Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

There are days since I have become a parent when I feel the need to pick up the phone and call to say I'm sorry for all the grief I gave you when I was growing up. I had a vision today of what my children's teenage years will be like and I have to say-I'm terrified!! Mommy, I saw the future and it is scary!! Here is my long overdue apology.

For all the times it would have been easier to knock the teeth out of my smart ass mouth than hug me, thank you for not making me look like a homeless hillbilly.

For all the times I bitched and moaned about how there was nothing to eat in the house after you had just gone to the grocery and there was enough food to feed the Duggar family, thank you for not making me starve just to teach me a lesson.

For every dinner you made that I turned up my nose at and said "I'm not hungry" and later smuggled chips out of the kitchen, thank you for not cramming them down my throat.

For all the times you made sure my clothes were washed, ironed and folded and stacked neatly on my bed for me to put away, thank you for not throwing them all out the window when one week later they lay on the floor, my desk or bed and not in my dresser where you intended.

For all the times all the necessities magically appeared and I took every one of them for granted, thank you for not making them magically disappear.

And for every foot stomp, hissy fit, eye roll, overly dramatic outburst that made up ages 14-18, thank you for always loving me. At least I hope it was out of love and not because prison orange isn't your color.

Love Always,
Your apologetic and completely terrified of your grandkids becoming teenagers, Daughter

PS
Thanks for having me first because I wasn't nearly as bad as my little sister ;)

8 years

Eight years. Has it really been that long? Seems like a lifetime ago. Eight years ago I started working at the place I'm still at today. My kids were babies, just 2 years old and 6 months old. I was still in my twenties. Eight years ago I still held out hope that you would change. Hope that you would try to help yourself. Hope that we could one day at the very least be friends. But you crushed my hope. You killed it. You killed yourself.

Eight years has lessened the hurt. I hope one day it will lessen the anger. I feel as if I will forever be pissed at you for being so fucking selfish. If you had been sick, or in an accident, if you had left this Earth involuntarily I wouldn't be mad. You made the choice to leave. To leave us. To leave me. To never give me the chance to get to know if you were the person I so desperately wanted you to be. I believed there was good in you. I wish you had believed it yourself.

Eight years has given me a lot of time to think. To learn. To come to terms with things. If you had lived would things have been different? I'll never know. That's the hardest part. The fact that life will go on without knowing what could have been. How can I miss something I never really had? I don't know how that's possible but I do. I haven't" missed out" on anything. There has been so much love in my life that I haven't felt empty. But there was a place for you in there.

Eight years. In another eight years I don't plan on still being at the same job I'm at now. My kids will be close to being grown up. I will be in my forties. I have a new hope for the next eight years. I hope my anger with you fades like the hurt did. From what I have learned so far, I'm sure it will.

Things My Kids Make Me Do Part 1

Since I became a parent almost 11 years ago, there are many things I have had to do that I never thought I would ever do in my life. I have cleaned many an explosive diaper, wiped up projectile vomit, checked the closets for monsters and treated a stuffed dog like a real animal because to my son, Max IS real. I know all the words to the songs from Teen Beach Movie and all the dance moves that go with them, I have subjected myself to the madness of Legofest and just 2 weeks ago, adopted another dog (we now have 3) because Natalie insisted this dog was lonely and was meant to be a part of our family. But today, Natalie got one over on us that I NEVER saw coming.

We had a funeral for a squirrel. A random, every day, run of the mill squirrel.

Let me start by saying Natalie is like Elly Mae from "The Beverly Hillbillies". The girl has never met a critter she didn't like. She can't stand the thought of an animal being hurt, sick or lonely. That damn ASPCA commercial with Sarah Mclachlan makes her go into hysterics to where we have to change the channel whenever we hear that song.( Thanks for ruining my whole fucking day, Sarah Mclachlan!!!) I am so proud of my little girl for being so compassionate and loving, but today really took the cake.

It all began when I noticed my two smaller dogs, Molly and Delilah, tossing something around in the backyard. I knew they didn't have a toy out there and at first I thought they had a bird because they have done that in the past. When I went to check on them I saw a bushy tail and four stiff little paws sticking straight up in the air. That poor little squirrel's mouth was open as if it had tried screaming but nothing came out. Now, I'm not sure if my dogs killed it or if it was already dead and they just thought it was a chew toy. I don't care. I was royally skeeved out that they had their mouths on the dirty thing. I did what anyone in my position would do. I hollered for my husband to come outside and discard of the deceased.

