Category Archives: motherhood

Will You Remember Me ~ Daily Prompt


Daily Prompt: Singular Sensation

If one experience or life change results from you writing your blog, what would you like it to be?

I’m so tired but I can’t sleep
Standin’ on the edge of something much to deep
It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can’t be heard 

I will remember you, will you remember me? 
Don’t let your life pass you by, 
Weep not for the memories 

Again got drawn in by my own thoughts on the subject.  I read “Will You Remember Me? over at Cheri Speak. Sorry about copping your title, but Sarah MacLachlan‘s haunting voice drifts through my mind when I think about the legacy I want to leave my boy when I’m gone…. Will you remember me?  It speaks to the part of my soul that wants to be remembered for something……. good.  

I’m wondering if he even knows that I write, that I love writing.  Would he be interested?  Would he care?

The reason I started this blog was so that my son who was born later in my life than I’m comfortable with, has access to his mother after her demise, whenever that should occur.  I had forgotten that somewhere along the line, but I suppose that the goal will always be met as long as I continue writing.

“If one experience of life change results from what I write in my blog,” it would be that my son reads this blog and something I say will influence him from beyond the grave to become a better person at some future fork in his life.  Wow, that could be a premise for a movie, no?

 

Follow up to Yesterday’s Post


229219_10150565589560316_4887166_n

I got so caught up in my own experience with being bullied (This is a Bully Free Zone).  Usually I just have a burst of writing, then publish right away without editing and refining my thoughts.  But where this would normally lead to is my hopes for my child, new to the public school system in an urban area.  Sometimes I see my son as a fragile flower… yeah, that’s me; but it’s definitely a product of also knowing that school aged kids can be with most ferocious of tormentors and I worry about that.

We had an incident this year with bullying, where the adults of the school did not properly, nor thoroughly, assess this incident to appreciate the full story.  What they saw were two kids who accosted my child, one holding his hands behind his back and one punching him in the stomach.  What would that tell you?  These were kids from my son’s second grade class.  They also saw my son laughing, so they presumed that they all were playing.  THAT turned my stomach.  Autistic kids cannot read or present appropriate facial expressions or body cues.  The teacher in the lunchroom did not have the training to recognize this and so she thought that they all were playing.  After I got done flipping my wig, I got ahold of the principal and blasted his ear on the need for training for ALL personnel who come into contact with my kid.  I explained to him what happened and that I had extensively questioned my son and concluded that this was not playing.  As an outcast during my school years, I realized that he, who also does not have many friends, must have been happy to have attention from his peers, in ANY form, hence his laughter.  Also, he did not realize what had actually happened.  My son said that they thought he was a “robber.”  It took several separate questioning sessions to get out of him that he was not playing with them in the first place and that their actions HURT him.  I think he still was totally clueless as to what had transpired.  Thank GOD that the school acted accordingly in that they have zero tolerance for those actions whether it was play or not play.  These boys are now separated in the classroom.

Getting back to educating our teachers.  Yeah, does that sound like an oxi-moron?  It does to me.  These school districts do not want to pay for the continuing education and training for the teachers in their schools. Our principal is suggesting or urging our teachers to get training in autism.  It may not seem like it, but it’s a pretty BIG damn step!  At the very least, he is acknowledging the need, but sadly not ready to have the district pay for it.  Hopefully, they will have more of these workshops included when teachers have to go for their “inservices”.  It’s a day when the district’s kids have the day off, but teachers must go to these, I want to say, conventions and take workshops.

Plain and simple.  I do not want my kid bullied.  My rant of yesterday stems from that; but as a mother of one, I feel for all children, not just my own.  Forget about No Child Left Behind.  NO CHILD SHOULD EXPERIENCE THE PAIN OF BEING BULLIED, period.  My heart is bursting.


I thought I would take the opportunity today to talk about the added significance of this Federal Holiday. You see, it’s a personal holiday for me, too. This is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. The day we commemorate a great man who gave his life so that EVERYONE could be truly free in this “free” country of ours called the United States of America. A man whose life was wasted, taken away from him, BUT his life was not wasted. This country started out with a great foundation, but those ideals were actively held back from the population of this country who were not white. The black people who had helped make this country what it was. Black people who fought along side the whites so that this country could be free from British rule, but they were also fighting for their own personal freedom.

As I said earlier, this is also a personal day, the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday of Jan. 2005 will never be forgotten by myself or my family. This was the very day that we found out about my “late” pregnancy. A day that is written in our history and in my soul. I am reblogging a post that I wrote way back when as a private post, then made it public but did not tag it to sort of keep it under the radar. Today I reblog it with categories and tags because, well, it’s my contribution for the day. I couldn’t ask for a better day to have the door to my future open up wide and loud. It was this day that God’s plan started to unfold for me, my purpose in life was finally revealed. Now that I look back, so appropriate that his name would be Gabriel.

