The blog in which we are in the mountains for a few days.

Today was one of those "cabin fever" days.  We literally had been in the cabin since two nights ago, and finally, weather cleared up enough to make our way into town.  (Into town is about 3 miles away, if that.)  We had impressive rain and wind yesterday, and snow flurries all morning.  Once the sun came out to play, we ventured out.  We ran to drop off the the Redbox movie and get another one, as well as some assorted groceries we needed at the store the Redbox is in.  The real reason for the outing was actually for the year round Christmas store.  It's called "Always Christmas,"  and it is the main store in the building, with a Christian bookstore, jewelry, and cards flanking one side, and a walkthrough to an assorted novelty gift shop and baby gift store on the other walk through.  There is a toy train that runs around the atrium above our heads of the main store, and that is where we spent much of our time.  From Christmas villages and displays, to SnowBabies by Dept. 56, to ornaments and unique decorations, we looked at it all.  Here are some of the things we saw.  And when we finally left, I was slightly confused.  Take a look and see why...

I am not even kidding.  The temperatures the entire day did not reach over 34 degrees Fahrenheit.  We were numb waiting on Mom to take the picture on my phone and her iPod.  

For a fairly spiritual type of business, this kind of shocked me.  It is a wine stopper.  

The backside- literally, of the wine stopper.  

Creepy, right?  This was a full sized table and fake people in the corner of another room in the non Christmas side of the store.  I was not sure how to respond at the moment, so I snapped the photo and here it is.   

Mom saw this and I think she secretly wanted it for herself,  but she talked me into liking it with her.  And now, we have an owl, with dangling legs.  I have named him.  "Dangle."  As in, "Dangle all the way..."  

WTH?  Oh.My. Gosh.  I have not been so frightened since that freakish elf Charlie got last year.  Luckily, that thing was only good for one prank joke on Geoff when he went bowling and I tucked that freakish thing under his side of the bed.  The next best day with him was recently, when I found that his head had fallen off, and I had to find time for a proper burial.  (It was hard to fit him into the garbage since he was sorta' a full sized doll and my bathroom garbage is pretty small. )  

"Dangle" joined the cast this evening, and all four are doing an awesome job of just hanging around the cabin.  

The blog in which we need to take the time to teach our children safety. Everywhere.

Home alone.  There's a knock at the door.  I am fresh from a shower, but dressed, sans the jeans.  I run to look out the window, and see a car in the drive, and I don't recognize it.  Not one of my friend's mom vans, and wasn't expecting anyone.  Hmm. Then, I throw my jeans on, and the doorbell rings.  I run downstairs and Brody at my heels, I yell, "Who's there?!"

While we do have a peep hole in our front door, it is about a foot and a half too tall for my 5' frame to see through, and now is no time for grabbing a ladder to utilize it.  My head races, and curses the fact that I am too short, and that the hole is too high, and then, the fact that my ladder is at Jenn's house.  I asked her ex-husband to return it because we have two items stuck up high that require the ladder to get them down, and he told me that he would return it this morning, I assumed at the bus stop, but they never showed up.

At that moment, the person on the other side of the door answers- "It's ....."  Right.  And he has my ladder.  Awkward.  Am I the only person that panics when there is a knock at the door?  I don't know why I am like that.  Nothing bad has ever happened.  I assume someone coming to do harm would not knock and then ring the doorbell after no response, but I guess we can not assume anything anymore.  Sad that we are living in such a difficult time.

However, it only reminds me that when someone comes door to door, please be smart.  Don't let them in your home.  Don't open the door if it is a sales person.  Often, people come as door to door salesmen, and just scope out your home to come back at a later time.  Teach your children that they are not to answer the door without a parent there.  My own children got a "knock" at the door this weekend from their elf.  When I stood next to my daughter as she yelled, "Who's there?" there was obviously no answer.  I knew it was safe, and told her that she needed to back up and that I would answer the door since I was an adult.  She was not happy that I chose to do so.  I was never more proud.

Geoff had the opportunity to serve with the radKIDS program last week.  He truly felt empowered from the time with the group, and loved helping.  One night, he came home to tell me how he acted out a scenario with the the class where he knocked on the door and the children answered it.  He was to grab the children quickly, to teach them that it really can happen that quickly.  I had seen this demonstration many times before, and let me tell you- those kids are shaken.  While we are in a safe environment,  the kids are initially shocked by the event.  Then, it dawns on them- their homes are "safe" environments, and it can happen- anywhere.

radKids is a nonprofit organization that is all over the country, but we are super fortunate to have a group of certified radKids instructors here in Cherokee County.  Consider gifting a radKids class this season.  It will not only give your children tools to be safe, but also, you, the parents.  I learned so much from our class, a year ago, February.  As the children get older, the class morphs to teach things in a way that is age appropriate.  After you pay your initial $60, your children may return, annually, at no charge, as a refresher.  The cost of the class merely covers the cost of the supplies, as the instructors are all there on a volunteer basis.  However, no child will be turned away because of finances.  This exact program is incorporated into the physical education program in nearby school systems, such as Gwinnet County schools.

