Wednesday, December 26, 2012

old ladies write checks

I am so aware of my old lady- like qualities that I have been blessed with since I was a child, oddly enough. yeah, I am THAT thirty- six year old who can' t wait to snuggle up with a gazillion cats, a glass of wine, and a Diane Keaton movie. come to think of it, I' 've always loved Diane Keaton, JACK Nicholson, Shirley MacLain,The Golden Girls...
I write checks. with purple gel glitter pens.
I love that I am always somewhere between a child an a senior citizen! being a mother is a satisfaction and the perfect way to blend my personalities.
if you know me, you know I cry. crying is how I grieve, celebrate, love, and even rage.
there is so much inside of my heart and head...I want to share it all.

Friday, December 7, 2012

mommy is tired and cranky.

noah, aren't you asleep yet? man! i hate that you've had to spend all day cooped up somewhere. because i get you home, both of you, and you two scream at each other and cry and hit and kick and act all crazy-like because you are pent-up and tired and hungry. i can't wait for this change to come. so i can be here with you and not have to rely on others to watch you.
noah, you went to sleep in your own bed last night. it was so easy! i put the Christmas tree in there with the blue lights. and bribed you with a quarter. you were out like THAT! tonight you were so wound up and crazy, you came in to my room and FINALLY just now at 10:00 fell asleep. 10! i can't handle it. i'm carrying you to your bed, mister. 'cause, damn, i slept pretty dang well last night all by myself in this big bed.

i might go make me a delicious mimosa now. if i don't nod off typing this...

dear emma,

i've recognized your sensory issues since you were a baby. i know your "sensory cravings." but still i wasn't expecting to walk in your room the other evening at BEDTIME, to find your body covered in black, GLITTERY, nail polish. oh, sigh. i was a little mad. but i found it slightly humorous too. but, what a mess! i acetoned your face and hands...then realized that is somewhat torturous and stopped. so most of the polish remained on your arms, legs, feet, and torso. your panties were ruined. your rug has spots on it. and your baby doll will never be the same. you told me that today at school, in the bathroom, you scraped the rest of the polish off your legs. maybe i should've emailed your teacher so she would've know what was going on. oh, my emma. <3

if you're reading this thinking that if that was your child you would've beat them or something like that, i would say to you, "fuck off." because you don't have a child with autism. age is no matter. yes, she's 8 and doing something you might find a toddler doing. but i know WHY she was doing it. it felt GOOD to her. maybe it was the coolness of the paint, maybe the brush strokes were soothing, maybe it looked pretty.

i need a new water heater. a nice, shiny ELECTRIC one, so that i can worry a little less. is there a water heater fairy? because it's going to be a few months before i can afford one. please hold out until then, old crappy gas water heater. i don't like you.