xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.: Relatively Serious Post
Showing posts with label Relatively Serious Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relatively Serious Post. Show all posts

Monday, February 25, 2013

I am a feminist

I am a woman, but I am not a victim.

Society may think that I need its protection, but society is wrong.  I don't need your laws protecting my vanity; protecting my womanhood. I can protect myself. Your well crafted, media tested talking points do not speak for me; I can speak for myself.

I am responsible for the choices that I make and the things that I say and do. I will choose what I eat and drink and what medications I take. I am in charge of what I look like, what I wear, how I act, and in the end, I take ownership of the consequences of all of my actions.

I will raise my children as I see fit, and I will own my body in all of its fleshy glory, and I will fuck my husband, while using birth control, and not be ashamed of any of it.

I don't care if you call me a slut, a bitch, a whore, or a cunt. Saying those words might make you an asshole, but they don't affect me in the slightest. Those are just words and your words don't define me: I define myself.

I am a woman, and I am not a victim of men. I am responsible for myself; for my own feelings, for my own sense of self worth. For my own life.

I am a feminist and I am proud to call myself one, because this is what feminism means to me.

It means that I am not weak.

It means that I am not a victim.

It means that I am a woman.



Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Black and white is for cookies only

The blogosphere is a war zone, the players are autism parents vs. autistic adults, and you have to pick a side.

You can either believe that disabled people are burdens and tragedies or you can believe that disabled people are capable of living happy and fulfilling lives. You can acknowledge and accept the difficulties that autism parents live with every day or you can believe that struggling with autism means that you don't actually love your child. You can't mourn the tragic death of George Hodgins and feel sympathy for his mother at the same time; you just can't. This is a black and white battle and you need to choose which side you're on.

"You're not like my child. You can write. And have a job. And friends."

"You're abusing your child by giving him/her ABA."

"You're a fake autistic/a fraud/a poseur/the enemy of me and my child."

"Grieving because your child is autistic makes you selfish and is not okay."

I'm sorry, but that's fucking bullshit, and I refuse to participate in it. I will not pick a side, because none of this is black and white. There may be extremists on either side of any issue but as like most issues, the majority of us lie in the middle; in the grey area.

Here in the grey area, I know that my experience with autism isn't the same as your experience with autism, but that doesn't mean that my experience is less valid than yours, or that yours is less valid than mine. It just means they're different, and while I have not walked in your shoes, I can still be sympathetic to your feelings; and I expect the same from you in return.

That doesn't just apply to me, of course; that's for all of us. And of course this war didn't start recently, it's been waging for years; but until and unless we all... all of us.... come to terms with these facts, this war will never end. And what good is it doing for our kids? For the adults? For the adults that our kids will be some day?

My friend Rhiannon, who blogs at Unhandicapping the Disabled Life (and who is so much better with words than I am) says: "You can address those with disabilities as entities of value in and of themselves, and for themselves, or you can address them as if their value only exists as contextualized by the part they play in the lives and world of others around them. In either case, there is the issue of how you make those judgements. Do you judge a person, a life, and a place in the world only by its disadvantages, or only by its advantages? Do you judge things for what they are, or in contrast to what they might otherwise have been? Or, perhaps, can we be as realistic about the life of someone with disabilities as we can about any other life, and accept an honest dialogue that reflects the totality of the human experience. That is, after all, what everyone involved in this debate IS.... a human being. It doesn't matter if we're talking about a teacher, aid, therapist, doctor, parent, sibling, or anyone else in the support system (or lack thereof) that, directly or indirectly, is involved in the life of someone with Autism.... even that stranger in line at the store. The fact is, we're all human, and we're all in this together. Not for better OR worse, for better AND worse."

I added the emphasis on that last part because it perfectly sums up what I'm (lamely) trying to say. This "black and white war" does no good for anybody involved, and so I'm staying in the grey area. It's here that I get to both sympathize with my autism mom friends whose experiences have been so much harder than mine, and who tell me that it really is like a battlezone sometimes, and I can learn from my autistic friends who have made my life, and my son's life, so much better just for having known them. I'm lucky that I get both sides and if you're insisting on staying just on one, I feel sorry for you.

