I have some stuff that I often think about at 3AM, when I should be sleeping but Hey, why do that? He's just going to be up in an hour or so anyway. Let me sit and stew. It's strange how at that time of night you are most honest with yourself and your own thoughts. Here are the latest ones bopping around my brain. Or the ones that I can remember before I drifted off only to be woken up again by the Kiddo ten minutes later.
I don't care what causes autism. I don't. I really want folks to stop asking my opinion on this. My kiddo is my kiddo. How I am suppose to accept him for who he is while thinking at the same time "If only I had done this..." Even if you showed me hardcore scientific evidence that this "something" caused it, I don't care. What am I suppose to do? Hop in a DeLorean and go 88 miles an hour to my past and stop the autism from happening? It is what it is so I'm happy to move on. I wish others around me would too.
One and I am done. No, I won't be having anymore kids. The kiddo is turning 9 next week. We finally have a streak of no potty accidents. You think I want to go back to diapers? That's just my flip token answer but in all seriousness, stop asking me this. From the moment you deliver your baby some smart ass has to ask you will you are still in the hospital "So when's the next one?" Be lucky I was medicated jackass. I wanted to slap you. A parent knows when they are done. It's not like I just forgot to have more kids. Whoops! Slipped my mind! I rocked a pretty good case of postpartum depression. Just when I was finally pulling myself out of that, autism popped up. I knew where I had to focus. It's a choice that worked for me. You remembered to have extra kids? Good for you. You must of jotted down a reminder on a Post It. So ya think maybe by the time I hit 50, folks might stop asking?
I love writing the blog but I always struggle with what I will share. I want to respect my kiddo's privacy. He didn't ask me to write about him. Hence the no names and rare pictures. Although I do slip up from time to time. I bet you all go "oh so that's his name!!!" and feel all cool and stuff. Some of you have probably started to figure out who I am on Facebook too. Yep, I'm in some Autism Parents groups. Betcha didn't know did ya? Or you did? I'm there with you. Talking, listening and sharing. I like it too. I feel like a secret agent when I don't tell folks. 007 Licenced to Stim. I'd love to be all "I am Spartacus or Mama Fry." in them but I like walking away from it too. Sometimes I get really uncomfortable with being asked questions about what to do. I'm not an expert. I'm a hot mess in unwashed yoga pants who is desperately counting down the hours till I can take my bra off. Really, you want to trust my opinion? I only know what worked for us.
I really wrestle with that whole "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" cliche. God shouldn't of trusted me with that so much. I couldn't even remember to have more kids. How am I to be trusted with a child with special needs? I have no patience and cuss like a sailor on shore leave. Sarcasm is my answer to everything and yet I'm handed a kid that I am told won't understand it. (I call bullshit on that one. He totally does. Autism Myth Buster right there.) I stick up for other Autism parents when they are being judged and then I am judged for it too. God, us Autism parents are getting the shaft sometimes. Help a girl out and let me win a PowerBall lottery or something. I don't want pity. I want a nap.
I don't have a crystal ball but I have to say some of the stuff my kiddo has managed to do have been awesome surprises. We still have work but he's done more than I ever thought he could. I love it when he proves me wrong. I love it when he proves the jackass early intervention therapists wrong that worked with him and gave me ZIP hope that he'd do anything. I often want to call them up and say "Can't communicate?" and put him on the phone when he's singing then get back on and say "How ya like dem apples?" Perhaps they said that to light a fire under my ass but honestly I don't think that's the case. I think they were just bitches.
So there ya have it. The inner workings of my brain at an ungodly hour. Bet you expected more fries.
Followers
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Here I go again on my own...
Not just a song by Whitesnake! I made you sing it in your head didn't I? It's now stuck in there. Yeah, sorry about that.
Anyway, here I am in the grocery store (well not anymore because I'm typing this but I'm trying to paint a picture here so stay with me) and I'm trying to figure out a question that I am sure many ASD parents think all the time.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS KID GONNA EAT?"
With the help of his magic speech therapist, who at this point I am convinced is moonlighting from teaching at Hogwarts, the kiddo is finally trying some new foods. Not only trying them but actually enjoying them. On his terms of course. So that's where it gets tricky because he very rarely explains those terms to me. I get the lucky job of trying to figure it out. Mostly I find myself doing this at 3AM when I should be sleeping. No, that's a perfect time to sit, worry and stew.
