Not Necessarily the News

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I don’t watch the news much on television these days, mostly because I don’t like it on when my kids are around for the evening news and I sure as heck ain’t staying up until ten or eleven o’clock. I attempt to read it online but finding unbiased news sources is just about impossible. Currently, the more popular “news” sites think reporting mundane celebrity events is news, not to mention the fact that they think we CARE. Plus, the media tends to get fixated on a certain subject and then that certain subject gets blamed for EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS for the next few months.

For example?

El Nino

Global Warming

Tsunami

Chernobyl

Hurricane _____ (insert latest catastrophe here)

Flash mobs

trench coats

video games

iPods/iPads

Smart Phones

Camrys

etc, etc.

Now, to be fair, sometimes those events DO cause other bad things to happen. I get it, truly. But every freaking thing that happens?  No.

The weather is bad. OH MY GAH WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE IT IS FROM SMART PHONES

There was a forest fire. PEOPLE WEAR TRENCH COATS AND WHITE AFTER LABOR DAY! THE HORROR!

But the new favorite obsession? Move over pseudoephedrine, there’s a new drug in town.

Bath Salts.

No!  For realz!  BATH SALTS.

Apparently, someone has figured out that you can turn them into drugs. I sh*t you not.

And this weekend I read on several sites that bath salts were the cause of every ill.  Teen mobs. Killing sprees. Car crashes.

Zombie Attacks.

I’m totally carrying a chainsaw around now.

Shingles! TADA!

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I have shingles. And I don’t mean the roofing kind.

Because my life isn’t hectic enough, last week I felt like crud for a few days. I had a school event this past weekend and was up to my eyeballs in meetings and such last week, too. In fact, last week was one of the busiest EVER. Something every night of the week. Naturally, that meant I felt like I was getting the flu for about five days straight. I figured I was coming down with it since The Guy I Live With had it the week before.

And you know, we have to outdo each other on stuff like that.

But after five days of feeling like crud, I woke up and it felt like I had scratches all over my chest. And when I felt them, well, they felt like pimples. But they itched. But if I touched them it hurt like a mofo.

Do you know what a mofo hurts like?  Kinda like a thousand needles stabbing you all at once. THE MORE YOU KNOW.

Anyways,  I was smaht enough to get my arse right to the doctor and get it checked and as expected, SHINGLES! TADA!  I know how to do it right, yo. I can’t just have a virus, I must have a really sh*tty one.  One that hurts and itches and makes me feel lousy.

The good news? They gave me good drugs. And they help me not feel like crud. And honestly, shingles aren’t THAT bad. Except for the part where I am crawling out of my skin and want to stab someone basically ALL DAY LONG.

Yes. They suck.

And the meds? Well, they make me sleepy and I seem to have lost cognitive ability. As in, I cannot seem to put two coherent thoughts together. Or two sentences. Or heck, two words. In other words, I have absosmurfly no ability to do anything that requires brain function. Like blogging and writing. Or planning. Or going to the next room and remembering why I went there in the first place.

I know, I know. It’s my body’s way of saying SLOW THE EFF DOWN MUTHA TRUCKA.

And the docs and what not all tell me I need to be less stressed out and relax. And rest a ton.

Because THAT is so easy to do with what I have going on.

If you believe that I have a fabulous business deal in Nigeria that I require your assistance with.

PS – if you really love me and want to make me feel better, help a sista out and go read my stuffs at Aiming Low. Especially the current one because I worked my arse off on that and I’m a delicate flower and I’ll cry if no one likes it. And you don’t want to see me cry, right?  Of course you don’t. So go read it.

Are You Autism Mom Enough?

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Surely by now you’ve seen that ridiculous Time cover and possibly read the articles that went along with it. If you haven’t, get out from under that rock you are under and try reading a newspaper or somethin’…I’ll wait while you Google that shiz.

Anywho, I got to thinking. I was/am what you’d call “AP” or Attachment Parent.I’m not some militant freak who doesn’t shower and makes everything from scratch. I don’t stalk Dr. Sears and there’s no one single, solitary focus to my parenting style. We do what we do because it makes sense to us and it works for our family.  I do not, however, do stuff to make other people feel like they have to keep up with the Jones. Joneses. Whatevs.  I don’t berate anyone who doesn’t practice what I practice. In fact, I think those articles painted most AP parents in a very bad and unfair light. There’s no competition folks.

