Apple Brown Betty

Mollie was the little chef yesterday and she made Apple Brown Betty. I had a hankerin' for this simple dessert after my friend, Amanda and I reminisced about Flintlock Camp last week. Flintlock was the summer camp I went to every year from the time I was seven years old until I was fifteen. My big sister and I went together for several of those years and we would stay an entire month. Back then, in the early 80's there was no email or Internet and the only contact we were allowed to have with our family was through snail mail. Reading those old letters is such a fun thing to do. I'll post some of them when I get a chance. We were never homesick, although I always wrote my mother saying I was. I guess I wanted her to know I missed her. Flintlock was not a cushy camp. It was rugged as possible. We slept in platform tents in the middle of the woods on bunk beds with 6 fellow tent mates and one counselor. We fell asleep each night to the sound of crickets and frogs. We woke when our eyes filled with the sunrise and the sound of Revel re on the bugle. All 56 or so campers would head down to the Quiet Place by the lake and sit on wooden benches while the camp director named Bootie would read an inspiring devotional. Then we would jump in the lake for a quick dip called the Polar Bear Club. I do not know to this day a better way of starting one's day than this. After breakfast and tent inspections, we would spend the entire day doing horseback riding, arts and crafts, singing, playing games, going on hikes, learning about nature, and swimming. After lunch, we would have rest hour. The afternoons were just as busy and fun filled as the mornings and then we would all gather in the mess hall for supper. The food at Flintlock was delicious. I am not sure if it was because we were all hungry but everyone ate whatever was served. We did not have a canteen or snacks unless you found some berries or crab apples around the barn to pick. At supper, there was always a yummy dessert. My favorite was Apple Brown Betty. I am not sure what the Flintlock Recipe was, but I tried to make it from the memory of the taste and I checked out a few recipes in some old cookbooks. I don't remember Flintlock's having oatmeal in it, but several recipes I read included it. Any way, give it a try and enjoy!
Ingredients: 6 slices whole wheat bread cut crusts off and tear into bite size pieces, 3 Granny Smith Apples (peeled and sliced thinly), 1 1/2 Cups dark brown sugar, 1 stick of real butter (salted) Directions: preheat oven to 375. Grease a baking dish with butter (we used a 9 inch pie dish). Layer bread pieces, apples, and brown sugar, repeat layers until all ingredients are used. We made 3 layers. Then place pads of butter all over the top. Bake for about 20 minutes or until apples are fork tender. Serve with vanilla icecream or whip cream.

Beach Trip 2010

During our recent trip to Fripp Island, I didn't have any urges to jump out of a moving vehicle or get divorced, so, that must mean this trip was better than the trip we went on to St. Simons.

You see, when we had our car accident back in September, our portable DVD players got broken. I decided not to replace them having the mindset of one of those wonderful mothers who don't have television and help their children grow creatively. And having the mindset that my children are extraordinary children, they know how to behave in the minivan even during long journeys.

"Honey, do you want to replace the DVD player before our trip?" Adrian asked.

"Oh, heavens no, sweetie! We'll play 20 questions and I know like over 500 folk songs we can sing. Don't you worry, we'll pass the time doing math fact quizzes, the alphabet game and I'll even tell some of my famous funny stories!" I explained.

"Ok, whatever you say." Adrian noted.

"Don't worry, everything will be just fine." I assured him.

Well, scroll down to the Spring Break post and you can read all about that infamous road trip if you must. Or you can take my word for it that traveling with 7 people for 8 hours is utterly and completely hell. It is like getting a root canal because the little high pitched squeals they let out when their sister is touching them actually shoots nerve pain right up to your freakin' brain!

Well, as we were preparing for our next journey, Adrian came up to me as I was sorting through every one's belongings, (ie sniffing clothes to find out if they were too dirty to pack, cause let's face it, I do too much laundry as it is and suffer from carpal tunnel from pushing the start button 5 times a day) he gave me a hug, looked into my eyes and said,

"Baby doll, it is almost your birthday and I know you know 500 folk songs, but I would like to be friends with you this trip and I don't want to be dropping you off at a mental institution on the way there, and I think you are getting PMS, so I believe with my whole heart that we NEED a portable DVD player. Can we get one? Please?"

"Heck yes!"

