tagging

so i got tagged in another meme...




the lovely Jen over at Living Life with a Side of Autism (a seriously great blog, people--check her out!) decided to tag me in her attempt at underachievement. So i'm supposed to give you 7 facts about myself--heretofore unmentioned.

hmmmmm

1. i am not perfect at it, but i really dig on keeping a clean house. Actually i live in fear of becoming a hoarder, so keeping the house neat and tidy (and empty) makes me feel sane.

2. I really hate folding laundry. I have no problem sorting, washing, hell, i even hang it outside to dry. But there is just something about folding that makes me avoid it.

3. I don't like, or "get" iced coffee. I mean, what IS the point?

4. i view buying bread as a personal failure. Unless it's from the bakery outlet for half the price.

5. i hate talking on the phone. and i've been like this LONG before the advent of texting. And thank G-d for texting.

6. I consider myself a solitary witch. And a Jew. I don't find them to be mutually exclusive. I'm sure my rabbi would disagree. None of my witch friends would, though.

7. i miss trees. but not mold.

now i'm supposed to tag 10 people for this--but i'm not sure i can even name ten bloggers i know that haven't already been tagged for this, so imma name a few that prolly don't follow my blog, and those who do? heh heh.

1. Jen at Unedited
2. Paddy over at Flusterkuff
3. Tulpen at Bad Words
4. Debi at HuntersLyonesse
5. Jodi at The Mean Mom

a new thingy

so, Not Just Another Mother Blogger just brought this to my attention, and it sounds interesting. and i loves me a good writing challenge to keep those creative juices flowing. TOmorrow starts "A". That one, i think will be pretty easy.

join me back here tomorrow! I'm off to look up words that begin with F...

scrilla!

Well, its official. I can now claim the title "writer" as an actual profession!

Today, when i picked up the mail, I got my first check for words scribbled on paper. An actual check. Someone thought it was a good idea to give me money to write nonsense.

awesome!

As some of you may not know, because you haven't been paying attention to the umpteen FB notices I've made, I recently published a piece with Chicken Soup for the Soul. No--not the "my cat's life" issue--which is a goddamn shame--but for the "new moms" edition. Someone, somewhere, 9 months pregnant and wishing that her ankles would just fucking STOP SWELLING, will open this book as the ubiquitous shower gift, thumb through it once or twice and put it in her next yard sale. *sigh* kinda dreamy, huh?

And don't think i'm done with them! I'm working on another awesome piece of blather that is sure to make every mother over the age of 46 cry like a baby. Or maybe just John Boehner.

Professional! woot! Just try and stop me! (well, at least wait until i deposit the check...)

btw, the company gave me a bunch of copies to sell, in case you know someone who needs a coaster or paperweight...

Blog Gems #12

I love it when i find out there's a new blog hop entry available when i have NOTHING to write about--or the energy, time or wherewithall to actually come up with somethign new and creative. This blog Gem is to air an old favorite. This was a favorite blog post of mine early on in my blog--and Ben's diagnosis. Something clicked in me when i wrote it, and i felt--i don't know--a little more peaceful about the whole thing, even thought the post itself recieved NOT ONE COMMENT! *sob*

Thanks Krista for helping me flesh out my thoughts on this one so long ago at your kitchen table:

Friendships

The Dictatorship

The folks at Parents magazine, after being hollered at by a number of parents for NOT having an issue dedicated to Autism for April, have opened up a request for blog entries to describe life with Autism. You can follow that link here... so here was my attempt at 500 words. (yeah right)

I was trying to figure out how to describe our life with Autism, struggling to find the analogy that fits our life. Then I turned on the news and realized: living with Autism is like living in a country ruled by a crazy dictator.

Now, I won't name names here, but the headlines have been full of certain leaders with questionable wardrobes and domestic policies that make us all scratch our head in wonder and rage, “Who is this guy, and how can he have been in power for so long?!?”