You wanna know what attachment parenting is? It’s about getting in tune with your child’s needs. It’s about finding ways to support them emotionally. It’s about parenting to the best of your ability WITHOUT GUILT. It’s about being truthful with yourself, educating yourself and doing what’s best for your family. Not following some cult blindly, not copping out and slacking off, not doing stuff because other people do it, not feeling like crap because you don’t.

You wanna know what I despise? Mommy wars. In my world, they don’t exist. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You just have to be true to yourself and your family. And, remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

In the Autism and special needs worlds? Yep. Mommy Wars. I choose not to get involved. I do, however, advocate for my children to the best of my ability. I’m there for them as much as I humanly can be. I do probably do a bit more than the average parent (see? I’m making progress admitting this Special Parenting thing is HARD) but there is no Hardship Olympics. This isn’t a competition. We should be there for each other, no matter the disability. There shouldn’t be anyone made to feel inferior because they aren’t Autism Parent of the Year or because they didn’t win some list with their blog.

If you can truly say you do your best parenting, to the best of your ability? Good enough for me. If you don’t do a damn thing and you know it? This is a call to action. You can do better. Your kid needs you to do better. No excuses.  And don’t feel like I’m judging you. It’s up to you and it’s between you and your own personal demons, mmkay?

Me? I’m glad I was an AP parent. I feel that due to my children’s issues it was the best darn thing I could have done. Not the cloth diapering part (that didn’t last long) or the breastfeeding part (that did last long). The part where I attempted to parent a little differently, constantly educate myself and support them emotionally to the best of my ability while doing my best to help them developmentally. Cosleep? Yes, we did. We do. When they NEED it. Every night? No. Only when they NEED us there. Most nights my kids want to be in their own rooms, in their own beds reading or listening to music as they fall asleep. It wasn’t always that way, but we let them feel secure in their own time. And The Guy I Live With slept on the couch a lot.

I KEED.

A little.

But for realz, the way I parent my kids? MY BUSINESS. What you do? YOUR BUSINESS. If it isn’t working for you or for me? We need to look at what we’re doing and see where we can change things. What I do know is my kids are happy, confident and well-adjusted, considering their challenges.

And that’s ok by me.

Follow the RULES

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Bug Boy is our little policeman. In other words, he knows the rules and he’s gonna enforce them no matter what. At school this can sometimes make him less-than-popular because after a while the other kids grow tired of, “SHE SAID PUT THE PENCILS IN THE PENCIL CAN. YOU STILL HAVE YOUR PENCIL!  IT’S AGAINST THE RULES!  AAAAAH!” and then his head blows up and it makes a big mess and no one likes brains on them, right?  Except zombies.

Anywho, he’s the same way at home. We get chastised for our language use and if we bend the rules we certainly hear about it. Now, you might think HE follows the rules to the letter. Well, he does. Sorta. The rules that make sense in HIS head. And if there’s a rule he doesn’t care for he finds a loophole. Seriously, this kid is the LOOPHOLE MASTER. I’ve never seen someone so adept.

We had a dental checkup for him this week and he’s pretty good about taking care of his teeth. Fortunately he inherited his father’s perfectly straight teeth and it looks like he won’t need braces EVER. Seriously, I’ve never seen straighter ones. They’re perfect and wonderful. At the end of the appointment the hygienist said, “He should avoid anything sticky or sweet until tomorrow but he can eat right away.” Since we were in the usual mad rush to get there (EIGHT IN THE MORNING? WHAT WAS I THINKING?) we had to get breakfast on his way to school. We stopped at the local convenience place and he grabbed a hashbrown. I was all, “Want a drink? Want a yoohoo? Special treat!” Because I wanted a yoohoo and the only way I can get one without looking like a large child is to get one for my kid and stuff.

But he refused.

A kid. Refused sugar. And chocolate. And total crap in a bottle.

So I pressed on. “C’mon, yoohoo!  Special treat!” And he said, “MOM. Didn’t you hear her? Nothing sweet or sticky until tomorrow. THAT WOULD BE AGAINST THE RULES.”

I swear he’s more and more like my father and brother every day.

