Before I unload, cyberly-speaking, could I get a bourbon and scotch, on the rocks, with a tequila shooter? Thanks.
I have a mother-in-law. You know the kind. You might even have one. If you don't, consider taking mine. For the sake of my small nugget of a daughter, who adores her, I refrain from poking her in the face with a number two pencil.
For the decade that I've known my outlaw, she has always been self-centered. I knew bearing the first grandchild wouldn't diminish the fine lines and wrinkles of her overbearing personality, but the ruckus she stirred up over Lighting it up Blue last week, has left my mind reeling to piece back the remaining bits of the mental tornado aftermath she left in her wake.
[brief rewind]
My little one has Asperger's. From the time I brought her home from the hospital, there were the following issues:
"Don't hold me. I'm going to scream and never stop. Don't laugh or talk in my presence. It's too loud and hurts my ears. Oh, no coughing either. You're kidding me, right? You actually considered using a vacuum? That will set me off for days. Did I mention, don't hold me? Oh, and my screaming has two volumes. Loud and never-ending. You want to change my routine? Please see the previous sentences involving screaming. Sometimes I will scream for hours at a time and you won't know why." These issues continued. And new ones cropped up. And it got worse.
After months of reading and researching, I realized this was bigger than anything I could handle on my own. We started some early interventions I and was pretty convinced we were dealing with Asperger's, though we didn't get a formal diagnosis until few months later. This was something I broached with my outlaw. Although I don't agree with her on most everything, I believed our mutual affinity for this cute nugget of cuteness, might shift the focus onto something meaningful. I was met with a response that floored me. It shouldn't have, but it did.
My outlaw has been a nurse all her life and raised her own brood, as she pointed out to me. She'd seen it all and there was nothing wrong with my girl. In her experience, there were kids in far worse predicaments. As her mother, I just hadn't exposed her to enough and was being too hard on myself.
OH MY Guh! I didn't know being a nurse (in a completely unrelated field), by default, makes you an Autism expert. It's been months since my girl's diagnosis and I've long since given up on getting any kind of apology.
[abrupt fast forward to the point of our story]
I invited family and friends to take part in Lighting it up Blue. Key word "invite". With love and open arms. My outlaw, on the other hand, chose to strong-arm family and friends with inaccurate information about Autism (as a side note, she purposely misspells Asperger's because she doesn't like the name) and accusations about their lack of knowledge and support. Just short of beating them black and "blue" if they didn't participate. This went on for days! I was completely embarrassed for and by her. She certainly doesn't speak for me and I can only hope that her family, who has known her longer than I, is aware of this. She has used this opportunity to wear Autism as some personal badge of valor. I don't know that I will ever be able to let this go.
Fuck. I got through all of that without saying fuck. But that drink I got at the beginning of this is making me throw expletives to the wind. Fuckity fucker fuckington.
[pointless drivel]
So now, do I:
A) Continue to live like this never happened and continue my path of passive aggressive communication?
B) Carefront her?
C) Sharpen that pencil?
