Then I Went Off To Fight Some Battle That I'd Invented Inside My Head

I have a very idyllic idea of what life is supposed to be like. This is because I don't live in anything like a normal reality. I think the more crazy Autism makes our lives, the more my brain retreats into the notion that "things should be PERFECT". I ignore huge sections of crazy and insist other things be like a story book.

Take fighting for instance.

My oldest and my youngest child fight and fuss with one another ALL THE TIME. I'm constantly yelling at my son because he's the oldest and therefore IT IS ALL HIS FAULT. It isn't though. The girl, she baits him, she aggravates him until he responds. They are seven years apart and I'm pretty sure that all those parenting books say if your kids are 3 or more years apart this will decrease your fighting. How the hell much will they fight if they are closer together.

My brother and I are ten years apart. I can remember once, being home from college, and my brother and I are locked in wrestling across our living room floor - probably trying to lick one another's faces which was de rigeur at the time, and as we rolled and shrieked my mother came in with a dishtowel in her hand and muttered "You'd think having you two ten years apart I wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense."

We didn't ever FIGHT per se (that shit would not have been allowed) but we did fuss at each other. He tore up some of my stuff when he was little, the way little kids do. I terrorized him with a stuffed animal that I then set in front of my door to keep him away.

I fully remember doing that to him, yet loving him fiercely.  I loved him even after he helped me feed the fishies and dumped a whole bottle of fish food in the tank - killing everything. I loved him even though he took my COLLECTORS CLASSIC STAR TREK DOLLS and cut them up and put them inside the REPAIRED AND REFILLED fish tank in funny positions. They were in mint condition. And then, they were not.

I loved him when he put rubber snakes in my bed at night. That's how I knew he loved ME.

So I try to keep this in mind, as my oldest and youngest fight for territory, for attention, for who is funnier, who is louder, or whose farts are smelliest. She loves him FIERCELY, and he loves her.

They seem to find it funny, however, when their bickering and fighting tips me over the edge. My son has informed me that I "Go all Palpatine" on them.

I am just sad I can't shoot lightning out of my hands. I feel like that would get their attention more than my yelling.
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Then I Went Off To Fight Some Battle That I'd Invented Inside My Head

I have a very idyllic idea of what life is supposed to be like. This is because I don't live in anything like a normal reality. I think the more crazy Autism makes our lives, the more my brain retreats into the notion that "things should be PERFECT". I ignore huge sections of crazy and insist other things be like a story book.

Take fighting for instance.

My oldest and my youngest child fight and fuss with one another ALL THE TIME. I'm constantly yelling at my son because he's the oldest and therefore IT IS ALL HIS FAULT. It isn't though. The girl, she baits him, she aggravates him until he responds. They are seven years apart and I'm pretty sure that all those parenting books say if your kids are 3 or more years apart this will decrease your fighting. How the hell much will they fight if they are closer together.

My brother and I are ten years apart. I can remember once, being home from college, and my brother and I are locked in wrestling across our living room floor - probably trying to lick one another's faces which was de rigeur at the time, and as we rolled and shrieked my mother came in with a dishtowel in her hand and muttered "You'd think having you two ten years apart I wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense."

We didn't ever FIGHT per se (that shit would not have been allowed) but we did fuss at each other. He tore up some of my stuff when he was little, the way little kids do. I terrorized him with a stuffed animal that I then set in front of my door to keep him away.

I fully remember doing that to him, yet loving him fiercely.  I loved him even after he helped me feed the fishies and dumped a whole bottle of fish food in the tank - killing everything. I loved him even though he took my COLLECTORS CLASSIC STAR TREK DOLLS and cut them up and put them inside the REPAIRED AND REFILLED fish tank in funny positions. They were in mint condition. And then, they were not.

I loved him when he put rubber snakes in my bed at night. That's how I knew he loved ME.

So I try to keep this in mind, as my oldest and youngest fight for territory, for attention, for who is funnier, who is louder, or whose farts are smelliest. She loves him FIERCELY, and he loves her.

They seem to find it funny, however, when their bickering and fighting tips me over the edge. My son has informed me that I "Go all Palpatine" on them.

I am just sad I can't shoot lightning out of my hands. I feel like that would get their attention more than my yelling.
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Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot

When I was a kid, my dad was a teacher. Ok he was a teacher when I wasn't a kid too. What that means, when your dad is a teacher is that your family is BROKE. Teachers don't make crap for salary and they used to make LESS.  My dad was forever doing "a second job" to help us get by, usually something not discussed in polite company but not always. He ended up writing bail bonds as his long term second job, just to help us be able to eat.

