Click here for more information.
HA HA HA!! I'm just kidding, don't click there. Click on the picture above or here.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Autism WTF on Blog Talk Radio
Click here for more information.
HA HA HA!! I'm just kidding, don't click there. Click on the picture above or here.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sorry I trolled you guys yesterday
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| I would make this my new logo except I stole the troll face from reddit which was originated at 4chan |
You know, that "click on this innocent looking link" thing. It totally worked, though, I went from #8 to #6. I'm probably going to start doing that every once in a while but I figure I'll have to switch things up to keep you surprised. Because, who am I kidding, I am incapable of not obsessing about things. Hubs and I were talking about this the other day and I insisted "I no longer care about my TMB ranking, remember?" and he said "yeah, so, how's that going for you?" Snarky fucker. He's right, though, just because I claim that I will no longer be obsessive doesn't mean it will actually happen.
Last night hubs and I went out to karaoke in the city; a hip new place we'd never been to before! We were, by far, the oldest, fattest people in the place. It did a number on my self esteem and today I'm feeling like a big neurotic mess. A BIG. NEUROTIC. FUCKING. MESS. I only did one song (below; sorry about the ad, I couldn't find a better version) and I think it went pretty well, but still. Ugh. So now I'm craving validation. Anybody feel like feeding my ego? It sure could use it right about now. Even if you don't really like me, maybe just pretend you do. Or even if you actually hate my fucking guts, maybe you could make a point to tell me that you don't. I will accept comments, emails, text messages, Facebook messages, @messages on Twitter, phone calls, faxes, carrier pigeons or anything else you can think of.
EDIT: Check out the troll face Big Daddy made for me! It's so much a more accurate depiction of what I really look (and feel) like. THANKS!
Installing a new commenting thingy
This is really the kind of thing one should only do when sober, but.... ehhh. Fuck it. Let's see how it goes, shall we?
Can you help me test this thing? Click here.
Can you help me test this thing? Click here.
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| *snicker* |
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Out of the mouths of babes 22
Child 2: Hey, watch this!
Me: Okay, let's see it.
Child 2: I was talking... to the CAT!
Me: Okay, let's see it.
Child 2: I was talking... to the CAT!
I'm. Awesome. WAIT! Don't go! Hear me out!
I've been given some awards! I know, right? Me? The creator of the ugliest award ever invented? An award so horrifying that the farther out into blogland it goes, the more offended people are when they receive it? Seriously, I saw on somebody's blog somewhere that somebody was actually pissed they got it because the damn thing is so ugly. I don't remember where it was. But, seriously, if you're actually that pissed, why not just ignore it? Isn't that what you do with memes that annoy you? And children? Not that last one? Just me? Okay.
Anyway, speaking of awards and memes, I've been given two this week. TWO.
WAIT! Before you read on, please click on this innocent looking link and then come back. Don't be scared. It will open in a new window so you won't even lose your place. It's okay. I'll wait.
*whistle*
HA HA HA!! SUCKERS!! Okay, anyway, about those awards I've been given.....
The Sylish Blogger award, given to me by Laura at Literary Legs. That's kind of funny, actually, somebody calling me "stylish." She must not know me very well. But thanks Laura! Everybody go over there and follow her, she's smart and she reads a lot. I'm not sure why a smart person who reads a lot would want to give ME an award, maybe she was drunk? No, really, she describes her blog as "Literary Legs is a weblog for creative writers and poets. It is a place to engage in discussion, access writing prompts, and discover valuable resources for artistic expression. It is my hope that this blog will provide inspiration to writers of all walks of life." I bet a lot of you would like that, so go check her out!
A Bloggy Award, given to me by Bella @ If This is Motherhood. I like how this one is straight and to the point. "A Bloggy Award." No beating around the bush, no messing around with fancy names. It's an award for blogging. A Bloggy Award. Nice. Bella wondered if I would be drunk enough to accept this award from her. I said I was just drunk enough to accept it. Thanks Bella! Bella blogs about her two beautiful and gifted children. My favorite post of hers is called "Dignity be Damned." I won't link to it, though, you're just going to have to go over there and find it for yourself. I love awesomely honest posts that make you cringe just a little bit!
I'm pretty sure these awards come with rules, I'm supposed to list some things about myself and then pass it on. I don't really want to list things about myself, though. Not because I'm against sharing things, but because I can never think of anything (that's actually true) when I'm tasked with such a thing, and now is no different. I can very easily make shit up, but that's not how these awards work.
I will, however, pass them on. I think I'm supposed to pick 10 people for the first one and 3 for the second one. Instead I will pick 3 for each and screw the thing listing. There's a pretty good chance that all of these guys have already been given these awards, but fuck it.... you're getting it again, bitches!
AWARD THE SECOND IS HEREBY PASSED ON TO
YAY!! And now I don't have to think of anything to write about for at least another 24 hours. Enjoy!
Anyway, speaking of awards and memes, I've been given two this week. TWO.
WAIT! Before you read on, please click on this innocent looking link and then come back. Don't be scared. It will open in a new window so you won't even lose your place. It's okay. I'll wait.
*whistle*
HA HA HA!! SUCKERS!! Okay, anyway, about those awards I've been given.....
AWARD THE FIRST
The Sylish Blogger award, given to me by Laura at Literary Legs. That's kind of funny, actually, somebody calling me "stylish." She must not know me very well. But thanks Laura! Everybody go over there and follow her, she's smart and she reads a lot. I'm not sure why a smart person who reads a lot would want to give ME an award, maybe she was drunk? No, really, she describes her blog as "Literary Legs is a weblog for creative writers and poets. It is a place to engage in discussion, access writing prompts, and discover valuable resources for artistic expression. It is my hope that this blog will provide inspiration to writers of all walks of life." I bet a lot of you would like that, so go check her out!
AWARD THE SECOND
A Bloggy Award, given to me by Bella @ If This is Motherhood. I like how this one is straight and to the point. "A Bloggy Award." No beating around the bush, no messing around with fancy names. It's an award for blogging. A Bloggy Award. Nice. Bella wondered if I would be drunk enough to accept this award from her. I said I was just drunk enough to accept it. Thanks Bella! Bella blogs about her two beautiful and gifted children. My favorite post of hers is called "Dignity be Damned." I won't link to it, though, you're just going to have to go over there and find it for yourself. I love awesomely honest posts that make you cringe just a little bit!
I'm pretty sure these awards come with rules, I'm supposed to list some things about myself and then pass it on. I don't really want to list things about myself, though. Not because I'm against sharing things, but because I can never think of anything (that's actually true) when I'm tasked with such a thing, and now is no different. I can very easily make shit up, but that's not how these awards work.
I will, however, pass them on. I think I'm supposed to pick 10 people for the first one and 3 for the second one. Instead I will pick 3 for each and screw the thing listing. There's a pretty good chance that all of these guys have already been given these awards, but fuck it.... you're getting it again, bitches!
AWARD THE FIRST IS HEREBY PASSED ON TO
Tina at Not Just Another Mother Blogger
RacersMommy at Seven YuckMouths and Autism
Alison at Autism Awakening, Roman's Journey
AWARD THE SECOND IS HEREBY PASSED ON TO
Dawn at This Side of Typical
Jessica at Four Plus an Angel
Cheryl at Little Bit Quirky
YAY!! And now I don't have to think of anything to write about for at least another 24 hours. Enjoy!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Before I had kids.....
You know it's true that the only time in your entire life when you know absolutely everything there is to know about parenting is before you have kids. That's when you feel supremely confident in your parenting abilities and have no problem informing those who actually have kids exactly what they're doing wrong and what you would do if you were them. Then, of course, the kids come along and you realize what a fucking idiot you've been. Not only do you realize that you were actually completely clueless before the kids came, but now that they're here, you're STILL totally fucking clueless. It's amazing any of them manage to live past their first few weeks. I remember once being at Safeway and watching a mom pull a container of formula off the shelf and silently judging the fuck out of her. "I would NEVER feed my kids formula. EWWW! GROSS!" I thought. One of these days I'll tell you guys about my double breastfeeding failures.
Child 1: Once when he was around 18 months I was holding him on my arms which were outstretched, he was on his back looking up at me, and I was swinging him around by turning myself in circles. He was having a blast until I jiggled him the wrong way or something and he rolled right off my arms and onto the ground.
Child 2: In the very first hour that he was home from the hospital I had him on the changing table and I was cutting off the ankle bracelet the hospital put on him. I was using giant office scissors and cutting the band with the tip of the scissors and I didn't realize that one of his little toes was stuck in the other end of the blades. I snipped that band right off his ankle and the top layer of skin on his little toe right along with it.
Anyway, my actual point in all of this is to relay this lovely incident that happened the other day:
I stepped on something on the rug in the bedroom with my bare feet; it was cold and squishy. And BROWN. It was stuck between my toes and I reached down to get it out and I say to the hubs "Holy shit I hope this is a raisin" and I smelled it to make sure. I fucking smelled it. To make sure it was a raisin. And not a piece of poop.
Hubs started laughing at me. "Can you imagine ever doing that before you had kids?" I hadn't even thought about it, really; I just wanted to know what it was so I smelled it. But no fucking way in hell would I have ever done that before I had kids! Before kids I would have scraped my foot onto the trashcan so I didn't even have to touch it, much less pluck it out of my toes with my hands and bring it to my face. Now, I guess, it's just second nature for me to smell every cold, squishy brown thing that gets stuck between my toes. Just to be sure.
It was a raisin. Good thing I smelled it.
Hey, did I ever tell you guys about the time I hit my kid over the head with a frying pan? Good times.
SHAMEFUL PARENTING STORIES INTERLUDE
Child 1: Once when he was around 18 months I was holding him on my arms which were outstretched, he was on his back looking up at me, and I was swinging him around by turning myself in circles. He was having a blast until I jiggled him the wrong way or something and he rolled right off my arms and onto the ground.
Child 2: In the very first hour that he was home from the hospital I had him on the changing table and I was cutting off the ankle bracelet the hospital put on him. I was using giant office scissors and cutting the band with the tip of the scissors and I didn't realize that one of his little toes was stuck in the other end of the blades. I snipped that band right off his ankle and the top layer of skin on his little toe right along with it.
END OF SHAMEFUL PARENTING STORIES INTERLUDE
Anyway, my actual point in all of this is to relay this lovely incident that happened the other day:
I stepped on something on the rug in the bedroom with my bare feet; it was cold and squishy. And BROWN. It was stuck between my toes and I reached down to get it out and I say to the hubs "Holy shit I hope this is a raisin" and I smelled it to make sure. I fucking smelled it. To make sure it was a raisin. And not a piece of poop.
