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Why You Should Adopt a Greyhound

Here is your chance to learn about greyhounds, support our local rescue, and save on your next dog food purchase! So keep reading…

We adopted our first greyhound in 2003, before we got engaged or married, before kids, before the minivan and living the suburban dream. Researching breeds, we looked for a young (not a puppy) rescue dog. We wanted a dog with a reasonable level of energy since we were willing to walk daily, but jogging was out of the question. We also looked for a low-shedding breed that would not exacerbate my allergies. Labs, goldens, and shepherd mixes were out of the question. We checked Petfinder and our local SPCA weekly. I don’t remember exactly how greyhounds entered the conversation, but we connected with a greyhound rescue and the rest is history.

We met Dirtywater in October 2003. He was 2-years old and raced at tracks in Massachusetts and Rhode Island. The gentleman who ran the greyhound rescue brought him to our house. Dirtywater sniffed the perimeter of our family room, sniffed us, flopped on the floor, and fell asleep. Love at first sight. Obviously, Dirtywater was not an acceptable name, so his forever name became Bocephus. Bo for short. He was the perfect family dog for 11 years–there the day we got married, when we brought three babies home from the hospital, and he had an unspoken relationship with our oldest son that is the stuff of fables. In May of 2014, Bo’s age finally got the better of him.

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Most greyhounds around the world are bred for racing; so most adoptable greyhounds are retired racers. Greyhound racing is a dying spectator sport in the United States, and declining revenues means declining track and kennel conditions. Groups like PETA and GREY2K USA exposed multiple accounts of confinement, injuries, and poor breeding practices around the country over the last 10 years. In the end, though, there are still more retiring racers than adopters, and greyhounds are destroyed as a result. When you adopt a retired racer, you gain a family member, friend, and support an international community dedicated to giving these dogs a second chance. Here’s what you should know about the gentle giants:

  • When you adopt an adult dog, you know what you’re getting. They are already full-grown in size and personality. Since race dogs spend their entire lives on tracks and in kennels before retirement, they are not used to living in a home. Glass doors, hardwood floors, and stairs are foreign to them, but they learn quickly.
  • Adult dogs require less work than puppies. Housetraining those dogs already used to a turn-out schedule makes things pretty easy.
  • Greyhounds are quiet indoors, laid back, and love to lounge in their favorite soft spots. They require less exercise than other breeds. There’s a reason greyhounds are called 45-mph couch potatoes, but they can be as active as you are. Adoption groups work tirelessly to match you with the right grey for your lifestyle.
  • Greyhounds are naturally well mannered.  They are quiet, usually compliant, easygoing, and require minimal grooming.
  • For allergy sufferers like myself, greyhounds make great pets because their coats are light, short, low-shedding, and not oily. They groom themselves like cats and do not slobber. No offense to my doodle-owning friends, but there is no such thing as an allergy-free or hypoallergenic dog. Those terms are marketing ploys for the designer dog business. If you want the real scoop on pet allergies, check out the Mayo Clinic or this New York Times article.
  • Greyhounds are a healthy breed. They are bred for physical superiority on the race track, and large-breed problems like hip dysplasia are nonexistent. The biggest time investment you’ll make in their health and grooming is regular teeth brushing.

The books Retired Racing Greyhounds for Dummies by Lee Livingood and Adopting the Racing Greyhound by Cynthia Branigan detail the ins and outs of adopting, training, and loving these dogs. If you’re interested in adoption, read one of these books!

This year, we adopted our second greyhound. She is 2-years old and raced in Alabama. We described our family dynamic (three young children, two with autism), and the adoption agency screened possible candidates for therapy dog training. Belle arrived in May, skinny and infected with hookworms. She cannot stand to be absent from her family. By family, I mean me. I leave the house and she’s howling at the top of her lungs. I go to the bathroom and she whines at the door. Belle is my shadow–affectionate, sometimes smothering, but she only wants to give and get love. She’s still learning the ropes.

Here is Belle the weekend she arrived, already Thing 2’s skinny and stinky pillow.

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Fast-forward 10 weeks later, she gained 10 pounds (thanks to a fantastic food from Nature’s Select of Central Virginia), got treated for those nasty hookworms, and sports a fancy new collar.

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When we’re out walking, whether the neighborhood or anywhere else, I field a lot of questions about greyhounds. Since we do not have dog tracks in Virginia, I guess people are not familiar with the industry or the work of adoption groups in our state. If you are looking for a furry family member, I hope you consider adopting a rescue first. Then I hope you check out greyhounds.

