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Tuesday, December 9, 2014

When life gets real low, it's still going to be ok if you stay awesome.

  So many unhappy people filling their baskets with expensive shit they have to have. Watching those types shop where I work makes it all the more important for me not to let the season of consumerism get me down this year. I normally hold my head really high and refuse to admit defeat. But, I am going to admit she is winning. Voldemort has crushed the gift giving part Christmas for the Felti house. It is official. But I am not going to let greed win or even matter. I still have the feeling of love that the holidays give. I am spending my time doing good for others instead of having that Gimme Gimme attitude that can just invade your soul during the shopping red tag everything madness. And I know I have instilled that in Hallie. When she and I sit and look at what we can make for our family, friends and teachers, my heart is full. No one really needs a 900$ kayak. Wants and needs are so super important to set right with our kids these days.

  It's all ok. All of it. I have no hate in my being today even as I write this. I have pity but not hate. I gave myself the gift of letting go last Christmas and this has been a year of focus on good things. I have more to be grateful for than I do to be sorry for. Because all the golden goblets in the world can't bring back moments missed, or love not shared or peace and calm family time. Those are the things Christmas means to me. I can watch Aidan or Hallies eyes light up just the same when the open my expertly wrapped Pinterest fail. It just doesn't matter. And even as I wonder if the Grinch's heart will grow three sizes when she sees what Hal made for her, I still encourage Hal to make it. Because she asked and I would never say no. Even if it lands in the trash like years past at least both the girl and I know what is right in the world.

 My crisp honesty here lacks details because they aren't worth dwelling on anymore. We will be ok. Anyone who has been thinking of us or worrying,  just know we will be ok. I promise. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and life keeps moving. Even when I write about stress and real life please don't feel sorry for me. I especially am ok. I'm awesome. I mean that. My heart is full and damnit I have the most beautiful ability to just go and do. It will all be ok. All of it.

  This really is the season of miracles. Not even because we want them so badly. Good things really truly do happen to good people. I believe that more now than I ever have.

P.s. You are awesome too.

I will leave you with the cutest thing ever. I feel like Groot is my spirit animal.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha -changes

  This morning I cracked open the laptop for the first time in god knows how long. This old beast has been crashing on me lately so I choose my time spent interwebbing wisely if I need anything without mobile ease or accessibility. While I can do a nice long blog entry via voice text on the apple contraption, this feels like blogging. Also, I am currently here in my sweet new space called the Mom Den. A redecorating project of love and joy and also sadness because it was the room my sister lived in for the last few years ( since we bought the house ) and I miss her something fierce. She didn't die, she moved to Nashville which is exactly 1,976 miles away. This room had to change immediately because a cold empty void probably would have depressed me to no end and Aidan would have been a wreck. Thus, the Mom Den was born out of so many needs. One being my own zone which I truly feel is important to a Mom. We can't even pee without company. So any area of escape if possible just for a few moments of silence and alone time is like the most cherished treasure. Not even joking. Moms you feel me right?

 So, I opened up my social world this morning and saw three different messages that caught me one after the other and sent me into a full blown ugly cry of overwhelming love and appreciation. I do not cry. But the words from these few, perhaps even in the order I read them, touched me so deeply I had the lump in my throat and the hot tears flooding my face. I am always a bit proud when it comes to my kids. And Aidan especially because of all his issues and um.......facets? He is multifaceted. Let's put it that way. But a fellow Mom from the trenches of special needs parenting was one of these voices and she full on fucking gets me. I send her all the internet high fives today because she has dealt with her grab bag of bullshit mixed with joy for 20 years!! I applaud that because Aidan being 20 years old seems like eons away right now. You are my hero too. Another friend from IG sent me love and kindness this morning after reading my blog, which led me to check my blog which led me to the above gal which made me want to update my Facebook status and I was left without a proper set of words to describe feelings which led me to a FB message of love and kudos which made me come back and blog it out. ::sigh:: I feel like I really needed this right now at this exact point in time. I keep swimming and keep up "normal" as best I can. I don't expect any pats on the back for doing what I am supposed to be doing. That is life. You just get your shit done and live. But every once in a while if somebody says "good job" it does make me weep because this is really fucking hard you guys.