He used to go on about how he could have a job where he made a LOT more money, but he'd have to travel. He'd NEVER be home. NEVER. He'd be on the road. Sure, we'd have a nice house that actually had insulation for the winter (ours didn't), and we'd have THINGS but he wouldn't ever BE there. And of course he'd never do that to us.

Funny thing, though - he wasn't ever home. He got up around 6 am and went to work. After work he went to bars etc to hand out business cards and get more work. We were home without him, with my mom clipping coupons and eventually starting her OWN business so SHE could make ends meet.

Families are made of people but they require money to function. That's just the cold hard truth. I guess that's why, despite missing them all so much, I don't mind leaving my family for work for 3 days or so every few weeks. Because I'm not gone constantly and long term this is good for us.

This may be my new favorite seat in the house, by the way - SO SO SO CLOSE to the good life. SO close.

I love the professional challenges I've been given, they make me feel valued - and I feel like I'm positively contributing. I'm building something good.

For my family though, I regret that I'm not sharing everything with them when I travel. That's the part I do regret. I want to show them everything I'm seeing and feeling. Except maybe the airplane that was leaking all over me.

You know you're on a commuter flight when the flight attendants just hand out napkins without a word and everyone goes to work stuffing the gaps so the rain stops inside the plane. It's just condensation but it's annoying.

This stop was Toronto, the amazing city by the lake. I still can't get over how massive it is. Every time I go I just think about how some day I'm going to get my family up here to show them this place. I guess I want them to be as amazed as I am.

Arrive Weds, return Fri - everyone no worse for the wear except for my poor husbands frayed nerves from my kids driving him nuts for three days. I think it will be better when school starts and they aren't HERE all day.

I wish my dad had taken that job, the one where he was never home. He was never home anyway, and maybe our whole lives would've been different. Not just because of the money, but because of the life choices he ended up making - because of where he is now due to them. I'm glad I said yes and made this choice for me and for my family.

It's going to work out great for all of us. We just have to hit our groove with this mom travelling thing.

We'll get there.
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Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot

When I was a kid, my dad was a teacher. Ok he was a teacher when I wasn't a kid too. What that means, when your dad is a teacher is that your family is BROKE. Teachers don't make crap for salary and they used to make LESS.  My dad was forever doing "a second job" to help us get by, usually something not discussed in polite company but not always. He ended up writing bail bonds as his long term second job, just to help us be able to eat.

He used to go on about how he could have a job where he made a LOT more money, but he'd have to travel. He'd NEVER be home. NEVER. He'd be on the road. Sure, we'd have a nice house that actually had insulation for the winter (ours didn't), and we'd have THINGS but he wouldn't ever BE there. And of course he'd never do that to us.

Funny thing, though - he wasn't ever home. He got up around 6 am and went to work. After work he went to bars etc to hand out business cards and get more work. We were home without him, with my mom clipping coupons and eventually starting her OWN business so SHE could make ends meet.

Families are made of people but they require money to function. That's just the cold hard truth. I guess that's why, despite missing them all so much, I don't mind leaving my family for work for 3 days or so every few weeks. Because I'm not gone constantly and long term this is good for us.

This may be my new favorite seat in the house, by the way - SO SO SO CLOSE to the good life. SO close.

I love the professional challenges I've been given, they make me feel valued - and I feel like I'm positively contributing. I'm building something good.

For my family though, I regret that I'm not sharing everything with them when I travel. That's the part I do regret. I want to show them everything I'm seeing and feeling. Except maybe the airplane that was leaking all over me.

You know you're on a commuter flight when the flight attendants just hand out napkins without a word and everyone goes to work stuffing the gaps so the rain stops inside the plane. It's just condensation but it's annoying.

This stop was Toronto, the amazing city by the lake. I still can't get over how massive it is. Every time I go I just think about how some day I'm going to get my family up here to show them this place. I guess I want them to be as amazed as I am.

Arrive Weds, return Fri - everyone no worse for the wear except for my poor husbands frayed nerves from my kids driving him nuts for three days. I think it will be better when school starts and they aren't HERE all day.

I wish my dad had taken that job, the one where he was never home. He was never home anyway, and maybe our whole lives would've been different. Not just because of the money, but because of the life choices he ended up making - because of where he is now due to them. I'm glad I said yes and made this choice for me and for my family.

It's going to work out great for all of us. We just have to hit our groove with this mom travelling thing.

We'll get there.
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The Book of My Life

I was giving the twins a scrub down, with my too big shorts on, and my grubby work tee shirt that I live in when I'm not at work (irony?) and I looked at my slightly sweaty, pony tailed self and I realized - omg, my FACE.

