I envy...

I envy……….

I envy the people who can afford vacations – how nice must it be to get a break a few times a year to recharge your batteries, have a change of scenery…. Some place to just get away………..

I envy the people who don’t have to deal with the school day in and day out about their child’s behavior – how nice must it be just to pick up their kids and find out how great a day they had……..instead of hearing how their child hit or acted impulsively and just broke down crying.

I envy the people who get invited to parties and events – how nice must it be to interact with others in a festive atmosphere ……..instead of being left out only to hear about it later when feelings are hurt.

I envy the people who don’t have others talk about their kids and always look at them as “the bad kid” or the one who doesn’t act “properly” – how nice must it be to not be looked at and judged.

I envy the people who don’t have to clean poop off of their walls, bathroom, clothes and hide it from the world – how nice must it be to not deal with accidents from a grown boy.

I envy the people who have physical help and support – how nice must it be to not feel alone in the struggle.

I envy………I know I shouldn’t, but I do and that makes me feel worse and then I feel guilty……...along with the envy.

below rock bottom

So - I’m not sure what is below “rock bottom”, but I think I’m about to find out. 

Little Man has been having problems at his summer program.  He just can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.  He feels the need to react to other kids and disagreements by hitting.  I can’t tell you how many times I have gone over and over it…….. I really can’t – I’ve completely lost track in the past 5 years!  How can he not get this through his thick skull?!?!?  He KNOWS he will be in trouble, no matter who started it if he uses his hands.  He just acts impulsively and just lashes out when he feels he has been wronged.  The other kids know that, which just makes it worse….. they  try to get him to react – but his actions get him into trouble.

I’m so frustrated – beyond words – that I just want to cry. 

I don’t want my child to hit.  I don’t want my child to be looked at in a “bad light”.  I don’t want to get the phone calls or the messages that he can’t handle himself and that I have to leave work to pick him up. 

I can’t afford that – emotionally, mentally, financially………..

I want a break, I need a break…….and yet - I can’t afford a break from all of this………This is a full time job that I deal with daily.  I’m tired, so very tired of it all.

what if.........

I’ve been pondering all of the tragedies in our society lately.  It saddens my heart and soul to see all of this go on.  This post is not about guns, it’s not about mental illness, it’s not about any of that………it’s about what each of us can do, each and every day that might make a difference.

What if………

What if we cared more about saying “hello” to people than looking down at our phones? 

What if we said “how are you” and actually meant it and listened to the answer? 

What if instead of answering “fine” we actually said how we felt?

What if we were genuine and told people “thank you” and “have a nice day”?

What if we actually knew our neighbor’s names?

What if we took enough time to help each other?

What if……….

How would we all feel if we thought that someone else actually cared about us? Would that make us hurt less? Would that make people act out less? Would that let us reach out for help when we needed it? Would we reach out to those that we thought needed help?

I personally think it would.  I might be naive, but I think that if we cared just a little bit more about those around us, if we had a vested interest in the people that were around us, that we could make a personal difference in each other’s lives.  I’m not talking about surface Stepford façade interest, but actually getting to know one another.  Just little steps into making each other matter, because, we all do matter!

I'm not losing my funny

So,  I think it’s apparent to pretty much everyone here……..I’m not a writer.  Am I funny  - hells to the yes!  BUT……(and I do have a big butt……..) I am used to playing off of someone – a back and forth banter.  You say something, then I say something witty and maybe slightly inappropriate (ok – usually inappropriate), then you say something, then I say something to tie it up with a big funny bow…….and we all have a good laugh.  That’s how it works. 

The bad thing about the internet is that………there is no banter.  I’ve got to pick up your slack!  You are such a slacker!  Has anyone else told you that, because…..geeze……this is getting ridiculous!

Anywho…… I guess this means, that since I’m having a hard time with this writing thing – I thought I was losing my funny – then I thought it was writers block – then I figured out – fuck no – I’m not a true writer……ha ha!!!  Suck it……….I’m just gonna “blog” whatever the hell I want.  So…… If you can hang with that and follow along, you will see a little of what clouds my head.  Don’t expect “writing”…… because – yeah – I just told you – disclaimer - I’m not a fucking writer!

(gratuitous picture of our elf on the shelf to prove I'm damn funny!)

The trouble with shoelaces, blogs & why I will never get an Olympic Gold Medal

So – you know how you are watching the Olympics and that one figure skater just makes an incredible leap……..and then falls right on her ass?  Well, that would be me.  Well, with one exception – she gets up off the ice and keeps going.  Me – not so much!  I would be that one skater that would sit there, crying into my hands, ugly tears……. until someone came out and escorted me off the ice.  Yup - THAT’s me!

