Me: I think I'm going to kill Soapy Water.
Me: But you love Soapy Water. You at least have to keep the archives!
Me: But the archives make me want to cringe. All that bloviating about the "idiots" at The Kid's schools, all the "thank God for psychiatric medications..." It's just a big emblem of the wrong path, the lost years...
Me: And yet, that's what got you and The Kid here.
Me: But where are we? Who wants to read about it?
Me: You know people will read it, the people who love you will.
Me: Yeah, we can't all be as famous as Mr. Lady. But the posts aren't coming out any more. I'm too self aware. I've lost that voice, I've certainly lost all semblance of hip-mom that seems to be prerequisite for mom-blogging.
Me: Dude, you were never "hip."
Me: True. But I thought I was. I have lost something. I can't describe it. And I'm suddenly gunshy. I can't be as opinionated as I once was, ever since every assertion I made about The Kid being bipolar turned out to be The Kid reacting poorly to the meds he was on, not at all bipolar.
Me: Yeah, and then the Asperger's Diagnosis.
Me: Autism Spectrum. I'm a newbie. I'm at a loss. I don't know anything, I'm fumbling around in the dark with what to do. And then there's the fear that just because the Asperger's fits today, it all makes some sense, I know in my heart of hearts I made bipolar fit, like a world view to help me fight. What if I'm wrong about this one too?
Me: But you read the books and you see those similarities. Your friends, all their stories. The years where he didn't sleep, even without meds screwing up his circadian rythyms, the hard times with haircuts and dentists, the vocal self-stimulatory behavior, the narrow interests, the hyper-focus, the social stuff, the sensory stuff. And don't forget the approach.
Me: The approach to Asperger's is the thing that makes me confident in his treatment, that's for sure. If the child is acting out, or seeking sensory stimuli, to what aim? What is the root cause of the behavior? Isn't that the best question ever?
Me: It's my favorite. After years and years of "if he's acting out, let's increase his dosage another .5 miligrams." I think you need to leave the old behind and start a new chapter. Part II of sorts, without moving the actual website, or so I hear...
Me: Part II. I guess it's worth a try. I can't promise anything.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Nasty.
So, this is one for the story books.
The Kid is all shifty eyed and anxious last night. I ask him what he's up to. He flails and avoids me for about an hour. He comes up to me at about 6:30 and says, I can't even tell you what I did. Just go to my room and look in my toybox.
What am I going to find? A severed head? A hideous stain on his nice pants? Something dear to me cut up to pieces? Who knows, but I know one thing. This ain't good, my friends.
I go down and open the toybox. A hideous stench hits me, and there is nothing in the toybox but one of my bigger pyrex bowls, filled with a nasty yellowish water. You know that part in The Shining when he goes into that bathroom and finds the scary dead body in the bathtub? That comes screaming to mind and I freak out and run out of the room and go get him.
WHAT IS THAT? I ask.. He says, look on the bottom. We go back to the toybox, I pick up the bowl gingerly, so as to spill none of this who-knows-what on, well, anything, and lift it up to look at the bottom of the bowl. There is nastiness on the bottom of the bowl, but I still don't know what the frak it is.
WHAT IS THIS, KID? I say with restrained rage, wondering if I now need to worry about him being a sociopath or something. The Kid replies, "You know in Spongebob the movie how they come back to life with water?"
It instantly comes to me. My mom has a propensity towards tchochkes. I HATE them, but there is shit all over this house, loads of nativity scenes (we are sooo catholic), little pottery pieces and vases, bowls with rocks in them, and then there's this one pretty little round glass vase, filled with shells, sand dollars and yes, a starfish. Or rather, there used to be a starfish in that little round vase. The Kid was trying to revive my mom's dried starfish. A dried starfish I have a feeling she picked up decades ago during a family vacation before I was even born. I made him dump the water out and clean the bowl. Nasty nasty nasty. It smelled like, oh, ancient saltwater and rancid liver mixed together or something. We both wretched about 12 times. It was by far, the most disgusting thing I've encountered as a parent, and you have to remember, I'm the mom of the kid who puked almost daily for four years. I'd clean buckets full of vomit before I ever, ever have to encounter re-wetted ancient dried starfish, ever again. Oy.
Oh, and for the record? I have no idea when he performed this operation. I have NO IDEA how long the starfish was in that bowl, in his toybox, in his room. Ew.
