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From The Archives: "Only The Best Moms Call The Police On Themselves"

2009-11-24T18:06:00.006-05:00

Reposted from November 2008

I’m on the phone with my husband screaming “It’s coming in the house! It’s coming in the house!” He’s driving up Route 55 to the bookstore for his monthly escape, I mean retreat, from the insanity of work and home. The poor guy needs a social life, because going to a bookstore for hours by himself is truly his idea of a rockin’ evening. I would, under other circumstances, never dream of interrupting his wild evening out, except that I'm home alone with 4 small children and there is some unidentified rabid animal in our garage trying manically to get into our house.

There are a few boring tidbits of information you need to know first. One is that I’m a freak. Completely paranoid about random, weird, and implausible things that can happen to a peaceful suburban family… like an airplane crashing through our bay window or the fluke tornado that rips through Southern Jersey and destroys our home. Two, we have a cat door, a dog door, and a dog shower in our laundry room though we own no pets. The previous home owner installed them for their small zoo of domesticated mammals. Three, there is a door that connects our attached garage to our laundry room. This is the door with the cat door. So, whatever is in my garage is attempting a blitzkreig on my domestic bliss through the cat door.

The cat door swings forward again, and I scream while shoving a cooler up against it. My husband is calmly asking me questions about the situation. I explain that I was in the playroom in the basement with the 4 girls. Then, I went upstairs to do some laundry. I heard scratching at the connecting garage/laundry room door. Petrified, I had gone over to quickly lock that door, and the cat door started slowly swinging open. While I couldn’t make out what kind of creature was pushing on the cat door, it seemed kinda fleshy pink colored which make me think it was a possum with that pointy fleshy snout.

“Okay,” my husband calmly instructs me, like the good shrink that he is. “Go around outside, punch in the code to open the garage door, and leave it open until the animal gets out.” I not so calmly explain that we turned off the main switch to the garage doors last night, as I do every night because of my paranoia of someone breaking into our house (yes, I have issues, I know). We usually unlock the garage doors first thing in the morning, but today was a lazy Sunday and no one had left the house until my husband just 20 minutes ago and he left through the front door. So, the only way I can open the garage door is by opening up the door between the laundry room and the garage to flick the switch, but the problem is there’s a rabid beast poised and waiting to scamper into my home and attack me and my children!

So now, he’s gently explaining that I should walk outside and look in the garage window to see what exactly is in there. Just then, there is a thumping sound on the other side of the door. I’m shrieking “It’s throwing itself at the door!” What is this thing?!? Suddenly, the door knob rattles. Okay, I don’t know how many animals know how to rattle a door knob. Perhaps it jumped. Or perhaps, it’s not an animal, but a person! But, that can’t be… how would they have gotten in a locked garage in the first place and why would they still be in there hearing my screaming? And, they would have had to be there for hours and hours just hanging out. No, it’s not possible. But the doorknob rattled. Holy Crap! I’m totally freaking out now. “Where are the kids?” my husband asks. They’re all in the basement. All 4. I have the safety gate up and the door shut. He tells me that I should probably call the police and even though I’m completely embarrassed to call 9-1-1 over something so stupid, I’m also totally freaked and can’t come up with any other reasonable solutions. My husband has started driving home, but he’ll be about 20 minutes.

“I’m calling the police!” I shout to the rabid animal/deranged psychopath on the other side of the door. The 9-1-1 dispatcher is quite possibly the nicest woman in the world. She should really go into the helping profession. Oh wait, she is. That’s good. Good for her. Very good for me. She stays on the line with me and gets me calmed down, and within five minutes she actually has me believing that I’m not the world’s biggest idiot for calling.

The police man finally arrives, having come straight from a knife fight to the all important neurotic-housewife-with-a-jumping-possum-in-her-garage call. I go outside to greet the young officer who is emerging from his vehicle with his trained canine. Oh, good heavens, I hope the neighbors aren’t home spying out their windows. Just then, my husband pulls in the driveway and dashes heroically to my side. The officer and I are trying to figure out a plan for getting the garage door open without letting the animal into the house. My ever practical husband begins sauntering over to the garage windows. “Did you ever look in the window to see what it is?” He asked. “And get my head blown off by an escaped psych ward patient hiding out in my garage? Um, I don’t think so.” I stifle a shriek as he bravely presses his face up to the window. I’m cowering at his side. He turns and looks me square in the eye. “Um, honey?” he starts. Silence hangs in the air. He looks at me in half disbelief and half amusement. “It’s CB."