So, we went to Wally World and spent $165.00 which practically pays for itself if you figure in the cost of sedating everyone for 7 hours there and 7 hours back.

This time, I also bribed with candy. We ate lots of candy on the way there. I discovered coconut M&Ms and I had an epiphany while I ate them.

Once we got to the beach house, we were greeted by my sisters and my brothers-in-law, my Mama, and my niece and nephew, AND we were reunited with our teenagers, Jolie and Sydney who had gone to Fripp the week before with my mother and were eagerly awaiting us to join them (not.) It was a sweet family reunion and I was so happy to be able to hug all my loved ones at the same time. And even though it made us all miss Boompa even more than usual, which is a whole bunch, being with everyone at this special place made me feel like he was enjoying it too. He would be happy we were at Fripp-his favorite place. And I think he would be happy we were all brave enough to go knowing our hearts would break missing him. I did little things for him in case he was watching. I rode some waves. I played in the sand without freaking out, throwing my sensory issues to the wind. We told lots of Boompa stories to the kids so they will always know how funny he was and how amazing he was.

The next morning, Adrian, Fischer, Madison, Jack, and Jennifer left bright and early to get on a chartered boat to go on a deep sea fishing adventure! Fischer caught a barracuda bigger than him! He also caught shark and lots of bait fish. In fact, he caught the black bass which he then used as bait for the barracuda. The other fishermen caught things too but they mostly let Fischer have the experience of a life time. Anyone who knows our little 9 year old knows what a fisherman he is. He didn't even get sea sick even though the boat ride was apparently choppy.

We celebrated my birthday and I am happy to be 36. I know you shouldn't trust a woman who tells her age, but I just feel like so much is behind me and so much is still ahead of me now. 36 is a pretty darn good age to be. I have grey hairs and the body of a woman who has had five kids and not like the freaky women who have had five kids and still look like they did in high school. I have reached the point in my life where I accept myself. I can look in the mirror and say, I am what I am and it's lovely enough for me.

We ate a lot of delicious food. We all took turns cooking and everyone showed off their skills. We ate some Spanish Mackerel which was caught by Uncle Madison, some shark caught by Fischer, and some crabs caught by Uncle Jack and Sydney. We ate Frogmore Stew (which doesn't involve cooking actual frogs if anyone reading this just gagged.) We ate enchiladas, mama's world famous (at least it should be) lasagna, and so much more. We even bought the cool cereal variety pack! I'm tellin' you, this was totally awesome. I remember my mother buying the variety pack when we were little and went to Fripp Island! All those cute little boxes filled with sugary sweetness! And if you put it in a bowl with milk, it can still be considered (by some) (me) a healthy breakfast.

We rode bikes, swam, jumped waves, caught sand dollars, found shells, played, read, relaxed, kayaked, observed various wildlife including a scary up close a personal experience with a raccoon, and much, much more.

The trip back home was just as awesome as the one there. All the kids were glued to the DVD player and their mouths were plugged with lollipops and sugar. Adrian and I got to talk the entire way, and by that I mean, having real conversations like normal grown ups get to have. Sometimes we didn't talk at all because sometimes we don't know what to say when we aren't interrupted every five seconds. I may not be a granola mother earth who protects her children from the influences of movies and sugar, but I am sane. And that's all I got to say for now. Peace! (scroll down for pictures)

Fripp Trip

Adrian and the kids on Father's Day

Jolie
Hosford pulling Nicholas

Mollie on the frog

Wo Jo and Mollie

Su Su and Hosford

Nicholas, Wo Jo, Mollie, Sydney and Fischer

Nicholas

I LOVE my sisters!

Mollie

Mollie is the fourth child out of five in this family. She is five years old and just finished kindergarten. She has a way with words and she cracks me up daily. We often comment on "Mollie-isms" but we have to be careful not to encourage her to be funny on purpose. She's just funny when she's being herself not thinking about it. Here are just a few highlights this week.

Fischer: Mollie, do you like Hannah Montana?

Mollie: Well, yes, but you wouldn't understand.

Fischer: Wouldn't understand what?

Mollie: I know you are going to say she is doing bad stuff but just because she's sexy doesn't mean she's not good. Any ways, I like being sexy. It's pretty. And she sings good too.

Fischer: Well, you know she dances on a stripper pole.

