Free Advice

I want one of those shirts that say, "Parenting advice not welcome unless you too have a child with autism." No, actually, I want a neon sign! I am fed-up with the self-proclaimed experts who have endless streams of advice about my child. One mother of three, jumps on my case about not getting my child out enough. She knows a child with autism who goes out every day. Out, in this case meaning to crowded places like malls and parades and the local pool.

It turns out, the child she "knows" (who is a teenagaer, NOT a two year old)goes to the donut shop with his mother every day. The child comes in, orders his donut and leaves. Sounds to me it might be some sort of social therapy.This same helpful mother also claims that if my child was surrounded by children every day, he would "get used to it." Right. The children she speaks of are her three boys. They are cute kids but they fight violently with one anoher constantly. I'm talking rolling on the floor all out brawls! They do not have autism. They are just underdisciplined. They climb on tables (yes the dining room table too), they yell at their mother and they have even slapped her.

This woman knows my plight. I am a 47 year old adoptive mother of an autistic child. My 57 year old husband has severe COPD and is beginning to exhibit signs of eary alzheimers. I am in the house 24/7 x 365. I go out to take my child to his doctor or to group. I also go food shopping. Where ever I go, my child comes with me. So, he does get out. Other than that I am at home. I get no 5 minute break other than when both take naps. I have lost all my friends. Who wants to be with someone so boring? So, any way, my husband recently started having some serious issues with his COPD. This wonderful woman offered to babysit so I could go to the hospital with him. Didn't she show up with her three children and a friend. Well, needles to say, my husband again had to go alone.

My body feels like it has been put through a ringer. I am tired and so stressed out. My patience are wearing very thin. I am telling people I love to F off! Funny thing, people still come to me with their problems. I used to care. Now, I am too burnt out. I cannot get respite, I can't afford what sitters charge. This is it for me for a long time to come. I just hope that when my husband passes, I will have found some way to be there for him. That is, if the aloneness of this whole situation doesn't kill me first.

Why Autism Sucks: Chocolate Chips, Cheap Wine and a Big Ball of Poop

When you cap off your night with two glasses of Merlot and a bunch or raw chocolate chip cookie dough, chances are the day has been rough.

Autism. Really. Sucks.

And my rose-tinted glasses are frequently cracked.

Some days, they simply cannot be found. And I don't even bother to look that hard.

Why did autism suck today, you might ask????

Well, there were the typical, every-day reasons. My non-verbal, six-year-old son screamed in frustration about something that still is a mystery to me. He carried out his current stim with just as much intensity as he did the day before. I literally had to sit on him in order to cut his toenails.

And, for some reason, for the first time in, well, a long time, he pooped in his pants.

His swimsuit, to be exact.

At a city pool.

Thank GOODNESS (I won't say "God" because I am not in the mood to bring God into any of this), he was OUT OF THE POOL. And I noticed it as soon as it happened./

But when the "bright side" of things is that you didn't have to tell a life guard to clear the pool on account of your six-year-old's poop ...... well, is there REALLY much of a bright side?

Oh, and let me not forget, I was at that city pool with my autistic son, and my four-year-old daughter, and well, NOBODY.

My son has done great taking himself to the potty at home since we really hit the potty-training business just after his fourth birthday. And I am so glad. But, STILL, STILL, I can't count on him to communicate the need to go when we are out in public.

And the kid is a pee fountain.

I take him to pee more frequently than a chain-smoker lights up.

We had been doing so well with not having accidents, until recently ....

And when the accidents start, they seem to come in big numbers.

But, REALLY, POOP???? And at a pool????

I am Ms. Automatic-pilot when there is such a situation. I am not good at many things, but if there is an autistic child with a poop crisis in public, I am your girl.

So, when I saw the face, and confirmed the existence of a wet, messy poop, I just went into action.

