All sugared up and nowhere to hide

I love my child to pieces, but every so often I count down the hours to bedtime. This used to be much easier when the kid was 7 years old because we'd convinced him that bedtime was at 7:30pm. Even if we parents went to bed at 9:30pm, we still had two whole hours to say "who the eff is Mommy?" or "whose your Daddy?".  Now that the child is 10, he's to smart to be fooled into a 7:30 bedtime. What's worse is that he has friends who can verify that 7:30 is not the normal bedtime for tweens. Crap.

Now we are stuck with a 9pm bedtime. By that time, parents are too tired to go do the whole tucking in thing. The joy of Aspergers means that stopping that ritual would be similar to dropping a nuclear bomb on Ohio. It just wouldn't be cool. So, our happy behinds are dragged up the stairs with all the bedtime accouterments to perform said ritual. As Murphy's Law would have it, the more exhausted us grown-ups are the more labor intensive the bedtime requests seem to be. When we head back down the stairs 30 minutes later, we say a prayer to encourage God to make our child fall asleep fast enough so we can watch a television show we've DVR'd in peace before we fall asleep in our livingroom.

Normally, God mocks us by bestowing an a sudden, ravenous appetite for Frosted Mini Wheats or something on our child.

The Lord sayeth "The young shall need their bowls filled with fibrous foods when the parents have discovered a plot twist on the newest episode of Bones. Thy young will call from the top of stairs until thy will is met. Mothers will have to rewind the funniest/most amazing dialogue of the entire show so that the bowl is filleth."  

I know God mocks us because the child takes 2 different medications to help him fall and stay asleep. I know the Melatonin knocks me out immediately, but its effects are no match for that power cord plugged into my kid's behind.

Then there are times like tonight. I decide that since I had zero child free time today, that I would stay up to enjoy some solitude since everyone is in bed. Except, I hear the child bouncing, the chandelier is shaking periodically and my child continues to check on me because I'm standing between him and the giant bag of Easter candy his Grand-mommy gave him. 

I don't know about other children, but something happens to mine when he ingests sugar. I cannot be totally sure his sugar intake wasn't responsible for the recent tornado outbreaks. I am sure that this sugar intake prevents him from being able to sit in a chair. I knew he sneaked candy today when he started falling out of his chair. Really. No exaggeration. Since Easter left us with about 20lbs of candy, it's still fresh on the child's mind and he thinks it all belongs to him. (Since Grand-mommy doled out the family candy to him, his Aspie mind is made up)

Next year, he's getting Doritos in his Easter basket. And sugar free gum. And some stronger sedatives because he already takes them, but his growing body will demand more next year. The meds now reduce his speed from 750 mph to 50 mph without candy, but are 70% less effective after a solid chocolate bunny. Or as his dad would put it: He's got an electric power cord plugged in his butt that is impossible to dislodge (because he moves to quickly and we can't catch him).

At that point, as parents, we need Xanax. I'm not stretching the truth here at all. My child's hyper-activity means, as a family, we require medication to cope. So, I'm putting 5 Hour Engery and Xanax in the parental Easter baskets. Maybe even liquor.

We've tried to go the sugar-free candy route, but turns out it contains sugar alcohol. You know what sugar alcohol does to your body in large quantities? Anal leakage. It has a laxative effect that is intensified for a child. I do make almost sugar free cookies with sugar free icing, but they aren't Easter candy and I don't make them all the time. I really need to start making more cookie treats with a low sugar content (I've gotten really good about making them taste sinful).

The Easter candy is officially living in my bedroom from now on. It will be doled out responsibly to the kid and hopefully to us parents. Maybe, just maybe the poor kid will be able to move through the world at a normal speed for awhile-- until the next confounded holiday or the next time another grown up in his life besides his parents thinking buying affection with a lollipop the size of head is a great idea.