So here we are and it's clear one of the new favorites of his hot dogs/sausages. This kiddo has been chowing down on them when we are out to eat. Just call him Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago. (Bueller....Bueller...) I'm kind of stoked about that. Summer is just around the corner. Family BBQs and vacations. Feeding him while we are out just got a little easier. Now of course he's got to do it in his own. He takes it off the bun, wants it cut up and then attacks the whole thing with a fork. Because as he would say "No eating with the hands! Use a fork!" Yep kiddo, way to self prompt!
I have some food shopping to do and I decide to pick some up for home. This being an American supermarket means I will have no less than 43 different choices in brands and kinds. GO BIG OR GO HOME! This is where it will get tricky. I have to figure out which one he will A) Actually eat and B) Is the less evil, less going to kill him slowly, Yes I know about the nitrates, healthiest choice possible.
Cause dudes, it's not just as easy as slipping him a vegan organic free range super duper soy whatits and saying "here ya go!" Nope, not at all. Then I will be stuck with a pack of these he will never touch and possibly this might be all it takes for him to never touch a single hot dog or sausage ever again. There is so many issues with trust when it comes to his sensory issues with eating. Think about a time when you bit into a chocolate chip cookie only to find it was in fact an oatmeal raisin. Didn't you feel betrayed to your very core? I can't screw that up. I won't screw that up. Not when we've come this far. His speech therapist is scrappy. She'd probably slap me.
No lie, I bought about 6 different kinds. Like a hot dog/sausage buffet if you will. I could host a weenie roast in the back yard. You can all come. I got a pool. BYOB. Cause if none of these are acceptable to the Kiddo, someones got to eat them.
You're still singing that Whitesnake song in your head aren't you?
Anyway, here I am in the grocery store (well not anymore because I'm typing this but I'm trying to paint a picture here so stay with me) and I'm trying to figure out a question that I am sure many ASD parents think all the time.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS KID GONNA EAT?"
With the help of his magic speech therapist, who at this point I am convinced is moonlighting from teaching at Hogwarts, the kiddo is finally trying some new foods. Not only trying them but actually enjoying them. On his terms of course. So that's where it gets tricky because he very rarely explains those terms to me. I get the lucky job of trying to figure it out. Mostly I find myself doing this at 3AM when I should be sleeping. No, that's a perfect time to sit, worry and stew.
So here we are and it's clear one of the new favorites of his hot dogs/sausages. This kiddo has been chowing down on them when we are out to eat. Just call him Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago. (Bueller....Bueller...) I'm kind of stoked about that. Summer is just around the corner. Family BBQs and vacations. Feeding him while we are out just got a little easier. Now of course he's got to do it in his own. He takes it off the bun, wants it cut up and then attacks the whole thing with a fork. Because as he would say "No eating with the hands! Use a fork!" Yep kiddo, way to self prompt!
I have some food shopping to do and I decide to pick some up for home. This being an American supermarket means I will have no less than 43 different choices in brands and kinds. GO BIG OR GO HOME! This is where it will get tricky. I have to figure out which one he will A) Actually eat and B) Is the less evil, less going to kill him slowly, Yes I know about the nitrates, healthiest choice possible.
Cause dudes, it's not just as easy as slipping him a vegan organic free range super duper soy whatits and saying "here ya go!" Nope, not at all. Then I will be stuck with a pack of these he will never touch and possibly this might be all it takes for him to never touch a single hot dog or sausage ever again. There is so many issues with trust when it comes to his sensory issues with eating. Think about a time when you bit into a chocolate chip cookie only to find it was in fact an oatmeal raisin. Didn't you feel betrayed to your very core? I can't screw that up. I won't screw that up. Not when we've come this far. His speech therapist is scrappy. She'd probably slap me.
No lie, I bought about 6 different kinds. Like a hot dog/sausage buffet if you will. I could host a weenie roast in the back yard. You can all come. I got a pool. BYOB. Cause if none of these are acceptable to the Kiddo, someones got to eat them.
You're still singing that Whitesnake song in your head aren't you?
Monday, May 13, 2013
But...
But this is not the mothering I signed up for. So now what? Exactly.
But everyday is such a roller coaster. No amount of warning could of prepared me for the up, down and all around. It wouldn't of mattered. I wouldn't of believed it anyway.