Hubs started laughing at me. "Can you imagine ever doing that before you had kids?" I hadn't even thought about it, really; I just wanted to know what it was so I smelled it. But no fucking way in hell would I have ever done that before I had kids! Before kids I would have scraped my foot onto the trashcan so I didn't even have to touch it, much less pluck it out of my toes with my hands and bring it to my face. Now, I guess, it's just second nature for me to smell every cold, squishy brown thing that gets stuck between my toes. Just to be sure.
It was a raisin. Good thing I smelled it.
Hey, did I ever tell you guys about the time I hit my kid over the head with a frying pan? Good times.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I'm dysfunctional today!
But just today, though. Not like all those other days, because today I am guest posting over at DysfunctionalSupermom.com. (remember the other day when I said I was giving her an award because I love her and think she's awesome and not because I was stalling and distracting because I forgot to write her a guest post? I stand by that! I do.)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Proposed Revision to DSMV: 299.00 Autistic Disorder
EDIT4: Thanks to aspergirlmaybe for the heads up about this! I didn't know they also had the Levels of Severity on there. This is a really important part of this discussion!!
EDIT2: I'm putting this at the top so it won't get overlooked.
In my opinion, to the question of "does the label really matter?" speaking as a mother and a human being, no, of course the label doesn't matter. But the opinions of moms and human beings don't really count when it comes to kids getting services, do they? What do insurance companies and school districts think? DOES the label really matter? That's the problem I'm having with this. We don't really know the answer right now, but I worry about what this means for the future. I'm certainly not saying I have any answers, just that I worry. I do that.
EDIT3: Okay, I realize that adult aspies might take issue with what I've said above. I'm only talking about kids getting diagnosed correctly and early enough to get services
From The Proposed DSMV
This would be all that's in there and there is no more Asperger's Disorder.
Edit: PDD-NOS would also be eliminated
Thoughts?
Severity Level for ASD | Social Communication | Restricted interests & repetitive behaviors |
| Level 3 ‘Requiring very substantial support’ | Severe deficits in verbal and nonverbal social communication skills cause severe impairments in functioning; very limited initiation of social interactions and minimal response to social overtures from others. | Preoccupations, fixated rituals and/or repetitive behaviors markedly interfere with functioning in all spheres. Marked distress when rituals or routines are interrupted; very difficult to redirect from fixated interest or returns to it quickly. |
| Level 2 ‘Requiring substantial support’ | Marked deficits in verbal and nonverbal social communication skills; social impairments apparent even with supports in place; limited initiation of social interactions and reduced or abnormal response to social overtures from others. | RRBs and/or preoccupations or fixated interests appear frequently enough to be obvious to the casual observer and interfere with functioning in a variety of contexts. Distress or frustration is apparent when RRB’s are interrupted; difficult to redirect from fixated interest. |
| Level 1 ‘Requiring support’ | Without supports in place, deficits in social communication cause noticeable impairments. Has difficulty initiating social interactions and demonstrates clear examples of atypical or unsuccessful responses to social overtures of others. May appear to have decreased interest in social interactions. | Rituals and repetitive behaviors (RRB’s) cause significant interference with functioning in one or more contexts. Resists attempts by others to interrupt RRB’s or to be redirected from fixated interest. |
EDIT2: I'm putting this at the top so it won't get overlooked.
In my opinion, to the question of "does the label really matter?" speaking as a mother and a human being, no, of course the label doesn't matter. But the opinions of moms and human beings don't really count when it comes to kids getting services, do they? What do insurance companies and school districts think? DOES the label really matter? That's the problem I'm having with this. We don't really know the answer right now, but I worry about what this means for the future. I'm certainly not saying I have any answers, just that I worry. I do that.
EDIT3: Okay, I realize that adult aspies might take issue with what I've said above. I'm only talking about kids getting diagnosed correctly and early enough to get services
From The Proposed DSMV
Autism Spectrum Disorder
Must meet criteria A, B, C, and D:
A. Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across contexts, not accounted for by general developmental delays, and manifest by all 3 of the following:
B. Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities as manifested by at least two of the following:
- Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity; ranging from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back and forth conversation through reduced sharing of interests, emotions, and affect and response to total lack of initiation of social interaction,
- Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction; ranging from poorly integrated- verbal and nonverbal communication, through abnormalities in eye contact and body-language, or deficits in understanding and use of nonverbal communication, to total lack of facial expression or gestures.
- Deficits in developing and maintaining relationships, appropriate to developmental level (beyond those with caregivers); ranging from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit different social contexts through difficulties in sharing imaginative play and in making friends to an apparent absence of interest in people
C. Symptoms must be present in early childhood (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities)
- Stereotyped or repetitive speech, motor movements, or use of objects; (such as simple motor stereotypies, echolalia, repetitive use of objects, or idiosyncratic phrases).
- Excessive adherence to routines, ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior, or excessive resistance to change; (such as motoric rituals, insistence on same route or food, repetitive questioning or extreme distress at small changes).
- Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus; (such as strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).
- Hyper-or hypo-reactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of environment; (such as apparent indifference to pain/heat/cold, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, fascination with lights or spinning objects).
D. Symptoms together limit and impair everyday functioning.
This would be all that's in there and there is no more Asperger's Disorder.
Edit: PDD-NOS would also be eliminated
Thoughts?
The Birthday Free Pass
I think that on the day of your birthday you should get to do whatever you want. On MY birthday, I get drunk and run around the streets naked. The one day out of the year when you have a free pass? It's only fair, right? This is the theory I subscribe to in my house, anyway.
Lately my kids have been arguing about everything. Perfectly natural for siblings to do, and usually I stay out of it and let them fight amongst themselves (unless something is about to get broken or somebody is about to get hurt or I'm about to hurt somebody and then I intervene). I have a whole long explanation about why I do this, but that will take me off topic (moreso), so let's just go with "I'm really fucking lazy and don't have the energy to deal with it most of the time." That's believable enough, I figure. But today was Child 1's birthday and I was able to say all day long "Sorry, Child 2, but it's Child 1's birthday and he gets to decide today. When it's your birthday you get to do the same." It really made things easier, because how can you argue with that when you're 5? Child 2 says "Wow, Child 1 sure is bossy today." I said "It's his birthday, it's okay."
Anyway, today I let him have his way with me, and since he's so used to being bossed around by me, he had a BLAST telling me what to do, mostly while I was driving. Here are some examples of the things he said and got away with:
"Drive as close as you can to that car in front of us!"
"STOP for the red light!!" (thanks for that one, dude)
"Turn left. Then left again. Now turn around and go back the other way. Now turn right."
"Don't drive down this street, turn around and go down the one we just passed."
"Can I have a bologna sandwich while I wait for you to make dinner?"
"MAMA! Come into my room and turn the light on for me! Okay, you can go now." (hmmmm. starting to bug me just a little bit, but okay....)
"Come in the mancave while I watch videos. You have to lie down and not speak until I say you can." (this was nearly impossible but I managed it somehow)
etc.
It was fun.
Lately my kids have been arguing about everything. Perfectly natural for siblings to do, and usually I stay out of it and let them fight amongst themselves (unless something is about to get broken or somebody is about to get hurt or I'm about to hurt somebody and then I intervene). I have a whole long explanation about why I do this, but that will take me off topic (moreso), so let's just go with "I'm really fucking lazy and don't have the energy to deal with it most of the time." That's believable enough, I figure. But today was Child 1's birthday and I was able to say all day long "Sorry, Child 2, but it's Child 1's birthday and he gets to decide today. When it's your birthday you get to do the same." It really made things easier, because how can you argue with that when you're 5? Child 2 says "Wow, Child 1 sure is bossy today." I said "It's his birthday, it's okay."
Anyway, today I let him have his way with me, and since he's so used to being bossed around by me, he had a BLAST telling me what to do, mostly while I was driving. Here are some examples of the things he said and got away with:
"Drive as close as you can to that car in front of us!"
"STOP for the red light!!" (thanks for that one, dude)
"Turn left. Then left again. Now turn around and go back the other way. Now turn right."
"Don't drive down this street, turn around and go down the one we just passed."
"Can I have a bologna sandwich while I wait for you to make dinner?"
"MAMA! Come into my room and turn the light on for me! Okay, you can go now." (hmmmm. starting to bug me just a little bit, but okay....)
"Come in the mancave while I watch videos. You have to lie down and not speak until I say you can." (this was nearly impossible but I managed it somehow)
etc.
It was fun.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHILD 1
My baby is 9 years old today. NINE. He's almost in the double digits. I'm not freaking out, for some reason. Maybe that will happen later.
Anyway, here are some pictures of his FIRST birthday party that I thought you might enjoy. I don't usually show pictures of my kids but I figured since these were taken 8 years ago and he doesn't look like this anymore, it should be okay. I did, however (obviously) Photoshop fix the writing that was on the cake, because it had a frosto.
This was obviously before the major food/sensory issues that he still has today; I cannot imagine him ever again getting this messy with food. This was also the best birthday party I have ever experienced in my life.
Anyway, here are some pictures of his FIRST birthday party that I thought you might enjoy. I don't usually show pictures of my kids but I figured since these were taken 8 years ago and he doesn't look like this anymore, it should be okay. I did, however (obviously) Photoshop fix the writing that was on the cake, because it had a frosto.
This was obviously before the major food/sensory issues that he still has today; I cannot imagine him ever again getting this messy with food. This was also the best birthday party I have ever experienced in my life.
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| The cake. Since this was birthday #1, it was a carrot cake, made with only organic, all natural ingredients. *snicker* He had never had anything like it before, as you will soon see. |
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| "Do you like my hat?" "No, I do not like this party hat." |
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| "What is this substance you have given me? It's red and sticky. I'm dubious." |
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| "HOLY SHIT. THIS IS THE GREATEST THING EVER INVENTED. DON'T STOP ME, I'M GOIN' IN!" |
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| "I approve of your food choices, Mother. Oh, yes. I do approve." |
Brandi the Dysfunctional Supermom: Memetastic
I have decided to break my own rules and bestow this awesome award to somebody else, totally out of context and with no apparent rhyme or reason; to Brandi, who blogs at DysfunctionalSupermom.com. I'm only doing this because I love and adore her and think she's the bees knees and NOT because I promised her a guest post about a month ago and then totally forgot and now I'm trying to distract and stall while I actually write something. I said it's NOT because of that last thing. Not. I'm serious.