I wish I had the energy to compose a really hilarious image of my child with said power cord in his bum, but alas, I have not the energy or time to do so. I'll just leave the visual to you, dear reader, and your vivid imagination. I will tell you that I think our Jesus action figure laughs at us... which may be cause to call the Vatican, except I don't want a crowd of Catholic miracle lovers surrounding my house when I'm trying to get more mommy time. Nevermind, Jesus wanted to pose:

 

Paranormal Evidence

I took photos during our family's Easter egg hunt. It was bright outside, so the LCD screen wasn't easy to see. Around the time of the 20th photo, I noticed a glow around my husband when looking at the LCD screen. I thought it was curious, hoped it didn't ruin my photos, but kept on snapping.

When I got home, I reviewed the pictures, only to find that mystical looking glow in almost every photo. Here's an example where my husband looks like he has a halo and wings:

Froggy faces to protect the innocent (and not so innocent). Otherwise this photo is unedited.

Instead of immediately jumping on the angel or ghost bandwagon, I gave this a long, hard thought or two. First of all, it was incredibly sunny, warm and humid. Secondly, the 'anomaly' neither appears around my son in individual shots of him (he's on the left in the photo above) nor my sister in law who wore a black shirt. Everyone else was wearing white, which we all know reflects light. Plus, only two people had the halo effect-- my husband and father in law-- both of whom happen to not have much hair. I then remembered that I chose the "kids and pets" setting for the pictures. I was shooting kids, after all, and since they move a lot the shutter speed is slower, which allows more light to enter the shot.

This isn't paranormal, but to an untrained or over-enthusiastic person, it sure would look as if is were not of this physical world. What happened in these photos is simple: the shutter speed being slower than normal allowed the camera to pick up the light reflecting off of white shirts and bald, white heads illuminating the moisture, dust and pollen in the air around the subjects which is usually unseen by the naked eye (unless its foggy or hazy). Had I not had a basic (or simple, haha) understanding of photography and science or if I were more overzealous (especially in light--punny-- of my husband's recent health issues plus luck), I would have been inclined to think "hey, guardian angels showing themselves and I have proof!".

(I do think someone is looking out for my husband, but I never engaged the idea that this photo proves that idea.)

Still, it is a really cool effect to have show up on Easter, even though its completely of this world and not of the next. It also demonstrates how easy a ghost photo can be debunked and faked without any special graphics program. You don't even need to know anything beyond point an shoot to do it. Happy accidents like this happen all the time, but any one with a little knowledge of photography and science can explain why there is no "para" involved in a photo.

The other idea we can take away from this is overzealousness does nothing for the fledgling field of paranormal research. Every time "paranormal researchers" put out a photo of the "paranormal" and say its "indisputable proof" or defend an image with their last dying breath, they hurt all of interested in making this a real science. Evidence needs to be able to peer reviewed and in order to be accepted or rejected. I'd rather reject a million pieces of evidence that can't withstand scrutiny even if they were real than have one easily debunkable piece fought over by researchers. Just like that meat in your fridge: Any doubt, throw it out.

I've seen too many people get incredibly personal with their evidence. It's not that I don't believe any of the evidence I'm presented with, its that I know evidence is no good if it cannot withstand peer review. And our peers include a variety of people, including skeptics, which is okay. It's how science becomes science. First and foremost, we, as a group of people trying to make paranormal research more accepted scientifically need to act like scientists with our evidence. Period.

We aren't doing anyone any favors by forcing our beliefs on the community we work within or the recognized scientific community. Even if you think or know that evidence is indisputable, others observations and thoughts are important and the means by which your evidence is validated or dismissed. When someone says "that could be moisture in that photo" and you say "but its not" (and especially if you have no humidity/atmospheric evidence to back up your statement), you are hurting all of us that want to making investigating the paranormal a more credible pursuit. How you handle your evidence and those that scrutinize it is the merit by which your skills, your methods and your results are measured.  

We must put our efforts forth to make sure we treat our data without bias. We need to take photos like the one in this post and put them under a microscope, be willing to throw them out or be willing to admit when we don't have the skills to make an accurate determination (and then hand them over to someone who objective, credible and does have the skills to make that call). That doesn't mean you can't follow your gut instincts or anecdotal evidence when helping a client, it just means you can't prove it to a jury of your peers beyond a reasonable doubt.