My face is different.

I've been through this before. I lost a bunch of weight on Weight Watchers after I had the twins, and I remember the feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger. So I'm there, but I realize that it's been happening slowly and I only just realized it. Maybe I didn't quite GET how big I had gotten or just how I looked, or maybe I did and that's why I've hated my appearance for so long. But today when I looked at my face, I saw lines, bones, smooth skin, definition. A face that is lopsided in it's own way (it's my opinion that my face is one half one parent and one half the other parent).

But, I look pretty good...

I'm not used to saying that.

I pulled up a pic from three years ago to compare - YEAH I LOVE THIS BATHROOM PIC I TOOK USING FOR EVERYTHING NOW SORRY. NOT SORRY.

But it showed me that I'm not crazy, my face is smaller. (yes i know the pics have diff perspective shut up you see what I mean)

I'm also wearing around size 24 shorts that I can't keep up, they're perpetually sliding down my hips, that's probably also a hint that I'm vanishing. It's weird that I can't seem to perceive that in the clothes, it's my face where I see it suddenly. Maybe my body was just so big to start with it's going to take longer before it looks "different" to me. It doesn't bother me to say that, shit had gotten OUT OF HAND.

I've got a lot of reasons to change my life. First of all I've got two little boys who need me to be alive as long as I possibly can, and that is going to require me to be HEALTHY. If I dropped dead tomorrow Louis and Julia would be sad, but they are both smart strong kids - they'd be ok. But as a special needs mom, I feel an obligation to walk the earth and take care of my special little guys as long as I can - to be here FOR THEM. I couldn't walk up the stairs at work. I'd say arthritis was the cause, but folks, I STILL HAVE ARTHRITIS and I can run up those suckers now. My parents own bad health of late is another motivator. We aren't healthy people. I'm 46, it's not too late for me to stave off health issues that I see both of them battling.

Even my dad's dementia can be linked to his arterial decline which is directly related to his diet.

I'm not on a diet. I'm not on a health kick. I'm not into a fad.

I'm changing my life. I'm changing who I am, biologically speaking. I might never make my goal weight but I actually think I will. In fact, I can't imagine I won't make it. Losing weight isn't brain surgery. Change your habits, and work out.

Now, if only that were SO EASY.

I'll get there slowly but I'd like another 46 years if possible.

I won't ever be perfect, because the perfect in my head doesn't exist. But it was kind of weird today to look in the mirror and think man, I kind of look ok. In fact, I look kind of good. I'm not used to feeling that way at all.

75 pounds to go.
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The Book of My Life

I was giving the twins a scrub down, with my too big shorts on, and my grubby work tee shirt that I live in when I'm not at work (irony?) and I looked at my slightly sweaty, pony tailed self and I realized - omg, my FACE.

My face is different.

I've been through this before. I lost a bunch of weight on Weight Watchers after I had the twins, and I remember the feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger. So I'm there, but I realize that it's been happening slowly and I only just realized it. Maybe I didn't quite GET how big I had gotten or just how I looked, or maybe I did and that's why I've hated my appearance for so long. But today when I looked at my face, I saw lines, bones, smooth skin, definition. A face that is lopsided in it's own way (it's my opinion that my face is one half one parent and one half the other parent).

But, I look pretty good...

I'm not used to saying that.

I pulled up a pic from three years ago to compare - YEAH I LOVE THIS BATHROOM PIC I TOOK USING FOR EVERYTHING NOW SORRY. NOT SORRY.

But it showed me that I'm not crazy, my face is smaller. (yes i know the pics have diff perspective shut up you see what I mean)

I'm also wearing around size 24 shorts that I can't keep up, they're perpetually sliding down my hips, that's probably also a hint that I'm vanishing. It's weird that I can't seem to perceive that in the clothes, it's my face where I see it suddenly. Maybe my body was just so big to start with it's going to take longer before it looks "different" to me. It doesn't bother me to say that, shit had gotten OUT OF HAND.

I've got a lot of reasons to change my life. First of all I've got two little boys who need me to be alive as long as I possibly can, and that is going to require me to be HEALTHY. If I dropped dead tomorrow Louis and Julia would be sad, but they are both smart strong kids - they'd be ok. But as a special needs mom, I feel an obligation to walk the earth and take care of my special little guys as long as I can - to be here FOR THEM. I couldn't walk up the stairs at work. I'd say arthritis was the cause, but folks, I STILL HAVE ARTHRITIS and I can run up those suckers now. My parents own bad health of late is another motivator. We aren't healthy people. I'm 46, it's not too late for me to stave off health issues that I see both of them battling.

