Last fall Wyatts father and I made an adjustment to our custody agreement. We decided that this summer we would start true joint custody, with Wyatt spending 1 week at his fathers house, and 1 week with me, and we'd begin doing this over the summer to give Wy time to adapt to the change before he started back at school for the fall.
So, here we are, starting this new chapter this week, and I'm already struggling with it a little bit. I know that ultimately this is a good thing for Wyatt - he's getting older, he's starting to head into puberty, and the extra time with his Dad is healthy for him. I may not always agree with his father, but there's no denying the fact that he does love Wyatt, and I firmly believe that boys need their father.
But I miss him already. It's so quiet without the sound of Spongebob or Youtube train videos in the background, nobody's asked me to make them popcorn or waffles, or take them to the train station, nobody wants to use the hose and pretend it's the Auteck 4000 car wash.
He hasn't been gone any longer than he would normally have been, but I know tomorrow when I come home from work he won't be here, and that's making me sad. One of my very favorite parts of the day is snuggling up with him before he goes to sleep, talking and cuddling, and laughing together, and I won't have that with him for a whole week.
My friend Karen and I were talking about this yesterday - she and her husband have that same custody arrangement with his ex-wife. Karen mentioned how this can be a real struggle as a parent - you love your kid, you miss them, but you also start to enjoy having the breather time, then you feel guilty for enjoying the free time from your kid. I know I went through that with John, my older son. I loved having him with me, I missed him terribly when he was with his father, and I had buckets of guilt over enjoying myself when he wasn't with me.
I've spent a while preparing Wyatt for this transition, but I think in doing that I forgot to prepare myself for what it was going to be like for me. Stupid, right?
I think what's going to help is the fact that I'm rehearsing for the show - the weeks that I don't have Wy I'll have that to keep me busy, but the down side is that I'll feel guilty about rehearsing when he's here.
This is really the double edged sword aspect of mothering. You want to do what's best for your kids, but you cause yourself some pain in the process. You do something for yourself, and you feel guilty about taking time away from your kids to do it.
If being a mother doesn't hurt at least a little you're not doing it right.
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
WHEE!!! I spun back around again!
Yeah, it's a silly title, what do you expect? I just got off work and my cocktail hasn't kicked in yet.
Most of you know that I've been in rehearsal for a show - it's my first musical in over a decade, and I'm ridiculously excited about it. It's not just the fact that it's a great part, or that I get to work with one of the most talented group of people I've ever been lucky enough to share a stage with. (Seriously, I'm not kidding on the talent part, these folks are freaky good!) For me, a large part of the excitement is that I feel like I'm finally FULLY back to who I am at my core.
Allow me to elucidate...
The last time I did a musical was 1999. I was (at that time) very happily married to Wyatts father, Wyatt wasn't conceived yet, John was in grade school and thriving, I was living in upstate NY, and working in a great job at the VA hospital. I had everything I'd ever wanted for myself - a family, a good career, and the ability to continue performing(even if I wasn't doing it for a living any more). At that point in time I was probably the happiest I'd been in my life. I didn't know it at the time, but that would be my peak for the better part of the early 2000's. Within 2 years I had been basically forced into moving to NC, away from my oldest child, was the sole means of support for our family doing a job I HATED, was in an emotionally abusive marriage that was falling to pieces around me, and had a beautiful little boy who was in the process of being diagnosed with a life long developmental disability.
When you have all that happening it makes the whole "I just want to sing and dance!" attitude seem a little frivolous.
So I put all that on the back burner. I did V-Day, which was really wonderful, and for a cause that I strongly believe in, but from a musical theater geek standpoint, it was kind of like being given an appetizer and then being told the kitchen is closed. I would drive around singing along with Broadway cast albums, get up at Open Mic nights, do karaoke, but it just wasn't the same. I got cast in a play last year, but had to give the part up because of an asinine bid for custody on Waytts fathers part.
It's not that I resent having to stop performing - the reality is that Wyatts needs had to come ahead of mine, that's the deal you make when you become a parent. So I took care of him, went back to school so I could earn more and provide for him better, bought a house because I wanted him to have a real home, and stayed in my marriage to Tim for probably a year longer than I should have because I didn't want Wyatt to be without stability (A stupid decision on my part, I'M his stability, I know that now).
But I'm past that now - Wy's doing wonderfully, John has started on his own career path and is also doing really well, I have a job that I love, I've got a Grove that is a second family to me, and I'm finally back to performing again.
My home is peaceful, my children are happy, and I FINALLY get to FULLY satisfy my creative appetite.
I'm going to put my fingers in my ears now, so when the shit hits the fan I won't hear it.
Most of you know that I've been in rehearsal for a show - it's my first musical in over a decade, and I'm ridiculously excited about it. It's not just the fact that it's a great part, or that I get to work with one of the most talented group of people I've ever been lucky enough to share a stage with. (Seriously, I'm not kidding on the talent part, these folks are freaky good!) For me, a large part of the excitement is that I feel like I'm finally FULLY back to who I am at my core.
Allow me to elucidate...
The last time I did a musical was 1999. I was (at that time) very happily married to Wyatts father, Wyatt wasn't conceived yet, John was in grade school and thriving, I was living in upstate NY, and working in a great job at the VA hospital. I had everything I'd ever wanted for myself - a family, a good career, and the ability to continue performing(even if I wasn't doing it for a living any more). At that point in time I was probably the happiest I'd been in my life. I didn't know it at the time, but that would be my peak for the better part of the early 2000's. Within 2 years I had been basically forced into moving to NC, away from my oldest child, was the sole means of support for our family doing a job I HATED, was in an emotionally abusive marriage that was falling to pieces around me, and had a beautiful little boy who was in the process of being diagnosed with a life long developmental disability.
When you have all that happening it makes the whole "I just want to sing and dance!" attitude seem a little frivolous.
So I put all that on the back burner. I did V-Day, which was really wonderful, and for a cause that I strongly believe in, but from a musical theater geek standpoint, it was kind of like being given an appetizer and then being told the kitchen is closed. I would drive around singing along with Broadway cast albums, get up at Open Mic nights, do karaoke, but it just wasn't the same. I got cast in a play last year, but had to give the part up because of an asinine bid for custody on Waytts fathers part.
It's not that I resent having to stop performing - the reality is that Wyatts needs had to come ahead of mine, that's the deal you make when you become a parent. So I took care of him, went back to school so I could earn more and provide for him better, bought a house because I wanted him to have a real home, and stayed in my marriage to Tim for probably a year longer than I should have because I didn't want Wyatt to be without stability (A stupid decision on my part, I'M his stability, I know that now).
But I'm past that now - Wy's doing wonderfully, John has started on his own career path and is also doing really well, I have a job that I love, I've got a Grove that is a second family to me, and I'm finally back to performing again.
My home is peaceful, my children are happy, and I FINALLY get to FULLY satisfy my creative appetite.
I'm going to put my fingers in my ears now, so when the shit hits the fan I won't hear it.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Mean Girl Effect
I was reading an article in the NY Times health section the other day on the cliquish behavior of women in assisted living and long term care, the constant re-establishment of a Jr High level of pecking order, and the bullying and cruelty that goes along with that behavior. It's something that I saw firsthand when I worked in long term care, and apparently it's a serious enough problem that it actually merited a research study.
I don't know that a study was necessary, personally I think they could have just asked my mother - her take on this type of behavior is pretty shrewd. She says that as you get older you just become more of what you already are. So, if you were a bitch and a bully as a kid, and as a young adult, you'll be a bigger bitch and a bigger bully as you become an old lady. If you cling to a small crowd that thinks and acts like you because that's where you get your security from, you'll continue to do that for the rest of your life.
The article stuck with me mainly because of what's been going on at Circle of Moms in the faith based blogging category. A few of the Christian bloggers started acting VERY un Christ like over the fact that Pagan bloggers were nominated for top 25 faith based blogs. Several of them got their saintly white panties in a bunch over the fact that Witches and Heathens and Druids (Oh My!) DARED to write about their faith! They called out the Christian Soldiers to try and keep ONLY Christian blogs in the top 25.
Of course we Witches and Heathens and Druids (Oh My!) responded in the only possible appropriate way. We outvoted the crap out of them. As of right now the top 25 Faith Based blogs by mothers contains 11 Pagan blogs, and #26,27,and 28 are all by pagan women as well!
The reason I connected this article to what was happening on the blog contest was the fact that there was such a sense of entitlement from the Christian bloggers, or at least a few of them. They had this overt attitude of "You don't belong in our club, you can't sit at our table", and that attitude wasn't reserved just for the pagan blogs, it was for anyone that didn't fit into their little clique, Jewish, Muslim, anyone. It was the online equivalent of the catty bunch of cheerleaders that sat in the back of the class making fun of the fact that you didn't have the "cool" shoes or the "right" purse.
I hated that shit in High School, and I guess my mother is right, because I hate even more as an adult. The bitchy, catty, "you're not good enough" attitude is just childish, and it comes from an overinflated sense of self importance which is actually a cover for deep seated insecurity. It's that same insecurity that makes these bitches plaster on big fake smiles and air kiss women that they secretly can't stand, because they're afraid if they deviate in any way from what's expected of them by the "right" crowd that they'll be ostracized. So they'll all rally around the head bully who decides which people are the right kind of people, and they'll pick apart anyone who doesn't fit that mold, and they'll secretly hate themselves for being so weak and pathetic, but they'll go along with it anyway.
Mean girls never die, they just learn to bully online.
And that's fine, those of us that were the target of that kind of behavior growing up have (for the most part) learned how to handle it. We've grown, developed our inner strength, built loving honest, stable friendships and relationships, and learned to love ourselves for who we are.
