I have no time for passive aggressive bullshit

Oh my god it makes me crazy.

YOU know what I mean. The person who says cryptic things; possibly talking about you but definitely not to you? I. CAN'T. FUCKING. STAND. IT.

If somebody has something to say to me? Just fucking say it. Don't go behind my back and talk shit, don't stop talking to me because you're a big baby and you're afraid to speak up... just say it. Or fuck off! I have no time for this shit!  I've got all kinds of shit going on my life, both online and not, and don't have the time (and I definitely don't have the interest) to sit there and try to figure you out. "OMG. Did I say something wrong? What's going on? Are they talking about me? Are they mad at me?" I no longer care.

Now, before anybody accuses me of being a hypocrite by posting this seemingly passive aggressive post of my own, let me just tell each and every one of you right now that if I have a problem with you? You are going to know know about it. I should actually amend that previous statement to say that "if I have a problem with you and I care about your opinion...." In the last few weeks people have been coming to me with links to blog posts and they say shit like "Is she talking about you???" Well I have no fucking clue if somebody is talking about me, unless they use my name, so my answer is always "no." Because how the fuck am I supposed to know? And since I don't know, my answer is NO. They are not talking about me. Somebody else must have gotten their panties in a twist, but it wasn't me. So, I assure you that this post is not actually passive aggressively (passively aggressive?) directed toward any one (or two or three or four) person in particular.

I just wanted to make a general statement, one that I've made before, in fact; about 2 1/2 years go. If you've got something to say to me? Just say it. Otherwise? Fuck off.

Look! Here's how you can reach me and tell me whatever your problem is with me. How exciting!!!! jillsmo@gmail.com

P.S. Despite me having said that this post isn't about anybody in particular, if you still don't believe me? ASK ME. I'll bet you $500 the answer will be no.

P.P.S. I don't actually have $500 so you should probably take that bet, because I might have to owe you.

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Fuck you, cancer

We have this area in our house that has a very long section of floor; you can see by the picture, which I took just now, that today the space is used to spread out a really long piece of easel paper, and said paper is then used to draw elaborate BART tracks or elevator schematics. When Child 1 was a pre-walking baby, this space was used for him to crawl back and forth, or push his cart back and forth. Eventually, and also today, this space was used for him to run back and forth.

My brother died in April 2003, he was 35; in 5 months it will have been 10 years. One day when Child 1 was a baby he was at my house, sitting on the couch that would have been just off to the top left of that picture. Watching Child 1 crawl back and forth in that space I remember him commenting "wow, he really likes to go back and forth back there," or something like that; I don't remember the specifics. It didn't make an impact at the time but I guess it stuck in my mind, for some reason.

This was before our diagnosis, before Child 1 even had a speech delay; he was 15 months when my brother died. We had no idea, at the time, that this space would become significant in later years; when he would spend hours running back and forth in this space, this roomy space on the other side of the couch. Where he can now spread out his very long piece of easel paper and draw his most favorite things. There was nothing significant about his comment of my brother's, at the time.

Today, though, I will sometimes watch Child 1 flap his hands, jump up and down and run back and forth in this space, and my memory of that day is sparked. I remember what my brother said about that space behind the couch and I get angry; so very very fucking angry. My brother, who took notice of the significance of this back and forth space before any of the rest of us did: he's supposed to be here now. He was supposed to have been here when Child 1 started walking, when he was diagnosed, when he went through his home program, when his brother was born, when his brother started walking, when they both went off to school..... He was supposed to be here for this. He's supposed to be here now. He's supposed to know his nephews, to be the awesome Uncle who gives them treats and teaches them tricks that I disapprove of, who they want to hang out with when they have a day off. He was supposed to be here for them. They're supposed to know him.

He would have kids of his own now; I would have my own nephews or nieces. My kids would have these cousins, they would have their play house in San Francisco with all the toys and the games and the piano. This is what was supposed to have happened. But cancer had other plans for us, apparently. And almost 10 years later I still get so angry about it. So fucking angry.

This isn't how it was supposed to be.

It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

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Pointing out some absurdities (NSFW)

So, the post I wrote the other day about Jenny McCarthy? I know, right??? You guys have been awesome in your support and your encouragement, thank you!! If you know me at all, or have read, um... anything I've written..... you should know that I have no problem with respectful disagreement and discussion. In fact, I welcome it! Please, feel free to disagree with me about an opinion of mine, just as long as 1. you do it with respect and you 2. don't pussy out behind "Anonymous," because that will just piss me off.

Anyway, there have been a few things said about the post that didn't make it into the comments section here, one because they were in an email and the other because somebody pussied out behind "Anonymous" and pissed me off so I deleted it. (That's actually the first time I've ever deleted a comment here. Intentionally, anyway.)

See, if you had read what I wrote, you would have noticed that my issue with Jenny McCarthy isn't her anti-vaccine crusade and it isn't with her Playboy modeling, it's with her judgmentally superior attitude about how she's "the best" autism parent, and anybody who chose a different path is inferior. That's what I take issue with, and I've said it again and again, but I'll say it once more: my point is that we're all just parents doing the best we can. Just because my experience is different than yours doesn't mean mine is better; it's just different. And that's the piece that Jenny got wrong, in my opinion, and is the piece that I wrote about.