But I got to remember he's trying his best. He's trying to handle being parented by a neurotypical mom. Well, let's be real. I'm sure my little ASD apple didn't fall far from this quirky tree. Either way, here we are. Trying to figure each other out while trying to figure our own selves out too.
But I have to have hope. He's showed so much progress in the past two years. I often immediately thank his teacher for it. She's had A LOT to do with it. She just gets him and I will sob my heart out when he moves on from her room at the end of this school year. I wonder if she knows in my head I think of her as my BFF. That's kind of stalkerish? Is that a word? It's in print. It is now. But really, how could I not think of her as a good friend when she's made such an effort to help my son. Nothing could of prepare me for that. When someone non related and in a paid position seems to love your kid in a special way. Damn, that's good stuff right there.
But I also have to be realistic. For as much progress he has made we still have so much more to do. It's daunting and I fear some goals just won't ever be achieved. Sometimes it just smacks me in the face out of no where. I'll be doing something like the laundry (which I am always doing) and I will think "He won't ever get married. I'll never have grand kids." I don't know this but there is a damn good chance that's the case. Well I guess I'll just have to be that eccentric old great auntie to my nieces and nephews kids. Won't be the same but what else will I do? Exactly. Adapt and move on.
But then he's proven me wrong so many times! To the point where I think he does it just to mess with me. I love those times. Prove me wrong kiddo. Is it Autism when he gets that fixated on doing something or pure Irish stubborn spirit? Gee, I wonder where that comes from? ;-) If I could harness that energy he shows I could power a small city. When he is in, he is ALL IN!
But it is all so much work. Always has been and always will be. I am tired. So bloody tired. I'm tired of being tired. I walk in a permanent fog. The folks at Keurig follow me on Twitter. (@FrenchFryInc) All the coffee in the world and cat naps stolen here and there still will never be enough because even when I get a chance to lay down and close my eyes I cannot turn off my brain. I think of how much more there is to do. What goals we need to focus on next. Which direction to take. How we will tackle the next big issue because there is always another big issue to handle.
But I will tackle it because I love him with a power that is so fierce that is it frightening. There is a line in my life. Before kiddo and then just kiddo. The kiddo cannot be replaced. I cannot fathom life without him.
But let's be honest here, at some point I will screw it up. BAD! Something will be the worst thing I could of done. I'll either know it right away or it will hit me days later and I'll think "FUCK!" I do a lot of stupid shit in the name of love. I am a freaking hot mess and people now write me and ask me for advice. What? I don't know what I'm doing at all? WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?? (why am I yelling?) I don't have my shit together at all. I don't know what to say or what to think most days.
But I will keep trying because I see what hard work can do. I have many comrades in the autism trenches with me. We'll brainstorm together. We'll figure it out.
And we'll probably order another side of fries.
But everyday is such a roller coaster. No amount of warning could of prepared me for the up, down and all around. It wouldn't of mattered. I wouldn't of believed it anyway.
But I got to remember he's trying his best. He's trying to handle being parented by a neurotypical mom. Well, let's be real. I'm sure my little ASD apple didn't fall far from this quirky tree. Either way, here we are. Trying to figure each other out while trying to figure our own selves out too.
But I have to have hope. He's showed so much progress in the past two years. I often immediately thank his teacher for it. She's had A LOT to do with it. She just gets him and I will sob my heart out when he moves on from her room at the end of this school year. I wonder if she knows in my head I think of her as my BFF. That's kind of stalkerish? Is that a word? It's in print. It is now. But really, how could I not think of her as a good friend when she's made such an effort to help my son. Nothing could of prepare me for that. When someone non related and in a paid position seems to love your kid in a special way. Damn, that's good stuff right there.
But I also have to be realistic. For as much progress he has made we still have so much more to do. It's daunting and I fear some goals just won't ever be achieved. Sometimes it just smacks me in the face out of no where. I'll be doing something like the laundry (which I am always doing) and I will think "He won't ever get married. I'll never have grand kids." I don't know this but there is a damn good chance that's the case. Well I guess I'll just have to be that eccentric old great auntie to my nieces and nephews kids. Won't be the same but what else will I do? Exactly. Adapt and move on.