So, Brandi, here are the rules, which you are now obligated to follow, even though I'm not actually following them, I'm only giving you this award and not doing any of the other things I've listed here. That fact is irrelevant. Just follow the rules, dammit! And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some writing to do.....
Here are the rules:
1. You must proudly display the absolutely disgusting graphic that I have created for these purposes (put it in your post, you don't have to put it in your sidebar, I think that would seriously be asking too much). It's so bad that not only did I use COMIC SANS, but there's even a little fucking jumping, celebrating kitten down there at the bottom. It's horrifying! But its presence in your award celebration is crucial to the memetastic process we're creating here. If you need a higher resolution version... I totally have one!!
2. You must list 5 things about yourself, and 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make some shit up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you. Except for the 4 that you lied about, you lying bastards! But don't go crazy trying to think of stuff, you'll see by the example I've set below that we're not really interested in quality here.
3. You must pass this award on to 5 bloggers that you either like or don't like or don't really have much of an opinion about. I don't care who you pick, and nobody needs to know why. I mean, you can give a reason if you want, but I don't really care.
4. If you fail to follow any of the above rules, I will fucking hunt your ass down and harass you incessantly until you either block me on Twitter or ban my IP address from visiting your blog. I don't know if you can actually do that last thing, but I will become so annoying to you that you will actually go out and hire an IT professional to train you on how to ban IP addresses just so that I'll leave you alone. I'm serious. I'm going to do these things.
5. This one isn't actually a rule, but once you do the above, please come back here and link up to the Memetastic Hop so that I can keep track of where this thing goes.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Memetastic Hop
I'm having a good deal of trouble tracking where this thing is ending up, so if you've been a lucky recipient, please link up with your celebratory post so we can all enjoy the various acceptance speeches and bold-faced lies you've all come up with.
Incidentally, my rule about stalking your asses still applies. I know a few of you who have gotten this and haven't posted about it. You people are on my list. Not the list in this post, though, a different list. A worse list. Much, much worse.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wait. I should put WHAT there?
I was vacuuming out my car yesterday and was reminded of the following experience which I will now share with you......
About 6 years ago Hubs and I were shopping for a new minivan. I was pregnant with Child 2 and we had a 3 year old Child 1 in tow. We were obviously the perfect minivan buyers: young child, child on the way, eventual soccer mom, etc. and the sales guy was workin us hard to make the sale. He proudly showed off the features of this car (that we eventually bought, but not from this guy. sorry) and I shit you not, the experience went like this:
I remember there was another pregnant couple there, and I said "Why does this guy keep talking about Cheerios?" They didn't get it, either.
But. I get it now. Oh... how I get it now.
Related
EDIT: These are NOT pictures of my actual car. I googled "honda odyssey interior" to find these pictures. THIS is a picture of my actual car. Hey, look! CHEERIOS!!
EDIT 2: By the way, I counted the number of empty ketchup packets that I removed while I was cleaning the other day. There were 10 of them.
About 6 years ago Hubs and I were shopping for a new minivan. I was pregnant with Child 2 and we had a 3 year old Child 1 in tow. We were obviously the perfect minivan buyers: young child, child on the way, eventual soccer mom, etc. and the sales guy was workin us hard to make the sale. He proudly showed off the features of this car (that we eventually bought, but not from this guy. sorry) and I shit you not, the experience went like this:
 |
| "You pull down this container from above your head to store your sunglasses. Or, you could put Cheerios in there." |
 |
| "If you lift up the floor mats you'll find some more compartments for storage. You could put Cheerios in there." |
 | ||
| "There are 427 cupholders. You could put Cheerios in there." |
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| "See the pockets on the back of the chairs? You could put Cheerios in there." |
I remember there was another pregnant couple there, and I said "Why does this guy keep talking about Cheerios?" They didn't get it, either.
But. I get it now. Oh... how I get it now.
Related
EDIT: These are NOT pictures of my actual car. I googled "honda odyssey interior" to find these pictures. THIS is a picture of my actual car. Hey, look! CHEERIOS!!
EDIT 2: By the way, I counted the number of empty ketchup packets that I removed while I was cleaning the other day. There were 10 of them.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Okay, I think this is getting a little out of hand
So, I can be a little obsessive about things. When I set my sights on something, I will not stop thinking about it, and figuring out ways to make it happen, and lying in bed at night not sleeping wondering how it's going. Etc. This can be good if the topic at hand is something like "Getting My Child Into an ABA Program" or "Must Find The Perfect Birthday Gift." This is bad, however, when the topic is something meaningless and inane and has no real importance in the world outside of my own head and ego. Some times it just reaches massive levels of absurdity when I'm forced to stop and actually think rationally about it.
So, first a confession: I am no longer the Mayor of Target. I know. You're shocked and probably disappointed because you so enjoyed living in a world where I was the Mayor of Target, but no. I have voluntarily given up my title because I encountered another person who was, apparently, just better at cheating than I was and I had to let it go. It was the moment when I woke up that one morning to the email notification from Foursquare that I had been ousted as Mayor, and I felt actual outrage at the idea, that I realized it was probably time to let this one go. ACTUAL OUTRAGE. Because I was no longer mayor. Of Target. On foursquare. Seriously? This is what's making me feel outraged? I'm not outraged because the conditions in Haiti are still totally fucked up for the people living there, or that an enormous number of Americans can't afford health insurance and have to opt out of necessary surgeries to keep themselves alive because they can't afford it. No, I guess those things just aren't as important to me as keeping an imaginary, meaningless title that gets me nothing and means nothing to anybody.
It's called perspective, Jill. Get some.
So, I let go of the Target/Mayor dream. I had to, it had reached the levels of absurdity that I mentioned before. You can have it, Jessica H. Whoever you are.
My latest absurd obsession has become my ranking on Top Mommy Blogs. Look, I've dropped to #8. A couple of days ago I was #5. Last night when I logged on to see where I was, which I now do about 10 times a day, and saw that I had gone down again, I had another one of those "WTF are you doing" moments involving perspective. Because, you see, I've been doing things like obsessively checking the "out clicks" in my site stats and actually getting mad when I see people have visited, commented, but not clicked on the link to vote for me. Seriously? Getting mad? Because my friends have visited and left a little comment love but didn't click? That's absurd. I've actually been considering taking my laptop, every day, and driving around town looking for open WiFi networks so that I could vote for myself multiple times.
Once again, I have officially reached that level of absurdity where some perspective has become necessary. And so, I must give up another dream in order to save myself. Even though I was getting a fuck-ton of traffic when I was #5, I've removed the banner from showing up in every post and I'm going to have to just watch as I drop farther down in the ranks. I don't mean to make anybody feel guilty or anything (because I know who you are, person using Comcast in Los Angeles who visits but never clicks there) and I'm not saying this hoping that you'll start a campaign of clicking or anything. This is kind of like therapy for me. The first step is admitting you have a problem and all that crap....
So, first a confession: I am no longer the Mayor of Target. I know. You're shocked and probably disappointed because you so enjoyed living in a world where I was the Mayor of Target, but no. I have voluntarily given up my title because I encountered another person who was, apparently, just better at cheating than I was and I had to let it go. It was the moment when I woke up that one morning to the email notification from Foursquare that I had been ousted as Mayor, and I felt actual outrage at the idea, that I realized it was probably time to let this one go. ACTUAL OUTRAGE. Because I was no longer mayor. Of Target. On foursquare. Seriously? This is what's making me feel outraged? I'm not outraged because the conditions in Haiti are still totally fucked up for the people living there, or that an enormous number of Americans can't afford health insurance and have to opt out of necessary surgeries to keep themselves alive because they can't afford it. No, I guess those things just aren't as important to me as keeping an imaginary, meaningless title that gets me nothing and means nothing to anybody.
It's called perspective, Jill. Get some.
So, I let go of the Target/Mayor dream. I had to, it had reached the levels of absurdity that I mentioned before. You can have it, Jessica H. Whoever you are.
My latest absurd obsession has become my ranking on Top Mommy Blogs. Look, I've dropped to #8. A couple of days ago I was #5. Last night when I logged on to see where I was, which I now do about 10 times a day, and saw that I had gone down again, I had another one of those "WTF are you doing" moments involving perspective. Because, you see, I've been doing things like obsessively checking the "out clicks" in my site stats and actually getting mad when I see people have visited, commented, but not clicked on the link to vote for me. Seriously? Getting mad? Because my friends have visited and left a little comment love but didn't click? That's absurd. I've actually been considering taking my laptop, every day, and driving around town looking for open WiFi networks so that I could vote for myself multiple times.
Once again, I have officially reached that level of absurdity where some perspective has become necessary. And so, I must give up another dream in order to save myself. Even though I was getting a fuck-ton of traffic when I was #5, I've removed the banner from showing up in every post and I'm going to have to just watch as I drop farther down in the ranks. I don't mean to make anybody feel guilty or anything (because I know who you are, person using Comcast in Los Angeles who visits but never clicks there) and I'm not saying this hoping that you'll start a campaign of clicking or anything. This is kind of like therapy for me. The first step is admitting you have a problem and all that crap....
Friday, January 21, 2011
I'm a featured blogger! Jealous?
Jessica at Four Plus an Angel has started a new series where she features a blogger every Friday, and I'm today!! Jessica is awesome, except I can't help but notice she's creeping up on my #7 spot at TMB, so be careful with your clicks when you go over there. (Just kidding, Jess. No I'm not).
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Memetastic Award!
EDIT: BTW, that's pronounced meem-tastic. I didn't want you pronouncing it wrong in your head. How embarrassing....
I've created an award!! You know those blogger awards that go around the blogosphere, I've gotten a few before. It's nice, to get these things, it means that somebody likes you and wants to spread your word. (That actually sounded kind of gross, "spread your word." Please don't spread my word, I like my word the way it should be, the way nature intended, in its original unspread state. But you know what I mean). So, I figured there aren't enough of these things around, at least, I haven't been given one for a few months, surely the blogosphere needs another one! (Is "blogosphere" the right word to be using here? It doesn't look right to me.)
So, I present to you all: The Memetastic Award! Named as such because these things are memes and its purpose is solely to celebrate the memeness of the award giving process. Let's rejoice in our memeocity by passing this award on to other people! It will be memelicious! Okay, mostly I just want to see what happens, and how far this thing goes. Wouldn't it just be so cool if an actual meme was created from this? Not very likely, but a girl can dream, right? At this point I'm just hoping it makes it past my own blog.
Here are the rules:
1. You must proudly display the absolutely disgusting graphic that I have created for these purposes (put it in your post, you don't have to put it in your sidebar, I think that would seriously be asking too much). It's so bad that not only did I use COMIC SANS, but there's even a little fucking jumping, celebrating kitten down there at the bottom. It's horrifying! But its presence in your award celebration is crucial to the memetastic process we're creating here. If you need a higher resolution version... I totally have one!!
