I'll Take Heebie Jeebies for $200, Alex.

Death By Mortal Wound or The Heebie Jeebies?
My 7-year-old son is "star of the week" this week in his 2nd grade class, so he had to fill in a poster with photos of things he likes, his family, etc., as well as fill in a few questions. When he showed me what one of the things on his "wish list" was, I told him it was inappropriate and that he needed to change it. Am I wrong? Being a boy and the youngest brother of a Marine-bound 19-year-old, he'd written, "I wish I had a shotgun." Nice. No bueno, young lad. No bueno. So what did he replace it with?


"I wish I had a pet spider."

On second thought, I'd rather you have the shotgun.

At Least My Sons Have . . . Style?
So the only female in the house thinks less about her hair than each of the males. I haven't had my hair cut by a professional in one year and 10 months. I cut it myself. I haven't used any type of hair appliance that plugs in for, probably, a year. I put more time and effort into picking out my socks than I do my hair. I wash it and let it dry. And then the next few days, I put it up. Then I repeat the process. Sometimes I use mousse.

So I find it incredibly funny that I have three boys who care about their hair and how it looks. The 7-year-old is always trying to get his into a "fauxhawk" or combing it just right after it's washed. Today middle dude (12 years old) came home from spending the weekend with Nana and Papa with a freshly-cut flat top. In 2010.

Lastly, oldest dude (19) recently clipped his into a mohawk of sorts (leaving a thin layer on the sides) to honor an agreement he had with one of the youth leaders at our church. They both agreed to do it if the junior high kids raised a certain amount of money for the 30-Hour Famine, a World Vision ministry that fights world hunger. This is my son who used to have long, flowing red hair - which he cut off (16 inches total) for Locks of Love.

I used to think since I don't have any girls, that hair wouldn't be an issue in my house. This is not the case.

Well, There Ya Go.
This evening when I was helping youngest dude print out a couple of pictures for his "star of the week" poster, I printed one that was too small for his liking. After I made it larger and sent it to the printer again, he came walking back into the room, picture in hand, and declared, "Now that's my girl! This one is just right."


 

Losin' It

I am losing faith. Faith in what, you ask? I'm not entirely sure. I'm trying to pinpoint what exactly this feeling is; this something-is-slipping-from-me-and-I-can-feel-it-but-not-stop-it feeling.

Faith in people? Faith in the process of life on earth? Faith in fairness? Faith in my continuing belief in doing the right thing when it seems to be an exercise in futility much of the time?

Have you ever been hit so hard with the realization that you are having absolutely no effect on a situation that you felt as though you'd just had the wind knocked out of you? Furthermore, have you ever been hit so hard with the realization that someone you thought knew you well is so far from knowing you and your heart that it makes you question your interactions with everyone else you know? Like - if this is what this person sees, what does everyone else see of me? Is this what I portray? Is this who I am to other people?

For instance, I was once told by someone I thought knew me very well that I act as though I think my family is better than anyone else's. If you've spent more than one hour with me and know anything about what I deal with and how little self-confidence I have in my abilities as a parent, this has to be as laughable a statement to you as it is to me. Right? But it happened. This was what someone close perceived of me.

More recently, when I was in a conversation with someone and mentioned, " . . . with the issues I have to deal with every day [with my two younger boys' diagnoses and issues] ..." I was mocked for portraying my life "as a big sob story" and called a martyr. To my face.

I am losing faith. In what, again? Well, I suppose I'm losing faith in, among other things, my own ability to do life in a manner that is anywhere in the zip code of what is appropriate to others. I am losing faith in being able to sustain a relationship outside those of my marriage and with my parents, brother and sister.

As I said in a previous post, I cannot seem to keep things to myself. Because if I could, I would have kept these incidents - that have stayed with me deeply - to myself. It is humiliating to know that is how someone sees me. It is disheartening to know that all my actions and beliefs in how to act and treat people and what to do with my time and energy seemingly amounts to this - at least to some. And it makes me want to shut down.

