Month: December 2014

I believe

He believes in Santa Claus.
So I promise to keep the spirit of Christmas.

He believes in full body hugs and sticky kisses and snuggles.
So I promise to keep him warm and held.

He believes in tickles and chicken jokes and goofy faces.
So I promise to remember to make him smile.

He believes in popcorn in Momma’s bed and late night cartoons.
So I promise to break the rules.

He believes in big splashes and sparkling bubbles and water guns.
So I promise to remember to get wet.

He believes I’m a princess.
So I promise to let him rescue me.

He believes in loud laughter and squeals and giggles.
So I promise to remember joy.

In everything.

Every day.

Because life is more than the lot we’ve been given.

It’s what we believe.

And it’s what we do with what we believe.

And I promise to remember that.

Because today…

tonight…

this very minute…

He believes in Santa Claus.

And that’s all I need to know.

Merry Christmas,
#SpectrumMom

P.S.
Pic of my Boy. Which is also a pic of 100% pure, innocent, perfect belief.


#iBelieve

Dear NT Family & Friends,

Dear Neurotypical Friends and Family,

Um. So, hey, I just wanted to let you know that… yeah.

I don’t do jealous.

I don’t know why, I just never have.

I’ve never wished I had someone else’s job or car or house or family.

I’ve wished that I had a bestseller on the New York Times… but it’s more of a naptime fantasy than actual jealousy over anyone else’s book.

I don’t want THEIR success.

I want mine.

And I want success for my Boy.

There are a million ways my mind wants to go when I start down this thought-road, so I’ll try to line up a clear, easy to follow map.

And it starts with this: I am not jealous of you.

I am not jealous of your child.

I am not jealous your child is not autistic.

I am not jealous your child is top reader in his school.

Or that she won a state solo contest.

I am not jealous your husband helps with your laundry. I’m not sure how such a thing happens exactly, but I’m not jealous.

I’m happy for you.

I just want to throw that out there.

Because lots of someones are apparently concerned, since I started talking about my Boy’s autism, that they can’t share with me. They can’t brag. They can’t talk about the wonderful, amazing, fabulous things their kids are doing.

Out of kindness and consideration for feelings I don’t have.

But maybe one day I will. Maybe, as my Boy grows and our differences are more noticeable and our struggles more intense, I will have a hard time celebrating with and for you.

But not today.

Today we are living in that soft, gray cloud that floats ambiguously between the storm of pre-diagnosis and the soft, lily white fields of “we’ve totally got this autism thing.”

We are somewhere in the middle.

Where life is manageable.

Where hope is concrete and pain is fleeting.

Where I can share ”us.”

We don’t have it all down yet, but I can see that the tunnel we’re in doesn’t end at a brick wall.

I can see that the very, very rough years we’ve been through had purpose.

And that’s why I’m sharing everything I do. I’m sitting here on Facebook every night talking through my thoughts and feelings. Sharing the hard and the easy. Sharing the laughs and the tears. Reaching out because I know we’re not alone.

I’m not jealous of what you have, I’m trying to share what I have.

I know our life looks very different from yours.

And I’m okay with that.

Because I love what we have. I don’t love that my Boy has to struggle to get through a meal or to get dressed or go to the bathroom. But I love him. I love how he loves me. I love how loving him is turning me into this insane advocate-ish, educated, aware human being.

I love this crazy, messy, stained, saturated life that we have going.

So, I said all that just to say “congratulations, I’m proud of you guys.

You guys are awesome.

Tell me all about you while we’re here.”

And I hope, really, really, really hope, you’re proud of us.

Let me tell you all about us while we’re here, too.


#SpectrumMom

Pic of Me holding my Boy. Who is wearing iLs headphones. At Occupational Therapy.

A Picture I took because after 5 months of his wearing them twice a week he’s finally decided there’s absolutely nothing wrong with putting and KEEPING them on.

Which is a huge triumph.

One of many we had today.

Celebrate with us.

The Value Of Art

Because, Legos.

So.

My Boy has been learning the hard lesson that Legos cost money.

Which means he is learning that momma can not buy every Lego IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.

Which means he is learning about how money is earned.

Which led us to MR. Rogers and a video on artists who sell their work.

(I don’t know. It’s where the google-YouTube gods led us.)

Which led to the announcement that he was a “Super Painter Man.”

Which led to the request for an artist’s hat.

Which led to stripping pants.

(I didn’t know artists cannot wear a hat AND pants. Huh.)

Which led to a dozen giant sheets of blue paint.

So if anyone out there wants to buy some authentic paintings by Spectrum Boy, let me know.


#SpectrumMom

#TryingToBypassSanta
#ChristmasIsAnEternityToWait

Pic is my Boy’s painting, entitled “Bob the Builder because Orange.”

How to Be a Ladyperson at the Holidays: 10 Important Tips

superfresh candypants sugarblossom

This is me. I am superfresh candypants sugarblossom.

#NailedIt

I Miss You When I Blink

Straight from the ad pages of your favorite magazines, here’s your guide to being a girl in December. Take notes.

* * *

1. Stay cozy. Wear a baby.

wear a baby If you play your cards right, your sensitive, goateed dad/boyfriend/professor will reward you with a pair of socks made out of his extra sweater sleeves.

 * * *

2. Flaunt your complexity.

Embrace all your many dimensions. Think: "I'm an heiress and an Italian professor at this upscale tropical funeral." Show off all your many dimensions at once. When planning outfits for your holiday soirées, think: “I’m an heiress and an Italian professor at this upscale tropical funeral.”

* * *

3. Represent feminine softness in a hard masculine world.

coach All around you are skyscrapers made of bricks and iron and glass and ouchy things. They’re all pointy and hard. But not you. You’re a soft pink flower in a gentle haze of light. Everything around you is blooming, because you breathed springtime into winter. You’re a superfresh candypants sugarblossom.

 * * *

4. If you’re truly hot, you…

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