2. You must list 5 things about yourself, and 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make some shit up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you. Except for the 4 that you lied about, you lying bastards! But don't go crazy trying to think of stuff, you'll see by the example I've set below that we're not really interested in quality here.
3. You must pass this award on to 5 bloggers that you either like or don't like or don't really have much of an opinion about. I don't care who you pick, and nobody needs to know why. I mean, you can give a reason if you want, but I don't really care.
4. If you fail to follow any of the above rules, I will fucking hunt your ass down and harass you incessantly until you either block me on Twitter or ban my IP address from visiting your blog. I don't know if you can actually do that last thing, but I will become so annoying to you that you will actually go out and hire an IT professional to train you on how to ban IP addresses just so that I'll leave you alone. I'm serious. I'm going to do these things. Starting with the 5 of you I'm about to pass this award on to.
**NEW** 5. This one isn't actually a rule, but once you do the above, please come back here and link up to the Memetastic Hop so that I can keep track of where this thing goes.
Okay, here I go!!! Are you ready? I'm excited.
5 things about myself, 1 of which is actually true:
1. I almost made it into the Guiness Book of World Records for "Most Rattlesnakes Sat in a Bathtub With" but I freaked out at 81 and ran out of the room. The biggest regret of my life.
2. I once shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
3. I have a weird compulsion about having clean hands. My hands must be clean at all times or I have trouble concentrating on whatever I'm doing.
4. I have a birthmark in the shape of a cherimoya on the back of my right calf.
5. I am a Level 9 Cleric on Dungeons and Dragons
And now I will pass this award on to the following lucky recipients: **
1. Big Daddy, from Big Daddy Autism
2. frazzledmomma, from Living With Logan
3. Dani G, from I'm Just That Way and That's Just Me
4. Jennie B, from Anybody Want a Peanut?
5. tulpen, from Bad Words
** If you are not listed here, please don't be mad at me, it's not because I don't like you, because I do. I like all of you, even those of you I've never met and don't know. I've picked people that I figured would pass it on so you'll likely get it eventually if they all follow the fucking rules. Also I want to watch you all scramble over who gets to list Lynn first. ALSO, I listed tulpsters because she fucking hates things like this and now she has no choice but to go outside her bloggy comfort zone. I know where you live, you know, tulp. Or, at least, I could probably find you with Google maps if I knew your real name.
I've created an award!! You know those blogger awards that go around the blogosphere, I've gotten a few before. It's nice, to get these things, it means that somebody likes you and wants to spread your word. (That actually sounded kind of gross, "spread your word." Please don't spread my word, I like my word the way it should be, the way nature intended, in its original unspread state. But you know what I mean). So, I figured there aren't enough of these things around, at least, I haven't been given one for a few months, surely the blogosphere needs another one! (Is "blogosphere" the right word to be using here? It doesn't look right to me.)
So, I present to you all: The Memetastic Award! Named as such because these things are memes and its purpose is solely to celebrate the memeness of the award giving process. Let's rejoice in our memeocity by passing this award on to other people! It will be memelicious! Okay, mostly I just want to see what happens, and how far this thing goes. Wouldn't it just be so cool if an actual meme was created from this? Not very likely, but a girl can dream, right? At this point I'm just hoping it makes it past my own blog.
Here are the rules:
1. You must proudly display the absolutely disgusting graphic that I have created for these purposes (put it in your post, you don't have to put it in your sidebar, I think that would seriously be asking too much). It's so bad that not only did I use COMIC SANS, but there's even a little fucking jumping, celebrating kitten down there at the bottom. It's horrifying! But its presence in your award celebration is crucial to the memetastic process we're creating here. If you need a higher resolution version... I totally have one!!
2. You must list 5 things about yourself, and 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make some shit up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you. Except for the 4 that you lied about, you lying bastards! But don't go crazy trying to think of stuff, you'll see by the example I've set below that we're not really interested in quality here.
3. You must pass this award on to 5 bloggers that you either like or don't like or don't really have much of an opinion about. I don't care who you pick, and nobody needs to know why. I mean, you can give a reason if you want, but I don't really care.
4. If you fail to follow any of the above rules, I will fucking hunt your ass down and harass you incessantly until you either block me on Twitter or ban my IP address from visiting your blog. I don't know if you can actually do that last thing, but I will become so annoying to you that you will actually go out and hire an IT professional to train you on how to ban IP addresses just so that I'll leave you alone. I'm serious. I'm going to do these things. Starting with the 5 of you I'm about to pass this award on to.
**NEW** 5. This one isn't actually a rule, but once you do the above, please come back here and link up to the Memetastic Hop so that I can keep track of where this thing goes.
Okay, here I go!!! Are you ready? I'm excited.
5 things about myself, 1 of which is actually true:
1. I almost made it into the Guiness Book of World Records for "Most Rattlesnakes Sat in a Bathtub With" but I freaked out at 81 and ran out of the room. The biggest regret of my life.
2. I once shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
3. I have a weird compulsion about having clean hands. My hands must be clean at all times or I have trouble concentrating on whatever I'm doing.
4. I have a birthmark in the shape of a cherimoya on the back of my right calf.
5. I am a Level 9 Cleric on Dungeons and Dragons
And now I will pass this award on to the following lucky recipients: **
1. Big Daddy, from Big Daddy Autism
2. frazzledmomma, from Living With Logan
3. Dani G, from I'm Just That Way and That's Just Me
4. Jennie B, from Anybody Want a Peanut?
5. tulpen, from Bad Words
** If you are not listed here, please don't be mad at me, it's not because I don't like you, because I do. I like all of you, even those of you I've never met and don't know. I've picked people that I figured would pass it on so you'll likely get it eventually if they all follow the fucking rules. Also I want to watch you all scramble over who gets to list Lynn first. ALSO, I listed tulpsters because she fucking hates things like this and now she has no choice but to go outside her bloggy comfort zone. I know where you live, you know, tulp. Or, at least, I could probably find you with Google maps if I knew your real name.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Talk
The Talk: That's when you go in front of your kid's class and explain about autism and how your kid is different but still okay. Have any of you guys done this? I know a lot of people who have and today I did a modified version of it. It was actually a regular "discussion period" the class has, but today the topic was "kids who are different and don't want to play with you when you ask them to." It was the second in a 2 part series, the first one I was informed of after the fact, and my only purpose was to be available for questions if the kids had any. I was not comfortable with the idea of standing in front of all these fucking inquisitive NT kids, explaining what autism is and why my kid doesn't want to play with them when they ask, although I was given the choice. I was actually given the choice to do whatever I wanted, but I chose to sit in the back and listen, and be available for questions.
First of all, I was REALLY uncomfortable with the idea of "let's send Child 1 and his buddy with ADHD out of the room so that we can talk about them." Doesn't that seem weird to you? But, this was their regular speech time, they're always pulled out together on Wednesdays at 2:00, so it wasn't unusual for them to be asked to leave the room. It was unusual to see me standing in the hallway on the way out, but he was cool with it. And the nature of the conversation would have been pretty uncomfortable for them to have been around for, at least for the kid with ADHD. Anyway, I thought it was weird, and it didn't feel right, but I guess there's no other way to do this?
The teacher lead the discussion, and I really like her. She talked about how sometimes kids don't want to play with you when you ask them to, sometimes they want to just do their own thing, and if you want to play with them, what are some things you can do, instead? I was very impressed at how sweet and sensitive all these kids are. They all claimed to have asked him to play at one point, and he said no, and they knew that he would rather draw roads in the wood chips than play tag with them. They said if they wanted to play with him they could ask if they could draw in the wood chips, too. They said that they knew he liked to go on the see-saw and they liked pushing him up and down on it.
I was asked "when I ask him to play and he says no, what should I do?" What an awesome question. I explained that, first and foremost, it doesn't mean that he doesn't like them, it just meant that he wants to do his own thing. I said they could ask again, if they wanted to, or they could just leave him alone and remember that it wasn't personal. They actually had a lot more to say about the other kid who left the room. I know this kid, if there is any kid in the world you could call Child 1's friend, it would be this kid. He's very outgoing, veeeery sweet and has a lot of sensory and impulse control issues. He's more likely to ask to play and be rejected than to be asked. Honestly? I was really glad the things they were saying about him weren't about my kid. Not because it was mean, which it wasn't, it just sounded like his social life is so much more difficult for him to manage. He's so much more in your face than my kid and is a lot more noticeable; you have to make a serious effort to interact with Child 1, you do not need to make any effort whatsoever to interact with this other kid.
Kids can be so mean, but these kids were not. At least not in the presence of the adults in the room. They said "Child 1 is very sweet." They really seemed to want to play with him. I'm so dreading Middle School. I almost started crying at one point, but I held it together. Sigh.
Related, from Special Happens.
First of all, I was REALLY uncomfortable with the idea of "let's send Child 1 and his buddy with ADHD out of the room so that we can talk about them." Doesn't that seem weird to you? But, this was their regular speech time, they're always pulled out together on Wednesdays at 2:00, so it wasn't unusual for them to be asked to leave the room. It was unusual to see me standing in the hallway on the way out, but he was cool with it. And the nature of the conversation would have been pretty uncomfortable for them to have been around for, at least for the kid with ADHD. Anyway, I thought it was weird, and it didn't feel right, but I guess there's no other way to do this?
The teacher lead the discussion, and I really like her. She talked about how sometimes kids don't want to play with you when you ask them to, sometimes they want to just do their own thing, and if you want to play with them, what are some things you can do, instead? I was very impressed at how sweet and sensitive all these kids are. They all claimed to have asked him to play at one point, and he said no, and they knew that he would rather draw roads in the wood chips than play tag with them. They said if they wanted to play with him they could ask if they could draw in the wood chips, too. They said that they knew he liked to go on the see-saw and they liked pushing him up and down on it.
I was asked "when I ask him to play and he says no, what should I do?" What an awesome question. I explained that, first and foremost, it doesn't mean that he doesn't like them, it just meant that he wants to do his own thing. I said they could ask again, if they wanted to, or they could just leave him alone and remember that it wasn't personal. They actually had a lot more to say about the other kid who left the room. I know this kid, if there is any kid in the world you could call Child 1's friend, it would be this kid. He's very outgoing, veeeery sweet and has a lot of sensory and impulse control issues. He's more likely to ask to play and be rejected than to be asked. Honestly? I was really glad the things they were saying about him weren't about my kid. Not because it was mean, which it wasn't, it just sounded like his social life is so much more difficult for him to manage. He's so much more in your face than my kid and is a lot more noticeable; you have to make a serious effort to interact with Child 1, you do not need to make any effort whatsoever to interact with this other kid.
