Moonstruck & Stuck

Random crap that happens to be floating around in my head.


I wish people trusted my judgment when it comes to my kid(s).Or just kept their opinions to themselves. Why on Earth would I say my child has Autism/PDD-NOS if he didn’t? Why would I subject myself, him and his siblings to the endless appointments, counselors, therapists and interventionists? Seriously, that is the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to or about me! I have had it with know-it-alls thinking they know my situation better than I do. Looking from the outside in, it may look like he is just a teenage boy who is trying to spread his wings and I am the horrible ogre mother who will not let him. In reality he is a child whose social skills are limited to none, he can function in small groups of family as long as he knows his boundaries and has an “escape plan” in place, he does and says things recklessly and impulsively and has found himself in dangerous situations because of that, plus a myriad of other unsafe and reckless behaviors he exhibits. Autism is hard to explain, maybe even more so when your kid is higher functioning or doesn’t exhibit behaviors that are commonly known as “Autism behaviors”. People shouldn’t judge, especially when those people are only around him periodically. The reality of the situation is he is mine and I will do whatever I deem appropriate to keep him safe. No one else loses sleep over him, or rides the waves during a meltdown but me, no one else has to deal with the heartache I do daily. So to those with an opinion I say “Suck it!”





One helluva spectacular idea!

Meh! I don’t feel good. I dunno why, but I just don’t. Lethargy, aches and pains, overall blah and blergh simultaneously with the moodiest mood swings ever, it’s like I am feeling all the feels in Feelville. At first I thought shark week was on its way but that fun little app I downloaded on my phone hasn’t interrupted me in the middle of a long text to proclaim, on a background of hearts and flowers even, “X amount of days until the beginning of the end”. Maybe those aren’t the exact words but you get my point.
Speaking of period apps, someone needs to design a more realistic one, not me because I don’t feel good right now, but someone else. This one should play the theme from Jaws as the reminder tone that all hell is going to erupt in your uterus shortly. It should have little bright, colorful pop-ups that remind you to lay in supplies. They would say stuff like: buy massive amounts of chocolate, get ice cream, not the little one clown, the party bucket, test heating pad for optimal heaterization before onset of cramps, stock up on as many bags of potato chips as you can fit in your car trunk and DVR hours upon end of Lifetime movies so you at least have an excuse for your spontaneous outbursts of tears. Yeeesss! This so needs to happen!
It could have little platitudes that pop up during the red reign of terror with sayings like, “you are still beautiful even in old ratty stained sweats and that giant, holey t-shirt an old ex left at your place so many years ago that you cannot remember his name or what he looks like, with your stringy hair piled on the top of your head” or “zits are a sign you are still young and vibrant” , “it’s not you, its them”– ya know positive uplifting shit that makes you feel less stabby. In a perfect world it would tie in to a food delivery app so you can order pizza and burgers and fries from the comfort of your wrapper strewn bed. If I felt better I would totally sit down and play with some code and make this sumabeeyotch a reality but, meh!

If one of you decides to roll with my idea all I ask is you hook me with some Symphony bars, chips and greasy shit that isn’t good for me but is oh, so good every 28 days or so. Deal?


I have lost my laugh

I need to write. I need to clear my head from all the chaos that has been happening around here. I don’t want to write about that just yet, I am still processing it. I thought maybe I would write about my child turning 18 tomorrow and the journey we have taken to get there but, to be honest, I am having mixed feelings about what 18 will mean for her ( and my sweet grandbaby) and I am not ready to address those fears and those feelings right now either.
I need a release, a break from stressing and worrying so I though maybe I would write something funny. As soon as I started typing I realized that I have nothing funny to write about. I think that makes me sadder than any bad day possibly could. Laughter has always been my escape. My very best friend. To think that I cannot find something, anything to laugh at scares the hell out of me.
Can I really be that messed up emotionally (and mentally) that I have lost my best friend? I love laughing. I love that my laugh is obnoxious and loud. I love the feeling that I get when I am lost in laughter. I don’t want to be best friends with tears and depression. I want my friend back and have no idea how to do it.


The understatement of the year

Today sucked giant monkey balls, hot sweaty ones. The meltdown started early and sucked his siblings in like a viciously swirling tornado on its way to Oz. No one was safe from the verbal onslaught of profanity, hate filled curses or wishes of death and destruction. We all got sucked in and couldn’t get out. Eldest started yelling at him, sisters start yelling at eldest, I walk out of the shower to Armageddon so I yelled at everyone. That started a domino effect from all but the youngest (who had locked himself in my room crying) against me. I am this, I don’t do that, I let him get away with this or that and the lists went on, they all just kept reciting all the things they must have been holding in for months and they finally let it come flooding out. And it hurt. Alot. And I lost it. Alot. I couldn’t process all the anger they were lobbing at me like tennis balls over the net at Wimbledon and I broke. I felt like my heart and head shattered into tiny fragments, see all this time I thought I was doing ok. No, we don’t have the latest, greatest gadgets and gizmos and yes, there is a lot of tension in the house with ASD, ADHD, ODD and a slew of other acronyms for a shit-ton of stuff that requires therapists and medication. Mix in all the drama of the teen mom and her ex and it gets crazy around here. But I thought I had them (for the most part) in a good space. I didn’t cry (at first) when they started in, at first I got mad. Really mad. Who the hell do they think they are talking to me like that, yelling at me and throwing their dad in my face? Telling me what he has and we don’t, comparing me to other people and telling me if they had their way they would be anywhere but here.