The blog in which make a D.I.Y. toy doll lantern.

I was wasting time on Pinterest.com, and found this project, and it has absolutely NO place to credit.  However, it had three pictures and that made enough sense to me to do it, and then break it down for you guys.  I just so happen to have EVERY single piece I needed.  (I am weird about keeping things around the house, however, I always seem to have something to whip together a DIY project.)

We get these with each purchase of any over the counter, liquid medicines for the kids.   We used to throw them in the sandbox, or in the tubs, but the kids are too old for that stuff, and Shay is the last one on liquid medicines, and we are phasing that out too with chew ables and dissolvables.  

I attempted to sand paper this writing off, but couldn't, so I just painted right over it with my acrylic paint.  

Try as I might with the acetone nail polish remover,  I ended up having to buff off the ink with some sand paper.  I know.  You are as shocked as I was the day I had to purchase nail polish remover.  Don't worry.  It's not mine.  Shay needed something to remove her occasional nail polish.  It's purple.  One of her many favorite colors ;o) Notice the little black dots around the edge of the bottom of the cup?  I liked them.  They got to stay.  

Painted the whole battery tea light because it looked silly otherwise.    Personal preference.

Using a knife, cut a hole in the bottom.  That is where you will put the light bulb through.  

The paint covered well.  

I had to sneak and do this in the closet, since I had a sick migit home today.  (Once I get an idea, I can't help myself.)    Not the prettiest work area to photograph in.  I am considering super gluing the whole thing together, once the paint is dry.

I wanted  a handle, but nothing hard, so I grabbed some black ribbon, and attached it under the painted cap.  That way, the doll can "carry" it on her arm when playing, if it's not lighting up the tent area I created.  I used Super Glue gel to attach all the pieces.

Finished product, in the light, still very bright for a tiny, yet muted light.   (Placed near the acrylic paint bottle for size proportion.) 

In the dark.

The blog in which Shout! takes a devastating fall.

It was an accident.  Really.  I, of all people, completely respect the rules, and honestly, it was like watching it happen in slow motion.  I have been sick all week, and, hold your knees, but I didn't fold TWO loads of laundry this week!  The movie of the night was "The Santa Clause," with Tim Allen.  After everyone nestled up on the couches, I found a prime viewing area- on the landing on top of our stairs, and surrounded with mounds of clothes, I enjoyed the movie as I separated and folded Hello Kitty panties and little boy's socks that are forever, inside out.

I came to the end of the pile, and found a jacket that needed to make it's way down to the coat closet.  So, not unheard of in the Ahrens's home, I chucked it over the banister to make it's descent to the lower level for someone to hang it up for me.  And that's when it happened.

Shout! and his crew, Ariel and Scott, the deer, were all knocked over by the coat I threw.  I saw it happening in slow motion, and not until the jacket left my fingers, did I remember that Shout! and the gang were perched on top of a piece of furniture in the living room, below me.  The horror!  The screams!  ELF DOWN!  ELF DOWN!!! Well, that's how it happened.

The "crew" hanging out on top of a piece of furniture in the living room.  Here are the kids finding him on Saturday morning.  Before- "IT" happened.  

Luckily, by the law of the "Elf on the Shelf," technically, he had not been touched by human hands, therefore, his flying powers had not been diminished, but by all accounts, he was rendered useless behind a couch, face down, unable to help himself.  It was a pathetic sight.

Here is the photographic evidence of THE accident.  

Shay was not particularly pleased with the circumstances.  She took it up on herself to notify Santa of the event.  She wrote him a note, and then, a diagram, outlining the specifics.  I think she did a fantastic job.  (Luckily for Shay, EVERY time she has written a note to the North Pole, it suddenly disappears from her room, the table, or her desk.  She knows that Shout! must be grabbing the notes and taking them back home to Santa.)  One day, I will introduce them to the North Pole in my closet- a bag that will always been known as the "North Pole."

The diagram has everything from me on top of the stairs, down to her and Charlie's location on the sofa.  She even wrote a note.  It's phonetically spelled, so I will interpret for you-

     "Dear Santa   Mommy accidentally knocked Shout from where he was.  Merry Christmas.  To Santa.  Love Shayna."

The note.

The diagram.  

Need to go hide by the door so that the migits can answer the door .