Kids can be so mean, but these kids were not. At least not in the presence of the adults in the room. They said "Child 1 is very sweet." They really seemed to want to play with him. I'm so dreading Middle School. I almost started crying at one point, but I held it together. Sigh.
Related, from Special Happens.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Awwww
Remember how I quit the PTA? There was a meeting last week (that I missed) where they made an announcement or something and officially elected my replacement. And then the PTA prez gave me this card and a box of chocolates because "I want to make sure you're sitting at home eating Bon Bons instead of going to meetings."
Check out this card they gave me. They got all the PTA Exec Board members to sign and then apparently they just started stopping people in the hallway because there are all kinds of names on here; there's more on the other side but I just took the one picture.
My personal favorites are "I guess we can give you a 1 year leave of absense" and "You're not off the hook, you know!"
Those guys are cool.
Check out this card they gave me. They got all the PTA Exec Board members to sign and then apparently they just started stopping people in the hallway because there are all kinds of names on here; there's more on the other side but I just took the one picture.
My personal favorites are "I guess we can give you a 1 year leave of absense" and "You're not off the hook, you know!"
Those guys are cool.
My brain is empty & song of the day
I am currently completely out of ideas for things to write about (although I suppose that's never actually stopped me before). My kids have not provided me with any new material and I figure nobody wants to hear about IRS form 1096 and how it took me 45 fucking minutes to go to the IRS office in Oakland today and get some more, because they don't fucking ACCEPT pdf copies of the form, you have to use the original, and you can only get them directly from the IRS. Fuckers.
So, in that case, please enjoy Make You Feel My Love by Adele, my absolute, without question, #1 favorite female singer of all time. I went looking for Rolling in the Deep and picked this one, instead. Yes, she has replaced Bonnie Raitt as my favorite female singer. Can you believe it?? Yeah, you probably can.
So, in that case, please enjoy Make You Feel My Love by Adele, my absolute, without question, #1 favorite female singer of all time. I went looking for Rolling in the Deep and picked this one, instead. Yes, she has replaced Bonnie Raitt as my favorite female singer. Can you believe it?? Yeah, you probably can.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Blogging for Deeds: Pass it on
 |
| This is Deeds. Yesterday was his 3rd birthday. |
My very good friend frazzledmomma over at Living with Logan, has named every day from now on "Deeds Day."
Go find out why, and please help if you can.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Amazingism
The other day I saw a tweet from my twitter pal @autismfather (aka Stuart Duncan) which said "I propose that we change #Autism to #Amazingism since it describes them better." I couldn't agree more.
So, you may know that hubs has his Mancave, which is the garage that's been converted into a living room of sorts. There's a couch, a weight bench, some dressers and a projector, hooked up to a computer, pointed at a giant screen on the wall. The boys (all 3 of them) like to go in there and watch the myriad of movies that have been burned from DVD and onto the hard drive.
You may also know that Child 1 loves his YouTube videos of elevators and BART trains. He has commandeered my former desktop computer and spends many wonderful hours watching them. Again and again. And again. And then some more.
It wasn't long, however, until he figured out that the computer in the mancave was really just a big, giant YouTube video watching device. And, so, now that's how he spends many wonderful hours.
Amazingism. Or, perhaps, Awesomism?
So, you may know that hubs has his Mancave, which is the garage that's been converted into a living room of sorts. There's a couch, a weight bench, some dressers and a projector, hooked up to a computer, pointed at a giant screen on the wall. The boys (all 3 of them) like to go in there and watch the myriad of movies that have been burned from DVD and onto the hard drive.
You may also know that Child 1 loves his YouTube videos of elevators and BART trains. He has commandeered my former desktop computer and spends many wonderful hours watching them. Again and again. And again. And then some more.
It wasn't long, however, until he figured out that the computer in the mancave was really just a big, giant YouTube video watching device. And, so, now that's how he spends many wonderful hours.
Amazingism. Or, perhaps, Awesomism?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I am neurotic. TRUE STORY.
Back before we had kids, hubs used to point out what he called "The Parking Lot Grab." This is when you're driving in a parking lot, going about 1.25 MPH, and you see a mother suddenly GRAB her child right as you're about to drive by. It's a little offensive from the perspective of the person with no kids driving the car. I mean, seriously, lady, do you think I'm going to just fucking drive my car into your kid unless you snatch him away from me? You could walk faster than I'm driving, how much of a threat am I? AND I'm driving in a straight line, and not directly towards your child. So lighten up, dammit!
Yeah. Then I had my own kids and I learned what this Parking Lot Grab is really all about. (I actually sent my husband a text message the first time I ever did it. "I just did the parking lot grab!!!!!") I'm not necessarily concerned that you're going to drive your car into my kid, but I do know that as long as I have a hand on my child, no harm will come to him.
That's pretty stupid, but it's what neurotic parents think, apparently. I say "apparently" because I'm a neurotic parent and this is what I think. I always have to be holding their hands when we cross the street. Child 1 is going to be fucking 9 years old in a week and a half, he's not a runner, he doesn't need me holding his hand when he crosses the street. I need me holding his hand when he crosses the street, because if I'm not touching him.... what? A car will materialize out of nowhere and hit him? I don't even know what I'm thinking, all I know is that I have to be touching them in some manner until they're safely on the sidewalk again.
Yesterday I was walking home from school with Child 1 and 2 and C2's BFF and every time we crossed a street (there are about 7 crosswalks on our walk home) I, of course, had to be holding their hands, except there were three of them and I only have two hands, so I made two of them hold hands with each other. As if two 5 year olds holding hands are going to be protected from a car materializing out of nowhere? But since I had one of their hands, and that one had the other kid's hands, I guess the line of safety passed through the one kid and onto the next.
I know, I'm a fucking basketcase. But, I tell you these things so that you can laugh with me... not at me. I said WITH, motherfuckers!!
And what the hell do you mean "where the fuck have you been?" I TOLD you January was a busy month for Bookkeepers! Christ.....
Yeah. Then I had my own kids and I learned what this Parking Lot Grab is really all about. (I actually sent my husband a text message the first time I ever did it. "I just did the parking lot grab!!!!!") I'm not necessarily concerned that you're going to drive your car into my kid, but I do know that as long as I have a hand on my child, no harm will come to him.
That's pretty stupid, but it's what neurotic parents think, apparently. I say "apparently" because I'm a neurotic parent and this is what I think. I always have to be holding their hands when we cross the street. Child 1 is going to be fucking 9 years old in a week and a half, he's not a runner, he doesn't need me holding his hand when he crosses the street. I need me holding his hand when he crosses the street, because if I'm not touching him.... what? A car will materialize out of nowhere and hit him? I don't even know what I'm thinking, all I know is that I have to be touching them in some manner until they're safely on the sidewalk again.
Yesterday I was walking home from school with Child 1 and 2 and C2's BFF and every time we crossed a street (there are about 7 crosswalks on our walk home) I, of course, had to be holding their hands, except there were three of them and I only have two hands, so I made two of them hold hands with each other. As if two 5 year olds holding hands are going to be protected from a car materializing out of nowhere? But since I had one of their hands, and that one had the other kid's hands, I guess the line of safety passed through the one kid and onto the next.
I know, I'm a fucking basketcase. But, I tell you these things so that you can laugh with me... not at me. I said WITH, motherfuckers!!
And what the hell do you mean "where the fuck have you been?" I TOLD you January was a busy month for Bookkeepers! Christ.....
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Song of the Day: Ain't Gonna Lose You
Sorry I haven't had much to say lately, but hey, I'm #8 on TMB! So, I figure if I want to keep that up I'd better post something. Also, just so you all know I'm still alive, here is a song in lieu of something original and witty.
If you want to read something original and funny, though, you should go here. Lynn never fails to amuse me.
If you want to read something original and funny, though, you should go here. Lynn never fails to amuse me.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Guest Poster!
Today I am happy to be hosting frazzledmomma, who blogs at Living With Logan and has saved me from having to think of something to write, myself. YAY!!!!
Every mother I have ever honestly spoken with has expressed the concern that she is not doing everything she could/should for her child. To my way of thinking, it's one of those things that comes with motherhood. That insatiable need to be able to take care of every need your child has. As a special needs parent, that desire only grows and presents itself more prominently to me through the course of daily living.
I really thought I had this mothering thing down. You have a baby, and with that comes stages of life. The newborn stage, the infant stage, teething, the creeping, the crawling, the walking, the getting into everything stage. The kindergarten, elementary school, and the rebellious teen stage, followed by the empty nest stage. Supposedly, once your child graduates high school, goes to college and starts a family of their own, there is this wonderful stage wherein your child realizes that you are NOT the complete idiot they once thought you were.
I can't wait to be a grandmother. Can't. Wait. I will feed my little grandmonsters full of sugar and red kool aid, and when they are hyper beyond recognition, I will give the little darlings back to their parents, then sit back and smile as they try to wrestle their child into a fifty point harness car seat. It's payback, and I'm allowed.
But, until that time, I am still the Momma. The piece of the family unit that will always wonder if I am everything my monsters need me to be. The Momma who, in fact, does NOT have this mothering thing down. My feelings on this matter are multifaceted. Am I the mother that all of my children need? Am I the advocate/mother/therapist/nurse that Logan (my toddler with multiple special needs) needs? Am I giving enough time to #6, Logan's twin, so that he never feels left out?
My fears are that I am not enough of any of the above. I do not worry whether I am the monsters' friend. That is not my job. But if someone sat any of my monsters down and asked, “Does your mother love you?” I like to think that every last one of them would answer yes without having to think about it...well.. without having to think about it for more than a few minutes, anyway.
To a certain extent (again, this is just the gospel according to the frazzledmomma), I think that kind of wonder is a healthy part of motherhood. It causes you to reach, to learn and grow with your child(ren) and become “better” because of it. The tricky part for me, however, is how to balance good mothering with common sense, as I tend to be one of those horrid women known as “The Dreaded Helicopter Mom”.
My words of advice? I don't know that I have any. All I can say is, enjoy it. Enjoy every minute, savor your children. Appreciate them as the priceless gifts they are. I don't mean give them everything they want. That would be bad. Very, very bad. Whether your children are neurotypical, have special needs, or you have a combination of both, they are your legacy. What will YOU do with it?