Yes, it is my daughter. My 13 year old, neurologically impaired, severely autistic and cognitively delayed daughter. Sitting in my garage playing with her favorite thing, a pair of mardi gras beads that she swirls around endlessly, and tapping compulsively on the cat door as part of her ‘self-stim’ compulsive ritual. She’s having the time of her life.

All of this would be really, really funny except for the fact that a police officer who is now asking me "What's a CB?" is standing right there accutely aware that for the past hour or more a 13 year old, developmentally disabled girl has been locked in her parent’s garage in the dead heat of the summer. My husband and I are mortified, apologizing profusely over embarrassed laughter. I explain my daughter’s disabling conditions and how she must have slipped into the garage without my knowing and that I really thought all 4 kids were in the basement playing, because that’s where they were when I left them when I went upstairs to do some laundry. He quietly listens and I figure he’s weighing the evidence. I’m either some sort of sadistic mom, a horrendously neglectful parent, or a complete idiot. (For the record, I’m the latter). I’m unsettled because any one of these options might warrant a call to Child Protective Services.

“Ma’am” he says “May I please see the child to make sure she’s okay.” “Sure of course!” I shout all too eagerly and lead him into our home, praying my house is clean and devoid of any signs that I’m some sort of abusive parent… No belts or wire hangers lying around… good, good…. No twigs that double as ‘switches’ for a good ass whoopin’. Okay, nothing suspicious. And the house is reasonably clean. Kinda. No maggoty food, household mold, rats, roaches, or open beer cans strewn about.

Okay, we’re in the laundry room now, opening the door to the garage. No problem. He’ll see a healthy, happy child in no distress whatsoever. I open the door to escort my daughter inside and show the officer that yes, I am a good mother. To my dismay, her hair has become a giant rats nest and her clothes and face are dusty from the garage floor. The coup de gras, however, is that she is covered with her own feces head to toe. Yes, my daughter is not toilet trained, wears a diaper, and will often get into it to finger paint. Her timing is always impecable.

Yes, officer, welcome to my home and my family. Welcome to my life. Welcome to my planet. Shall I place my hands behind my back now?

Weekend Wrap Up and Update

2009-11-23T16:52:00.007-05:00

Well, I have not been posting as often lately, and certainly my posts have not been exciting. I have not had much time to write. In less than 2 weeks we pack up our rental house and move AGAIN. Yes, 2 moves in 4 months. Because we're just that hard up for drama.

So, all my free time (the nanoseconds I have) that isn't frittered away on bon bon consumption and Oprah watching is being put into the preparation for the move - changing school districts, addresses, packing, utility switches, final touches on the new house, plus the normal drama like doctor appointments, repairing the stupid minivan that we haven't repaired yet, blah blah blah... you know the drill. You live it too.

So, I had a great idea. It's time to RECYCLE my posts! Since it's hard to write anything of substance right now due to pathological insomnia, anxiety, and being in the weeds, I thought I'd re-post some of my favorites from long ago. My devout followers who have been with me since the beginning may find it dull, but hopefully some of you newbies will get to read some archives... the oldies but goodies. Or perhaps oldies and moldies. Whatever, total cop out. Just trying to hang onto you all before you abandon the bloggy ship!

I promise I'll be back in the saddle once we move and get our Internet set up and unpacked in the new house. Just in time for Holiday Mayhem to be unleashed.

Until then, I love you all and I hope you can hang in with me. I'll be back soon, I PROMISE! I hope you will too. Enjoy the reruns during my few week hiatus!

thHERsDAY

2009-11-19T18:37:00.002-05:00

Thursday's HER Day. For all the pictures where she's left out. For all the vacations and parties where she is not present. I'm giving her a little weekly press. Just because it's Thursday.
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The Bluest of Eyes To Rival Any Clear Sky.

Weekend Wrap Up

2009-11-17T18:24:00.005-05:00

Ooops. I'm a day late with my weekend wrap up. And no photos! The SHAME!

Weekend? Crazy busy. Went out drinking 3 nights in a row, starting on Thursday with a girls night 'in.' So fun! Friday went out on a date with my husband - I know, try not to faint. I almost did. And we actually did something NOT lame. We went to a fundraising event at an Art Gallery in Haddonfield and had food provided by SJ's Top Chefs from the leading local restaurants. Open wine and beer bar too. Really nice night.

Saturday, had my soon-to-be-sister-in-law's bridal shower. Margarita Night Theme. Pomegranate margaritas all around. Oh, to be 25, freshly engaged, childless and beautiful. Brought a tear to my eye. Well, that might have been the alcohol. Or the mourning of my lost youth. Lots of fun, though.