Eeks.   Heartbreaking.  Well, last night, Shout! managed to save himself, and make a little mess with some fake Jenga blocks, and even write a note with them in Chaz's room.  This morning, he is noticeably absent.  I think he has a plan though.  He wants to surprise the migits by showing up at the door later on this morning- with his two partners in crime- shoved in the game container, so that we can safely carry him into the house ;o)

Shay's room.

Charlie's bed.  

Wait for it...

WHOA!  They're ba'ack!

I am not happy about some Christian's views on this.

I went to bed, after seeing all those, "How can we expect G-d to protect us in school if we have taken him out of those very institutions,"  I was mad.  How can the adults believe that.  Not just adults.  Christian adults.  Where is your faith, people???  That is not what the Christian religion teaches us.  And beyond that, you are certainly causing your children to rethink the way they see our Heavenly Father.

First, there is the first lesson of any Christian bible, and it begins in the Old Testament.  It's called "free will."  If you don't know what that means, essentially, it's a thing created by G-d, Himself, that allows us to make mistakes.  Lots of them.  Varying degrees of them.  And while the specifics to this case are not relevant to my point, I will say, with certainty, someone prayed, and G-d was with them.  And with certainty, someone else there probably did not pray, and He was with them, too.

We can't keep Him out of any place.  We believe that he is the maker of heaven and earth.  We believe he is the the Father Almighty.  I mean, as a Catholic, we have a creed.  I am not even making this up.  The truth is, I believe.  And yet, it's no different than my parents home.  It was a Jewish home.  And yet, while the Jewish faith would have been enough to keep Jesus out of the family, Jesus found me,  and no amount of Hebrew school, matzo ball soup, or dreidels was going to keep G-d's only son, MY Lord, Jesus Christ, out of my life.

One day, when I was in my early 20's,  while I was still in my discernment period of my beliefs,  I was dabbling with Catholic prayer, and was saying a rosary.  I was living in a Jewish home, and you might think, "What is a Catholic specific prayer doing in a Jewish home?  Can't be.  Christian things are not "allowed" there."  Well, true.  They were not "allowed."  That didn't stop me from saying it, or having my mom knock on my bedroom door, and just walk in on me shoving my rosary beads into my lap, under the bed covers.  Years later, I knew that conversation would prove funny, and when she asked about that time she walked in on me, she was devastated to learn that I was actually saying a prayer, and NOT what she thought she walked in on.  (I might be hairy, but my palms are noticeably hairless. ) I was living at home, and one day, my dad got in my car to shuffle it in the driveway to maneuver another car out, and upon turning the car on, he got blasted with the tag line to my radio station, the newest radio station of the time, called , "104.7, The Fish."  He came back in, and questioned me.  I just said, "It makes me feel good."  No lies- yet.  I had not converted.  It took years to finally convert, but I was still trying to figure it all out.  He was not happy.  He knew something was not "right." "Right," being Jewish.

This past week, I was at the school for both of my children's holiday parties.  I arrived to my daughters class, and tried to enter the classroom.  The door was closed.  AND locked.  I looked through the small window, and knocked, and another parent that came for the party came and let me in.  I joked about how it felt a little like Fort Knox.  I'm not joking now.  I am comforted.

We don't have control of everyone around us.  We can't stop crazy.  We can be in prayer, but I think that it really is ALL of our responsibility to try to help identify people who are mentally ill, and the truth is, I do not condone guns in home, but I don't think it makes a difference.  It will get in the hands of crazy whether I believe in it or not.  What happened yesterday was a sad case of a mentally unstable person doing something that had this horrible and tragic ending.  Does it mean that G-d wasn't there?  No.  He was.  He was there in the teacher that pulled a child from gun fire, in the closet they barricaded themselves in, the police, firemen, ambulance workers, and other public responders that arrived shortly after it all began.  G-d is there, and we need to stop placing blame, and instead, pray for those who are mentally ill, and pray for that community.  Please think about how you think, Facebook post, and talk.  Especially around your children.  There is no need to minimize G-d's love for us, or abilities, because you are naive to think that while school prayer has been removed from the scheduled school day.  I eat lunch with my children each week at school.  And guess what... I bow my head and prayer with my children, and no one has ever asked me to stop.

The blog in which I got a really hard phone call today.

I am not good at that southern charm thing.  Part of that is hiding your emotions.  I don't do it.  EVER.   Not even a little bit.  If I am feeling something, you WILL know it.  Immediately,  if not sooner.  So, I got the call after we go home from school.

Private speech therapist-  Hi Erin!  It's...  I wanted to know if you have a few minutes to talk.

Me- Sure.  (I had a few minutes to tell jokes, suggest a dinner recipe, hear a poem, or answer riddles.  Whatever.  I'm loose like that.)

PST- Well, I wanted to tell you myself...