We discovered Nature’s Select later in Bo’s life. Bo loved it, and so does Belle! We prefer feeding kibble approved by the Whole Dog Journal; Nature’s Select meets that criteria and made our dogs’ skin and coat look and feel amazing. Buying Nature’s Select, we support a wonderful local family-owned company, and the food gets delivered right to our door. Try it for yourself by ordering your next bag of dog food from Nature’s Select of Central Virginia and use the coupon code HELPGREYS (all caps); you’ll save 15% off your first order, and $1 per bag will be donated to James River Greyhounds.

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Happy World Breastfeeding Week!

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World Breastfeeding Week 2015 is August 1-7.  As someone who had breastfeeding successes (Things 2 and 3) and epic failure (Thing 1), I fully support a woman’s right to feed her baby–however that works for her. But why is breastfeeding awesome? Well, breast milk provides ideal nutrition for infants with all the protein, fat, vitamins, minerals, and antibodies a baby needs. Breast milk is easily digested. It’s linked to lower occurrences of asthma, ear infections, SIDS, diabetes, and obesity. Besides the obvious bonding that happens, breastfeeding also burns extra calories, releases the euphoric hormone oxytocin, and lowers the risk of breast and ovarian cancers for mothers.

When it works for mother and child, it’s awesome. When it doesn’t go so smoothly, there’s always formula…and there’s no shame in that.

Even though I am no longer nursing, I am interested in World Breastfeeding Week because of the focus on breastfeeding and the working mother. As a pumping mom, it shocks me how little protection and time new mothers have to express their milk at work. As a teacher, I had difficulty carving time out of a busy day to relax for 30 minutes for a productive pumping session. There were always meetings and conferences to attend, papers to grade, e-mails to compose, lessons to plan, and not enough hours in the day. Thankfully, the great Commonwealth of Virginia is doing more to protect those rights.  Our current state laws include:

  • Va. Code § 2.2-1147.1 (2002, 2015) guarantees a woman the right to breastfeed her child on in any place where the mother is lawfully present, including any location where she would otherwise be allowed on property that is owned, leased or controlled by the state. The bill also stipulates that childbirth and related medical conditions specified in the Virginia Human Rights Act include activities of lactation, including breastfeeding and expression of milk by a mother for her child.
  • Va. Code Ann. § 8.01-341.1 (2005) provides that a mother who is breastfeeding a child may be exempted from jury duty upon her request.
  • Va. Code Ann. § 18.2-387 (1994) exempts mothers engaged in breastfeeding from indecent exposure laws.
  • Va. House Joint Resolution 145 (2002) encourages employers to recognize the benefits of breastfeeding and to provide unpaid break time and appropriate space for employees to breastfeed or express milk.

The only two times I’ve been called for jury duty, I was breastfeeding. Guess who didn’t have to go to court? Score for the boob juice.

In honor of World Breastfeeding Week, I searched for coupon codes, freebies, and giveaways. If you know a soon-to-be mom, consider passing these gifts along, and I’ll update the list as I find more offers.

Finally, here’s a quick round up of my favorite breastfeeding products and resources:

  • Latched Mama: Designed by a local RVA entrepreneur, here you’ll find stylish and functional clothing for nursing mothers. Get free shipping on orders $75+. Love the side-access styles.
  • The Leaky Boob: Blog, reviews, honest advice.
  • La Leche League International
  • Ergobaby 360: I nursed Thing 3 in this many times, and it continues to be one of his favorite modes of transportation at 15-months old. Worth every penny.
  • Motherlove Nipple Cream: For obvious reasons.
  • And if you still want more, here’s my Pinterest board all about babies and boobies.
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Prayers of the People

Confession: I am irritable this week.

Summer tends to be a tough time in our household.  Some people suffer from seasonal affective disorder in the winter, but my Thing 1 gets hot-tempered in summer.  He is up, he is down, he can be destructive.  In the last two weeks, he ripped apart two books and shattered a glass candle container.  Combine that with Thing 2’s sheer loudness at all times, and I’m about to lose my mind.  I snapped at the grocery store cashier yesterday.  I rolled my eyes and completely disregarded pick-up procedures at Thing 2’s school.  I’ve been overly snarky with my husband.