Unfortunately, all the windows were open and the kids heard me yell. Natalie came flying out of the house, "what happened? is it ok?" I stepped back to try to hide the crime scene. "No, sweetie, it's dead. But daddy's going to take care of it." She tried her best to step around me, but I'm a lot quicker than I look and I managed to get her to go back inside. Ryan got an empty box out of the trash and scooped little squirrely into it, and dropped it back into the Herbie.

We went in the house and assured the kids everything was fine. Then, with so much seriousness for an 8 year old, Natalie said "Did you bury it?"
I immediately knew where this was going.  "Um, no, we put it in the trash".
As I watched my baby girl's lower lip tremble and her big blue eyes fill with tears I instantly felt like the world's biggest ass. " We have to bury it" was all she would say. Each time she said it, she got louder and the crying got uglier. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. We were going to bury that squirrel and if I had to, I would make it a proper casket and headstone.

I know my dear, sweet, understanding husband thought I'd lost my ever-loving mind when I asked him to get the shovel, but he did it anyway. We can now honestly say there isn't anything he wouldn't do for his little girl. We found a place in the side yard to lay the little bugger to rest. Joshua was trying so hard to be solemn but I could see the laughter bubbling up inside him. He was also humming the funeral march. I slapped him on the shoulder to make him stop. We asked Natalie if she wanted to say a few words but all that did was start the ugly cry all over again. We ended the service and went back inside so she could grieve privately.

So now I have one more thing to add to my list of things my children have made me do. I have also learned something. Next time there is a dead animal in the yard, I won't yell so loudly!!

Autism Is Not a Four Letter Word

I remember when we got Joshua's diagnosis. It was a long, daunting process that had taken almost four years. The first time we had him evaluated he was four years old and in his last year of preschool. We were told he was just too smart for his age and was bored. That was the reason for his outbursts and "quirky" habits. Jump forward two years to the first grade and nothing has changed. In fact, it has gotten worse. So we go through the whole process again to get the same answer. He's just too smart for his own good. This had now become unacceptable. Finally, at the end of his second grade year we got the answer. Asperger's Syndrome, or as it would be called now, high functioning autism. Even though I was familiar with Asperger's and had a mom's intuition this is what was going on with my boy, it still felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Now that we had a diagnosis, what do we do? Who do we tell? My husband and I decided that beyond telling family, it would be on a need to know basis. We quickly found out that everyone who had regular contact with Joshua needed to know. Friends, teachers, karate instructors, parents of his friends, every single person who we trusted with our son had to know. It was the only way they would know what to do to help him. We were not in any way, shape or form embarrassed by autism. It was more of a way to protect Joshua. We didn't think autism was a "dirty word" but we didn't want him to be labeled or thought of differently. My biggest fear was that once that word was attached to my son that would be all anyone would be able to see. An autistic child, who can't do this and can't do that. What he CAN do far outweighs anything he CAN'T do. Fortunately, that has never happened. All the people who know and love Joshua still see him as just Joshua. Children with autism are so much more than just a diagnosis. They are loving, intelligent, creative, and above all they are people. Autism is nothing to be ashamed of and I hope that by sharing our stories more people will be accepting of it.

Dumbass, Table For One

I'm used to embarrassing myself. I was born without a sense of balance and an overall lack of grace, I frequently put my foot in my mouth because the part of the brain that screams "SHUT UP" doesn't work, and most of the time you can tell what I've eaten during the day because I end up wearing it. (Wearing white scares the bejesus out of me, btw. Much too easy for my shirt to end up looking like a preschooler's finger painting.) Anyhoo. It's gotten to the point where I just don't care anymore. Not only because I know what I'm capable of, but I figure once you've had kids all sense of shame goes straight down the toilet anyway. But today, I really embarrassed myself. When I do something, I go big or go home.

I was super excited because I saw that an Autism blog I had been reading was looking for guest bloggers. I'm looking for any opportunity I can do to do 2 things- 1:promote my writing on as many blogs and websites as possible and 2:promote Autism acceptance and share our story to help others. I thought this would be perfect. So last night after I finished studying and I was so tired I could barely hold my eyes open and I thought it would take a sandblaster to remove my contact lenses, I emailed my blog submission. I could hardly wait until the morning to see if I got a response.