You see, for the most part, our world seems like any other. We get up everyday and get ready for pre-school. My son greets the bus driver with a giant smile. After school he enjoys a classic PB&J and watches Blues Clues. Like any other kid, right?

Except that the morning routine must be adhered to with utmost strictness lest we fall prey to a near-nuclear meltdown, his bus isn't quite as long, his sandwich must be cut into exactly four squares, and there are only one or two episodes of Blues Clues he will actually endure.

On some days even the strictest adherence to this despot’s routine won’t make the frustrations, screaming, and violence go away. Other days can be a maelstrom of sensory overload, communication issues, and absolute frustration with life—a veritable crowding of the city square to protest this disorder and its inequities. And you never know when that dictator is going to open fire on his own people, terrorizing your world while leaving the rest of the planet gob smacked. One day is fair and sunny, with sweet, charming smiles and Lionel Richie concerts, and the next day you will be accused of adding drugs to your Nescafe and practicing sedition.

Seriously, you never know what Autism is gonna bring.

So you learn to live simply, in the moment, learning to rebuild quickly because you also know that each firefight will have an end, and you'll still be the wounded soldier making the hummus in the morning while HE wakes with a cheery smile, not even recalling last night’s uprising.

In those quiet moments when Autism finally sleeps or retreats, you sit and hope--hope that SOMEONE will recognize what you are living through and help. That if you wave your flag enough, the rest of the world will stand to attention and start launching their missiles to help get Autism under control. That if you make your struggles known to other parents, they might occasionally have enough empathy to stop building that new addition to their royal palace just long enough to help you keep one wall standing.

This is what we are fighting for, waiting for, praying for; that some sort of UN coalition will recognize our struggle and raise their voices as well. 1 in 110. That's how many American kids have Autism. And Autism isn't just something that will go away. Those diagnosed, like my son, will struggle with this for the rest of his life. This dictator will not be unseated by an invading force and a no-fly zone. But with the right supports, and worldwide awareness, we can get him under our own control. In the end, that's all we want--a few more hands to make easy this burden. A research donation is nice, but what we really need is empathy and offers to help just a bit; to arrange a play date with your neuro-typical kid or just drop by to help fold some laundry and share your war stories with someone outside your bunker…and to not judge us with disapproving glares and remarks when my child sometimes cries more than you find appropriate.

A little help can make a big difference to a parent who’s already digging deep to give more than they can. Enjoy the roof of your beautiful palace during the rain, just once in a while notice that we still only have one wall standing.

Patience

I've never really been a patient person. Oh, I can feign patience with the best of them, and even convince myself sometimes that I've got a smidge of it. But really I don't. I hate people driving in front of me, being ahead of me in line, other people actually speaking out loud, price checks, cocktail parties with people for whom I have no respect, and anything that involves waiting for another person or mode of transportation. The Old Man can tell you, I am the worst until we actually get on the plane/train/automobile.

But it isn't just waiting. I've got no…how do I put it…I do not suffer fools gladly. I have a REAL lack of patience when it comes to stupid people. Now of course I don't mean the uneducated or people who necessarily think differently than I do--but I REALLY cannot handle people who are speaking from ignorance as if they are geniuses and DEMANDING that I agree with them. It’s a wonder I've lasted this long on FB. I strive to be patient with others daily hourly minute by Oh, for godsakes, I try, ok? Some days are better than others, and on those days, I try to stay indoors. But I swear, if one more person says ANYTHING…

And YET

Even though it never feels like I'm being patient enough, I feel like Ben has taught me more about patience than I'll ever learn. I mean, he has these days--like today--in which NOTHING is working right, which involves a scream or 20, and he decides that he wants a sandwich, and then he doesn't, and then he does again, and he spins himself into a frenzy, and he scripts and scripts and scripts, and he hits and kicks, and he looks at me with those big eyes as if begging for me to fix it, even though he has no idea what "it" is. And even though it can be everything for me not to break down into tears before him because he's breaking my heart, somewhere I've learned to just hold his hand, or draw him into a hug(if that's what he wants) and repeat his script, and applaud his spins, and play his train DVD for the upteenth time, and say everything in a low soothing voice to calm him down. I've learned to drop plans in a heartbeat, change directions quickly, and throw the earlier part of the day out the window.

