Home to the heart of chaos...

Well, the vacation is over and I am beginning to realize some things.

ONE: I am not cut out for camping trips without showers that last more than 3 days. 6 days of filth, smoke and bugs is just not within my tolerances. Not just me, but my children smelling like used diapers and lakeweed laced with goose poop is enough to drive me nuts.

TWO: The generosity of my in laws in taking my Monkey Man for a week must be balanced with the incredibly difficult recovery of schedules. I am not the most organized person, but keeping Ewan on at least a tentative wake up/mealtimes/bedtime routine is vital, and the in laws are just not interested in attempting to keep him consistent. That it is a challenge is not something I contest, but he is so much happier and easier to be around when he has a decent sleep schedule, even if it does take major effort to get him to bed on time. We really need to work on meals again, too, as his eating habits have slipped again. I am tired of having a six week minimum recovery from vacations.

THREE: I am slipping into major depression again and need to find a therapist again. I get so sick of first visits, though. I hate explaining my history, my present issues, my meds, my family, my kids again to yet another doctor, only to find that I can't work with them, or that the doctor is retiring, moving, or for other reasons won't be around for the long haul. I hate changing medications and going through the withdrawal/side effects/evaluation cycle again and again with little or no gain.

FOUR: I really don't like myself much, and I don't want to pass this to the next generation. I feel like a whiny little brat. I always say I get tired of the screaming and crying, but these days it is coming from ME.

None of this is new. I just can't seem to cope with anything and it is driving me crazy. Crazier. Whatever. I can't seem to recharge, and I don't know what to do about it. My house is an appalling mess, and Monkey's in-home therapy starts on the fourteenth. I am not ready. I don't have two clear areas for him to work in, nor is my kitchen set up for his OT. I want to sit in the closet and scream and cry and have a little meltdown of my own.

I can only hope it passes. I need energy, dammit. I have people counting on me. I have me counting on me. I can't give up, but I really really want to.

The In-Laws and outs of vacation for Monkey

Sent the Monkey off to my husband's parents for a week alone with them before we join him with the Kitten. They have done this several times, with reasonable success. He is generally good with adults, and loves his grandparents dearly. I worry a little of course, but not excessively. They accept his diagnosis, even if they don't fully understand what it means. Hell, I don't either, but we all do our best to help him with the tough bits, and get him where he wants to go. It is also nice to have a break from the constant supervision my little man requires, and the cleanups that my lapses of attention inevitably lead to. I feel vaguely guilty about feeling relief, but mommy guilt is a specialty of mine, so I am used to it. I appreciate that my in-laws are willing and able to take him for these times, and he really enjoys the attention.

There was a call from the SiL (Hubby's sister) soon after Monkey and Gramma were supposed to arrive, with the urgent tone she is so good at, telling us that there was a delay getting off the plane (a door was jammed) and Monkey was, in her words, "freaking out". So Hubby called his mom on her cell. What exactly he was supposed to do was a mystery to me. Maybe he thought he could talk to Monkey on the phone and distract him. At any rate, by the time he called, Monkey had finished his meltdown, and was fine. It turns out he had a relatively minor meltdown because he thought, when they made him sit down and put his belt back on, that they were going to fly back home, and he wouldn't see Granpa. Gramma had called Granpa to let him know there was a delay, he had heard Monkey having his meltdown, and for reasons I just don't understand, he felt the need to call SiL, who felt the need to call us.