Mollie: What's a stripper pole?

Fischer: I am not sure, but I think it's bad.

Mollie: Mom, what's a stripper pole?

Me: Um, well, I think it's just a pole and some dancers swing around it and they take their clothes off.

Fischer: (laughs)

Mollie: Well, I wouldn't do THAT!! That is silly! 'Cause if you are swinging around a pole you could get really hurt. You might fall and then you couldn't be a good singer if you fall down and you'd be all like, 'Ahhh, I am so hurt!' "

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Yesterday, Mollie said her bedtime prayer in a British accent. I asked her afterwards if she thought that was reverent or not and she said (still in the British accent), "Of course it is! Don't be silly."

And I said, "I am not being silly. Talking to God is really sweet and He looks forward to hearing from you every day. He may not understand what you are saying with that accent. I think you should try again and be sincere this time, please."

So, she closed her eyes and was quiet for a minute. Then, she opened them and said, "I hope it is OK with you that I said a silent prayer that time."

"That's fine, honey. Sometimes those are the best ones."

"So, do you think God liked it?"

"I know He did!"

Then she started giggling as I was walking out the door.

I paused outside the room and I heard her say, "Nicholas, she doesn't know I can talk in a British accent in my own head!"

Goodnight, Mollie.

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Mollie woke up this morning and still had the British accent. She came upstairs and asked me, "What is for breakfast, Mother Darling, and can I please have an English Muffin?"

I asked her what the accent was all about and she said she was practicing for when she grows up. So, I asked her what she wants to do when she grows up.

"Well, Mother Darling, (as she sips her orange juice with her pinkie up) I would like to be a ballerina, which you already know, but I just found out yesterday I would like to be in the Army too."

"The Army? Really?"

"Oh, yes, Mother Dear. Yesterday Fischer told me girls can be in the Army and they have a cafeteria there with an ice cream machine and then Daddy told me you can get as much ice cream as you want. So, I am going to go there AND be a ballerina at the same time."

"That makes sense."

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Ohhh, I wish they could stay five years old for longer than one year. It is almost a shame they have to grow up and become people.

P.S. I removed the story about finding hope. I was only leaving it here temporarily for several reasons. Thank you for all the love which has been showering over me this week. I am such a lucky woman!

Why you should never tell the school you are good parents, really.

Want to hear a funny story?

OK, so our daughter, Sydney was in the first grade and wasn't doing well in school at all. (4 years later, we discovered she had an undiagnosed learning disability but let's not travel down that road right now.) All right... so, Sydney's teacher called me into yet another conference. The teacher actually suggested to my face that perhaps Sydney's troubles in school stem from problems in the home. (Oh, yes she did say those words to me.) I of course assured the teacher that this was certainly not the case.

"Not that we are a perfect family, but we seem to be doing a pretty good job raising our family and Adrian and I love being parents. We're good people, I promise. Sydney has problems in school but it has nothing to do with us. We ARE good parents, really."

While I was enduring this awful conference, Adrian was at a meeting about 50 miles away. I expected him to be home in time for dinner at 6:00. Of course I called his cell phone several times to get what he likes to call, "The play by play." He never answered or returned any of the 20 messages I left. I cursed him for forgetting to charge his phone and then forgave him and went about my business.

Hours passed by and not a peep from Adrian. I repeatedly checked the phone to make sure the ringer was on. I called friends and asked them to call me so I could check if my phone was still receiving incoming calls. I called Adrian's friends and asked if they had heard from him. I tried to put my worryin' out of my mind, but something just kept telling me something was really wrong.

I put the kids to bed (back then, we only had 3 kids so that was a piece of cake.) I cleaned up the supper dishes and paced back and forth wondering where oh where my husband could be. I decided to make a list of hospitals anywhere near he was going to be and I called them all asking if they had Adrian. Nope, no Adrian in the hospital. I couldn't sleep and it was getting really, really late.

At 1:00 am, the phone rang! It was a collect call from "an inmate" from the Gwinnett Detention Center!

Adrian had about 5 seconds to tell me what happened, so in other words, he couldn't explain anything. He just told me where he was and to come get him.

Well, I had to call a Bail Bondsman first. Isn't it so cool I figured out how to do that? Actually, I had called the Jail back after they made Adrian hang up and they told me what to do but they wouldn't or couldn't tell me what they had arrested him for.