Every mother I have ever honestly spoken with has expressed the concern that she is not doing everything she could/should for her child. To my way of thinking, it's one of those things that comes with motherhood. That insatiable need to be able to take care of every need your child has. As a special needs parent, that desire only grows and presents itself more prominently to me through the course of daily living. I really thought I had this mothering thing down. You have a baby, and with that comes stages of life. The newborn stage, the infant stage, teething, the creeping, the crawling, the walking, the getting into everything stage. The kindergarten, elementary school, and the rebellious teen stage, followed by the empty nest stage. Supposedly, once your child graduates high school, goes to college and starts a family of their own, there is this wonderful stage wherein your child realizes that you are NOT the complete idiot they once thought you were.
I can't wait to be a grandmother. Can't. Wait. I will feed my little grandmonsters full of sugar and red kool aid, and when they are hyper beyond recognition, I will give the little darlings back to their parents, then sit back and smile as they try to wrestle their child into a fifty point harness car seat. It's payback, and I'm allowed.
But, until that time, I am still the Momma. The piece of the family unit that will always wonder if I am everything my monsters need me to be. The Momma who, in fact, does NOT have this mothering thing down. My feelings on this matter are multifaceted. Am I the mother that all of my children need? Am I the advocate/mother/therapist/nurse that Logan (my toddler with multiple special needs) needs? Am I giving enough time to #6, Logan's twin, so that he never feels left out?
My fears are that I am not enough of any of the above. I do not worry whether I am the monsters' friend. That is not my job. But if someone sat any of my monsters down and asked, “Does your mother love you?” I like to think that every last one of them would answer yes without having to think about it...well.. without having to think about it for more than a few minutes, anyway.
To a certain extent (again, this is just the gospel according to the frazzledmomma), I think that kind of wonder is a healthy part of motherhood. It causes you to reach, to learn and grow with your child(ren) and become “better” because of it. The tricky part for me, however, is how to balance good mothering with common sense, as I tend to be one of those horrid women known as “The Dreaded Helicopter Mom”.
My words of advice? I don't know that I have any. All I can say is, enjoy it. Enjoy every minute, savor your children. Appreciate them as the priceless gifts they are. I don't mean give them everything they want. That would be bad. Very, very bad. Whether your children are neurotypical, have special needs, or you have a combination of both, they are your legacy. What will YOU do with it?
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Spotted in Berkeley: Just gettin' some coffee
I was in a Starbucks this morning and the guy in line in front of me had a cat in a cage with him. This isn't necessarily unusual, I mean, maybe he just came from the Vet or something? Except, it's Sunday and Vet offices aren't usually open on Sundays. Plus, from the way he was acting, I think he just takes his cat with him everywhere he goes. He lifted up the cage and showed the baristas and said "and now you get to say hi to him again!"
And then, later, after he had put his soy milk in his coffee, he opened the cage and they had a nice little chat.
And then, later, after he had put his soy milk in his coffee, he opened the cage and they had a nice little chat.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Out of the mouths of babes 21: Magical abilities edition
I don't understand how kids have the power to only hear the bad words you say; autistic and not, across the universe, they all can do it. It's like they have magical abilities. Observe:
Hubs (trying to find an address on his smartphone and inaudibly muttering to himself): mutter mutter mutter mutter... crash my phone ... mutter mutter mutter... flash .... mutter mutter mutter mutter .... renders like absolute crap .... mutter mutter mutter mutter ... finally loading ... mutter mutter mutter ...
Child 2: LIKE ABSOLUTE CRAP?????
Hubs (trying to find an address on his smartphone and inaudibly muttering to himself): mutter mutter mutter mutter... crash my phone ... mutter mutter mutter... flash .... mutter mutter mutter mutter .... renders like absolute crap .... mutter mutter mutter mutter ... finally loading ... mutter mutter mutter ...
Child 2: LIKE ABSOLUTE CRAP?????
Did you know they learn about earthquakes in 3rd grade?
And I would like to use my blog, this public forum, to give a big, hearty shout-out to the person who wrote the 3rd grade standards and came up with this idea. Really. I mean that. Thanks. Thanks so much.
Because there's nothing an autistic child, who craves stability and predictability, likes more than the idea of a sudden, unpredictable, massive event that would shake the earth and everything around him.
(Just as I'm typing this, I see a tweet from a friend who lives just south of me that says "EARTHQUAKE." Are you shitting me? There was actually an earthquake in the near vicinity while I'm fucking blogging about earthquakes? What are the odds? I didn't feel it. Hubs felt it in SF, though)
In the car yesterday after school:
Child 1: Will there be an earthquake today?
Me: Oh, fuck. Um.... I don't know, I don't think so, I hope not. Why do you ask?
Child 1: And what is an earthquake, again?
Me: That's when the earth shakes all around you. And is really fucking scary. And things will come crashing down around your head. And people could die. And the next one that happens around here will be so serious that we have food stored in a shed in our backyard just in case our house falls down.
Child 1: And will we have to leave the city?
Me: Leave the city?? Why would... wait, did they say in your class that you might have to leave the city?
Child 1: yes they did.
Me: No, if there's an earthquake we will not have to leave the city. We can stay in Berkeley where we live.
So, thanks People Who Write Standards. Now my autistic child, who has a really hard time with sudden, unexplained things happening, is now worried about earthquakes. And what do you say when your child asks if there's going to be an earthquake today? Which he does? Now? Apparently all the time? What can you say, because nobody knows the answer. There was a fucking earthquake as I was writing this thing! I have no idea how I'm going to handle this one. Fucking earthquakes.
But, hey! On the plus side, he's learning stuff in class, right? Yeah.
Because there's nothing an autistic child, who craves stability and predictability, likes more than the idea of a sudden, unpredictable, massive event that would shake the earth and everything around him.
(Just as I'm typing this, I see a tweet from a friend who lives just south of me that says "EARTHQUAKE." Are you shitting me? There was actually an earthquake in the near vicinity while I'm fucking blogging about earthquakes? What are the odds? I didn't feel it. Hubs felt it in SF, though)
In the car yesterday after school:
Child 1: Will there be an earthquake today?
Me: Oh, fuck. Um.... I don't know, I don't think so, I hope not. Why do you ask?
Child 1: And what is an earthquake, again?
Me: That's when the earth shakes all around you. And is really fucking scary. And things will come crashing down around your head. And people could die. And the next one that happens around here will be so serious that we have food stored in a shed in our backyard just in case our house falls down.
Child 1: And will we have to leave the city?
Me: Leave the city?? Why would... wait, did they say in your class that you might have to leave the city?
Child 1: yes they did.
Me: No, if there's an earthquake we will not have to leave the city. We can stay in Berkeley where we live.
So, thanks People Who Write Standards. Now my autistic child, who has a really hard time with sudden, unexplained things happening, is now worried about earthquakes. And what do you say when your child asks if there's going to be an earthquake today? Which he does? Now? Apparently all the time? What can you say, because nobody knows the answer. There was a fucking earthquake as I was writing this thing! I have no idea how I'm going to handle this one. Fucking earthquakes.
But, hey! On the plus side, he's learning stuff in class, right? Yeah.
Friday, January 7, 2011
He's like a mini George Costanza with hair
Child 2 is the funniest person I’ve ever met. He’s only 5, and these things just come out of his mouth that are so beyond his years and it's so funny. He has no idea how funny he is.
Example 1: The horn on my car is broken. It used to make this mighty HOOOOOOOOOOOONK when I pushed it, but now it’s just a lame little “blup.” It’s really sad. This morning I was taking the boys to school and when I lock my car with my key chain dealie, it honks the horn to let me know it worked. So, it went “blup” (sad face ☹) and I said “oh, man, that’s pathetic.” Naturally Child 2 asks “what does pathetic mean?” because this kid is incapable of hearing anybody say anything without asking a question about it. I would find it annoying if he wasn’t so goddamn adorable. Also: I find it annoying. So, I explain what pathetic means and I show him what a “pathetic” face looks like. Then he wants to know what the opposite of pathetic means, and we make some “opposite of pathetic” faces. Then, we’re going into the school and he says “I just farted into the bottom of my backpack! THAT’S the opposite of pathetic! OOHHHHH YEEAAHHHHHHHH!”
Example 2: He has this crazy co-dependent relationship with one of our cats; he’s always chasing her around the house with a shoe or a piece of paper or a blanket or something, but for some reason she’s always coming back for more. I guess she needs to be abused, and he really needs to abuse her. Sometimes, though, she fights back, using the only tools she has: her claws. The other day the usual was happening and she scratched him. Then he looks at me, arms and hands out to the side in horror, and he says “and now she scratches me!” I swear to god, it was like fucking George Costanza (I tried to find a video of George doing that hands to the sides/in the air thing but I couldn't find one. Hopefully you just know what I'm talking about) and I started laughing my ass off. This was not the correct thing to do at that particular moment, I can assure you, because he got very mad at me. He started crying and screaming and wailing and hitting, and, I’m so sorry, but I shit you not, I still couldn’t stop laughing. It. Was. So. Funny. I tried to explain, between hiccups of laughter, that I wasn’t laughing AT him, I was laughing because he was awesome. He totally didn’t buy it, of course. I had to put my hand over my mouth while he inspected my face to make sure I was no longer laughing before he forgave me. Good thing he’s only 5 because he bought that. Phew.
I've learned my lesson, though, and I've started preparing myself now that I know the repercussions of my laughter. So, just now, when he got scratched for putting his toy cars on the cat's head, and he said "I hate that cat! The next time you see her, tell her I hate her!" I did not laugh. Not once. Not once that he saw, anyway.
UPDATE: He just overhead me telling hubs that my method for getting to #9 at Top Mommy Blogs is called "Blog Whoring." Shit.
 |
| "Charlie is the captain of fur!" |
Example 1: The horn on my car is broken. It used to make this mighty HOOOOOOOOOOOONK when I pushed it, but now it’s just a lame little “blup.” It’s really sad. This morning I was taking the boys to school and when I lock my car with my key chain dealie, it honks the horn to let me know it worked. So, it went “blup” (sad face ☹) and I said “oh, man, that’s pathetic.” Naturally Child 2 asks “what does pathetic mean?” because this kid is incapable of hearing anybody say anything without asking a question about it. I would find it annoying if he wasn’t so goddamn adorable. Also: I find it annoying. So, I explain what pathetic means and I show him what a “pathetic” face looks like. Then he wants to know what the opposite of pathetic means, and we make some “opposite of pathetic” faces. Then, we’re going into the school and he says “I just farted into the bottom of my backpack! THAT’S the opposite of pathetic! OOHHHHH YEEAAHHHHHHHH!”