We've also learned how to outvote the bitches - take THAT Mean Girls!
I don't know that a study was necessary, personally I think they could have just asked my mother - her take on this type of behavior is pretty shrewd. She says that as you get older you just become more of what you already are. So, if you were a bitch and a bully as a kid, and as a young adult, you'll be a bigger bitch and a bigger bully as you become an old lady. If you cling to a small crowd that thinks and acts like you because that's where you get your security from, you'll continue to do that for the rest of your life.
The article stuck with me mainly because of what's been going on at Circle of Moms in the faith based blogging category. A few of the Christian bloggers started acting VERY un Christ like over the fact that Pagan bloggers were nominated for top 25 faith based blogs. Several of them got their saintly white panties in a bunch over the fact that Witches and Heathens and Druids (Oh My!) DARED to write about their faith! They called out the Christian Soldiers to try and keep ONLY Christian blogs in the top 25.
Of course we Witches and Heathens and Druids (Oh My!) responded in the only possible appropriate way. We outvoted the crap out of them. As of right now the top 25 Faith Based blogs by mothers contains 11 Pagan blogs, and #26,27,and 28 are all by pagan women as well!
The reason I connected this article to what was happening on the blog contest was the fact that there was such a sense of entitlement from the Christian bloggers, or at least a few of them. They had this overt attitude of "You don't belong in our club, you can't sit at our table", and that attitude wasn't reserved just for the pagan blogs, it was for anyone that didn't fit into their little clique, Jewish, Muslim, anyone. It was the online equivalent of the catty bunch of cheerleaders that sat in the back of the class making fun of the fact that you didn't have the "cool" shoes or the "right" purse.
I hated that shit in High School, and I guess my mother is right, because I hate even more as an adult. The bitchy, catty, "you're not good enough" attitude is just childish, and it comes from an overinflated sense of self importance which is actually a cover for deep seated insecurity. It's that same insecurity that makes these bitches plaster on big fake smiles and air kiss women that they secretly can't stand, because they're afraid if they deviate in any way from what's expected of them by the "right" crowd that they'll be ostracized. So they'll all rally around the head bully who decides which people are the right kind of people, and they'll pick apart anyone who doesn't fit that mold, and they'll secretly hate themselves for being so weak and pathetic, but they'll go along with it anyway.
Mean girls never die, they just learn to bully online.
And that's fine, those of us that were the target of that kind of behavior growing up have (for the most part) learned how to handle it. We've grown, developed our inner strength, built loving honest, stable friendships and relationships, and learned to love ourselves for who we are.
We've also learned how to outvote the bitches - take THAT Mean Girls!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Is this REALLY a mental wellness blog? Well...
Yeah, in many ways it is! A friend of mine just joked with me that me writing a wellness blog would be like her (a Jewish Redhead) writing a Black womans blog. I know she was kidding, and it was a really funny comment, but it got me thinking that the people who read this page may not have had access to some of the writing from my old blog, when I was in the process of dealing with the end of a marriage, having been cheated on, and working through an episode of major depression. So, in order to justify my status in Circle of Moms Mental Wellness blogs list, here's some of the writing I've done on a few things in that catagory.
On depression and loss
On self esteem and relationships
On surviving major life changes
On the challenges of raising a child with autism
On being in the moment
You see what I do there? I'm a crafty little devil - I reel you in with humor and slip a little lesson in there when you're not looking! So yes, I feel justified in classifying this as a mental wellness blog!
On depression and loss
On self esteem and relationships
On surviving major life changes
On the challenges of raising a child with autism
On being in the moment
You see what I do there? I'm a crafty little devil - I reel you in with humor and slip a little lesson in there when you're not looking! So yes, I feel justified in classifying this as a mental wellness blog!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Let's see how many projects I can juggle at one time...
If you see my Facebook page then you know by now that I've started writing on autism and parenting for Examiner.com. This isn't something new, I've been writing on what it's like to parent an autistic child since Wyatt was about 3, and I try to pass on links and local info to people who can use it, but this is on a bigger scale. Examiner is a pretty big site, and their writers come up fairly high on the list of Google searches of their subjects, plus I get paid for doing this!
I'm also starting rehearsal this week for Pump Boys and Dinettes at Winston Salem Theater Alliance in July. It's my first musical in over 10 years, it's a great role, and i can't wait to get started working on it.
my last little new project is adding my name to the list of candidates for top 25 mental wellness blogs on Circle of Moms. Why mental wellness? Because writing this blog (sporadic as I can be) is part of what keeps me sane! I've added a button to the page so if you want, you can vote for me! C'mon - how cool would it be to have a blog called Suburban Chicken as a top mental wellness blog?
So why do I take on so many things at one time? Really, is my life not just finally settling down after years of school and busting my tush to get Wyatt on track developmentally, academically and behaviorally? What is it in my nature that makes me need to have at least 3 pans in the fire at all times? Am I desperately trying to make up for the fact that most of my high school career was spent cutting gym class, smoking in the bathroom, ducking out for liquid lunches or hanging out in the Choir room?
Nah, probably not, I had WAY too much fun doing all that to actually regret it.
I think that part of why I take on so many things is that I've spent so many of the past years focused on taking care of everyone elses needs. Now that I have time free to do things that are just for me, there's so many that I want to do that I can't choose just one, I want the whole damn buffet!
I'm probably going to have to pick and choose a little more carefully, but for now I'm pretty happy with what's on my plate.
I'm also starting rehearsal this week for Pump Boys and Dinettes at Winston Salem Theater Alliance in July. It's my first musical in over 10 years, it's a great role, and i can't wait to get started working on it.
my last little new project is adding my name to the list of candidates for top 25 mental wellness blogs on Circle of Moms. Why mental wellness? Because writing this blog (sporadic as I can be) is part of what keeps me sane! I've added a button to the page so if you want, you can vote for me! C'mon - how cool would it be to have a blog called Suburban Chicken as a top mental wellness blog?
So why do I take on so many things at one time? Really, is my life not just finally settling down after years of school and busting my tush to get Wyatt on track developmentally, academically and behaviorally? What is it in my nature that makes me need to have at least 3 pans in the fire at all times? Am I desperately trying to make up for the fact that most of my high school career was spent cutting gym class, smoking in the bathroom, ducking out for liquid lunches or hanging out in the Choir room?
Nah, probably not, I had WAY too much fun doing all that to actually regret it.
I think that part of why I take on so many things is that I've spent so many of the past years focused on taking care of everyone elses needs. Now that I have time free to do things that are just for me, there's so many that I want to do that I can't choose just one, I want the whole damn buffet!
I'm probably going to have to pick and choose a little more carefully, but for now I'm pretty happy with what's on my plate.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Really, I mean it, this time the blog is going to post!
OK so you're all familiar with my pathetic attempt to post a blog from work earlier today. I tried, really I did, but our IE5 browser and our 3 gerbil powered server prevented me from filling the last 2 hours of my work day with a lively blog posting. But I'm home now, so that's no longer an issue.
So, as I attempted to say earlier - Yes, I'm posting another autism related blog. What, did you think you'd get through autism awareness month with just one blog posting from me?! Oh no, no, no my darlings, you've obviously forgotten who you're dealing with.
On Wednesday night my father and I attended a discussion on autistic adults acting as their own advocates. The discussion was sponsored by iCan house, which is a place for autistic kids and adults to go for social interaction groups and activities. It's a wonderful idea, and something I'd love to have Wyatt involved in, but at over $200 a month for their after school program, and over $300 a week for their summer day camps it's just WAY more than I (and most other families) can afford. But, their lectures are free, so I can go and pick up some knowledge, and hopefully apply it to meeting Wyatts needs.
So, Dad (who is always willing to learn something new to help Wy) and I went, listened to some really amazing young adults talk about living with Autism/Aspergers, and about how they learned to stand up for, and advocate for themselves. I got to ask them what was the most difficult thing about Jr high/High School for them and how they dealt with it, and I got a little peek at what Wyatt will be like in his late 20's. One of the men who was there was in his late 20's. he works at a local grocery store, and also at a local community college in the computer lab. Of all of the panelists, he reminded me most of Wy, in terms of his level of social functioning and his verbal skills. One of the things that most impressed me about him was how aware he was of what the difficulties of his Apergers were. He was very much aware of the fact that he had difficulty recognizing subtleties in facial expressions, and that he didn't understand sarcasm. These are both things that Wyatt struggles with as well.
By hearing this man talk about how he learned that these were things he would always have trouble with, it helped me realize that I was going to have to start working with Wy to help him recognize the areas that he struggles with.
One of the things that I think is always going to be a challenge is teaching Wy what he DOESN'T get. That's a really difficult thing to do. How do you teach someone who is color blind that there are colors that they don't see? How do you get someone who is tone deaf to understand that there are notes they don't hear? How do I help my little boy understand that there are rules to a game that he doesn't even know is being played, and that the game he doesn't know is going to be part of every aspect of his life for the next 6 years of school and beyond?
I listened to these young adults talk about how difficult school was for them, and it was as if I was living out the lyrics to "Killing Me Softly". Been there, done that, don't want it for either of my boys. But of course, we don't always get a vote when it comes to the things our kids will have to go through. So I gathered what I could from what these people had to say, and tucked it into my arsenal of weapons I'm going to pass along to the boy when he has need of them.
It doesn't seem like much of an arsenal - the whole "I have trouble understanding subtle facial expressions" arrow seems kind of dull when you shoot it out against the terrifying dragon of pre-adolescent scorn. But I know that Wy is a pretty confident kid. As one of his teachers said at his IEP meeting "Wyatt knows exactly who he is, and he really likes himself". So I have to hope that at least some degree of that follows him into the bog of hormones and insecurity he's about to wade in to next school year.