The world isn't black and white, and yours shouldn't be, either.



Thursday, November 24, 2011

Thanksgiving memories

Thanksgiving always makes me think of my brother. For obvious reasons, of course, because on days like this you think of family, especially family that is no longer with you, but I think of him especially on this day (he died almost 9 years ago).

He loved stuffing. Fucking LOVED it. Growing up, my mom always had to make a shit ton extra because he would scarf so much of it down. At his request, at some point during my childhood, she added sausage to her patented recipe, and that's the recipe I still use today. It's good stuff, man. Good fucking stuff.

His last Thanksgiving was at my house, with his wife, a baby Child 1, my parents and Hubs' sister and her husband. In the last year or so of his life he had been seeing some kind of Chinese doctor (apparently he was also the Dalai Lama's doctor?) who put him on this crazy diet of restriction, because such and such food causes a such and such in the body and such and such whateverthefuck.

I remember that he wasn't allowed to eat mustard, or poppy seeds? But the most important restriction, in this context. was that he couldn't eat any birds. BIRDS. He couldn't eat fucking birds on Thanksgiving!! So I made a separate bunch of stuffing, not cooked in the turkey, with pork sausage and a mushroom gravy. Not as good. I mean, it was good (because I'm a good cook, if I do say so myself), but it wasn't how it was supposed to be. He gave it his best shot and I distinctly remember him saying at one point  "fuck it" and going for a handful of the "good" stuffing. Because, really? Not eating any birds or bird products is really going to stop a stage 4 melanoma that had already spread to his brain at that point? I don't think so.

I hope he liked the stuffing. I'm sure he did but I don't remember specifically.

I miss him; on most days I miss him, but on Thanksgiving I miss him the most. I wish he could have some of my gravy, I know he would love it.



Monday, October 10, 2011

I am the 99% #OccupyTogether

Warning: This post isn't funny.

I'm sure you've heard of the protests happening in New York and now all over the country: people are tired of this country being a plutocracy and have decided to protest. If you haven't, go here: Occupy Together.

I support this movement 100%. This may change your opinion of me, in which case, I apologize, but I figure I've got about 400 people who might read this today and I need to take advantage of my modest audience.

If this were 20 years ago and I didn't have kids and autism and soccer and clients, you bet your ass you would find me sitting on the sidewalk of whatever bank was being protested in whatever city I was in. But, I can't do that now, all I can do is use my platform and my voice to try to help them spread the word.

I'm not going to try to convince anybody that they need to support this movement, too, but I am going to repost something that I wrote about 6 months ago and was originally a guest post on Momma Politico. If I tried to write something today, it would be exactly what I already wrote, so I'm just going to share it with you guys again.

By the way, if you disagree with me and want to tell me about it, I'm totally okay with that. Seriously. Don't hold back. But if you do, please use your name. If you have an opinion, own it. Don't be a pussy and hide behind anonymous, otherwise I'll delete it.

For more information on getting involved in your area, or online, go to Occupy Together.


On Being Powerless

There's a reason why I never talk about politics on my blog. And I'll tell you! I used to be the most politically active person ever. I organized, I ran groups, I did voter registration (that's how I met my husband), I was on fire! Then Gore vs. Bush happened and I was profoundly struck at exactly how powerless I really am. All of that work I'd been doing was pointless. My vote, my voice, my actions: useless. I'm just one person, there's nothing I can do about any of it, so why bother? Why bother even knowing what's happening in the world? I just feel angry and frustrated that these events unfold before my eyes and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about any of it.

Nowadays I try hard to stay away from the news, because things have only gotten worse in the last 10 years. Our country has become a plutocracy, with politicians who care only about getting power and money for themselves and not about the people they supposedly represent. Our national discourse is controlled by a bunch of ego-maniacal talking heads who say things like the earthquake in Japan is a message from God. Corporations have been given the same rights as fucking people, except when it comes to being punished for breaking the law. We've got power hungry Governors deciding for themselves that they have the right to strip the people of all their power, and now teachers are the bad guys? Teachers, police officers, firemen.... they're the enemy now?? Are you fucking kidding me???? Occasionally I (accidentally) happen upon some of it and I get so angry. I'm getting angry right now just thinking about all of it; but why? Why get angry? My anger is meaningless. I'm not a billionaire, nobody cares what I think. It's better for my mental well being to just not know what's happening; it makes me a happier person.