 I have not done the lists in a long time but I think it's a day for it.

 The Shitty Stuff
  •   I miss my sister so much.
  •   My Dad is sick again. Worse than last time.
  •   I wish I could buy Aidan age appropriate imaginative toys for a 4-5 year old instead of sensory toys to combat stimming.
  •  Some lady in our HOA is trying to make us get rid of our Chickens.
  • I put a few stress lbs back on 
  • Money is the root of all evil.

The Good Stuff
  • My sis is with the love of her life and her awesome future is in full swing.
  • My Dad can still wrestle Aidan
  • I am the wizard of craigslist and my redecorating project for the whole downstairs cost me less that 50$ 
  • I am healthy. My Husband and kids are healthy.
  • Most people are still generally good inside with good intentions. Most. 

 Also, I will be damned if anyone has a say in my chicken keeping. Good luck to anyone attempting to change my awesome Feltifarm. My flock, my business. 

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Indiscriminate Omnivore

  That's me. It has been this way a very long time and I am A-O-K with it. I am a food pusher and a huge fan of the "just one bite' method of food conversion of a nay sayer. I love to cook because I love to eat. And because my ways of communicating with new people or helping in a crisis always involve providing sustenance in the form of comfort delights. My kitchen is often a wreck. My pantry is busting at the seams with items most would never buy. But we have strange and unusual go-to recipes around here that call for buckwheat flour or nori or water chestnuts. I am a recipe hoarder which I will attempt once again to rectify by sharing another gem with you. But first let me tell you I am only a bit sorry but still sorry none the less for being one of those people. Those Bacon pushers. I am completely unapologetic about my long time love of cures pork rendered down into the absolute candy bar of meats. But, I do have to be more aware of those who do not share this romance. For example my quickness to assume that everyone is on board led me to thoughtlessly bring a jar of my amazing bacon pickles for the authors of a vegan cookbook at their signing last night. I think I just forget that bacon is meat. I dunno, my point is that was dumb and though I salvaged my stupid by instead giving them the jellies and jams I had also brought which are totally vegan goodness, I shook my head all night and this morning and honestly as I type this confession.

 I am forgetty and human and not perfect. So I sometimes forget that  a few friends I have are vegetarian. Because though you are all lovely and special, you are the cool and sane ones who don't wear your food title like a banner daily. I however, in my pig butchery diagram t-shirt still offer you bacon inventions. And you forgive me and tell me it looks delicious but no thanks, reminding me oh so smiley that you are anti-meat. Thank you for that btw.

 I am basically saying I will eat anything. And I appreciate all kinds of dietary restrictions be it because of health or religion or just moral compass. I will still probably eat your food too and buy your cookbooks to better my food knowledge. I value all your culinary awesomeness. Keep making me a better, more diverse cook so that I can eventually have the common sense to offer you hummus........without baconing it.

 Much love to my cooks of all kinds. Now here is a recipe that has eggs and stuff  in it. Sorry vegans. Love you, mean it.

 Shannon's Pumpkin Pie recipe! Minus the secret family ingredient but I swear on Halloween it will be fantastic. 

  First decision is the Pumpkin itself. I have used canned and it was just fine. But if you do not want just fine and you want praise form relatives and anyone doubting your culinary prowess, use real pumpkin. Trust me. It's worth the effort.
I use Cinderella pumpkin as a favorite and Sugar pumpkins as a backup if I can't get my hands on the first. Cut up the pumpkin into large chunks, remove seeds (Cinderella seeds are awesome for roasting) and roast for 30-40 minutes at 325 or until the flesh is soft. I say fork tender is an excellent test for doneness.

Let the roasted chunks cool till you can handle them safely and the scoop all that squishy goodness out of the skin and puree with a blender or food processor till smooth. You can freeze extra puree for future pies and a large Cinderella can yield mass quantities.

Now you are ready.