Of all the challenges I've faced with Wyatt over the last 8 years since he was diagnosed, none has frightened me more than him entering adolescence. It's looming on the horizon now, and I'm still scared, but I think we're both ready to face it. It's good to know that there are people who have come through the other side, and are happy and well adjusted, in spite of (or maybe because of) the difficulties they've come up against.
So, as I attempted to say earlier - Yes, I'm posting another autism related blog. What, did you think you'd get through autism awareness month with just one blog posting from me?! Oh no, no, no my darlings, you've obviously forgotten who you're dealing with.
On Wednesday night my father and I attended a discussion on autistic adults acting as their own advocates. The discussion was sponsored by iCan house, which is a place for autistic kids and adults to go for social interaction groups and activities. It's a wonderful idea, and something I'd love to have Wyatt involved in, but at over $200 a month for their after school program, and over $300 a week for their summer day camps it's just WAY more than I (and most other families) can afford. But, their lectures are free, so I can go and pick up some knowledge, and hopefully apply it to meeting Wyatts needs.
So, Dad (who is always willing to learn something new to help Wy) and I went, listened to some really amazing young adults talk about living with Autism/Aspergers, and about how they learned to stand up for, and advocate for themselves. I got to ask them what was the most difficult thing about Jr high/High School for them and how they dealt with it, and I got a little peek at what Wyatt will be like in his late 20's. One of the men who was there was in his late 20's. he works at a local grocery store, and also at a local community college in the computer lab. Of all of the panelists, he reminded me most of Wy, in terms of his level of social functioning and his verbal skills. One of the things that most impressed me about him was how aware he was of what the difficulties of his Apergers were. He was very much aware of the fact that he had difficulty recognizing subtleties in facial expressions, and that he didn't understand sarcasm. These are both things that Wyatt struggles with as well.
By hearing this man talk about how he learned that these were things he would always have trouble with, it helped me realize that I was going to have to start working with Wy to help him recognize the areas that he struggles with.
One of the things that I think is always going to be a challenge is teaching Wy what he DOESN'T get. That's a really difficult thing to do. How do you teach someone who is color blind that there are colors that they don't see? How do you get someone who is tone deaf to understand that there are notes they don't hear? How do I help my little boy understand that there are rules to a game that he doesn't even know is being played, and that the game he doesn't know is going to be part of every aspect of his life for the next 6 years of school and beyond?
I listened to these young adults talk about how difficult school was for them, and it was as if I was living out the lyrics to "Killing Me Softly". Been there, done that, don't want it for either of my boys. But of course, we don't always get a vote when it comes to the things our kids will have to go through. So I gathered what I could from what these people had to say, and tucked it into my arsenal of weapons I'm going to pass along to the boy when he has need of them.
It doesn't seem like much of an arsenal - the whole "I have trouble understanding subtle facial expressions" arrow seems kind of dull when you shoot it out against the terrifying dragon of pre-adolescent scorn. But I know that Wy is a pretty confident kid. As one of his teachers said at his IEP meeting "Wyatt knows exactly who he is, and he really likes himself". So I have to hope that at least some degree of that follows him into the bog of hormones and insecurity he's about to wade in to next school year.
Of all the challenges I've faced with Wyatt over the last 8 years since he was diagnosed, none has frightened me more than him entering adolescence. It's looming on the horizon now, and I'm still scared, but I think we're both ready to face it. It's good to know that there are people who have come through the other side, and are happy and well adjusted, in spite of (or maybe because of) the difficulties they've come up against.
Friday, April 1, 2011
What I've learned in the last 8 years...
For those of you that don't know, today marks the begining of Autism awareness month. It's nice that once a year the media throws a spotlight on autism, really, it is. I don't resent attention being paid, even it's only for a brief period. (OK, I do resent when the attention is paid to sensationalistic, panic inducing, non-scientific crap like the vaccine/autism garbage, but still...) I think that raising awareness of the challenges that autistic individuals and their families face is a good thing. Increased funding for early intervention programs and special education would be better, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
So, for the next 30 days there'll be a steep learning curve, people will be flooded with information, and sometime around April 30th everyone will move on with their lives until next year, or until Jenny McCarthy publishes another hard bound pile of excrement and starts making the talk show rounds again.
For me though, the learning curve never stops. I've spent the better part of the last decade coping, learning, dealing, and adjusting to living with autism on a daily basis. It's been almost 8 years since I first heard the word autistic applied to my son Wyatt. In the time that's passed since then I've learned a few things - about autism, about parenting, and about life in general.
I've learned:
My child is not defined by his diagnosis - My son is an amazing kid : he's funny, affectionate, smart, sensitive, and very quirky. Most people who meet him for the first time don't realize he's autistic, they just think he's a little "odd". He's not cold or emotionless or withdrawn, he doesn't rock or headbang or self injure. He's not Rainman. He's not "An Autistic". He's just a 10 year old boy who who happens to have a brain that works differently that most peoples.
Don't believe everything you read - The amount of pure dee grade A crapola information that's out there about autism is STAGGERING. Really, there is so much bad science and flat out lies about how to best help your child that it's astonishing. If I had believed everything I ever read about autism I would have done one of the following: 1)stripped every non-natural item out of my home/pantry/closets/toyboxes, moved into a hole in the ground, breastfed him until he was 15, and only let him play with rocks and small clumps of unfertilized grass. 2) Realized that my life was now only going to be devoted to caring for a child incapable of loving me back or ever being the slightest bit independant, and started drinking heavily while posting incessently on mommy message boards about how the vaccine companies did this to my kid. 3) Taken a full on Greg Lougenis worthy dive into Mommy Martyrdom, given up everything in my life that wasn't centered around my kid (all while looking fabulous in a perfectly co-ordinated J Crew ensemble), and waited patiently for the 2 hour long Lifetime Movie "A Mothers Martyrdom" starring Valerie Bertanelli to be made about me.
Obviously I didn't do any of that. Instead, I focused my attention on learning everything I could from reputable sources (peer reviewed, well researched, evidence based sources), put the things I'd learned into practice with Wyatt on a daily basis, and we got on with our lives.
Keep your sense of humor, you're going to need it! - Being able to see the humor in Wyatts quirks is what's kept me from falling apart. Some day it's the ONLY thing that's kept me from falling apart. Parenting a kid who doesn't fit into the mold of whats considered normal is never easy, especially when your kid looks fine. I've written more than a few blogs about the dirty looks I've gotten from people when his behavior hasn't matched up with what his appearance leads people to expect of him. The best way I've found to deal with this is to laugh - at myself, at him, at the absurdity of the situation. If I can laugh at something, I can deal with it, and Wyatts learing the same thing. And dammit, he's a funny kid! Really - how many other kids do you know that read peoples name badges and call them by their name? Or eat Catsup like its soup? Or decide they're in love with a belly dancing troupe and invite them all over to his grandparents house? See? He's funny!
Flexibilty is essential - I learned a long time ago that I was going to have to be able to adapt to Wyatts needs, because he couldn't adapt to mine. It was much easier for me to take the extra 30 seconds to let him jump up and down in front of the automatic door, than to deal with the 45 minute long meltdown that would happen if I tried to rush him through it. That doesn't mean that he ALWYS gets his way, I'm not raising Charlie Sheen here. But when I can be flexible with him, I choose to do it, because I know that in the long run, it's just easier on both of us.
Pick your battles - My kid lives on crap food. I know this, and I accept it. My kid has to be the one to open the door at the store, he doesn't want anyone to hold it for him. I'm fine with that. My kid has to ride the elevators at the mall in the same sequence, we have to take the long way home from school every other day so he can see his favorite car wash, we have to get a reciept when we pay credit at the gas pump, and his Sprite can never have ice in it. I can deal with that. I have bigger fish to fry with him than making him give up routines that are safe and reassuring to him. Fish like keeping him working on grade level, teaching him that he can't kiss girls at school like Shrek kisses Fiona, helping him realize that you need to wait until you're actually IN the bathroom before you pull your pants down. You know, little stuff like that. So I pick and choose what battles I'm going to fight, and I try not to lose sleep over the rest of it.
Never take anything for grantedI think the most important thing I've learned over the last 8 years is that your life can change in a heartbeat. Everything that you believe is true and solid can be turned on its' ear, and you'll never see it coming, so the best thing that you can do is appreciate what you have, right here and right now.
OK, that's enough of me lecturing.
So, for the next 30 days there'll be a steep learning curve, people will be flooded with information, and sometime around April 30th everyone will move on with their lives until next year, or until Jenny McCarthy publishes another hard bound pile of excrement and starts making the talk show rounds again.
For me though, the learning curve never stops. I've spent the better part of the last decade coping, learning, dealing, and adjusting to living with autism on a daily basis. It's been almost 8 years since I first heard the word autistic applied to my son Wyatt. In the time that's passed since then I've learned a few things - about autism, about parenting, and about life in general.
I've learned:
My child is not defined by his diagnosis - My son is an amazing kid : he's funny, affectionate, smart, sensitive, and very quirky. Most people who meet him for the first time don't realize he's autistic, they just think he's a little "odd". He's not cold or emotionless or withdrawn, he doesn't rock or headbang or self injure. He's not Rainman. He's not "An Autistic". He's just a 10 year old boy who who happens to have a brain that works differently that most peoples.