Back in 2005, I read somewhere that the definition of Gabriel was “strength of God.” Very simple. But if you think about it further, it was the Archangel Gabriel who came to Mary to announce the birth of Jesus, he appeared to Zechariah to announce the birth of John (the Baptist). I am reassured I chose the perfect name for our little Life-Changer.

So without further ado, I present our birth story:  (oops, the link is above)

DragonMommie's World

August 23, 2005 ~ Written in Yahoo 360 blog

It’s 11:50AM and I am expecting Gabriel to wake up from his nap any minute. Nothing out of the ordinary today; but later we will go shopping for a crib. Gabriel has almost outgrown his cradle, the one in Ed’s family for a generation. All his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews have been in it, and now, our son. We hope the tradition is carried on by the kids. This weekend we will be going to Ed’s sister’s house, so I probably will not blog over the weekend. We want to bring back the cradle when we go, hence the crush to get a crib this week.

Gabriel has been such an unexpected blessing in our lives.

First of all, we didn’t even find out I was pregnant until I was almost 7 months along. I experienced no symptoms…

View original post 1,737 more words

Happy Birthday, Mommie Fail


This is Gabe at chuck e. cheese for his birthday in 2009.

Sometime last week my facebook status read:

Saturday is Gabe’s first birthday party (with other kids)…. We’re BOTH looking forward to it…

…and we were.  This was his very first social event amongst his own peers, some from school and some from the birthday girls’ other friends and family.  I was so, SO excited.  He talked about this party almost every day in the weeks leading up to the day.  He’d say that him and (I’ll say Helen) were going to do this, were going to do that, until I realized that he never mentioned anyone else.  So, I started to bring in the idea, “Honey, you know that there will be other kids there, right?”  “Remember Gabe, this is a party.  There will be other kids from your class there.  Helen will have her family there,” and so on.  He never gave me a hard time, never said he didn’t want to go, still talked about the party.

So, the party was held at Chuck E. Cheese.  Gabe loves to go there and has been there several times, enough times to be comfortable there.  We’ve been there mostly on weekdays, after school and the place is pretty tame.  We’ve also been there on weekends when the numbers of running, screaming kids multiply like nobody’s business.  Still, he never seemed to have a problem.  THIS day, however, there was a problem.  A BIG problem.  I could kick myself in the ASS because I let myself be lulled into the illusion of normalcy.

Mommie Fail:

On that day, Gabe started to say that he was going to sit near me.  He said that he was going to play the games that were near me.  I kinda did get the impression that he was getting nervous but I told him it would be okay and of COURSE I was going to be right there… which I WAS going to be right there.  How involved I was going to be in his activities I was going to leave up to him.  Then right as we pulled into the parking lot, he asked me if I had headphones.  Again, I saw a red flag and I chose to ignore it because, well, we never used headphones for him, but I knew that he used them a couple of times in school.  I just said, “You know we don’t have headphones.”  I don’t know.  I look back now as if I could have done something, but really, we would have still gone inside.  I kept telling myself that he was really excited and looking forward to this party.

Oh shit.  I know I shouldn’t beat myself up over this, but I should have known what it was going to be like inside this place, on a Saturday, at a birthday party for seven and eight year olds.  I was so looking forward to this being a normal, great milestone for my kid.  Okay, I will just list the conditions that awaited us.

  • A very busy Saturday.  There were kids running around, screaming and it was just too overwhelming, even for me.  I did mention that we’ve been to chuck e. cheese on Saturdays but this was crazy.
  • The reserved area for the party, nay several parties, was situated right in front of the stage and speakers, blasting music.  I mean, BLASTING.  This is something I did know.  I’ve seen parties there before.  Again, kick me.
  • Flashing lights and several monitors going at one time.  Again, I know this yet I didn’t think of it being an issue.

Any one of these is pretty annoying within itself, but I did not think of the effect on my son, let alone ALL of these at once.  I feel like such a horrible mother right now.  We’ve been getting really good, positive feedback from school and the social skills groups that I, plain and simple, let my guard down.  I let others, Gabe, and my desire for just a normal life interfere with protecting my son.  Monster Mom.  I was actually looking forward to his next birthday and the possibility of being asked for a party… AND thinking that chuck e. cheese was a good idea.  Oh Nooooo.

