It's That Time of Year Again...

We're rapidly approaching the month of April which means you'll be seeing people post 'autism awareness' images and 'lighting it up blue'.
You will also see the Autistic community and their allies bitching about it.
See, 'awareness' sucks. 'Awareness' is prevalence rates and tragedyspeak and 'we need to find a cure' crap. It's a money grab by Autism $peaks and the scarier they can make the 'awareness', the more cash will flow into their coffers. And Twizzler Challenges? No.

*Image description: Super cute little girl with blond hair, pink sunglasses and a pink tee shirt that reads 'Autism Speaks does NOT speak for me'.



We're all about 'Autism Acceptance' up in heyah. Acceptance is understanding that it's not all doom and gloom. That, yes, some times are really rough but many are beautiful and full of joy and that's what we should focus on. It's learning to embrace difference instead of merely tolerating or even trying to eradicate it. It's understanding that maybe that 'spoiled brat' screaming in the checkout line is really an autistic child who is experiencing sensory overload and giving them a kind smile instead of the stinkeye. It's understanding that children don't magically outgrow autism and that you have probably known autistic adults in your life and never realized it.

So, what is autism? Autism is a little girl who sang so much her parents didn't realize she couldn't talk. It's a little girl who is terrified of seeing someone sweep with a broom but loves to use a broom herself. Autism is listening to Gangnam Style, on repeat, every time we went anywhere in the car. For four months straight.
It's the Wiggles Christmas DVD year round.
It's belly cuddles and bracelet collections and spontaneous giggles.
It's a child who notices everything and forgets nothing.
And she'll swipe your phone in a heartbeat.
It's the 42 year old woman who spent her life being told that she was crazy only to discover that her brain really does work differently from others. And that it doesn't mean she's broken. It's the 42 year old woman who doesn't understand why the world works the way it does but can instantly understand why her child can't tolerate going into a BJ's Wholesale Club.
It does not mean Rainman but sometimes I do hear,"Uh oh, mama!", hundreds of times in one day.
Autism means that 'hundreds of times in one day' is not an exaggeration. 
Autism also means that your mother's mail carrier's autistic cousin probably doesn't appear to be anything like my 4 year old. Or myself. There is no One True Autism. 

Autism is not all rainbows and unicorns all the time. It is disabling to some degree on even the best of days. I will never post about many of Evie's struggles  because being 4 years old does not mean her dignity should be ignored. If she wants to talk about them in a blog someday, that's up to her. I don't mind talking about my own difficulties. I'm pretty much an open book but I don't always work,"I had a meltdown yesterday and beat my legs with a hairbrush", into everyday conversations.
I kinda want to now, though. "Did you see last night's episode of Supernatural? Wasn't Cas hysterical? Speaking of, sometimes I scream and cry and pull hair out of my head when I'm overwhelmed."
Or not. *sigh*

 So what did we learn today? Acceptance = Good. 'Awareness' = Bad. My kid is all kinds of awesome and she wouldn't be herself without her autistic neurology. Me? Every 6 months or so I manage a minute or two of awesomeness but, yes, I wouldn't be me without my autistic brain, either.

Mothers. Pfffft.

Today is Mothers' Day in the UK so I was looking up images to find one I could post for my friends over there. Holy reverence, Batman! Apparently there are people who think moms deserve credit for 'all they do'. *blankstare*
'All they do'?! But everyone knows that mothers do nothing! Well, I'm sure that technically eating bon bons and watching TV all day is doing something but it's certainly not something important.
Yeah, that was sarcasm. *sigh*

Oh, I don't believe that just popping out a kid makes one deserving of a pedestal on high but it never ceases to amaze me how little respect women get when actually trying their best at raising kids. If the kids are less than perfect it's the mother's fault but when they turn out to be decent human beings it's 'luck'. Like Spiderman taught us, with great power comes great responsibility...and apparently zero credit for any of the good results.

