My "Uncomfortableness"

I’ll take Things That Are Uncomfortable for 100, Alex.

This weekend has presented itself with a myriad of opportunities for me to be uncomfortable. I’ve learned that a lack of comfort can come in the form of a physical or emotional assault. And, they cannot exist without each other.

My sleep apnea has forced me to attempt to wear the dreaded dental mouthpiece as I sleep. There really is only one way that you can be more uncomfortable when you slumber: the CPAP machine. Since that option is out of the question (for my mental health if nothing else), I attempted to wear the definition of intrusiveness last night to bed. It felt as though someone had cemented my teeth together. The longer I wore this thing, the more uncomfortable (mentally and physically), I grew. I can only liken my experience to the emotional discomfort that Vince Vaughn experiences in The Break-Up. Although his began with mental hell and mine ENDED with it, I think this pretty much sums up how distraught I became last night.

Could Life Get ANY Better?

This is what happens when you get old. Brock and I took Hayden out for a little ride last night. Years ago, we might have scooted off to town for a little bar hopping or hanging out with friends. Before Hayden. Now, we go to Lowe’s. The culmination of my evening was buying a shade for Hayden’s bedroom. And, I was damn excited about it.

They’re called room darkening shades. They’re worth their weight in gold. Now, since we have to get Hayden up at the butt-crack of dawn for pre-school, on the days he’s allowed to sleep in, perhaps I can trick his internal clock into thinking it’s earlier than it actually is. Oooooh! I’m so excited…

Autism’s Coffee-less Bitch

Well, my ability to multi-task like a maniac has slowed down a bit. I feel like a plant. I just sit here, taking up space. If I could release oxygen into the environment, I’d say I’d be able to name myself as some crazy new plant species. Probably a weed.

I have, however, taken to cooking. And guess what I found? A little present from my husband. Was he trying to tell me something? Yes, I believe so. It’s called Skinny Bitch in the Kitch. Although I’m not skinny, I am a bitch. The recipes are super healthy and I’m lovin’ them. Maybe I’ll even lose some weight. Then, I can be Autism’s Coffee-less Skinny Bitch in the _________. Insert your choice from the following: Kitch, ARC, or Doctor’s Office. Well, let’s not get carried away…I do love my food.

Kickin' The Habit (Or Beating The Crap Out of It)

So let’s talk a little about my coffee consumption. It’s nonexistent. Devoid. Barren. Absent. I can’t say that I’m happy about this, but I figure now is as good a time as ever to allow my kidneys to return to their once normal state. Caffeine’s hard on the body, ya know. It’s also the form of addiction I prefer first thing in the morning. Now I don’t drag myself to the coffee pot, I drag myself through my entire day instead. Yes, it’s affected my mood, but really, who’s going to have to live with that? Not necessarily me…just everyone else. So, it’s a win-win for me. I’ll keep you updated on my withdrawals. I just hope it doesn't involve a padded cell and prescription medication.

Have You Ever REALLY Needed One of These?

The coupon, not the bitch slap. I can think of people who need both. I received my bitch slap coupon from a facebook friend today. I may be using it someday soon on an unwilling participant. Good times.

1 in 100. When will you listen?

You got me on a bad day. Not only has it been a bad day, it’s been a baaaaaaaaad week. Today, I’m going to rant, just as a precursor to my Hap-Hap-Happy Birthday To Me party. It only seems fair to share my feelings with others.

As I was browsing around on facebook today, I saw an Age of Autism post about the new autism statistics. It’s now 1 in 100. Does this register with anyone? And when I say anyone, I don’t mean autism parents. I mean government officials, the CDC, perhaps parents of normally developing children (as of now), or anyone else in the general population.

I’m going to tell you a little story. When I was pregnant with my son, the alpha-fetoprotein test came back elevated. This meant that I received a personal phone call from my OB (after hours, mind you) and a very serious discussion in his office the next week. The risk of me having a child with Down Syndrome was elevated because of this test result to 1 in 175.

Here’s my question: tell me why my OB was so concerned about my 1 in 175 chance when there is a 1 in 100 chance for ANYONE to have a child with autism? And nobody cares. Shouldn’t there be a sign somewhere, maybe outside of pediatricians' offices? How about a pamphlet for first time parents? I think it should be tattooed on news broadcasters' foreheads. YOU HAVE A 1 IN 100 CHANCE OF HAVING A CHILD WITH AUTISM.

I know. We have bigger and better things to focus on. The swine flu, keeping eradicated disease rates down, the weather forecast in some foreign country. Pardon me for thinking this is a real concern to every parent in America.

There is blood on the hands of so many people. They know the truth and will not speak out. Until they do, the autism rate will continue to rise.

Please Pass the Deviled Eggs

My birthday is coming up. Well, if I were celebrating, it’d be coming up. I know all of my family and friends will be out scurrying around at the last minute, frantically searching for unique gift ideas (um, sure).

I’m going to spare you the search. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m deserving of an apron and pill hat. This must not be the general consensus, because I’ve yet to receive one. Now you know. I’m a domestic goddess in disguise. Would you like a cocktail with that, dear?

Exhaustion Has Set In

Taking a squirming four year old to a sensory-overloaded water park by oneself is the equivalent of running at 5.5 mph on a treadmill for two hours while attempting to catch one of those water snake toys (remember those?). Virtually impossible. You can never catch those dang things. Technically, I was with friends, but they were all chasing their own greased-up children. Next time, I’ll bring reinforcement...perhaps a bouncer or nanny.

Thank You, Sir! May I Have Another?

I’m just going to come out and say it…I love B12 patches. Hayden's doctor recommended this new supplement. I figured we’d wind up having to practically duct tape it to his skin (just kidding…don’t go off calling child services or anything).

It’s taken a little practice to keep Hayden from removing them. We’ve resorted to covering them with small circular band-aids (you know, the ones that look like Janet Jackson’s nipple guards from the Superbowl?). Last week, once we got the procedure down, Hayden started detoxing. I could tell. He began lining things up halfway across the house, started making strange noises, and was very energetic. I grabbed my little Dixie-like collection cup and did a UTM.

Background: Hayden has never pulled many metals. A year’s worth of DAN left us with a porphyrin test that wasn’t much better than 12 months before. They showed the highest metal count I’ve ever seen. So, they’re in there…and they need to come out. Don’t get me wrong, I love DAN, but my son was a tough nut to crack. Enter Dr. Mullan and Dr. Amy Yasko’s protocol (more on them later). Now we’re seeing some progress.

Today, I received the results of the UTM. Fabulous, if I do say so myself! His creatinine was low, so the numbers are actually higher than what they seem. He pulled a wide variety of metals. Even though they’re still in the green, this is big for Hayden. Below are the results.

And, as I type this, I’m perched at the computer with my very own B12 patch between my shoulder blades. I’m perky, I’m spunky, and doggone it, I feel good. I may even fix supper for my husband tonight. I’m going to start buying these babies in bulk.

Don't Fuck With Me Fellas, This Ain't My First Time at the Rodeo

After my latest facebook come-apart, I don’t think anyone will. But, you just never know. Check out my Age of Autism article:

http://www.ageofautism.com/2009/08/united-we-stand-divided-we-fall.html#more