Why? Why would I let something like this dictate what I do or say or how I act? Because things like this affect me deeply. Yes, I am emotionally weak. You can take me down very easily, and I can stay down for awhile. Yes, I give away my power and give others a lot of control over how I feel. Not on purpose - it just happens to be the awesome way I'm built. There. I am not a strong person. Yes, I am stubborn and hard-headed; this is true. But stubborn and strong are not one and the same.

I am losing faith in the process of life as I am knowing and living it. I am losing faith in realizing any kind of remote fairness in the random way some families have so much to deal with while others do not. I am losing faith in getting through. I am losing faith in having any type of positive impact on any of it at all. I am losing faith in trusting that any of this that I divulge to anyone else is doing anything positive for anyone.

I am losing faith in trying.

If the above incidents are any indication at all of who I am and what I'm accomplishing in being authentic about my life as a parent, then I've been doing a whole lot of nothin' for a long time now.

If I live an average life span, then that means I'm half way through my time here on earth. And if this is all I've accomplished and the manner in which I've impacted those around me, then I'm doing it wrong. Very wrong.

Thank you, God, in all seriousness and honesty, for the awesome opportunities you've put before me. I've apparently completely derailed them. And for that, I'm sorry. I truly thought I was doing a good job for at least some of the time so far.

What can I do at this point? I'm not really sure. But I do know this. If these are the perceptions of my life and how it's lived, then I need to shut. up. about. it. I'm either obviously not portraying it accurately or, quite frankly, saying more than anyone can even fathom or believe. Or care about hearing.

I have been told over and over how people appreciate my "realness" and how authentic I am about my life being what it is, being honest about how I try to deal with it, and that I've even helped a few people who thought no one else in the world felt that way.

But it only takes one or two small things of the opposite manner to take me down.

So here it is. At least for now. I don't feel qualified or even comfortable talking about my parenting life in detail. I feel gun-shy, at this point, writing about my boys' lives being lived on the autism spectrum and about how things are spinning around here in any detail for fear of sounding like I'm searching for sympathy.

I really only feel even remotely okay right now writing about myself and my own emotional journey because it is mine and not another person on earth can tell me what is and is not true and accurate about that.

So if you'd like to hear about my own journey of ups and downs and of how I got to be where I am today, tune back in. That's all I'm promising for now.

Timmmmmme Is Not On My Side . . . No It's Not ...

I have two kids on the autism spectrum. I talk about it a lot. It's never been a secret; I actually don't have many secrets. Everyone has a few; and this girl does - just like everyone else. However, my secret bank has a low balance because, as we all know, I just say what I say and tell what I tell and that is who I am. The secrets I do have are not anything that anyone would find funny, amusing, or useful; therefore, I keep them to myself. Hence, the secret designation.

Besides, who really wants to hear about when my friend, Joel, and I (at the ages of about 7 and 5) used to hide behind parked cars on my street and throw dog food at passing vehicles?

See? You don't want to know my secrets. They are deep, dark, and very incriminating.

So. Two kids. On the spectrum. It's no fun, but as they say these days - it is what it is. But I'm here just to say out loud that this life I have as the mother of kids on the spectrum keeps me from being able to adequately participate in other, useful areas of life; therefore, I rely on people around me. I trust those around me and hope that they understand that I am not lazy or apathetic, just emotionally overloaded.

I feel the need to say this because, on the morning after mid-term elections with so many talking about the results, I feel like a very intelligent idiot. I could not tell you what candidate stands for what at this point. I cannot tell you that I'm glad or mad this person or that was elected or not elected into office. I am completely mortified saying this; and I know it makes some want to throw tomatoes at me. But I'm just being honest. I could keep it a secret, but I would rather use this opportunity to explain something that may open up a few to the reality of special-needs parenting.