I had a dream last night that a stranger told me I was doing a 'good job' with my kids and I cried. Why should that have to feel like such a big thing? Yes, I was 'lucky' enough to be too disabled to hold a job so I stayed home with my kids. I guess it's also 'luck' that I actually pay attention to the anklebiters and try to teach them stuff. Important stuff like quoting Psycho, appreciating bad 80's music and, I dunno, being good people or something.

Many of us willingly choose to become mothers. Some of us choose to put our children first but few of us knew we were choosing a position where we would be constantly picked apart and disrespected.

So who are the people creating all these reverent images of motherhood?!
.
.
.
Um...probably other mothers.

I Can Dish It Out But I Can't Take It

Advice.
It's a thorny subject for me.
My childhood was less than stellar and I was The Crazy One of the family but, amazingly enough, no one ever acted like they thought I was stupid. My whole life I had adults telling me I was intelligent. They might have complained about my lack of motivation but they treated me like I was smart.

And then I moved into the world of romantic relationships. Specifically, romantic relationships with much older partners. Suddenly it was a miracle that I was even smart enough to remember to breathe. I used to think it was a guy thing but even my girlfriend treated me like I was incompetent and couldn't be trusted to make decisions more important than choosing what cereal I wanted for breakfast. My personal favorite was the Let Me Verify What You Said By Checking With Someone Else game.

Me: "The weather report said it's supposed to hit 65 today."
Them: "Really?"
*later*
Them: "You were right. I ran into Random Person and they said the weather report said the same thing."
Me: *headdesk*
I couldn't even be trusted with something as simple as repeating a weather report. Silly, stupid girl. 

I think. A lot. Generally several steps ahead. Very little of what I do can be considered random. My internal dialog contains some variation of 'If I do this then that will happen' pretty much all the time. Even something as simple as going to the bathroom has a process. Coffee cup, phone and ecig put up out of reach? If I forget and leave them down she could get into them. Door chained? I don't want her taking off. Oh, the door is chained and it's almost time for the teen to come home? Better wait a few minutes so he's not stuck unable to come in. I used to assume that everyone did this but was often frustrated by what seemed to be other people's illogical behavior. Why do this if you know that that will happen? And then act surprised by the consequences?

What does all of this have to do with advice? I know that most people offer advice out of a genuine desire to help but in my life it has often been used as a tool to insult my intelligence. The line between the two can get blurry, especially if I'm having a Bad Self Esteem day.

I don't usually bitch about a problem unless I've already run through the possible solutions in my head so an obvious suggestion always strikes me as a bit insulting. Just yesterday I was sputtering about my new chair being too high and had several people throughout the day suggest that I try lowering it.
*sigh*
I'm having a Bad Self Esteem week which is pretty much why I bothered to write about this in the first place. It feels like so much of what I say and do lately is drawing commentary that makes me feel worse and does nothing to help solve my problems. Most of them can't be solved but having it perpetually implied that it's because I'm not smart enough just compounds the issues.


All that being said, I do try to be careful with the way I dispense advice to others. I know some of the things I do are a bit outside the box and may not be obvious to others. Kid freaking out and being miserable? Try drawing a face on your belly or some other ridiculous thing you probably don't feel like doing because you're worn out from your kid being miserable but sometimes ridiculousness snaps them out of it and then you're both happy. I try to keep my advice limited to those things that were probably not included in the first 15 solutions you thought of yourself already.


So, um, yeah. That's my rant for this week. It was hard to pick just one cranky topic since I had so many to choose from this week. Besides, if I had written about any of the others, folks would have been inclined to give me advice on how to deal with them.

Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys.

I've been struggling with social stuff lately. I've never really fit in and, frankly, I often find it hard to like people.
Nobody panic. If you're reading this through a link I've posted, you've made the cut.

I find it difficult to understand why people do the things they do and if their behavior strikes me as illogical my brain can't handle it. My immediate reaction is,"MAKE IT GO AWAY!" Sometimes I can suppress the urge but it inevitably wins out.