It would be so easy to holler and get uptight--and it's not to say I don't. Sometimes his frustrations and my hormones go head to head, and no one wins, and even the dog goes into hiding. But for the most part, when I can get a grasp on my own feelings and frustrations, (or at least set them aside for 20 friggin minutes) I am able to be the voice of calm in his world, until we can get to a place where he can just be, without competing with his senses and the world for a thought or an idea.

Perhaps its because I know these days usually mean growth for him (and possibly for the rest of us?). It usually means he's working through something and we will soon wonder at a new skill, or use of vocabulary or expression of emotion. But until then, we just have to practice patience. HE ain't gonna learn that one on his own. So I guess it's up to me the be the patient one. Which is seriously an exercise in itself.

The Morning After

So, last night was Purim. I'm not gonna say I drank to EXCESS, but there was drinking involved. (trying to keep up with the Old Man was a foolish endeavor)It turns out i am NOT a twenty-something with the liver of a champ who can drink all night and then roll out of bed to her dead end job at 7-11 without much of a hiccup. In fact, all that drinking did last night was make me tired. Seriously, not as much fun as it used to be.

So, creatively, I've got nothing for you today--but I did find this perfect hangover photo:


And in case you were wondering what alcohol does to the body:


Luckily for me, its STILL Purim. So a little hair of the dog might be in order. And by that I of course mean that my dog sheds on everything in this house and you cannot escape it…

Moonin' Folks...

So tonight is the night of the Super moon. It will be closer to earth than it has been in 20 years. A number of people seem to be up in arms about this phenomenon. Some think it will cause earthquakes, floods and various catastrophes. Others view it as astrologically significant as the moon is in uptight virgo, making people more anal than usual, with Uranus (not kidding) opposite that to introduce a little chaos and absolute change. Still others feel the need to prepare in case they develop extra teeth and hair and the ability to sniff out prey and literally join team Jacob.

Tonight is also Purim. My favorite holiday. It's a Jewish holiday that celebrates the story of Esther (ahhhh) and the brave Mordechai (yay!) against the evil Haman (boo! hiss!) to (once again) save the Hebrew people. (we get into a lot of scrapes, don't we?) Today I will be making Hamantashen with (for) my son and tonight, imbibing in alcoholic libations--it's a mitzvah, I HAVE to. In fact I am supposed to become so intoxicated that I would bless Haman and curse Mordechai. And G-d forbid I break with Jewish Law (lemme just but down this bacon cheeseburger)




So for those of you living near Jewish Communities tonight, be warned--the Super Moon may not be what you expected...

Awareness

So Angela over at Confessions of a Non-Domestic Mom is having an Autism awareness Carnival. ANd while i normally eschew carnies and their ilk, i think this carnival is safe! Check out mine, and some of the other awesome blogs!

The Perfect Weapon

So, I've noticed a number of "hey jackass, shut up. My kid has autism" entries in the bloggy world lately. I suppose now that the snow is thawing, so are people's manners, or lack thereof, so a few friends have had some not-so-pleasant encounters lately. I had one particularly good rant here a while back, but have since learned to just drink more and hold my tongue.

So I was talking to the Old Man about it yesterday, this prevalence of "you're an eejit" posts, because he particularly liked Jen's idea over at Living Life with a Side of Autism, about handing out cards to these selfsame asshats who feel they need to comment when your kid chooses to have a meltdown in the cereal aisle at Ralph's. Just a simple card with the words: "My kid has autism. Don't be a douche." Then, because its' the way he works, the Old Man said the same words in the voice of Samuel L Jackson--and my genius idea was born.