It's a horrible feeling, to be powerless like that. To have a very strong opinion about something that matters to you a great deal and know that it doesn't matter in the slightest what you think about it. I imagine that's how kids feel a good deal of the time, especially kids that are non-verbal or who have trouble expressing themselves.

I am, however, still one of those people who has trouble not saying something when I witness what I consider to be an injustice. I try to focus my attention on things that happen locally; at least there's a smaller audience if I stay in Berkeley. As a result I have had some "tussles" with our school district in the past. (Nothing about either of my kids, it's been entirely political). What I took away from my experiences, though, was that the district and the administration don't care what I think. They're going to pretend to be listening to me when I'm in their face talking about stuff, but once I leave the room they're going to do whatever they wanted in the first place. I'm just a parent. I'm not a major donor, I'm not a sponsor, I'm not an elected official: they don't care what I think. There's that powerless feeling again. Fuck, that sucks.

Recently I had an experience with the principal at our school which originally involved just a few other parents, the principal and myself. Then the principal did this seriously fucked up thing that had implications for parents of kids with special needs district-wide. I was pissed.  So pissed my hands were shaking. So pissed that I had to physically restrain myself from marching into her office and telling her to go fuck herself.

I'm not going to go into detail, but I will tell you that I may be "just a parent," completely powerless on my own, but as part of a group of parents it turns out that I actually do have some power. A bunch of us special needs parents rallied, together, and we got that shit fixed. As a result I was able to send a VERY satisfying email to our principal which essentially said "HA HA I WIN YOU LOSE." Holy fuck was that nice.

My point? Not entirely sure, to be honest, except that I really wanted to say "holy fuck was that nice." Maybe I think our country is due for a revolution; we may be powerless as individuals but what kind of change can we do as a group? I would get behind an uprising; I might even start watching the news again if it would help. But things in this country need to change, and soon.

It's time to find out exactly how much power we actually have.

Fucking bring it on.



Saturday, October 1, 2011

How do I help him stand up for himself?

A little bit of background for those of you who aren't intimately familiar with my childrens' personalities (whatever): Child 1 is 9 and has autism. He is sweet and smart and mellow and kind and a little shy, even around us. Child 2 is 6 and does NOT. He is crazy smart, funny, feisty, adorable and very outgoing.

Child 2 is an excellent person to be helping Child 1 learn to socialize, because he's pushy and demanding (but in an awesome way, of course) and you have no choice but to be aware he is in the room; just in the past 6 months I've noticed a change in the way they interact and play together. It. Is. Awesome.  They have back and forth conversations,  one asks, the other answers, I don't have to do any prompting or even be in the room. LOVE. IT.

Whenever there's a turf or possession war, my first response is to say "don't talk to me, talk to him about it," for a number of reasons, but mainly because I want Child 1 to learn how to do these things without my help and there's no safer place for that than with his brother, in his own house.

HOWEVER! Now that they're interacting so much more (yay) I find myself constantly walking this line between trying to help Child 1 stand up for himself, and not showing any favoritism. For example, the other night C1 asked me to find him a flashlight so he could play with it. About 10 minutes later I see that C2 is playing with the flashlight. I asked him why he had it and he said "C1 said he was done with it." So I ask C1 if he was done with it and he said he was, but I know that wasn't true because I had hunted around the house for the damn thing at least as long as he had been playing with it. I sat down next to him and told him that he doesn't have to hand all his toys over whenever his brother asks for him, if he's not done he should say he's not done. He nodded; he understands this concept, but it's not what actually happens.