In the past week or two I have tried to make many people go away. Turns out it's harder than it should be. When someone unfriends me on social media I might wonder briefly what I may have said to offend them but it passes quickly. I understand that not everyone will like me which is no big deal.
Apparently others don't feel that way. They want me to tell them 'why'. My problem is that I really don't like to be mean and any lies I come up with just sound wishy washy. They're all people I have minimal to no contact with in the real world and it stresses me out that they think sharing a network is so damned important.

I'm feeling a bit like Claire in The Breakfast Club but we really have nothing in common. Why would we hang out, even just electronically? Yes, we all have children but if you think 'the only thing wrong with kids today is that we're no longer allowed to beat them', we're not even occupying the same universe. Or you refuse to vaccinate your kids but spend your evenings with them too drunk and/or stoned to properly care for them. Or I only ever see you bitch about your kids. I like my kids and I like being a mom. All your postings do is make me feel sorry for your children.

And then there's the drama. I just can't do it. I understand that we all make choices that can result in unwanted consequences but when it becomes a lifestyle my brain simply can't process it. The instant I hear things like,"My husband/exhusband/boyfriend/exboyfriend has been in prison for years and will be getting out soon.", alarms start going off in my head. You could be the nicest person in the world who made one bad relationship choice but it's not worth risking my (or my kids') mental or physical health to stick around and find out. My experience with people has been that bad choices tend to be a habit. Most of us learn with time but I don't have the spoons to deal with the process.  Ditto with alcoholics and drug addicts. You may be a great person but I really can't add that to my plate. Been there, done that, have the dead best friend to show for it.

 I have dozens of people in my social networks whom I will never meet in person. The thing is, I would be happy to. From now on my 'imaginary friends' will only be people I would be willing to sit and have a cup of coffee with.

You Say 'Obsession' Like It's a Bad Thing

One of the first things we were told when Evie was diagnosed was,"You should discourage her obsessions."

Pfffft.

Of course I did the opposite.
She gets on a kick and we indulge her to her heart's content. Sunglasses? Check. Bracelets? Check. Rings? Lipstick? Nail polish, phones, watches, music? Check.
These are her happy and her calm. I just don't have it in me to say,"You're autistic so you love things wrong."
 
And don't forget limiting 'screen time'. 'Screen time' is The Biggest of the Bads.  Her OT was disgusted that we ordered her a Kindle. You know, the Kindle that she goes weeks at a time without touching. She loves herself a phone (and how!) but even that comes down to music. Spotify and YouTube are her two best friends.

Now, my neurotypical son? He's the King of Screen Time. He was 3 years old the first time he sat down at a computer and it was as if he had been born with a mouse in his hand. Talk about obsessed. I never limited his 'screen time'. I was too busy being proud of his mad skills. And video games? He had every major gaming console for years, even when it required numerous family members chipping in to help purchase them. "But violence blah blah blah!" That was never a big thing. When he was 8 or 9 I rented Grand Theft Auto for him. I then sat down with him while he played it and provided a running commentary of things like,"Do you see how stupid this is?", or,"Does this seem 'cool' or 'right' to you?" So when the rest of his friends were obsessed with the series because their parents wouldn't let them play it he was all,"Meh. It's stupid." *poof*  No interest in killing hookers. 

His 'obsession' with technology has earned him several college credits already (he's only a Junior in high school) and landed him The World's Greatest First Job Ever. He gets to do tech support and is making a higher hourly wage than most of the jobs I ever had. And, hey, it's not a soul crushing grind.

Will Evie's interest in accessorizing ever land her a rewarding career? I don't know and, frankly, I don't care. I'm just not going to sit here and say,"It's not normal to want to wear so many watches so I'm not going to let you do it." I wouldn't discourage my neurotypical kid's interests and I refuse to discourage hers just because she's autistic.

There's a Freedom to Being a Middle Aged Fat Chick

A friend posted an article this morning that discussed feeling 'invisible' due to men only giving attention to women half their age. My immediate response was to point out that those men weren't worth pursuing but then I got to thinking about the 'invisible' part.