Don't believe everything you read - The amount of pure dee grade A crapola information that's out there about autism is STAGGERING. Really, there is so much bad science and flat out lies about how to best help your child that it's astonishing. If I had believed everything I ever read about autism I would have done one of the following: 1)stripped every non-natural item out of my home/pantry/closets/toyboxes, moved into a hole in the ground, breastfed him until he was 15, and only let him play with rocks and small clumps of unfertilized grass. 2) Realized that my life was now only going to be devoted to caring for a child incapable of loving me back or ever being the slightest bit independant, and started drinking heavily while posting incessently on mommy message boards about how the vaccine companies did this to my kid. 3) Taken a full on Greg Lougenis worthy dive into Mommy Martyrdom, given up everything in my life that wasn't centered around my kid (all while looking fabulous in a perfectly co-ordinated J Crew ensemble), and waited patiently for the 2 hour long Lifetime Movie "A Mothers Martyrdom" starring Valerie Bertanelli to be made about me.
Obviously I didn't do any of that. Instead, I focused my attention on learning everything I could from reputable sources (peer reviewed, well researched, evidence based sources), put the things I'd learned into practice with Wyatt on a daily basis, and we got on with our lives.
Keep your sense of humor, you're going to need it! - Being able to see the humor in Wyatts quirks is what's kept me from falling apart. Some day it's the ONLY thing that's kept me from falling apart. Parenting a kid who doesn't fit into the mold of whats considered normal is never easy, especially when your kid looks fine. I've written more than a few blogs about the dirty looks I've gotten from people when his behavior hasn't matched up with what his appearance leads people to expect of him. The best way I've found to deal with this is to laugh - at myself, at him, at the absurdity of the situation. If I can laugh at something, I can deal with it, and Wyatts learing the same thing. And dammit, he's a funny kid! Really - how many other kids do you know that read peoples name badges and call them by their name? Or eat Catsup like its soup? Or decide they're in love with a belly dancing troupe and invite them all over to his grandparents house? See? He's funny!
Flexibilty is essential - I learned a long time ago that I was going to have to be able to adapt to Wyatts needs, because he couldn't adapt to mine. It was much easier for me to take the extra 30 seconds to let him jump up and down in front of the automatic door, than to deal with the 45 minute long meltdown that would happen if I tried to rush him through it. That doesn't mean that he ALWYS gets his way, I'm not raising Charlie Sheen here. But when I can be flexible with him, I choose to do it, because I know that in the long run, it's just easier on both of us.
Pick your battles - My kid lives on crap food. I know this, and I accept it. My kid has to be the one to open the door at the store, he doesn't want anyone to hold it for him. I'm fine with that. My kid has to ride the elevators at the mall in the same sequence, we have to take the long way home from school every other day so he can see his favorite car wash, we have to get a reciept when we pay credit at the gas pump, and his Sprite can never have ice in it. I can deal with that. I have bigger fish to fry with him than making him give up routines that are safe and reassuring to him. Fish like keeping him working on grade level, teaching him that he can't kiss girls at school like Shrek kisses Fiona, helping him realize that you need to wait until you're actually IN the bathroom before you pull your pants down. You know, little stuff like that. So I pick and choose what battles I'm going to fight, and I try not to lose sleep over the rest of it.
Never take anything for grantedI think the most important thing I've learned over the last 8 years is that your life can change in a heartbeat. Everything that you believe is true and solid can be turned on its' ear, and you'll never see it coming, so the best thing that you can do is appreciate what you have, right here and right now.
OK, that's enough of me lecturing.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Polevaulting to conclusions.
I have a pet peeve. OK, I have multiple pet peeves; people who don't use their turn signal, old ladies who write checks in the express checkout line, the vast majority of Pop music, but for today I'm going to stick to just one.
The peeve that's got me all ramped up today is alarmist blogs, specifically those that pertain to autism. Even more specifically, those that take scholarly research articles, skim them for the most frightening phrases and then draw full blown, terrifying conclusions from tiny unrelated pieces of information.
I was reading a blog on Autism Key today, written by Susan Moffitt. The blog is titled "Shocking Study Links Brain Erosion To Antipsychotics". You can read it for yourself here. The blog was based on a research article published in the Archives of General Psychiatry.
Here's the problem I have with Ms Moffitts conclusions - she uses this research to claim that (and I'm cutting and pasting directly from her blog)
"Long-term use of antipsychotics must be stopped and their use on the still developing brains of children should be banned. There can be no justification for giving antipsychotics to someone who is not even psychotic."
First of all, calling for a complete ban on the long term use of antipsychotic medication is ridiculous. These medications, when used appropriately, allow people with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder to get relief from their symptoms, hold down jobs, stay out of jail or hospitals, and in many cases, function as productive members of their communities.I know this because I see it every day. I've seen clients come in psychotic, trapped in the paranoia and delusions that are caused by their unbalanced brain chemistry, and I've seen them emerge from that state after being properly medicated.
Ms Moffitt doesn't seem to understand that psychosis is a SYMPTOM of a mental disorder, not a disorder in and of itself. A patient can be suffering from a disorder that predisposes them to psychosis without currently being in a psychotic state.
The bigger issue with this blog of Ms Moffitts is that she's using the findings from this research to support her belief that the brain shrinkage that was observed over time is a valid reason to eliminate the use of an entire class of medications. That's not what this study states at all. This is a quote from the abstract of the research study -
"Viewed together with data from animal studies, our study suggests that antipsychotics have a subtle but measurable influence on brain tissue loss over time, suggesting the importance of careful risk-benefit review of dosage and duration of treatment as well as their off-label use. (Italics are mine
Did you catch that? The study suggests - not concludes, not proves, SUGGESTS. The sample size for this study was 211 patients with schizophrenia - that's a VERY small sample size. The patients had MRI scans begining at the onset of their illness and at different times over a 14 year period. The study did attempt to control for other potential variables that could have caused loss of brain tissue over time, but again, this was a very small sample size, consisting of only schizophrenic clients. The study does seem to indicate that there's a need for further investigation, and it also indicates that the level of dosage has an impact on the amount of brain tissue loss, but it certianly does not provide a basis for banning all antipsychotic medications.
Ms Moffitt does raise some valid points in her blog - antipsychotic use in children has skyrocketed over the past decade, and Medicaid does pay a higher rate of reimbusment for medication than it does for individual therapy. As the parent of a child with autism I'm strongly opposed to the use of medication to manage behavior issues. I think (and research backs me up on this) that behavioral modification is far more effective in the long term than medication, and I'm opposed to subjecting a developing brain to chemical alteration.
That being said, I still feel that Ms Moffitt has no business calling for the elimination of all antipsychotics based on her (rather weak) interpretation of a small research study that doesn't state any concrete conclusions.
She reminds me of someone.....hmmm, who could it be....Oh yeah - Jenny McCarthy.
The peeve that's got me all ramped up today is alarmist blogs, specifically those that pertain to autism. Even more specifically, those that take scholarly research articles, skim them for the most frightening phrases and then draw full blown, terrifying conclusions from tiny unrelated pieces of information.
I was reading a blog on Autism Key today, written by Susan Moffitt. The blog is titled "Shocking Study Links Brain Erosion To Antipsychotics". You can read it for yourself here. The blog was based on a research article published in the Archives of General Psychiatry.
Here's the problem I have with Ms Moffitts conclusions - she uses this research to claim that (and I'm cutting and pasting directly from her blog)
"Long-term use of antipsychotics must be stopped and their use on the still developing brains of children should be banned. There can be no justification for giving antipsychotics to someone who is not even psychotic."
First of all, calling for a complete ban on the long term use of antipsychotic medication is ridiculous. These medications, when used appropriately, allow people with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder to get relief from their symptoms, hold down jobs, stay out of jail or hospitals, and in many cases, function as productive members of their communities.I know this because I see it every day. I've seen clients come in psychotic, trapped in the paranoia and delusions that are caused by their unbalanced brain chemistry, and I've seen them emerge from that state after being properly medicated.
Ms Moffitt doesn't seem to understand that psychosis is a SYMPTOM of a mental disorder, not a disorder in and of itself. A patient can be suffering from a disorder that predisposes them to psychosis without currently being in a psychotic state.
The bigger issue with this blog of Ms Moffitts is that she's using the findings from this research to support her belief that the brain shrinkage that was observed over time is a valid reason to eliminate the use of an entire class of medications. That's not what this study states at all. This is a quote from the abstract of the research study -
"Viewed together with data from animal studies, our study suggests that antipsychotics have a subtle but measurable influence on brain tissue loss over time, suggesting the importance of careful risk-benefit review of dosage and duration of treatment as well as their off-label use. (Italics are mine
Did you catch that? The study suggests - not concludes, not proves, SUGGESTS. The sample size for this study was 211 patients with schizophrenia - that's a VERY small sample size. The patients had MRI scans begining at the onset of their illness and at different times over a 14 year period. The study did attempt to control for other potential variables that could have caused loss of brain tissue over time, but again, this was a very small sample size, consisting of only schizophrenic clients. The study does seem to indicate that there's a need for further investigation, and it also indicates that the level of dosage has an impact on the amount of brain tissue loss, but it certianly does not provide a basis for banning all antipsychotic medications.
Ms Moffitt does raise some valid points in her blog - antipsychotic use in children has skyrocketed over the past decade, and Medicaid does pay a higher rate of reimbusment for medication than it does for individual therapy. As the parent of a child with autism I'm strongly opposed to the use of medication to manage behavior issues. I think (and research backs me up on this) that behavioral modification is far more effective in the long term than medication, and I'm opposed to subjecting a developing brain to chemical alteration.
That being said, I still feel that Ms Moffitt has no business calling for the elimination of all antipsychotics based on her (rather weak) interpretation of a small research study that doesn't state any concrete conclusions.
She reminds me of someone.....hmmm, who could it be....Oh yeah - Jenny McCarthy.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Since we're changing the Zodiac, I thought I'd put my bid in now.
