open my eyes and realize the hall way light is on and he's sitting there with Linny, Tuck and Ming Ming.  (The Wonder Pets.)  I scoop The Boy up and take him back into his room.  I get into his bed, hoping he'll fall back asleep.  But somewhere between the hallway and The Boy's bed, Tuck has fallen.  And The Boy needs all three.  So he crawls over me and finds Tuck. 

"Go sleep in Mommy's bed,"  he says.          

So I get up and follow him into our bed with Linny, Tuck and Ming Ming too.  After 20 minutes of The Boy rolling around.  He gets up and goes back into his room.  I hear him start pulling out toys.  I hear him talking to himself.  Pretend playing with his Wonder Pets.  He is reciting lines from "I Was So Mad"  and "Toy Story."  There's also some spontaneous speech thrown in.  "Rise and shine.  It's time to go to school." His words are clear and his voice has emotion and kind of sing songy.  And part of me, doesn't want to disturb him; he's playing so appropriately.

But it's almost 3 am.  And I'm tired.  Exhausted actually.  And The Boy has school.  And I need to go to work.  So I get out of bed and go into his room.  I give him the look  and he hurries into his bed.  I climb in next to him (again). 

"Okay Norrin, it's time to go to sleep."
"We have to go to school?"  He asks.
"Yes.  First school.  Then Grandma.  Then Miss Natalie."  I say.


This continues for the next 2 hours.  Hopping between beds.  The Boy pulling out toys and books, playing and reciting lines.  Me, drifting in and out of a light sleep.  The Boy walking throughout the apartment, turning on lights.  Me, getting up and turning them off, kicking legos to the side, trying not to slip on toy cars, ushering him back into his room.  I've given up on getting him to sleep but I at least try to contain him in one place.

By 5 am, The Boy is still up and my alarm goes off.  The Boy is starting to calm down, he's getting sleepy.  I can tell by the way he's sitting and staring off.  I know he'll go to sleep only to be woken up by 6:45.  And I really haven't slept.  Remember the kind of day I had.  Momma had to pull out the Jeremiah Weed Sweet Tea (vodka) and make herself a serious glass of mommy juice.  And I didn't got to sleep until a little after a 11.

And then I thought about that article - about how the "GTF to Sleep" book isn't funny.  I've read the book.  It's funny.  Hilarious actually.  And obviously, I know enough not to read this to The Boy.  And I am the kind of parent who reads every day to their child.  So I'm allowed to think this book is funny.

You know what isn't funny?  Waking up at 2 am and staying up.  And I can't even tell you how many times I wanted to just scream "Go the F--k to Sleep."
 
Well, maybe I yelled it once - around 4 am - but without the F-Bomb.           

Here's hoping tonight is a better night.  And if it isn't - The Husband will not be sleeping through it.    

Manic Weekday Mornings

Five mornings out of seven the alarm goes off at 5:30 am.  I am often tempted to hit snooze, however, my alarm clock is strategically placed in the bathroom.  Getting up out of bed and walking down the hall to the bathroom to hit snooze for another five minutes of sleep doesn't seem worth it.   

Once I'm up. I'm up.  And I have one hour to take a shower, get dressed, apply my mask of makeup, make lunch, make breakfast, make coffee and wash last night's dishes. I have to make The Boy's bed (because at some point in the middle of the night, he has wandered into our bed but that's for a whole other post.) and pick up his toys and books.  I get The Boy's clothes and take them into the living room where I will help him get dressed.  I pour out a bowl of cereal - sans milk.  I drink my coffee while watching the local news and I try to figure out what to wear for myself.  Though my own outfit, takes much less thought than The Boy's. 

By 6:28 I'm back in my room, ready to wake The Boy.  Some days he's ready to go at 6 am, other days I have to grab him by the ankles and pull him out of bed.  Often bribes of cereal bars or muffins are involved.  Not today.  I tickle him awake.  His pull-up is heavy and ready to burst.  (Yes, he's 5 and sleeps in a pull-up.  Again, that's for another post.)

I drag him out of our bed and walk him into the bathroom. His eyes are half closed, his bare flat feet slapping the wood floor.  I pull down his pajama pants, yank off his shirt and pull off his pull-up.

"Pee pee in the potty?" I ask.

"No way," he says.  The Boy isn't a morning person.

"Norrin. Fix it." I say.  We say 'fix it' when he needs to fix his tone of voice or when he's being disrespectful.

"No I do not wish to do pee pee in the potty," he says.

This response kind of makes me giggle. 'I do not wish...' is his latest phrase thanks to The Cat in the Hat. 

I wash his hands and face.  "Now it's time to brush teeth," I announce. And this is the hardest part of our morning routine.  The Boy hates brushing his teeth. "No! No! No!" He screams and starts to make a run for it.  But I grab him.  Now this next part is always a little dramatic.  I stand him on the step stool in front of the sink. I stand behind him, the weight of my body pinning him against the sink.  I bend slightly, wrapping my left arm around his body and with the toothbrush in my right hand, I press my elbow against his chest, holding him down to brush his teeth.  I pry his mouth open with the toothbrush and my index finger.  This is tricky business.  The Boy has been known to bite.  

By now it's 6:50 and I still need to get him dressed and hope he eats some cereal before heading out.  I get him dressed while we watch Good Day New York.      

I realize the dressing and tooth brushing are opportunities for The Boy to work on his self-help IEP goals.  But who has that kind of time when bus pick up is at 7:19?  That has to wait for the weekend when there's more time.

The Boy sits at the table and picks the pink cheerios out of the bowl - he'll eat those first before the plain cheerios.  I rush around, doing the last minute thing: spritzing perfume, lotion on hands, grab the cell phone, check the book bag. It's 7:07 by now and we have to go.  

The Boy is no longer at the table but in the bathroom - standing on the step stool, brushing his teeth.  Well, more like eating the toothpaste.  "Good job Norrin!" And I pull out of the bathroom because now we really have to go. I realize that he doesn't exactly hate brushing his teeth, he hates me brushing his teeth.       

Hats. Scarves. Coats. Bags.  We are out the door.  I see the bus already in front of our building and I tell The Boy to run.  I hate making them wait. 

I kiss The Boy goodbye and prompt him to say good morning to the driver and matron. 

"I'm so sorry. Am I late or are you early?" I ask the driver. 

"Actually we're right on time," she says.

And that seems to sum up our manic weekday mornings.  Never too early. Never too late.  Always right on time, with some seconds to spare.