Invisibility rocks for those of us who have lived our lives with social anxiety. No one pays any attention to the tired looking, overweight woman with graying hair. It's not just men, either. Women see that you've 'let yourself go' and they pay you no mind. You're not different enough to draw contempt and you're not good looking enough to be a threat.

INVISIBILITY! w00t!

I spent most of my life wanting to blend but always managed to stand out nonetheless. It wasn't that I was such a looker. I just happened to be unusually small. 5' with an average weight of 95-100lbs draws attention whether you want it to or not. Women were the worst, though. I can't even count the number of times I would enter a situation only to be met with a stinkeye before I could even open my mouth to speak. Nowadays their eyes just slide right past me. I'm clearly not gonna be taking their menfolk.

Do I have moments when I wish I could fit into one of the old dresses still hanging in my closet because I've been too lazy to get rid of them? Or have the urge to pick up a box of hair dye when I'm in Walmart? Of course, but the feelings pass quickly when I remember all the baggage that came along with my 30 year old self's body. 

Plus, I have two daughters. They have the entire world telling that they have to be perfect. They need a mom in their corner saying,"Hey. You be you. Don't worry about them." More importantly, they need a mom showing them that.

I love me some good 'beauty' products but they're all about smelling good and not having alligator skin. Scaly and itchy isn't a good time for anyone. Ten years ago I was sucked in by the products trumpeting 'REDUCE THE APPEARANCE OF FINE LINES' but now I'm immune to that nonsense. I have wrinkles and saggy skin and I'm totally okay with that.

I'll happily continue to rock my not-even-remotely-styled graying hair while wearing my XL jeggings paired with a shapeless Doctor Who tee. After all, no one can see me anyway.

I'm Not Always Angry.

Lulz. Just kidding.

I'm angry a lot. I think it's the result of being a control freak. I get overwhelmingly frustrated with the world around me. Sometimes I can just let it go but other times I run out of patience completely. A couple times a year I snap and start deleting people from my social networks because I just can't take it any more.

I know some people enjoy my rants but I get tired of being so damned pissy all the time.

I reach the point where even minor things set me off. Does it really matter that someone believes Obama is having Big Pharma drop Ebola carrying nanobots through 'chemtrails' to implant us all with microchips that will trigger an immune response that will leave us all sterile?
Of course not but the ignorance still makes me want to throatpunch them through my monitor. There is enough in our world to get upset about without having to fabricate ridiculous shit like that.

Well, off to read my newsfeed. I'm sure there won't be anything there that could trigger me.

Because My Day Wouldn't Be Complete Without Pissing Someone Off...

I was sitting here thinking,"Thank God it's the last day of school before Winter Break!", and it got me to thinking about some posts I see on a regular basis that bother me.

You know the ones I mean. The incessant posts bitching about kids being out of school or, on the flip side, celebrating kids going back to school. Now, I completely understand if it's a work conflict/need to find a sitter situation but I never see the posts framed that way. They all come across as,"Why do I actually have to spend time with these small humans I chose to create?!"

I always loved weekends and breaks. Especially summer vacation. Not only did I get to spend more time with my kids but the stress of following a schedule was removed. I like my kids. They're good peoples and, more often than not, wildly entertaining. Frankly I always resented having to hand them over to someone else and am thrilled that we will be home schooling Evie. MINE! ALL MINE! Mwahahahahahahaha!!!

                                                                    You can't have her!

And speaking of autistic children, the majority of 'autism mom' pages spend entirely too much time bitching about the 'struggle' of being around their children. I can recall one rather spectacular public meltdown because a woman's after school respite worker was quitting. Initially I thought she meant an actual babysitter, like it was interfering with her ability to work, but nope. She was home but she needed respite after her child was gone at school all day. 

If I sound judgy it's because I hella am. What does it do to a child's self esteem to hear their mothers piss and moan every time they have to actually spend time with them? All I can think is that the world is populated with people who somehow never managed to notice the parents and kids around them so they had no idea it would entail, you know, work. It's not always easy and sometimes I would prefer to hear something other than the Wiggles Christmas DVD or be able to relax without a loud crashing sound coming from the other room or prepare yet more food that will go uneaten. It's a tough gig but the rewards are immense.