I took both kids to the bathroom immediately and got my son to the potty where he finished his business. I checked out the swimsuit and realized it was NOT worth saving. Good-bye new swim trunks. I cleaned up his messy bottom and took him straight to the shower, where I scrubbed the both of us down with soap as if we were about to perform surgery. I went back to the bathroom stall and cleaned up the toilet. And, because all of the spare clothes for my son were in the car a good distance away, I let him wear my tee-shirt. (I had my swimsuit on, people, so don't get any ideas).

It was all a pain. A great big pain. Shouldn't we be well past this?

I certainly let my son know just how unhappy I was with the circumstances. He wasn't very happy either, my poor boy.

It makes me frustrated.

And it makes me sad.

Sad for me, because, yes, I sometimes allow myself a bit of self-pity. I had no idea this would be what I was in for when I first learned I was pregnant.

Sad for my son, because, after all, he deserves the most sympathy. He is the one who struggles to understand this world, and without the benefit of ANY language.

And sad for my daughter, who sat through this whole ordeal on a bench in the bathroom by herself.

She is plenty old enough to understand that her brother should not be having these problems.

She is sophisticated enough to realize that her mother is S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D. And, that, in turn, brings stress to her life. She actually worries about me. My four-year-old daughter worries about me.

Oh, lord, just pile it on.

I am so very, very sad for my daughter because there are many moments in her life, just like this one today, where she sits or stands alone, waiting .... just waiting.

Waiting for me to tend to her brother's problem, need or outburst.

Waiting for me to prompt whatever form of communication I can get from him, even if it is just eye-contact, a nod of the head and a "yeah."

Waiting for me to finish working with him -- because I feel so much guilt if I don't spend at least some time trying to help him accomplish something, even if it is as simple as focusing on a puzzle.

It simply is not fair. There should be someone else on the scene. Someone focusing on her. Or sharing the responsibility of focusing on her brother so that I can sometimes get to focus on her.

Oh, how I would love to just focus on her.

But, even when I get a moment to do so, I am so tired.

So very, very tired.

I am not what my kids deserve.

Either one of them.

And I just don't know if I ever will be.

I have my doubts.

But, man, can I clean up the poop in a crisis.

Is there a career in that, by the way, because I sure could use a job.

Leah is a single mom of two children, one who has autism and is non-verbal. She writes at fruity pebbles for dinner.

Happy Mother's Day To Some Amazing Women!

As they kick and scream, we hold them.

As they face adversity, we fight for them.

As they get older, we hope for them.

As they are, we love them.

We are mothers.

We are fantastic, wonderful, incredibly strong women who are as flawed as the next human, but are as resilient as rock and as rebounding as rubber. We may fall but we always get up and will be by our children's sides as long as we can draw breath.

is also found randomly rambling at her other blogs.

Guilt

Guilt:
1. a. The fact of being responsible for the commission of an offense.
b. Law The fact of having been found to have violated a criminal law; legal culpability.

c. Responsibility for a mistake or error.

2. a. Remorseful awareness of having done something wrong.

b. Self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing.


And then there is Mother's GUILT. An altogether far more powerful and irrational emotion. Mother's Guilt means we take on every let down and disappointment in our children's lives as our own. Mother's Guilt (MG) amplifies our feelings of inadequacy and makes us question our judgement. Mother's Guilt is responsible for our self recrimination and our feelings of blame and well, guilt, for our children's issues.


I doubt there is a mother alive who has not questioned herself or uttered those words to herself: "Did I do something to cause this?"


And as strong as we feel at times, there will always be times when the old MG kicks back in and we worry about our choices, our family unit, and especially our different kids.


I am drowning in the sea of Mother's Guilt at the moment. With Boy 1 hitting the terrifying section of the ASD rollercoaster track known as puberty we are facing a whole new set of challenges previously unseen. With me hitting peri-menopause Mother's Guilt takes on a whole new dimension and removes the calm anchor my firstborn relies on during the storms.


Put into the equation a younger Boy 2, only nineteen months behind Boy 1, bearing the brunt of all this emotional turmoil from both directions, plus being chastised at school for things well beyond his control such as arriving late after a horror Boy 1 morning...