  • 2 cups of pumpkin puree
  • 1 12 oz can of evaporated milk
  • 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon of salt
  • 2 eggs plus the yolk of a third egg
  • 2 teaspoons of cinnamon
  • 1 teaspoon of ground ginger
  • 1/4 teaspoon of ground cloves
  • 1/4 teaspoon of cardamon

( the above spice combination can also be found in roughly 3 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice if you want to cheat)

  • 1/2 teaspoon of lemon zest
  • 2 good pie crusts

1. Preheat oven to 425

2. Mix sugars, salt and spices plus the very important lemon zest in a large bowl.Beat the eggs and add to the bowl.Mix in pumpkin puree then the evaporated milk. Whisk together until completely incorporated.

3. Pour into UNBAKED pie shells and bake these at 425 for 15 minutes. Then reduce the temperature to 350 and bake for an additional 45-50 minutes. The pies are done when a butter knife inserted near the center comes out clean.

4. Cool for 2 hours if you can wait that long. Served best with whipped cream.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Dating advice from a married person.

  My anniversary is approaching this month which makes me do that thing where I re-live our first date and feel lucky that a series of sort of messed up events brought us together. Sure it was all magic and butterflies but the real truth is that our first date could so easily have never taken place. Not any dramatic "against all odds" crap or anything. Just the run of the mill stuff you see in movies where there are like 45 parallels and near meetings before two people get together and it's almost stressful to watch. Like, Jennifer Aniston could play me. 

 Our story was and sometimes is still complicated. We met almost ten years earlier than our first date. I dated his very best friend, my upstairs neighbor when I was very newly twenty-ish. Those idiot boys upstairs apparently called me "hot tub girl" because I would swim laps after work and then read my book with a beer in the hot tub. I had called my now husband "the married guy" because of all of them he was the only married guy. So, I dated neighbor guy and after a lame six months of blah we broke up, I moved on and away, and I cut ties like a pro vanishing into the world. Really I just moved downtown for a few years to whoop it up in my twenties. Life moved on.

 Hot tub girl grew up a lot over the years and found herself single a few times over after investing way too much in men that don't matter. The internet was becoming a serious place to be cruising for dates and I hated it. I am not a match dot commer. I loathe it. Always have. Not judging those it has worked for. I am just saying it has never been for me. That being said, I did go though a very comical dating phase with my awesome roommate that solidified my man-hater-monday drinking phase completely. Had I not dabbled in the adventures of The Mercury Personals I would not have been open to a blind date a dear friend insisted upon. I mean really, I had played a drinking game called "count the beards" while surfing "potential soulmates" who had profile pictures with horn rimmed glasses and seven kittens. It was the perfect storm for an open mind.

 I am grateful for a failed marriage. I can be honest. Married guy became divorced guy and I suppose I should thank the crazy bitch who left him like a thief in the night because she made a humbled man mine. A very appreciative, eyes wide open yet jaded man. That would never have been my match before because he had married fresh out of high school. I strongly advise against this for so many reasons. When some ladies happily say "He was the first boy I ever kissed" all I hear is "I don't know any better". I am a bitch, I know. But seriously like 2% of that works out ever.

 My life is a happy accident because two formerly super happy people had life beat them up a little, then a great person said "geez you would be perfect for my friend. You both are pretty much in the same place right now" and it turned out we were. We commiserated about how other people suck. And had re-learned the things that made us happy so we totally had cool shit to bring to the table instead of being all "I don't know, what do you wanna do". It was the imperfect perfect first date when Hot tub girl realized Married guy was actually Divorced guy and when he realized she was Hot tub girl ten years before and got a little weirded out. It was complicated already but still ok because it was a really good time. Basically after petting street kids dogs and walking around talking till like 4 in the morning life would never be the same. Which was great because single life was dragging on too long for both.

 That saying about love finding you when you least expect it is ok. Cliche but pretty true. You just have to live your life and not be so hard on yourself. You will meet tons of people who love you. That is what matters. You can't even predict what will work out. Just live life like you want and be happy. Even if you are perfectly happy being a man hater cynical bitch for a while. Because that worked out fine for me. ;)

P.S. Thank you Melissa.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

What if you don't have anything nice to say for a really long time?