I dunno. I guess I just think people should appreciate their kids more. 'They won't be little forever' is such a cliche but it's true.

Don't Feel That Way.

I've spent the better part of the last 42 years wondering if my feelings and experiences are so damned invalid because I'm a woman or because I'm 'crazy'. Is it sexism, ableism or just a fun combination of the two?

If I had a dime for every time someone told me I had 'nothing to be depressed about' or that I should 'just stop worrying' I would be too rich to qualify for disability for my, you know, clinical depression and anxiety. *headdesk*

A friend posted a graphic this morning that was a response for all those who tell the chronically ill 'at least it's not cancer'. No doubt the people who say that are the same people who tell women devastated by miscarriage that 'at least it wasn't a real baby'. According to the graphic, the proper response is to punch the offending person and say,"At least it wasn't a gunshot."

Seriously, though. Why do people feel so compelled to minimize and invalidate the experiences of others? What exactly do they gain from it? Is it simply that they might feel obliged to empathize if they acknowledged that there was a problem so it's easier to pretend the person is just overreacting?

We see it all the time with people's reaction to the poor. That person over there can't afford to feed himself? He must not be working hard enough. That homeless person over there must have done something to deserve where they ended up. My situation is legitimate. That person's isn't. Everything is their own fault and if they'd just decide not to be that way their situation would improve.

I know there really isn't a point to this post. People without empathy will continue to belittle others and their experiences. Writing a blog post about it won't change anything. But, hey! People can choose to be All The Good Things and Never Have Problems Again, they're just clearly not trying hard enough.
Well, except for me. My problems are real.

Verbal or Nonverbal?

When Evie was first diagnosed I thought she must be 'verbal'. I mean, she said words here and there and I was seeing all these parents complaining about how they never heard their child's voice so clearly their children were 'nonverbal'.
'Thank goodness my child can talk', I thought,'She must not be very autistic'.

Go ahead and laugh. It's okay.

She couldn't use words to tell us what she needed but she could sing. She could say things like 'Daddy' and 'yogurt' and 'Elmo'. One day I was curious and asked her speech therapist if Evie would be considered verbal or nonverbal. She looked uncomfortable and changed the subject but it answered my question.

Now it's two years later. She chatters up a storm but still isn't conversational. Mostly it's one or two word requests, scripts of things we've said to her or song lyrics. Today something different happened, though. She was stomping loudly when I asked her,"If you want to stomp, where should you do it? Where should you stomp your sillies out?"
She took a minute to think about it (and, honestly I thought she wasn't paying attention to what I said) and then replied,"A trampoline."

I had told her countless times in the past that she should do her stomping on the trampoline but I was shocked by her response. I believe in presuming competence, which is why I asked the question in the first place, but I was still taken by surprise. Part of me knows she will progress and develop skills as time goes by. She already has so much. It's just so easy to fall into the trap of the day to day stuff and assuming it is where we will always be.

It may seem like a silly thing to get so excited over and it may not happen again for a while but it's a glimmer of things to come. 

Image credit: Brooke Goodwin
Image description: Adorable little girl with short dark blond hair, wearing a Little Mermaid tee shirt. She's trying to smile while winking at the camera.

Dear Kid With the Crappy Mother...

I see you.

I see you being treated like shit and neglected and there's nothing I can do about it but let you know that I see.

Sometimes it feels like she has the whole world fooled, doesn't it? After all, she has all her friends around cheering her on and patting her on the back when she disrespects you right in front of them. The thing is, their opinion doesn't matter. They're all peas in a pod treating their own children the way she treats you. Doesn't mean they're right. It just means that the people, like myself, who are horrified by that behavior are out here where you can't see us.

I remember when I was around twenty I had a woman approach me and tell me how sorry she felt for me when I was little. I thanked her and told her I wished someone had told me that when I was going through it because it might have made life more bearable to know there were people who saw the truth.