By Sunday I was totally hurting from 3 consecutive late nights and booze, so what do I do? After going to bed Sunday night I wake up at 2:30 am and NEVER FALL BACK ASLEEP!!! No crap.

Insomnia bites.

My 3 Favorite Thanksgiving Family Traditions

2009-11-16T18:39:00.013-05:00

Twitter Moms asks: What 3 Favorite family traditions have you passed or will pass on to your children?
1. I love the tradition that I never cook Thanksgiving dinner but rather mooch off of my poor mother-in-law who gets up at 2:00 am and starts cooking enough food to feed a small planet and its moons while we sit around, watch, and eat. I plan to instill this lazy tradition in my children, who will in their adulthood rely on ME to slave away. Pay back's always a bitch.

2. Saying grace. We're trying to get better at saying grace on a daily basis, but if I'm being honest, it often slips through the cracks as the Mac N Cheese is getting ready to be devoured. But on Thanksgiving, it brings a tear to my eye to go around the room and not only say grace but have each one of us say what we are thankful for.

3. The Wishbone. My mom would always save the wishbone for us and we'd get a kick out of making our wish and snapping this poor turkey's bone in 2. Now that I think about it, how barbaric. But we loved it. We also loved digging up anthills and using a needle and thread to sew the tips of our fingers together. Not necessarily on Thanksgiving, but I'm just sayin'.

What are YOUR favorite Thanksgiving Family Traditions? Post and tweet and you could win a $50.00 Target Gift Card

Click HERE for more details on TWITTER MOMS!!!

Read About Why I Hate Swings At NJ Moms Blog

2009-11-15T10:48:00.004-05:00

Yes, I said it. I hate swings. Pop on over the NJ Moms Blog where I also write and find out why... CLICK HERE

Free Downloadable Fonts!

2009-11-11T09:00:00.002-05:00

Over 9,000 free fonts available for bloggers, digital scrapbookers, or creative designers at this site below. Check them out, and download any font for FREE by clicking HERE!!

Weekend Wrap Up

2009-11-10T08:08:00.016-05:00

This weekend was my birthday, which was pretty uneventful compared to last year. Last year happened to be a 'landmark' birthday, so there was a good deal of celebrating. Now I'm just "in my ___s." The landmark birthday is never such a bummer because there's so much hoopla. It's the year after that gets to me.

I think I'm technically middle age now. Agggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

This was me last year, not looking a day over 39 3/4.

Last year my family had a nice party for me. So did a group of my friends. I even went out the night of my actual birthday with my neighbors (kinda an accident that it was planned on my birthday, but hey I'll take it) and I got my free icecream sundae with a side of humiliation at TGIFridays.

But this year it was very low key. A few calls. Zero fanfare. Most of the wishes were on facebook and here. God bless social networking! My husband and I were not able to go out alone since our only babysitter is in Mexico right now and we have no family near by. Plan B was for ALL of us to go out to a restaraunt. Unfortunately, Tink thwarted those plans when she decided to spike a fever. Plan C: Japanese food at home. We had ice cream cake and an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday on Sunday.

My husband gave me a basket of bath/lotion smelly things. He chose the White Tea scent, somehow remembering that I said I loved that once a long time ago. Sometimes, he surprises me like that, when I don't even think he's paying attention to the little details.

Pink said to me "Mom, the best birthday present is us, right? That you have your kids here with you?" Her voice kind of choked up with emotion when she said it, as if she already knew at age 4 how much truth was in her words.

It's hard to be bummed about age when you're this blessed and happy.

Autumn Leaves

2009-11-08T15:11:00.000-05:00

I haven't had to pick up a rake in 5 years. I'm making up for it now.

Holy Leaves.

But, this kinda makes raking them up a little more bearable.

Give Me A Childish Moment...

2009-11-07T09:41:00.000-05:00

Remember my car accident trifecta? Well, the ONE (out of 3) accidents that actually was NOT my fault was the one that was proving to be the most stressful, long, drawn out and ugly. AND most expensive and extensive in way of damages. This was the one where a guy parked on the side of the road and opened his car door into traffic - into ME as I was driving by unable to notice him.

He proved to be a giant jerk... an intimidating, bully-type, giant jerk. Even his insurance claim agent from his OWN insurance company had some off-record negative commentary about him.

At one point this jerky guy left us an irritable phone message. After a long diatribe where he ranted on and on about ME being a liar, he said something to the effect of "It's in God's hands now" and that "God" would determine who was the honest one.

Oh, you're going THERE?!?! Whatever, dude.