The Kid is all shifty eyed and anxious last night. I ask him what he's up to. He flails and avoids me for about an hour. He comes up to me at about 6:30 and says, I can't even tell you what I did. Just go to my room and look in my toybox.
What am I going to find? A severed head? A hideous stain on his nice pants? Something dear to me cut up to pieces? Who knows, but I know one thing. This ain't good, my friends.
I go down and open the toybox. A hideous stench hits me, and there is nothing in the toybox but one of my bigger pyrex bowls, filled with a nasty yellowish water. You know that part in The Shining when he goes into that bathroom and finds the scary dead body in the bathtub? That comes screaming to mind and I freak out and run out of the room and go get him.
WHAT IS THAT? I ask.. He says, look on the bottom. We go back to the toybox, I pick up the bowl gingerly, so as to spill none of this who-knows-what on, well, anything, and lift it up to look at the bottom of the bowl. There is nastiness on the bottom of the bowl, but I still don't know what the frak it is.
WHAT IS THIS, KID? I say with restrained rage, wondering if I now need to worry about him being a sociopath or something. The Kid replies, "You know in Spongebob the movie how they come back to life with water?"
It instantly comes to me. My mom has a propensity towards tchochkes. I HATE them, but there is shit all over this house, loads of nativity scenes (we are sooo catholic), little pottery pieces and vases, bowls with rocks in them, and then there's this one pretty little round glass vase, filled with shells, sand dollars and yes, a starfish. Or rather, there used to be a starfish in that little round vase. The Kid was trying to revive my mom's dried starfish. A dried starfish I have a feeling she picked up decades ago during a family vacation before I was even born. I made him dump the water out and clean the bowl. Nasty nasty nasty. It smelled like, oh, ancient saltwater and rancid liver mixed together or something. We both wretched about 12 times. It was by far, the most disgusting thing I've encountered as a parent, and you have to remember, I'm the mom of the kid who puked almost daily for four years. I'd clean buckets full of vomit before I ever, ever have to encounter re-wetted ancient dried starfish, ever again. Oy.
Oh, and for the record? I have no idea when he performed this operation. I have NO IDEA how long the starfish was in that bowl, in his toybox, in his room. Ew.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Three year blog-aversary
I just passed it last Weds. Remember when I used to be a blogger? As my friend Shannon would say, Bygones.
I can't right now look back on the last three years. It's kind of a painful exercise. We took a wild detour and are just now on the right course again. I wish I could travel back in time and tell my three-years-ago self to check out the things I know now, but that simply can't happen. Let's focus on the here and now.
Um, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise. I need to go to bed tonight, and I've promised myself to write again.
Babysteps, people.
I can't right now look back on the last three years. It's kind of a painful exercise. We took a wild detour and are just now on the right course again. I wish I could travel back in time and tell my three-years-ago self to check out the things I know now, but that simply can't happen. Let's focus on the here and now.
Um, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise. I need to go to bed tonight, and I've promised myself to write again.
Babysteps, people.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Check it.
New masthead! So soapy!
Brought to you by my marvelously talented friend Julie, who has an Etsy site, and I'm anxiously awaiting a link. As soon as I get it, I will share. You want this woman to design your Christmas Cards.
Other blog news, my dear friend Mr. Lady somehow bribed Guy, who runs Alltop, to add me to his autism blogroll. Yeah, we're kind of a big deal.
Edited to add:
Julie's etsy site: http://www.mammakins.etsy.com/
Also, I hope she doesn't mind me saying, she is one of the most inspirational mama's I've ever known. She is full time working mom, a student, a graphic designer, advocate and mama to one of the sweetest little dudes I've ever laid eyes on, who has a gentle loving heart and autism.
Brought to you by my marvelously talented friend Julie, who has an Etsy site, and I'm anxiously awaiting a link. As soon as I get it, I will share. You want this woman to design your Christmas Cards.
Other blog news, my dear friend Mr. Lady somehow bribed Guy, who runs Alltop, to add me to his autism blogroll. Yeah, we're kind of a big deal.
Edited to add:
Julie's etsy site: http://www.mammakins.etsy.com/
Also, I hope she doesn't mind me saying, she is one of the most inspirational mama's I've ever known. She is full time working mom, a student, a graphic designer, advocate and mama to one of the sweetest little dudes I've ever laid eyes on, who has a gentle loving heart and autism.
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