"Oh my god! What if he reads this? How can you write about your son like this? Have you no respect for his privacy?"
Actually I do, you dirty pirate hooker. Ever see his name or his picture on here? Yeah, didn't think so. So you can go have a seat over on the wench bench because I don't want to hear it. Get comfy. I have a few things to say about all this autism stuff. You see, I have the best intentions with how I parent my kiddo and that's good enough for me.
I have fantasies of my son finding this blog and being pissed. Rip roaring mad at me. Yes, I would love him to be angry about it. I would love him to feel embarrassed that I have talked about his poop. Right now though, where he is, I'm not sure that he's ever going to understand or care what's being talked about in this blog. Frankly if he did, I'd be freaking thrilled. It would mean he is doing pretty damn well in his life. So yeah, I'll take that risk. This isn't about me talking about him behind his back. This is about sharing our story so others can see what a real like autism house looks like inside. If you don't like what it looks like to you, leave.
I have the best intentions when I take my son to feeding therapy. Don't you dare tell me I haven't listened to what his needs are and what he would prefer to eat. Hello? Look at the name of this blog for crying out loud! Trust me, I have listened FOR YEARS. While others run out to the store before a snow storm for bread, milk and eggs, I am clearing the freezer section of microwave fries out. I know we are about to dive into some serious cabin fever. This is one way I can help him feel better about that. By the same time though, there is basic nutrition a growing boy needs, PERIOD. So yeah, I'm going to do something wild like introduce a protein that isn't breaded and battered. This isn't a case of him eating when he is hungry because guess what? He won't! I've watched him starve himself. I have watched him dehydrate himself and seen the effects of low blood sugar. Feel free to have your opinion that it's not necessary or I'm forcing foods on him. This is just the way biology works. Sorry, the world cannot accommodate him by making french fries filled with all the vitamins a growing healthy boy could need.
I have the best intentions when I push him outside of his comfort zone. It's not to accommodate me. It's just something I have to do. It's just something he has to do. There are things in this world that cannot be avoided. There are haircuts to be had. Nails to be trimmed. Clothes to be worn. I will do my best to accommodate him with these activities but they will still happen. So sorry Captain Pantless, grab a pair of jeans. You're not going to school naked. Your nails won't be longer than my own and your hair will be cut. Like it or not. There are social conventions that one must do. As for style of hair, that's up to me till your eighteen. Think I'm kidding? Nope, I'm not. Even then if you grow it out long, I will bug you about it kiddo just like my grandmother did to my uncle her whole life. That's just motherhood for ya. Deal with it.
You see, my intentions are to prepare this kiddo of mine well enough that he can be ready for life as an adult. I want him to have meaningful employment and maybe even live out on his own. I'm not really sure that's going to happen right now but he's proved me wrong before. So maybe he will. I won't always be there and the IEP and it's accommodations only last so long. There's a lot in this life he will just have to learn how to handle. Life isn't always fair. I'm all about giving him the tools to help him but bumps in the road will happen. I have the best intentions to raise a kind child and one that other's don't think is a brat.
I have the best intentions every morning when I wake up and every night as I fall asleep. There's never a thought that doesn't include him in the equation. I accept my intentions might not always work out well but I do intend to keep trying for him, for me and for us.