I see the truth and I do feel sorry for you. It's not fair to be treated badly by the person who brought you into this world. All children deserve to be loved and nurtured and it sucks that you can't have that but do you want to know a secret?

It will make you a better person. Yes, you could lash out at the world or turn to drugs or gravitate towards those who will treat you as badly as you've grown accustomed to...
Or
Or you can take everything you've experienced and turn it into a template of what not to be, of how not to treat people. It can make you strong and empathetic and kind and if you ever decide to become a parent you can be the mother you always wished you had. 

I see you because I've been you.

Things To Talk About At 3am...

Is anybody awake out there? Bored Mommy is bored.
We're all getting over the flu. Well, except for the teenager. He's magically symptom free. I think I'm going to start calling him Typhoid Mary. Evie is now onto the nasty nighttime cough stage of the flu-game. Yay for no fever or difficulty breathing but it's definitely impacting our ability to sleep. She's down on the floor next to me, dozing on her Sofia the First fold out sofa as I type this.

Excuse me as I go fetch another cup o' joe.

Okay. I'm back.

Did I ever tell you about the time I took my eldest to see Eric Idle perform? She was 13 at the time. I opened the Rutland Herald that morning to discover that he would be performing at the Paramount because, well, Rutland. *snigger*

*Image of Eric Idle taken the night of the show.
*Photo Credit: "Eric Idle" by VTscapes - Tom E. Canavan 

When I asked Charlotte if she wanted to go, our conversation went something like this:
Me: "Do you want to go see Eric Idle in Rutland tonight?!"
Charlotte: "Um...the name sounds familiar...who?"
Me: "Sir Robin?"
Charlotte: "YES!" *SQUEE*
Me: *SQUEE*

And there was much rejoicing.

I don't remember much about the first part of the show beyond feeling great pride that my child, sitting there next to me, could happily and accurately sing along with The Galaxy Song but then it happened.
The barbershop quartet filed out.
A wave of horror washed over me as I shrank down into my seat.
How did I forget that Sit On My Face (And Tell Me That You Love Me) was a thing?!
The audience exploded and sang along so loudly that I hoped the words would be a jumbled blur for my daughter. I couldn't bring myself to so much as glance over at her. I wouldn't be surprised if I held my breath through the entire song.
And then it was over. I peeked over at Charlotte and her expression was impassive. "Could be worse", I thought.
At that moment Mr Idle shouted something about how we could do better and a couple stagehands wheeled out a massive board with painted lyrics.
Fuck.
They did it again. I had resigned myself to missing out on the Mother of the Year award for 2003.
On the long drive home I apologized. I explained that I forgot that song existed and hoped she wasn't too embarrassed. Her response?
"Oh, I've heard it before. It's on your Monty Python CD."





 I think about these things as she will be moving far away very soon. Okay, so by 'far away' I mean 'two hours away' but it might as well be the moon. Evie loves a good, long car ride so that's no deterrent but it's quite tricky to take her into non-Evieproofed space. The last time we went to someone else's house she got the exciting idea to open the large, glass curio cabinet and sit her butt down on a shelf of treasures. *twitch* Somehow nothing got broken so, yes, while I do believe in miracles I don't believe they happen regularly so I keep her butt away from other people's stuff as much as I can. Especially other people's stuff that we can't afford to replace.
So, yeah. One is married and moving away and the next in line has his head off at college already. He's only a Junior but there is the possibility of him going off next year to a special program at the tech college he wants to attend. I'm determined to not freak out until everything is set in stone, though. Heh. *sigh* 
But, hey! I still have several years of Evie raising ahead of me. While I will never have the opportunity to take her to see an ex Python singing obscene songs, I have discovered that she enjoys going to the movies. That's something we will do at every opportunity. We just have to kick this flu crudbug first.

Parenting is Hard. Full Stop.

I saw another one of those 'why can't we say it's hard?' posts the other day and I've been thinking about it ever since.

We can say parenting is hard. That's really not up for debate. Anyone who has ever had kids knows it's true. What we can't say is,"Parenting this child is hard."

