Today I felt grounded

I remember being grounded when I was a child (even though it was a rare thing since I was so well-behaved, as I'm sure my parents would attest to.)

Well, today brought those memories rushing back. If you have read the previous post, then you know the tv is no more. ILO is still top of the line in my book though. As many times as that thing was thrown on the floor, it literally took cracking the back open and pulling the cable out for it to no longer function. When the morning schedule consists of "All in the Family", "Sanford and Son", "The Jeffersons", and "Good Times" (ain't we lucky we got 'em) and then all of a sudden the morning schedule is, well, nothing, it's hard on all of us.

I suggested we cook a big breakfast, which would mean lots of time in the kitchen. He chose microwavable sausage biscuits, which take a whole 30 seconds to cook. I suggested cleaning his room. He insisted it was clean. I suggested taking a shower. He informed me in no uncertain terms that a shower was not in the plans. Oh how I longed for Fred Sanford!!! (And that's certainly a phrase I never thought I would say...)

So not only are we all bored to tears, we are also walking on eggshells waiting for a blow-up since there is nothing he wants to do. Finally it was time for him to go to work. Noon is a happy time around here.

Don't get me wrong, I am all for natural consequences. However, after today, I am also all for rushing out tomorrow and purchasing a new television.

The Deadly Hamburger

We have rocked along for almost a week now with no major problems. Minor yes, but those can be dealt with. Status quo changed this morning. Mood was a little up and down, but not too bad until he went to get a glass of water (or maybe I should say a plastic cup of water, because as you can probably guess, we try not to have anything glass in the house). All of a sudden, everything in the kitchen starts flying. I immediately call my supervisor for backup help while Ms. Cornstarch tried to calm him down.


We tried every distraction possible, but couldn't persuade him to do anything but continue to curse at us and throw things. Luckily, his aim is terrible. He flipped over the kitchen table and pulled down the curtains (which are velcroed to the wall - how ingenious is that for a house like ours??) Of course the tv went down. But this time, he didn't stop there. He ripped the cable out of the television and it stripped down to the wire. Along with the cable came the little piece that the cable attaches to, so it looks like a new television is in our future. Next came the microwave. We no longer have a handle. I'm not sure what that means for the microwave, but I am thinking it means we'll be getting a new one. (If you need new stuff, just let me know and I'll send him over. All you have to do to set him off is ask politely if he would like to change his jeans...)




Well then things got crazy. The other stuff had been fairly par for the course, but then he goes into the kitchen and emptying drawers of silverware and other utensils. Next he opens the freezer and pulls out a five pound frozen hamburger log. And he chases us around acting like he is going to throw it at us. Even at the time, we were laughing at the idea of that obituary - killed when hit in the head with frozen hamburger.


One thing we did notice today is that he did not even attempt to run upstairs to Camelot. Maybe we should all arm ourselves with plastic swords...

It's Getting Weirder All The Time!

We have a lady who comes in to work with us Monday through Friday. She can sometimes have an edge about her, but we really like her and completely appreciate the work she does and the relationships she has with the guys. Now that I have said nice things about her, I must say she has the strangest habit of anyone I've ever known.

The other day, I walk in to the persons served side of the home, and I see her sitting on the couch with a box of corn starch in her hand. She is watching television and I sit down with her. During a commercial, I glance over and see that she has this box of starch open, there is a straw stuck down in it and she is sucking it right out of the box.


If you know me, you know I am going to ask. She proceeds to explain that it's for her nerves and that she has been eating corn starch ever since she quit smoking cigarettes. I am really thinking that this must be some sort of practical joke, but she continues on about the texture and how it feels in her mouth, and that there isn't really a taste. The conversation continues as I learn how Argo used to have the best but they changed the packaging and now it tastes funny. Oh really??? Corn starch tastes funny??? What were they thinking? Now, the great value brand is what she goes for.

Still in some sort of disbelief, I get on the internet and learn that there are many people out there who have corn starch addictions. Mind you, most of them apparently are anemic and have other issues, but they are out there. I told her the next day that Clabbergirl gets rave reviews and that she is not the only one upset about the Argo switch. She tried Clabbergirl and said it was great, except for the packaging. She can't just use a straw and has to eat it with a spoon, which apparently changes the whole dynamics of the thing.

And to think I always thought corn starch was for making gravy - which reminds me I haven't yet blogged about gravy day. Another adventure, another day...

When the days all run together...