This is exactly the worry I have about visits with Hubby's family. His dad can be bitter and manipulative, and often tries to stir up trouble between the siblings and tends to stretch the truth or twist it to accomplish this. SiL takes everything he says and reacts exactly as he expects, in turn she works herself into a frenzy of nerves, then usually calls her mom or Hubby to proceed to work them up into overreacting with them. She succeeds with her mom far too often. I can usually talk Hubby down if she gets him stressed out, but it is wearying to both of us. She doesn't limit this to her father's influence of course, and still stresses over her own kids and life, and passes this to her family, who spin it back and everyone panics or gets angry or whatever else. She believes she has all of the solutions to our problems with Monkey, too, most of which she gets from the internet. This drives Hubby up the wall as he is a special needs teacher with a master's in special education, and works with severe ASD kids every day. He doesn't claim to know the answers, but he has heard most of the alleged cures and treatment, seen most of them tried by the parents of his kids, and is pretty well informed of what is solid and what is bull or snakeoil. She also has plenty of more general parenting advice for us and never hesitates to tell us her concerns over our kids' development. Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that she believes she is helping. I try to be polite and not too dismissive of her when she voices these concerns. And Hubby's family loves Monkey and would never deliberately say or do anything that would hurt or belittle him. I don't know how much he understands or takes in of the drama that is going on around him. My concern is that he will be made to feel less than perfect as a person because he is ASD, and that his delays are somehow his fault. I can live with the frustration that comes with the criticism and oh so helpful advice from his family. I won't tolerate anything that belittles or marginalizes my son. Hubby's dad is a bully. I won't have him bullying my son. SiL is a drama queen. I won't have her making my son feel like he is a tragedy or broken. Hubby's mom is a good person, but is very much an enabler for her family as she tries to keep everyone satisfied.

I don't think I am a perfect parent. Hell, I can only hope to be an adequate parent for my amazing kids. If I need help I ask, and sometimes even take the advice I am given. I worry plenty, and overreact occasionally, but overall, I try to remain calm and focused for my kids. It doesn't always work out, but it really doesn't help to have well meaning (or not) folks fanning the flames of panic and frustration.

I just hope I am not a bad person for hoping he has a few really good meltdowns for Granpa.

It's the good kind of contagious

The sun is shining today. I have been trying to become a little more positive in my outlook, and the sun is a good start. I am trying to distance myself from memories of hurts and mistakes, and hold on to the compliments and happy times. The negative always seems to stand out. One nasty comment can negate a thousand pleasant remarks. I am making an effort to let go of the unpleasant stuff, remind myself that I earned the compliments and kudos as much as the criticisms and reprimands.

I have depression. It is with me all the time, even with medication, the dark cloud in the clear sky. A storm is always looming. I am inclined to self harm and emotional meltdowns. I can't stop the cycle every time. I get into states of suicidal despair. I do my best to fight through, and I have good people around me to help me. I am fortunate in that. I have had people tell me that they can't believe I am depressed, because I seem pretty cheerful. Most of the time I can say that I am cheerful. I work at it. But it is a conscious effort, and I fight with my emotions every day. A single negative comment can send me into a black pit. A bad decision, a minor accident, a clumsy moment, and I can spiral down into misery far too easily.

I have thought a great deal about the why and the how of my thoughts, read a great deal about how to change thought processes, work through emotional overload, how to be less self deprecating, less self destructive, less self critical. This is where I have come to my current philosophy of how to treat others, and how I want to be treated.


I have a strong belief that people are generally good. When I am upset with someone I give them the benefit of a doubt, because everyone has bad days, bad moments, bad decisions, or ignorant reactions. I am not expecting perfection from anyone (except maybe my hubby, and then only when I am feeling especially cranky). I think, though, that the world would be a better place, if people put a bit more effort into their interactions with all other humans.

I like people. I don't mean that in a sarcastic way. I really do like most people. I stuck that qualifier in this time, because I am not a sweet, optimistic, rose coloured glasses type person, and I do admit that there are people I find unpleasant to be around, people whose behaviour I disagree with, whose motivations disturb me greatly. They are the minority, however, and I try not to let them get to me.

It is a cliche to say that everyone has a story that you don't know. They do. I think most of us have got that, but we forget too often that other people have those stories, have those reasons for being less than pleasant. We get wrapped up in our own stories, our own drama, and wonder why people are not being nicer to US. It doesn't always register that give and take is the trick, that you have to care about other people's stories and you will get more sympathy for your own.

So start with being polite. No matter how unpleasant or rude other people are, it really doesn't cost you anything to say the words please, thank you, excuse me, I am sorry, you're welcome. It costs you nothing to hold the door for people, give a wave when someone lets you in in traffic, apologize for bumping into someone or getting in the way, even if it wasn't deliberate. The real trick is to mean it. If you can genuinely express manners and mean it, you win. Even if you don't like what you are given, if it is given with good intention, you can say "thank you" with sincerity. If you can't be sincere, try to fake it well. Nothing disarms a rude, cranky person like someone who responds with manners. That is what being civilized is all about. If you don't think you have to be polite, then you are not a civil person.