Well, guess what? Not only did the police officer think it was 100% his fault, and every other lawyer/law enforcement person we spoke to AND my insurance company deduce it was his fault merely by the way the damage was on both our cars (pretty much indisputable)... and then HIS insurance company just recently agreed to pay 95% of our $1,000 deductible. Ergo - his fault. We could have gone to arbitration for the full 100%, but we just want to put it behind us.

So, he wanted to leave it in "God's hands?" Let the Big G decide guilt and blame? Well, I'm pretty sure God was really too busy to get involved in this nonsense, but, if The Almighty WAS involved, I guess He has spoken.

And in dignity and grace I say humbly:

In. Your. FACE!

And, now it's time to sing and dance:
Go me-ee.. it's my birthday... God loves me mo-ore... it's my birthday... you're a big fat liar... it's my birthday....nanananana.... you're a stinky jerk head...

...I'm doing the running man... now I'm churning the butter...

Oh yeah... Oh yeah....

November Is National Family Caregiver Month

2009-11-06T08:45:00.004-05:00

In honor of National Family Caregiver Month, Care.com is opening up their site for free to everyone this weekend, November 6-8th.

Care.com provides a trusted place for families and caregivers (babysitters, nannies, special needs caregivers, tutors, senior caregivers) to easily connect and get advice. The service enables families to find and select the best care possible based on detailed profiles, background checks, and references for hundreds of thousands of caregivers who are seeking to share their services.

Don't forget to nominate a special caregiver in the Care.com Care Hero contest either! They, and you as the nominee, can win some amazing prizes!!

tHERsDay

2009-11-05T12:00:00.001-05:00

Out Of The Overflow Of The Heart, The Mouth Speaks

2009-11-04T11:47:00.008-05:00

My blogger-friend Corrie shared this bible verse with me when commenting on the "Is Shouting The New Spanking" post.

Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.

Could there be anything more true?

I like to think I'm a kind, nice, forgiving, loving person. I like to think this. But sometimes, what comes out of my mouth...

... and to the ears of the people I love the most. Or need my love the most.

When my words have themes of self-centeredness, judgmentalness, sarcasm, bitterness, and criticism, I fear for what is in my heart.

So, to change the words, I suppose one must look into the heart.
I just wish I wasn't so afraid of what I might find in there.

Is Shouting The New Spanking?

2009-11-02T21:20:00.014-05:00

I'm a yeller. I yell when I'm feeling rushed, frustrated, upset at other things, tired and overwhelmed. I yell not when my kids are being "bad" but more when I don't have the inner resources to cope with them being the 5, 3, 1 year olds that they are. In these moments, I don't just yell, I scream like a psychotic woman. It's seriously a scene from Mommy Dearest. While it effectively stops any annoying, obnoxious behavior the kids were engaging in, it probably does so because it totally freaks them out and/or devastates them into tears of fear and shock. I then experience "shouters remorse" for 2 days straight.

Though I am a yeller/screamer, I hate myself when I do it. But, in the grand scheme of parenting, yelling seems like a basic behavior management technique in the tool bag of most parents. Yelling, to a certain extent, is part of childhood, normalized and (as long as it doesn't go too far) socially accepted. Spanking, on the other hand, has always been more of a hot topic.

Well NOW it is suggested that yelling may be just as harmful as spanking... and perhaps, as Amy McCready suggests, yelling is the "new spanking." This very topic is discussed in a very compelling and sobering article in the New York Times by Hilary Stout entitled "Shouting Is The New Spanking." The article considers the potential harmful consequences of yelling at our children and points out that negative words given in harsh, overly critical and punitive tones added up over time are not only ineffective in managing problematic behavior but may also hurt a child's esteem, sense of self, and interpersonal interactions.

What really hit home to me was the analogy that if someone yells at us... a spouse, a friend, a co-worker, a stranger, it is a very emotionally laden experience and can often pierce us, anger us, confuse us, or make us feel threatened, unsafe, or not cared about, depending on the circustances and the words used. While we as adults know how unpleasant being yelled at is for us, this article points out how common place it is to see yelling, nitpicking, sarcasm, and snapping occuring daily with our children (mine are certainly no exception). Perhaps it is because only children can push your sanity to the edge...

A Professor on the Study of Interpersonal Acceptance and Rejection discusses how it isn't the yelling per se, but how the yelling is interpreted by that child. If it connotes anger, insult or sarcasm, it can be pereceived as rejection and have problematic effects. He doesn't beat around the bush, stating "Don't yell" and sites yelling as a risk factor for families.

Um, Yikes. I don't just yell "per se." I go for the gusto. I can get just plain nasty.