I started thinking. Do I even know my husband? Does he lead a secret life? Is he a criminal and I don't even know it? Have I been living a lie?

Next, I had to wake up the children and put them in the car. Then we had to drive more than an hour away in the middle of the night to find this bail bondsman place. The children were scared and crying probably because I kept getting lost and saying, "Shit, shit, shit" a lot. Their little voices were trembling, "Whhh whhh where's Daddy?" Whh whhhh whhhy are we driving in the middle of the night? Whhhhy are you saying bad words?"

I just couldn't tell them we were out looking for the bail bondsman to bail their father out of jail since I had no idea what he was doing in there. So I just said that Daddy's car broke down and we have to go get him. We're going to the car repair man. "Yes, I said repair man, sweetie, not Bail man."

We finally found the bail bondsman and then we had to follow her to the jail. I thought I could just wait in the parking lot so my babies and I wouldn't have to get out of the car. They didn't even have shoes on.

Nope, I had to go with the bail bondsman who was actually a woman and a pretty darn fierce looking woman at that, and I wasn't about to leave my babies in the car. Turns out she was a bounty hunter as well. The kids were already scared and feasting their little innocent, small- town eyes on this, um, car repair woman and the slew of real, live weird-os walking around the jail at 3:00 in the morning made them horrified.

I carried all three children at once, two on my hips and one on my back. We got into the lobby of the jail and the guard told me the bondsman and I had to go post bail in the jail but no children were allowed and they had to stay in the lobby.

I can only imagine how I appeared to these people. Disheveled house wife with three children clinging on to her like koala bears, standing in the lobby of a jail to spring her husband out of the pokey.

There were some weird-os in the lobby too. I was afraid. Surely this was a practical joke. Where's the hidden camera? Of course, I said, no way jose cuervo, I am not leaving my babies in here alone. And the big, black as night bounty hunter shot me a look and said, "You come with me now and leave your children right there. You weren't supposed to bring your kids here in the first place. What were you thinking?"

"Well, I am sorry but it is the middle of the night and I couldn't just leave them at home! Excuse me!" I unclenched my children from my back and my sides and plopped them in a chair, covered them up with a blanket and told them to hold hands the whole time I was gone and not to let go no matter what. I told the guard he better not let anyone lay a hand on my babies. He wouldn't even look at me. He just shook his head at the bail bondsman and rolled his eyes.

Then, Jolie, my oldest, who was 9 years old at the time, pointed to the big letters across the wall and asked, "Mommy, what is Gwinnett Detention Center? Are we like in a jail? What did Daddy do?"

"Hey, um, that's interesting. Good reading, sweetie."

I posted bail with the bail bondswoman and they released Adrian. Adrian came walking out looking like he had been in jail for years instead of hours. They had taken his shoelaces and everything! It was the most pitiful thing to see him run, hobbling unsteadily into my arms with his shoes flippin' and a floppin' with each step to seek warmth and compassion and to cry on my shoulder.

"What in the hell have you done?" I asked.

"Nothing, I promise! It's all a big mistake!"

"Yeah, that's what they all say," said the bounty hunter.

"I will explain everything on the way home." Adrian whimpered.

Well, we got back home around 4:00 in the morning. Adrian's story was legit. It turns out he got pulled over for speeding and the computer said there was a warrant out for him due to an outstanding speeding ticket from 1980 in North Carolina. (NO, reader, I am not kidding.)

Well, we knew all about that mess since when Adrian went to apply for a new license a few years previously, this ticket had come up. From 1980!! The county in North Carolina had just updated their computers and they were going after all these old tickets. It was like a ten dollar fine back then and Adrian swore he paid it. However, to get his license, he had to pay it again. He did and it was all water under the bridge.

However, with their new fancy dancy computer program, they failed to update his status that it was paid (again) even though Georgia renewed his license.

When we got home, we literally tore apart the house because Adrian was convinced he had saved the receipt from North Carolina for paying the ticket from 1980 again. The kids stayed home from school because they were out all night picking up their father after "his car had broken down."