It's recently come to my attention that there's been a change in the eons old system of astrology that we've all used to guide our lives. Since this change has resulted in confusion, delay, and the collapse of several major world religions, I feel obligated to restore some sense of order and clarity to our now (even more) deeply fucked up world. To this end, I've decided to write my own zodiac, based on my non-existent, substantial lack of knowledge. It is my sincere hope that this system will eventually come to be regarded with the level of awe and worship it so richly deserves.
I'll list the signs, the starting and ending dates, their positive and negative attributes, associated colors and numbers.
1) Fluffy Banderchute ( March 14th to the next Buffy The Vampire Slayer marathon on Logo TV)
Positive attributes: Freckles, minimal armpit hair, a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of Joss Wheadons entire body of work, the ability to sing Happy Birthday in at least 3 languages.
Negative attributes: Occasional acne, a near fanatical aversion to folding laundry, strangely attractive to chickens, public drooling.
Associated Colors and Numbers: Puce and 867-5309
2) Lilith Bearclaw Morning Breath (January 10th of odd numbered years to the next time your car breaks down)
Positive attributes: A complete lack of bedbug infestation in your home, neatly trimmed cuticles, the ability to quote Proust in Latvian, very clean kitchen counters.
Negative attributes: An obsessive desire to mow your lawn at 4am on Sundays, occasional outbursts of the theme song to "Friends", always smells like Taco Bell, a third nipple.
Associated colors and numbers: Tidy Bowl blue, and whatever number of RPM's a dentists drill turns at.
3) Tentacled Freshwater Trout ( Alternating Tuesdays to National Dress Up Your Dog Day)
Positive attributes: The ability to juggle, Bangs that don't do that stupid flippy thing when you forget to blow dry them, a passion for fruit, a complete lack of road rage.
Negative attributes: Always writes checks at the grocery store, is never able to figure out which tooth you're talking about when you tell them they have something stuck in their teeth, still wears Loves Baby Soft cologne in their 40's.
Associated colors and numbers: The color of that bridemaids dress you REALLY hated, a random number from the Dewey Decimal System.
There - I think I've covered everthing you'll ever need to know about yourself.
I'll list the signs, the starting and ending dates, their positive and negative attributes, associated colors and numbers.
1) Fluffy Banderchute ( March 14th to the next Buffy The Vampire Slayer marathon on Logo TV)
Positive attributes: Freckles, minimal armpit hair, a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of Joss Wheadons entire body of work, the ability to sing Happy Birthday in at least 3 languages.
Negative attributes: Occasional acne, a near fanatical aversion to folding laundry, strangely attractive to chickens, public drooling.
Associated Colors and Numbers: Puce and 867-5309
2) Lilith Bearclaw Morning Breath (January 10th of odd numbered years to the next time your car breaks down)
Positive attributes: A complete lack of bedbug infestation in your home, neatly trimmed cuticles, the ability to quote Proust in Latvian, very clean kitchen counters.
Negative attributes: An obsessive desire to mow your lawn at 4am on Sundays, occasional outbursts of the theme song to "Friends", always smells like Taco Bell, a third nipple.
Associated colors and numbers: Tidy Bowl blue, and whatever number of RPM's a dentists drill turns at.
3) Tentacled Freshwater Trout ( Alternating Tuesdays to National Dress Up Your Dog Day)
Positive attributes: The ability to juggle, Bangs that don't do that stupid flippy thing when you forget to blow dry them, a passion for fruit, a complete lack of road rage.
Negative attributes: Always writes checks at the grocery store, is never able to figure out which tooth you're talking about when you tell them they have something stuck in their teeth, still wears Loves Baby Soft cologne in their 40's.
Associated colors and numbers: The color of that bridemaids dress you REALLY hated, a random number from the Dewey Decimal System.
There - I think I've covered everthing you'll ever need to know about yourself.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Some thoughts on mental illness and the Arizona shooter
I was watching the news and I just saw a report about the Arizona shooters parent, asking how could they not know? Why didn't they get him help? Why didn't they see?
I'm furious.
How do we know his parents DIDN'T try to get him help? How do we know they didn't see that their son was ill?
I work in the mental health field, and every day I deal with families who are going though the pain of watching a loved one suffer from a mental illness. Here's some of the things I've learned:
Families don't always see that their loved one is ill. You'd be amazed at how well some people can hide their illness, and at how easy it is to not see what you don't want to see. How many of us would want to look at our son or daughter and think they might be a danger to others? How many of us would say "Oh they're a little odd, but they'd never hurt anybody"?
Many, many people with an undiagnosed mental illness will self medicate with drugs and alcohol. Doing this can mask their symptoms for a while, quiet the voices, calm the nerves, but over time it actually makes the illness worse.
Mental illness doesn't happen overnight. It's a decline from normal functioning, and the descent into delusion and paranoia can be a slow process, building slowly over months or even years. In many cases, by the time that families realize how ill their loved one is, it's taken a catastrophic event (an assault, or a suicide attempt) for them to see it.
You cannot force someone to get help if they refuse to do so. At the request of family members, I have sent the police out to clients homes on several occasions, or had Mobile Crisis visit them, only to find out that they had refused to be seen, refused to even let anyone in the door. Unless the person has committed a crime, or has threatened to hurt themselves or someone else, they cannot be forced to come in for treatment. If we can get them in to see a doctor, we can have them placed on a 72 hour hold, but after that, they cannot be held unless declared incompetent and involuntarily committed, which is NOT an easy thing to do.
Getting a newly diagnosed patient with a major psychiatric disorder to take their meds consistently is extremely difficult. It takes a long time to get many clients to understand that the illness they have is chronic, it's life long, and they will be on some form of medication for the rest of their lives. Part of my job consists of giving injections of long acting antipsychotic medications to some of our clients. These are usually clients who have not been compliant with taking pills, have had multiple hospitalizations, and for some of them, multiple imprisonments. Once these clients are on a regular schedule, and their symptoms are under control, they're VERY consistent about coming for their shots. They can feel the difference that the medications make for them, some of them are even able to hold down jobs, and have healthy, loving relationships. But it can take a very long time to get to that point. In some cases it can take involuntary committal, and being on probation before they get it.
What happened in Arizona is horrible beyond words. I'm heartbroken for the victims and their families. I have a son who is just a year older than the youngest victim. I also have a son who is a year younger than the shooter, and as a mother, my heart is also breaking for the parents of the shooter. I can't imagine the hell they're living in right now, and the idea of blaming them for what happened is just sickening to me.
I'm furious.
How do we know his parents DIDN'T try to get him help? How do we know they didn't see that their son was ill?
I work in the mental health field, and every day I deal with families who are going though the pain of watching a loved one suffer from a mental illness. Here's some of the things I've learned:
Families don't always see that their loved one is ill. You'd be amazed at how well some people can hide their illness, and at how easy it is to not see what you don't want to see. How many of us would want to look at our son or daughter and think they might be a danger to others? How many of us would say "Oh they're a little odd, but they'd never hurt anybody"?
Many, many people with an undiagnosed mental illness will self medicate with drugs and alcohol. Doing this can mask their symptoms for a while, quiet the voices, calm the nerves, but over time it actually makes the illness worse.
Mental illness doesn't happen overnight. It's a decline from normal functioning, and the descent into delusion and paranoia can be a slow process, building slowly over months or even years. In many cases, by the time that families realize how ill their loved one is, it's taken a catastrophic event (an assault, or a suicide attempt) for them to see it.
You cannot force someone to get help if they refuse to do so. At the request of family members, I have sent the police out to clients homes on several occasions, or had Mobile Crisis visit them, only to find out that they had refused to be seen, refused to even let anyone in the door. Unless the person has committed a crime, or has threatened to hurt themselves or someone else, they cannot be forced to come in for treatment. If we can get them in to see a doctor, we can have them placed on a 72 hour hold, but after that, they cannot be held unless declared incompetent and involuntarily committed, which is NOT an easy thing to do.
Getting a newly diagnosed patient with a major psychiatric disorder to take their meds consistently is extremely difficult. It takes a long time to get many clients to understand that the illness they have is chronic, it's life long, and they will be on some form of medication for the rest of their lives. Part of my job consists of giving injections of long acting antipsychotic medications to some of our clients. These are usually clients who have not been compliant with taking pills, have had multiple hospitalizations, and for some of them, multiple imprisonments. Once these clients are on a regular schedule, and their symptoms are under control, they're VERY consistent about coming for their shots. They can feel the difference that the medications make for them, some of them are even able to hold down jobs, and have healthy, loving relationships. But it can take a very long time to get to that point. In some cases it can take involuntary committal, and being on probation before they get it.
What happened in Arizona is horrible beyond words. I'm heartbroken for the victims and their families. I have a son who is just a year older than the youngest victim. I also have a son who is a year younger than the shooter, and as a mother, my heart is also breaking for the parents of the shooter. I can't imagine the hell they're living in right now, and the idea of blaming them for what happened is just sickening to me.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Granny Day at the grocery store.
Normally after a weekend of work, I spend Monday doing as little as humanly possible. After 2 back to back days of 12 hours on my feet, taking care of patients, I'm wiped, and about all I have the energy for is getting Wyatt dressed, fed, packing his lunch,and sending him out the door. After that I'm pretty much spent until about 3, just in time for him to get off the bus.
But today, for some inexplicable reason, I decided to be an overachiever.
After Wyatt's bus picked him up I toyed around with the idea of going back to bed, but because his bus was 20 min late due to the cold weather, I'd already had 3 cups of coffee, and if I went back to bed all I'd do is lay there and twitch.
So I went through the kitchen, figured out what I was low on, and decided to hit the grocery store. Since it's so cold today (in the 20's-30's, yeah, go ahead and laugh all my up north friends and family, I've been down here for 7 years now, my blood's thinned out!), I decided to make a pot of beef stew for dinner.