I found the table for the party and brought Gabe to at least show our faces and say, “happy birthday” to the little girl.  I spoke with the parents and they were really understanding about the whole thing.  I urged Gabe to say hello, but he was totally shut down at that point.  Sigh.  Attempting to teach manners through a sensory shut down?  Yeah right, hello?  Hello?  Then we left.  All he did manage to say was that he wanted to go to a “nice, quiet place,” so I took him out to the car and we sat there for a little while until he started talking more to me.

The blessing of children is that they will look into your soul and love and trust you no matter what.  He just said, “I told you, mom!”  Yes Hunny Bunny, you did.  I assumed he was talking about headphones because, really I could’ve used them, too.  I know that this is a learning moment for me and I am still soaking up that lesson.  People will say to learn and move on… and I will do that.  But part of that lesson is reflection.  Absorbing how my actions or non-actions affect those around me, especially when I make decisions regarding my precious boy.   It was our first such party and I guess that in the future I will need to do some research to scope out the situations…. Yeah, my kitchen will be my Situation Room where I plan my strategies.

My New Strategy

chuck e. cheese is not a good idea for Gabe’s next birthday…… period

His Name is TONY, Dad~!


First and foremost, this is amazing to me, and that I caught on to it.  This morning we were free to head on over to our diner for breakfast.  I say “our” diner because this is the one that DH has the school discount for.  He always goes there to, 1:  Support a local business, and 2: the school discount gets him 15-20% off the bill…. also, it’s very close to us and that’s a plus.

So we were there today, waiting for our breakfast and I sort of hear, on the peripheral, a conversation happening between the hostess and a man.  I don’t see them, but she calls him ‘Tony’ and all of a sudden Gabe pipes up (he must have been listening, too) and blurts out, “His name is Tony, Dad!”  He was so excited.  I still don’t really know who the guy is and just let it go and never turned around.  I mean, give those people their privacy, right?

So then later on the manager comes over and he says hello.  He always says hello.  Then Gabe says, “Hi, TONY, how are you?”…. and blah blah’s of other stuff he talks about, but then it just clicked that my little guy, who’s been talking to this manager like forever, but I guess without knowing his name, picks up on his name, then immediately uses it in a greeting.  How cool is that!  Now, this might seem trivial to most of you, or all of you; but it’s a pretty BIG damned thing for me. First, I feel so blessed to be able to actually see this in action and then put two and two together, myself.  Usually my boys are out together, but without me to  save some money here and there, but big guy wanted us all to eat out this morning.  Second, part of Gabe’s disability is that his social skills are/were practically non-existent.  I can’t wait to tell the supervisor of the social skills group… I think it’s working!  It’s so wonderful to see this progress in action and taking hold. This coming week is the last week, but then it starts up again when the summer semester at the school starts.  Gabe is also starting to hold the doors open for me and even gesturing with his hands and saying, “come right this way”…. LOL.

Oh, another biggie thing happened at breakfast.  Gabe made an actual egg sandwich all by himself…. what?  Up until now, he always refused a sandwich and has not had eggs in a very long time, since being a toddler.  Out of the blue, he orders an egg, then proceeds to make a sandwich with the toast that was served.  I suspect that he saw me modeling that behavior because I always get scrambled eggs and rye toast, then make a sandwich out of it, which I also did today.

Okay… I just wanted to write that down.   Every year he is making progress and it’s pretty exciting.

Oh hell, am I too “mothery” and not realizing that he’s growing up and can do a lot more than I thought?  I’ve been told that I baby my little guy and I try to keep that in mind, but there are still a lot of things I won’t let him do by himself.  I have no other children to know what is supposed to come next, and then I see all these new things… Just wondering.

Sensory Friendly Theater


 

 

This is Autism Awareness Month and my boy is autistic.

I don’t say that to draw attention to my son being autistic. I write that to draw attention to Autism.

Every post from now on in the month of April, I will start in this way, regardless of content.  I’ve not done much this year I guess because I’m not a good planner, so this is the least I can do.  I have blue shirts and blue nail polish and briefly I contemplated dying my hair blue; but ya know it has no effect if I don’t leave the house.  Sometimes I wonder if there are people out there who will read this and listen…. especially people with the power to change things.  We’ve had little victories here and there, but in general I am disheartened by the apathy of the education system.  It’s either that they don’t give a damn, or maybe they are in a comfort zone they fear to leave.  They have a system and this autism thing just throws a wrench into the works and screws them all up.  I can tell you that when our school decided to form a social skills group, it was on the fly and they don’t even know if they’re doing anything right yet.  I was told that they are creating it as they go along and while I’m glad that they are trying, I’m a little  a LOT worried about how successful their efforts will be.