Last week I also attended a meeting with my son’s teacher, principal, and occupational therapist.  At his spring IEP meeting, I asked for a full OT evaluation.  That evaluation was complete, so it was time for our meeting and amendment.  Sitting across from the principal, though… Oy.  I do not like that woman.  She followed me outside in an attempt to shake a name out of me.  Who told me Thing 1’s self-contained autism class spent days watching Disney movies?  The subject came up in the spring, and this woman is hell-bent on getting a name from me.

I ain’t no snitch.

I came across this prayer today, and it spoke to my feelings over the past couple weeks.  Both Hands and a Flashlight is written by an autism dad, and his was the first blog I started following after Thing 1 was diagnosed.  Whether you’re on the special needs path or not, I think it speaks to all parents doing their best and fighting the good fight.

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Prayers of the People:

Dear Lord,
You who watch over the lilies of the field,
Help us just to not suck today.

Help us to put our clothes on right,
Or to at least meet the minimums of decency.
Help us to put toothpaste on our brushes instead of diaper cream,
And to not look too much like a raving lunatic in public.
Or at least grant us shelter us from arrest.

Help us when we yell at someone in a store
that we might not hurt our voices.
Guide our feet as we kick ass,
And lead us not into more expletives than are necessary,
But make them the right ones,
In thy mercy.

For those who do not believe in our kids,
For those who judge our parenting and our kids’ behavior,
For those too quick to speak and too slow to listen,
For those whose hearts have hardened,
We pray.

For those who cannot fathom how to pay their bills,
For those who hold their heads in despair,
For those who don’t know if it will ever get better,
For those getting up off the ground to fight once more,
For those who refuse to give up,
For those who choose love over fear,
We pray.

And may our coffee pots brew well and our grounds be plentiful.
Amen.

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Milestones!

We recently celebrated Thing 3’s FIRST birthday!  Little kids and birthday parties are so much fun, although Thing 3 was slightly overwhelmed by all the attention.  He arrived like a freight train eight days before his due date.  About two weeks before, he wriggled into a frank breech position.  After researching the version procedure proposed by my doctor, I opted for a c-section and got on the hospital’s schedule.  The weekend before, Thing 3 decided he did not want to wait for that appointment.  We arrived at the hospital just in time.  Within 30 minutes of getting to the hospital, I was already 7 centimeters dilated and prepped for surgery.

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Thing 3 is the big 1!We had a low-key party with family and a few friends.  We grilled burgers and hot dogs and inhaled cupcakes.  Thing 3 played hard, but kept his stone-cold-sober party face on.  He did not want to crack a smile, but he loved his cupcake and playing with his cousin.

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This baby is such a good boy!  He loves to play peek-a-boo and patty cake.  He blows kisses and greets everyone by waving when they come through the door.  He turns every small toy into a phone, holds it up to the back of his head, and asks, “Hiya?”  He gives these ridiculous open-mouth slobbery kisses.  He is becoming more opinionated and independent (and antagonistic towards his big brothers).  He is speed-demon crawler and champion cruiser…but has not started walking alone quite yet.  He looks so adorable when he cuddles with his favorite blanket.  He points at Cheerios and Goldfish when he wants his favorite snacks, although he loves all food.  He wakes up happy almost every morning and laughs at his Daddy’s funny faces.

Happy birthday, Thing 3!

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Udder Nonsense

WARNING: This post talks about boobs.  Divert your eyes if that makes you queasy.

Milk MeLast night I thawed the last three bags of frozen breastmilk for bottles and packed away my breast pump.  I was kind of surprised at the emotions that came with putting that pump away.  On one hand, I was happy to give the pump the official F-OFF because I seriously hate that machine.  What do I hate most?  Pumping at work while trying to reply to e-mails, grade papers, and attend meetings and conferences; the noise of the machine; cleaning flanges and valves; the expense of special freezer bags; people interrupting me.  And by interrupt, I mean unlocking my door and walking in as if they are invited to the party.

That happened to me twice–by custodial staff and a parent volunteer.  Yep, someone gave a parent a master key in the front office, and she let herself into my classroom.  Never mind the safety concerns there or the sign on the door that clearly said, “DO NOT DISTURB.”  But I digress…

On the other hand, it means Thing 3 is one more step away from babyhood, and that makes me sad.  At 11-months old, he has 10 teeth, including two molars, and I followed his cues to wean.  He’s my last baby (okay, maybe I’m still in denial about that), and we’ll never have those special moments again.  Waaahhhh…

Thing 3In honor of the occasion, I offer this poem to honor the hard work of those mammary glands and my pump.