The next day, Adrian had to appear in court and he had the receipt from North Carolina! The judge said he was sorry for the misunderstanding and waived the new speeding ticket since having to stay in jail for 12 hours without the ability to make a phone call and having to spend $350.00 for bail was punishment enough. Not to mention he almost had a heart attack while he was in there and they had to give him a blood pressure pill! Oh, and he had to use a community toilet with his fellow inmates, all who were hard core criminals and he had to lay on the floor using his shoes as a pillow while he waited for 12 hours to pass so the jail could collect money from the state for housing him for a whole "day," and we had to pay an arm and a leg to get his car out of impoundment along with a hefty towing fee.

Any way..... so, the following day, the kids return to school. Sydney's teacher who had been soooo on my case all year long for being a bad mother for having a bad kid who couldn't read and write or follow directions, saw Jolie and Sydney in the hall way coming to school. "So, Sydney, why weren't you in school yesterday?"

"I am not supposed to tell." She replied

"You can tell me, it's OK." said the teacher.

"Um, we had to go get my dad out of prison." Sydney said. Then Jolie apparently hit her and said, "You weren't supposed to tell!"

And yeah, um... all that explaining that we were a fine family and Sydney's problems in school had nothing to do with us just fell on deaf ears after that.

I tried for 10 days to contact Sydney's teacher. I left voice mails.

"Um, hi, Mrs. Groce. This is Sydney's mom. I understand Sydney has told you we picked up her dad from prison. Well, it's just a misunder.... BEEEEEP!"

"Hi, it's me again, Abigail. Sorry, the voice mail cut out. Any way, I was just trying to explain that... BEEEEEEPPPP!"

"Ok, one more time. It was all a misunderstanding. See, back in 1980, Adrian got a BEEEEPP!"

"Voice mail box is full."

"Damn!"

"Sydney, please tell Mrs. Groce that Daddy was not in prison and he is not a criminal. No, actually, don't say that. That sounds like we're trying to cover for him. Um, how about just smile and tell her the police man made a mistake and Daddy didn't do anything wrong. Wait, no, that still sounds bad."

Any way...eventually, I got to talk to Mrs. Groce. She just held up her hand and said, "Hey, it's OK, it's none of my business."

And I was like, "But my husband didn't do anything wrong and he was not in prison! Well, he was in jail, but it was all a big mistake from 1980! Can you believe that? See, it's rather funny, isn't it?"

She didn't laugh.

And this is why you should never make any formal declarations that you are good parents because fate will teach you a lesson and you might just end up someplace without your shoelaces.

To Spank or Not to Spank?

I write a weekly advice column called Ask Lula Belle for the White County News and the Towns Sentinel. Last year, someone wrote me seeking advice about spanking children. A few months later, I was asked to publish it again. Last week, I was asked to run the column again for the third time. It seemed to have struck a nerve with many parents as I got both fan mail and hate mail both times it ran. I am still sticking to my story that I do NOT believe spanking is an effective form of discipline and with 20 years experience working with children and 16 years experience being a mother, I only become more convinced that I was right all along to follow my instincts when I was a young and dumb mother for the first time. I sure as heck didn't know what I was doing the first time but I just kept following my heart. Spanking my children just never felt like the right thing to do.

As a preschool teacher for 7 years, I could pretty much tell right away which of my students were spanked at home and which were not. The ones who had to endure spankings at home were the more aggressive children and the worst problem solvers. They also had a much harder time respecting me because they felt like they were really able to get away with making trouble since I was not going to ever hit them. In fact, they would try to push me to see how far they could go and to see if they could ever get a reaction out of me other than a gentle reminder on how to behave in school and a time out. Time out to them was a joke.

On the other hand, I consistently found that the children who never received any discipline at home (and that means proper teaching and training, by the way) were just so lost and clueless on how to behave. Those students were usually not defiant, but would often times just do whatever they pleased and were rather impulsive. Those were the students who would unlock the gate at the playground and run off because they decided they wanted to play inside. They were the most disruptive at circle time and had a hard time understanding time out and would manipulatively tell me I was a mean teacher.

The students who were properly disciplined at home were the easiest to teach. They were respectful and kind to their friends. Sure, they would make mistakes but usually just a gentle reminder would put them back on track. These students would sit in time out when necessary and would be able to start over, correcting their own behavior when it was time to come back to the group, ready to try again with a new attitude.