It felt weird telling one child, and the older one at that, that he needed to stand up to the other child. I can't make him be more assertive, but I know he still wanted the flashlight, even if he said he was done with it. And if Child 2 had heard that? Man he would have been pissed. He's already complaining about how C1 gets to do more stuff than he does (not really true; he's also very dramatic).

I hope I'm explaining this properly, I feel like it's just a crazy jumble of words, but how do I help Child 1 learn to stand up for himself, in this safe environment, without making Child 2 feel bad? Any suggestions are appreciated.....



Thursday, June 16, 2011

Gephyrophobia

NO this post isn't about Halo PC. This post is about my insanity. (Probably only one person will get that reference. Say hi, Lisa!)
Gephyrophobia is an anxiety disorder brought about by the fear of bridges. As a result, sufferers of gephyrophobia may avoid routes that will take them over bridges.

Dr. Liebowitz, founder of the Anxiety Disorders Clinic at the New York State Psychiatric Institute says: "It's not an isolated phobia, but usually part of a larger constellation ... It's people who get panic attacks. You get light-headed, dizzy; your heart races. You become afraid that you'll feel trapped."

I've always had anxiety and panic issues, ever since I was in my teens. When I was younger I had no idea that's what was going on, I just thought I was dying or something. I even saw doctors about it and for some reason they were all idiots and never told me what the deal was. Fucking idiots.

About 10 years ago I was living in Berkeley and working in San Francisco, at an office nowhere near public transportation, and I had a commute that would take me over the Bay Bridge every day. Initially I was fine with my commute; I was young and invincible! Who gives a shit about a stupid bridge, right?

Eventually I started having anxiety issues while driving across the bridge. I don't know what started it, because I wasn't living in the Bay Area when the "bridge incident" happened during the earthquake in 1989 where the whole fucking thing collapsed in on itself, so it's not like I was traumatized by that, but I would be driving along and suddenly would feel like the road in front of me was actually rising up and over my head and I was going to fall backwards, of course, into the Bay. And when that happened I would totally freak out and start hyperventilating and panicking and oftentimes would slam on the brakes. I'd have to move all the way over to the right and go about 40 mph just to make it off the goddamn thing.

It sucked. But it didn't happen all the time and by that time I was a (relative) grownup and had been introduced to the wonderful, magical Prince Xanax.

But then I got pregnant and could no longer take the magical pill that made everything better. Things got worse.

THEN 9/11 happened, and from there? There was no way. No fucking way could I drive over that goddamned thing anymore. I would have to crawl along the far right lane at 30 mph and I'd still be fucking freaking out the entire time. I actually changed my job requirements so that I would only work from home and ever since then I've driven over the bridge only a handful of times and then only if I'm well stocked with little pink pills. Little, beautiful pink pills of heaven.

This morning I had to drive into the city for a client who just moved their offices there. I refuse to take clients in the city for just this reason otherwise I would never subject myself to that on a regular basis, but today I had no choice.

The drive over there was fine because for some reason that route doesn't scare me as much, but for the drive back I was, as usual, fucking white knuckling it the whole time. There was traffic, and I was happy, because I couldn't go faster than about 45 and that made it better.

Anyway, I realized that I totally psych myself out because I started panicking about it before I even got anywhere near the damn thing, and then the fear of panic just increases the eventual panic and makes everything so much worse. So, I tried to distract myself by writing this post in my head and goddammit it actually worked! I was distracted enough to not be freaking out for at least the second half of the drive.

Sorry this one wasn't funny but since writing this in my head was so helpful to me earlier I didn't really have a choice but to post it, right? Right.



Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I barf on your standardized test!

So, standardized testing starts this week. For anybody with a kid in public school grade two or higher you know what I'm talking about. This is how school districts and states and everybody with an opinion, informed or otherwise, determine "how well" a school is doing. No Child Left Behind puts particular emphasis on the importance of test scores and if you don't do well you end up in what they call "Program Improvement." Our school is in year 5 of PI and I think our district is, too. This is supposed to mean a lot of No Good Really Bad Things for both the school and the district, and I've been hearing of dire warnings for years now about how the entire world will come to a screeching halt once we're in PI Year 5. I'm still waiting for that to happen.