Even my dad's dementia can be linked to his arterial decline which is directly related to his diet.

I'm not on a diet. I'm not on a health kick. I'm not into a fad.

I'm changing my life. I'm changing who I am, biologically speaking. I might never make my goal weight but I actually think I will. In fact, I can't imagine I won't make it. Losing weight isn't brain surgery. Change your habits, and work out.

Now, if only that were SO EASY.

I'll get there slowly but I'd like another 46 years if possible.

I won't ever be perfect, because the perfect in my head doesn't exist. But it was kind of weird today to look in the mirror and think man, I kind of look ok. In fact, I look kind of good. I'm not used to feeling that way at all.

75 pounds to go.
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The Afternoon Has Gently Passed Me By

Our pool has become the respite from the anxiety/stress/tantrums that Autism seems to be visiting on us more often than not.  Swimming is a "preferred activity" as they say and even though we have small bouts of unhappy they tend to come and go quickly as redirection is easy in a playground full of water.

Miles loves to be up ON things, riding around. Maybe he's playing that he's the king. I'm not sure but he loves it, and will ask for it. The manta ray has been a big hit this summer.

Maybe sometimes you just need to lay around in the pool and BE. We spent a couple of hours and alternated between playing and just all six of us floating around, staring up at the trees, and realizing how lucky we are to have a pool at all.

It had been my secret motherly hope that being in the pool for a couple of hours or more would tire them out. We've reached that point in the summer where no one finds it necessary to go to sleep. At about 1 am last night I realized I had not achieved my goal.

There is only one cure for this level of sleep schedule nutfuckery, and that's SCHOOL. It's coming, in two weeks we'll cart these little boogers off to the big yellow bus and they'll be hating life for a few days but HEY Mommy and Daddy will get some damn sleep finally.

But until then we'll keep doing the summer things until the days are gone. I wish I had the means to heat this pool, because it's so amazing for the twins (hell for us too). But I'm glad for the days we get in it.

I chose this as my grilling accoutrement and I am glad to report that it didn't kill my stomach WHICH is some sort of damned miracle.

Swimming pool, grilling out, having a beer, this was almost a normal Saturday.

What a rare treat around these parts.
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The Afternoon Has Gently Passed Me By

Our pool has become the respite from the anxiety/stress/tantrums that Autism seems to be visiting on us more often than not.  Swimming is a "preferred activity" as they say and even though we have small bouts of unhappy they tend to come and go quickly as redirection is easy in a playground full of water.

Miles loves to be up ON things, riding around. Maybe he's playing that he's the king. I'm not sure but he loves it, and will ask for it. The manta ray has been a big hit this summer.

Maybe sometimes you just need to lay around in the pool and BE. We spent a couple of hours and alternated between playing and just all six of us floating around, staring up at the trees, and realizing how lucky we are to have a pool at all.

It had been my secret motherly hope that being in the pool for a couple of hours or more would tire them out. We've reached that point in the summer where no one finds it necessary to go to sleep. At about 1 am last night I realized I had not achieved my goal.

There is only one cure for this level of sleep schedule nutfuckery, and that's SCHOOL. It's coming, in two weeks we'll cart these little boogers off to the big yellow bus and they'll be hating life for a few days but HEY Mommy and Daddy will get some damn sleep finally.

But until then we'll keep doing the summer things until the days are gone. I wish I had the means to heat this pool, because it's so amazing for the twins (hell for us too). But I'm glad for the days we get in it.

I chose this as my grilling accoutrement and I am glad to report that it didn't kill my stomach WHICH is some sort of damned miracle.

Swimming pool, grilling out, having a beer, this was almost a normal Saturday.

What a rare treat around these parts.
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Devil And the Deep Blue Sea Behind Me

My mom isn't well. That isn't a secret. I don't write about it here very much because I don't want her to read it and worry about me worrying about her.

My mom is dying. She has liver failure, and her kidneys aren't working working right either. She's been in the hospital, and out, and in and out. She's officially moved in with my brother and his family and after only a few days of being there she had to return back to the hospital.

She and I had one very short conversation about her death when I was home last year. She told me exactly what she wants. She wants balloons and not flowers. She wants us to all sing along with Norman Greenbaum's SPIRIT IN THE SKY. She wants us to sing loudly and in celebration. She would like a song from Job's Daughter's that has slipped my mind, and now I realize that I'm faced with either sorting through their online info to find that damn song or asking my mother "What was that song you wanted us to sing when you die?"