That was the proverbial straw and I was the camels back. I felt that familiar feeling in the back of my throat, my voice thickened and broke as I spoke and then the flood gates opened and there was no holding back the tears. I spent the rest of the day in my room, staring at nothing, hurt to my core and oh so broken. A couple of them came in and tried to apologize but I shushed them and motioned them out. The little one didn’t know which way to go. Mom was crying and he didn’t know who did it so they are all bad guys in his book.

Day has turned to night and I am still sitting here, in the dark, with a crying hangover and hurt feelings. My feelings are not hurt so much by what they said (partially, but not totally) but rather by the fact that the only outlet I have is here. I can’t call my sister, my best friend, anyone and tell them what happened and why I feel like I do because they doesn’t get it. It is just me, trying to juggle all the stuff thrown at me and not drop anything. And it is hard. And lonely. And thankless. And that sucks.




OMG! A bug flew up my nose! I saw it plotting its course; I swung and missed, so the little bastard just zoomed right on in there. I can’t get it out. I blew, I picked ( IKR?) I screamed in terror, what if this thing burrows into my brain and starts a family? Maybe it is one of those bugs who reproduces all by its self and wants a big family? What if it starts a whole community of nose/brain bugs? Seriously this f*cker needs to get out! I start sneezing, not cute little sneezes, but big manly, spit flying everywhere sneezes. I am alone in my room so I am ok with not covering my mouth (don’t judge me, you have done it too). I try everything and this little effer will not come out! I remember the Neti pot. Salvation! I will drown this sucker!

Sooooooo that didn’t work and I swallowed some bugger water. (Don’t ask) And now I am sneezing again.


Epilogue: Apparently he was not a swimmer. I blew my nose 12 hours later (!!!!!!) and found his little remains on the tissue. Stop acting like you don’t check your tissue too. Really? So, I am the only one that does that huh? Interesting.


Summertime blues or as they are known around my house the “there’s-nothing-to-do’s”

Gawd ,can school start already. Technically I would like a little more time to get the prerequisite new uniforms and supplies out of the way, but would really dig being able to send the little crumb snatchers back to school like yesterday. I cannot keep any food in this joint, NONE. For someone who works hard to stretch an already tight food budget, summer time “I was bored so I ate 4 sandwiches, a pack of tortillas slathered with butter and cinnamon sugar and 2 family sized bags of chips for a snack around 3 but I am totally ready to scarf back thirds on dinner by 6” is KILLING me softly. I have started eating a small bowl of rice midday as my one and only meal in hopes that A. I would lose a few pounds B. We would have food in the fridge longer than the day I shop and the 1 day after that and C. if they saw me foregoing a meal or twenty they would be inclined to follow suit. Jokes on me, they fight over my portion now too. The Eldest wants it because he is older, the teen girls want it because they must have everything of mine just because, the boy needs it because he is a teenager and he is always hungry (read bottomless pit), the youngest son feels like he should get it because he is my baby and the Grand could give 2 shits as long as she has her blueberry bagels and fruit cups to get her through the morning. Explaining once again why I have the most epic Grandkid in history, she will sit there gnawing away on her bagel and watch them go all nutso, crazy, almost to blows over who had more milk in their cereal (true story) and look at them like they are so beneath her, the only time she has a use for them is when the Kindle dies or she runs out of juice in her sippy cup.
Outside of them eating everything in sight they are harshing my mellow with their incessant complaints of boredom. You have cell phones, cable, Hulu, DVD’s, a freaking game console with assorted games, a basketball court and each other – how the eff are you freaking bored? Seriously, if it is serious enough for you to come in my room, flop across my bed and whine for 20 minutes and risk my wrath you deserve the extra chores I am going to give your ass. When did they stop giving kids that ‘How to Handle Your Parents with Kid Gloves’ handbook I had as a kid? Hell I never told my Mom I was bored, if I did I would have had to go bake some bread or chop wood or some shit, she wouldn’t just say, “ Oh ok let me stop what I am doing and cater to your every whim.” Hell no! She would get perverse pleasure out of giving me a job to do and I better act like I was enjoying myself or I would get two more added on. These kids have got the game twisted. (Hey don’t judge my vocab, I have been home with 4 teens for 6 incredibly long weeks) Go find something to do and leave Mom alone , she is trying to figure out how to feed you all on 3 beans, a half a hot dog and 2 raisins.