Example 2: He has this crazy co-dependent relationship with one of our cats; he’s always chasing her around the house with a shoe or a piece of paper or a blanket or something, but for some reason she’s always coming back for more. I guess she needs to be abused, and he really needs to abuse her. Sometimes, though, she fights back, using the only tools she has: her claws. The other day the usual was happening and she scratched him. Then he looks at me, arms and hands out to the side in horror, and he says “and now she scratches me!” I swear to god, it was like fucking George Costanza (I tried to find a video of George doing that hands to the sides/in the air thing but I couldn't find one. Hopefully you just know what I'm talking about) and I started laughing my ass off. This was not the correct thing to do at that particular moment, I can assure you, because he got very mad at me. He started crying and screaming and wailing and hitting, and, I’m so sorry, but I shit you not, I still couldn’t stop laughing. It. Was. So. Funny. I tried to explain, between hiccups of laughter, that I wasn’t laughing AT him, I was laughing because he was awesome. He totally didn’t buy it, of course. I had to put my hand over my mouth while he inspected my face to make sure I was no longer laughing before he forgave me. Good thing he’s only 5 because he bought that. Phew.
I've learned my lesson, though, and I've started preparing myself now that I know the repercussions of my laughter. So, just now, when he got scratched for putting his toy cars on the cat's head, and he said "I hate that cat! The next time you see her, tell her I hate her!" I did not laugh. Not once. Not once that he saw, anyway.
UPDATE: He just overhead me telling hubs that my method for getting to #9 at Top Mommy Blogs is called "Blog Whoring." Shit.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My brother
Today would have been my brother's 43rd birthday; he died of cancer on April 3, 2003. I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell you guys a little bit about him.
My brother was one of those people who was too good for this world. I know, it's weird, because there really aren't very many people like that, but he was one of them. His entire life was marked by good luck and fortune. Prom King, Homecoming King, Most Likely To Succeed, Most All Around... I'm not exaggerating, he was voted all of those things in high school. He was the most popular person who ever lived. He knew everybody at every school in our little section of the San Fernando Valley, and he was loved and adored by all of them; hundreds of friends, hundreds of admirers and people who had just heard "of" him. He was famous.
I fucking hated him. I did. I was 3 years younger and I spend my entire childhood living in his shadow. Starting from when I was in 7th grade, I was no longer Jill, I was "David's little sister." I had no identity of my own, until I left LA for college in Santa Barbara. It was actually weird to have people call me by my name, or to ask how I was instead of how he was.
I went years barely speaking to him. I wasn't interested in his perfect life or what he was up to with his perfect friends and perfect everything that he had. I never called him, I only knew what he was up to because my parents would tell me. Except, we saw each other on holidays, and every time I was reminded of how great he was. Really, he wasn't that popular by accident, it was because he was a good guy. Funny as hell, with that kind of sarcasm that a lot of people just don't get. Super smart, good looking, charming and just really, really nice. I was torn, because he was really awesome, and there I was, hating him.
But, I got older, I grew up some (let's not go nuts), I gained perspective. I moved to the Bay Area where he was living, too, and we started talking and seeing each other more. In the meantime, he was busy getting insanely rich by being really smart during the tech boom of the 1990s; I actually did his books for a while. I was working in San Francisco where he lived, so we had lunch every few months or so. We actually became friends; it was cool, really, since he was still such a great guy, and who doesn't want to be friends with a great guy, right? We never got really close, though; I just didn't want to and I think he understood that.
He was diagnosed with Melanoma in 1996. The next 7 years were spent with countless doctors, clinical trials, CAT scans, PET scans, drugs, hospitalizations, even a trip to China for a controversial treatment. It spread to his brain, anyway. The last 6 weeks of his life were spent in the hospital where he eventually got sepsis. We got close at the end, I was at the hospital every day. I was in his ICU room with his wife and his best friend when he died. He was 35.
I don't know, was he too good for this world? Did the star shine too brightly and was destined to burn out too soon? 8 years later and I've stopped asking why; that's just life, I guess and I can't continue to rail against the unfairness of it all. I'm mostly sad that he never got to know my kids, he definitely would have liked them; autism and all.
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| I was probably 2 here, and he was 5. I still do that thing with my mouth, by the way. |
My brother was one of those people who was too good for this world. I know, it's weird, because there really aren't very many people like that, but he was one of them. His entire life was marked by good luck and fortune. Prom King, Homecoming King, Most Likely To Succeed, Most All Around... I'm not exaggerating, he was voted all of those things in high school. He was the most popular person who ever lived. He knew everybody at every school in our little section of the San Fernando Valley, and he was loved and adored by all of them; hundreds of friends, hundreds of admirers and people who had just heard "of" him. He was famous.
I fucking hated him. I did. I was 3 years younger and I spend my entire childhood living in his shadow. Starting from when I was in 7th grade, I was no longer Jill, I was "David's little sister." I had no identity of my own, until I left LA for college in Santa Barbara. It was actually weird to have people call me by my name, or to ask how I was instead of how he was.
 |
| I don't know when this was taken, I found it on Facebook |
I went years barely speaking to him. I wasn't interested in his perfect life or what he was up to with his perfect friends and perfect everything that he had. I never called him, I only knew what he was up to because my parents would tell me. Except, we saw each other on holidays, and every time I was reminded of how great he was. Really, he wasn't that popular by accident, it was because he was a good guy. Funny as hell, with that kind of sarcasm that a lot of people just don't get. Super smart, good looking, charming and just really, really nice. I was torn, because he was really awesome, and there I was, hating him.
But, I got older, I grew up some (let's not go nuts), I gained perspective. I moved to the Bay Area where he was living, too, and we started talking and seeing each other more. In the meantime, he was busy getting insanely rich by being really smart during the tech boom of the 1990s; I actually did his books for a while. I was working in San Francisco where he lived, so we had lunch every few months or so. We actually became friends; it was cool, really, since he was still such a great guy, and who doesn't want to be friends with a great guy, right? We never got really close, though; I just didn't want to and I think he understood that.
 |
| He never had kids of his own. I think Child 1 was the first baby he'd ever held. Badly, as you can see |
He was diagnosed with Melanoma in 1996. The next 7 years were spent with countless doctors, clinical trials, CAT scans, PET scans, drugs, hospitalizations, even a trip to China for a controversial treatment. It spread to his brain, anyway. The last 6 weeks of his life were spent in the hospital where he eventually got sepsis. We got close at the end, I was at the hospital every day. I was in his ICU room with his wife and his best friend when he died. He was 35.
I don't know, was he too good for this world? Did the star shine too brightly and was destined to burn out too soon? 8 years later and I've stopped asking why; that's just life, I guess and I can't continue to rail against the unfairness of it all. I'm mostly sad that he never got to know my kids, he definitely would have liked them; autism and all.
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| This is my absolute favorite picture. Look at that look of intense concentration. Classic! |
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Have you hugged a Bookkeeper today?
January is a very busy month for us Bookkeepers. The end of every quarter is always busy, but the end of the year is even worse. We have so much work to do to close out the year, all these damn tax forms and filings and shit, deadlines and everything: it's brutal!
So, if you're walking down the street and you see a crazed looking person typing furiously into their smartphone, mumbling something about "Form 1096.... AND the DE 7???" .... with adding machine tape stuck to the bottom of their shoe..... please, be nice to them. At least until February 1st.
So, if you're walking down the street and you see a crazed looking person typing furiously into their smartphone, mumbling something about "Form 1096.... AND the DE 7???" .... with adding machine tape stuck to the bottom of their shoe..... please, be nice to them. At least until February 1st.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I still laugh at the fact that somebody let me be a parent
This afternoon the boys and I were getting home from school. We're climbing out of the car and, as usual, I'm yelling at them about something or other. I'm saying "Child 2, don't forget your backpack!" as he's walking up the stairs to the front door, empty handed.
"Go back to the car and get your backpack!" I insist.
"NO!" he answers, "YOU get it."
I say "seriously?" Because, I mean... seriously? Do you enjoy your freedom, child? Because I have a roll of duct tape and I'm not afraid to use it. "Seriously," he says. "You have my backpack."
Yeah, I was holding it; it was in my hands. I had carried it into the house, all on my own, and I didn't even realize it.
I'm sure there's a picture or something I could put here as a symbol of my parental greatness, but I don't feel like looking for one.
"Go back to the car and get your backpack!" I insist.
"NO!" he answers, "YOU get it."
I say "seriously?" Because, I mean... seriously? Do you enjoy your freedom, child? Because I have a roll of duct tape and I'm not afraid to use it. "Seriously," he says. "You have my backpack."
Yeah, I was holding it; it was in my hands. I had carried it into the house, all on my own, and I didn't even realize it.
I'm sure there's a picture or something I could put here as a symbol of my parental greatness, but I don't feel like looking for one.
The Dive Bar Welcomes: She Who Must Not Be Named
She actually asked to be called "She Who Shall Remain Nameless" but we both liked the Harry Potter reference better. However, now that I'm looking at it, it kind of seems like this is some bad person we don't like, but no.... we do like her! This is somebody we like! So don't get the wrong idea! She just wanted to be anonymous but with a more clever title.
I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I really don’t. My kid, the brilliant, sweet, wonderful, “you’d never know anything was wrong with him” kid can’t stop stimming. So what, right? What’s so bad about stimming? Everyone does it all the time to some degree or another, it’s just that there are some stims that NTs are okay with and some they aren’t. Yeah, it’s all those rotten NTs making it awful and wrong to stim.
I’ve read forum after forum making that case, and they’ve got a point, right? I mean if we’re talking about humming, pacing, flapping, leg bouncing or whatever, there really is no big deal. Then if it’s more “socially awkward” like masturbating or something, ok teach them not to do it in public, but if they’re doing it in private, then what’s the problem? Here’s the thing, though. No one ever talks about the stims that put the child’s health at risk. No one ever talks about those. I get it. Shit, I had to come here to do it. My kid deserves his privacy, so I’m not gonna put this all out there for everyone that knows us to read. So thanks, Jill, for creating this space to be anonymous.
Here’s why we need to change this stim. My kid plays with his shit. Christ I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true. He says it’s not about the shit per se, he just doesn’t care if he happens to shit while stimming. The stim? He sits on the toilet, plays with and splashes water on his asshole. WHAT THE FUCK?! I mean, I know it’s sensory and all that, but still…
I’m pretty sure this started because he was never actually potty trained. Up till the ripe old age of 9 years old he was still crapping his pants on a near daily basis. Yeah, now that I’m thinking about it, this is probably all my fault. Nice… So he wasn’t potty trained, and I put him on a schedule of when he had to go sit on the pot, and encouraged him to relax and read while he was in there. It wasn’t too long after that, that he stopped having accidents. It took about 6 months for us to discover what he was doing, and another 6 or so to get all the details.