It is important to teach children real life skills they can use in the future. I promise, promise, promise that there will be no place in their future where spanking or hitting will be acceptable. They cannot do it at school, work, or in a marriage. So, why do parents use spanking as a method of teaching and training a child? What message does it really send? "You, small innocent child have made a mistake and so now I am going to hit you?" Will the child say to herself, "OK, that hurt so I will never make a mistake again because I am afraid of getting hurt by the one person in the world who is supposed to love me no matter what?" Um... If that theory really worked, a spanked child would not make mistakes. But that is not the case because young children are learning and they will make many, many mistakes because it is just the way it is.

The important thing to think about is not preventing mistakes, but to focus on teaching many beautiful lessons for your child. And who in the world can really think about things when they are afraid or upset or if someone is hitting them? Try it, ask your husband or wife to make you study Chinese for and hour and then quiz you on what you have learned. While they are quizzing you, tell them to smack you every time you make a mistake.

Then, ask your husband or your wife to make you study Chinese for an hour but this time, ask them to be encouraging and loving every time you make a mistake while they quiz you. And if you really goof up, let it be OK for you to take a time out to really process all you are trying to learn. And how about a hug afterwards? Wouldn't that be better? Don't you think you would be eager to learn Chinese this way? Perhaps you would really resent learning Chinese if someone spanked you every time you messed up.

When I have to witness a child getting spanked, I just about fall apart because I can actually feel the shame and hurt the child is feeling. When it is happening, the child looks like a dog who has just been kicked for peeing on the carpet. With its tail between its legs, the dog will hopefully learn to only go potty outside, but it will always walk with its head down and will be scared of your foot everytime it see it. When the child is spanked, especially in public, I can feel the humiliation. I can feel the child's loss of self respect. When a parent is spanking a child, you might as well be saying, "I think you are an animal and I think you are too stupid to learn your lesson by listening to me teach it to you patiently, so I am just gonna whack you across the behind in this store in front of everyone so you will be too scared to keep telling me you are too tired to shop with me today." That's what a spanking is. It is a tool to make your children hurt, scared and humiliated in hopes they will stop behaving in a way that displeases the parent.

You know your child is not stupid. They are not animals. They are VERY sensitive little people. Whatever you do is ultimately shaping who they are. It is important to send the message that you think they are smart and capable of learning. Even if they really are driving you crazy in the store, it is better to LEAVE the store, take a break and try again. Maybe they truly are too tired to go shopping. Maybe if you hug them and let them know you UNDERSTAND how they feel, you can sorta compromise. "Hey, darling. You are being really fussy in this store. Are you tired or hungry?" "Uh, huh." "OK, I'll tell you what. I really need to get this shopping done. I am going to hurry as fast as I can and I won't waste any time just looking around aimlessly or buying stuff we don't need. We are going to do it together super fast and you can be my helper. As soon as we are finished, I am going to buy you a new hair bow or a new chapstick or a piece of candy as a reward for being such a good helper and I am going to let YOU pick it out. Ready? Let's do it!" Then make a game out of finding everything really fast. Run with the cart. It is fun.

See, in this example the child wasn't doing anything "wrong" to begin with. A child having a melt down does not need a punishment. They are just trying to tell you something important!! Like, listen up, mommy, I have had a really hard day and I need a nap and I am hungry and you are taking way too long in this store and I feel like I need a hug!" When a child is having a melt down, he or she is really just trying to share their feelings and if the parent isn't listening, they will get really, really loud about it. But if the parent knows that the melt down is the cue to listen and be understanding, the child will learn how to talk about their feelings and trust the parent will help them feel better.

Haven't you ever had a melt down as a grown up? PMS, hello! Your husband makes you mad. You have a horrible day at work. You get home and you feel totally overwhelemd by all you have to do and you yell at everybody and you cry. What makes it better? A. Your husband spanks you for yelling in the house. B. Your husband tells you to be quiet and get over it because life is hard. or C. Your husband realizes that your day really sucked and gives you a hug and tells you to just lay down because he is going to take care of dinner and that you can worry about all the things you have to do later when you feel better. I know when I have a bad day, I feel better when the people who love me support me. I know when my husband takes over my "duties" for a little while that after I rest for about 30 minutes, I join in with a spring in my step and a song in my heart because I feel so loved and understood.