Boobs being macerated by tiny teeth.

Relax and just let it flow.

Engorged?  Not anymore!

Adding to my

Supply

To keep my baby full.  Meanwhile,

Pulling and pinching my

Udders, I try to ignore.  Now

My lactation has come to a close, and that means it’s time for more

Pinot.

Lame and dorky, I know.

As a side note–I discovered Latched Mama nursing apparel with this kiddo.  Her hoodies are amazing, and she’s a local RVA designer. Check her out!

We will be celebrating Thing 3’s first birthday in less than four weeks!  I cannot believe how fast the year has passed, and he is turning into such a playful, opinionated little boy.

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“Feed me now!” he says.

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Good Morning America!

Because of our support of HB1940, we developed a relationship with Autism Speaks.  The organization published my blog post (My Day at the GA) on their website, and our names were passed along to ABC News as they started working on a piece for Autism Speaks’ 10th birthday.  As I responded to the hey-can-you-do-an-interview e-mail from Autism Speaks, I thought for sure it was not going to happen…but it’s nice to be considered.  Seriously, my family is not that interesting.

A couple days later I got an e-mail from an ABC producer.  “WTF have I gotten us into?” was all that went through my mind.

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Twenty-four hours later, our house was spick and span, and the next day a field crew descended on our home.  Thing 1 flipped out when they first arrived, but he calmed down while my husband and I sat for our interview.  We were asked questions about how we met, how long we’ve been married, when did we know our children had autism, how “devastated” were we when Thing 2 was diagnosed, what is applied behavioral analysis, why does it cost so much, what has ABA done for our boys, why should Virginians support an expansion of the autism insurance mandate, and so on.  We answered questions for about an hour, and I had butterflies fluttering in my stomach the entire time.  We explained that ABA has been a game-changer for our family and gave Thing 1 a voice.  It’s expensive because highly specialized one-on-one therapy usually is, and you pay for what you get.  It’s important that Virginians support HB1940 because when it comes to the care of persons with autism, you either pay now or later.  We prefer to invest in our boys now so they can learn how to make friends, survive school, and one day live as independently as possible.  We also pointed out that having an age cap tied to autism insurance benefits is discriminatory.

The producer using the term “devastated” to describe going through the diagnosis process twice bothered me.  Autism is not a death sentence, and while I certainly don’t want to see my children struggle to communicate, make friends, and gain acceptance, I get to tuck them in, read them stories, and smother them with kisses every day.  That is a luxury, not a devastation.

The field producer does a lot of work for NPR and also published a short article with our interview here.

Once our interview was done, the boys came downstairs and were followed around by the camera and sound guys for two hours.  They shot video of the boys playing games and trains, eating a snack, swinging outside, and reading a book.

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It was a very long day.

One week went by, then another.  We weren’t sure if the footage was chopped, if it was being saved for Autism Awareness Month, or if this story was going to air at all.

February 25 is the 10-year anniversary of the founding of Autism Speaks, and Good Morning America celebrated the date with an interview with Bob and Suzanne Wright, their daughter and grandson, and US for your viewing pleasure at 1:30 into the segment.

Don’t blink, though, or you’ll miss it.  Some people get fifteen minutes of fame.  I’m happy with our 10 seconds.

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Good Day Sunshine!

Sometimes (okay…almost always) holidays and school breaks give me a nervous twitch. They throw off my kiddo’s routines, and we’re constantly looking for a cheap way to entertain and exhaust our big boys. When the weather is chilly and skies dreary, Thing 1 and Thing 2 tend to plug into their iPads or destroy the house.  Usually it’s a mix of both.  Thank goodness for sunshine and temperatures thawing on Monday. Nana and I packed up the kids and had a great day at Maymont!

We started at the Nature Center, then visited the wildlife exhibits.  The boys are always fascinated with the bridges, tiny waterfalls, and animals.  In the spring and summer, we like to play in the gardens.

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The boys also tested the laws of gravity.  What goes up…

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…must come down.

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Monkey see, monkey do.

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Mission accomplished.  That is one seriously tired middle child.

2015/01/img_0986.jpgBut not too tired for a pitstop at Carytown Cupcakes on our way home.  We LOVE this place!  I shared a couple bites of my carrot cupcake with the baby.  Judging by that sweet face, I think he approves.