Double yikes.

What do YOU think? I'm interested in your opinions! To read this article, look over in my sidebar and find the Juice Box Jungle Widget. Wait until the graphic says "NY Times Shouting Vs. Spanking" (the widget flashes through several different images) and click to read the NY Times article - a short and provocative read. Take their poll too regarding spanking. Leave me your thoughts if you're so inclined. Especially if they relieve my insane guilt for ruining the lives of my children.

Weekend Wrap Up

2009-11-01T22:22:00.006-05:00

Saturday full of candy and fun with the girls

And a Sunday Baptism - That's me with the baby, a first time Godmother!!

A Day Of Halloween Parades

2009-10-31T10:19:00.003-04:00

The day began with Pink's Kindergarten parade...

Then over to CB's parade

to see one pissed off witch.

Nominate A "Care Hero" on Care.com

2009-10-29T12:30:00.002-04:00

Know An Amazing Caregiver? Nominate Him or Her for The Care Hero Contest Sponsored By Care.com. They could win $500.00 in prizes and YOU the nominee could win $100.00 too!

Care.com wants to reward an exceptional caregiver who is also a Care Hero! Beginning October 29th, you’ll be able to nominate a caregiver who deserves to be called a Care Hero by visiting www.facebook.com/caredotcom and nominating them. Share their photo and a short story of why you think they should win, then make sure to get your friends involved — the comments on your nominee’s photo will help them win the contest!

At the end of November, Care.com will choose a Grand Prize winner to be the 2010 Care.com Care Hero. The winning caregiver will receive a $500 "Care Package" including hotel stay, tickets to a show, and dinner courtesy of Care.com!. As a thank you, they're giving the nominator of the winning Care Hero a $100 restaurant gift certificate as well. Plus, they will choose weekly caregiver winners who will each receive a $100 restaurant gift certificate. If you nominated a weekly winner, you will receive a free, 3-month Premium Membership to Care.com.

Care.com provides a trusted place for families and caregivers (babysitters, nannies, special needs caregivers, tutors, senior caregivers) to easily connect and get advice. The service enables families to find and select the best care possible based on detailed profiles, background checks, and references for hundreds of thousands of caregivers who are seeking to share their services.

So come to Facebook, share a photo of your Care Hero, and tell us what they've done! And be sure to thank them during National Family Caregiver Month!

I'm a Spicy Pickle!

2009-10-28T21:36:00.000-04:00

I wanted to thank Corrie at Just Because My Pickle Talks Doesn't Make Me And Idiot. She created some adorable awards (she's so creative!) and I received this awesome one for my post "Goody Bag Guilt."

Corrie is a passionate, fun, creative blogger and mother of 3. Her middle child is diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. I love stopping by her blog and you will too! Go over and tell her I said "hi."

Please, all of you in my sidebar and those whom I read, grab a Spicy Pickle Award - I nominate ALL of you! Pass it on and make sure to show some link luv to Corrie and her Talking Pickle!

The Invisible Disabilities: Are They Treated Fairly?

2009-10-27T17:35:00.028-04:00

Or, Why I Hate The Beeachay At Crappy Lab Corp
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"You can just wait like everyone else" a sour faced receptionist shot at me. "You mothers of Autistic kids always come in here expecting special treatment when your children are just as capable of waiting in line as any other child is."

No. She. Didn't. She didn't just go there.

These words were spoken to me 5 years ago but still feel like a fresh wound every time I go back to get CB's blood drawn. This is the story, told as if it were yesterday because sometimes that's how it feels...

It's 7:05 am at a Lab Corp facility where I need to get CB's blood drawn to check her med levels. The tiny, sterile waiting area is wall to wall with people, spilling out into the halls. The wait is likely close to an hour. CB, very severe on the autistic spectrum, does not handle crowds, cramped spaces, uncertainty, waiting, and other general realities of life very well. As she is utterly non-verbal, she has no other way to communicate her discomfort other than behavioral meltdown. I'm completely in a panic and feel the hundred eyes in the waiting room on me and my "different" child. People shift nervously in their seats as my daughter jumps, squeals, moans, drools, hits, and otherwise does not act like a typical citizen in a typical waiting room on a typical day. I feel like I have to apologize for being out in public. For corrupting everyone's "normal" lives with the abnormality of our presence.

When I realize the length of the wait, the conditions of the waiting area, and CB's difficulty with such sensory overload, I start to deliberate whether or not I should ask the staff people if any accommodations can be made for my daughter. Flushed, feeling conspicuous, fragile, and anxious I go to the front desk seeking assistance, empathy, and yes, I suppose a little special treatment. What I get is the quote from "Sally" with which I opened this post. "You can just wait like everyone else. You mothers of Autistic kids always come in here expecting special treatment when your children are just as capable of waiting in line as any other child is."