Of course, parents who spank always argue with me about what to do when the child has really, really crossed a line. Let the punishment fit the crime and all that. Some parents say they only spank if the child is doing something dangerous or if the child is too small to understand a lecture about cars in the parking lot or they only spank if the child hits another person or bites them or whatever.

All I can say is that if you begin early by being a loving, patient teacher and begin time outs early, the child will "get it" before they are 2 years old. They will still make mistakes, but the cool thing is that they will learn how to talk about it with you respectfully and will be really good listeners.

"Take away" is a great consequence. It is important to teach a young child about consequences. When you make good choices, good things happen and when you make bad choices, bad things happen. Taking away toys or privileges and then allowing the child the opportunity to earn it back is an excellent way to train a child.

If I am raising five children without spanking, then you can too. And don't think for a minute I have "easy children." They are no different than any other child. They each have strengths and weaknesses. All children can be stubborn sometimes and all children can be lazy sometimes. All children can be rebellious. All children can wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Being a parent will take you on a journey of really high highs and really low lows. But the number one job of a parent is to be a teacher. 85% of what they need to know, they will learn from you. And if you teach them that hitting someone can somehow solve a problem, you are doing them a disservice because it won't work any where else in their lives. Not at school, not at work, and not in a marriage.

A letter to my son

Dear Nicholas,

It has been a year since we learned you have PDD-NOS. I admit I cried all the way home from Atlanta after the developmental pediatrician told us. A part of me was hoping he would say the things that I'd been worried about were all in my head. When he said the word, "Autism," my heart broke. So many thoughts entered my head. Will you go to regular school? Will you live with us forever? Will you learn to drive a car? Will you have a job? Will you make real friends your own age? Will you fall in love? Will you get married and have a family?

I apologize for talking about you in front of you sometimes like you're not even in the room. I am sorry for explaining PDD-NOS to strangers and friends like you can't hear what I am saying. I am sorry I talk about developmental delays as if you don't have remarkable skills other than speech development. I admit Autism has consumed me for most of this year and each time I talked about it, it helped me deal with it. Every time I read a book about it, I felt better and every time I shared what I learned, I felt empowered.

Although, during this past year, I have learned more from you and your big brother and sisters than from any books I have read. I have learned there are many ways to think. No two minds are alike and your mind happens to be even more special than average. I have learned not to judge anyone, especially a child. I have learned not to put God in a box because God is more awesome than I once believed. I have learned that there are more ways to communicate and sometimes taking words out of the picture gives everything a deeper meaning. I have learned to trust my mother's intuition more. I have learned to take things one day at a time. I have learned to be more patient. And most importantly, I have learned that all in all, my concerns for you are absolutely no different from the concerns I have for your brother and sisters. I want the same things for each of you. I want y'all to grow up happy, spiritually minded people who will be passionate in life. I want y'all to spread goodness and love. I want y'all to be anything and everything you want to be. Nothing will stand in your way because any walls that you can't knock down yourself, Daddy and I will knock them down for you and any walls we can't knock down, your grandmothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, friends, teachers, and our community will jump right in there with us and we can knock them down together. Nothing will be impossible for you. And that goes for each of our five children.

I am sorry that from time to time I forget at the end of the day, you are just Nicholas. You are not Autism. You are a human being who maybe thinks differently and grows differently, but no two people are alike any way, so it doesn't matter if you have a diagnosis or not.

I believe at the core, each and everyone of us has one question. We ask many people along our journey in life, "Am I accepted?" I truly believe this is our eternal question. We all desire and seek acceptance, pure acceptance to be loved unconditionally. And for you, Jolie, Sydney, Fischer and Mollie, the answer is YES! Daddy and I love you and accept you exactly as you are, no strings attached. This means we wouldn't change anything about any of you even if we could.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is a year ago I was devastated and in twelve short months, you showed me hope. I am so grateful for your school, Challenged Child and Friends. I am grateful for your teachers and your speech and occupational therapists who look at you and just see Nicholas. I love that at school, everyone focuses on your abilities and not anything else. Reading the notes they send home letting me know you were the line leader, or you were the door holder, or you tried to go potty, or you cut with scissors on your own, or you can read everyone's name on the felt board, makes me the proudest mommy on the block. When I see you with your little back pack on, smiling and happy to be a big boy at school, I know in my heart, everything is going to be just fine.