Well, God will answer our prayers.  In my case, because I’m not good at praying, He sees into my heart and knows what I need even before I know and I trust that.  I received today in Gabe’s backpack, an envelope from his Speech teacher.  Inside was a press release from the Union County Office of Public Information, announcing a new Sensory Friendly Theater series of performances specially designed for children with autism and related disabilities at the Union County Performing Arts Center in Rahway, NJ.  The notice is entitled: “Union County Offers Theater Program for Children with Autism and Related Disabilities.”  This is what caught my eye:

The new series, which begins on June 10 with Tom Chapin and Friends, is designed according to guidelines that help to reduce disturbances for youngsters who experience heightened sensory sensitivity. The Performing Arts Center is committed to a creating a judgment-free zone with plenty of trained specialists who understand autism and similar disabilities.

A sports program for the autistic child, it is not; and I personally would LOVE such a sports program.  Seriously though, I wouldn’t care if this was a special program for making 10′ snowmen on a hot July afternoon.  I’m in a state of elation right now because these are exactly the types of considerations our kids absolutely need in order to benefit from their participation.  Adults who have training and understand autism (and similar disabilities) are absolutely essential for a successful program such as this.  There is a lot more to this notice, but I keep coming back to the above words:  “judgment-free zone, trained specialists, understand autism.”  The sad fact is that our school professionals are officially none of these things.  Let me just stop right here and say that this in no way diminishes the teaching abilities of these professionals.  I think, as teachers, we are very lucky to have who we have, however…..   My experience with school professionals working with my boy:  Compassionate, yes.  Patient, yes.  Accommodating, yes (so far).  But even our Special Ed teacher is not trained to understand autism.  Why is that?  Well, she got her degree way back in I don’t know what decade and has had no other education to bring her uptodate on Autism or any (similar disability)… umm that really, no, REALLY doesn’t sit right with me.  I think I can be fairly certain of that because I’ve asked whether she had training and I never received an affirmative answer or any qualifiable answer.  Soooo, what would you think?  I’ve advocated to the principal, political candidates for office who come to our door, and anyone who’d listen, and even at a town meeting that it’s imperrative that our teachers be educated to understand autism.  I feverently believe that it’s not just unfair to ask our children to be put into a classroom with adults who don’t understand them; but it’s also unfair to put teachers into that same room with the knowledge, tools and strategies to educate these kids and navigate the myriad of possible disruptions that can occur.  So you see, I have reason to feel disheartened.  Anyone who comes to this door will continue to get an earful and I suppose will regret knocking on our particular door…. oh well.  SO to get this news today gave me a little hope.

I’d also like to share with you the person responsible, Union County Freeholder Chairman Alexander Mirabella.  I won’t replicate the whole announcement here, but here is a link at NJtoday.  If you’d like to call for information, here the number to call: 732-499-8226… OR here’s the link to Sensory Friendly Theater web page

Autism: The Life 2012


Last night my head was swirling around with ideas, but as always when it gets time to write them down, I’m a blank.  So, I’ll do what I always do, write.  Write down the strands of thought that surround my head like a maiden’s soft, light hair that moves with the breeze in a surreal kind of way.  Yes, I’m awake and hope you have the inclination to stay with me.

When we first leaned that our boy was autistic, I was devastated.  For him and for us.  We were new parents, well not “new” exactly, but he is our first and only one, which will probably remain that way since we are in our early and mid fifties.  We didn’t think we’d have him (if you’d like to read those details, you can look here) in the first place, so after seven years, I’m not so sure that God has another one in His plan for us.  In a way, I’m relieved as it would be a hardship, both financially and probably physically; but I do wish that our Gabe could have a brother or sister.   Not too long ago, he’d ask for one, almost constantly; and even now, he looks at my belly and asks if I’m pregnant…. oh boy.  Which reminds me of a most embarrassing couple of moments over this weekend at a hotel we were staying at for a wedding.  We walked by the hotel’s lounge and there was a man there with a huge gut.  Quite out of the blue, Gabe said, rather loudly, “Hey MOM, that guy’s PREGNANT!”  Well, I tried to ignore what he said which was a pretty bad mistake as he kept repeating himself all the louder because he didn’t think I heard him the first time, “MOOOM….”  It was all I could do to muzzle him and get him out the front door.   I tried to explain to him that saying things like that were inappropriate and tried to explain the concept of being insulted… think I failed with that, too.  This has not been the first time he’s brought the concept of men being pregnant as he has frequently expressed his belief that HE was pregnant just because he ate more than usual, gaining a pretty big belly.   He’d lift up his shirt, pointed to his belly and say, “MOM, I’m almost pregnant~!”  Now, THAT was funny.  Still, I had a hard time explaining that men and boys do not get pregnant, only women.  He’s not asked me what exactly that is “yet”, and I’m grateful.  After I thought I did a decent job explaining that men do not get pregnant, I was validated because the next day, we saw that man again and Gabe said (all too loudly), “MOM, there’s that man with the BIG belly~!”  Um… Yep.