  A friend asked me the other night why I don't blog anymore. I told her I was trying really hard to practice the old " if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all" thing. When life has been pretty negative I feel like I can get trapped in a pattern of just bitching my verbal vomit out here. So, looking back I now see that I lose followers and my dear friends start to worry when it's been more than a month between posts. Because I tried something new. Being quiet. For the record I hate being quiet. And for the record her reply was "Why? Just go back to being you. I people can't handle it. Fuck em."

  Though I rant plenty I don't air all my dirty laundry here. There are novels I could write about voldemort and yes she has reared her ugly head bad nose job and seriously questionable hairstyles a lot lately. But I am sort of tired of dishing out that same poop with a different scoop. So I don't. And really when it comes to her, I can ignore the things she does to antagonize me personally. That shit is laughable and sad. When it's the lashings out against my children I dig in with no remorse. I do draw the line there and for the most part she has been somewhat less than toxic on that front. (knock on wood that continues)

  Most of my frustrations have been with Aidan. My emotions about him have been right under the surface and without even trying friends have brought me to tears with just an inquiry. That isn't me. Or the me I like to wear out in public every day. It's not a me I care to share with the world right now in brief encounters that make me self conscious as hell. Afterwards I worry that perhaps I will be seen as not having my shit together, or weak. I don't admit it often and frankly most of you can see it clearly, I rarely have my shit totally handled but damnit if I don't take all punishing blows with as much strength as I can. Weak is something I refuse to be. I hate it. I can be sensitive and not weak. Except the last few months have me feeling helpless and in fact weak as I've ever felt. I feel small and alone. Even in a team called marriage I still feel alone. My thoughts are my own and I don't share some of the important ones enough. I don't throw out cries for help or posts for back pats. But I do need to write my feelings more than I have been about this topic especially.

  I am wholeheartedly afraid for my sons future. I am sad to think he may never marry. That he may not reach high levels of education that fulfill his happiness. That he will remain so simple. That he could possibly live at home for a very long time. I fear that I cannot keep him safe. From himself and his stupidly brave innocent choices more than any outside source of harm or manipulation. I have horrid dreams about this. His great leaps in development have also continued to show the vast pits. That divide widens every day. The contrast breaks my heart. I don't have to compare him to his peers anymore because he doesn't have any. He is his own animal of mixed ages. Regression is still present and though we celebrate the shining moments, the darkness in the corners collects all the cast off skills that may never come back but haunt me because I documented the fact that he could at one point do them. Let's just say I can't use timehop without feeling depressed 5 times out of 10.

  The stimming and humming has reached nearly intolerable levels and I crack after 6 hours of incessant sound and running. I shout now. Because I can't break through into his world otherwise. I yell "STOP!!" at him. And sometimes he will stop. Just sometimes. It makes me feel like a terrible parent to yell at him. When he is being a "regular" child and acting his social age (which is barely 2 and 1/2) I can laugh at the naughty behaviors because THAT I can handle with grace. It's Autism that is breaking me. Yes it has been difficult to live through these terrible twos for so many more years than normal. Yes it will be a relief when he starts acting 3. But my hearts hurts to wonder when that will be. Will he be 6 in body and motor skills when he is 3 in communication and social interaction? Or 8 or 9? Right now I have a 2 1/2 year old with the build of a small 5 year old and he can read and do simple addition as well as rote count to 200. But he can't understand traffic safety and would gladly stroll into oncoming traffic as you scream STOP.

  This life is currently too unpredictable on the spectrum and I am in the trenches having a hard go of it. It's hard to work. It's hard to be home. I am holding on really tightly to the things that bring me joy but I find myself shying away from interactions that could scrape the surface and make me cry. So most of my moments are solo. Which makes for a ton of deep thinking and soul searching. I know I am a tough cookie and that some people I love would like nothing more but to force social interaction to heal me but that's not my jam. And bless their heart most of them know that. So those of you that feel like your hands are tied and you can't help, trust that I understand how you feel and I love you. You weirdos who leave jars or wine on my porch are the reason I smile. Even if I don't say it the texted memes of crazy random shit are important to me. I really do have some of the best friends. I am fully heart eyed emojis all day for you.