And I am drowning in Mother's Guilt. 


Really should not have read "House Rules" by Jodi Picoult whilst in this vulnerable frame of mind. Put into words all my fears for both my children.

also writes at four other blogs including Meaninless Meandering From a Madmother

It'll Get Easier?

When the boys were first diagnosed, people kept telling me, “It'll get easier as they get older.” Obviously, those people had never raised autistic boys.

I am a single parent. I have twins, one high functioning and one low functioning. My low functioning son has run me through the gamit – last year we discovered he is an eloper, after jumping the fence and being found on the 91 freeway. He also jumped his grandparent's fence and was found on the Los Alamitos Army reserve Base. Now 13, he is in the middle of adolescence and has discovered masturbation. Yes, this is one topic where there is no help out there, on the internet or from doctors. People don't want to talk about it, but if you have a low functioning child who is not developed enough to ejaculate, he will pee, and pee everywhere. Behavioral therapists tell us to do social stories, which he memorizes but doesn't generalize. You can't take his reinforcer away – it's built in. We try to tell him that shower time is the time he can do that – the kid takes 20 – 30 minute showers now. Lucky kid - I'm lucky if I get 5 minutes. In fact, this morning, while I was taking that 5 minute shower, he did it again and peed all over the floor. The doctor is raising his prozac dosage, but doesn't have hopes that it will calm his behavior – it might make a 50 year old man less interested, but it's doubtful it will have that effect on a 13 year old boy. But we will try, because at this point, we will try anything. He mainly does this at night, when everyone is asleep, so there's no chance at redirecting his behavior. He will play with himself, then pee over the side of the bed, down the wall, and onto the floor. I discovered this when his room began to smell, but I couldn't find anything obvious – his bed is a loft bed against the wall, and there are baskets of toys and things under it. Only when I got down on the floor did I discover that there was a veritable flood of pee, the carpet was soaked beyond ruin, and the hardwood floors underneath were beginning to get moldy.

As they boys get older, I find myself wishing that just for a day, I had typical kids, and if that wasn't possible, wishing that everyone else had low functioning autistic kids, just so they'd really know what I go through.

written by a mom who wishes to remain anonymous, based on subject matter

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Please....scream louder

Well little Zachary has had a rough few weeks but the other day was a real woozie. I seriously thought his screaming and meltdowns couldn’t get any worse. It did. On our way home from school Friday I pulled out of the kiss n’ ride and he started crying about his seat belt not feeling right. Joshua who knows all to well when things “don’t feel right” tried fixing his belt. The screaming and crying got louder as he complained it was twisted. It wasn’t. But to a child on the spectrum it doesn’t matter if we don’t see it twisted. He feels it and can’t cope. Just before we got to our house Joshua adjusted it again. I park the car in the driveway and all hell breaks loose as he starts screaming for me to turn around and go back we have to start all over. He kicks the seat infront of his and gets hysterical when I tell him we can’t go back.

I will let you in on a secret. When Joshua was about the same age if I did not take the exact route home every day the same thing would occur and he would beg through his screaming and tears to please go back and start again because it wasn’t right. This was before I knew anything was wrong and felt as though I somehow did something to distress my own child that yes, I would actually turn around and start all over just so I wouldn’t have to deal with a two hour meltdown. Thankfully gas was cheaper then!

After about fifteen minutes of Zachary still in the car hitting me, screaming and refusing to let me take his seat belt off I finally got him into the house where he screamed, ripped up a picture he had done in school, and then ran out of the house screaming for me to take him back and start again. I brought him back in only to have a meltdown of swearing, throwing things, hitting me, scratching, jumping up and down and begging me to please take him back. Finally he was exusted after about an hour of this and started banging his head on the chair as he rocked back and forth with his blankie. My 6 year old daughter Arielle and 7 year old son Sebastian were happy he finally had stopped and came downstairs out of hiding.