Anyway, I've never known what to do with Child 1 and The Test. He can't take it without what they call "accommodations," which apparently means his score doesn't even count? I honestly have no idea and no matter how much I try I can't seem to find anybody who will explain this to me in a way I can understand it.

First of all, in my personal opinion, I think that relying on standardized test scores to judge how a school is doing is pretty stupid, particularly since (theoretically) the consequences of failing are supposed to be so dire. Not all kids are good at tests, I never was, but that doesn't mean I'm not smart. And it seems like everybody (adults) puts so much pressure on these kids to Do Well On The Test, how could you not crack under that kind of pressure? Not to mention the pressure that teachers get for their students to get good scores. Every teacher I know will tell you that the test isn't a measure of how well their students are doing, it's a measure of how well they are doing, as teachers. And then their teaching ability is judged by their students' scores, sometimes with some pretty fucked up consequences (read that article, I'm going to refer to it later and you're going to feel stupid for not knowing what I'm talking about). I don't understand how The Test is an accurate measure of anything, really.

And then there's that whole "Teach to the test" thing that pisses people off so much, and rightly so IMO. Because of all the pressure for teachers to "do well," all they end up caring about during the school year is making sure the kids know which bubbles to fill in when the time comes, and that becomes their entire focus. When this happens, kids don't get a whole education, they only get the bits and pieces that they'll need once they get that scantron form. This may be an unfortunate truth, but it's obviously stupid.

And then there are all the subgroups and demographics and statistical blah blah blah that I simply do not understand, and frankly I don't even want to understand it. Please don't talk to me about how this particular group of African American kids in this grade and this class need to get this particular percentage because I don't know what you mean.

Okay, so... do I let my kid take the test or not? This is the question that I'm now facing for a second year. Every year I wonder what I should do, every year I ask people for their opinion and every year I still have no idea what I should do. So I end up saying "okay, fuck it, let him take it." Because I doubt he even knows he's taking a test, much less this Very Very Very Important Test. They pull him out of class and into the Learning Closet (formerly known as The Learning Center, but when the district decided to add a fifth 3rd grade class this year, naturally the SPED kids were the first to get the shaft, so they were moved from a nice big classroom and into a closet in order to make room. YAY!) and he hangs out with the Resource Teacher, who he likes and hangs out with all the time, anyway. She tests him, I guess, and he does his thing, I guess, and in the end we get a score in the mail over the summer. This is what we did last year and his scores came back as "Shittiest Scores Ever." That's actually what it said! (No it didn't.)

So, if his score doesn't count (I think) and they all suck, anyway, what the fuck is the point of him taking it? Because whenever the issue comes up, our Principal always STRESSES HOW IMPORTANT IT IS FOR HIM TO TAKE THE TEST REGARDLESS OF THE OUTCOME. Usually the argument is "he's going to be taking tests his whole life, he might as well get used to it," which I have never once bought. Because pulling him out of class to hang out in the Learning Closet, which is something he does every day of the week, doesn't seem to be adequate preparation for a life time of test taking and I don't see how anybody could make the argument that it IS. So I've always thought there was some other motivation going on there, because they really want him to take it... but why?

It was explained to me once that the Resource Specialist and the Principal had some kind of test participation quota they needed to meet and by having Child 1 take the test they were something something percentages good for them? (Okay, it's possible I didn't really understand the explanation; I mean, come on. I'm smart, but I'm not THAT smart!) So, having my kid in the Learning Closet and going through the test motions is a benefit to the school? Even though his score sucks? And it doesn't even count? Well, okay, honestly, I'm cool with that. I have nothing but respect for anybody who would even dare stand up in front of a room full of kids and try to teach them shit, so I usually just do whatever they tell me. If I thought for a second that my kid's self esteem was at all impacted by any of this, I assure you I would have a much stronger opinion about it, but he doesn't seem to give a shit, so neither do I. Fuck it! Let him take it!