First, this disclaimer: I am not speaking on behalf of special-needs parents everywhere. I know that a good majority of special-needs parents are very able to deal with all the issues they must deal with as well as become intelligently informed about the candidates representing them. In fact, many make it a priority because the candidates representing them have some say in issues that directly affect special-needs families. So, just to be clear - this is my experience, and not meaning to be representative of any other special-needs folks but myself. This doesn't even include my own husband. Just me.

So here it is. I have two boys on the autism spectrum; one diagnosed at two-and-a-half with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified), and one diagnosed first with ADHD at 9, then a mood disorder at 10, and finally Asperger's Syndrome at 11. It is a rough ride around here. Sometimes we're on top of our game, other times we are struggling just to keep our heads from exploding. This is the reality of our family.

I am the kind of person who, when faced with something I'm unfamiliar with, researches the topic to within an inch of its life. I need to know all I can; talk to whomever I can; find good, knowledgeable people and use them. I do not sit idly by and let what happens just happen. I will do all I can, in my power and within what is reasonable, to navigate toward the best possible outcome. And when it comes to my boys, you can multiply that tenfold. I'm not saying it always works, and I'm not saying it's always the most positive process. But I am a mother. And being a mother, to me, means doing everything that falls within what is feasible to help my boys overcome their challenges.

This takes time and a whole lotta energy - physical, mental, and emotional energy that must come from somewhere within me. We all have an energy bank, and every person's is different - just like our financial bank accounts. You earn only so much, and then there's only so much to go around. Some have unbelievable amounts and can pick and choose at whim what they want to spend it on; others have incredibly limited amounts and cannot do what others are able to.

I believe I'm somewhere in the middle. I don't think I have nearly as much as some people I see who have special-needs children. I see them deal with their children, work tirelessly in their favor, then spend their spare time working endlessly for the cause that has wrapped its wicked hands around their child's life and put them there in the first place. I am in awe of these people. Jane Grimes is one of these people. Look her up - you will love her instantly.

I feel I have a lot to give and spread around, but I also have a big budget that takes it all up. And - here it is, finally. One of the things far, far down in that budget is researching and knowing about mid-term election candidates. I'm sorry. I really, really am. I want to be a good citizen. I want to be informed. But this is one thing I'm relying on people I trust to help me with. People who I know think the same way I do and are parallel with me on issues. Because here is what I know about myself. If I choose to research and get to know the candidates, I will - again - do it to the fullest extent. That is how I do things. I will not stop at names and what they say they stand for. I will spend inordinate amounts of time to come to conclusions. And this is time and energy I do not have to spare right now in this season of my life.

Let's just say I'd be putting it on my energy credit card; and I would run up unbelievable debt. So I made a conscious choice. I cannot and will not compromise the time I am needed right now to deal with my boys' issues at home and at school (and it is daily) to become more informed about candidates. It's just the choice I have to make right now. Right now - when one of my child's issues are over. the. top.

So there. Secret's out. Or was it ever a secret? I feel bad and stupid this morning and just needed to tell why. Because that is what I do.


 
image from Indianapolis Times blog

Alrighty Then!

Okay, I'm back. I just needed some time for introspection and self-pity, and decided not to take it out on you all. You're welcome.

My Own Brand of Idiocy
I do and say some admittedly stupid things. Some out-and-out mind-stoppers. And then I admit them to anyone who will listen because one of my favorite things to do is laugh. Especially at myself. I do not know why I cannot keep these things to myself and pretend that I'm normal like everyone else. I guess it's more important to me to brighten someone else's day with a good guess-what-I-just-did story than to seem like a normal person living an ordinary life.

Just now, sitting here writing this in the family room, I began to grumble internally that it was starting to rain outside - hard. Then I realized that it was my husband upstairs taking a shower. And now I'm telling you.

I am an intelligent person. I have common sense. I have a bachelor's degree in journalism. I was on the dean's list, for crying out loud.

Whatever the reason, it is daily; or as is the new thing to say, "it's how I roll."