Still, the incident, not surprisingly, had me pretty upset even though I tried not to impress that upon him, I’m sure that I did.  I’m maybe too obsessed about weight, or looks being singled out for laughs.  I’m quite positive that wasn’t the intent, but I’m still pretty sensitive to that and don’t want Gabe growing up, insulting people no matter what the intent.  He needs to learn this very differently than most kids do.  Even though we know that autistic children can learn social manners, it’s not so simple.  They do not pick up on social cues like the rest of us can, instinctually.  They need to be presented with the concept and they learn it much like an academic lesson in school and they need to practice it over and over.  They may never empathize, but they can learn to understand intellectually how important it is to learn and practice; but they may never truly “feel” that importance.  I’m not even sure that Gabe will ever learn to walk in anothers shoes, which has always been important to me, in my learning.  I always felt the need to REALLY understand things and, indeed, I’ve rarely followed through with  anything unless I truly understood to my own satisfaction the importance of whatever it was.

WHAT ARE SOCIAL SKILLS?

Social Skills are a set of behaviors that allow a child to get along better with other people.  A child with adequate social skills can adjust well to changes in his environment and can avoid verbal and physical confrontations with other people. A child who has poorly developed social skills, however, may have poor self-esteem, may display conduct problems (fighting, arguing, defying adults), and may have difficulty developing peer relationships.

WHAT IS A SOCIAL SKILLS GROUP?

Social skills groups focus on teaching children a variety of social skills to help improve their ability to make and keep friends, develop more self-confidence, and behave more appropriately.  Role-plays and group interaction will give the children opportunities to practice these skills during the group session.  The therapist will utilize behavioral reinforcement to promote rule compliance, participation, and use of appropriate social skills, while also encouraging and reinforcing the children to practice these skills outside of the session.  Objective information regarding the children’s behavior will be gathered before and after the group to measure the children’s progress and parents will be provided with written feedback at the conclusion of each group.

We are truly blessed to have gotten Gabe into a social skills group.  Please see the above for a good description.  This is where they learn behaviors which are so-called socially accepted behaviors.  The problem is that though they may try to interact with their peers, they never learned how to do that, as other children have learned and that is by picking up on the silent social cues and body language.  They don’t intuit what is the appropriate, recognizable response or non-response to what the other child/peer displays.  Also, Gabe’s group is a group of peers.  They see it as play and I’m sure Gabe thinks it’s a play date.

Gabe is seven years old now and maybe that’s too young to learn about how/why a person can be insulted.  I ended up repeating myself about the man maybe getting insulted, but then I realized that he probably has no what that would mean.  I am dedicated to keeping open communications with him.  He knows that whatever his question is, I will listen and I am frequently urging him to share his thoughts.  He knows that I will urge him to just tell me his thoughts.  Most times I’ve got to admit that I don’t really understand what comes out of his head, but I’ve learned to ask questions so that he’d have to elaborate on what he’s thinking.  I’ve also had to learn when to just let it be when that doesn’t seem possible.  Sometimes I grieve for the lack of communication and understanding.  Lots of times I feel a total disconnect.  I grieve because I’ve always dreamed of being a mom much different from my own mom.  She was totally unapproachable and I never opened up to her or she to me.  My dream was to have a totally different relationship with my children.  Open communication all the way.  If you can’t do that, what the heck kind of relationship IS that, anyway?  I am learning that Gabe conveys more to me than words ever could.  He is my teacher and has been from the first moment he took his first breath.  That is a post within itself.  So, Gabe is teaching me that not all relationships are the same.  Huh?  Didn’t I know that already?  Apparently not.