But then he's proven me wrong so many times! To the point where I think he does it just to mess with me. I love those times. Prove me wrong kiddo. Is it Autism when he gets that fixated on doing something or pure Irish stubborn spirit? Gee, I wonder where that comes from? ;-) If I could harness that energy he shows I could power a small city. When he is in, he is ALL IN!
But it is all so much work. Always has been and always will be. I am tired. So bloody tired. I'm tired of being tired. I walk in a permanent fog. The folks at Keurig follow me on Twitter. (@FrenchFryInc) All the coffee in the world and cat naps stolen here and there still will never be enough because even when I get a chance to lay down and close my eyes I cannot turn off my brain. I think of how much more there is to do. What goals we need to focus on next. Which direction to take. How we will tackle the next big issue because there is always another big issue to handle.
But I will tackle it because I love him with a power that is so fierce that is it frightening. There is a line in my life. Before kiddo and then just kiddo. The kiddo cannot be replaced. I cannot fathom life without him.
But let's be honest here, at some point I will screw it up. BAD! Something will be the worst thing I could of done. I'll either know it right away or it will hit me days later and I'll think "FUCK!" I do a lot of stupid shit in the name of love. I am a freaking hot mess and people now write me and ask me for advice. What? I don't know what I'm doing at all? WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?? (why am I yelling?) I don't have my shit together at all. I don't know what to say or what to think most days.
But I will keep trying because I see what hard work can do. I have many comrades in the autism trenches with me. We'll brainstorm together. We'll figure it out.
And we'll probably order another side of fries.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Sheldon Cooper was right.
"Bitches be crazy" Do you watch The Big Bang Theory? You should. The show is hilarious but don't let your kids watch it. Or at least admit that you have let them watch it. Online on any sort of mommy blogging/forum site because you will see within minutes that "Bitches do indeed be crazy" (again Sheldon, watch it. Trust me!)
I have watched two blogger moms get raked over the coals this week. I'm sure you know what I'm about to talk about. The story is always the same. Opinion or story is shared online. Usually in complete innocence/honesty/emotional out pour and cheap form of therapy while the kids are at school. I think then some sort of alarm or sensor goes off in some moms. You know the ones I speak of. I refer to them as the "Santicmommies". The ones that LOVE LOVE LOVE telling you how bad you are screwing up your kid. Online Santicmommies are even more vicious than any of those passive aggressive ones you might run into at a party or the school drop off. That computer/smartphone they are using sure gives them a big pair of brass ovaries. Their phone case might have a cutesy picture of their kids on it but damn if they don't yield that thing like a light saber.
I get it. We write, we should get a thick skin. Don't read the comments you are probably saying. Or shrug it off. The longer I do this, the slightly better I get at that. However they are moms just like me. I'm not a writer. Haven't my run on sentences and poor grammar shown that? Even before I was blogging, I felt like a hot mess screw up every single day. Do I need this confirmed to me in print? Yeah not really.
But it's easy to troll. There is no face you are saying these unkind words to. No reaction you see. You hit send and no immediately rebuttal is given. It's like you sure told them and got in that last word. HA! Now everyone is going to see what a bad ass you are. You're not though. You're just a troll. I'm pretty sure you don't use your real name or if you do, you go on sites that you know no one in real life on. It's just a stranger so whatever damage you inflict doesn't count right?
It does though. The post I am proudest of has over 100 comments on it. Most of them agree with me. That first one that not only didn't but then decide to go for my jugular? Yeah that stayed with me. I'm human. I'm seeing in black and white just how awful you think I am. Yes disagreements happen. Open discourse? I'm all for it. When you completely disregard that person's emotions on a subject they feel passion for? Then, you are my friend, an ass hat. Since most of my posts are just me stating opinions, I expect folks to disagree. If you are expecting me to engage in a comment war, I won't though. I said my opinion. See above. I'm not typing all that shit again. Like I got time for that? I have laundry to fold.
Plus Scantimommies, lets be real here. I then start judging you and your parenting when I see you do this bullshit. Immediately! Sometimes I loose myself and rip ya right back online. Stupid. I should know better but hey I"m human. I forgive me. I'll even forgive you. Let's just own this. This is horrible and we need to stop. Unless some mommy blogger is posting how she force feeds her kids blood from newborn kittens, just scroll on bitches. Seriously. I am tired. I have clothes wrinkling in the dryer. I have a pound of ground beef I have to figure out something to do with for dinner. (oh crap is it even defrosted yet?)