Next, be kind. Yeah, most people seem to think you can stop at polite, but that is the bare minimum standard, not the best you can do. Be kind because you need other people to be kind to you, because it makes others think about what they are doing, because you acknowledge their story, and maybe someone will acknowledge yours. If the service person isn't smiling, and you smile at them and offer a "rough day?", they may or may not respond, but maybe they will hold on to that little act of kindness, and just maybe they will find their own smile for the next person having a rough day. Spread the kindness, and it will multiply. Not everyone will pick it up, but it pays you back. It makes the world better, ups the positive energy content, and it feels pretty good, too.

The gold standard from my point of view is to be joyful. That sounds kind of funny and new age-y but it is absolutely the best way to make the world better. Look at our kids. When they are joyful, smiling, genuinely happy, we are happier and feel better. When we do the same, we can spread the joy, and increase the happiness for everyone we come into contact with, and they will be able to do the same.

That is the biggest part of all this, the reciprocal nature of  treating others well. Not everyone will respond positively, but those that do will help make even more people feel better. It spreads. A joyful contagion. Not an original concept, but one that bears repeating, especially when we are having trouble finding our own joy. A kind word from a stranger, a smile to remind us that we can, too, and can make the bleakness that seeps into our lives a little less. This comes down to being all of these things to ourselves, too. I seem to forget sometimes that I need to be polite, kind and joyful to myself, in order to have a supply to start the process with other people. Again, it's a cycle. The more people I use this with, the more who will be inclined to use it with me, the more I will have to give.

So be polite. It costs nothing.
Be kind, and it pays you back.
Be joyful, and we are all richer.

That's it.  So if you are having a good day, make sure you spread it around. If you are having a bad one, here is a little joy from me to give you some comfort. Fighting the good fight, spreading the happy.

Lets play "Brat or Autistic"

Every day is a guessing game. Not a fun, play with your kids, 20 questions type game, but a frustrating, confusing, confounding game of  "is this behaviour Autistic, or bratty?".

I worked with kids many moons ago, but in the challenging, stressful and at times hilarious adventure that is raising my son, I seem to have forgotten what normal looks like. I honestly don't remember how the average, NT, regular kid type 4 year old behaves.

Now I know that regardless of whether a behaviour is deliberately bratty or because of Autism, if it is dangerous, inappropriate, or just plain irritating, we will take steps to try to reduce that behaviour.  The trick is to try to figure out what steps are actually going to be effective to do that. Autistic behaviours don't respond well to punishments that reduce the bratty behaviours. Bratty behaviours need to be addressed as such, because they are behaviours the kid has chosen, not ones that his differently wired brain has forced him into. Also, as parents go, I tend toward the permissive, and indulgent, so he is probably a bit spoiled. That is as much my problem as his, but I still need to know what factors are at work for a specific behaviour.

So, when his iPad runs out of power unexpectedly and he pounds it on the table and screams, is that Autism, or spoiled brat? (Whoever designed the heavy duty cover on this device, I thank them a thousand times)
When he jumps on the couch, throws himself down, over and over until the couch breaks, or he injures someone (usually me) is that Autism, or brat? He does this when there is something especially entertaining on TV.
When he dumps a large container of ice tea mix, a bucket of baby formula and a bin of sugar together on the kitchen floor, then drives his cars through it, is that Autism, or brat? It is sure as heck expensive.
When he throws his juice cup at me if I don't respond quickly enough to his request (verbal or point and grunt, depending on what kind of day he is having) is that Autism, or spoiled brat?
When he breaks down in tears because he has to interrupt what he is doing to go to school, eat dinner or go out somewhere, is that Autism or spoiled brat?
 When he gets off the potty and pees on the floor, is that Autism or spoiled brat?
When he poops in the tub, then smears it on the wall, is that Autism or spoiled brat?
When he refuses to eat anything but watermelon, cheese cut into triangles, and Triscuit snack crackers, is that Autistic, or spoiled brat?