I hope it's Nearer My God To Thee. I know that one. Onward Christian Soldiers seems too, something. I don't know. Not funeral-y.

My mom is trying to live, however. She's exploring transplant which wasn't something she was willing to talk about last year. Last year she wasn't quite sick enough for it anyway and now it seems she's been flung into very, very sick. Her heart has to be strong enough, they have to sort out the kidney thing.

She told me today that they told her she's failing, and dialysis is going to have to happen which seems intuitive to me. I told her that she'll probably feel better with it and mentally I think that's probably true. Maybe not. Maybe she'll feel like shit. I don't know. I've never had dialysis. I am not close to anyone who has, so I have no frame of reference.

My Dad has an infection, slurred speech and is very ill. He also seems rather depressed. He's got dementia though so who could tell what is real and what isn't. He's in a nursing home for the rest of his days, most of which haven't been very good lately.

Mom informed me today that Dad is depressed because he's going to hell. I have to admit, I had to laugh. She was pretty certain of it, and that he made his decisions and now he's "got to pay the piper".  I can't much argue, my dad spent a lot of his adult life being a real bastard. In fairness, he never had any sort of decent role model, no one to show him right from wrong or even how to love someone. The fact that he even grew up to be an adult is an amazing thing. The fact that he graduated from college is a bigger one.

I don't believe in hell. So I don't think my dad is going there. But my mom does, and it makes her sad.

He made her sad so many damn times in my life - and now he's gonna go to hell and that makes her sad too. Good grief relationships are difficult. You'd think if someone annoyed you that much you wouldn't WANT to spend eternity with them but no, see she actually loves the big idiot. Even 46 years later after all the crazy that has been their life.

There is this great quote from the movie I LOVE YOU TO DEATH, talking about her dead husband the grandmother says "I miss him so much, I forget everything I hated about him."

I think about that quote all the time lately. I don't forget everything I hated about him, but I forgive them.  I think maybe she does too.
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Devil And the Deep Blue Sea Behind Me

My mom isn't well. That isn't a secret. I don't write about it here very much because I don't want her to read it and worry about me worrying about her.

My mom is dying. She has liver failure, and her kidneys aren't working working right either. She's been in the hospital, and out, and in and out. She's officially moved in with my brother and his family and after only a few days of being there she had to return back to the hospital.

She and I had one very short conversation about her death when I was home last year. She told me exactly what she wants. She wants balloons and not flowers. She wants us to all sing along with Norman Greenbaum's SPIRIT IN THE SKY. She wants us to sing loudly and in celebration. She would like a song from Job's Daughter's that has slipped my mind, and now I realize that I'm faced with either sorting through their online info to find that damn song or asking my mother "What was that song you wanted us to sing when you die?"

I hope it's Nearer My God To Thee. I know that one. Onward Christian Soldiers seems too, something. I don't know. Not funeral-y.

My mom is trying to live, however. She's exploring transplant which wasn't something she was willing to talk about last year. Last year she wasn't quite sick enough for it anyway and now it seems she's been flung into very, very sick. Her heart has to be strong enough, they have to sort out the kidney thing.

She told me today that they told her she's failing, and dialysis is going to have to happen which seems intuitive to me. I told her that she'll probably feel better with it and mentally I think that's probably true. Maybe not. Maybe she'll feel like shit. I don't know. I've never had dialysis. I am not close to anyone who has, so I have no frame of reference.

My Dad has an infection, slurred speech and is very ill. He also seems rather depressed. He's got dementia though so who could tell what is real and what isn't. He's in a nursing home for the rest of his days, most of which haven't been very good lately.

Mom informed me today that Dad is depressed because he's going to hell. I have to admit, I had to laugh. She was pretty certain of it, and that he made his decisions and now he's "got to pay the piper".  I can't much argue, my dad spent a lot of his adult life being a real bastard. In fairness, he never had any sort of decent role model, no one to show him right from wrong or even how to love someone. The fact that he even grew up to be an adult is an amazing thing. The fact that he graduated from college is a bigger one.

I don't believe in hell. So I don't think my dad is going there. But my mom does, and it makes her sad.

He made her sad so many damn times in my life - and now he's gonna go to hell and that makes her sad too. Good grief relationships are difficult. You'd think if someone annoyed you that much you wouldn't WANT to spend eternity with them but no, see she actually loves the big idiot. Even 46 years later after all the crazy that has been their life.

There is this great quote from the movie I LOVE YOU TO DEATH, talking about her dead husband the grandmother says "I miss him so much, I forget everything I hated about him."

I think about that quote all the time lately. I don't forget everything I hated about him, but I forgive them.  I think maybe she does too.
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