Well it turns out that Jenny's fans tend to be just as morally superior in their support of her. I KNOW, RIGHT???? I did not see that coming. And so, I just wanted to take a moment to point out some delicious ironies that came to me in either email or deleted comments.

One person said that because of my "vulgar terms," I lacked class and people would have trouble taking me seriously.

The other person said I was "selfish and sexist" for mentioning Jenny's body parts.

So... just to sum up....

Using "vulgar terms" to talk about this person means that I lack class:

and mentioning the "body parts" of this person makes me selfish and sexist:

Got it? Excellent. I'm glad we're all clear on that 

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A letter to @JennyMcCarthy

Cartoon by my good friend Lady Estrogen

Dear Jenny McCarthy:

As an autism mom, I've never had a problem with you. Even though most people I know hate your guts, I've always maintained a casual distance from the whole thing. On the one hand, I'm a believer in vaccinations and the importance of herd immunity; both my kids have had all their shots, although not necessarily on a perfect schedule. On the other hand, I do have some questions about the connection between autism and vaccinations, despite the myriad of studies that have proven there isn't one. In my opinion, since we have no definitive scientific answer about what causes autism, we also don't have a definitive scientific answer about what doesn't cause autism, so I just try to keep an open mind about the whole thing.

In the past, I would always listen to the arguments against you and defend you by saying that every time I'd heard you talk, you would say "I'm not a doctor, I'm just a mom." That's something I can completely understand and respect. You were just talking about your own experiences and after all, we're all just moms (and dads) doing the best we can for our kids with the tools that we have.

At least at first, anyway. As the years have gone on, you've changed your argument from being "just a mom" talking about her experiences, to one of medical authority; casting doubt on scientists and doctors, but most importantly causing others to do the same. I'm not really on board with that, but again.... you're allowed to say what you want, and until now I was still sure that you were "just a mom;" doing what's best for your kid with the tools that you had.

I also had no particular opinion about you personally. If you want to show your body for money, I say more power to you! It's a very nice body, after all, and if that's something that works for you there's no reason I should think ill of you for it. You're an adult, you make your own choices, it's not my place to judge you for them.

As I write this I know that I will have some friends who will take issue with the fact that I'm giving you any credibility at all, but that's just what I do, you see; I am probably the most open-minded person you could ever know. I haven't walked in your shoes, I don't know your life, so I can't say anything about you other than to believe that you're just a mom, doing what's best for your kid. Who am I to say that your experience isn't as valid as mine? The answer is that I can't say that; nobody can say that, and that's the credo by which I live my life. My experience is my experience, and your experience is yours. Just because they're different doesn't mean one is more valid than the other. 

But then you went and made the worst mistake a parent can make, in my opinion: You cast judgment on other parents for not making the same choices you did. You broke the number one rule of autism parenting, which is to know that nobody knows any more than anybody else does and we're all doing the best we can with the tools that we have. But you had to go and separate us autism parents into two categories: 1. Warrior moms (Train A) and 2. Victim moms (Train B). A warrior mom will do anything she can to "cure" her child of autism, while a victim mom will do very little, all the while lying back and basking in the attention she gets from having an autistic child. Naturally here you are the warrior mom, but the problem is that by your definition, this makes me the "victim mom;" because I haven't done chelation and I haven't seen a DAN doctor, or various other biomedical options. All I did was ABA but despite the results we've seen, since my son is not currently "cured" of autism, that means that I didn't do "everything I could" for him, which, by your definition, makes me a "victim mom."

You know what, lady? Fuck you. FUCK YOU. Up until now, despite all the things you've said and all the damage you've done to the health of American children and the image of autism, you weren't my enemy. You were still just a mom, perhaps a very misguided one, but still just a mom, and I could respect that you had a different opinion from me. But now that you've called me a victim, and you have declared yourself to be morally superior to me? Kiss my fucking ass. I am no victim, my kid isn't a victim and none of my friends who have chosen similar paths are, either. But you're going to stand there and judge us for the choices that we've made, just because they're different from yours? No. No fucking way. 

Not that it matters to you, of course. I mean, I'm just a mom, doing the best I can for my kid with the tools that I have. You're rich and famous and there's nothing I can do that would hurt you or even make you change your mind. But at least I can say it, here on the internet: You fucked up, sister. You fucked up big time.

Nice tits, though.

Bitch.



Do you hate Jenny McCarthy, too? Join this Facebook page! She doesn't speak for the autism community; the rest of us do.

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Fuck you, Universe. Or whatever your name is

Hubs and I were playing Rock Band earlier, and I was singing Rock Lobster, and apparently (unbeknownst to me, before today) I have memories of my brother and that song, and I was completely overwhelmed by feelings and thoughts of him.

I guess I need an outlet for this shit. Not just me telling another person how I feel, but the stupid universe needs to know that this dude was fucking awesome and it sucks for taking him away from us.

And, so... Fuck you, universe. Fuck you for not letting him be here right now. Fuck you. FUCK YOU.

It's not fair, what you've done. it's not fair. He should be here today. He should be here now, and he should have kids, and a family, and a house, and I should be able to call him or text him or email him or whatever and ask his opinion about things. And I should have my wise and amazing and awesome brother in my life right now.

Fuck you, cancer. Fuck you, Universe. Fuck you for making this happen. FUCK YOU. It's not fair. It's NOT FAIR. FUCK YOU.

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