P.S This is totally not my fridge, this one is clean. Mine is not. Ever.

To medicate or not to medicate , that is the question

So I was off in the wild blue nowhere reading one of the countless mom blogs I follow and there was a blog posted about the mom making the decision to medicate her child with ADD. Most of the comments were from moms like myself who have kiddos with ADD /ADHD and have chosen to medicate, but you know some troll had to jump in and condemn medicating.

I post alot about Autism and where it fits into my world and family, but I also have 2 kids with ADHD and I see the difference choosing to medicate makes. I promise you there has been no truer statement than this one as dude is off his meds today (Thanks Valley Pharmacy for not delivering them AGAIN) and he has jumped, flapped, spun, talked, chatted, sang, sung, rapped and scripted since about 7 a.m. I am out of caffeine and it is getting really touchy around here. It is hot as hell in this house and he is making it worse hopping, skipping, climbing, chiming, rhyming…all that crap. *shaking my fist at the pharmacy*

Can you imagine the amount of cool we could infuse in our kids if, instead of worrying about how Mr and Mrs X are parenting their diffabled kid, we focused all that extra energy into our kids? Seriously if you chose to medicate your kid or even not to medicate your kid I won’t talk crap about you (unless you are an anti-vaccer than I reserve the right to speak my warped mind because duh, diseases )(kidding not kidding) because I just don’t have the energy to care. I am over here trying to raise awesome wrapped in amazing with a side of adderall just to even it all out. BOOM!

P.S If you are my FB friend and read this little thingamajig-yes I did copy it there almost word for word. HEY! I just don’t have it in me to “be” in both place today so suck it.


Writer’s Block or Brain Fog – you decide

I haven’t written in months. I have wanted to, hmmm I would go so far as to say I have needed to, but something has kept me from being able to get the words out. I miss having this release. Things have been really off for me lately, not just with Ferdinand’s regression that always happens right before a big change in his schedule (like summer break) and the little Grand’s paternal unit keeping so much craziness going at all times, but with me, myself. The chronic pain has gone from a 6 or 7 every day up to a strong 15. The weird nerve stuff is freaking me out and these migraines have a sistah wanting to pull her eyeballs out sometimes. Fibro, febro, whatevs, this shi* sucks! I miss taking long walks just because or going to the park and walking the nature trail or just sitting by the pond and enjoying the peacefulness of it all. I miss going up and down my stairs without using the hand rails. I am too young for this mess.



I wish (Profanity)

“I hate you, I wish you would die, I never loved you, Bitch, Fat pig” When I started having children I never imagined that I would hear those words from my child. I realized that I focus on Ferdinand more and his program more than Ali Baba. I realized , tonight , when she hurled those words and a thousand more hurtful ones at me while clenching and unclenching her fists and telling me how much pleasure socking me in my face would give her that I have given up on her. The months of her being gone as a runaway, then them bringing her home and her running the first time I took a shower, the teen pregnancy, the stealing from me and other family to the point she, and so by proxy we, aren’t welcome to visit but 1 person we know, raising her child because her focus is getting her ex back and doing what she wants- all for what? To be told I am nothing, no one? She won’t take her meds, refuses to talk to the therapist, and won’t go to school… What do I do? They won’t 51/50 her, she cannot function on her own so I can’t emancipate her, her Dad won’t take he because she steals from him and his wife so I badger, cajole, beg, fuss, scream, coerce, you name it to try to get her to take her meds, to show her kid some attention more often than just days her Dad will be here to no end.

I would love to be able to sit down and type funny stories of my kids antics and all the memorable moments we share but the reality, well my reality is that my days and nights are filled with either his meltdown or hers. If he isn’t screaming profanity at me she is, if I am not at a Dr.’s for him, I am for her. If there is a therapist in the house it is for one of them. There are 7 people in this house but the issues of these 2 run this place. The other kids can’t have company because you never know when one of them will flip the hell out. I can’t leave and go to work because they will tear the house apart or worse each other if I am not here to be the buffer.

Mental illness is destroying my family and I am completely at a loss on how to fix it. The therapist and psychiatrist’s all tell me I am doing an amazing job but how is that possible when everything is in complete chaos? What the hell is amazing about that? Is it amazing to them that I haven’t pulled all my hair out or I still seem sane? Because I can still find a reason to laugh each day? That isn’t amazing, that is freaking coping. I wish I could yell from the rooftops that the parents and caretakers of these kids suffer right along with them, that we take the brunt of their anger and have to absorb it and keep going, that we have to be strong enough, not just for them but for our children that don’t have these issues. I wish people realized the physical impact it can have, the reoccurring sickness, fatigue and compromised immune system that can occur when you go days with no sleep or food because you have to be on high alert 24/7. I wish there was more that I could do for my kids so they wouldn’t feel the way they do and I wouldn’t feel as if I am failing them. I wish I knew what to do for them. I wish I knew what to do for me.


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