To date, I believe I’ve handled it well. I haven’t freaked out or anything. I’ve emphasized that people touch themselves all the time in all kinds of places. It’s perfectly normal, and I’m not upset about him touching himself. And that’s the truth, I couldn’t care less about him touching himself in the bathroom. What.fucking.ever is what I say. But he can’t play with his shit, or the shitty water. He can’t get it all over his hands and then come back into the house touching things, and eating, and BITING.HIS.NAILS. Yes, we make him wash REALLY FUCKING WELL, but still. EWWWW Ok, so you get it now, right? He can’t keep this stim. It has to change. Not because I’m a prude, but because this is an actual, bonafide hygiene issue.
We’ve tried everything, and nothing works. Finally, a couple of weeks ago we locked him out of his bathroom. It wasn’t out of anger, or done rashly. It was a calm discussion, that we needed to find a suitable stim replacement, and this was going to have to be the first step for a while. For a few days he didn’t stim, and he and I began collaborating on other possible stims to replace this one. We hit on the shower. He could do this with the water in the shower. I thought it was a perfect solution. He gets to stim, with the water (which is apparently a necessary part of the process), but we keep the shit out of the equation. After another day or two, he told me he thought this could work. There was just one tiny problem. He can’t shower multiple times per day, and apparently he must stim multiple times per day.
I see now that it was inevitable that we’d arrive back where we are today, because I just don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t want to fuck him up mentally or make him all screwy, but this has to stop. Then tonight when we try to talk about it he breaks down and says, “Mom, I have to do it. You don’t understand.” OUCH! I actually do understand. I get the compulsion of it. I can see it on him, when he runs down the hall headed to a “stim session.” I’ve been addicted. I know about compulsion. I know he has to do it, but the shit part has to stop!
I feel stuck, deep down in a pit, like I did when he was raging at me almost constantly. I feel tired, sad, and stuck, and I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I’m open to suggestions, so please speak up, because at this point I just feel like giving up.
I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I really don’t. My kid, the brilliant, sweet, wonderful, “you’d never know anything was wrong with him” kid can’t stop stimming. So what, right? What’s so bad about stimming? Everyone does it all the time to some degree or another, it’s just that there are some stims that NTs are okay with and some they aren’t. Yeah, it’s all those rotten NTs making it awful and wrong to stim.
I’ve read forum after forum making that case, and they’ve got a point, right? I mean if we’re talking about humming, pacing, flapping, leg bouncing or whatever, there really is no big deal. Then if it’s more “socially awkward” like masturbating or something, ok teach them not to do it in public, but if they’re doing it in private, then what’s the problem? Here’s the thing, though. No one ever talks about the stims that put the child’s health at risk. No one ever talks about those. I get it. Shit, I had to come here to do it. My kid deserves his privacy, so I’m not gonna put this all out there for everyone that knows us to read. So thanks, Jill, for creating this space to be anonymous.
Here’s why we need to change this stim. My kid plays with his shit. Christ I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true. He says it’s not about the shit per se, he just doesn’t care if he happens to shit while stimming. The stim? He sits on the toilet, plays with and splashes water on his asshole. WHAT THE FUCK?! I mean, I know it’s sensory and all that, but still…
I’m pretty sure this started because he was never actually potty trained. Up till the ripe old age of 9 years old he was still crapping his pants on a near daily basis. Yeah, now that I’m thinking about it, this is probably all my fault. Nice… So he wasn’t potty trained, and I put him on a schedule of when he had to go sit on the pot, and encouraged him to relax and read while he was in there. It wasn’t too long after that, that he stopped having accidents. It took about 6 months for us to discover what he was doing, and another 6 or so to get all the details.
To date, I believe I’ve handled it well. I haven’t freaked out or anything. I’ve emphasized that people touch themselves all the time in all kinds of places. It’s perfectly normal, and I’m not upset about him touching himself. And that’s the truth, I couldn’t care less about him touching himself in the bathroom. What.fucking.ever is what I say. But he can’t play with his shit, or the shitty water. He can’t get it all over his hands and then come back into the house touching things, and eating, and BITING.HIS.NAILS. Yes, we make him wash REALLY FUCKING WELL, but still. EWWWW Ok, so you get it now, right? He can’t keep this stim. It has to change. Not because I’m a prude, but because this is an actual, bonafide hygiene issue.
We’ve tried everything, and nothing works. Finally, a couple of weeks ago we locked him out of his bathroom. It wasn’t out of anger, or done rashly. It was a calm discussion, that we needed to find a suitable stim replacement, and this was going to have to be the first step for a while. For a few days he didn’t stim, and he and I began collaborating on other possible stims to replace this one. We hit on the shower. He could do this with the water in the shower. I thought it was a perfect solution. He gets to stim, with the water (which is apparently a necessary part of the process), but we keep the shit out of the equation. After another day or two, he told me he thought this could work. There was just one tiny problem. He can’t shower multiple times per day, and apparently he must stim multiple times per day.
I see now that it was inevitable that we’d arrive back where we are today, because I just don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t want to fuck him up mentally or make him all screwy, but this has to stop. Then tonight when we try to talk about it he breaks down and says, “Mom, I have to do it. You don’t understand.” OUCH! I actually do understand. I get the compulsion of it. I can see it on him, when he runs down the hall headed to a “stim session.” I’ve been addicted. I know about compulsion. I know he has to do it, but the shit part has to stop!
I feel stuck, deep down in a pit, like I did when he was raging at me almost constantly. I feel tired, sad, and stuck, and I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I’m open to suggestions, so please speak up, because at this point I just feel like giving up.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Awesomeness, written down
I'm cleaning today! Yeah, it's a new year.... it's a new day... it's a new LIIIIIIIIIFE. Oh, sorry, that fucking Jennifer Hudson Weight Watchers commercial has been playing constantly on the Food Channel and it's stuck in my head. So, I'm cleaning today, and I ran across this piece of paper. I had once written this up in a Facebook note so I'm just copying and pasting from over there, but still... the awesomeness.... it's so awesome..... This was from May so Child 1 had just turned 8 and Child 2 was not yet 5. I've removed everybody's actual name so some of it might seem confusing
Our wonderful fabulous babysitter had the kids answer some questions for mother's day, from a thingy she downloaded online, and the results were so awesome that they must be shared immediately.
List 3 of your Mom's favorite places to go:
CHILD 1:
1. BART
2. Costco
3. McDonalds
CHILD 2:
1. Works
2. Meetings
3. Rocking ("Rocking" means playing Rock Band)
List 5 special people you would invite to celebrate with your mom:
CHILD 1
1. Uncle
2. Babysitter
3. Friend
4. Daddy
5. Child 2
CHILD 2:
1. New York
2. Daddy
3. Me
4. Child 1
5. Uncle
If you were in charge of cooking for your mom for a day, what would those 3 favorite meals be?
CHILD 1:
1. Cake
2. Banana, apple
3. Pumpkin seeeeeeeeeeeedsaaaaa
CHILD 2:
1. Mac and cheese
2. Casserole
3. Chicken nuggets
List 3 chores you would do to help your mom:
CHILD 1
1. Bake food
2. Wash clothes
3. Fix her machine that washes clothes before it make a volcano explode
CHILD 2
1. Help her remember stuff
2. Kill the bad stuff that makes her sick
3. Help her get hugs
What is your Mom's favorite thing to do?
CHILD 1: Bake food
CHILD 2: Rocking and she really likes cooking and rocking
Unfortunately side 2 of the paper didn't print for Child 1's version so the following are all just Child 2's answers
5 Words to describe my mother are:
1. Funny
2. Impressed and happy when she sees shoes
3. Tall
4. Cats
5. Games
4 Things my Mom does best are:
1. Knock cans over by accident
2. Open a chicken box
3. Play games with me
4. Show me how to turn knobs the right way
My mom really likes it when:
She gets medicine and I ride my scooter fast but she doesn't like it when I fall
2 things I want to tell my mom are:
1. She needs a break
2. She needs to go to sleep
Our wonderful fabulous babysitter had the kids answer some questions for mother's day, from a thingy she downloaded online, and the results were so awesome that they must be shared immediately.
List 3 of your Mom's favorite places to go:
CHILD 1:
1. BART
2. Costco
3. McDonalds
CHILD 2:
1. Works
2. Meetings
3. Rocking ("Rocking" means playing Rock Band)
List 5 special people you would invite to celebrate with your mom:
CHILD 1
1. Uncle
2. Babysitter
3. Friend
4. Daddy
5. Child 2
CHILD 2:
1. New York
2. Daddy
3. Me
4. Child 1
5. Uncle
If you were in charge of cooking for your mom for a day, what would those 3 favorite meals be?
CHILD 1:
1. Cake
2. Banana, apple
3. Pumpkin seeeeeeeeeeeedsaaaaa
CHILD 2:
1. Mac and cheese
2. Casserole
3. Chicken nuggets
List 3 chores you would do to help your mom:
CHILD 1
1. Bake food
2. Wash clothes
3. Fix her machine that washes clothes before it make a volcano explode
CHILD 2
1. Help her remember stuff
2. Kill the bad stuff that makes her sick
3. Help her get hugs
What is your Mom's favorite thing to do?
CHILD 1: Bake food
CHILD 2: Rocking and she really likes cooking and rocking
Unfortunately side 2 of the paper didn't print for Child 1's version so the following are all just Child 2's answers
5 Words to describe my mother are:
1. Funny
2. Impressed and happy when she sees shoes
3. Tall
4. Cats
5. Games
4 Things my Mom does best are:
1. Knock cans over by accident
2. Open a chicken box
3. Play games with me
4. Show me how to turn knobs the right way
My mom really likes it when:
She gets medicine and I ride my scooter fast but she doesn't like it when I fall
2 things I want to tell my mom are:
1. She needs a break
2. She needs to go to sleep
Saturday, January 1, 2011
So, while I'm out of town...
I'm not trying to catch up to Kris or Tina or anything, I'd just like to get onto the front page. I'm only 10 votes behind so just a couple of days of a bunch of you coming here and clicking should do the trick! I know, it's REALLY pathetic, but it's all I want for Christmas. That, and a shitload of money; so do that one, too, if you don't mind....
Update: Now I'm gunning for top 10! Only about 15 votes short. Let's make it happen, people!!!! Pretend I'm still out of town!
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