It can be difficult some days - okay most days - but as my little Ryley continued to sleep through it all, and my other 4 sat around Zachary (not too close of course) to listen as I read Zaks library book “Franklin and the dark” I realized that I couldn’t have asked for 6 better children.

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Mommy meltdown

Today I cried. I had finally had it. Having children on the spectrum really sucks, and I have gone on for so long with just “dealing with it” every day that it finally happened. Mummy meltdown. Not to have a poor pity me session but seriously it was bound to happen. How long did I think I could actually go on here with 6 children, no help, and two on the spectrum?

Granted there are other children who have far worse disabilities, but here in this household it is bad enough. The worse thing about having a child on the spectrum is that the do not look like they have a disability. They look so typical. But back to the mummy meltdown. It was probably brewing over March break as each child came down with a nasty stomach bug, one after the other. So when it was back to school today I was glad to be back into the regular routine.

However, my Joshua had a rough time getting back into the school thing and didn’t want to go. I finally managed to get him into the truck and over to the school, but once there he put up a terrible fight and wouldn’t get out. I had to call out the VP who fortunately for me is a great guy and totally gets Joshua. So after about 15 minutes of Joshua screaming, kicking, hitting and trying to run off, the VP managed to get him under control and into the school and so I left.

Then I cried. Hard. The flow of tears felt like it would never end. For half an hour I allowed myself to scream “why me?” I allowed myself to yell at all those ignorant people who claim Autism can be cured by diet, or other things that only give us parents false hope. I allowed myself to feel the guilt and shame that comes along when my son chases the garbage man in his truck down the street screaming for him to give back his stuff, or when he has violent outbursts, or when he has a meltdown in the grocery store. I allowed myself to feel guilty about not being able to spend more quality time with my 4 typical children because Zak and Josh require me 24 / 7. I allowed myself to be me, not the supermom people think that I am.

Then I stopped. Wiped away the tears. I am a wife, a bitch and the biggest advocate for all of my children. I am a momof6 who only has time to feel sorry for herself for about half an hour, once a month or so. Times up.

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Perspectives of a Guilty Parent

Originally posted at Mamabusypants on April 1. Life on the Spectrum recently wrote: "Someone said that they were tired of some parents with children who have autism, painting autism as if it were some sort of cool adventure. Autism is hard, depressing and sometimes unbearable." That resonates. Mr. Busypants has mild autism, which translates into autism is only mildly a pain in my ass. Sometimes I feel guilty about his mildness. I'm stuck in the middle: my kid's not quite normal, but he's also not completely, hopelessly, overly frustratingly autistic. So while I deal with the "autistic moments," I do not deal with them at the great frequency that many others do. Initially, the diagnosis and subsequent transitions from babyhood to toddlerland to preschoolville were hard, depressing, and sometimes unbearable. But now, while Mr. Busypants is in Kindergarten at least, the challenges are not much larger than the average parents' (different, but not more overwhelming). That may change, but I feel privileged to just love his mind and the unique perspective he brings to life. At least for now, I get to see it as a cool adventure. To be honest, I fear my neuro-typical (NT) daughter, Miss Chattyshoes, drama queen that she already is, will be way harder to raise. She already has an opinion about everything. When she really, really wants something, she repeats herself, each time at a higher decibel, until only dogs in the neighborhood and the dolphins at the Brookfield Zoo are able to hear her. I'm constantly being ordered to "sit down mama," as she plants her chubby cheeks (yes, the other ones) onto the couch and pats the spot right next to her. It's often frustrating because there's an endless list of things on my To Do list (like laundry, major clean up, grading, dishes, more major clean up, Facebook), but recently I decided to fall in line with the little drill sergeant. I mean, she'll only be little once. So now I'm getting caught up on all kinds of reading. It's distracting to do my Bible study with Elmo in the background, but somehow I manage. As for Mr. Busypants, well, so far he is wildly navigating the line between having autism and being a regular kid. He has a lot going for him in that he wants to partcipate with others, but he also has obstacles less known to those who are neuro-typical. He's coping with the sensory bombardment that's magnified because he has autism, the obsessive/compulsive need for structure and repetition as he processes the world around him, and the emerging knowledge that he is indeed different. Jeannie Anderson is a stay-at-home mom with two children, Mr. Busypants, 6, and Miss Chattyshoes, almost 2. She is a part time college-level writing instructor at three Chicago-area colleges and writes about the Adventures of Mr. Busypants at Mamabusypants.

