Tuesday, December 8, 2009


I'm having a pretty rough time with Christmas this year.  I'm not feeling it at all.  This is unfortunate because Monkey is at the *just right * age to really enjoy it. I am attempting to drag the decorations out and put them up, but there's a lot of them and how did they get so heavy? Indiana has ripped up one Santa pillow, one stuffed snowman, 3 Christmas pencils and continues to sniff around for more.  Why am I letting the dog get at the stuff you ask?  I'M NOT.  Monkey is just so excited he is ripping through things and leaving them strewn about the floor.  It reminds me of Demi Moore rolling around in a pile of money in Indecent Proposal. I feel as though I need to avert my eyes and give Monkey time alone to rub musical trains and nutcrackers all over himself.

I have yet to tackle ANY Christmas presents and yet December continues to roll over me and try to drown me like a tsunami. December hates me. Before Christmas even rears it ugly misshapen head there is Monkey's birthday.  December 12th marks the 7th anniversary of his life and that DAY OF MORPHINE I ENJOYED.  (Ah, good times.  Good times.)  We're having a Star Wars party (again) this year.  I do count us fortunate that we are blessed enough to be able to give him a party every year at the age he can enjoy it. That being said, GOOD LORD it's overwhelming. We are having the party this year at Storyville Station and my good friend Brian, the owner, will of course take care of everything. I know it will be spectacular.  An hour and a half of sound effects and lightsaber beatdowns with plenty of costumes and cupcakes to be enjoyed by all. But this is me.  This is my life.  My lyme life.  I am so tired and exhausted and overwhelmed at just the thought of things that I'm worn out before they begin.  Just as an idea takes shape of *things to come* my brain starts the catastrophic melt down of chemicals and toxins, and BOOM.  There goes Jen. It's like some kind of self-destruct count down. No superheros to rush in and stop it before I explode into a million tiny pieces.

I am now at 15 months of antibiotic treatment. I am some better, some worse.  The antibiotics kill off the evil lyme and friends and as they die their toxins poison me.  I am only 97 pounds of girl, and I don't know how much it would take to just kill me.  How to kill IT before it kills ME?  Quite the conundrum that no one really has figured out yet. So up and down I go being tossed between Lyme alive and Lyme dead. I have spent the past 2 months reading and meeting others with Lyme in LymeFriends on the web.  The internet has given me a wonderful tool to learn and bond with others who "get it". I have met some of the nicest people and I truly believe I have made some really good new friends.  So with all the evil sickness comes happiness and hope.   The Universe balances itself out.

Life is happening so fast around here.  I'm spinning and spinning between raising a child (that means all the stuff he will eventually go into therapy for), taking care of a child (that means making sure he remains alive, moderately healthy and hygienic), fighting an unseen and invisible invader inside my body that robs me of my vital life force second by second, making sure autism symptoms do not creep back in for Monkey and rob him of his quality of life, and of course, all the day to day shenanigans and shit that compromise living.  Whew. Sometimes I feel like Chevy Chase just tied to me the back of the bumper and dragged me across the Western United States. Hopefully, when I get to where I am going WallyWorld will be OPEN FOR BUSINESS.

So, on this gray rainy morning I once again am faced with the question, "Should I accomplish something or should I just lay down and nap?"

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Boba Fett the Poet. Who knew?

Just a really quick October update. I'm slack. I've been sick.  I've been tired.  I've been overwhelmed.  For awhile I was pretty sure I had been cursed.  Oh, you think that's funny?  I'm serious.

Several definitions of pox in no particular order: 1. Misfortune and calamity. 2. (Orthopox Viruses) Molluscum contagiosum (MC) is a viral infection of the skin or occasionally of the mucous membranes. 3. (Herpes) Chickenpox or chicken pox, also known as varicella, is a highly contagious illness caused by primary infection with varicella zoster virus (VZV). 4. Most common late complication of chicken pox is shingles. 5. A disastrous evil : plague, curse.

