I wrote a post over here about how you can be Autistic and be an ass.
Oh yes, yes I did.
Note: if you haven't already, please try and follow over at WordPress. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be doing a double post.
Find me here at Four Sea Stars.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
I just have to survive...
Yeah, the weather was nice so I took the kids outside to play. And it didn't go so well.
Get going over here, to my new place, and read and follow. I can't keep updating this forever. OK, I may keep doing it forever. Or at least until I forget.
Get going over here, to my new place, and read and follow. I can't keep updating this forever. OK, I may keep doing it forever. Or at least until I forget.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
I messed it up....so I moved.
Yeah, I messed up the blog up over the weekend. I managed to muck things up so bad I couldn't fix them and the only logical thing to do, well it seemed logical at the time, was to move.
So I did it. I moved.
I'm now here over here: Four Sea Stars.
Please come over so I don't feel like a loser.
Note: I've retrospectively changed the wording in this post. In light of what happened in Boston, I felt it was necessary to remove certain words to respect those involved.
So I did it. I moved.
I'm now here over here: Four Sea Stars.
Please come over so I don't feel like a loser.
Note: I've retrospectively changed the wording in this post. In light of what happened in Boston, I felt it was necessary to remove certain words to respect those involved.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Nothing to see here, please keep moving...
Did you have a good Easter? I bet yours was better than ours. Matter of fact, I would place a sizable amount of money you had a better Easter than we did.
It all started after the kids went to bed and I had to grab the Easter baskets and candy. The baskets were no problem. I had them up in my closet so I didn't have to have what happened last year---which was not find a basket, throw a fit and run to Target at frigging midnight, only to find the offending basket full of Barbies in Lizzy's room the very next morning while we were looking for the new Easter basket. Ironic, no???
This year I thought I had everything where it was supposed to be and it was going to be easy. Throw the candy in the baskets, hide the baskets and chuck a few plastic eggs around the house and I'd be in bed by 11:00, tops.
Yeah, no.
I couldn't find the candy. I hid the candy too well and I couldn't find it. I hid the candy from myself.
You should have heard the language. I vowed I wasn't going to run up to Target again this year. I VOWED. I searched from one end of the house to the other. Cussing the whole time, "Where in the fuck did I put that candy? God damn it, how can I be so fucking stupid to hide the candy from myself? I am a full- fledged, card carrying member of the Idiot Society. I hid the candy from myself. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?!?"
I was not going to Target. I was not. I looked in cabinets, the pantry, the car, my closet, the bathroom, the laundry room and even in the laundry bins. Nothing, no candy.
I gave up, I used Valentine's Day candy instead.
By the time I had stopped sobbing, cursing and the getting baskets together, I threw plastic eggs out around the house and I went to bed. Not before I called my husband and told him, "FIX THIS."
It was 1:45 AM.
The kids were up at 5:45 AM.
They hunted for their baskets, found eggs and life was good. And then I heard Lizzy scream, "Mom!!!! The Easter Bunny gave me Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, I hate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!!!" Then the crying started and didn't stop.
And from another corner of the house I heard Alex wail, "Mom, the Easter Bunny gave me chocolate lambs!!! I hate chocolate lambs!!!" The basket got chucked in a corner and he went running and sobbing in the opposite direction.
Meanwhile, Gracie was sitting at the kitchen table eating everything in her basket, happy as a clam. The other two were freaking out.
The Easter Bunny, in her sleep deprived state, mixed up the baskets so my husband, after he went to Target, put the wrong candy in the wrong basket.
I screamed at them, "You guys, just switch baskets. You can do that, right?" Neither one of them heard me over their own wails. All I kept thinking was, "Sue me, I got your baskets wrong. There are starving kids in China who would LOVE to have your chocolate!" Deep down, I felt horrible.
I gave up, went to the kitchen and thought I'd get an early start on the dinner.
And I promptly dropped the ham on my foot. The brown sugar glaze packet broke the impact and in the process exploded all over the refrigerator, floor and my foot. I cursed the ham to hell and decided to work on the deviled eggs. And I couldn't get that thin layer, you know that membrane thing? I couldn't get it off the egg. I broke two eggs right off the bat and on the third one, I melted down, smashed them all in the sink, turned the disposer on and sent them on their merry way.
(And, yes, I soaked those damn eggs in cold water. I even did a trial run so this wouldn't happen and it still happened so don't tell me to soak them in cold water, I got that memo. God, that still pisses me off.)
At that point I gave up.
I took the kids to Wendy's and we had chicken nuggets and french fries for Easter. I put all the candy into one big basket and let them play Minecraft till their hearts content. I collapsed on the sofa and flipped back and forth between HGTV and DIY and after that we decapitated the lamb and ate it.