Sometimes it is more obvious than others. Sometimes it seems to be a mix of reasons and explanations. Sometimes I try to figure out what a "normal" 4 year old might do. Or a two year old, for that matter, since that is where a lot of his functioning is at.

We get through, one way or another. I love this kid, no matter what the challenges, and I don't want to do him a disservice by assuming his behaviour is Autistic, or just him, testing boundaries and experimenting with the rules.

I need to learn. I need to figure this out.

But first, I need to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor. Sigh.

How can I miss you if you don't go away?

I am an introvert. Essentially this means I need time by myself to recharge my batteries, and be able to cope with my responsibilities and enjoy being around the people I love. I also suffer from clinical depression. I am on meds, and am mostly stable, provided I take care of myself.
The trouble is I am not taking care of myself. I don't eat very well, and am a bit of a stress eater when it comes to dealing with the day to day stuff. Fat, sugar, salt, and caffeine are my food groups lately, and that really isn't helping me maintain my equilibrium, emotionally speaking. I am overweight, and gaining again after losing a fair bit of the pregnancy weight last year. Sigh. I haven't been getting much exercise, other than chasing the kids around. I don't read for fun as much as I used to, and I haven't been doing my jewelry crafting. My house is a mess, even after hours of cleaning, so I have been getting that apathy derived from the futility of my actions. I have been crying too often, for trivial reasons, and I really hate that.In short, I am in a funk.

I don't want to be a drama queen, nor bring people down by wallowing in my own misery. My family have their own problems and I don't need to add to them. My kids need me, my husband needs me, and I need them. My amazing, challenging, and very high maintenance little boy is running me ragged. My daughter is sweet and growing more curious and adventurous every day. I worry that I don't do enough for my son, that my daughter is showing signs of developmental delay that I am not worrying about enough, or worrying too much about. That I am neglecting one or the other. Or that I don't respect my hubby's needs because I am too focused on the kids, or my own misery.

The trouble is, I also need me. Alone. I am not getting the me time I need to keep steady. I don't know how to remedy this without feeling like a whiny baby, or an antisocial jerk. My husband is more of an extrovert, and is not happy being alone. He knows, at least in theory, that I need that time, but he also has trouble doing anything alone, and I am the person who fulfills that sidekick role most of the time. My children can't be expected to understand my need to get away from everyone, they are really too young to get it, and when I do try to get those times away, my hubby doesn't get that I need him to keep the kids away. He works outside the house, and to him, having the kids around is a treat, so he has told me. I don't know that he understands entirely how tired I get of having to serve the needs of them and him.

How do I carve out a space for taking care of me? All of the books, resource people, even family and friends say I need to take care of myself in order to take care of others. How do I do that without being selfish? How do I find time without depriving my family? It isn't that I don't love them or want to be with them, but it remains an issue that I can't be with people, even the ones I love, all the time without going over the edge. In a few weeks, my son and hubby both will be home for the summer. Then what? Will I get more time, since Daddy will be around more? It doesn't usually work out that way. He has his own plans and priorities, and although he tries to be helpful, a lot of the time he seems to want to schedule me for plans that suit him more than they do me.

So how do I make this time for me that I need? Most of the stuff I want to do with that time is at home. I feel guilty when I wish he would take the kids somewhere by himself, but when I try to lock myself away in the spare room for some crafting, or work in the yard on my gardening, the kids or the hubby always manage to guilt me into coming out to do something for or with them. How do I change this? I seem to have advice for my friends, but I just can't seem to come up with anything for myself.

Okay, done whining for today.

Hello, my name is Carmen and I am an...