Defending that debubkable evidence destroys not only your credibility, but it takes the rest of us down with you. It also leaves the door continually open for these sorts of images:

Ghost puppy is watching you!

The Easter Snaik

I never thought about religion much when I was a kid, save for my Irish Catholic BFF's mom, who thought I had the devil in me, God (and hell) talks. My mom was a Lutheran who thought that religion was done wrong in America. So, we weren't any particular religion at all and I got to explore faith any which way I liked. And because I think I screamed so much the few times my mom tried taking me church services and Sunday school that our family was asked to never return. Of course, Easter being what it is, I knew the story of the resurrection and such from my mom and from said BFF (and BFF's mom).

My dad is a funny guy who isn't particularly religious. Growing up, he loved Easter because he always got a box of Whitman's chocolates and tons of other sweets. He HATED dying Easter eggs (aka Spring Spheres), sorta. He really hated the part where young children with excited fingers grabbed at permanent die in our house. If it were up to him, it would have been an 'in the grass at the neighbor's house' activity. I think he died a little inside each Easter and there were times I was surprised he didn't stroke out (like when my nieces and nephew died eggs in their toddler years).

There were several rules when it came to egg dying. These rules were debated passionately by my parents and these debates sometimes ended in threats of divorce. Other times it would end in a snarky kid saying 'Cut it out! We are making eggs for Jesus!'. Why we were making eggs for Jesus, I have no idea. Two-thousands years of hard-boiled eggs has got to wear thin on a Messiah, but then again I suppose he could change them into little cupcakes or whatever trendy snack en vogue (Dear Jesus, I hear doughnuts are the next big thing!).

The first rule is that you must never use copper pans to boil your eggs. Or is it aluminum? This would start the parental debate as my mom would have to prove to my dad that her stock pot contained no offending element, even though she had the same pot for like ever.

The second rule was the Rule of Paas. Never, ever could anything but the ORIGINAL Paas Easter egg dye be used in our house. Period. No tye-dye eggs. No fancy colors. There are 12 (or was it 9?) colors acceptable and those colors were dictated by the Paas people. No Paas dye, no Easter. End of story. I still get a little apprehensive whenever my mother-in-law pulls out something other than the traditional Paas egg dying kit before Easter. We will not tell my dad that my son hasn't ALWAYS used Paas's original kit-- it might kill him.

The final rule was that you must use a white crayon to make the most important egg of them all: The Easter Snaik egg. And yes, its S-N-A-I-K. It was the only time a misspelled word was appropriate and your egg would be spared the infamous Library of Congress red pen (all our pens came from the Library of Congress-- heck, until I was 9, I thought everyone got their pens from the LoC). While my parents corrected my spelling until I was 32 years old, this special and holy spelling spelling of 'snaik' was a crucial part of our Easter tradition-- the Holy Grail of all our holiday celebrations.

So, my dad would draw this 'snaik' in white crayon on an egg and then write the words 'Easter Snaik' underneath (that)**. Yet, this is no ordinary snaik. This snaik has 4 legs with feet, 3 polka-dots and is always smiling, open mouthed with his forked snaik tongue sticking out.

It wasn't until I was much older that I realized the gross contradiction between Easter and the snaik. Later I learned that most of the religious traditions that our culture engages in are actually NOT Christian, but rather have deep pagan roots. Bunnies have nothing to do with Jesus. Eggs are for fertility, celebrated during the Spring Equinox. And as a parent living in a very judeo-christian world, where poking fun at Jesus and religion (or atheism?) isn't readily accepted (unless you are famous and a comedian), my dad found the most amusing ways to poke fun at the inherent contradiction between mono-theism and poly-theism.

This years Easter Snaik Egg

My dad made his point in a way that his children could marvel at (and shock her friends parents at the same time). He made it so we came to love the tradition for the simplest human and most godly reason-- the love of ones family. I have no doubt that God has a sense of humor and is decorating his own Easter Snaik egg with his own son.

 ** If you didn't get that aside, than you obviously don't read Cake Wrecks