Do you see what I'm getting at here? First, I had the shingles in May.  In August, Monkey had the MC.  In October, Monkey had chicken pox.  Even though he had been vaccinated.  The dog has started limping and running on three legs.  The computer had a VIRUS and had to go to computer hospital for 2 weeks.  I feel slightly CURSED.  Not to mention the other obvious pox, Lyme.  Oh, for the love of Joanie and Chachi. What is going on? Then, big fat THEN, the mic on the iPhone quits working.  AND the mic on the earbuds.  It's as if Stephen King is quietly lurking in the background around here. Somebody get me a priest!  So now you know.  Some gypsy has put the kibosh on me and my family for an unknown devious reason. Are you laughing? Really? REALLY?

So Monkey was home from school for weeks on end.  I send him back and just a few weeks later he is home again with a cold.  Then I get the cold.  Then Neenie gets the cold. It has yet to let us free from it's mucus spewing grip. Brilliant!

So let's move on the positives shall we?  Monkey and I decked ourselves out in costumes and went to a Dead Poet's Party.  Oh, fun!  He wrote a poem and read it.  I am so proud of him.  He is so much braver than I ever imagined. And talented.  I think the most important thing involved in cultivating a talent is to just keep doing it over and over.  He does.  He writes books and stories everyday.  Sometimes it's just cartoons.  Sometimes it's chapter books. Once, it was a haiku. He inspires me.

October October
With a good ending
And a Lollipop

I found a really wonderful Lyme group online and have been visiting it every night. It's my first real experience with a chat room.  I feel like I've made friends with people who understand how sick I am.  They love to talk medicine and I love to talk medicine too. I have learned so much in just a few weeks. I feel like I need to be very careful though because I don't want to live in this disease.  I do not want it to be who I am. It's comforting to know that I am not the only one though.  I have met other people with autistic kids, GF/CF dieters and chelators.  I don't feel like the black sheep anymore.  What a relief.

I know this is relatively short, but I just wanted to get back on the horse. I've missed writing.  More later.  Maybe Boba Fett will have something to add.

Monday, September 28, 2009


God, I feel real bad about the last post and would prefer not to be struck by lightning. Here's another pic I took at the doctor's office. We cool?

Exhibiting Inflammation

One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other...

I'm trying to flow, Deepak. I'm trying to walk the line between the visible and invisible, Paulo Cielo. I'm trying to connect to the source, Dr. Wayne Dwyer. And so on...except I have this anger welling up in me from which I know not where. I'm tired. I'm irritable. I'm exhibiting inflammation. I'm going to stomp on this tiny (yet getting a bit round in the hips) dog, smash this computer, write bitchy blogs.

I spent all day in the car. You would think that after spending so much quality time (EIGHT HOURS) with my iPhone listening to Elizabeth and Darcy killing zombies I would be happy, right? So why do I feel homicidal right now? Computer. You are so damn slow. I know that this bitching is completely contrary to accepted affirmation format. I want so badly to just flow. I am frustrated though. I am surrounded by entropy and it's going all mercury matrix on me. I feel like pulling the covers over my head. Sleeping a really really long time, and then some more. Quote from doctor's office today: "So the depression is completely gone?...YEP." What was not said: "So you still crazy?...SOMETIMES."

Today was another appointment with my Lyme Doctor. (I shall here after refer to him as such, since I don't want him to get in trouble for actually helping people.) The vacillation on my tongue has stopped. I know you have no idea what I'm talking about. I promised though to try to help other people so I'm writing it down. Just skip it if I'm boring you. And, no, it's not gross. I didn't even know I had it. Apparently, it is related to a nerve that is often affected by lyme and is therefore a symptom. Quote: "Your tongue looks good!"

(If that dog bangs on the door one more time to go out and be all manly and bark his head off I'm gonna..INDY! KNOCK IT OFF!)