 I do need to write more because this was therapy. Just saying words helps.

Friday, July 18, 2014

It's better to have loved and lost.........No. Eff that shit. Why do things have to die?

 I am so torn. Even as a grown woman I am rocked when someone or something I love has any sort of tragedy. I am a softy. There, I said it. I love hard and I hurt so bad when people or pets die. This makes explaining tragedy to my 11 year old very hard. In a way I feel like I can only cave in and be emotional in private because I don't want to encourage the dramatics that teenhood has already bestowed on us. And in another way I truly feel like there's a healthy dose of reality in seeing your parents be real and even vulnerable. I know I am not weak because I cry when my heart hurts or when I feel sympathy for someone else. Being strong is just as important as having enough compassion for your fellow man to feel their pain too.

 But. This morning when my teeny tiny rooster died of an illness he has been fighting, I cried so hard my chest hurt. Like it was the very first fish I ever had to flush down the toilet. I know the reason that I was mourning the tiny rooster. Because just yesterday we found out my dad had a mild heart attack he hadn't told anyone about and had been rushed by ambulance to the hospital. And again, my father is not invincible. I kept it together. I stayed perfectly calm to explain to the kids that grandpa was having some health problems. I stayed logical and levelheaded and didn't cry when I told my husband about it. And then when I found my tiny rooster calmly quietly asleep forever, I caved in. I sobbed for everything.

 Explaining all of this with kid gloves to a child who lives part of her life in an extremely sterile and emotionless environment is very hard. At our house we cry. At our house when we are angry or upset we talk about it together. It must be tough to turn your feelings off and on based on what weekend it is. She has a heart of gold and she's extremely tender so when she feels things she feels about 10% more than the rest of us. It's hard to balance the line between sending her over the edge into a dramatic tween crying sobbing the world going to end episode, and just telling her everything is A-OK. Neither is appropriate in this instance. Thankfully she took my father's heart attack very seriously and held it together and asked me how I was doing which is an amazing amount of compassion for an 11-year-old. We went out to water the garden together and talked about life and death while discussing the rooster this morning. She has a very good head on her shoulders and enormous heart for her age. It amazes me every time we have to have a serious moment. Then we did the usual and she asked about God, I talk about creation and the way that I understand it and we shared feelings about love and loss in very logical terms. And I caught myself just kind of going through the motions because I am really hurting over the last couple days  happenings. So at one point I caught myself crying again and feeling the feelings inside of my body I haven't felt since I was a little kid. It's the feeling of fuck this it's all garbage why the hell do people have to die life is unfair. Though I didn't say it out loud and she didn't say those exact words, I know we share the same heartache about it. I've lost a lot of close loved ones. She has lost a few distant relatives she barely knew and one great gram. I think the hurt is the same when you have big sensitive hearts.

 I know in my heart of hearts the reason I'm so emotional about this tiny rooster isn't because he was just simply wonderful loving and kind. I know it's because my dad's getting old and with every rush to the emergency room I feel him slipping  away from me. I also know that I'm not invincible and someday I will die. A little too much real life tends to get under my skin. I like to pretend these things will never happen because I don't know how to deal with it. In those ways I am in fact too soft.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Open letter to my eleventeen year old and her peers.

Dear teenager,

  This is the hardest time in your life. Adults should really cut you more slack. It's a really bizarre place to feel like you can't emotionally miss your mommy and at the same time be tough and strong and independent. Not a baby but you're not an adult. Your emotions and your hormones are running rampant and your life is basically a catastrophe. Your friendships are all being put to the test because all of you are raging hormonal idiots. Boys stink. Girls are motional basketcases. How on earth do we make it to adulthood? How on earth do we make it through this trying time in one piece with any friends left? We rage and rage against literally nothing but our own frustrations. Being a teenager is a nightmare.