A couple of weeks ago, we took a trip to Kohl's to buy new jeans for one of the guys next door. He purchased about 4 new pairs and headed home. After a shower the next morning, he put on one of the new jeans and hasn't taken them off since. Well, not quite literally. He has taken them off to shower but only if we promise he can put them back on when he is done. And one night, he didn't sleep in them and I was able to wash, dry, and put them back before he woke up. So they have been washed once or maybe twice, but not much, and although they don't look dirty, I know I for one am ready to see him looking a little different. We truly all give a whole-hearted effort each day to convince this guy of all the reasons that different jeans would be a good idea. Since he isn't buying this, we, although we will still try, have given up fighting this particular battle and are focused more on winning the war. I mean really, if he is staying in the van, the tv is staying on the stand, and all the fixtures are staying on the wall, who cares what he is wearing, right???

Anyway, I guess this has caused my days to run together a little because the other day, I was going on and on about how nice Lowell looked and how I really liked the clothes he was wearing. Finally, he asked me if I was serious and when I said "yes" he informed me that they were the same clothes he had worn the day before and just hadn't had an opportunity to shower yet that day. For whatever reason, I liked the outfit so much today yet didn't even notice it yesterday. I guess seeing the "men in my life" wearing the same clothing over and over has made me somewhat numb to wardrobes. It's probably a sign of how crazy my life is that clean clothing has quickly become one of the little unimportant things.

Are We in Camelot???

On Tuesday of this week, (which by the way, should have been a good day as we seem to be on an every other day rotation) things started off with a bang. Literally. When I woke up and went next door at 7 am, I heard a banging coming from one of the rooms. I guess that was the first sign it wasn't going to be a good day.

Mr. Pop/TV/Rearview mirror guy normally comes out of his room with a smile, ready to take his morning medications and get his two dollars. He normally controls the behaviors relatively well until after the two bucks are in his wallet. This particular morning, I guess he woke up and decided he would rather hit some walls first.

After a few quick calls and texts to some backup help, I decided to try to divert attention to more positive activities, like maybe making breakfast. That worked long enough to get the meds down and breakfast checked off the list. Then, as you can probably guess if you've read older posts, as he was walking to his room and passed the TV, it got a good shove and landed on the floor. At this point, I decided to head back to my side of the duplex and watch the action from the half door while I made some phone calls. He pulled off the thermostat (we are constantly looking for the thermostat after these episodes - anybody else have that problem??) and then went to work on the doorbell. It was affixed pretty well, so it took a while to get that pulled off the wall, which was cool, because it bought us some time. While one staff member contained him in his room, Lowell and I went through the downstairs making it childproof. This means going ahead and making sure the furniture is already turned over, the remotes and phones are put away, the one decorative item in the house is in a cabinet, all the knobs are off the stove, the kitchen table is pushed up against the wall, and all of the chairs are in the garage. Once this was done, we were just going to let the bull out of the pen and act like the rodeo clowns trying to keep the rider as safe as possible. As we are thinking the medication should kick in SOON and bring some calm to the storm, the guy who "doesn't do stairs very well" charges upstairs to his housemates room. Staff yell out for him to lock his door, which he does, but then he quickly changes his mind too.

The next thing we know, he comes out of his room with a huge sword (which we later realized was plastic but looked real), gets up in the guy's face and yells "Get the (we'll say 'heck' to keep the reading censored and family friendly) out of my room!!!" And that was all it took. I guess that is what we call natural consequences, because he quickly comes back downstairs, begins to chill and asks for help cleaning up.

The Knight in Shining Armor carried about three swords around the whole day. And even though they were plastic, he didn't get messed with anymore.

Who uses the Red Box anyway??

So back in Benton, there were a group of stay-at-home moms who would meet at the local McDonalds on Thursday so that we could visit and our kids could play.

One such day not too long ago, we were discussing the McDonalds Red Box. Another friend said, "Does anybody really use that to rent movies?" And such began a vivid discussion of how great everyone who had used it thought it was. They told us about how they will often wait in line at the Red Box to rent or return a movie. A couple of us agreed we'd never seen a line or even thought about renting a movie at McDonalds. End of discussion and I didn't think much about it again until Monday.

Monday was a great day behavior-wise in our house. I normally do the afternoon "pop run" as the pop guy seems to respond a little better to me at this point than he does to Lowell. However, our supervisor was there and we were going over some documentation and paperwork stuff. Since we were having a good day, we thought Lowell would have no problems, and we sent him on his way.