The Canine Whisperer. Not.
I work part time at Club Canine, a dog daycare/boarding facility. (Check out our Facebook page, too!) I have to feed my Starbucks habit, and meds and therapy are expensive for this family. I have been one of those crazy dog people since birth, so this was a good fit; plus I get to dress down on purpose, yell at the top of my lungs (30+ dogs can get quite loud), and love on puppies at will - and get paid to do it. There's much more to it than that, of course, but these are the highlights.

Did I mention the puppies? 

Actually, the biggest highlight is that I have a super, awesome boss. She opened this business out of her love for dogs and her canine knowledge and experience are the legs that made it possible. Having a boss who respects you and is grateful for the work you do means almost more than money.

In my former life, I worked in the world of advertising - complete with office politics, bad bosses, undercutting, posturing, clawing to get ahead (and you're crazy if you don't want to do that), unrecognized talent and skills, etc. But in my job now - my tiny, part-time, out-of-left-field job - I am happy. I do not leave mad at the world and wishing to run over the first human I see on the way home. I do not dream of my boss being taken away by a tsunami. I love my boss.

Why? Well, many reasons. But the employee/boss reasons are that she treats us with respect, she is grateful and thanks us for our work, she does not take us for granted, and she works harder than all of her employees combined. 

I highly respect that she works her tail off to make her business a good one for the dogs she is entrusted with. This is not always the right "business" way to go; i.e., her first order of business is caring for a dog and not making a dollar off of that dog. So she's not cut-throat money hungry. She is caring. And if those two cannot coincide peacefully, then I'll struggle right along with her to leave the money-hungry behind.

As my friend and I sometimes say about our special-needs parenting lives when frustrated with making the decision that's best for your child instead of the easy, less difficult, less expensive decision, "There's another jewel in your crown," (referring the the crowns we will wear in heaven for what we're enduring here on earth ...).

We don't always feel the effects we are having on others, especially when everything around us feels like it's falling down and we're about to go with it. But when you're making the right decisions on simple things like how you treat people, the effects are far greater and deeper than dollars in your pocket. Society makes it very difficult to believe and live by, but I've slowly come around to the fact that this simple truth has greater impact than all the money and prestige in the world.

And yes, I absolutely recognize and am grateful that I have the luxury of taking advantage of this because my awesome husband endures what he does to be a good provider for our family; thus, allowing me to work part-time where I am happy as opposed to somewhere I am miserable just for the pay and/or benefits.

Now, that being said, we all need days off.

Fer Shizzle!
I have the next three days off. And I mean off. It is fall break, the younger set is going to Nana and Papa's for some freewheelin' grandkid time starting tomorrow; and I don't work again until Saturday. This is not a drill. I get to sleep past 5:45 a.m., do whatever I want within legal and moral limits, wear clothes that will remain dog-slobber free, and know that when I clean a bathroom - the floor will remain un-peed on until Sunday afternoon.

You KNOW it!

photo by bingbing

Over & Out

Taking a break; don't know when I'll be back.
See you on the flipside.

Dog Lovers, Rejoice!

And be amazed:

Buddy, Heidi and I start at Arthur Murray on Tuesday.

You're welcome.

I Am What I Am, and That's All That I Am.

This morning, I weighed myself and discovered I am down two pounds from a week ago. So I went downstairs and ate two PopTarts. What?

Isn't that so typical? Well, it is of me. My whole existence seems to be an exercise in contradiction, but not on purpose. It's just how it all seems to turn out most of the time. I feel like I live much of my life sideways.

I wanted to be a writer from the time I was around 11 years old, writing "books" with my best friend (pretty funny stuff). So I earned a degree in journalism, and ended up in . . . advertising account management? Then freelancing for publishing companies, then being a stay-at-home parent. It's just been in the last few years that my writing has somewhat been able to hop into the front seat. Well, it's at least on the passenger side. And sleeping for much of the trip. But it's right there, ready to take the driver's seat when the rest of this stuff starts to get tired of driving my life.

