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.