But then there's the whole "taking a political stance" by having my kid opt out, which all parents are allowed to do, by the way; nobody is actually required to take the test, despite what school officials will tell you. (Apparently teachers all know this but they're not allowed to tell parents.) And, shit, I'm ALL for taking a political stance if it's something I believe in, but as I've said, I've never been able to get a satisfying explanation from anybody about why I should or shouldn't have my kid take the test, so I've toyed with the idea but never actually done it. But... would my opting him out have been able to help save Rigoberto Ruelas' life, or others that may come after him? That's a good enough reason for me, I'll do anything to help teachers... but is that what I should do? Is it the right thing to do? And if it is... how? And WHY?

Anyway, it's only our 2nd year with this, but I go through this every time we have an IEP and every time the subject is mentioned. And I never know what to do. And I never feel good about what I decide because I've never been able to form a solid opinion on the subject and I don't like being uninformed.

My point? Yes, I do have one: Standardized testing starts this week! And there I was, wondering once again if I was doing the right thing, when Child 1 wakes up and apparently makes the decision for me, in the form of fucking barfing everywhere.... repeatedly. Guess he's not taking the test, after all! Um. Thanks?



Wednesday, March 30, 2011

I am at a loss (Relatively Serious Post)

Okay, I'll be honest with you guys: Sometimes... okay.... most of the time.... I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this parenting thing. It constantly amazes me that I'M responsible for keeping these little people alive and making sure they don't turn out to be serial killers. How the fuck did that happen? It's too much pressure sometimes, like I'll say or do one thing wrong and that will fuck them up for the rest of their lives. Whose idea was it to put me in charge??? Because I have no idea what I'm doing!!

Case in point: It seems like all Child 2 and I do these days is argue and bicker like an old married couple. But NOT like an old married couple because hubs and I ARE an old married couple and WE don't argue and bicker like this.

This morning he (Child 2, not hubs) tripped over my foot. It was simple: he was walking, did not see my foot, he tripped and fell on his ass. He then started screaming "You tripped me! Why did you move your foot on purpose so that I would fall down?" and the fucking tantrum just continued on and on with me trying to calmly explain that I did NOT trip him, that it was an accident, etc. etc. etc. It happened 2 minutes before we needed to leave for school, which is when all of these fucking things seem to happen, so I had to drag him out of the house and into the car, with him screaming and crying about how I tripped him and why do I hate him so much??

We got to school and, I fucking swear to god, it turned into "Why are you trying to kill me? You want to make me be dead!"

Seriously? What the fuck, kid? You think I want to fucking kill you? Dramatic much?????

He's hysterical and it's impossible to talk to him when he's like that because he won't stop screaming and yelling at me and no matter what I say he says he doesn't believe me ("I don't want to kill you" "YES YOU DO YOU WANT TO MAKE ME DEAD") and he can't hear me over his own screaming, anyway.

So, I manage somehow to get him out of the car and onto the school yard where he sees his friends and instantly becomes happy and starts playing and running around with them. When I see that he's calmed down I crouch down (OW MY KNEES) so we can have a conversation about it face to face. I explain that I'm sorry he fell down, I'm sorry he got hurt, I understand how frustrating that is, but it was an accident. He tripped over my foot and I was NOT trying to kill him.

He didn't fucking believe me! He started screaming and crying all over again!!

WTF????

Other than the paranoia he apparently now has about his inevitable murder at my hands, this is pretty typical for the kinds of interactions we've been having lately. 1. He fucking freaks out, 2. I try to remain calm and explain, 3. He doesn't believe me 4. I fucking freak out (#4 is sometimes optional).

Then I pick him up this afternoon and he immediately starts crying and screaming at me again. Why? WHY? So I emailed his teacher and asked if maybe he had been crying and screaming all day? Maybe something else is going on with him? Maybe he's getting sick or something? Maybe?

No. She responded that he "was fine all day today, he didn't seem sad or withdrawn at all. He didn't cry either." I knew she was going to say that.

I guess it's personal.  

Thanks

Can anybody recommend a book or something I can read? I feel like I'm totally at a loss here.

If only he had autism... THEN I would know what to do....