All the other crap though has come back. Regression! Ugh, I know. Running a temp for a month, I know. Face broken out, not related, but it is totally pissing me off too. So now we are on to a new antibiotic. Interesting twist here. This one is for leprosy or the bite of a brown recluse spider. I like the term "therapeutic trial" better than "shotgun approach" or "grasping at straws". I hope I don't drop dead. Cause sometimes, just sometimes, I think I might.

(Has anyone watched Heroes lately? Totally sucking. Yet another thing to get my dander up.)

Don't get me wrong. I left the doctor's office with a smile on my face. He took a yeast swab (up my nose, perv), and I'm clean. After twelve months of antibiotics I think that's great. One less worry. I will try anything to feel better. I always think of that line from The Cutting Edge where DB Sweeney says "Fly to Mexico and shoot shark piss up my nose, right? There's a cure, right?" And before you say it, YES, I GODDAMN WATCHED THE CUTTING EDGE. Why are you egging me on right now? He also gave me some migraine med samples to try for the meniere's flare ups. Awesome. Please, I don't want to drop dead.

(INDIANA! Stop whining at me! There is no TREAT for you!)

Remember I said how I keep having dreams that I am in high school and there's one week left of finals and I can not possibly do it. I am so tired I choose (in my recurring dream) to just chuck the whole thing. I'm dreaming I'm tired and a failure in my dreams. Fantastic.

(Hang on. Gotta get Mom's whites out of the dryer. Did I not say entropy sucked? They'll be dirty and mocking me by next weekend.)

Am I being punked? No hangers, mystery dog poop and burnt out fluorescent in the laundry room. Really? REALLY?


So anyway, I'm reading a magazine in the HOUR I am waiting and I find an article about dreams. Refer to picture of said snippet at the top. Well, that about sums it up. Frustrated with not living up to my potential. NUTSHELL. I can check my horoscope and my biorhythm and the answer is always the same. F**KED.

I'm gonna try to end this on a positive note... NO I'M NOT.

Out of Sync

It's almost 1 A. M. and I'm downloading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I went to bed hours ago, but my body is on a sleep a few hours-get up and wring your hands for a few hours while exhausted-sleep a few more hours schedule. I have a trip to the doctor tomorrow in Mobile. I meant to run by the library to get some books-on-CD, but alas, my plan did not come to fruition. You see, it was sunny today and warm. I am apparently a vampire. I am apparently exhausted because I do not partake of the human blood. Or it could just be the Lyme making the sunlight unbearable, and I can only do one thing a day. Today it was the ZOO...with the cub scouts. Boy, was it a zoo.

There were about one million people dressed in knee socks and polyester milling about. Maybe just a thousand. I'm not a good judge of quantity (or distance, now that I think of it.) Monkey and I went with friends. They are sweet and they made it totally bearable. If I had been alone I'm sure I would have had an anxiety attack. It was way too much stimulation and my Meniere's was acting up. It makes things feel so surreal. I'd love to tell you about all the fascinating animals, but I didn't really feel a connection today with the animals. Normally the sea lions are all goofy and happy and waving. Today they were just swimming around ignoring the crowd. There were Bengal Tigers. Or maybe just one Bengal, I'm not sure. He wasn't as big as I expected. After Life of Pi I expected something fierce and large and menacing. Not so much. He was just kind of skinny sunning himself behind a piece of glass. I didn't even catch his name. It would have been cool if he was named Richard Parker. I'll bet every tiger is named Richard Parker now. Kind of like Jennifer or Michael in 1970. Pretty soon everyone will get sick of it and go back to naming them all Hobbes I suspect.

I really enjoy the children's zoo with farm animals. You can get up close to them and not risk losing a limb. We didn't head that way today though. We just hit the monkeys, boring, the cats, boring, the reptiles, boring, the sea lions, uncooperative, and some exotic birds. Now the flamingos...were interesting a bit. You can reach out and touch them although I would not recommend it. Their beaks look like something from The Saw. Cute though. Tiny beady eyes on opposite sides of their head, and almost as tall as me. Lawn ornaments are apparently made on a 1:4 scale. Something to ponder considering garden gnomes...