One last paragraph.  There are so many facets to Autism.  Just like the disorder, itself, there are so many areas of specialty, so many areas that really need to be improved, that really need the attention of the professionals and people just like you.  It’s totally overwhelming, so I take it in little bites.  The area I find myself focusing on lately is how badly our teachers NEED to be educated about autism.  Yet, our schools will fight to the death to stay in denial.  They refuse to acknowledge that intervention services are needed for the autistic child to get an “appropriate” education.  Forgive me, but mention the word “quality” and “education” together and you can kiss any intervention service good bye.   Does that make sense?  I have to ask because I’m not college educated, you know.  Total idiocy!  No matter how much compassion a teacher has, if he/she is not trained to recognize and deal with any problems that arise, not given the strategies they need to handle the tough situations, they will just end up feeling frustrated and might even label a child with a negative label, even… YES… even the label of BULLY.  This of course, would most likely stem from ignorance, but does anyone want this to happen?  I know I don’t.  My own son could be labeled as a bully because he tried, in his own “socially unacceptable” way, to make friends with another boy or just trying to get someone’s attention, again in his own way.  Maybe that need for attention was misinterpreted as bullying…. and I do see how that can happen.  I can see my son being confused and feeling rejected and may be even push the other kid in an attempt to gain their attention and maybe friendship.  Nobody and I mean nobody would see it that way in the mainstream world.   I’ve been through a rough patch lately with a mainstream mother verbalizing in front of me that she would not want her typical kid in the same class as my little guy.  That hurt a LOT.  It was only after a lot of hurt that I realized that she was probably severely uneducated, maybe misguided  even as she strives on a daily basis to project her highly educated personality.  The sad fact is that EVERYONE is in dire need to be educated, teachers, typical children, typical moms and dads.  So, maybe my focus should be on wholesale education for everyone… you can’t be overly educated, can you?

What Can We Bring?


Yep still in Lorax mode... Hoping to pull it off this weekend.

A quickie post to note that even though last weekend was Little Drake’s birthday, THIS weekend will be the celebration.  He’s been asking about all his cousins prior to last weekend AND this week.  He’s so used to seeing his cousins for birthdays, for his birthday and it must be a little strange for him.  I get it.  Anyway, I should’ve gotten into the cleaning yesterday and today, but have not done a thing because of crampiness…. there, I’ve said it.  Tomorrow, is D-day, however and crankiness, fatigue, cramps-be-damned, I’ve got to clean (do I have to?)  Yes, dammit.  Oh, landlord working on the bathroom tiles sort of gave me a pass for staying out of there for two days, but again, tomorrow will be a different story.  Plus, I can never bring myself to clean for an event until almost right before people come.  Oh, I’ll declutter key clutter spots, put things away and stuff; but actually cleaning gets done last minute…. why is that?  Well, for starters, this place is a perpetual dust magnet.  I used to think that it’s like that because we live in the city, but all winter our windows are closed.  I’ve asked the landlord to check the boiler, thinking that maybe soot is coming up from there, but I’ve been told that it’s fine.  It just seems that two days after I dust, it’s got to be done again, and shit, I’m not dusting every day.

 

To Do List for Friday:

  • Wash Floors
  • Wash Bathroom
  • Vacuum (late in the day)
  • Dust (very late in the day, scheduled for midnight)
  • Make Pita Chips and Dip

 

So last week, as part of his present, I took LD to see the Lorax movie.  You can read about that here.  He’s all Loraxed up, wanting everything Lorax.  Another planned birthday gift was getting him the Lorax book, so we made a little excursion to the bookstore.  He totally enjoyed that because the book store has a Thomas the Tank Engine play table.  Listen for British accent, “Hello, Thomas!” 

Last minute change after all my planning via Pinterest:  convert Lego cake to Lorax cake.  Was planning on doing it myself before The Drake threw me a curve ball, the intention being to make it easier on me for party day, and ordered a sheet cake that was Lorax theme, but with a photograph as the focal point and well, that’s not my style.  I was planning on getting fondant and really making a nice cake myself, I was feeling it.  I AM doing it at some point.  So the weird thing is that locally, there is NOTHING Lorax out there by way of little toys or anything that I can use to accessorize this cake.  I thought for sure that the stores would be overflowing with Lorax merchandise… Target? Nope, Toys R Us?  Nada.  I have a feeling that if Target doesn’t have anything, that Walmart will not, either.  Something’s up and I’m wondering about it.  Don’t think there’s time to  find a free pattern and knit a lorax that small… just don’t have the time.  I’m actually thinking about getting some of that orange clay stuff you can put into the oven.. hmmm  Have no idea where to find cotton candy for the truffula trees… Might do pom poms, but I’m keen on cotton candy!  Maybe it’s just too close to the opening weekend?  Maybe the store companies weren’t sure how big the Lorax was going to be?  BIG, baby!  I loved it.

Oh, so getting to the title.  Friends and family, please do NOT bring anything on Saturday.  Plenty of food… unless you want to bring me chocolate, feel free to walk in empty handed… no that’s mandatory!

OH… so look what I just found:  Free Lorax Garden app in the apple store…. Still free, but price can change at any time.

oooo… Someone found cotton candy in the Easter Section… Look so cute!

 

 

So here I am, still up… well, actually, I had a kind of a longish nap today- around a three hour one.  Crampiness will do that to ya, and it removes the danger from your loved ones.