She can wait like any other child? No, you compassionless, ignorant shrew, that is the problem! She CANNOT wait like any other child. If she COULD I wouldn't be standing here in front of you humbling myself asking you for assistance! She is NOT any other child. She is not in control of herself. Her AUTISM is in control. Her brain is structurally different. She has the diagnoses of: chronic static encephalopathy, generalized seizure disorder, severe to profound mental retardation, and Autistic Disorder. She is disabled. She looks relatively "normal," but she is disabled. She cannot dress herself, bathe herself, brush her own teeth, open a container, buckle or unbuckle her seatbelt, manage her menses, cut up her food, talk... I mean, she eats her own sh*t for God's sake! DIS. AB. LED. She cannot "wait" in this overcrowded, fluorescently lit waiting room without making everyone's life a living hell. She is not spoiled. She is not poorly disciplined. She has Autism and cognitive impairments. Ever hear of it?

The audacity of me to request a little special attention! I am so sorry. How dare I cash in on a no-wait pass at Disney or a little respite care through Division of Developmental Disabilities. What a heinous, self-serving mother I am! And, to expect a little help at a facility that provides patient care? I am so used to getting my ass kissed because of my child's special needs that it certainly makes living with Autism so rewarding! Boy I'm making out like a bandit, alright. I get to cut in line at Lab Corp, which certainly counterbalances the fact that I also get to clean up her almost daily fecal smears, worry about her running into traffic, spend about a billion dollars to take care of her the rest of her life, and manage every aspect of her self care. I get to stress about the severe seizure disorder that has landed her in the hospital numerous times starting at 4 months of age. A seizure disorder that could realistically be the death of her. Please forgive me for my selfish request. I am not worthy. She is not worthy. She's only autistic after all. She'll manage. We'll sit and wait like everyone else, because after all, we ARE like everyone else, aren't we?!?

This whole thing made me wonder if this type of attitude was reserved for the disabilities that are less physical and perhaps less easily understood? The Invisible Disabilities. Had CB been in a wheelchair, hooked up on monitors, missing a limb or blind, would I have encountered the same resistance? I'm not sure. Maybe this particular woman was such a Beeeachay that I would have. But it seems to me, anecdotally at least, that when a child has ADHD, Conduct Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Autistic Spectrum Disorder (especially "high functioning), Tourette's, or a psychiatric diagnosis sometimes people interpret the behavior as "within that child's (or parent's) control." At times, the less disabled you LOOK, the less accommodations and understanding you are given. At TIMES. Certainly, this is the exception. But when it DOES happen, it shatters you.

Clearly, in this case, the extent of CB's disabilites were "invisible" to Sally and therefore my daughter was deemed undeserving of any accommodations. If everyone else has to wait an hour, CB can wait an hour too. Now, I'm certainly not against CB being treated "like everyone else." In fact, that's my lifelong goal. BUT, I guess there is a caveat. Give her the same opportunites and value her quality of life the same as "everyone else." Treat her with the respect and dignity "everyone else" deserves. But, when she needs accommodations, give her a break! The kid didn't ask to be born this way. Can you throw us a bone?

So, what's next Miss Sally? Will a person confined to a wheelchair have the audacity to ask for a ramp? Will a blind person have the presumption to ask for signs in Braille or permission to bring their seeing eye dog into the waiting room? Last time I checked, accommodating disabilities was the law. Last time I checked, Autism and cognitive impairments were disabilities.

Who knew ignorance could be such a lethal weapon? Wielded like a dagger, it aims for the heart. Slashing at a wound as invisible as Autism itself. A wound that never stops hemorrhaging.

* This was originally posted on Autism Sucks

Weekend Wrap Up

2009-10-26T15:07:00.012-04:00

This weekend was all about fusion. It was a weekend of running around, work, lack of sleep, and new house purchases and decisions. But, it was also a weekend of decadence.

Am I the best Mom ever making these pancakes? SOMEBODY thinks so!

And I got a night out on the town with my sister. We went to Steven Star's pod in Philly. I cannot express enough how awesome this food was! Asian fusion. Swanky environment -uber modern, sushi conveyor belt, and even if you don't have to take a piss, go to the bathrooms because they are so freakin' cool! The whole place reminds me of a fusion between Woody Allen's Sleeper and the Jetson's.