I'm also very, very cranky when I'm surrounded by clutter. And my house is t.r.a.s.h.e.d. I have three boys. I have no time. When I do clean it all up, it's trashed again in a couple of hours. Again, I have three boys. And two dogs. So I live in what seems like endless, utterly overwhelming clutter while I'm screaming on the inside about it. Okay, and sometimes on the outside, too.

Hair skeeves me out. And I have long (all the way down my back) hair that I never think to get cut.

I have next to no patience, so I birth three boys. Three boys all with some type of neurological issue going on - ADD, autism, Asperger's, a mood disorder.

I love the beach - and I'm a woman with fair skin and freckles.

I love love love to cook, and two of my kids ate PopTarts for dinner last night after football practices were over. The oldest is smart and made a salad for himself. He is Marine-bound, you know. PopTarts aren't the best choice, Mom ...

Did I mention that I work at a dog daycare and boarding facility? Now this may sound like the biggest contradiction of all. However, it's actually one of the more natural paths I've taken. From the time I could walk and talk and communicate, apparently, I have been a dog lover. My mom loves to tell stories of when I was growing up, how I always had something dog-related going on. I would bring strays home weekly. The small town where I lived once asked my mom if they could use me to bring in a dog they couldn't capture because they knew I could get it. Yes, I had a reputation.

I have a degree in journalism - so I work with dogs. And it makes me incredibly happy.  

I know that God has a purpose here in the path he's taking me down. Surely he does, because it's just too weird of a road to just be random. But random is what makes me happy. If I could do exactly what makes me happy when it's my time of the day, then I would be with the dogs, writing, and doing something creative with my hands (like the custom dog collars I just started making). And that's the truth.

I'm finally at the point after 39 years to say I'm okay with going down the path I think God is clearing for me - even if it seems random and not anything like where I thought I would be. I think it's interesting! I do not feel a bit bad about saying these are the things I do to people who ask about my life.

No, I'm not a senator. I'm not the president of an advertising agency. I'm not an author (yet). I'm not a journalist. I am me. I write when I can, get it published where and when I can. I dress in not-nice clothes to go to work because I'm going to get jumped on and slimed and licked and run into, and I'm going to scoop poop and clean up pee and puke - and love (mostly) every minute of it. I'm going to come home and deal with some sort of sensory issue causing a boy to come undone or scream at another one. I'm going to ask them at the last minute what they want to eat - or call home and have the oldest brother feed the younger two whatever he can find.

This is where we are right now as a family, and this is where I am right now as a person. And that's okay. I've lived a surprisingly lot of life in my short 39 years. Unexpected life issues will do that. It forces you to grow, to learn to live within a realm you weren't ready for, to branch out, to fail, to get back up, and to accept.

Yes accept. It forces you to accept the you that you are being handed at the moment. When you don't, this is where the misery creeps in. This is where the unhappiness, the backward glances, the questioning of your whole life can take you down; and it's much harder to get back up than to stay up in the first place. Believe me, I've had to make the climb and it gets harder each time. And then you're just mad when you realize how much time and effort you just wasted.

Accept where you are. Relish it even. Where you are right now is making you who you will be in 6 months, in a year, in 10 years. If you have a goal to be somewhere else, then use where you are as a great starting point and recognize its' very important role in helping you take that leap in the right direction. Where you are now may be a springboard for the next leg of your journey.

It all may appear to be a random pile of notes, but I assure you - there is a song in there. And if you stop to listen, you will hear it.

Pray for acceptance, for peace, for direction. You will probably find it where you least expect it.

photo by ilco

Dog Day Afternoon!

Carmel's Annual Dog Day Afternoon was much fun! If you are a dog lover, or as we say in our family, "have the dog gene," you would have been in dog heaven.

Lots of activities, fun vendors with cool stuff to say and items for sale and my favorite part - all the different dogs you get to love on!

All. The. Dogs. Danes and pits and goldens and aussies and cairns and labs and shepherds and bulldogs and mutts and and and ... A dog lover's PARADISE.