I know, you're bored. Well, it's the middle of the night, and I'm just killing time. Cut me some slack. Someone needs to go to the grocery store around here. I hate the grocery store. Bright! Cold! Over stimulation! I also know that a trip to the grocery store is the only thing I'll be doing that day. Exhausting. See, you are normal. You have no concept of what I speak. Mom usually tackles the grocery store, but since she's been working seven days a week I'd feel kind of guilty asking her to do it. So we are being pretty creative around here for sustenance. Needless to say, we're totally out of condiments, dressings and dips. I mean, not Monkey though. He's on a strict I'll only eat such and such and since we have such and such he's covered.

We did go out to eat after the zoo. Iguana Grill. Mexican. Excellent! Monkey even ate a cheese quesadilla (I had to pay him a dollar.) I had three cheese and onion enchiladas and beans and rice. I still feel like someone water boarded me. I must learn to stop myself. Love Mexican though and all the hot sauces. We never eat out. We fast food, but not outside the comfort of our home. When I said, "We never eat out." Monkey said, "We did that one time. With Duncan." "True. That was in January at McDonald's. Not quite what I meant." He did good though. Maybe we'll try this more often. Going out to eat always involves showering and dressing. Bummer.

So I think my download is complete. I'm gonna try to go back to sleep for 3 more hours before I have to hit the road. Before I sleep I like to say thank you to God for everything about a hundred times. I like to remind myself that my body is just a vehicle for my energetic body. Even though my physical body feels broken, my spirit is not. We are all connected. I am a part of the Universe and it wants only good for me. Then I fall asleep and dream about snakes, about being too tired to finish high school for the millionth time (I did finish, why the recurring nightmare at age 39??), and maybe about kissing a boy. Sweet dreams. My boy is gonna be up at half past ass crack again tomorrow.

"Your iPhone is now done syncing".

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Hustle and Flow

So here we sit on a Friday night watching DVR'd Clone Wars episodes. Monkey has done nothing but whine since I picked him up from school. He earned a time out in the car for throwing his buddy's backpack around, whining some and raising his voice. Honest, it doesn't happen that often, but when it does I just want someone to put me out of my misery. He had to sit for 6 minutes on the stairs when we got home and think about it. Right. He's thinking about what he's onto next. No remorse. Ants in his pants.

Everyday he expects me to get him a drink, a snack, set up a game or video or whatever craft he's got it in his head to make that day. I'm like Goddamn Mr. French around here. I know! I know! I only have myself to blame. He used to not be able to do these things for himself and I got in the habit. When he finally could I failed to immediately make the appropriate adjustments, and now I am paying paying paying. Shut your mouth, Dr. Phil. I know. Being so exhausted all the time makes it really hard to demand results from him when I know I'm not showing him my own results. That's a big can of worms, and I'll open it later.

I have been telling him for weeks to pick up his toys. I was not kidding when I complained we were just stepping over things. They were spread out everywhere. Stairs. Landing. Doorways. I almost busted my ass in the bathroom slipping on a Lego person. I said he was gonna wake up one day and they would be gone. He laughed. He also said, "I don't clean." GAME ON. So while he was at school the other day I placed everything that was on the floor anywhere in the house in trash bags. I placed the trash bags in the garage. I picked him up from school and waited for the approaching shit storm. Man, I was scared. I am not a heart breaker. I don't have the guts. I also love him very much, and must learn to be a soul crusher when need be. He's got to learn, and I have to love him enough to teach him. Even if it breaks my own heart in the process. Someday he's gonna tower over me. I need to make sure he's straight by then.

We came in and he was like, Wow, you cleaned up. Wait a minute...(finger to lip, scrunched up brow) where is everything? "Mom! Where is everything???" GONE. I warned ya, mister. Then he was silent for a bit. There was no tantrum. I felt the eye of the hurricane passing over me. I said, "You can have one bag of toys back for everyday you keep everything picked up." Then he said, "Look at all the room I have to play. Okay, sounds fair." MY SIX YEAR OLD JUST SAID SOUNDS FAIR. MUST BE DAIN BRAMAGE. "Hey. Wait a minute. Where are the Lego people?" That's when I started to hear the wind howling and everything went dark. GONE, I said. AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! I NEEEEEED THEMMMMM!!!!! That's more like it. (Check mate.)