Since I was in a really overachieving mood, I figured I'd run by my office first, then the bank, and then the grocery store. I even took a shower and put on makeup. (Actually, I always put on makeup, since the site of me strolling through the aisles at Lowes, with my naked as the day I was born face is just frightening, and I'm sure, in violation of at least 3 of the Geneva Conventions statutes on torture and cruel and unusual punishment.)
I hit the office, hit the bank, and headed over to Lowes. At this point I was on auto pilot, because if I wasn't I'm sure I would have noticed the HUGE bus with the retirement village logo parked out front of the store.
And I would have ran.
But, I missed it completely.
Into the store I went, list in hand, cart at the ready, all set to run in, get what I needed and run home. Ahh, the best laid plans....
The store was packed to the rafters with septo and octogenarians, all moving at that incredibly slow rate that if you or I tried to move at would cause us to fall over from loss of balance. I think someone had hung a sign on my back saying "If you can't reach what you want, ask me to get it!", because I was stopped every 6 feet by little blue hairs who barely came to my shoulder asking me to get things for them. I'm not that tall, really, I'm 5'4", but in the land of the old apparently I'm an Amazon.
Between reaching for boxes of prunes and Wheatabix, and trying to sidestep people moving at a pace that would make snails honk their horns, my quick little trip turned into the better part of the morning.
By the time I got to the register it was after 11, and there were only 2 cashiers on duty to tend to this mass influx of the Depends Nation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cashier waving to me, saying "I can help you down here" Great, I thought, I can at least check out quicly.
No, the bitch waved me to the "You Scan It" aisle.
I fucking HATE those things, they NEVER work right and it always ends up taking me twice as long to check out. I ended up having to call her over 3 times, because I had produce and beer, and the stupid thing wouldn't believe me when I screamed "I'm 44, just ring up the goddamned beer!!!" at it.
But, eventually, I managed to squeeze my way through the tangle of walkers and hover rounds at the exit door, got home, made the stew, and have spent the better part of the day recovering from the exercise in frustration that was my morning. The stew smells fantastic, probably in part to the addition of about a pint of Stout to the broth, Wyatt should be home soon (hopefully not too loaded down with homework), and I'm looking forward to a nice relaxing evening.
But today, for some inexplicable reason, I decided to be an overachiever.
After Wyatt's bus picked him up I toyed around with the idea of going back to bed, but because his bus was 20 min late due to the cold weather, I'd already had 3 cups of coffee, and if I went back to bed all I'd do is lay there and twitch.
So I went through the kitchen, figured out what I was low on, and decided to hit the grocery store. Since it's so cold today (in the 20's-30's, yeah, go ahead and laugh all my up north friends and family, I've been down here for 7 years now, my blood's thinned out!), I decided to make a pot of beef stew for dinner.
Since I was in a really overachieving mood, I figured I'd run by my office first, then the bank, and then the grocery store. I even took a shower and put on makeup. (Actually, I always put on makeup, since the site of me strolling through the aisles at Lowes, with my naked as the day I was born face is just frightening, and I'm sure, in violation of at least 3 of the Geneva Conventions statutes on torture and cruel and unusual punishment.)
I hit the office, hit the bank, and headed over to Lowes. At this point I was on auto pilot, because if I wasn't I'm sure I would have noticed the HUGE bus with the retirement village logo parked out front of the store.
And I would have ran.
But, I missed it completely.
Into the store I went, list in hand, cart at the ready, all set to run in, get what I needed and run home. Ahh, the best laid plans....
The store was packed to the rafters with septo and octogenarians, all moving at that incredibly slow rate that if you or I tried to move at would cause us to fall over from loss of balance. I think someone had hung a sign on my back saying "If you can't reach what you want, ask me to get it!", because I was stopped every 6 feet by little blue hairs who barely came to my shoulder asking me to get things for them. I'm not that tall, really, I'm 5'4", but in the land of the old apparently I'm an Amazon.
Between reaching for boxes of prunes and Wheatabix, and trying to sidestep people moving at a pace that would make snails honk their horns, my quick little trip turned into the better part of the morning.
By the time I got to the register it was after 11, and there were only 2 cashiers on duty to tend to this mass influx of the Depends Nation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cashier waving to me, saying "I can help you down here" Great, I thought, I can at least check out quicly.
No, the bitch waved me to the "You Scan It" aisle.
I fucking HATE those things, they NEVER work right and it always ends up taking me twice as long to check out. I ended up having to call her over 3 times, because I had produce and beer, and the stupid thing wouldn't believe me when I screamed "I'm 44, just ring up the goddamned beer!!!" at it.
But, eventually, I managed to squeeze my way through the tangle of walkers and hover rounds at the exit door, got home, made the stew, and have spent the better part of the day recovering from the exercise in frustration that was my morning. The stew smells fantastic, probably in part to the addition of about a pint of Stout to the broth, Wyatt should be home soon (hopefully not too loaded down with homework), and I'm looking forward to a nice relaxing evening.
Friday, September 10, 2010
At least they're honest - or at worst they're honest, I'm still deciding.
There's nothing quite like the brutal, unvarnished honesty of kids. Especially my kids.
My boys have very strong opinions, and neither one of them has the slightest hesitation about sharing them. I couldn't even count the number of times over the past 21+ years that Johns belief in his right to share his point of view with anyone in hearing range caused me to blush, cringe, deny he was the fruit of my womb or (more often than not) laugh out loud.
John told my first husband he looked icky in his underwear, Yeah, just picture me trying to smooth that one over. He's also told his father that he was a hypocrite for stating he was a devout catholic after having an affair and leaving his wife of 13 years (he was right). One of Johns classmates in high school said he wanted to be a CNA and John told him "Why would you want to do that? My Moms a nurse, the CNA's are her bitches. You want to be a Nurses bitch?" I made the mistake of asking him what he thought of a new (and I thought, adorable) dress and he told me "You look like Willow from Buffy. Before she turned into a hot lesbian witch" . It took me a couple of minutes to realize that wasn't a compliment. His most recent cringe inducing utterance was the proclaimation that the common denominator in all of my failed marriages was me.
Little shit.
The fact that he's accurate, and taller than me doesn't negate his little shitlyness.
Despite the fact that there's 11 years between them, Wyatt and John are more alike than they are different, especially when it comes to the - let's be so brutally honest that we make Mommy turn multiple shades of red and want to crawl through the floor - aspect of their personalities.
Wyatt has been known to say - in full voice, with as many people around as possible - "Mommy, why is there a hair sticking out of your nose?" Or - "Mommy your hair is turning white, you must be REALLY OLD!". He's also asked me if I'm growing a moustache.
The only thing that's saved his little ass is the fact that 1) He's insanely adorable, and 2) He's completely innocent when he does it. The fact that he's autistic is, I'm sure, a huge part of that. Most kids his age understand that saying things like that will embarrass or hurt, so when they choose to do so there's intent behind it. With Wy there isn't. He's still learning the basics of social interaction, and most of how he interacts is on the level of a 4-5 year old. There's no meanness, no malice or cruelty in what he says, it's just brute, full on honesty.
I was putting my little truth meter to bed the other night, and he reached over and patted my belly and asked me if there was a baby in there. I told him no, and he said "Wow, you're getting really fat!"
Like his older brother, he's right. (and maybe a little bit of a shit too)
I fully acknowledge that my once trim figure has...shall we say blossomed...over the last few years. With being in school all week, and working 12 hour days every weekend for the last 6 1/2 years, it was kind of unavoidable. I've developed a substantial case of Nurses Ass.
I just never thought that my little peanut, who is all about adoring the Mommy, had noticed.
Now, I had every intention of doing something about my Buddha Belly well before Wy said anything, but thanks to the bucket of freezing cold truth he threw in my face, I have some real motivation now. So I'm being more careful about what I eat, I'm weaning myself off cigarettes, and I've started exercising again.
Am I doing this because I want to be healthy? Because I've made a full critical analysis of the health risks of smoking and obesity vs the benefits of a healthy, active lifestyle? Because I know it's the right thing to do for me and my body?
No - it's because I don't want my kid to call me fat again.
My boys have very strong opinions, and neither one of them has the slightest hesitation about sharing them. I couldn't even count the number of times over the past 21+ years that Johns belief in his right to share his point of view with anyone in hearing range caused me to blush, cringe, deny he was the fruit of my womb or (more often than not) laugh out loud.
John told my first husband he looked icky in his underwear, Yeah, just picture me trying to smooth that one over. He's also told his father that he was a hypocrite for stating he was a devout catholic after having an affair and leaving his wife of 13 years (he was right). One of Johns classmates in high school said he wanted to be a CNA and John told him "Why would you want to do that? My Moms a nurse, the CNA's are her bitches. You want to be a Nurses bitch?" I made the mistake of asking him what he thought of a new (and I thought, adorable) dress and he told me "You look like Willow from Buffy. Before she turned into a hot lesbian witch" . It took me a couple of minutes to realize that wasn't a compliment. His most recent cringe inducing utterance was the proclaimation that the common denominator in all of my failed marriages was me.
Little shit.
The fact that he's accurate, and taller than me doesn't negate his little shitlyness.
Despite the fact that there's 11 years between them, Wyatt and John are more alike than they are different, especially when it comes to the - let's be so brutally honest that we make Mommy turn multiple shades of red and want to crawl through the floor - aspect of their personalities.
Wyatt has been known to say - in full voice, with as many people around as possible - "Mommy, why is there a hair sticking out of your nose?" Or - "Mommy your hair is turning white, you must be REALLY OLD!". He's also asked me if I'm growing a moustache.