I was there representing Club Canine, where I work, as well as . . . myself! Well, Joel (my 12-year-old) and myself.

You see, I have started making custom dog collars and collar bandanas to raise funds for Joel to go on his first mission trip. So I had a display in my boss's booth for them today.

Joel came home from church camp in July absolutely on fire to go on our church's mission trip to Kenya. With that not being a good first mission for a pre-teen, our church's "tour director" of world missions (his official title is pastor of care giving) suggested he go to Mexico for his first mission. So the goal has been set.
We need to raise around $1,500 for the two of us to go since he's under age and must go with a parent.

We thought about different things we could do to raise the money, and a friend suggested that we make dog biscuits and sell them. We began to pursue that when this idea came to mind. And that is an incredibly short version of the whole story, but I'm typing this on my Blackberry, so the rest will have to wait until later.

I found out about this event a week ago. S. E. V. E. N. days. Not enough time to do much in the way of having more than a few collars and bandanas to offer, but wanted to get something in the hands of this very concentrated gathering of dog lovers. So I did what I could; and in the interest of time, merely registered a domain name and slapped up a few graphics and pages on the site to let people know that the store is *coming* - and to also explain the cause that makes up part of the name.

What name?

Life is Ruff ~ Collar Casuals for a Cause. We have decided optimistically that once we reach the goal of this mission trip, we will set another goal - someone else to raise funds for. So we will always have some goal we're trying to reach in peddling our wares.

I know. Those of you with web site experience absolutely cringe at me saying that I published a site like that. Please, please forgive me. I need to find someone who knows what they are doing to design it, and I also need someone to do some photography for me to put on it.

Anyone wanna volunteer? Please?

Anyway, I'm so excited at the prospect of raising money for something, for someone else, of creating, of my son going on his first mission trip. I hope it really was God putting this on my heart, and not some bad shrimp I ate giving me heartburn.

Please feel free to visit the pitiful site-to-be and register to be notified when it is up and running. And please pray that we reach our goal and can move on to another and then another. This is the kind of thing that makes my heart leap!

LifeIsRuffCollars.com

Sent via my very awesome BlackBerry

A Different Set of Standards

My 7-year-old is playing his first year of flag football this fall and his first game was this weekend. He tried playing soccer a few years ago, which didn't work out so well. But he tried, and that's all that we ask.

Most of you know Seth was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2.5. He has made amazing strides since then, and for that we are so grateful to God and his hand in this.

When he played soccer, at five, he made it through about a third of the season before we could no longer get him to attend. It was too much, too confusing, too overwhelming. Even team pictures were too much. So when he began begging to play flag football in August once he heard about it at church, we were reluctant. Not reluctant to let him try. Reluctant to pay $80 for him to not be able to handle it after two practices!

Hey, that may sound harsh, but that's the reality.

So far with the practices, he has surprised me a lot. He has not complained once about going; he seems to be engaged while we are there, listening and talking to the coaches, doing what he's told. He tells me he really doesn't understand the plays, but he does what his coach tells him to.

For his first game, though, I wasn't sure how he would handle it. He doesn't handle people in a crowd watching very well. After his first grade spring musical last May, he told me that "everyone was watching me and it makes me feel confused." Everyone clapping made him feel weird, as well.

Another great surprise - he didn't seem to really care about the crowd. It wasn't very big, and was spread out enough among all the fields that I don't think it seemed much different than practice to him.

He ran around doing as much of a play that he could remember, engaged in the game for the most part, and interacted with at least one other player on his team that he is getting to know. I even saw them giving one another thumbs-up signs. That kind of social interaction melts the heart of this mama of a child with autism.