 This is a time when you feel like no one is taking you seriously and you can say everything it's in your head and it'll never come out the right way. And if anybody respects you and really treats you like a grown-up you start to miss being treated special like a little kid. You're in between stage and nothing makes sense. All you know that you just want to grow up get out of your parents house yada yada yada yada. Also "when I grow up I'll be nothing like so-and-so and such such".

My dear teenager. Just know that everyone goes through this passage. Most make it out alive. And everyone is better for the lessons they learn teenhood even though it seems like the struggle is stupid. All the drama all the friendships all the arguments all the fights with your parents. Those will all be worth it eventually when you're grown-up. When you have a teenager of your own, you will literally hear your parents words coming through your mouth and your very own teenagers will roll their eyes and sigh dramatically because now you "will never understand what they are going through". That déjà vu in itself is just as dramatic as what you're going through as a teenager. I promise.

 With your body changing and all the things you're learning in health class being so disgustingly real, we should probably just give you breathing room to vent and try not to point and laugh when you're hysterical. Because even though we think what you're crying about screaming about laughing about maniacally being crazy about, is super stupid and pathetic and trivial. That doesn't mean it's not the end of the world type of important to you. As grown-ups we should try to pull from our memory banks and recall what it was like to be you. Remember what it was like to be teased or taunted for having big boobs when you're sixth-grader. Or be laughed at in gym class if you are a boy because you're skinny and small and in jock minds inadequate. The world is cruel almost all the time in different ways. But I feel like it's the most cruel to a teenager. Not only are things complicated, but dammit nobody understands you! since we were once just like you we should try to remember and try to understand you.

Some teens Mom

Ps. And grownups, if were nicer to our youth maybe we can expect them to be nicer to each other.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Getting over myself: Shorts edition

  Last night after seeing the predicted million degree weather, I set my mind on the task of wearing shorts to work. This may sound stupid but I am not really an out in public wearing anything above my knees kind of person. I can wear khaki, black or denim shorts to work that are no shorter than three inches above my knees. Perfect because I am no braver than three inches anyhow. But am I brave at all? My legs are whitey white compared to my new farmers tan and I am self conscious about all the dings and marks adorning my thicker mom stems. I work with a team that looks like a cast from an old navy ad all joined up to be camp counselors and frankly I would put money on the odds that most have in fact been camp counselors. Our attire is campy yet clean at work basically. So this morning I search my stuff for shorts, select a couple pairs and jump in the shower to tend to the art that is not slicing myself to ribbons with a razor while absentmindedly shanscaping my nine miles of leg. Here is the inner monologue that transpired while I got ready.

Geez I hate shaving.

Good thing I'm married. hehehe.

That's so sad.

Why do I have so much skin?

This takes too long.

::out of shower trying on shorts::

Khaki makes my skin look paler.

How's that even happen?

Maybe denim is better.

I wonder if a rolled up jean short looks to young for my age.

Is it short? Or shorts? A rolled up jean shorts sounds stupid. Must be singular kinda.

I don't feel super fat in these.

Can I work in them? ::doing lunges and bends::

Hal: "what are you doing?"

Me: "nothing go eat breakfast"

::back to lunges but in my room instead of in front of the hall mirror::

I think these are good.

Hmmm, they have a little "fashion tear" by the pocket.

I wonder if that looks trashy.

::put the khaki shorts back on::

Hal: "what shorts are those?" ::making a rude teenager face::

::put on jean shorts and add a belt::

Fuck it. These are great.

I hate shorts.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Work/ Life Balance

  This is the current status of life. I feel like I am prioritizing like a person with a new job should. But I would like to flip this cart for the sake of my sanity. Even if the portioned amounts don't change I would like to be on top ya know? What does your priority pyramid look like right now?

  Really I suppose it's more of a work, life, wife, mother and friend balance. To tell you truth I do not have it organized for shit yet. I have the work part down. I absolutely love my job. I get to nerd out all day about things I enjoy with my peers. If I took the people I adored from my times working at past jobs it would only be similar if Nordstrom and the motorcycle shop made a baby. And those are our customers too. That blend. All in all I am in my element with other people who enjoy where they are too. I couldn't ask for a better spot right now at all! So everyone cross your fingers that I get to stay there for a long while.