What we need is an instant smoke bomb/Samuel L Jackson for situations like that. Imagine if you will…

Little Billy has decided that the fact that all the cereal is not fronted properly, the coffee section looks like sasquatch has rolled through on a caffeine binge, and there are far too many poptarts on the SHELF and not in his MOUTH. Commence screaming. No amount of cajoling will help. Hell, even opening a box of poptarts, tearing through the mylar like a Weight Watcher's member after meeting her lifetime goal, and presenting the sugary goodness that only red dye #4 can create doesn't even scratch the surface. Your child can be heard over in produce, in the bakery, over by the Lottery Machine that no one even uses. Looks are cast. Guilt begins to set in. You want to crawl into a hole--preferably a sound-proof one with a full bar. You notice a few Frowny McWaggles whispering over by the oatmeal. And then Linda McSupermom and her brats Haley and Piper try to look like they are just nonchalantly buying some all natural no preservative pistachio flavored cereal, while they comment JUST LOUDLY ENOUGH that "that little boy doesn't know how to behave in the grocery"

Ok. A saint would take a moment to educate this person on what Autism looks like, and how the sensory overload of the cereal aisle is sometimes too much for little Billy. A normal adult would either mutter under her breath and move on, or confront the lady and then refuse to make a statement as to how Linda got a black eye.

Here's where my invention comes in. When you find yourself in this situation, you just pull the S. L. Jackson bomb out and throw it on the ground. Amidst the smoke appears Sam Jackson, in whatever role is needed for this situation. Example:

If people are just staring, if could be Mace Windu and his purple light-saber. A calming influence who would use the Jedi mind trick to fool the weak-minded into thinking you were never really there, and that they actually saw Jar-Jar-Binks over in dairy.

If you are facing the "Pick a little talk a little" ladies just starting to build steam, you might need Gator Purify from Jungle Fever to throw their coupons on the floor and start swearing on God and 4 white people. A sure-fire way to scatter suburban women in a heartbeat.

If that same group of ladies is starting to get bold, and look like they are going to try to offer you some advice or a lecture on effective parenting from the 1950's involving spanking, grounding or electric shock, there is always Neville Flynn from Snakes on a Plane, to just start shouting about these Mother Fuckin' People in this Mother Fuckin Store, and it should clear rather quickly.

Then of course, there is the ultimate: the Jules. And once he appears, curls and all, you will KNOW you are about to receive some judgement. It will be quite clear he is not there to give anyone a foot massage. And of course I don’t mean the Jules that decides he wants to be a wanderer while he delicately eats a blueberry muffin and eschews all pig products. I mean the "I don't remember asking you a GODDAMN THING" Jules, who is about to open up a can of biblical whoop-ass on ANYONE who doubts his sincerity.

Of course, using the Jules is a one-time deal. Once you do, it would be a good idea to never enter that store again, no matter if they double coupons or have a sale on string cheese. You may wont to consider just moving to a new city. Or using the grocery delivery from Vons.

All in all, I think it would be an effective way to exit without issue, and without getting arrested for battery. And I doubt those women would ever trouble another anxious overworked parent again. So consider it a social duty. With cursing.

Airing the Dirty Archives

Today i'm linking up to Jen's Blog GEms and airing an old Archive about creativity. For those of you who know me, you know creativity is not something new to me, but rather an important part of the air i breathe. It's creativity and this blog that keep me from taking a semi-automatic weapon down to the local coffeeshop...

So here's the post about my own dance with creativity, and for those of you interested, here's is my Facebook Page for my lil' business where you can order adorable, one of a kind silliness to adorn any baby or child... (and those of you with girls, i LOOOOOOOVE making lil girl stuff since i never get to. Just sayin.)

A moment of Pause

I had plans to post a snarky, profanity-ridden post today to entertain the masses and get my daily cursing quota out of the way, when i woke up to find out that friends in harm's way. I am happy to report that my friends in Japan are safe, and that none of my NoCal friends have been forced to evacuate. But i figured, maybe today wasn't the day to see how many people i could offend. So instead here's a link to the Red Cross, where you are able to make donations to those in need of help. Take a moment to show the generous spirit you have!

https://american.redcross.org/site/Donation2?idb=0&5052.donation=form1&df_id=5052


And i promise, the snark and profanity will return shortly.