That brings us to the shoelaces…… no, really, it does!  My Little Man just turned 8.  He is totally afraid of learning to tie his shoes.  I mean, like he refuses to even touch them, try to tie them…….. get anywhere near them without just slipping them on.  As soon as he tries to do it, he gets one little step wrong, or it doesn’t work exactly right – and BAM – tears start flowing and he throws a fit and won’t try again.  I can’t figure out how to get him to do it……….so the kid still doesn’t tie them.

Yeah – that getting back up on the horse really doesn’t happen around my house!

Finally that brings us to this little blog right here.  I’m afraid of rejection I guess.  I want approval – well who in the hell doesn’t???  BUT, I’m so afraid of rejection or failing, that I’ve never even told my family about this page.  Actually, I’ve told almost no one about it.  Making it worse, I’m too afraid to “post” anything because it might not be funny enough or good enough – so I let things languish in my head and saved folder.  Cyclical – yes – hell yes – you betcha………. But that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t real and scary.

So, here’s my getting my ass off of the ice – medal be damned.  Although, maybe I could get a medal in “Ice Sitting”!

look for the orange

“Matthew” 

Look for the orange shirt, I tell myself silently……find the orange………I’m yelling now - ”Matthew……Matthew”………look for the orange (tears falling – uncalled – unwanted – unbidden – silently – slowly – tears falling on my cheek)    “MATTHEW”

My heart is alternating between stopping and pounding too fast in my chest…….this is the first time that I have opened up and let him “be a boy” as my husband has wanted me to – against my inner fight. He tells me to “leave my helicopter blades at home”.  This is our first Mom and Son Cub Scout camping trip. Yes, my son does need more independence…yes, I probably hover a whole lot more than I should……but he also has autism.  He is "high functioning" (whatever that means), so he understands what I tell him, but he doesn’t fully comprehend danger in the same way, nothing scares him.

“MATTHEW”….. “MATTHEW” …..  I’m screaming – there are places to fall where I couldn’t get to him, places to hide. There is poison oak over in those bushes…….there is a major drop off to a stream below…. find the orange……… look for the orange …. find the orange……… look for the orange…

There he was – blonde little head, bobbing up and down, arms flapping, waiting by the two metal poles.  He knew not to go out past the boundary line.  He makes mental notes of where things change.   I had told him not to leave our circle of cabins.

I was too upset to be mad at him……. Even though that was there too.  I reminded him, probably too sternly to not venture out without someone – don’t run off into the woods.

He was ready to go again, to go see what he could see……I was ready to drop on the ground, I couldn’t breathe, ready to curl up in a ball and cry……but I had to push on……I had to keep looking for the orange – running ahead of me.

(Ed note - this was written awhile back, but I was too afraid to post - too afraid to finish it... it's really still not finished.......I'm still looking for that orange everyday - scared to death - struggling with anxiety and helicopter blades swirling above my head........)

I'm not ready - (is this what they call "functioning"?!?!?))

I’m not ready.  After reading THIS…….I’m definitely not ready. 

I’ve thought of the future.  I really have.  It’s fuzzy and vague, but it’s a general idea of “it will be ok” kind of thing.  I see his father.  He is an Aspie.  He can semi function in society at large.  But when I think about it more………I’m the one that is functioning, keeping us all together – afloat. 

The Hubs - It takes him forever, but he gets himself up, gets ready for work and gets himself out of the house…….mostly.  On the days he doesn’t…..well, he calls in sick or a vacation day. He has ample time, so he uses it often. If I were his boss, I would have already fired him. This has been happening for years, it’s not new, it was his routine for school too.

He does not cook dinner – it’s not in his “routine”. If I am not home for some reason with Little Man, he will wait hours for me to bring home food and starve, then to cook something for himself and go out and pick something up in a drive-thru. The second I come home, he is hungry, even though he might have been home for hours.  There is a big white box in the kitchen…..a full pantry…..he could start dinner. 

He could help with homework.  He is SUPER smart!  He is actually one of the smartest people I know.  I think he could do second grade math.  But as I am struggling to make dinner (“yummy, home-made dinner from scratch” since nothing else is good enough for him) he is sitting watching tv.   

THIS AND SO MUCH MORE………..  I’m thinking – this is NOT functioning……how is he going to teach my son how to function……I’m NOT READY – maybe ready to cry – but not ready for the future!