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Am I Doing It Right?

I feel so fortunate that Bacon is 'high functioning' and that he appears to everyone to be a 'normal' kid. I am also beyond blessed that our school district is so great at offering the services that he needs and has such excellent teachers for him. 

I recently returned to work full time though, and am not as involved in his day to day (read here every single second of everything that is going on) activities. I am worried that this is going to cause all kinds of trauma and distress to him in the long run though. The guilt is sometimes horrific. 

Also we are still having all kinds of issues with sensory potty training issues. Part of it is attributed to age I know, but then part of me feels like this will be a never ending battle because of the Asperger's. I cannot remember the last time we went a full day without a pee or poop accident. We take away privileges, we remind him endlessly to go, and still nothing works. He is about 75% trained and has 3 months until he turns 5. I wouldn't be so worried if he wasn't going to mainstream kindergarten, where peeing your pants can turn into some kind of ridiculing nightmare. 

He also still won't sleep in his own bed. He starts there, but always ends up in our bed. We have tried the Super Nanny method of escorting him back to bed 7,952 times, we tried weighted blankets (which freaked him out) sticker reward charts, money, begging and nothing works. I get up at 4am so the constant up and down just doesn't really work for me because I have to sleep in order to be alert for work!

Did I do it wrong by not getting him into OT? Did I do him a disservice by not keeping him in psychotherapy with the lady that was by the train tracks? (Trains are his thing, and every time a train went by he went crazy.) Or am I doing okay, by sort of letting him work it out on his own with school and seeing how it goes? 

He has made so much progress! He can have a conversation with people, he can recognize people's feelings, he can write his name! He is adding! He asks me how MY DAY WAS! Things I NEVER thought I would see...and I know that some parents of kids with Asperger's and Autism will never see. 

I still worry that I am doing it wrong, that I am not doing enough for him. Am I crazy? Or is this what being a mom is like? 

Mrs. Tantrum has a 4 1/2 year old son with Asperger's. She has been married for 11 years, and works full time outside the home. To read more about her crazy life,  her thoughts about random things, Coffee, Anxiety and more, head over to her blog Momma's Tantrum. She posts there every day, or pretty darn close to every day. 