Let's just stop the madness. Some men think "bitches be crazy". It's for a reason! Chill out. Deep breaths. Resume your awesomeness. Order another side of fries.
I have watched two blogger moms get raked over the coals this week. I'm sure you know what I'm about to talk about. The story is always the same. Opinion or story is shared online. Usually in complete innocence/honesty/emotional out pour and cheap form of therapy while the kids are at school. I think then some sort of alarm or sensor goes off in some moms. You know the ones I speak of. I refer to them as the "Santicmommies". The ones that LOVE LOVE LOVE telling you how bad you are screwing up your kid. Online Santicmommies are even more vicious than any of those passive aggressive ones you might run into at a party or the school drop off. That computer/smartphone they are using sure gives them a big pair of brass ovaries. Their phone case might have a cutesy picture of their kids on it but damn if they don't yield that thing like a light saber.
I get it. We write, we should get a thick skin. Don't read the comments you are probably saying. Or shrug it off. The longer I do this, the slightly better I get at that. However they are moms just like me. I'm not a writer. Haven't my run on sentences and poor grammar shown that? Even before I was blogging, I felt like a hot mess screw up every single day. Do I need this confirmed to me in print? Yeah not really.
But it's easy to troll. There is no face you are saying these unkind words to. No reaction you see. You hit send and no immediately rebuttal is given. It's like you sure told them and got in that last word. HA! Now everyone is going to see what a bad ass you are. You're not though. You're just a troll. I'm pretty sure you don't use your real name or if you do, you go on sites that you know no one in real life on. It's just a stranger so whatever damage you inflict doesn't count right?
It does though. The post I am proudest of has over 100 comments on it. Most of them agree with me. That first one that not only didn't but then decide to go for my jugular? Yeah that stayed with me. I'm human. I'm seeing in black and white just how awful you think I am. Yes disagreements happen. Open discourse? I'm all for it. When you completely disregard that person's emotions on a subject they feel passion for? Then, you are my friend, an ass hat. Since most of my posts are just me stating opinions, I expect folks to disagree. If you are expecting me to engage in a comment war, I won't though. I said my opinion. See above. I'm not typing all that shit again. Like I got time for that? I have laundry to fold.
Plus Scantimommies, lets be real here. I then start judging you and your parenting when I see you do this bullshit. Immediately! Sometimes I loose myself and rip ya right back online. Stupid. I should know better but hey I"m human. I forgive me. I'll even forgive you. Let's just own this. This is horrible and we need to stop. Unless some mommy blogger is posting how she force feeds her kids blood from newborn kittens, just scroll on bitches. Seriously. I am tired. I have clothes wrinkling in the dryer. I have a pound of ground beef I have to figure out something to do with for dinner. (oh crap is it even defrosted yet?)
Let's just stop the madness. Some men think "bitches be crazy". It's for a reason! Chill out. Deep breaths. Resume your awesomeness. Order another side of fries.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The Kiddo's Cookbook
My parenting life is so not the norm. I know this and I'm okay with it, somewhat. Little things though do get under my skin.
Like yesterday the kiddo comes home with a note inviting me to a "Mother's Day Tea" at his school. I knew this was coming as with any event we prep him for it a month in advance. He's only just in the last six months been okay with seeing me at school and more importantly, seeing me leave it without him. I cannot tell you how much of a drag it was to drop off meds to the school nurse once a month when he classroom is right next door to her office. Spy v Spy ain't got nothing on me as I would creep passed his classroom door twice. Once his principal saw me in the hall and I "Sshhhh" ed him really loudly as he went to say my name and mimed to the open door while throwing my hood up on my coat so the kiddo wouldn't notice. Cause that was my life.
I'm happy to attend. What I'm not so happy about was the note attached to the invite asking me to send in a recipe of my child's favorite meal that I make so they can put together a cookbook for all of us moms. Ummmm, clearly they don't follow this blog. Something tells me sending in a picture of the Ore Ida bag isn't gonna cut it either. I'm seriously considering sending in one for Coq an vin just to mess with their heads.
And I know I can't be the only mom rolling her eyes at this right? Whether your kid is neurotypical or has an alphabet soup diagnosis after their name, kids generally eat the same damn things. Do I really need a recipe book filled with recipes like Mac and Cheese (which he won't eat) or frozen pizza? Some moms will actually be able to send in a real recipe that their kid actually eats but most like me are currently wondering how to write up a recipe for chicken nuggets and tater tots. Here are some of my choices. Which one do you think I ought to send?