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2015/01/img_0990.jpgThe day made me think of the Beatles song… I need to laugh, and when the sun is out I’ve got something I can laugh about.  I feel good, in a special way.  I’m in love and it’s a sunny day.

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F*** You, 2014!

Talk about a roller coaster of a year.

The year started with the unexpected death of my mother-in-law.  It’s hard to believe she’s been gone almost a year.  Even though we did not have a warm and fuzzy relationship, she loved her grandsons, and I’m sad she did not have the opportunity to meet our youngest.

We also said goodbye to our 13-year-old greyhound, which started a dark time for our oldest.  I don’t really know if it was Bo’s absence, since Thing 1 cannot verbalize how he feels or hurts yet, but he used Bo for a lot of sensory needs.  He liked to lay on the dog, listen to Bo breathing.  When he stopped getting that input,  it started a summer of nonstop emotional meltdown and self-injury, screaming, crying, and breaking toys and furniture.  The cherry on top: he was about to age out of Virginia’s insurance law that requires health insurance companies cover autism behavior therapy, specifically ABA.  We were facing this massive hurdle, and at the stroke of midnight on M’s 7th birthday, his services turned into a pumpkin and mice.  As parents, it was heartbreaking to be unable to understand what was wrong or how to fix it until finally, something clicked, and Matthew came out of the fog.IMG_2908

In that same stretch of summer, our second child was diagnosed with Autism.  Going through the evaluation process again, hearing the same outcome…talk about a sucker punch.  At least we could form an action plan quickly, with a been-there-done-that bravado.

But this is how I really feel…

Fuck Autism.  And fuck this year of Autism.

No one asks to be in this club, but we will move mountains to get my kids the services they need and deserve.  This is life, and you have to play the hand you’re dealt.  Although sometimes I’d like to punch that dealer in the face.

The best thing about 2014 is Thing 3.  We had a baby in April, and he is amazing!  I love everything about him.  I love how much he adores his brothers.  I love how quickly he learns new things.  I love his babbles.  He brings so much joy and enthusiasm to our home.

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Despite the oldest’s tough summer, he now skips and hops through life, gives hugs, and uses more language.   Our wild middle child is thriving at school.  The baby is happy and healthy.  And my husband and I swear and snark way too much…but we swear and snark together.  I’m thankful for the friendships we made this year with other parents of special needs children, where we can talk about melatonin, our children streaking, and poop without raising eyebrows.  We call them “our people.”

My hopes for 2015…

I hope Thing 1 and Thing 2 continue to grow their language skills.  I love hearing their voices use words, sing songs, and recite their favorite television episodes.

I am thankful my husband has a job that pays the bills, but I hope he finds work that satisfies him intellectually and emotionally.  He’s a smart, hard worker who should be appreciated more.

I can’t wait to see the baby boy take his first steps.

I hope my local School Board members pull their heads out of their asses for a few minutes. Just let me teach!

I hope anyone reading this blog writes their Virginia General Assembly representatives (find yours here), telling them to raise the age cap on Virginia Code Section 38.2-3418.17 so children beyond the age of six have easier access to ABA.

Whether moving up, down, sideways, or upside down, I hope you have someone sitting beside you on the roller coaster.

Happy New Year!!

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Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.  The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

IMG_0728The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

IMG_0669And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.  When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.  More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!  On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!  To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!  Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.  So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

IMG_0767And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.  A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

IMG_0759His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!  His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.  He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!  A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.  And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

IMG_0802He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

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Let me introduce myself…

Has anyone suggested you start blogging because your life is perceived to be stranger or funnier than fiction?  Well…

Welcome to Far Beyond Zebra, my first attempt at blogging about life as a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and teacher.  Here you will find my musings, ramblings, and sometimes rants as I raise an infant and two autistic boys, maintain a home to three generations, teach U.S. history to seventh graders, and try to find what’s “normal” for our family.  You know those sitcoms where everything seems to go wrong and high jinks keep the audience laughing, but in the end someone learns a lesson and goes to bed knowing he or she is loved despite any shortcomings?  That’s us.  I’m far from perfect, my kids are no angels, but we live honestly and love each other “just the way you are” (to quote my oldest son).

I hope to share information here about products and recipes I love, parenting insights, autism advocacy, and classroom tips.  It’s a random hodgepodge, but so is life.  And in the words of Dr. Seuss, “There’s no limit to how much you’ll know, depending on how beyond zebra you go.”

Thanks for stopping by,

Kate