When I saw the response in my inbox I was PSYCHED!! I clicked on it and read " thank you for your submission. We loved your post, however we try to keep this blog family friendly and we are concerned with some of the language you used..." Say what? I was so confused. I thought for a minute to try and figure out what was offensive in my post " Autism Is.." I couldn't think of a thing, so I read my original email and it hit me. I HAD SENT THE WRONG POST!! Omg, I just sent these people my post "These Are A Few of My Favorite Things" which talked about my fondness for the words "fuck and "asshat".

I felt like a fucking asshat.

I immediately sent an apology and explained that I would never intentionally submit that particular post. If they could have seen my face, it was surely as red as my hair. I'm surprised I didn't bruise my forehead from the massive facepalm I gave myself. I can honestly say for the first time in forever I was embarrassed.

Luckily, though, our little tale of woe has a happy ending. They accepted my next submission and posted it on their website. And my mortifying moment actually inspired the blog I sent them. "Autism Is Not A Four Letter Word". You can check it out on www.nsvar.org. This is a wonderful organization that helps people in Virginia find the resources they need for autism treatments and therapies.

So now, I am going to get off the computer for the night. I'm getting tired and as I proved today, I have the tendency to make a total jackass of myself when I get sleepy. :)

I Never Knew Heartache Until Now

The most heartbreaking thing in the world is not being able to help your child. To sit back and feel completely and utterly helpless is devastating. There is an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that washes over you and makes you feel like you are failing the one person in the world who needs you most. Meltdowns are the worst things ever for my son to go through, and they are the best at making me feel inadequate as a parent.

Tonight's meltdown was triggered by the dreaded math homework. I sympathize with him because math has always been the thorn in my side. I just don't have a mathematical brain and I hate that I have passed it on to my children. But how do you handle it when the child thinks there is something wrong with them and that is the reason they don't understand? What do you do when you can see by the look on his face that he is losing control and feeling helpless because he doesn't know how to process these feelings? He's not being a brat or out of control when he throws his hands over his ears like he's desperately trying to block out the world and cries "help me, Mommy". Autism makes it so difficult for him to process and express these emotions and to an outsider it looks like one helluva temper tantrum. He's not throwing a fit because I've grounded him from the Xbox, or taken away his favorite toy. He just can't express his frustration any other way. It is torture for him to go through it and for us to watch, unable to stop it.

Being a mom I feel it is my job to be able to make everything better. I've healed boo boo's with kisses, Band Aids and popsicles. But a meltdown can't be made better with those things. You have to wait it out no matter how long it takes. When the worst of the storm was over, my 5 foot tall, 110 pound 10 year old crawled onto my 5'2 size lap and let me hold him like I did when he was a baby. It was comforting to know that I could still do that. I can't fix Autism, I can't stop the meltdowns. All I can do is hold my baby boy when he'll let me and tell him that even when he's bigger than me, I will still do it.

Forgiveness is Not a Right

Someone said to me yesterday "Everyone deserves to be forgiven". That has been stuck in my head all night and day. The more I think about it, the more I have to disagree. Not everyone deserves to be forgiven. For someone you have hurt so deeply to forgive you is a privilege, not a right. And just because you offer an apology doesn't mean I have to accept. I do not believe this makes me a bad person. It makes me human.

I spent years waiting for an apology from certain people for the things they did and did not do. I never received them and now it's too late because they have both passed on. I was told that forgiving them would help me, that it would release me from the dark place I've been in. Um, excuse me. I am not in a dark place. I have a beautiful life because that is what I chose. I chose not to wallow in the past and let it get me down. Yes, I am still mad as hell at these people and sometimes I still cry about it. But that doesn't hold me back from living my life. Crying is not an indication that I'm not over it or that these people still have a hold on me. It just means that I was hurt to the depths of my soul and those kind of wounds never go away. The scars might fade and the memories might become less vivid, but it is always there. I'm also a firm believer that dying doesn't grant you a reprieve from the crappy things you did to people while you were alive. It doesn't make you any less of an asshole, and I will never think that dying instantly changes you from bad to good.

Now if anyone is wondering this to themselves, yes, I am a Christian. I do know that it is my Christian duty to forgive and to ask myself "what would Jesus do". It is easier said than done. Maybe I'm not as far into my spiritual journey as I'd like to believe since I can't do this one thing. Maybe these people who hurt me didn't feel the need to ask for my forgiveness because they asked for it from Jesus. If that's the case, so be it. Because I'm asking forgiveness from Him for the hatred I feel for them. As long as I have that, I will be ok.