Yoohoo
Rip straw off of box
Whine until Mom unwraps it
Pop in box.
Sip and enjoy!
Microwave French Fries
Drag Mom to freezer and point to box
Rip open box and toss on the microwave turning plate you keep forgetting to clean
Have child press "French fries" on his Proloquo2go app again and again till the microwave beeps
Dinner done! Or Breakfast. Just call it hash browns
Veggie Stix puffed rice snacks
Buy ginormous bag from Costo
Rip open bag so fast that some fall out onto floor. Don't worry. Your pets will like them.
Eat only the orange and white ones. Leave the green ones for Mom. They pair nicely with wine after child goes to bed.
Hot Dog
Boil Hot Dog and place in bun
Have ten minute discussion with child if they want ketchup or mustard.
Remember they won't even eat said hot dog so who cares?
Child will eat said bun and leave the hot dog.
Mom will eat said hot dog with her green Veggie Stix snacks from above.
So, which one should it be? ;-)
Like yesterday the kiddo comes home with a note inviting me to a "Mother's Day Tea" at his school. I knew this was coming as with any event we prep him for it a month in advance. He's only just in the last six months been okay with seeing me at school and more importantly, seeing me leave it without him. I cannot tell you how much of a drag it was to drop off meds to the school nurse once a month when he classroom is right next door to her office. Spy v Spy ain't got nothing on me as I would creep passed his classroom door twice. Once his principal saw me in the hall and I "Sshhhh" ed him really loudly as he went to say my name and mimed to the open door while throwing my hood up on my coat so the kiddo wouldn't notice. Cause that was my life.
I'm happy to attend. What I'm not so happy about was the note attached to the invite asking me to send in a recipe of my child's favorite meal that I make so they can put together a cookbook for all of us moms. Ummmm, clearly they don't follow this blog. Something tells me sending in a picture of the Ore Ida bag isn't gonna cut it either. I'm seriously considering sending in one for Coq an vin just to mess with their heads.
And I know I can't be the only mom rolling her eyes at this right? Whether your kid is neurotypical or has an alphabet soup diagnosis after their name, kids generally eat the same damn things. Do I really need a recipe book filled with recipes like Mac and Cheese (which he won't eat) or frozen pizza? Some moms will actually be able to send in a real recipe that their kid actually eats but most like me are currently wondering how to write up a recipe for chicken nuggets and tater tots. Here are some of my choices. Which one do you think I ought to send?
Yoohoo
Rip straw off of box
Whine until Mom unwraps it
Pop in box.
Sip and enjoy!
Microwave French Fries
Drag Mom to freezer and point to box
Rip open box and toss on the microwave turning plate you keep forgetting to clean
Have child press "French fries" on his Proloquo2go app again and again till the microwave beeps
Dinner done! Or Breakfast. Just call it hash browns
Veggie Stix puffed rice snacks
Buy ginormous bag from Costo
Rip open bag so fast that some fall out onto floor. Don't worry. Your pets will like them.
Eat only the orange and white ones. Leave the green ones for Mom. They pair nicely with wine after child goes to bed.
Hot Dog
Boil Hot Dog and place in bun
Have ten minute discussion with child if they want ketchup or mustard.
Remember they won't even eat said hot dog so who cares?
Child will eat said bun and leave the hot dog.
Mom will eat said hot dog with her green Veggie Stix snacks from above.
So, which one should it be? ;-)
Monday, April 29, 2013
If I say no...
For as much as I want complete inclusion and acceptance for my kiddo, there are just some times I say no to it. It's complicated. It doesn't always makes sense. It's just what we deal with it here. These are the possible reasons why though. Print this out and refer to it when you think I'm being difficult, odd or just downright ridiculous to your invite.
If I say no it is because I am tired. So very tired. Physically, emotionally and spiritually spent. No, he doesn't sleep in. Ever. Not the way your kids might. If it's past 6 AM in this house when he wakes, we consider this a victory. It never happens on a weekend or a day off from school. Usually on a Monday. Or it's just a sign that he is sick. Even when he does sleep till the sun rises, there is a damn good chance he was a real piece of work to get to bed the night before. He probably slept in our bed. Probably, who am I kidding? He did. So neither my husband or myself slept very well with this restless 67 pound kiddo between us.