The only thing that's saved his little ass is the fact that 1) He's insanely adorable, and 2) He's completely innocent when he does it. The fact that he's autistic is, I'm sure, a huge part of that. Most kids his age understand that saying things like that will embarrass or hurt, so when they choose to do so there's intent behind it. With Wy there isn't. He's still learning the basics of social interaction, and most of how he interacts is on the level of a 4-5 year old. There's no meanness, no malice or cruelty in what he says, it's just brute, full on honesty.
I was putting my little truth meter to bed the other night, and he reached over and patted my belly and asked me if there was a baby in there. I told him no, and he said "Wow, you're getting really fat!"
Like his older brother, he's right. (and maybe a little bit of a shit too)
I fully acknowledge that my once trim figure has...shall we say blossomed...over the last few years. With being in school all week, and working 12 hour days every weekend for the last 6 1/2 years, it was kind of unavoidable. I've developed a substantial case of Nurses Ass.
I just never thought that my little peanut, who is all about adoring the Mommy, had noticed.
Now, I had every intention of doing something about my Buddha Belly well before Wy said anything, but thanks to the bucket of freezing cold truth he threw in my face, I have some real motivation now. So I'm being more careful about what I eat, I'm weaning myself off cigarettes, and I've started exercising again.
Am I doing this because I want to be healthy? Because I've made a full critical analysis of the health risks of smoking and obesity vs the benefits of a healthy, active lifestyle? Because I know it's the right thing to do for me and my body?
No - it's because I don't want my kid to call me fat again.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wyatts first sleepover!
Wyatt had his first honest to goodness sleepover tonight!
I know, in the vast scheme of things this doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you're raising a kid with autism the things that other parents take for granted become world changing events. Wy's never had a friend spend the night before, he's never even expressed an interest in anything like that.
Wyatt likes other kids, he enjoys being around them, but he doesn't really interact for more than a few minutes at a time. He loves other children, but he only directly interacts with them for short periods unless he can control the interaction. Wyatt just assumes that everyone loves the same things he does. Since most 9 year olds really don't care about Auteck 3000 car washes with PDQ cleaning systems and undercarriage washer jets, it doesn't leave him much else to talk about with them, and after a few minutes he ends up wandering off to play on his own.
He doesn't seem to mind, but I've worried for a long time now that he might not get to have the kinds of experiences that typically developing kids do. Last night he got to have one of those experiences, and it's made me so happy for him.
Our friends Jamie and Karen have a son Wyatts age. Damien is a great kid, he's really bright and very sweet. Damien also has Aspergers Syndrome. Wy's autism is very high functioning, so he and Damien are at about the same level. The boys have played together before and they get along well, and when J&K came over 2 weeks ago with Damien and Austin, the 3 boys had a blast together. Damien decided he and Wy should have a sleep over, and Wy was all for it, so Karen and I decided tonight would be a good night for it.
OK, Damien decided.
Karen sent me a text today saying Damien had been bugging her for 2 weeks asking when he was going to get to come over and spend the night, and Wy's been doing the same thing on my end. So we caved and said tonight was the night. As soon as Karen told Damien he had a bag packed and was waiting for her in the car.
Really. Karen sent me this about 5 min after she told him he was sleeping over
Karen dropped Damien off this afternoon, and he and Wy were playing video games, and giving each other detailed instructions on which buttons to push, how to jump, no no no - go get that gem, no not that one, the other one. They were like 2 pint sized drill instructors, but they never got mad at each other. Whoever was playing would do what the other said, and they were both having fun. After a while, Wy decided he wanted to watch elevator videos on youtube, so he was doing that while Damien was sitting next to him playing Spongebob.
They weren't playing together, they were each sitting there doing their own thing, but they were enjoying being around each other. They'd each wander off periodically, go do something different, and then end up in the same place and reconnect, play together for a bit, and then go do their own thing again. Which was cool.
At one point Damien started teasing Wy because he was watching Thomas The Tank Engine videos. He told Wy "Dude, you watch that? That's a baby show!"
Wy was highly insulted, but Damiens right, it is kind of a baby show. Damien went downstairs and was watching TV and asked me how old Wyatt is. I told him he's 9, he'll be 10 next month. Damien said "I'm 11, I'm almost a teenager, I just have to turn 13."
I loved it, it was almost like having 2 Wyatts here.
What I found really interesting was the way they knew without saying that when one of them needed to step away, it was OK. They just "Got" where each other was at, no explaining needed, since they're both in the same place in terms of their social functioning. It was really nice for them.
I got them tucked in around 10, they both went right off to sleep with no problems.
They're playing together in Wyatts room right now, again, giving each other instructions on the video game, and complaining about Luna (our special needs cat who's decided she belongs in Wy's room with the boys)trying to sit in their laps while they're playing. Luna's in there yowling, and Damien said "That sounds like dying cat sounds" Wy said "You're right, it sounds angry"
They're both right, Luna has this meow that could shatter glass.
Both the boys said they'd like to have another sleepover again.
I know, in the vast scheme of things this doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you're raising a kid with autism the things that other parents take for granted become world changing events. Wy's never had a friend spend the night before, he's never even expressed an interest in anything like that.
Wyatt likes other kids, he enjoys being around them, but he doesn't really interact for more than a few minutes at a time. He loves other children, but he only directly interacts with them for short periods unless he can control the interaction. Wyatt just assumes that everyone loves the same things he does. Since most 9 year olds really don't care about Auteck 3000 car washes with PDQ cleaning systems and undercarriage washer jets, it doesn't leave him much else to talk about with them, and after a few minutes he ends up wandering off to play on his own.
He doesn't seem to mind, but I've worried for a long time now that he might not get to have the kinds of experiences that typically developing kids do. Last night he got to have one of those experiences, and it's made me so happy for him.
Our friends Jamie and Karen have a son Wyatts age. Damien is a great kid, he's really bright and very sweet. Damien also has Aspergers Syndrome. Wy's autism is very high functioning, so he and Damien are at about the same level. The boys have played together before and they get along well, and when J&K came over 2 weeks ago with Damien and Austin, the 3 boys had a blast together. Damien decided he and Wy should have a sleep over, and Wy was all for it, so Karen and I decided tonight would be a good night for it.
OK, Damien decided.
Karen sent me a text today saying Damien had been bugging her for 2 weeks asking when he was going to get to come over and spend the night, and Wy's been doing the same thing on my end. So we caved and said tonight was the night. As soon as Karen told Damien he had a bag packed and was waiting for her in the car.
Really. Karen sent me this about 5 min after she told him he was sleeping over
Karen dropped Damien off this afternoon, and he and Wy were playing video games, and giving each other detailed instructions on which buttons to push, how to jump, no no no - go get that gem, no not that one, the other one. They were like 2 pint sized drill instructors, but they never got mad at each other. Whoever was playing would do what the other said, and they were both having fun. After a while, Wy decided he wanted to watch elevator videos on youtube, so he was doing that while Damien was sitting next to him playing Spongebob.
They weren't playing together, they were each sitting there doing their own thing, but they were enjoying being around each other. They'd each wander off periodically, go do something different, and then end up in the same place and reconnect, play together for a bit, and then go do their own thing again. Which was cool.
At one point Damien started teasing Wy because he was watching Thomas The Tank Engine videos. He told Wy "Dude, you watch that? That's a baby show!"
Wy was highly insulted, but Damiens right, it is kind of a baby show. Damien went downstairs and was watching TV and asked me how old Wyatt is. I told him he's 9, he'll be 10 next month. Damien said "I'm 11, I'm almost a teenager, I just have to turn 13."
I loved it, it was almost like having 2 Wyatts here.
What I found really interesting was the way they knew without saying that when one of them needed to step away, it was OK. They just "Got" where each other was at, no explaining needed, since they're both in the same place in terms of their social functioning. It was really nice for them.
I got them tucked in around 10, they both went right off to sleep with no problems.
They're both right, Luna has this meow that could shatter glass.
Both the boys said they'd like to have another sleepover again.
Friday, August 13, 2010
In Memory Of...
Those of you that know me through the Pagan community also know that yesterday Isaac Bonewits passed away. Isaac was one of the most important figures in the modern Pagan community - teacher, leader, musician, general troublemaker (in the best possible way).
I'm not going to list Isaacs many accomplishments here, frankly his own webpage does a much better job of that than I ever could. For those of you that are interested, here's a link to his page http://www.neopagan.net/IB_Bio.html
What I AM going to do is write a little bit about the man I knew. I said it yesterday on FB, but it bears repeating, Isaac was a hell of a guy.
The first time I ever met him was at the first Wellspring Gathering in 1991. My girlfriend Kathleen had talked me into coming along with her and her boyfriend Bill, because she didn't want to be the only non-pagan girl there. It sounded like a fun time, and I'd always had an interest in paganism, so I went.
I don't remember who it was that introduced me to him, but I do remember that he reminded me of a slightly scruffy, mildly daft college professor - you know, the kind who's prone to going off on tangents that have nothing to do with the topic at hand but are actually far more interesting than the lesson itself. In some ways that first impression of him was dead on, but Isaac had a razor sharp intellect, and a wicked sense of humor. Wicked enough to forgive him his love of bad puns.
Somehow Kathleen and I got roped into tending one of the directional fires for the main ritual (I think I may have volunteered us). Turned out we were tending the fire in the North, directly behind where the alter and Isaac were. Being the urban chicks we were, we promptly piled too much fuel on it and nearly put it out in the middle of the ritual. I remember the 2 of us on our knees, blowing on the fire to try and get it to flare back up. We must have been making a little to much noise with all the huffing and puffing, because I heard someone going PSSST! PSST!. I looked up, and Isaac was looking over his shoulder, laughing at us, and holding out a bottle of oil. We got the fire stoked back up, and periodically Isaac would look back over at us and start laughing again.
The ritual itself, and the whole weekend would have a profound impact on my life that continues to this day. As I told Isaac at the time, I went away a nice Catholic girl from the suburbs and came back a Druid. After that weekend, I became an active member of ADF, a part of Green Man Grove, and eventually Bard for that grove. Isaac and his family were living in NJ at the time, and since Green Man Grove was based in Jersey City, we were fortunate enough to have him come to grove functions. Isaac and Debs son Arthur and my son John were both toddlers at the time, and I remember enjoying watching them play together. Isaac took such pleasure from Arthur, it was really lovely to see.
Isaac asked me to take over running ADF's regalia department, which I did for 2 years. It's not as big a deal as it might sound, at that time ADF regalia consisted of some pins and pendants, copies of Isaacs book Real Magick, a few back issues of Druids Progress (ADF's Newsletter/magazine/journal), and for some unknown reason, 12 copies of a book on Day Lilies. But I was honored that he asked me.
One of the things that sticks out most in my memories of him is the way he would always make time for people who needed his help or support. When my first husband and I split up, Isaac was very supportive and caring, and checked on me by phone to make sure that I was doing OK. Everyone around me (with a few exceptions) assumed that I was doing fine, but Isaac took the time to make sure that I was ok, and there were more than a few times that he let me cry on his shoulder. When my last marriage fell apart and I was devestated, Isaac took the time to make contact through FB, and give me some emotional support. We hadn't seen each other in many years, but he still cared enough to let me know that he was there, and I'll never forget that.
His kindness wasn't limited to just people in his circle. I was part of a coven on Long Island, and one of our coven sisters was going through a nasty divorce and a VERY nasty custody battle over her son. Her husband, who was a practicing pagan and had been to ritual at my home on several occasions, had dragged the word "Witch" into the custody battle. His lawyer was accusing her of sacrificing animals, devil worship, orgies, all the usual slander that's associated with the accusation of being a witch. He was trying to have her declared an unfit mother and take sole custody of the baby. Isaac had never met my coven sister, but I asked him to contact her, and he got in touch with her and offered to come to court and give testimony as to what Wicca and Paganism are, and what they are NOT. The case ended with a joint custody decision, in large part because of Isaacs testimony, and his efforts to educate the court on Pagan spirituality.
Even though it's been a long time since I've seen Isaac, I'll miss him. I'll miss his songs, his jokes about dirgelike pagan chants, his occasional copping a feel (OK, his frequent copping a feel, this was Isaac after all), his bad puns, and the opportunity to tease him about his total lack of a backside. I'll miss the books he would have written, the rituals he would have led, the songs he would have sung.
I'll miss the man who inspired me to explore my spirituality, who encouraged my creativity and who never failed to show kindness and support when it was needed.
As I said, a hell of a guy.
I'm not going to list Isaacs many accomplishments here, frankly his own webpage does a much better job of that than I ever could. For those of you that are interested, here's a link to his page http://www.neopagan.net/IB_Bio.html
What I AM going to do is write a little bit about the man I knew. I said it yesterday on FB, but it bears repeating, Isaac was a hell of a guy.
The first time I ever met him was at the first Wellspring Gathering in 1991. My girlfriend Kathleen had talked me into coming along with her and her boyfriend Bill, because she didn't want to be the only non-pagan girl there. It sounded like a fun time, and I'd always had an interest in paganism, so I went.
I don't remember who it was that introduced me to him, but I do remember that he reminded me of a slightly scruffy, mildly daft college professor - you know, the kind who's prone to going off on tangents that have nothing to do with the topic at hand but are actually far more interesting than the lesson itself. In some ways that first impression of him was dead on, but Isaac had a razor sharp intellect, and a wicked sense of humor. Wicked enough to forgive him his love of bad puns.
Somehow Kathleen and I got roped into tending one of the directional fires for the main ritual (I think I may have volunteered us). Turned out we were tending the fire in the North, directly behind where the alter and Isaac were. Being the urban chicks we were, we promptly piled too much fuel on it and nearly put it out in the middle of the ritual. I remember the 2 of us on our knees, blowing on the fire to try and get it to flare back up. We must have been making a little to much noise with all the huffing and puffing, because I heard someone going PSSST! PSST!. I looked up, and Isaac was looking over his shoulder, laughing at us, and holding out a bottle of oil. We got the fire stoked back up, and periodically Isaac would look back over at us and start laughing again.
The ritual itself, and the whole weekend would have a profound impact on my life that continues to this day. As I told Isaac at the time, I went away a nice Catholic girl from the suburbs and came back a Druid. After that weekend, I became an active member of ADF, a part of Green Man Grove, and eventually Bard for that grove. Isaac and his family were living in NJ at the time, and since Green Man Grove was based in Jersey City, we were fortunate enough to have him come to grove functions. Isaac and Debs son Arthur and my son John were both toddlers at the time, and I remember enjoying watching them play together. Isaac took such pleasure from Arthur, it was really lovely to see.
Isaac asked me to take over running ADF's regalia department, which I did for 2 years. It's not as big a deal as it might sound, at that time ADF regalia consisted of some pins and pendants, copies of Isaacs book Real Magick, a few back issues of Druids Progress (ADF's Newsletter/magazine/journal), and for some unknown reason, 12 copies of a book on Day Lilies. But I was honored that he asked me.
One of the things that sticks out most in my memories of him is the way he would always make time for people who needed his help or support. When my first husband and I split up, Isaac was very supportive and caring, and checked on me by phone to make sure that I was doing OK. Everyone around me (with a few exceptions) assumed that I was doing fine, but Isaac took the time to make sure that I was ok, and there were more than a few times that he let me cry on his shoulder. When my last marriage fell apart and I was devestated, Isaac took the time to make contact through FB, and give me some emotional support. We hadn't seen each other in many years, but he still cared enough to let me know that he was there, and I'll never forget that.
His kindness wasn't limited to just people in his circle. I was part of a coven on Long Island, and one of our coven sisters was going through a nasty divorce and a VERY nasty custody battle over her son. Her husband, who was a practicing pagan and had been to ritual at my home on several occasions, had dragged the word "Witch" into the custody battle. His lawyer was accusing her of sacrificing animals, devil worship, orgies, all the usual slander that's associated with the accusation of being a witch. He was trying to have her declared an unfit mother and take sole custody of the baby. Isaac had never met my coven sister, but I asked him to contact her, and he got in touch with her and offered to come to court and give testimony as to what Wicca and Paganism are, and what they are NOT. The case ended with a joint custody decision, in large part because of Isaacs testimony, and his efforts to educate the court on Pagan spirituality.
Even though it's been a long time since I've seen Isaac, I'll miss him. I'll miss his songs, his jokes about dirgelike pagan chants, his occasional copping a feel (OK, his frequent copping a feel, this was Isaac after all), his bad puns, and the opportunity to tease him about his total lack of a backside. I'll miss the books he would have written, the rituals he would have led, the songs he would have sung.
I'll miss the man who inspired me to explore my spirituality, who encouraged my creativity and who never failed to show kindness and support when it was needed.
As I said, a hell of a guy.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Why Suburban Chicken?
I knew you'd ask that.
It's in honor of my Salvadoran naighbors continued efforts to keep chickens in their yard, which invariably seem to end up in MY yard, driving my poor dog into fits of doggie excitement, and the chicken into a feathery freaked out flurry of wings and clucks.
OK, now that all that crap is out of the way....
It's been a LONG time since I've written anything new. The occasional FB note, yes, but really, other than a somewhat long winded, this is what's been happening the last few months, nothing of any real interest or consequence. And I've missed it.
Things have been pretty good lately, and when my life is settled, I tend to get a little complacent. OK, let's get real here, I get fat, happy and lazy. Which I am now, most of the time.
After close to a decade of being stressed, semi bitter and cranky it's a nice change, but apparently it doesn't do much for keeping the creative juices flowing, which is something I've been mulling over a bit lately.
I wonder sometimes if my writing is based in the need to rant and spew about whatever is twisting my knickers at the moment. Is my need to be creative feuled by a desire to commit emotional bulemia, binging on stress and anger, digesting it into something humorous and then purging it onto a computer screen?
Or am I just too lazy to actually put forth the effort it takes to write more frequently than crisis to crisis?
Who the fuck knows? Not me, that's for damn sure.
So, that's what's been spinning through my warped little head lately.
It's in honor of my Salvadoran naighbors continued efforts to keep chickens in their yard, which invariably seem to end up in MY yard, driving my poor dog into fits of doggie excitement, and the chicken into a feathery freaked out flurry of wings and clucks.
OK, now that all that crap is out of the way....
It's been a LONG time since I've written anything new. The occasional FB note, yes, but really, other than a somewhat long winded, this is what's been happening the last few months, nothing of any real interest or consequence. And I've missed it.
Things have been pretty good lately, and when my life is settled, I tend to get a little complacent. OK, let's get real here, I get fat, happy and lazy. Which I am now, most of the time.
After close to a decade of being stressed, semi bitter and cranky it's a nice change, but apparently it doesn't do much for keeping the creative juices flowing, which is something I've been mulling over a bit lately.
I wonder sometimes if my writing is based in the need to rant and spew about whatever is twisting my knickers at the moment. Is my need to be creative feuled by a desire to commit emotional bulemia, binging on stress and anger, digesting it into something humorous and then purging it onto a computer screen?
Or am I just too lazy to actually put forth the effort it takes to write more frequently than crisis to crisis?
Who the fuck knows? Not me, that's for damn sure.
So, that's what's been spinning through my warped little head lately.
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