And that was our Easter. I was sad, angry and upset that I couldn't pull it off.
I was getting ready to call the kids up for bed and I heard Alex say, "This was the best Easter ever!"
And just like that, all was right with my world....but I'm still pissed at those damn eggs.
It all started after the kids went to bed and I had to grab the Easter baskets and candy. The baskets were no problem. I had them up in my closet so I didn't have to have what happened last year---which was not find a basket, throw a fit and run to Target at frigging midnight, only to find the offending basket full of Barbies in Lizzy's room the very next morning while we were looking for the new Easter basket. Ironic, no???
This year I thought I had everything where it was supposed to be and it was going to be easy. Throw the candy in the baskets, hide the baskets and chuck a few plastic eggs around the house and I'd be in bed by 11:00, tops.
Yeah, no.
I couldn't find the candy. I hid the candy too well and I couldn't find it. I hid the candy from myself.
You should have heard the language. I vowed I wasn't going to run up to Target again this year. I VOWED. I searched from one end of the house to the other. Cussing the whole time, "Where in the fuck did I put that candy? God damn it, how can I be so fucking stupid to hide the candy from myself? I am a full- fledged, card carrying member of the Idiot Society. I hid the candy from myself. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?!?"
I was not going to Target. I was not. I looked in cabinets, the pantry, the car, my closet, the bathroom, the laundry room and even in the laundry bins. Nothing, no candy.
I gave up, I used Valentine's Day candy instead.
By the time I had stopped sobbing, cursing and the getting baskets together, I threw plastic eggs out around the house and I went to bed. Not before I called my husband and told him, "FIX THIS."
It was 1:45 AM.
The kids were up at 5:45 AM.
They hunted for their baskets, found eggs and life was good. And then I heard Lizzy scream, "Mom!!!! The Easter Bunny gave me Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, I hate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!!!" Then the crying started and didn't stop.
And from another corner of the house I heard Alex wail, "Mom, the Easter Bunny gave me chocolate lambs!!! I hate chocolate lambs!!!" The basket got chucked in a corner and he went running and sobbing in the opposite direction.
Meanwhile, Gracie was sitting at the kitchen table eating everything in her basket, happy as a clam. The other two were freaking out.
The Easter Bunny, in her sleep deprived state, mixed up the baskets so my husband, after he went to Target, put the wrong candy in the wrong basket.
I screamed at them, "You guys, just switch baskets. You can do that, right?" Neither one of them heard me over their own wails. All I kept thinking was, "Sue me, I got your baskets wrong. There are starving kids in China who would LOVE to have your chocolate!" Deep down, I felt horrible.
I gave up, went to the kitchen and thought I'd get an early start on the dinner.
And I promptly dropped the ham on my foot. The brown sugar glaze packet broke the impact and in the process exploded all over the refrigerator, floor and my foot. I cursed the ham to hell and decided to work on the deviled eggs. And I couldn't get that thin layer, you know that membrane thing? I couldn't get it off the egg. I broke two eggs right off the bat and on the third one, I melted down, smashed them all in the sink, turned the disposer on and sent them on their merry way.
(And, yes, I soaked those damn eggs in cold water. I even did a trial run so this wouldn't happen and it still happened so don't tell me to soak them in cold water, I got that memo. God, that still pisses me off.)
At that point I gave up.
I took the kids to Wendy's and we had chicken nuggets and french fries for Easter. I put all the candy into one big basket and let them play Minecraft till their hearts content. I collapsed on the sofa and flipped back and forth between HGTV and DIY and after that we decapitated the lamb and ate it.
And that was our Easter. I was sad, angry and upset that I couldn't pull it off.
I was getting ready to call the kids up for bed and I heard Alex say, "This was the best Easter ever!"
And just like that, all was right with my world....but I'm still pissed at those damn eggs.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Why yes, I am Autism Aware.
April is Autism Awareness month.
And every April, I'm never quite sure what to think about it, to be honest. When you live with something every day, and it's such a big part of your life, you tend to just man-up and deal with things.
And every April I tend to get squeamish and just wish the whole thing would go away. Sure, I think the idea of awareness is a good thing, don't get me wrong. I just don't like the spot-light shining in my windows. I feel like what I do, what we do and how we do things, is on display for everyone to see and go "Ohh" and "Ahh" and exclaim, "This is Autism....I get it now."
But the thing with Autism is this---its all the time. It's not one day or even one month. It's all the time.
It's late at night when sleep is elusive and just out of reach. It's the routine we follow and it's the clothes we wear. It's the food we eat and what we don't eat. And more specifically, Autism is what we eat on a certain day, a certain way, and how the plate is set with the milk at exactly eleven o'clock, as if the plate were a clock, every single meal.