If I say no it is because I know your gathering won't start on time or I know will run very late. Either way, it will throw him so far off his cherished schedule that we will suffer the meltdown for hours after. Or he will meltdown at your gathering. We hate meltdowns, we hate them more with an audience. One full of people that might mean well but who's stares still hurt. Or who decide then, mid meltdown, that this is the time they need to tell me that their nephew's girlfriend volunteers at a special needs camp or do we think vaccines are what caused his autism. I'm not an autism information kiosk. I really can't get into that kind of conversation when my kiddo is in meltdown mode. My mind is running on getting the heck out of the situation. When my kiddo is in meltdown, so are we.
If I say no it's because once I heard your kids remark to each other who my kiddo doesn't talk. That babies talk more than him. I know they are just being kids. They don't fully know autism and all it's issues and why my son doesn't speak like they do. Or when he does it's scripted lines from a YouTube clip he loves. I know they won't play with him because they have tried before and when he didn't respond, they thought he was ignoring them. It just hurts. I know they are just being honest and just how kids are but it still hurts.
If I say no it's because we have another therapy session to attend and no it's not that easy to just move the time around. Remember that schedule of his I just mentioned? Yeah that's one reason. The other, oh my god, his schedule is more complicated than most adults I know. I bought the phone I have just because I knew the calendar option would be much easier for me to manage. Good therapists are worth their weight in goldfish crackers. I don't ditch them or play hooky unless he is ill. So yeah, guess we're coming late or not at all to your kid's birthday party.
If I say no it's because that birthday party you invited us to is at a location that is a sensory nightmare for my kiddo. I know his limits. I appreciate the thought but I know when we just simply can't. He's almost 9. We've done all the greatest hits of birthday parties now. I know where and where he can't go because he simply cannot not handle the noise, the crowd, and all the sensory issues that come up.
If I say no it's because I simply don't have it in me to deal with heaps of unsolicited advice you give. Congrats, you read an article about Toni Braxton's son who has autism or you follow that Jersey Housewife on Twitter, who's son has it too. Great, that's great. If you have no kids on the spectrum though, yeah I'm not gonna sugar coat this. It's just obnoxious and I am to sleep deprived to be polite. To just smile and nod and say "oh really" and pretend like I care. Cause some days, I just don't care. I don't want to hear about it or talk about it. I just want to sip my coffee or wine and talk about some gossip or nail polish color or whatnot and get my mind off all things autism. I'm not a one trick pony. I got other things I would like to talk about or think about.
So yeah, this is what it is. I"m not always funny or "on". This is a tough road I walk but if you are patient with me, I am a good friend. I may not always be able to talk on the phone without the kiddo yelling in the background. I can however text or email you in the dark while I'm waiting for him to fall asleep. Just know I'm trying my best.
I won't say no to another side of fries though. :-)
If I say no it is because I am tired. So very tired. Physically, emotionally and spiritually spent. No, he doesn't sleep in. Ever. Not the way your kids might. If it's past 6 AM in this house when he wakes, we consider this a victory. It never happens on a weekend or a day off from school. Usually on a Monday. Or it's just a sign that he is sick. Even when he does sleep till the sun rises, there is a damn good chance he was a real piece of work to get to bed the night before. He probably slept in our bed. Probably, who am I kidding? He did. So neither my husband or myself slept very well with this restless 67 pound kiddo between us.
If I say no it is because I know your gathering won't start on time or I know will run very late. Either way, it will throw him so far off his cherished schedule that we will suffer the meltdown for hours after. Or he will meltdown at your gathering. We hate meltdowns, we hate them more with an audience. One full of people that might mean well but who's stares still hurt. Or who decide then, mid meltdown, that this is the time they need to tell me that their nephew's girlfriend volunteers at a special needs camp or do we think vaccines are what caused his autism. I'm not an autism information kiosk. I really can't get into that kind of conversation when my kiddo is in meltdown mode. My mind is running on getting the heck out of the situation. When my kiddo is in meltdown, so are we.