So all night that night he fluctuated between complete anger at the entire world (WHO SAYS PLUTO IS NOT A PLANET! WHAT ARE THEY THINKING!) and being completely nonchalant as if nothing had transpired to rock his little world to the very foundation. Thank goodness for ADD. I did it! Toys still in garage. He has picked up everyday. And I am now saying NO regularly.

This week has been brutal. Neenie had a hard time at work, I've been feverish constantly and so tired I feel as though I have been drugged. There was actually A COPPERHEAD in my mom's office this week. Needless to say, the stress is palpable around here. No one is looking anyone else in the eyes cause we are all just trying to keep moving. KEEP SWIMMING! KEEP SWIMMING! I am quite ashamed to say though that when my mom comes home and I ask her how her day was (and if she has the power to answer me) and then she asks me how my day was I am basically answering the question "Did you get along with yourself today?" Most days my answer is embarrassing. "It was hard today."

Do you know what it is to be bereft of feelings? To have so many feelings that they are all slugging it out for your attention internally until they crescendo into a screaming hysterical anxiety in your brain that no one can hear but you? Then, you are empty because it is the only way to continue until the next wave hits. To feel like you are hanging by a thread even though you ARE vertical and you ARE mobile and you ARE supposedly sane? It's like being hit by lightning. So much electrical charge that it lifts you up, sets you on fire then just shorts everything out including your heart and brain. That's how I feel today. As Elizabeth Wurtzel puts it "More, Now, Again".

Here I am, floating inside my body as if it is a sensory deprivation chamber filled with nothing but dark, silence and salt water. I am alone in here. I am Prometheus having my liver eaten out day after day. I am Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the damn mountain again and again.

I do not like to write when I feel blue. I don't want to come undone in front of you. It feels shameful. I don't like you to see my crazy. It's not that I'm depressed right now though. It's not the blues. I think it feels more like shades of gray. It could be that it rained for weeks and then it was one million degrees out all of a sudden. The solstice? The time? Bad feng shui? My hormones? Lyme reeking havoc with my CNS again? Maybe it's just the haze of the constant fever for weeks on end.

I just pulled up Deepak on Twitter and he posted "Love it the way it is and flow." So here I go. I get the message God. Tomorrow though, could I have a little more funny and a little less introspection? Thanks.

"It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp."

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Let's Dance

I wasn't planning on writing today, but it seems no one is really sharing on facebook or Twitter, so here I am. I planned to write yesterday and the day before that, but...isn't it funny how things work out? What? Not so much? Okey dokey.

I spent the entire (minus nap) day helping Monkey finish some work for school. Yes, he's in first grade. No, it's not homework per-say. He is the Star Student this week which requires him to bring in a poster board full of interesting things about himself to share with the class. Thank you computer for making sure I never print out pictures. Thank you Monkey for insisting we print out all manner of internet Lego fodder. So guess what. No pictures. No ink. Nada. I have to pull on some clothes and run out to Staples to get ink. I get ink. Two BLACK cartridges. Fantastic. I'm a full fledged genius today. (I blame the bored people at Staples for letting me do something so obviously WRONG!) So his pictures are all tinged a bit purple and dark. Let's call it "art". Very Andy Warhol. I thought it turned out pretty good. He wanted to make sure Anabel would like it. Awwwww.

I made him do all the captions. You would think it would be enjoyable since he is constantly writing something, but not so much. It interfered with his being a knight. He had to remove his gloves and helmet. (Didn't see that coming, did ya?) Oh, the injustice! I love hearing him sound words out so he can spell them. He is doing so well. As a child I absolutely refused to learn to read until after first grade and I wrote all my letters backwards. He is leaps and bounds ahead of where I was, and I made it to the gifted program. So there is hope for him yet. I give thanks for all the wonderful teachers he's had. They have truly set him up to succeed, and I thank them!