No, he really couldn't follow the game or process what was happening as a whole. No, I don't think he gets what the plays are doing and what the goal is. While other kids on this team of 2nd and 3rd graders were pumped to be playing the game like real football players and getting into the plays, etc., my son was running when the coach would yell, "Go get him, Seth! Go get him, Seth!" because that is how this very awesome man (Noblesville Middle School's very own Troy Leach) figured out very quickly to communicate with Seth from the sideline in a way that he could process, understand, and be a part of the action. He knew to go after the guy with the ball to get his flag.

And of this, I am extremely proud. You see, we have a different set of standards that does not include making touchdowns, being the fastest, handling the ball the most, or making great plays work. Our standards are not lower, just different.

Our goals? Interact with others. Make eye contact. Listen. Understand and learn the value of working together with a team. Engage. Try to process what the coach is telling you. Process and handle appropriately the sensory overload of lots of quick movement, people yelling, fast transitions, strangers all around you.

And this week we added to that sensory overload a dose of pouring down rain the last 10 minutes of the game, which I could tell was starting to send him sideways, but he handled even that well until we got to the car; at which time he came undone all the way home about being wet and cold.

You know what? That's okay, dude. You just spent the last 90 minutes completely taxing your processing, sensory management, and emotions. You pushed yourself to the limit without breaking. You can come unglued with the people who love you the most!

For all of this, I am so thankful to God for leading Seth to this point. Another milestone passed!

You Might Want To Just Skip This.

This is how I feel. And I wish someone would pick me up and soothe me and snuggle me close until I drift off into peace.

Today I have a bad attitude. And this is my blog. I get to bleed all over it if I want to and no one has to read it. I did not come to your door complaining and boohooing. You have just clicked and come to mine. If you don't want to hear it, go.

I am tired of all kinds of things that have built up over time. Just like everyone else. God works on my heart most days and I know how I am called to act and what I am supposed to do. That doesn't mean I always follow it (not by a long shot), but it is there - always - and I try to listen and act.

Today I still know it is there, but am having an extremely hard time following it. How is it that I am supposed to change how I feel? I am not acting on this, just spewing here - in a space that I have created to write about what is on my mind and heart. Because I am me; and most of the time, people appreciate that realness. Probably not so much today.

I am tired of taking it for the team. 
I am tired of teaching and teaching and teaching to a deaf crowd.
I am tired of being taken advantage of.
I am tired of others' attitudes of entitlement.
I am tired of people having no boundaries, or ignoring them if they do have them.
I am tired of having more than "normal" parenting issues to deal with.
I am tired of driving an old van that has four cracks that span the windshield up, down, and all around.
I am tired of driving a van that's been hit several times by others who cannot or will not pay to fix their mistakes (one just drove away without even stopping).

I am tired of being blessed with a nice home only to have it trashed. And if you think I am exaggerating, please knock on my door, walk around, visit the basement. Then ask me, "How old are your kids again?" Old enough to know better; and certainly old enough to take responsibility for it. It is a never-ending vicious cycle that leaves me exhausted and angrier than a junkyard dog.

I am tired of Autism.
I am tired of Asperger's Syndrome.
I am tired of the whole, entire blankety-blank SPECTRUM and every rotten thing that comes with it.
I am tired of irresponsibility.
I am tired of Obama.
I am tired of being asked for money from schools that I already pay an inordinate amount to in the form of actual money, volunteer time, snacks, etc. Hey elementary school, middle school, football team, band - who are all asking for me to donate and ask others to donate in the first three weeks of the school year - I AM TAPPED OUT. And you haven't even sent me a bill for book rental fees yet.

I am tired of paying for meds.
I am tired of paying for therapy.
I am tired of life this side of heaven.

I. Am. Tired.

And yes, I know it could be worse. It could always be worse. But I am also tired of trying to make myself feel better by thinking, "Well, at least my child isn't deathly ill," or "At least this," or "At least that." That is no way to live. There is always going to be someone around the corner worse off than you. I get that.

Right now, like I said, I have a bad attitude. Don't worry. Tomorrow I'll be back at it. Chipper. Happy to be dumped on. Big thumbs up. Go team.Who needs what? Please let me do it.