If I say no it's because once I heard your kids remark to each other who my kiddo doesn't talk. That babies talk more than him. I know they are just being kids. They don't fully know autism and all it's issues and why my son doesn't speak like they do. Or when he does it's scripted lines from a YouTube clip he loves. I know they won't play with him because they have tried before and when he didn't respond, they thought he was ignoring them. It just hurts. I know they are just being honest and just how kids are but it still hurts.
If I say no it's because we have another therapy session to attend and no it's not that easy to just move the time around. Remember that schedule of his I just mentioned? Yeah that's one reason. The other, oh my god, his schedule is more complicated than most adults I know. I bought the phone I have just because I knew the calendar option would be much easier for me to manage. Good therapists are worth their weight in goldfish crackers. I don't ditch them or play hooky unless he is ill. So yeah, guess we're coming late or not at all to your kid's birthday party.
If I say no it's because that birthday party you invited us to is at a location that is a sensory nightmare for my kiddo. I know his limits. I appreciate the thought but I know when we just simply can't. He's almost 9. We've done all the greatest hits of birthday parties now. I know where and where he can't go because he simply cannot not handle the noise, the crowd, and all the sensory issues that come up.
If I say no it's because I simply don't have it in me to deal with heaps of unsolicited advice you give. Congrats, you read an article about Toni Braxton's son who has autism or you follow that Jersey Housewife on Twitter, who's son has it too. Great, that's great. If you have no kids on the spectrum though, yeah I'm not gonna sugar coat this. It's just obnoxious and I am to sleep deprived to be polite. To just smile and nod and say "oh really" and pretend like I care. Cause some days, I just don't care. I don't want to hear about it or talk about it. I just want to sip my coffee or wine and talk about some gossip or nail polish color or whatnot and get my mind off all things autism. I'm not a one trick pony. I got other things I would like to talk about or think about.
So yeah, this is what it is. I"m not always funny or "on". This is a tough road I walk but if you are patient with me, I am a good friend. I may not always be able to talk on the phone without the kiddo yelling in the background. I can however text or email you in the dark while I'm waiting for him to fall asleep. Just know I'm trying my best.
I won't say no to another side of fries though. :-)
Thursday, April 25, 2013
20 questions heard daily at French Fry Inc.
On any given day the conversations at this house would probably confuse many NT parents. Not us in "Club Spectrum". Perhaps some of these have passed your lips as well. Please tell me they have. Really. Lie to me. Tell me you have!
1) Is this poop? Smell this. That's poop right?
2) How wet are the sheets? A little? Here's a towel. It's 3:42am. That can keep.
3) Did he eat lunch? Besides the dog food pellet he snuck out of the dod's bowl?
4) You gave him his meds right?
5) Are the wipes in your car?
6) You brought extra underpants with you in your purse right?
7) What's the menu there? They got fries? No? Not here then.
8) You hid the cookies? Where? What do you mean you don't remember?
9) You gave him his melatonin right?
10) Is your brother's party gonna be huge? How many people? We won't stay long right?
11) Who gave him a shower last? When was it?
12) Did you call the insurance company about it?
13) Where's the iPad?
14) Is he playing with a dog toy?
15) When's the next meeting with the teacher?
16) Did we meet the deductible yet?
17) Does he have underwear on?
18) Does he feel hot? Is that a fever? He's to quiet. Is he getting sick?
19) Maybe we can add that to his IEP? Did you email his caseworker?
20) Do you want another glass of wine? (Betcha know that answer)
1) Is this poop? Smell this. That's poop right?
2) How wet are the sheets? A little? Here's a towel. It's 3:42am. That can keep.
3) Did he eat lunch? Besides the dog food pellet he snuck out of the dod's bowl?
4) You gave him his meds right?
5) Are the wipes in your car?
6) You brought extra underpants with you in your purse right?
7) What's the menu there? They got fries? No? Not here then.
8) You hid the cookies? Where? What do you mean you don't remember?
9) You gave him his melatonin right?
10) Is your brother's party gonna be huge? How many people? We won't stay long right?
11) Who gave him a shower last? When was it?
12) Did you call the insurance company about it?
13) Where's the iPad?
14) Is he playing with a dog toy?
15) When's the next meeting with the teacher?
16) Did we meet the deductible yet?
17) Does he have underwear on?
18) Does he feel hot? Is that a fever? He's to quiet. Is he getting sick?
19) Maybe we can add that to his IEP? Did you email his caseworker?
20) Do you want another glass of wine? (Betcha know that answer)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)