Do we have to talk about why I stopped writing - and then started again - and then stopped again - and have now decided to start again?  Do we?  Because I think it would be really awkward for at least one of us.  There might be tears, and I've heard from a reliable source that I am an ugly crier.  You know the type.  It's rare that you'll get a glimpse of me in a full-on cry, but I'm pretty sure that those who have won't soon forget the sight.  So let's just skip all the prerequisite tearful explanations and jump right into life at Chez Hogan, shall we?

About three weeks after Lois died, Mac was diagnosed on the Autism Spectrum.  (Coincidentally that's about the same time my cheese completely lost touch with my cracker.)  Yes, it's a spectrum and he's on it somewhere.  No, I don't know exactly where.  It's not like they give you a number when you get your diagnosis.  I consider him pretty high functioning, but maybe all parents of autistic children would say the same about their children.  In fact, I think he's a freakin genius.  He's devilishly handsome, especially in a pair of plaid pants and a sweater vest.  And since he was diagnosed and has emerged a bit from the cloud he was in, the little boy currently bouncing on the trampoline in my living room is a quirky little piece of sunshine.

That's right.  There's a trampoline in my living room. And it changed Mac's life.  But we can talk more about that later.

Mac is going to be a big brother in January.  In 18 weeks and 4 days.  (Umm yea.  I'm counting.)  Jay and I weren't really expecting news like this at this point in our lives.  But who is going to be sad about a new baby?

Ummmm.....well....if Mac really understood what was going on I imagine he'd have a thing or two to say on the subject.

Baby Hogan has been determined to be a baby boy.  They determined this at my 16 week ultrasound, but I held out hope that the damn thing would fall off.  It didn't.  It just got bigger.  Talk about a let down.  I can't help it, blog readers.  I wanted a little girl - for me, for Jay, for cosmic justice!  Do you know how much fun it is to shop for a sassy little girl? Boy shopping just doesn't hold the same appeal, but I do my best.  Aunt Marpa has taken to calling Mac "Malibu Ken" because I dress him up so ridiculously.  Exhibit A:

Raising Mac is an interesting dichotomy.  In many ways, being Mac's parent is a piece of cake.  He's easy going.  He plays independently.  He eats well.  He sleeps well.  We can take him just about anywhere.  But on the other hand, part of the reason he's so easy to deal with is that he's in his happy little autism world.  I've learned that the more we force him out of his autism world and into ours, the more he acts like a typical 3 year old.  And sometimes that's just not pretty.

But I want to watch Elmo NOW!

I feel like many of you fell in love with Lois by reading my blog.  By not continuing to write, I think I've given you the impression that in some way my son isn't "blog worthy." The Big Mac is more than worthy - his Mom just had a few things to sort out. (See paragraph #1)  I'm looking forward to the opportunity to introduce you to my son - now that my cheese and my cracker are reacquainted.

And to my Mom's Night Out buddies who gave me a gentle push with their kind words last night, thank you.