Bleh bleh and bleh. You’re welcome.

I cut and pasted a real email to my apparently not real husband who can’t be human since tics don’t bug him at all. See below. Perhaps you can relate? And if you can’t, tell me how you are so un-nerved by vocals? Inquiring minds want to know.

Hi –

Hope work is going okay today. I printed out the code for the WiFi – thanks! It’s working.

WARNING: Repeat Whine Ahead but it’s better than real wine at 12PM so deal with it:

I’m suddenly feeling very very sad due to all these squeaks. Oh, well. I will get through this ticky time. I will. It’s just been worse than normal.

Because I can hear your voice in my brain, let me say that yes, I accept he has T.S..

I accept we did EVERYTHING we could do (still are) and he’s doing waaaay better than he would be without the Intuniv.

I accept that even I’m in a better place than I was last year or before that.

But I do not accept that my emotions occasionally go into the toilet when he tics.

I can’t fix tics, but how do I fix feeling yukky about them? How do I feel okay? I am praying about it and giving it to God.

What’s the answer? That sometimes life is just hard and that, like the cycle of the tics, I’ll have good and bad days?

I just wish I could handle the tics like Stink does – where they don’t bug him and it’s just a part of who he is. I’m just not there.

On that note, the house is clean and we’ll have a lovely meal. Because, you know, I rock.

Love you –


PS: Just got off the scale and am 8 pounds over my happy weight and that, frankly, blows.

PSS: But not as much as tics.

* Photo taken of Miss L, Pip and Stink at one of their thrice weekly playdates this summer. Normally I don’t allow dogs at the table, but I made an exception for this one.


And…They’re Back!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have had two weeks of non-stop excitement from birthday parties to sleepovers to Wii time to pool dates and, lo and behold, the tics are back!

Introducing, the squeaky gulp. It is happiest when interrupting Stink’s sentences at a rate of 20 times/minute, but it will make its appearance during quiet times, reading, chewing and teeth brushing.

While it is doing its best to unnerve me – and trust me – it’s doing a great job of it – I am hanging in there. I make no apologies for having my husband read bedtime stories to my little dude, wear ear plugs when needed, or just go for a walk (or 10) when I find myself losing it.

I refer to episodes like these as “Silver Bullet Denied”, for while I had hoped that the Intuniv would just blast these suckers away all together, alas, such is not the case. It is what is.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the tics I cannot change, change the tics I can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

And really, although I’m entitled to my pity party, I have so much to be grateful for. Just three hours earlier, my friend of 40 years asked me to visit her in the hospital.

“What can I bring you?” I asked, happy to finally have a chance to visit since her diagnosis two weeks ago.

“Bring your sharpest scissors,” she asked.

“Um… why?” I asked, not thinking she was planning on doing anything drastic, but it sounded odd.

“You’re giving me a haircut,” she said. “My hair will be gone by the weekend anyway, so at least get it off my shoulders. It’s so dry. I hate the clumps.”

“No problem!” I said.

One hour later, and a few snips that lasted five minutes due to her increasing chemo-induced headaches, she proudly sported a very short flapper hair cut.

“You’re like the Betty Paige of Leukemia,” I quipped.

She smiled and said she was tired, but asked me to come back Thursday.

I said I would and started to hug her goodbye.

She braced herself against the bed, and then I realized, “Oh, yeah. I can’t hug her. Her immune system is still too compromised. You’d think the surgical mask on my face would remind me. But no. Like thinking I can cure T.S., I’m a slow learner.”

Moms and dads, a cancer ward is not fun, but if my friend can name her chemo pumps Penelope and Kujo and dance on good days, we can get through T.S.. She will survive this – I know she will – and so will we! And so will our kids!


Photo above my daughter’s favorite ballerina from her tea party. Bella is pure joy, and if you think she’s bugged one ounce by the squeaky tic, you would be wrong! She just dances on her little fat paws and encourages tu tu girls everywhere to squeak with joy.