My offspring are a mix of spectrummy and neurotypical so I have experienced the challenges that come with parenting both. Yes, when my neurotypical son was four I could take a quick shower without fearing that he would tear the house apart or injure himself. Yet I know parents of other neurotypical kids who could not say the same. All kids are different.

Autistic kids are more likely to face bullying which my son has encountered little of. Instead he's the sounding board for too many of his troubled peers. He even has kids he hardly knows messaging him because they 'heard he was good to talk to'. He has needed help in the past dealing with the trauma of everyone else's trauma (sexual assaults, abuse, all the stuff professionals get training to deal with). That was painful and hard. Every bit as stressful as dealing with an autism meltdown.

"But fighting for services for my autistic child is hard!"
So is agonizing over how you're going to find funding for your neurotypical child's college.
Being poor sucks regardless of your child's neurology.

I won't deny that there are challenges to raising an autistic child that you don't necessarily see with a neurotypical child but the same can be said in reverse. I worry just as much about my son's future as I do my little girl's. In fact, I think I worry a little more about his because the world will expect him to do it all on his own. He'll also likely be the one providing support for Evie when her father and I are gone. Of course he adores her and doesn't see her as a burden.

There's also a huge difference between,"Holy crap, my kid just tore the house apart!", and,"My kid just smeared the contents of his diaper all over his bedroom walls!" Both occur with kids of any neurology but the latter is an assault on their dignity when expressed publicly. The world doesn't need to know your child's toileting issues. Many autistic children toilet train late or not at all. It's not the end of the world and they don't need to be publicly humiliated for it.

"My autistic child hits/kicks/bites me!"
Again, I've known parents of neurotypical kids who could say the same.

I get it. I do. We all want encouragement and acknowledgment for all we do as parents but it's not a walk in the park for anyone. Parents of autistic children are not automatically saints or martyrs and it's an insult to our kids when we insist or expect to be treated as such. What message is that sending them?

So...which one comes with the most challenges?

It depends on the day.

*Photo credit: Brooke Goodwin
**Image description: In the background is a smiling 16 year old boy with short brown hair with a tail in back, wearing a black tee shirt. In the foreground is a 4 year old girl with short blond hair wearing a Little Mermaid tee shirt. Both are smiling widely.

Please Don't Call Me a Writer

Yesterday Hubby and I had the same conversation we've had dozens of times over the past 6 years.
"You should be a Writer."

Um...

It's difficult for me to express why the label disturbs me so much. I've always enjoyed tossing out absurd blurbs that may amuse people or make them think but the whole 'Writer with a capital W' bit leaves me cold.

I used to think it was the pressure but I think really that it's been ruined for me by too many pretentious people. In the past ten years I have met many, many people who write. Some are absolutely brilliant, some are absolutely not but most fall somewhere in the middle. All have something to offer but nothing makes me want to walk away faster than when they take themselves too seriously. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about the folks I know who really have talent. I'm talking about the peeps who speak as if their recipe column in the local paper makes them the next Hemingway.

"I'm a *sniff* Writer."
Yep. You and everybody else, dude.

To be fair, I feel the same way about the word Artist with a capital A. My high school Art teacher is still disappointed in me. I know because I run into her a couple times a year.
"Are you creating any art?" Always asked in a hopeful tone.
Um...last week I was doodling stick figure pigs for Evie. She seemed to really enjoy them.

I think another part of it is that I don't feel compelled to reinvent the wheel. There is no shortage of  great material out there so I feel as if much of it has already been said and done. Do I have something to say about any given topic? Odds are someone with far more talent than myself has already so I can say,"Hey. See this? You should read this. I agree with it."  Yes, I will be happy to add accounts of my experience to a collective but it's generally more a way of saying 'you are not alone' than 'look at me writing all this writey stuff for the sake of writing writey stuff'.

I love my Writer friends and I love my Artist friends but they're just not labels I feel apply to me.
I won't get mad, however, if you call me a Mother. I rock that shit.

*Image is a blurry 'selfie' of an adorable 4 year old girl with blond hair and a middle aged woman with glasses. Both are laughing.