 

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far


Don’t be afraid.  This is just me from this past Halloween and I totally enjoyed making myself up for the day.  Now, it sort of fits my feelings.  This post will be written as a specific comment for Jess’ post on “Diary of a Mom” blog in which she chronicals her family’s experiences, specifically with autism.  I am responding to her post entitled, “I See Myself”, without taking up too much space in her comments, which is kinda inevitable at this point as my middle name is “Tangent” and at least here, I can go as far away as I want… hee hee.  I almost did not read it because I’ve been rushing through my delayed morning routine which is to go through my morning emails and community sites I frequent before getting into much needed knitting this week.  I read this post and saw myself and had to stop myself to breath.  I am forever seeing myself, as she has.  I’ve seen myself even before my son was diagnosed, but never knew it to be Autism.  I mean, I see myself as being fine.  Different, but fine.  I grew up in the sixties and if I were diagnosed back then, it might have been for retardation, not autism and my life would most certainly be very different…. I don’t like to think about that.  As a matter of fact, I don’t like to think about anything.  As far back as I can remember, I could just sit there for hours, just staring off into space without a single thought.  I still have these times, but not as much because, I suspect, solely because I have a computer with internet.  Games? NO… My vice is just surfing from one site to the next without much thought or concentration.  I LOVE information, and that is what I get though I rarely take the time to read each thing through… really.   Wow, sort of the same thing except it’s external.

Jess, I know what you’re going through.  The difference is that I’ve lived my whole life painfully knowing that I was strange, weird; and it was unexplained.  I yearned to be normal, accepted as normal, make friends and be comfortable with them.  I was acutely aware that I should look people in the eye, yet never could seem to get my eyes to accept my will.  People judged me as being stuck up.  Stuck up?  I wondered how anyone could think that when I lived without the “things” in my life that I thought were instrumental for that assessment in other people, people I judged…. and it went on and on.

Eventually, I learned to compensate, but I was always criticized, chided by family for not seeking out peers, for being a wallflower, for never “making an appearance” when we had company in the house.  I’d spend summers holed up in the basement, pursuing my interests, instead of being outside with the other kids on our block.  I had a miserable school experience (I always have to add that in), but then later on, when I started working, I realized that I would meet people that didn’t know me and I could be whoever I wanted to be.  I did that, but I soon realized that I’d have to spend time with friends if I wanted to HAVE friends… lol.  How was I going to do that if I could not even hold a conversation without stuttering, without running?  To this day I absolutely love to entertain gatherings, I find that I have a LOT of things to do in the kitchen, away from the people.  It’s my refuge in some ways.  I’m comforted by doing, preparing food and serving.  This past Christmas, I was almost bodily forced to sit down with my own family.

I can remember one New Year’s Eve party.  I was with a bunch of people, most of whom I did know.  This was in the late nineties.  I can remember not wanting to be the center of attention, I was cringing, I was frantically looking around, I was on the verge of what I can only assume was a melt down.  I was shaking with pins and needles exploding into my skin.  The irony of this is that I definitely was NOT the center of attention.  As a matter of fact, I was not being noticed at all, a fly on the wall, sitting at a table, all alone.  Yet, I burst from the room, into a bathroom stall–pretending.  I was in my mid thirties and it was this night that, after 5 minutes or so, after the clock struck midnight, I first forced myself out of there to intentionally mingle.  I tried to look normal, but felt far from it.  I left soon after, but still, this was a good idea, I thought.  I could accept and allow myself that social break when I needed it, but after 5 minutes I’d come back to people.

My own flashbacks include my dear hubby from the time our son was born, routinely would almost force me out of the house at least once a week to get out and take time off away from being a mom.  He never wakes me up to get our son ready for school.  Does he know something even from way back then that I am totally oblivious to?  Believe me, he has his own demons, yet he either strives to make life easier for me OR he is merely sticking to his own routine which is so deeply embedded inside him.  I like to actively believe the former.  Jess, to this day I’ve never made it to the doctor’s office to discuss this possibility and probably won’t for a good long time.  Heck, before my son got diagnosed, I thought I would be judged as a hypochondriac.  Jess, that took a lot of guts and I’m inspired.

Last year I read “Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s” by John Elder Robison (little did I know that, at will, I would remember and spell his name correctly)  I linked to the author’s blog.  I don’t like it that Amazon has a monopoly on book links.  I’d rather give the reader a little more than just the obvious.   I gained a lot of insight into my son and myself from this book; and hopefully, it’s the template for future insights into myself.

Not sure if I should continue so I’ll stop dead in my tracks.  It’s been my experience that I will repeat myself over and over, word for word because I wasn’t sure if I had anything more to say, but just felt that I should keep talking… and well, got nowhere for that effort.  Oh maybe I got somewhere.  I zeroed in to the Weird Zone.

