Medicinal Marijuana, The Neckline Slimmer, and My Emotions

I lack the creativity to blog about one single topic for any length of time. I’ve turned into an ADD nightmare. So instead, I’ll combine themes tonight and talk randomly about stupid shit that nobody likely cares about.

First of all, I recently read an article about a mother who gives her nine-year-old autistic child pot. Being a former sheep, my first instinct was to gasp and tskk this lady. I snapped back to reality fairly quickly and realized the majority of Americans willingly inject mercury (the second leading neurotoxin on the planet) into our newborn babies. So, what’s the big deal with giving them a plant? Nothing. Our children are sick. If Hayden is still in chronic pain when he’s older, you can bet I’ll do what I can to ease his aggression and make him feel better. Rock on, autism mom. In fact, I think most autism parents probably deserve and need an occasional break (without the children, of course social services) to fire one up and get baked. Unless you’ve walked a mile in my shoes (and even some autism parents whose children are mildly affected have no idea what it’s like), you can’t begin to imagine how badly we warriors need a home makeover, extreme makeover, weekend getaway, or to take a hit off a rather large bong (or perhaps an obscene amount of alcohol would do the trick).

On a non-autism related note, I purchased a neckline slimmer the other day. I figure if the rest of me is going to get fatter, I’ll be damned if my neck does. Why, from the clavicle up, I’ll look relatively the same (as long as my nose doesn’t expand like last pregnancy). At first, I was a closet neckline slimmer user. I knew Brock would make fun of me and accuse me of buying into anything. I figure once I get rid of my quadruple chin, he’ll be a believer, too.

Pregnancy is making me an emotional, feminine mess. I actually cried the other day while watching a State Farm commercial. How sick is that? I spent the majority of the day in a fetal position damning autism and anything that relates to it. A fellow blogger reminded me of an anniversary of sorts that we unknowingly share. Our boys were both diagnosed with autism three years ago this month. Maybe it’s taken me three years to realize that Hayden may never recover. I don’t know. All I know is that autism is really getting on my nerves. I’m not seeing the progress I’d like to and I just want to bitch about it. I know what would help…but I’ll save the medicinal cookies for next year.