This was the best desserts I've ever had. Crispy spring roll wrapper lightly fried to a crunch and stuffed with peanut butter and fluff (yes, a fluffernutter, that's all gooey and warm and melty) with a side of dark chocolate for dipping. How's that for fusion? Random, yes. But dude, it works.

Falling For Fall

2009-10-25T14:44:00.002-04:00

More Awards!!! Whooo Hooooo!!!

2009-10-24T21:08:00.007-04:00

I was recently awarded 2 blog awards: One Lovely Blog Award was given to me by Erika over at The Flight Of Our Hummingbird. The Over The Top Award was also given to me by BOTH Erika AND BJ from the sensational blog For What It's Worth... Or Not.

First, I want to thank Erika whose blog touches my heart and soul with its sincerity, strength, vulnerability, and beautiful writing. I also want to thank BJ whose blog is a new find for me. It is a breath of fresh air, beautiful to the eye, and full of humor, fun, and real life. Thank you guys both for being my supportive readers and such wonderful, talented bloggers!

Now, I'm passing both of these awards on to these well-deserving AWESOME bloggers and encourage you all to hop over and visit each one! You'll keep coming back for more, I promise!
Away We Go
Just Because My Pickle Talks Doesn't Make Me An Idiot
The Phamily Blog
The Bon Bon Gazette
Becoming a Work From Home Mom: A Journey To Freedom
To those who have been given these 2 awards... Write a post and proudly display your awards! If you'd like, you can pass on the award to other bloggers you know. In your post, copy this meme below (or whatever the heck its called) and answer the following questions, for no reason whatsoever. Hey, I don't make this stuff up, I just follow the directions:

1. Where is your cell phone? good question

2. Your hair? dirty, uncombed and in desperate need of color

3. Your mother? a trip

4. Your father? a surgeon

5. Your favorite food? sushi, seafood, ice cream, and anything chocolate.

6. Your dream last night? I forget now

7. Your favorite drink? diet pepsi, frozen pina coladas, hot caramel apple cider

8. Your dream/goal? survive the day. Oh, and get a book published. In that order.

9. What room are you in? CB's room because thats the only place for the computer

10. Your hobby? writing/blogging

11. Your fear? child abduction, no afterlife, and that Bush will get back in office

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? with my husband and children

13. Where were you last night? home

14. Something that you aren't? sane

15. Muffins? sure, why not?

16. Wish list item? CB out of diapers

17. Where did you grow up? Suburbs of Philly

18. Last thing you did? cooked dinner

19. What are you wearing? A wetsuit with a pink tutu. WTH?

20. Your TV? off

21. Your pets? none

22. Friends? my support system

23. Your life? pretty bleepin' GREAT!

24. Your mood? improving

25. Missing someone? nope

26. Vehicle? smashed up

27. Something you’re not wearing? a coat? this is so dumb

28. Your favorite store? ummmm, i dont shop for me anymore

29. Your favorite color? sage green

30. When was the last time you laughed? yesterday

31. Last time you cried? dont remember... but probably reading Rhema's Hope because I always cry when I read it.

32. Your best friend? my husband

33. One place that I go to over and over? Insanityville? Oh, and the grocery store

34. One person who emails me regularly? more than one

35. Favorite place to eat? ummmmm.... don't go out to eat either

Wow. I'm such a super exciting person I just can't stand it!

Plant A Seed And Watch It Grow

2009-10-23T14:29:00.008-04:00

When we were at the playground, I showed the girls an interesting seed pod from a tree. Inside, were tiny black seeds. The girls eagerly "planted" them in the ground before we left. As I packed up our things and we began walking back to the car, Tink ran back over to where she planted her seed and hunched down over it, looking intensely. I called out to her "Tink! C'mon! What are you doing over there?"

She stood up and started running back shouting proudly:
"I needed to water my seed... so I spit on it!"
Ummmm.... creative problem solving?

Blogging For A Cause: Support "Dress For Success" By Making Every Cup Count

2009-10-22T11:23:00.000-04:00

Dress For Success is an international non-profit organization helping disadvantaged women across the globe find jobs and stay employed. Their mission is "to promote the economic independence of disadvantaged women by providing professional attire, a network of support, and the career development tools to help women thrive in work and life."

Together, Nestlé COFFEE-MATE® and Dress for Success are sharing a new initiative geared toward providing encouragement to women seeking jobs while also supplying some helpful money-saving tips to all of us in these difficult economic times.

Nestlé COFFEE-MATE® has committed to donating $50,000 to Dress for Success. But with a little help from you, up to $150,000 can be raised!

