Meh.

Warning! The will not be a post filled with "Gee, ain't autism just dandy and grand?!"  This post was written by a freaking tired Mother.  One who is currently wondering if snorting coffee grounds like Tony Montana from Scarface on a bender might actually keep her awake.  Yeah, it's been that kind of couple of days here at good old French Fry Inc.

Currently, the Kiddo and I are having what some might describe as a "failure to communicate", which the  forecast predicts no signs of that getting better anytime soon.  We spend countless time and money on getting this Kiddo to talk.  In the beginning, every possible motivator is offered in a desperate attempt to just use his damn words.  Eventually he starts to do some basic communication and if your kid doesn't, this is where you are thinking "What the feck is the problem?" Here's the thing.  Teaching them to talk, that's easy.  Teaching them to effectively communicate and comprehend what is being said in return? Not so much so.  In the past three days the Kiddo has requested it be August 25th no less than 374 times.  (We have a little fun activity planned that day.) He's not quite accepting that although I am talented enough to make Tater Tot Casserole, altering the laws of time and physics is not in my wheelhouse.  So he simply just asks again, throwing in that token "Please!" with it because he figures "Oh! She just needs to hear that word that grown ups are always harping on about."   This continues on and on.  He pretty much pours the gasoline on the anxiety fire he built himself.  He winds up melting down.  I wind up in tears.  End scene.

I found myself having to say "No" to a family BBQ invite the other day because to quote my 13 year old niece, "I literally can't even."  (Somewhere her Spidey senses are telling her that a 41 year old has now used this phrase and it's now no longer "on fleek". Opps! There goes another one. Look it up people. I can't Google everything for you.)  Anyway, my one brother in law and his wife is very nice people but organization for a party? Hell, even having shopped for it? Not their strong suit.  Don't get me wrong.  Pre Kiddo, "Oh you haven't started to even cook yet?  Pour me another glass of wine."  Now? I'm in a yard with no fences, no pool, no swingset, much older girl cousins that would rather be staring at their iPhones on Snapchat and no signs of food or anyone actually even suggesting "Oh I guess I'll turn on the grill."  Did I mention they also like to cook amazing things like mojito marinated steak?   Sounds awesome to anyone other than my Kiddo.  So the last few of these I was really trying to roll with it. I was feeding him before we went because I knew there would be little there he would actually eat.  My husband would take him on walks during them around the block to decompress and burn some energy off.   The last time though, lots of anxiety. Lots of pacing.  Lots of scripting.  Too many new people.  Too much of disorder in his eyes.  After three hours, we left.  We hadn't even eaten yet and he was on the verge of a meltdown.  His behavior for the rest of the day was dicey.  Getting that text invite made me sigh.  I just cannot do it to him and I cannot do it myself.  My husband might go so he can have a nice break but it sucks because we were all invited.  We should all go but with no school for the next three weeks and nerves thinned, it's just the sucktastic call that I had to make.  They're disappointed and confused.  I'm just generally besides myself that we can't even do a casual get together without being an effing production.

It is 23 days before he goes back to school and although we've done long breaks like this before, this time of year just BLOWS for all of us.  He is at his most heightened state.  My nerves are shot and it's getting harder and harder to just breath deep and try again.  Combine that with a healthy dose of guilt over feeling all these things in the first place.  So if you are currently crafting your comment to tell me off.  Save yourself the step and know I already feel like shit about it.  You really couldn't say much worse to me than I already feel about it.

And you know what's also in the back in my head?  All of you.  I'm Mama Fry for crying out loud.  Here I am telling all of you all the time to not get stuck in this place.  I know how easy and dangerous it is to wallow in self pity.  It gets nothing done and I'm already two loads behind in the laundry.  I cannot stay in this spot and I am concerned it will take more than a simple side of fries to get me out of it.