Then last night we were preparing for his big school trip to the Wetlands Institute today. I helped him pack his bag and we figured out lunch and whatnot. Glancing at the list I noticed they were permitted to bring five dollars to the trip for the gift shop. So I told him to grab his wallet and get a five dollar bill if he wanted to have some spending money.

What followed was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. He COULD NOT POSSIBLY bring a five dollar bill!  The old ladies in the gift shop are too busy! There aren’t enough cashiers! They won’t make change!  He’ll be the ONLY KID without five ones!  AND IT HAD TO BE FIVE ONES!  Not five dollars in quarters!  THE TEACHER SAID FIIIIIVE OOOOONNNNEEES!  I WILL GET IN TROUBLE! WAAAAAAAAH!

Oh my heck. For realz.

His mother is a big meany head and was all, “IF THE TEACHER WANTS FIVE ONES SHE CAN GO OUT AT 9 IN THE POURING RAIN AND GET FIVE ONES. I AIN’T GOING OUT.”

And his father was the nice guy and exchanged five ones for a five and instantly the waterworks stopped and he put it in his wallet and into his backpack.

Sometimes OCD is fun. Like when I say, “We have ten minutes until we have to leave! Finish quickly” And in nine minutes I say, “Ok! Time to go! It’s 8am!” And he’s all, “I STILL HAVE ONE MINUTE. IT IS SEVEN FIFTY-NINE.” Or if I say, “Give the dogs each a cup and a half” and if I scoop out an eighth over that he’s all, “MOOOOM. THAT’S FIVE EIGHTHS! TOO MUCH!  WAAAAAH!”

And people wonder why I get stressed out.

I’m Tricky Trickster

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The past few months Bugaboo has had a bit of a personality change. His usual happy-happy-happiness was replaced with a sulky, withdrawn child who screamed for hours, stopped sleeping and bit the heck out of himself. We’ve been clawing our way back (slowly, very slowly) but every day there’s a new change and another thing to celebrate.

We almost have him back but we’re still perplexed about the water/pool thing and the outside thing. Like, how does a kid go from climbing out of windows to get outside to refusing to go outside? Or showering several times a day to refusing to bathe or go to the pool? With the outdoor swim club opening in a few weeks we need to get on this, yo. We spend a large part of our summer at that pool. He was doing great by the end of the summer, swimming across the pool and jumping off the dive!

The past week I had a new plan. We’re working with his school on an at-home program where the parents come up with goals and the school helps us implement them. I’m taking a “class” to do this. A lot of it is a shout out to my special ed days, writing down steps for task analysis and taking data. So I’m more than familiar with it. Besides, I’m the kind of person who constantly educates myself about best practices and we do our own version of therapy here at Casa DG. Bugaboo THINKS he is coming home to relax but he doesn’t realize he’s WORKING. MWAHAHAHA!!! EVIL MOMMY!

Anywho, the not going outside thing has been WEIRD. He did go out once for about ten seconds (and I video taped him! I WAS SO EXCITED) to the trampoline. Then the next day he refused. And I thought back and said to myself, “He stopped everything two months ago after a night on the trampoline. Hmmmm…” And decided to start there. So the past week I’ve been upping the ante.  ”Want iPad? First go outside and touch the trampoline. Then you get iPad.” And the first night he was LIVID but we did it (with Mommy’s powers of persuasion, aka physical assistance). And the next few nights? More of the same.

Then there was last night.

It started out as “keep away from Mommy and Daddy and squeal loudly” but as soon as I got him outside and off the patio? He walked on his own (no hand under his arm pit) to the trampoline. Where he willingly touched it. Then turned on his heel,noticed the new sand in the sandbox and played for a minute.

Then he went back inside to the iPad.

And I was all kinds of excited for that. Because he’s getting it. BUT WAIT!  THERE’S MORE!  He slipped back outside a few minutes later and played in the sandbox for another hour. HOUR. OUTSIDE. And ok,so he happened to eat some. But HE PLAYED. OUTSIDE. FOR AN HOUR.

That’s the most we’ve had from him in two months.