What Can You Do To Help? Simply send a Cup of Confidence note to help inspire a Dress for Success client. COFFEE-MATE® will then donate fifty cents to Dress for Success for every "cup of confidence" note sent. Your note will actually be given to a woman who participates in the Dress for Success program for inspiration on how to thrive in work and in life. You can donate an additional $.50 for sharing the program on your social media pages such as Facebook by posting the badge found at www.coffee-mate.com/cup!

If you visit the “chat for change section” on Coffee-Mate.com you’ll not only receive money saving tips but also help others succeed and prosper. It's such an easy way to give and help. So please, send a Cup of Confidence note, calculate your own savings, and make every cup count!

Vanishing Acts

2009-10-21T08:03:00.000-04:00

When I was pregnant with Rella and went in for our first ultrasound, we got a big surprise... there was a twin. This twin, whose existence was unknown to us until that very moment, had only been alive for about 8 weeks. So, in the moment I found out I was carrying twins I was also finding out I had lost one. An odd feeling, to say the least. Certainly, this was not at ALL the same as losing a child... we went into the ultrasound believing I was carrying one healthy baby and I left knowing I was carrying one healthy baby. I would never ever describe this as a loss of a child or a miscarriage... yet to my embarrassment, I had to go into the hospital's hallway bathroom and blurt out a short, chest-heaving cry.

It was a phenomenon called a "Vanishing Twin." Apparently, rather common yet generally people don't even know they HAD the twin growing in their belly unless they had a super early ultrasound. Interestingly, it seems to be most common when you are of "Advanced Maternal Age" *eye roll* which I was for my last 3 pregnancies. In the "old" days, you'd NEVER know without the benefit of our current technology. Now, they can tell you and I'm not sure it's even worth it. Somethings may be better left to ignorance. The thing with the Vanishing Twin is that the body re-absorbs the embryo over time until it disappears. Vanishes into the body. By the time of the last trimester, there is no physical trace that a potential life was here then gone.

I remember after I got home that night, I was backtracking to the time the doctor said the twin stopped showing signs of life. I guess, technically the day I "miscarried" her. I immediately knew the day it must have happened. I had worked out at my gym, as I did throughout the whole pregnancy. One evening I had felt particularly crampy to the point I had to lay down in bed. I even complained about it to my husband... something very unusual for me because I have very nice pregnancies and never complain about being pregnant OR lay down before 9:00 pm. I thought about how if I just didn't lift weights so much that day, that maybe right now Rella would be giggling with her sister. Of course, I say SISTER because my womb seems to be a hostile environment for testosterone. Or perhaps, that should give me reason to believe that it was a boy, which is why my body revolted against him.

I guess what I'm trying to say is knowing what I know about Vanishing Twins, it's like, they are never really completely viable in the first place. Which is why they don't make it. It's like, they never really had a chance, which I find profoundly sad. A brief little life that begins and ends in darkness. I know there was nothing I could have done to prevent the vanishing act, so I feel no guilt. It was in the cards. The DNA. The Master Plan.

But there is another vanishing act that has occurred which I have a harder time reconciling. It's much harder not to wonder if what I did pre-natally had an effect on CB... particularly when I did not know I was pregnant until I was 22 weeks along. And, as a 24 year old, single girl hanging out with my single friends, obviously I was not taking care of myself the way a knowingly pregnant woman would. Even after her diagnosis there were many things I should have done differently and I wonder if her functionng level would have been higher had I been a better, more proactive mother instead of a selfish, distracted, and naive, depressed one. In short, I have lived 14 years under the unbearable weight of guilt.

But, couldn't it be that all of this was pre-ordained? Written in the stars? No matter what I did or did not do, her fate was to be this? While I can accept adult responsibility for the past, guilt is neither productive nor loving. Guilt cannot change the past or the future. It just constricts your air and strangles your limited energy. While I'm not letting myself completely off the hook, I'm starting to recognize that perhaps I was not entirely responsible for her neurological and developmental situation. And to the extent I didn't behave in the most productive ways with her post-diagnosis, I have to remember I was a child (not necessarily in age, but in maturity), surprised with unplanned motherhood and "trapped" in a quite unhealthy marriage with a man I did not love... or love enough. I, in short, was not at my best.

Like Rella's twin, an unknown soul who silently faded away before she barely began, perhaps CB's disabilities were inevitable. Despite my actions, attempts, love, and faith, the baby I knew and the life I thought we would share would slowly vanish before my eyes. Becoming part of my cells, whispering to me between the beats of my heart.

Only this time, I didn't have the protection of ignorance. This time, I got to fall in love with her before she disappeared.