Pardon me, but what has happened to my Autism Blog List?

All this work and my autism blog list disappears. Technology be damned! I feel a Joan Crawford fit coming on...

I Will Get By...Won't I?

I find that if you read this entry while listening to The Grateful Dead, it makes much more sense. Turn it up REAL loud.

It's been one of those days again. Quite a dismal Sunday. I'm going to take it out on my keyboard.

I caught myself wondering why the volume on my iPod wouldn't go past 30. "Touch of Grey" was playing. I could really use a louder iPod. Perhaps something for the hearing impaired. I want to rock out so loud that Hayden's whining seems like yesterday's news.

His behavior has been ATROCIOUS. Must be detox. It's time for a comprehensive stool analysis, metabolic analysis profile, and urine amino acids test. Will anyone volunteer to stir the shit, literally, for the stool test? I didn't think so. I'm out $700 and I have to mix poop for three days. Good times.

I hid the apples, raisins, juice, and bananas for Hayden's metabolic analysis profile. Some of the apples had been in the pantry for so long I practically had to peel them off the floor. Then I found my prize for the day. There were ants and gnats scurrying from the bag. What's up with me and these damn ants? I can't get rid of them...they're worse than my stretch marks.

I tried to administer hydroxy B12 drops to my excessively active four-year-old. In a partially lit room. On my braided rug. AND he wouldn't sit still. Unfortunately, B12 drops are beet red. By the time I finished, my living room looked like the Battle of Gettysburg. I got down on my hands and knees. I cleaned my kid, the rug, the floor, etc. I stopped what I was doing and realized that I'm unhappy. And in my eyes, I'm fat, I'm ugly, and my boobs don't pass Oprah's pencil test (which is equally disturbing as the first three complaints).

But now, the house is quiet. The dogs, the kid, the husband...are all in bed. I'm left to peck away at the computer keys. I made it through another day. That's all you can do, really. I will get by, one day at a time.

Yes, I'm Autism's Bitch

Many people wonder which type of bitch I'm referring to in my blog entitled "Autism's Bitch." I use this term loosely. Yes, if you know me, you'll know that I can be a bitch. I'm fairly easy to get along with, just so long as you're not a sheeple. I do have my moments, though. I've been called a bitch several times in my life. I assume that, since I'm a fighter and not afraid to voice my opinion on autism matters, I could be considered Autism's Bitch (as in 'Man, she's a real bitch'). However, the main reason I chose Autism's Bitch as my blog title is because I seem to be (ahem) getting fucked up the ass on a regular basis by autism. I am Autism's Bitch.

Blogging Beginnings

As I sit here slurping my apple jacks, I'm brought to the realization that my life is surrounded by children. I look around the kitchen and see pictures of my son, Hayden, my friend's kids, and snapshots of myself as a child. Heck, I even have a few photos of random children eating watermelon. Let me explain this...I collect watermelons. My kitchen is the graveyard for all watermelon decor. I was searching eBay one day for "watermelon + decorations" and came upon these awesome old-timey photos of people eating watermelon. So, doing what any good watermelon enthusiast would do, I bid on them. I'm guessing there isn't much of a market for century- old pictures of random watermelon eaters. I won the auction and proudly display my watermelon photography (which happens to be of children and young adults) in my primitive kitchen.

And I don't even like kids, really. Well, I used to. For God's sake, I was an elementary school teacher. I dreamed of being a wonderful, caring, life-changing educator that would be remembered for decades to come. Oh, I'll probably be remembered, but not for being Teacher of the Year. I did my best, though. I also yearned for a yard-full of my own kids. It just seemed fitting to get married and have children. But, after having my own child and dealing with four years of screaming, I've learned that in this phase of my life, I don't particularly like kids. Of course, the exception being my child and my friend's children.

I may change, just as I did once before. There could come a time when I decide to volunteer to oversee sack races at Hayden's elementary school field day. Perhaps I'll be the carpool mom who drives a station wagon or mini-van. Right now though, I crave adult interaction. If I've heard the Blue's Clues song once, I've heard it a thousand times. I may become the crazy lady in the nursing home singing that unfortunate tune. It's wired into my brain in a baaad way.

And what's up with Yo Gabba Gabba? Does this show disturb anybody besides me? The guy with the orange hat looks to be on something equivalent to crack. The little characters that run around their imaginary world are questionably disfigured. And I'm all for self-expression, but the music this show promotes really makes me wonder. All in all, I'm not sure I'm ready to turn over my child's mind to a man wearing tights and a Grand Poobah headpiece. But that's just me.

However, my life continues to revolve around children's issues. When my son regressed into autism, my world shifted. I stopped teaching to stay home and take care of him. I've become addicted to autism treatment. Hayden's improving, but it's taken up so much of my sanity that I dream of basking on a deserted island with no temper tantrums or cartoons to speak of. The truth about vaccines, managing autism, and dealing with IEP's, etc. is now my life.

This is my first blog, so be prepared for such child-related topics if you choose to read my entries. I may need a break from sippy cups and pull-ups, but that break has come in the form of writing. I won't stray too far from my pre-determined path. I may not want to be around kids right now, but I do want to be around the topics that follow them.