We’ve done something similar with the bathing/going to bed routine. It takes both of us (one on each side) to get him up the stairs but once he’s up there and gets over the initial squeal? I cannot get him out of the shower. Then this weekend something even better happened!  Instead of running back downstairs like a bat our out of Hades, he climbed into bed with Daddy. Then the next night he started for the stairs, stopped, cocked his head to the side and climbed into his bed. And he cried for a second when I left so I went back in and got him some water and he dozed off with a CD in one hand and his torn/destroyed Elmo book in the other, watching his laser light show. And last night?  We didn’t get a successful shower but he DID play in the sprinkler for a few minutes and put himself in bed.

PUT HIMSELF IN BED, PEOPLE.

So it appears we may be getting back to “normal” around here.

You know, whatever that is.

So This is What IT Feels Like!

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I know that sometimes life is one of those “be careful what you wish for” experiences.

For example, I was never, EVER what anyone would describe as a patient person. NO WAY. NO HOW. And then I had my kids. Let’s just say I’m learning TONS of patience these days.

Another thing I always wished for? ” Normal” days. You know, so I could feel like everyone else? Or pretend to be like everyone else? The thing is, I’ll never have “normal.” I’ll only have our version of “normal.” Which, incidentally, is CHAOTIC, LOUD AND OVERSTIMULATED. Yes, I’m aware I’m shouting. I’m illustrating a point!

The past few months have been anything BUT normal.  Since the day we drove home from vacation last July/August my life has been in total, constant upheaval. And the lives of everyone close to me. See, that was the day my sister called to tell me my Dad was being kept in the hospital. They thought he had some sort of blockage that turned out to be the dreaded C-word. And it all went downhill from there. From December on there’s been one gigantic thunderstorm over my house, complete with torrential downpours and knee-deep mud (figuratively speaking) and y’all know how much I LERVE mud and rainstorms.

I’m finally starting to see glimpses of light here and there. Since we spiraled out of control a few months ago and both boys were in serious crisis mode (AND I MEAN SERIOUS, YO) we’ve been clawing our way back out of the Pit of Despair. Little by little we’re winning tiny battles here and there and we’re getting our boys back. We’ve come a long way in a few short months. We’ve learned new things about their health and we’re trying new things to maintain their health.

Like witchcraft. And magic. (that was me being ironical)

But seriously, I feel like we’re in a good place. Oodles of doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments and prescriptions later, I can happily say, “SO THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!”

We didn’t just get improvement, y’all. We now have major changes. I feel like my boys are the little men they were destined to be. I’m seeing progress I’ve never seen in such a short amount of time. They are HAPPY. They SMILE and LAUGH. They SLEEP!  OH THEY SLEEEEEEEP!  And I feel like we’re enjoying family life again, instead of dreading every morning and evening and constantly walking on eggshells.

I know things will ebb and flow and I’m totally down with that. But this?

This feeling is amazing.

I feel like  we have our boys back. And our family back. I’m so happy I could cry.

This weekend Bugaboo was happy and calm. No bathroom accidents, very independent, he even climbed into bed with The Guy I Live With on Saturday night. Voluntarily. You know, the kid who hasn’t gone upstairs in three months unless forced or carried sound asleep? Yep. Him. And when I went up to bed I was able to get him to stumble into his room half asleep. BUT! THERE’S MORE!  He’s been in such a happy mood. He’s been completing small jobs around the house, has been eating much better, trying new foods and all around just a cheerful little guy. Sunday I got really brave and decided to take him to a local street fair. You know, parade, live acts, music on three stages, CHAOS, NOISE, HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE. We brought the wheelchair stroller and the iPad for reinforcements but we didn’t need them.

That kid walked around for two hours in utter chaos. With no problems. TWO. HOURS. PEOPLE. Unheard of!  We enjoyed ourselves! I was able to stop and chat with friends!  And Bug Boy brought his friend with us and they were able to walk around and do what they wanted to do (which was, hold onto their money and not spend anything).

When we got back home Bugaboo hibernated a little on the couch but then ventured outside a little at a time. He ate an awesome dinner. Then he used the bathroom successful, took a shower with little-to-no whining and ENJOYED IT. He played in the water and sang to himself. Then he got dressed and climbed into bed. ON HIS OWN.

And he woke up this morning and ate breakfast and got on the bus with nary a whimper.

And Bug Boy woke up, showered and got ready for school without one grumpy moment. Not one snide remark or dramatic moment.