Saying It Out Loud

I'm gonna do what a lot of people would never do – I'm going to be honest with my actual thoughts and not sugar coat it and say it out loud. Autism sucks. Autism sucks and I wish my kids didn't have it. Autism sucks and it's not fair; to them or to me. Autism sucks and so does the ignorant attitude of people who make unthinking idiotic comments. These are all the 'sayable' things. The “Unsayable” things are harsh. Bitter, negative, unfriendly. It'll probably surprise most of the people who know me. I don't say these things out loud. People are always telling me how funny I am, what a good sense of humor I have, what a great handle I have on it all. It must be my background in role-playing games – it makes me a good actor. My current character is a super mom who is a super fighter for her kids and autism advocate, who is both mom & dad, not to mention teacher and a host of all those other things. Let me rip up the character sheet for a moment and let the harsh truth seep in... Autism sucks. It is not a gift, a challenge to be overcome at the end of the road – it is a devastation to every parent who ever heard the diagnosis, and is lifelong, unless you're one of the few who get lucky with the 'cure of the day', whether it be Secretin, ABA, Music Therapy, Hyperbaric Oxygen, GFCF diet, or the many other cures that come and go. I'm not saying these things don't help some kids – they do, and I've seen good things happen for some, but I've never personally met a child who has been completely 'recovered'; only heard of them in the news and over the internet. I've tried them all, and my kids weren't the 'lucky' ones. With every failure, one more drop of hope leaves the glass. All your plans and dreams for your child disappear. It is not simply a 'trip to Holland' that landed in China, or whatever the damn metaphor is. Most of the time it is a trip straight to Hell. Sometimes I want to trade my kids in for typical ones. Many times I wish I could go back in time and do it all again and yes – change things. Most of the time I just want to quit. I feel jealous of my friends that have kids that are 'normal', or at least more typical than mine. I feel jealous of those that have husbands and family who help them. I feel jealous that if I want to tear my hair out and scream and take off, the most I can do is lock myself in the bathroom with the kids pounding on the door. I wish I would have married someone with stronger character. I feel envious of the scum of an ex-husband who took off 2 months after the boys were diagnosed, because he's never had to deal with a day of autism. Never had to deal with the Regional Center, the school districts, the various therapies, etc. Never had to use respite hours just to get things done (people actually use respite for respite?) Yes, respite is used to get things done. I learned when the boys were little that many environments were so overstimulating, they just couldn't handle it. Many were the times I walked out of Wal Mart or some other place with a screaming child under each arm, shouting out, “I'm not kidnapping them, they're autistic!”. Now they're 12, and I can't carry one of them, let alone both, so a lot of times, we just don't go anywhere. I'm tired of the snide comments, never to my face, but as I'm walking out with the screamer, the ones that comment, “Some people just don't know how to discipline their kids!”. Once I actually answered the fool by saying, “Since you're such an expert on childcare, perhaps you'd volunteer to babysit this Saturday night?” Not to mention the time I shouted back, “They're autistic – what's your excuse?” I'm envious of those who can just have a babysitter, instead of search for a caretaker/babysitter/crisis interventionist who can handle a 12 year old autistic boy's temper tantrum. I wish I had a child who I could take to a 'natural' dentist. Now that the doctor prescribed Atavan before dental visits, it only takes 2 people to hold him down so the dentist can look in his mouth – it used to take 4 people. I don't have a choice – if they have cavities, they have to use anesthesia. Hell, I have to bring a helper when we go to the doctor, because Mikey will throw himself on the floor and refuse to move, and he's too big for me to pick up. I want a child who has interests, not fixations. The higher functioning one, when he collects things, has to have every single thing in the series, or he loses it. As collecting a complete set of anything is prohibitively expensive, I discourage any type of collecting that comes along. I have not told my son about Bakugan, that new card/toy game. The thought of a whole new series to collect and the issues revolving around not having a certain item in it makes me very afraid. Speaking of fixations, I wish my other child wouldn't scream for hours when we can't find a certain book, toy, shirt, etc. And why is it that the one he wants is never the one I just happen to have seen, but one I haven't actually seen in months? The worst is when he asks for a video or book that I got rid of years ago, before I realized how bad the fixation issue was. Now I simply buy lots of big bins, and store stuff in the garage. To that end, I miss being able to get rid of stuff for good. I miss the days when I could open the windows in my house instead of having padlocks on them to keep my eloping son inside and safe. I miss opening the front door in the morning to cool off the house. I wish I could leave my son outside for the few minutes I need to use the bathroom, instead of dragging him inside with me and locking the house, just in case he decides to hop the fence and run onto the freeway like he did previously. I also miss the days when I didn't have to