About 20 minutes later, I received a text message that said, "Come to McDonalds before I get beat up." A little confused about how the drive to the local gas station for a pop ended up at McDonalds but realizing that now wasn't the time to question, we headed out. When we arrived, things were apparently a little bit calmer, but escalated fairly quickly. Lowell explained that when he was about to turn into the Presto station, he was informed that McDonalds would be preferred. After the last Presto episode, Lowell didn't argue (mainly for fear of losing the recently installed rearview mirror). Things were okay at McDonalds until the burger, fries, and coke that had just been consumed were no longer what was desired. What we wanted now is our money back. We all tried to explain that he had eaten the food and the nice people at McDonalds weren't inclined to give a full refund after the food has been eaten. Well that was not an acceptable response.

At this point, the yelling and screaming and hitting began. We all got out of his way, while still trying to keep him, us, and the other patrons safe. The first thing that was thrown across the restaurant was the bottle of cleaning solution. (And it probably shouldn't be just sitting out on top of the trash cans anyway should it???) The next thing to catch our attention was the Red Box. I guess it looked like it needed a good beating. And it got one. However, the crazy thing (besides the guy beating the Red Box) was that people kept coming in and returning movies. It was shocking to me that someone can be ripping pictures off of the wall, screaming, throwing things, and beating the movie rental box, and people continue to rent and return. Come on people, try Netflix, shipped right to your home with no danger of getting beat up!!!

Anyway, I guess the question about who uses the Red Box was answered for me on Monday - a few of my friends in Benton and at least half the population in the town of Lawrence! At least it seemed like that at the time.

Well that's one way...

So we moved to Lawrence, had a week to move in, a week of training, and a week of shadowing. Boy how I would go back to those weeks if we could. Excuse me for a moment of wishful thinking...

Anyway, week 4 was our first week on our own in the house with the guys. We felt like we had done really well with beginning to build relationships and getting to know their routines. One of the guys is very structured and likes each day to be pretty much like the one before. Lowell and I were doing most everything together at this point to ensure that neither of us got stuck in a situation we couldn't handle. And boy was that a good thing!

We drove out to the local gas station where we go every morning to get a "pop" (but when we go back to Arkansas, we will still say to go get a "Coke"). When we arrived, we were quickly and loudly informed that this particular day, this guy did not want to get his pop from that location. After he told us verbally, he proceeded to rip the rearview mirror off the windshield, open his door and toss the mirror across the parking lot. (We've since been told that the rearview mirror is "always the first to go.") We got out of the van and immediately called our supervisor - who by the way is absolutely great - and she told us that someone would be on the way to help and just try to keep him calm and safe. After several more outbursts, a squeegee or two and a Diet Coke thrown, he decided that he wanted to go home and promised to "be good." We responded that we would take him home but he would have to ride in the back of the van. He complied easily, so we thought, "Wow, that was crazy, but I guess it's all settled down now."

Have we ever been more wrong???? As I am driving down Iowa Street (a rather large and busy five lane, that I might compare with Cantrell or Chenal for all my AR friends), I see out of my peripheral vision (not the rearview mirror, mind you) that he is not longer in agreement to remain in the backseat and is quickly headed our way. I pull over at the same time as he reaches the door, slings it open and hops out. Lowell gets out too, and realizing I am stopped on a busy street, I drive around to a side street to watch the action.

For a few minutes they remained on a sidewalk safely away from traffic. But I guess that got boring, because they soon were in the street. Lowell was doing his best to keep a close eye on the guy to ensure he was safe (as safe as he could be IN the street) while at the same time directing traffic around him. We were amazed at the fact that you can stand in the street and people do what you want them to. The two of them took a little time in each lane of the street and at one point, the guy even sits down on the side of the road with his legs stretched out while Lowell remained in the street continuing to direct traffic. I guess I don't need to say that at this point the guy was completely irrational and there was no just asking him to comply and get out of the road. Finally, after what seemed to us like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, one of the long-time behavior analysts for the company drives up, the guy is happy to see him, gets in the car and waves bye to Lowell.

The next thing that happened still makes me laugh. So Lowell is on one side of the street and I and the van are on the other. Lowell hollars out to me that he is going to walk down to the crosswalk and that he'll meet me in a minute. I guess the irony of him standing in the middle of a busy street for 15 minutes directing traffic and then worrying later about jaywalking just struck me as really funny at the time.

When we all arrived safely home and were telling Joshua about the good times on Iowa (which we have now termed "Initiation Street") he just laughed and said, "Well, I guess that's one way to meet people in a new town. Just stand in the middle of a busy street and wave!"