Stay a Julia Child at Heart

As the summer winds to a close, so does my ability to think past one minute intervals. I spend my beloved “free days” (days the kids go to friends’ homes due to trades) house cleaning, Ebaying, food shopping and hitting thrift stores. My soul is restless. I’ve barely written at all.

I can’t wait for the kids to leave the house for some much-needed structure beginning Thursday! But I know I’ll be sad as well. I love their little spirits so much. Their joy for life is infectious.

As I always say, joy and character far outweigh a few tics.

I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure Julia Child would agree! If she were still alive, I’d invite her into my meager kitchen to whip up an amazing gluten free caesin free meal. I’m not sure that would be possible, given she cooks with more pasta and butter than we buy supplements around this joint. But in my fantasy, she’d have a twinkle in her eye, pass me glass of red, and – as she says in this video, “Bring on the roasted potatoes!… I love to smell something cooking… makes me feel at home!”

I just want to hug her. On days I’m a bit down or fear the future, I’d just lay my noggin on her bad polyester shirted shoulder. She’d pat my back with that big paw of a hand she has. She’d cluck cluck that life isn’t always perfect. Then hand me a duck as big as my head and tell me it’s time to get cooking.

I hope you enjoy this video as much as I do. I literally cried when I first saw it. There’s something about her complete ease with herself that makes me feel that the world is okay.

And your son or daughter with the tics? Trust me… you keep on loving on them and they will be fine. Julia Child couldn’t cook until her mid forties, so don’t think you will find you peace with this nutty disorder in a day. But you will. And one day, how fun will it be for us to gather around your table and have a glass of wine together?

Bring on the roasted potatoes! Bring on Julia!


How Is Everyone Doing?

Well, the moment I write “tics are gone” they always come back. But they are still at a minimum and I am very happy with the Intuniv. Stink is still Stink: happy and charming and sometimes a bit toooo silly. But I’ll take that over a flatlined robot.

I don’t know about you all, but I am finally hitting the wall with this summer fun non-sense. If I do one more load of dishes, or fold anymore laundry, only to see it pile up again in the course of one hour, I will lose my brain.

My kids have gotten excessively argumentative and hyper. They need structure. Apparently there really can be too much of a good thing in terms of swimming, friends and hang out time. It’s time for a schedule!

As I type this, 4 kids are running through the house. I normally take them to the pool or the Y or even Grandma’s house. Today? I’m cleaning. My house looks like a giant petri dish.

In closing, I am pretty stoked that I have air condition in this weather! And while I’d kill for a house that has more shelving and a prettier kitchen, I’m pretty darn grateful for what I do have. Pandora music, some fresh coffee, health insurance and a family I love so much I could die? I’ll take it.

What’s new with you?

My fave new song to go with housecleaning!


Tics Gone Again!

3 things to report:

1. Tics are totally gone again. Amazing and so happy about that!

2. We met James Durbin at a local concert.

3. Refer to #2!

As you can tell from the photo, he was quite nervous as he was about to perform. Me? I’m clearly kind of happy about it. Stink and Pip? It basically went like this:

Stink:  “Mom, I’m playing pool!”

Me: “But don’t you want to take a pic with James Durbin?”

Stink: “After I’m done playing pool.”

Pip: “He is NOT your boyfriend.”

Me: “You little Shhhhts! Get over here!”

So they did. Ah, I was happy. More to come!

For the record, I really don’t have a crush on James Durbin. For gluten-free sake, he’s literally half my age. I’m just happy to see a kid who didn’t have it easy growing up and yet is so comfortable with himself. He is just such a rock star – literally. And while his heavy metal music is not my thing, his spirit and tenacity make him my little American Idol! And his voice? Wow. Can’t wait to see him cast in a Broadway show one day. (Hopefully my show!) Just goes to prove that T.S. or not, our kids can be who they are meant to be! Yeah, James!

In case you don’t know who this talent is, check out his single which he opened up the set with. “It’s time to see you stand up, let me see your hands up!”

And this is for Christy. Ahem. My public service good deed is done for the day. My slogan? Helping housewives everywhere discover new talent every day.