Autism is taking the exact same way to the store, never deviating. It's going up certain aisles and down others. It's the same DVD that's been in our minivan since 2010. (Megamind, if you're curious.) And it's also knowing which store to go to and when, and which one has paper towels in their bathrooms and not the sonic air blasters.
Autism is dealing with meltdowns and people staring. It's sometimes feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders and wishing like hell, just once, everyone would mind their own business.
Autism is the flapping, toe walking, lining up toys, singular play and lack of interest in others. It's hours and hours of therapy, IEP's and wishing that sometimes you could catch a break---and realizing that the only break you may get is the one in the therapy waiting room.
Autism is all that.
But it's also something else, something more. Something you won't see in a single day or even in a month.
Autism is coming to terms with a new life, a new way of living. It's letting some people go and drift out of your life, while finding others. Autism is sometimes being alone when things are at their worst, yet knowing deep down, you would never dream of being any place else.
Autism is looking at your child and laughing at their joke and being amazed, truly amazed, at the child in front of you.
Autism is getting that first smile, that first word and that first look into their eyes.
Autism is being comfortable in your own skin and helping your child grow into the person they are to become---because you see potential. You see their greatness.
Autism is finding out that things are different but its also knowing you wouldn't change it for the world.
It's finding out too, that you're a different person---a stronger, wiser, person. A person you never thought you'd be. And to take a minute and look back and remember your old self? It's like looking into someone else's life, peering into their rear view mirror and realizing that what's come into focus is different from what you expected, but not completely foreign. And it's realizing that this, this is where you belong.
And that is Autism for us. That's what you'll find when you peer into my windows and take a peek into my life. You'll find Autism, but you'll also find much more. Much, much more.
Autism is a part of us and a part of our lives. Autism just is, it's who we are. And I wouldn't change that for the world, I wouldn't want to.
Autism simply is.
Autism simply is, us.
And every April, I'm never quite sure what to think about it, to be honest. When you live with something every day, and it's such a big part of your life, you tend to just man-up and deal with things.
And every April I tend to get squeamish and just wish the whole thing would go away. Sure, I think the idea of awareness is a good thing, don't get me wrong. I just don't like the spot-light shining in my windows. I feel like what I do, what we do and how we do things, is on display for everyone to see and go "Ohh" and "Ahh" and exclaim, "This is Autism....I get it now."
But the thing with Autism is this---its all the time. It's not one day or even one month. It's all the time.
It's late at night when sleep is elusive and just out of reach. It's the routine we follow and it's the clothes we wear. It's the food we eat and what we don't eat. And more specifically, Autism is what we eat on a certain day, a certain way, and how the plate is set with the milk at exactly eleven o'clock, as if the plate were a clock, every single meal.
Autism is taking the exact same way to the store, never deviating. It's going up certain aisles and down others. It's the same DVD that's been in our minivan since 2010. (Megamind, if you're curious.) And it's also knowing which store to go to and when, and which one has paper towels in their bathrooms and not the sonic air blasters.
Autism is dealing with meltdowns and people staring. It's sometimes feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders and wishing like hell, just once, everyone would mind their own business.
Autism is the flapping, toe walking, lining up toys, singular play and lack of interest in others. It's hours and hours of therapy, IEP's and wishing that sometimes you could catch a break---and realizing that the only break you may get is the one in the therapy waiting room.
Autism is all that.
But it's also something else, something more. Something you won't see in a single day or even in a month.
Autism is coming to terms with a new life, a new way of living. It's letting some people go and drift out of your life, while finding others. Autism is sometimes being alone when things are at their worst, yet knowing deep down, you would never dream of being any place else.
Autism is looking at your child and laughing at their joke and being amazed, truly amazed, at the child in front of you.
Autism is getting that first smile, that first word and that first look into their eyes.
Autism is being comfortable in your own skin and helping your child grow into the person they are to become---because you see potential. You see their greatness.
Autism is finding out that things are different but its also knowing you wouldn't change it for the world.
It's finding out too, that you're a different person---a stronger, wiser, person. A person you never thought you'd be. And to take a minute and look back and remember your old self? It's like looking into someone else's life, peering into their rear view mirror and realizing that what's come into focus is different from what you expected, but not completely foreign. And it's realizing that this, this is where you belong.
And that is Autism for us. That's what you'll find when you peer into my windows and take a peek into my life. You'll find Autism, but you'll also find much more. Much, much more.
Autism is a part of us and a part of our lives. Autism just is, it's who we are. And I wouldn't change that for the world, I wouldn't want to.
Autism simply is.
Autism simply is, us.
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