This was posted by a well meaning person on my blog yesterday.
" the word atheism may be turning people off......unless u make a point that u are AGAINST IT! "
Okay, I suppose it is as good a time as any to address this. I hate defending myself to people. I don't really do it that often, but I hate being judged and it makes me feel like I am somehow validating the judge's opinion by responding to it. I don't have the greatest self esteem, frankly, and it really bothers me when someone doesn't like me. Silly, of course, not everyone is going to like me, agree with me, or understand me. Still, I want to reply to this one, because it is a topic I have been thinking about a great deal lately.
I feel like I am admitting to a terrible character flaw, or a disgusting personal habit. I know there are people who will decide I am not worth talking to because of this, and people who will try and save me from myself, or advise me to keep it under wraps, because all of these reactions have occurred in the past. But enough. Let me just come out and say it.
I am an atheist.
Yep, I freely and of my own will admit that I do not believe in a god (or goddess). I am not agnostic, because I have pondered, reasoned and decided that I do not believe there is or was a creator, or that there is or was anyone directing human lives or civilization other than the other humans involved.
That being said, I am not a rabid anti-theist. I believe that all people have the right to worship, believe, and take comfort in their personal belief systems. I respect that people will speak of their religious beliefs and affiliations.
I take exception, however, to those who use their beliefs to pass judgement on me. I also have little tolerance for those who insist on promoting their faith as the one true way, and who denigrate those who believe otherwise.
I am not amoral, nor do I think that anarchy is the way to go. I believe in human beings as generally good people, with some blind spots and  problems, but basically good. I base my moral code on the concept of creating as much comfort and joy in the world and as little suffering and anger as possible. I also believe in treating most people as individuals with needs as valid and important as my own. I  I believe that all human lives are valuable and that everyone matters and has a place in the world that is important, no matter what their abilities, potential, religion or worldview, including those I don't understand or necessarily agree with. I think that those who use their beliefs to try to bully or abuse others into agreeing are wrong. I believe that those who hurt or subjugate others in the name of their beliefs, or doing what they are told and not thinking about what is right, are dead wrong. I don't say that they are worthless or stupid, I say they are careless, lazy, and often willfully ignorant.
I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, and in treating everyone well, for no other reason than that it is no more difficult than mistrust and selfishness and that when you treat others as you want everyone to be treated (including yourself and those you love) you make the world a better place to live in. Because everyone is connected, every living thing is connected, and you never know how your actions will affect others. So I do what good I can. I take joy in what I can. I try not to let bad stuff make me miserable or bitter. I don't always succeed, and no one is perfect, but I do try.
If people feel they are morally obligated by their religious beliefs to tell me I am wrong and to unfriend, unfollow, or ignore me, I respect their right to do so. I am not going to get into debates about this, and I am not going to change my mind, be saved, or any of the other euphemisms for religious devotions. I am happy as I am, and I don't believe that my stance is harmful to anyone. Be at peace. I do not profess what I believe in order to offend or insult others, but I am not going to pretend I believe otherwise to appease others.

A Valuable Life

Tough day for my hubby yesterday. He teaches low functioning autistic children at the elementary school level, kids with tons of co-morbid conditions and intellectual disabilities. Well, one of the children passed away during a seizure Monday night. The teachers and aides were all affected. He had to call the parents of the other children to let them know what happened, as most of the kids he works with are non-verbal and wouldn't be able to tell their parents why they were upset. And they were upset. Even those who didn't understand or know what had happened were reacting to the grief and upset of the staff.
I appreciate that the parents and others get some comfort by believing that he is in a better place, in heaven, or whatever afterlife they believe is appropriate. I don't believe that. Being an atheist, I don't believe in an afterlife. When someone dies, they are not in a better place. They are dead. Whatever made them a person is gone.
That said, I also believe that this little boy is still with us. Every person he touched, every contact, every smile, every high five (and he loved to give high fives), will carry him with them. He was an individual, an amazing human being, and he will be remembered.
That, to me, is eternal life. No matter what, no matter how short, or limited, or difficult a life is, it matters. We are connected to every other life on Earth. We all have that intrinsic value, every life, every person, everyone makes an impact. That whole "Six degrees of separation" concept is true in that every person who is connected to even one other human being is connected to all of us.
This little boy is gone, and that is a shame, and he will be missed. But he will live in memories, and in the actions of every person who remembers him, and in the impact that they have on everyone who knows them. He mattered. Nonverbal, severely disabled, limited, he still mattered. His life was worth living, and worth having.