People, is this what it’s like? IS THIS WHAT NORMAL FEELS LIKE?

Because I could seriously get used to this, yo.

Getting My Mojo Back

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Since August of last year, I feel like I’ve lost my mojo. My writing mojo.

You know, the FUNNAY.

I’ve read and reread blog posts from DG and CDL (the blog I never update) and, well, I used to be funny. I loved what I read. These days? I kinda feel like I”m going through the motions. Like I’m just doing it to do it. Not because I enjoy it.

I wanna get my mojo back.

I know, I know. Roller Coaster Ride. Up and down, etc, etc. The past eight months have been one major stressful event after another. I could barely breathe, I was so weary. And that’s what this weekend was all about.

Getting me back. And getting us back. The Guy I Live With and Me.

I think we accomplished it. I came home well-rested, relaxed and calm. I had massages scheduled THE SECOND we got to our secret beach location. I mean, the second we got there. Checked in to our spa B&B, went to our room, COUPLES MASSAGE!  WOOO! Then we sat in the hottub. OH YES WE DID.

The Guy I Live With and I had a nice, calm, relaxing four days out of town. We ate and slept ourselves silly, of course, which is exactly what we set out to do. We got to have ACTUAL UNINTERRUPTED CONVERSATIONS. I know, right?  Truly amazing.

We visited things we couldn’t visit with the kids. Like lighthouses with 191 steps!  And took a little cruise on a catamaran. And the captain called me ORANGE HAIR.

We had nice dinners and pleasant walks on the beach.  It wasn’t terribly crowded so it was nice and peaceful. And quiet and stuff. You know, except for the FIGHTER JETS going overhead. All hours of the day and night. I sh*t you not. Turns out the Naval Air Base? Half mile from our B&B! WOOO! GO US!  We picked a town with constant jet noise!

The third day we headed inland. Three inches of rain expected (and we sure did get it) we were thinking the beach was gonna be a drag. For some reason. Anywho, we went to Colonial Williamsburg and had a blast. Six hours of trudging around in the pouring, fifty-degree deluge. And right at the end, walking back to the shuttle to get our car? The umbrella broke. As the heavens opened up and dumped on us more. By the time we got back to the Visitors’ Center we were absofmurfly drenched. But fear not, as we dried off and perused the gift shop (because coming home without something for Bug Boy is akin to torture) we were treated to a dulcimer demonstration. It was lovely to shop for plastic Revolutionary Army men and books about the revolution while listening to sounds of…

OH NO HE DI’INT.

Yep. Canon in D. There is just no escape. And you know what? It’s always when I’m already in a pissy mood and soaked to my underpants from walking around in a downpour in fifty-degree weather. Funny how that works.

I took a HOT bath in this bad boy right here!

We checked into our B&B that night (new one), dried off (I took a bath in the awesome soaking tub in our room. IN OUR ROOM. Right in the middle of it!), hit an art museum and then went out to dinner. Again! CONVERSATIONS. I mean, can you believe this? We’re gonna get spoiled with this adult-interaction-without-interference stuffs.

Dinner. At a college pub. We’re all fancy-like.

I ordered a kick-arse hard cider. And let’s just say the Waiter made up for the flood when he ASKED FOR MY ID. OH YES HE DID, PEOPLE. And! There’s more! He said I didn’t look a day over 25!  Which means he was smoking crack or needed glasses or fishing for a giant tip but hey!  It’s the thought that counts right?

I can’t make this shiz up.

Anywho. We arrived safely home Monday, the boys were happy to see us (well, Bugaboo ignored me for a few hours but then he came around) and we’re settling back into our routines, slowly but surely. And I do feel better.

Much better.

Like, two months ago? Let’s just say I wasn’t in a very healthy place emotionally or mentally. Constant sleep deprivation will do that to you. But now? I feel relieved. Less weary. Happier. Calmer. Ready to face it all.

I love how just a few hours of peace can recharge my batteries.

Imagine what a week could do (AS IF)!

And while I’m still not feeling FUNNAY or like I’ve totally got my Mojo?

At least I’m not putting my underwear on backwards and shirts on inside out and going out in public. This time. Not like I’ve done that or anything. OK FINE, I TOTALLY HAVE.