*Writer aside here-  Anytime someone starts a conversation like that, I swear this is what races through my head- not in this order, and yes, ALL BEFORE the actual reason comes out.  My brain has cat-like reflexes.  It's a gift?  Not so much.
    -that I am gay. (That clearly is not an issue.  I have more testosterone and facial hair than most gay men I know- sorry Robert, you are the only one in striking distance for the "one gay friend" and when I tell you he is the epitome of gay man stereotype, I mean- Broadway and all.  Like, he is literally in and produces musicals in NYC.  Let me know when you will be in NYC and I will hook you up.  GREAT guy, buy not a speech therapist.)
     -that I am not really a speech therapist.  (Yeah, she seemed too good to be one.  Although, the one before that left us was really good too.  I miss her.  Le' sigh.)
     -that I am an illegal resident and am being deported.  (She's only black, but you never know.)
     -that I'm pregnant and leaving.  (That was the case for the last private speech therapist, and she told me in person.  And I will never forget how horrified I looked when she told me.  Forget her sheer excitement and joy for growing her family.  How was I to let her go and not work with Charlie???  Yeah, it was bad.  It took a few weeks for me to properly apologize.  I was devastated, and she was the first therapist to make any progress with Charlie.)
     -that I didn't pay taxes and I am going to jail for tax evasion.  (So, that was easy.  I just dreamily began thinking about making weekly visits to see her, and having Charlie holding a phone up to his ear and her on the other side of the glass, and looking great in that jump suit.)  Sorry, but my mind works independently of me sometimes.  I mean, if she can make scrubs look good, than no doubt sista' can work that jumpsuit.
     -that I have decided to go back to school.  (That happens.  This sort of stuff they do has definite burn out rates.  Charlie had an occupational therapist that seemed great, and one day, I learned that she left because she didn't like working with kids anymore.  So, maybe moving on from speech to some other therapautic discipline... I don't know.)

Back to our regularly programmed conversation....

PST- I wanted to tell you that I am leaving.  I have been given an amazing opportunity with the .... blah blah blah... to further my career..blah blah blah... and I will miss my kids... blah blah blah, and I am leaving at the end of December.

Me- (speechless.)  (Ironic.  While speaking with a speech therapist.  I get it.  And I don't like it.  And she knows it.)

First, as a mom with a kid on the "spectrum," once you find a therapist that seems to make progress with your migit, they become like liquid gold, and the second they sniffle, you run to get them the finest hanky to wipe their shnauz with, as to not damage their sinus cavity therefore they can continue doing the exemplary work they have maintained.  If our speech therapist was on the side of a road in downtown Atlanta, I might brave my anxieties and go pick her up, if it meant that she could still work her session with my son.  If she were stuck in an elevator, I would... uh, well.  I would not hold the session there.  Look, I have my limits.  But keep in mind, I WAS willing to overcome that traffic anxiety for her.

There is a special relationship that I have developed with all of the therapists that have worked with Charlie over the last five years of therapy.  Some, I still keep in touch with, on a personal level, even though they no longer serve our son.  When someone makes a difference in your child's growth and development, there is always an attachment.  This speech therapist was one that had a really great balance of great speech therapist, and equally great at knowing Charlie and his quirks as well as anyone could.  While I hope my lack of enthusiasm for her moving on didn't hurt her feelings, if she looks at it just right, (also known as- my way) she will see that I was devastated to lose such an amazing gift to our son.  Best of luck to you and may our paths cross again one day!

The blog in which Charlie is moving on.

I am so excited!  We have found a gymnastics gym that will work with us financially, that is right around the corner- as in, it take 1 minute and 42 seconds to drive there.  They met with Charlie about two weeks ago, we viewed a boys' class,  spoke with the boys' coach, and got the email yesterday stating they are excited to have Charlie join them, starting in January!

The YMCA program has been amazing for us, however, from the second class there this past Fall, they told us that we would not be able to keep him there for long, due to his abilities.  They generally worked the vault, beam and floor, bringing out the bars once, and he really desires to learn more there.  So, I had my dad build him a bar, and he has already developed his kip, and is working on hip circles.  ALL.WITHOUT.FORMAL.TRAINING.  (Thank you, youtube.com!) He wants so badly to try all the mens' equipment, since he sits for hours watching youtube.com videos of mens' gymnastics.  As the boys were working on the parallel bars at our visit at the new gym, Charlie stood, frozen, almost moving his hips as when we chew while watching someone else eat a meal.  (You know you do this!)

While we are gearing up for his final class/exposition performance at the YMCA this coming Tuesday, it is with sadness that we leave the Y's gymnastics program, but thankful for their patience, love, and understanding of Charlie.  They not only allowed him to love gymnastics, but they built confidence, and that is worth way more than the price of admission for this mom.