 Now try to add in half day morning pre-school Monday -Thursday for the boy with an early bedtime. And a dash of heavy workload for the husband. Pour in a dinner schedule that is completely falling by the wayside, two scoops of tween angst that needs motherly attention she just doesn't get anywhere else, a pinch of friend time and shake vigorously. Things are blending but just barely. I am feeling the guilt lately of spreading myself too thin. The gym has fallen to a back burner though I am still dedicated to my fitness ( 30 lbs down ya'll!!!! whoop whoop!!). The time to travel to and from the gym has become an addition I struggle with. I have to sort that out because it's part of that ME time I promised myself. Just because I enjoy my job that does not make it time allotted for me as free time. Me time equals free time, not paid time. I don't know why I have to remind myself of that fact but I do. Almost as though enjoying anything makes it less work which is soooooo not true because I enjoy my son and ohmygod he is a tough job.I miss my friends terribly and phone dates are even becoming impossible to schedule. Thank god I am not an in demand or popular social butterfly because holy crap I don't even know.

 So. How do I pepper in the things I miss? Like Bunco or lady dates or art ( last on my list but I miss it). I don't know yet but I do know how grateful I am for my friends who aren't assholes about the flake I have become. Life is hard you guys.

 In this same basket of thoughts, I have a deeper respect for my friends who work so much. And have husbands, kids, lives and social stuff to balance. I get it now. I am nowhere near the zen shit like you guys but I get it. It's ridiculous how much a no-school day can derail my whole life!!! When you get free and make it to the gym just know I am cheering you on. Because I get it. Eventually I plan to have this system running on cogs of magic and I will see you there. Hopefully soon.

 I do wonder how you all get from here ( total chaos) to there ( where you have some actual finesse to a schedule). Any tips are welcome.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Manic Monday

  What an amazingly emotional Monday. Today was our yearly evaluation with a panel made of specialist and teachers and autism experts that all know and love my boy. Same as last year at this exact time. I am scared to go back and read what I wrote about it honestly. I probably wont right now because I am reveling in all the glorious milestones Aidan had checked off his list at this meeting. The path from last year to here has been completely heart wrenching and filled to the brim with struggle. With all of those seemingly impossible hair greying stretches of insanity, watching him just be, not improve, not regress, but time standing still. There have been massive miracles. I am happy to say we finally have communicative speech at a level worth documenting with certainty of at least some permanence. Longest time period without regression. Real attempts at sharing and also showing patience and restraint. So many things to list because the pages and pages we all read over together as a group was just overwhelming.

 I cried like a tiny baby. Lump in my throat with both relief and pride through all of it. I wanted to scoop the boy up and cover him with thankful kisses every time his teacher moved on to another area of honest to goodness improvement. Each goal we made together as a team seemed actually achievable this time where as I remember feeling like "who knows" or "wouldn't that be nice" when we put pen to paper about it last year. I didn't have that same secretly pessimistic thinking I was being realistic and not allowing myself to get my hopes up sort of feelings this time. This is real. He is really doing it. And he is officially moving up the food chain into a larger ratio in the fall. Again, more crying. What I thought was a dark cloud called Kindergarten is really only a year away in the planning world. Again, more crying.

 I must have been a crying mess because I tried very hard not to wipe away tears with my hands. Mainly due to the newly discovered fact that habanero peppers will adhere a terrible terrible amount of searing capsaicin into your skin. Deeming my own hands weapons. I made peach pepper jam this morning like an idle handed idiot. So basically I added to my own tears. I digress as usual but the jam turned out amazeballs in case you were wondering.

 This meeting was one of the more important ones for me selfishly because this is the first one we walked away from overjoyed and smiling. As hard as this stuff is to live, it is epicly rewarding to hear the pride all of these women feel for my son and his accomplishments having also put in so much hard work and love into his needs. We basically all hugged and high fived.

 So raise your wine glass tonight and keep thinking happy thoughts for us. The good vibes seem to be helping fight the bad.