have locks on the kitchen cabinets to keep my son from gorging till he gets sick. I accidentally left the cream cheese container on the counter this morning while starting a load of wash, and by the time I got back, the container had been licked clean. I'm jealous of those who get to use their college degrees. I have a Masters Degree, but instead, I'm my children's caretaker, earning minimum wage through IHSS, because holding a real job where you get to be with grown ups doesn't work when you have no one else who is willing to take care of your kids. There's just not enough sick days and family leave time – I tried. I'm envious of people who get to be around other grown ups on a regular basis. I'm jealous of people who can earn enough to buy a home. We will be renters forever, as the minimum wage won't let us qualify, but also because of the fact that IHSS is constantly in jeopardy of being cut from the state budget makes my job an unstable one as well. Oh, and IHSS won't let you contribute into social security, so for the last few years, in terms of chalking up working hours for social security, I technically have been NOT WORKING. Yeah. And so much for having a savings account, as if I keep one, the boys won't get their SSI. I will never be able to retire. I want to smack the fools who always tell me I must be doubly blessed, or that God doesn't give you any more than you can handle. I want to rip out their intestines and shout, “Handle this!” Same goes for the people who tell me how I should be grateful it's not worse than it is, or that the boys aren't both as bad as the lower functioning one. Side note – these people have NEVER volunteered to babysit my kids. I want to be able to take a shower when it's convenient for me, not have to sneak it in before the kids get up or after they go to bed or wait till I have respite help, because the last time I tried to shower when they were awake, I came out to the kitchen with all the eggs cracked on the floor and Mikey singing about Humpty Dumpty. I want to be able to stay up late again, and not crash at 8:30 pm, just because the kids went to bed at 8:00, and if I don't follow, I may never get sleep, because their sleep patterns are so unpredictable. I'm envious of anyone who can sleep through an entire night, without waking up after 3 or 4 hours, thinking of all the stress and horrors and the worst – what the future might hold for my kids. I'm jealous of my friends who can sleep in and tell their kids to be quiet in the morning, and the kids actually listen. I want to be able to write like this on a regular basis, but I just don't have that kind of solid alone-time on the computer (I've been writing this for months – started it right after Tina told me about this new blog). For that matter, I'm envious of all those people who have time to have their own blogs. Hell, I'm envious of those that have enough time to read other people's blogs. Don't get me wrong – there are good things; lots of things I love about my special children, but many people write about the good. I'm here to speak the unspeakable parts. I'm here to do the job nobody else wants to do, or has the guts to do. I'm the bad guy all the time in my fight – I'm the super bitch to the school district, regional center, and any other agency who is supposed to provide appropriate services for my child but doesn't, whether it be from budget or indifference. I don't care if these people like me, I don't care about establishing a 'relationship' with them – I just want them to do their frigging job – the one they get paid for, yet the one I end up doing for free. I don't want to be jealous, envious, bitter, angry, tired, hurt, exhausted, alone, ungrateful – but I am. I wish I was a better person, like the “Super Mom” character I portray every day, but I'm not – at least, not under the surface. If these kinds of thoughts make me a horrible person, then so be it – but at least I'm real. If I've learned anything from my ordeal, its that I can't afford to delude myself about anything. When you start lying to yourself, that's when you really get sucked under, and that's the time when the kids really suffer, and why would I be going through all this Hell if I didn't completely and utterly love my children despite it all? But just because I'd go through Hell and back for my kids doesn't mean I have to enjoy the trip. Bobbie is the mother of twin boys with autism, one high-functioning and one lower-functioning. She doesn't have time to blog, but you can follow her on twitter: @Bobbie42

Somewhere...

Somewhere, there is a mom who has a child with Autism. This mom could be your cousin or niece, a neighbor, lady at church or in front of you at the grocery store. You might run in to her at a soccer game or at a new mom's play group in the neighborhood. Her child may be able to speak and read and write and look perfectly normal most of the time. But there may be times when you notice the quirks. You may notice that the child doesn't engage and is always running off, covering her ears when a garbage truck belches by then throws a tantrum like you have never seen before. You may wonder if the mom knows that her child has Autism. You may want to reach out to her or her child. Then do. Ask her questions. Accept her and her child just the way they are. She is just trying to navigate life like you are and she needs friends who accept her. Be patient. God has blessed her with her child. God will bless you when you reach out to them. Learn more about the Life of a Juggernaut... It's all about taking two steps forward and ten steps backward, but moving onward and upward one day at a time. Read more about the legacy of the Crazy Jugs, please visit today's posting >>>