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.