 

edited to add:

Okay, of course immediately after posting, I decided that I’m not finished talking.  There IS more I’d like to say. More about how I’ve adapted and more about the positives.  Maybe these ideas belong in separate posts, so this is a good thing……

Memories Are Necessary


My mom and me Nov 1961 (left) My mother before the nastiness of early motherhood (right)

I posted a bit yesterday about a life lesson that I’m all caught up in right now, Some Life Lessons.  It’s been a long time in the making, but this will hopefully be a short follow up.

I just wanted to add another thought, something that I had forgotten over the years.  If you’ve read some of the earlier posts of my blog, you will have gathered that for most of my life I did not have a good relationship with my mother.  She was  distant, cold and definitely unapproachable.  I have come to understand how and why this was so; but that does not help the little girl inside who longed for and needed to be shown the love that I know (now) she must have felt.  I’ll try to be brief and describe a little background.

When I was born, it was 9 months and two days after my parent’s marriage.  All the women of the family were counting the days on their fingers from the day of the marriage and my birth, hence how I know the exact number of days.  That was back in 1961, she was 22 years old and the times were not as relaxed now about getting pregnant before marriage and, well, things were pretty stressful for my mom.  Add on to that the pregnancy was in danger with hemorrhaging and from the second month, my mother was on complete bed rest.  When I was born, I had stuff wrong with me.  The one I’ll talk about because I believe that it shaped my mother, and I can imagine hardened her, gave her a tough skin and eventually, she closed herself off to feeling, experiencing the hard emotions.  I was born with a condition, probably arising from my constant position in the womb, of my head and neck being scrunched down onto my chest.  The doctor told my parents that it would amount to a hunched back as I grew up if not treated.  I became part of an experimental treatment.. and I am even proudly in some medical journal somewhere.  It was prescribed that I would receive muscular therapy.  It was a very painful process of stretching my neck (and probably shoulder/back) muscles.  A nurse had to come to the house and teach my mother what to do.  She was to lay her infant (me) on the edge of the kitchen table, with my head hanging off of it.  She then had to proceed to gently twist my head from side to side.  I was told that this was very painful to me and I can imagine how my mother must have felt having to do this to me.  I can imagine the pain she felt and yet knowing that if her daughter ever had a chance to grow up “normal”, she had to inflict this horrible pain onto her.  I must have been screaming.  My mother was also probably alone in this because my dad was working 2-3 jobs.  Sometimes two, sometimes three.  There were other things, too, like a bright red, pot-marked area on the left side of my face and two clubbed feet, which were two inwardly turned feet and legs.  After I was born, I needed to have casts on my legs up to my hips in the (successful) attempt to straighten out my legs.  So, as you can see, I was born a literal mess.  Oh crud, it wasn’t until I became a mother in my mid forties I could not fully understand the pain and stress my mother went through with me and during my growing years.  To be honest, I was the source of a lot of pain for her during the eight years between my mid twenties to mid thirties.  So that is a little bit of background.

So, my mom hardly if ever showed us any affection.  To make matters a little worse, I was not interested in the typical things that bonded mothers and daughters, like talking about home decorating, cooking and the like.  BUT, one time, a year or so before she passed on, we were talking.  I was in my late thirties and our relationship had recently gotten a lot better.  I was able to communicate with my mother on the level of peers, not as mother daughter, or I should say not as mother, authority figure and blindly obedient daughter.  We communicated honestly and we respected what the other had to say.  It was a time I felt that I could honestly just say what I thought and had no fear of doing that… also, it was a time when my self confidence was on the upsurge, the first one in my whole life.  Well, on day we were talking and she told me that I was special and that I should never forget that.  I seem to remember that not being the only time she said that, but I don’t remember that time very well.  I remember this time.  I remember bodily freezing and fighting my hardest hold back the tears…. not like now.

I just wish that I knew then what I know now.   What pain she suffered just to make me a “normal” kid, girl, woman.  She was much as I am now.  No income of her own, though she worked before having me.  I am so much in debt to her for what she has done for me.  I can understand now how and why you became so cold and seemingly to me, unfeeling; and it’s that understanding that will lead me to be a good mom in my own right.  It was survival.  It was something that I’m sure was not an intentional thing.  I totally get that.  I’m glad now that you just did what you had to do to carry on the business of raising two girls in your tradition.  I understand and that comforts me.  I can’t sit here and wish things were different.  I’m really grateful for the time we had together during the brief years at the end of your life.   I’d want you to know that your actions have now given me the courage and strength to, in turn, do what I now have to do for my son, the grandson that you never got to know on earth.

Thanks so much, MOM.

%d bloggers like this: