Wrap-up

Well, today is the day I move out of my house. This was my dream house when I moved in, I thought it would be the last place I ever lived. But instead it became my prison...partly b/c of the remoteness of it and partly for other reasons. These last few months have really been rough between me and the hubby. So, although I am moving out into a smaller apartment, I am excited about the future and finally feel like a free human being again--like my life is my own. I have lived so long without being able to make my own decisions about where I'll live that I feel... unshackled is the word that comes to mind.

That is pretty big news, but I also wanted to write about how the 4th of July went. The most magical moment was watching Ian's face as he watched the fireworks. He had an enthralled half-smile and I could see the reflection of the fireworks in his eyes. It was really a beautiful moment, watching the fireworks in Ian's eyes. Riley, was entranced as well, judging my his pointing and bouncing but my husband had a hold of him so I didn't get to see the close-up of his expressions.

What's next? I am off to work on another degree so I can be employed in a field I actually have an interest in. The future is bright.

I have been facebooking it up lately, contacting people I haven't seen in years. I used to only use facebook to spy on my nieces and talk to people I actually talked to on a regular basis. Now, I see the value in having a page just to connect with other people like extended family and old friends.

I think another thing that left me cold with facebook was all the has-beens from my high school who were on there, so whenever I would log on I had a page full of bad grammar slang and binge-drinking-party updates--and these are 30-somethings.

I felt guilty about de-friending anyone but these were all people I haven't spoken to in years and barely knew in the first place. Plus, they were really making my facebook page a crappy place to hang out. So, I de-friended alot of them. If anyone notices, the excuse I'll give is that I was job searching and only wanted professional contacts and family on my page (which is true in part) in case anyone wanted to look into it, they would see what a straight arrow I was. But all that just to say this, I don't want people who can't spell or construct sentences to leave their moronic ramblings on my page! My facebook page is a classy place.

Summer 2011

In September, when I look back at this summer in hindsight, I will remember the swimming pool with Ian bravely jumping in from the sides and Riley clutching my swimsuit for dear life.

I will remember riding the beach cruiser with the carriage attached to the back around the neighborhood, but never by the duckpond after the time Ian tried to jump out while the bike was moving because he was so excited about the ducks and the water.

I will remember my boys sweet identical brown eyes in the rear-view mirror and how we all three like country.

I will remember my boys piling in a dogpile on me, both clamoring for the biggest hugs, and me trying to hug both equally and simultaneously.

I will remember your faces at the fireworks.

I will remember chasing Ian on the beach and putting Riley to sleep in the shade of the umbrella.

China Cup

Well, to my surprise, people I am not related to read my blog. 'Bout time you folks realized just how exciting this place is and dropped by.

Also, had time to cool off and decided to change the title to my last blog as 'forget you...'

Now to the meat and bones of tonite's entry. For those of you who notice such things, it is another weekend night and I have nothing else to do. A social worker came by the house, at my request, to help me with some parenting techniques. It's part of a parent support program. She seemed surprised at my lack of social life and suggested I try to get out more and do things for myself so I wouldn't be so pent up and toddlermomonthebrinkofinsanity-ish. So, I did. I went to this really neat flea market and found a fine china 6-piece cup/saucer/salad plate set. For only 28 bucks! I put it on my table and in no time at all my son broke the handle off one of the cups. I screamed out, 'GD it'. Which is a word I don't usually scream out, so my hubby sensed I was at my most frustrated and removed our son to his bedroom. I was busy gluing the 4 pieces of the handle back to the cup, for appearances sake, when my husband walks back into the room.

'What's the big deal?', he wonders aloud, 'if you got it at the flea market it's probably just junk.' What a prick.

I explain fine china to him and comparatively price off ebay that a cup itself is 16 bucks, so for me to get what I did is pretty good but a service with a missing cup is worthless as a set and all you can do is sell it for scrap if you wanted. I am beginning to fear I will never have an estate set. I really want one, just to have it all set up in the formal dining room. But you are going into four figures for an estate set and now that I'm not working, and all, it may be awhile before I see one of those. I'm thinking of just asking everybody who buys me a christmas present to buy a different part of the set. In five years or so, I may have it completed. Some people do things like that for charity, I'll do it for china.

Forget You, Proctor and Gamble

I am so mad at that Molly Hincka Special Olympics commercial. Of course, bravo to her that she has accomplished so much. But how about the rest of us special parents who, despite all of our efforts and belief, do not have children who defy their diagnosis.

Maybe we just aren't the parents Mrs. Hincka is, maybe we just don't believe enough. That's the message I'm getting. I think Proctor and Gamble is sensationalizing something rare and miraculous--like running despite all odds. I guess the rest of us who have special kids just didn't believe as hard as Mrs. Hincka did.

Well, fuck you Proctor & Gamble. It's a fucking insensitive commercial. It implies that if your child doesn't defeat the odds, then you don't believe in them enough.

I'm sick of that shit, that miracle bullshit. Miracles are rare. Most of us are struggling through this and I'm tired of having my faith questioned because my child hasn't been healed miraculously. Where are all the articles on the parents who tried everything and still struggle with reaching their kids? Where are all the articles on how the parents cope on a day-to-day basis who have special needs kids living at home? We are not special ed teachers or therapists, we are not trained in this. Those type of resources need to be out there in as much abundance as all these snake-oil propaganda.

Because what do we do special parents? When our child gets diagnosed? We live in denial, we refuse to say the words autistic or retarded. We secretively use google only to discover these conditions can be cured miraculously solely by the mother's belief. That's all it takes. Why is it so fucking hard to find articles on how to apply ABA therapy at home and what ABA therapy is in layman's terms. We need real solutions on how to deal with our stress and help our child live productively, not sold on a parade of exceptions who defied the odds.

The Future Looks Dim

Oh, my gosh, I am so frustrated right now with Ian's development.

He lost skills and is back in diapers. I am so sad. I am fearing I need to live to be over 100 so I will be able to care for him. He is not there. I can't reach him.

My husband is in such denial, he won't even use the word autistic.

I saw this video that was supposed to inspire hope, it was a severely autistic person's essay, this person could write but not speak apparently. It was a very profound, educated view point about how in tune autistics are with the whole universe and if they aren't communicating in a narrow, limited way then people don't even view them as a person. What was so dim about it was the author couldn't function in society normally. I let myself have hope sometimes that he will function normally and be able to make a living, then I see something like this where a highly intelligent autistic person doesn't have control of their rocking or hands and can't make words.

I am just going to bed now.

not a frustrated post

I found I mostly blog when I'm upset about something so I decided to take a cue from my fakeity-fake co-bloggers who have perfect lives and never get into arguments or yell at their kids and write something sugary for my masses of readers out there.

This will not be visceral and edgy like my other posts. And yes, I know I am giving myself too much credit there.

My darling, son, Ian. You are upstairs jumping on the trampoline and it is 5:30 am. I am on my 3rd cup of coffee trying to keep up with you. Your energy is amazing. You are so brave, too. For a four year old, you attack the grown up pool like you don't need your life jacket and waders and have me running behind you, calling on you to wait. You run on oblivious, fast. Many people mistake you for an older child, you are big for your age--and strong.

My sweet, son, Riley. You are sleeping right now, but when awake you try your best to follow in your brother's footsteps. You yell when he yells, fight when he fights, attack the dog on his cue. You laugh at yourself when I chastise you for it. As if we are both in on the same joke. I see you have a sense of humor. You have the gift to make any babysitter fall in love with you. And you are a good dancer! Yes, you dance. You clap your hands and wave your arms in the air to any music or singing. You are a happy, loud baby.

He Should Say

So, my husband misplaces his credit card and asks me for it. I say I haven't had it for days. He proceeds to look through my wallet and purse. I let him, I ask to look through his wallet to make sure he didn't overlook it. He ignores me. The card is lost, officially lost. I can tell by the knot in his eyebrow that he is blaming me. I remind him of the last time he used the card (at the gas station the day earlier) and proceed to remind him, the last time I used the card was days before that (at wal-mart). He is without a doubt the loser of the card.

So, he finds another thing to pick a fight with me about. Because now he is just upset and full of venom and needs to find something that is my fault. Then we end up fighting over the mortgage, which I am no longer paying into. I tell him he is lucky he is married to someone who paid into it as long as I did because it is a luxury none of his co-workers have and oh, by the way, some women don't pay anything at all to their husbands. Then I unloaded my own bit of venom on that topic which ended with me saying that I would just move out with the kids and problem solved.

Now, he finds himself in pout mode upstairs in the guest room where he retreated to with his individually prepared plate of spaghetti when he realized that when provoked I will take an argument into divorce-talk territory. Now he is walking around all pout-sacked out of it and actually has me apologizing to him.

I may have committed full-frontal argument assault but he goes and lays the guilt trips on me and has me saying sorry to him when he started the argument in the first place--over a topic we were already agreed upon--and just because he was pissy over losing his card. He should be sorry to me. He should say, 'you're right, I can't do it without you.'

I never get that type of gratitude.

Give Me a Little Hope

Today was a really rough day with Ian, my autistic 4-year-old. He has regressed on his potty training and is back in pull-ups. He had accident after accident but what bothered me about it was the complete lack of effort at using the potty. He was just completely complacent about the accidents.

Then after a doctor's visit, where he was non-stop screaming for 45 minutes, he came home and had a messy number 2 accident that was all over the trampoline and I just lost it. I really yelled at him, I feel so ashamed, but I really let him have it. I am such a bad mom, I yelled at my son that he was shitting himself like a retard. That's awful. I feel so bad about it.

Then I came down and cried on my couch for a few seconds because I was bewildered at God for doing this to my son and me. I was also so disappointed and ashamed in the type of Mom I was, raging at my sweet little boy. He's not t in the wrong, I'm in the wrong. I'm an awful mom.

Then I chilled out and went back upstairs and found that Ian had another number 1 accident, but this time, I sweetly asked him, 'Did you forget? Go pee-pee in the potty.' I was still feeling low about the whole scene for the rest of the afternoon. I have another appointment with a child psychologist coming up, maybe they can shed some light on what is happening.

Finally, a few hours later, I was patiently having a talk with him about going pee-pee in the potty but he wasn't there. He had the 1,000-yard-stare as I went through my talk that digressed into a whiny forshadowing of the type of work he might find if he doesn't straighten himself out now and I finally just hung my head down b/c he just wasn't there. His eyes were vacant. And I said, 'come on, Ian, gimme a little hope, say your ABCs.' Then, he looked at me, and recited them. In his own baby talk way but he was on beat and got most of the letters right. He delivered. Gave me a little hope.

Time to Write my Story

Well, today was my last day of work. I really felt like running out of there and driving to the ocean and diving in b/c I was free of that place. Or doing something monumental like that. I just came home and did the laundry, though. Then I packed the car to go to the beach tomorrow with the kids. I thought I'd use the extra daycare time to get ahead on the housework b/c now that daycare is finished, I may never mop these floors again!

Anyway, I was watching a show, a real tearjerker for me. But my husband didn't get it, probably b/c it was a poignant drama about motherhood and not sci-fi garbage.

Then, I decided it was time to write my story. I'm not sure yet what part of my story I will write, or what my story will be. Definitely a work of fiction but I want to base it on something real so I can reach in and express something. I just think that makes it better, when there are real emotions to it...So, here goes....

Ugh, I can't stand those people

You know what I really hate about where I work? The superior attitude of the ivy-league grads towards everyone else in our organization. They are seriously deluded. I mean, there are a few who are cool peeps, who I consider friends, but they are exceptions and they know they are the exceptions of their peer group, too. I was thinking of a good way to describe them. I came up with socially inept, deluded, and possessing a superiority complex--although I am not licensed to give that diagnosis.

I keep coming back to deluded because they are in positions where people are forced to work for them. But they think that they are better human beings for being in their position at work and only socially circulate amongst each other. I think if the people who work for them were given an option, they would opt out 98% of the time. I also think if most of the people who work for you want to kill you, then you're not a good boss. But I've been watching and what they do is schmooze over the boss so effectively that they can shit down everybody else's throats. They look down on everybody but don't put any effort into really knowing anybody before judging them on any other criteria besides where did they graduate from. It's like if you didn't graduate from their school, you're not worth their time.

What I mean by socially inept is to leave 'em alone at a night-out or a company picnic, OMG. They completely don't know how to interact with anybody else. They become all stiff and mono-syllabic(is that the word?). Or they can't process jokes. It's weird. Uncomfortable.

Now, that I am quitting that place, I am ashamed to admit that I now realize I let a little of that superiority complex rub off on me, too, while I was there.

Now, I am getting back to the place I was in before, when I was a big city yankee girl with blue-collar roots and if you couldn't physically back-up your traffic complaint you have to button your lip b/c some road rage situations actually lead to real fights. Not that I ever got into one of those, but I didn't feel superior to every driver on the road because of how I looked on paper. You can't piss all over people and then pull out your resume to win an argument, is what I'm getting at.

But my husband still possesses that frustrating holier-than-thou attitude. He has been letting his work persona rub off here and pulling his shitty attitude around the house and we have been fighting over it big time. I am seriously fed up and about 98% convinced I'm moving out here in a few months. I have some interviews lined up for April, so we are just going to see where this goes. I am not shutting any doors, even if it means I move to a different city.

Let me give an example. We are watching a movie and this sloppy, old, drunk mom comes home and her sons are looking at her all full of shame and sadness. My husband pipes up, 'that's gonna be you two months after you quit your job.' You know that led to a fight. He says he was joking, but I think there was truth to it. Now, that I am outside of that organization he is getting that workplace attitude towards me. But I'm not going to stand for it b/c I can leave and make a stand for myself, unlike the poor souls who work for there.

Time we all woke up to the real world and realized if someone can hurt you physically or emotionally, then you better tread lightly with them--it doesn't matter where you graduated from.

Unhooked

My husband laughed at me in the van on the ride home. We were discussing whether or not some drugs should be legalized; he was for it and I was against.

I said that stuff has to be controlled b/c if it was easy to come by society would go into a decline and I don't want my kids to have easy access and get the hook put in 'em. He, of course, being from Berkeley, was inclined to disagree and said he knew plenty of smart people who dabbled in illegal substances without any declining of society to be seen or heard of.

The debate raged on, then at one point he finally asked me what my proof was for my beliefs, did I know any drug addicts since I was speaking so candidly on the addict's part? As a matter of fact, I do. I say. Myself.

He sneers like he knows I am reaching and he knows I don't do drugs. I have been known to cheat, lie, and employ histrionics to win our little debates but I talk through his momentary sardonic silence to elaborate that I was addicted to prescription painkillers for about six months.

I proceed that I was not addicted in the sense of breaking myself to support my habit but addicted b/c once my prescription ran out I could not stop thinking about them. There was really a period where I thought of them everyday and how I needed them b/c I stubbed my toe, or the wind was stinging my eyes, or any little discomfort would make me mad with painkiller desire.

I understood from that a little bit of what addicts go through. I thought I would live with that desire for the rest of my life. However, it's been six months and now I can talk about how I used to feel about the pills. I remember trying to think up illnesses I might come by to be able to get another prescription. Luckily, I am pretty healthy and hate going to the doctor. Also, luckily, that stuff is hard to get. If it was easy to come by, I might still be drooling on my couch right now instead of writing this blog.

But what I wanted to get out there in blog land is the itch does go away. The hook does unhook itself. It took six months but I finally don't want them anymore, I don't remember how they made me feel, I don't yearn for them. Now, I only remember remembering them and think they are very bad for people. I heard before that once an addict, always an addict, and you never stop craving it. Those are the people who gave into their cravings talking. You do stop craving it. You just have to stay off it for a long enough time.

I can see how you may think you never stop craving it if you stayed in the tunnel the whole time and never made it to the light on the other side. Then everytime you quit and you hit the long dark tunnel, you might end up giving up. You might think you will always have the cravings. But you won't. At least I didn't.

Anyways, I'm not some slacker weird-o loser person who is hooked on drugs. I'm a model citizen, ask anybody. But I want to share my story about how addictions can be beat.

Maybe since I'm not a hardcore addict with a history of backsliding, some people may not think that counts. Well, it counts enough to give me the credibility to say keep drugs illegal. Drugs turn people into zombies. They're dream-killers.

Lifetime Movies

I developed a new interest in Craigslist after watching the lifetime movie about the Craigslist Killer. I know CL took down their erotic services add but that couldn't have stopped it, they probably just post somewhere else. Somewhere else like the casual encounters section.

So, I'm crusing through casual encounters fighting the urge to respond and tell these desperate people what their doing wrong--posting pics of their youknowwhat. I don't think women get on these sights and look for that. And even worse than those guys, are the ones who post pics of them in bed with someone else. What type of response is that supposed to inspire? I kind of feel sad for the girl in the pic. Then I kind of feel sad for the guy in the pic b/c he is just way off base if this is what he's posting to entice a new love interest.

Then I think, maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe I'm the weird one here. Maybe there is a whole world out there of women who find those types of ads & pics appealing.

Then I think...who are they?

The women who respond to those ads???

Do I pass them by at Wal-mart? Do they live next door? Do we work togethor?

I am looking at all of you with more scrutiny now. I'm wondering which of you Wal-mart shoppers are the one who put a pic on CL? And which of you hum-drum housewives at the playground are the one who responded?

CL changed the way I see people this weekend.

Then the dominant/submissive ads. So, for clarity as I read these, my inner voice provides feedback to the ads, which I'll share here in some parts. One starts off asking if I want a massage. I kind of roll my shoulders and think I could use one. Then he goes on to say he wants to lick feet clean after the massage. Well, he lost me there. I keep reading. Now, it's becoming another of my fascinations with observing human nature. My others are reality TV, true crime books, crime shows, and of course, blogs.

So, another ad was from some dom. That means dominant person in the whole role-play thing they do; I'm all acting like I know. OK, so the dom opens with the line 'you know you want it.' I ask myself 'do I?' Then I tell myself, 'I have been cooking up a storm this weekend only to chew up bites and spit them out because I am cutting weight, so maybe I do hate myself and I AM the person who is supposed to be reading this ad.' So, I continue reading. These doms are tricky. They tell you something is a fact and you proceed to the next step of their logic b/c they're so self-assured. Then, when the next line is something scary about clothespins, my inner voice replies back with a sarcastic, 'ahhhhh, you tricked me, you dom. I don't want your clothes pins, I just like to create things in the kitchen and am under a lot of stress right now to be a certain size.'

Now you may be wondering how my 3 days of 0 calories consumed & 500 burnt went. It lasted one day. The next day I consumed 1000 (b/c I was frickn' starving) and burnt 600. Then today, I have only had a cup of coffee and I licked my fingers when I was making cake. To be nice to myself I made sure there was a big goop of batter on my fingers. Then it was starting to add up so I finally started wiping them on a paper towel. But I didn't work out today b/c my mind isn't right. I haven't seen results in the last few days and I got disheartened after stepping off the scale and said screw it I'm not working out this morning.

I am asking myself when will all this dieting end. If I give in and eat whatever I want I will be overweight. I will live the rest of my life smelling delicious food I can't eat. Aging sucks. Your metabolism slows down, but your appetite keeps right on going.

Cutting and Irritability

My husband is so annoying right now. Maybe it's b/c I'm cutting.

To those not in the know, that means I am resorting to extreme measures to drop weight in a short amount of time. I gave myself a week to lose about 15 lbs. I am moving right along, about 4 lbs to go in 3 days.

The thing is the lbs are coming off slower now and I have already hit everything in my aresenal to drop weight. That includes laxatives, diet pills, and calorie restriction (500 consumed & 500 burnt a day). I would add the sauna/steam room for the big finale but the one at the gym is broke and I really don't want to buy a new membership and drive out of my way...But how else can I drop that amount of weight in that amount of time????

If you arrived at the same conclusion I did, then you may be as crazy as me (about dieting, anyway). That's right, starting today I am reducing calories to 0 consumed & 500 burnt for the next 3 days. I also read an article by a fellow cutter about how to make a steam room in your bathroom.

I have a voice in the back of my head hoping that I won't die. I just LOL it. Silly voice. I know when to stop.

Anyway, anyway, I have been especially irritable lately. Especially towards my husband. Most of me blames his attitude, but part of me wonders if it's the cutting.

I meant to sum this up with humorous examples of my husband's annoying behavior and my responses to it buuuut the kids are up from their nap now so doody calls....

Metamorphisis

I think I spelled that wrong. Metamorphesis with an 'e'? isis with an 'i'? idk, oh, well. What I am getting at is lately I find myself saying all these snobby phrases and after I say them, I laugh, and think, 'did that just come out of my mouth'?

What am I turning into?

Case in point...

At a hardware store searching for a replacement part for the handheld-shower-part-thingy for the whirlpool tub. Growing frustrated and unsure what to call this part to the sales rep, I exasperatingly say to the sales rep 'every whirlpool tub has one!'. Mind you, I just upgraded to a whirlpool tub a few years ago myself. Pretty arrogant of me to assume everybody has whirlpool tubs these days. I told that story to my sister and she chimed in with this stuffy voice, 'just like your father's and your father's father'.

Then I was giving a little speech to the people at work about how they should make sure they arrive at work with everything they are supposed to bring for the day because self-discipline and blah blah blah and if you have to wake up five minutes earlier to make sure you can look through your garage for whatever you left there last week then you should do it blah blah blah. Afterwards, I realized that of the group I was speaking, too, they all live in 2 areas and neither of which have houses that have garages. Oopsie.

The funniest though was in a recent convo with my husband about how I wanted to live in a mansion and he needs to figure it out and I'll give him ten years to get us there, I think that's reasonable--he cuts in with, 'this is a mansion'--and I spat back in a whiny voice, 'this is a mini-mansion'. LOL, I laughed after. I realize what I sound like after-the-fact and can still laugh at myself about it--for now anyway. How long until I forget myself and that person who surfaces here and there actually becomes me?

But seriously, hon, 10 years.

Looking Glass

Well, things are getting back to normal around here. I wish they would get back, back to normal before back to normal meant stressed out and pissed off.

Anyway, listen up, you-know-who-you-are. I am not the person I describe as you. I know what I am. I am stubborn, impatient, stuck-in-my-ways, and intolerant but I am not mean-spirited. You are mean-spirited and that is why you are the asshole.