Give Aways

So apparently when you get popular enough, you're supposed to give stuff away on your blog. Now for some blogs I totally get this--cooking sewing, whatevs, there's products for which you can hold contests and drawings or random acts of favoritism. I get that. But for some blogs, like my own, I am stymied as to what kind of thing I could "give away". Lucky for me, I am not as popular as some…


So that got me thinking: What COULD I give away that would be Autie related and yet still represent the level of snark present in this household ?
hmmmm….

a daily planner
since you have to have a routine and KEEP TO IT FOR GODSAKES, else all hell breaks loose

A coupon organizer
since you're spending all your money on therapies, special equipment, supplements and dietary issues, and now the price of gas, that you need that .50 coupon for Charmin or Jack Daniels…

Ear Plugs
either for your little angel, or better yet, you. Benji's gotten into this repetition kick lately that is slowly driving me batty--like scoping out a spot in the book conservatory batty--that could be remedied by a good pair of earplugs and ...

A New Shot Glass
its always good to have good barware that you can rely on. I mean, the other one(s) might be dirty, or in the dishwasher. You wouldn't want to drink your booze from a Spongebob cup, would you?

A prescription for Valium
ok, that one's mine. back off!

A crap-load of toys that were never played with
it turns out timers and clocks are FAR more fascinating


In the end I suppose it wouldn't be so ridiculous to have some sort of give-away on my blog. Perhaps one day I'll have enough followers that I will have to bribe entice them with goodies to read whatever drivel alcoholic ramblings brilliance I decided to put down for that day, but until then, I wouldn't hold your breath...

Button It!

Ben has this new thing: he likes to wear button down shirts. And not just casually. He wants all the buttons buttoned. Even his cool hawaiiian shirts. All the way to the top. No amount of ignoring or cajoling will stop the "top button, top button" mantra until you reach over and button that damn thing. I am beginning to see a need for rules and regulations in this little guy's life. He cannot stand it if I'm wearing a shirt that isn't buttoned all the way ( Just like his father, but for different reasons), or a jacket that isn't all the way zipped. He has the same obsession with doors and cabinets being closed, songs being finished and certain routes at the zoo to be followed.

So, ever a slave to fashion (HAH!) this shirt thing could go a couple of different ways…



































Now any of these boys would be welcome in my house--well, except for that damn jonas kid. I was actually pleased to find that the buttoned up look was more hip than i imagined--which was pretty much this

or
















So luckily right now Ben's just a little nerdy-chic. If that turns into a love of rock-n-roll, I'm ok with that. A love of tatoos? I'm ok with that too--but I ain't payin for 'em. A love of quantum physics and the need to protect his pocket? well, if it pays the bills...

Hickory Dickory What?

So Ben is over in his lil corner playing with this clock the Old Man got for Xmas a few years ago--it's got all these visible gears and such, so it's a bit of an Autism dream. He will gaze upon and play with that thing for a good couple of minutes while I catch a minute to pee write a blog post.

Anywho, today he's playing with it and I get the feeling they are going over Nursery Rhymes at school. The other day he brought home "Hunky Dunky" and today he is reciting "Hickory Dickory Dock"--or at least a close facsimile. He's got the first two lines down, but he's starting to impov a little in the middle:

"Hickory dickory dock
the mouse ran up the clock
the clock struck…9
snow on the mountain
tick tock tick tock tick tock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
the mouse ran up the clock
the clock struck…6
rectangle square
sit down pretzels
tick tock tick tock tick tock."


*wipes a tear* My son the beat poet… Guess I need to find him a little bongo and a beret.


I just hope no Andrew Dice Clay verses pop up anytime soon. (the way I curse? Could be any day now…)

My song of the day

This song came on in the car while i was running errands today, and it just summed up my mood. I love me some Blues Traveler...




yeah--it's hardly a blog post. But it makes me smile.