Putting together the poster made me feel pretty good. Not the part about accidentally almost chopping off my finger with the paper cutter, but the part where it looks like Monkey has actually had a pretty busy life. It's been hard getting out and doing things. But we have done it! I can't say I enjoyed everything because I was usually tired or sick and just dragging myself by my fingernails. When he grows up though he will have tons to look back on and know in his heart that I didn't drop the ball. I've done some stupid things in my life, but I make sure I have not one regret when it comes to Monkey.

Something I want to mention...Flu shots. I don't get it. I just don't get it. It makes me feel all sick inside thinking about it. Do your research, people!

I read some pretty disturbing things this week. I follow the blog Dooce. I really enjoy it. Apparently though not everyone does. She and her husband added a new page to the site called "monetize the hate". It is pages full of the mean things people write to her. I think it's genius that they tried to make something positive from such utter soul-shattering crap. I am in awe of the stuff people will say when they are not looking you in the face. I don't understand why people are reading the blog when they feel so negative about it. I don't understand why they feel the need to comment and be so down right nasty. People are amazing, and it goes both ways. On Twitter I follow Tony Robbins and Deepak Chopra and Corey Booker. They spend oodles of time just sending positive thoughts out to the net. It is so uplifting. Why some people choose not to uplift their fellow man but to instead degrade and belittle, demean and disparage is such a mystery! I mean, I could probably psychoanalyze those douchebags, but why bother?

It did make me feel apprehensive about blogging. I had to question my own motives. I also had to be sure I didn't walk on eggshells. What is the point of me writing if I fear people reading it? I want to connect with people. I want to be involved in a community where we can say to each other "I understand". If we hide who we are then who are we really? I got a comment informing I was using the term "Legos" improperly. Did I get my feelings hurt? Did I feel stupid? Ummmm, yep. I'm a big softie. But I'm sure that is probably just the first in a long line of critiques. And that's okay. I'm not writing a paper on 16Th century pirates. There is no real factual reporting going on. This is just my life as I see it. I'm not trying to be famous. I'm not even trying to get published. I am just trying to connect with other people. Maybe I will make them laugh. Maybe I'll feel a bit better for being brave and putting myself out there. Who knows. I'm sure whatever happens it will surprise me. There will be typos. There will be improper use of words. I will say the f-word. I will punctuate incorrectly.
I did not have the pleasure of finishing college. As a matter of fact, I failed my first English class. I claim this is not because I am stupid or unteachable or lazy, but because I was sick and tired all the time then too. I could not function. I forgave myself for this. Life never turns out how you expected it to. AND THAT'S OK. God has me right where he wants me. I'm okay with that. I know I'm smart. I'm happy for others who did get degrees. I am not jealous. My health and mental well being just wasn't compatible with that. I chose to go from an A to an F in English because I couldn't write the research paper on suicide in women in the 1800's. Since I was suicidal at the time I just couldn't face it. I decided to not dip my toe in that pond. I got an F (from an A) in a ballet class because we had to perform alone in front of the class as a final, and I chose not to. NO THANK YOU. I was terrified and over weight (for the first time in my life) and I didn't at that point have the gumption to do it. Certainly now I think things would be different. I know who I am...mostly. I know my limits, and I know when I NEED to move outside my comfort zone to achieve something positive for my growth. I also know that Xanax really helps. Lyme is neurological along with physical. So a lot of that wacky stuff going on up in my head is not real. After years and years I can kind of tell the difference between reasonable and crazy talk. Not having my college degree does not make me feel any less of a person. As a matter of a fact, the three businesses I have owned, the corporate job I had and the stuff I am doing presently have really made me well rounded (I think) in a way that college may not have. Who knows? It's really not important. And it only took me ten years to figure that out.

Oh, boy. You are dying to be my friend! I knew it. Well, I'll try to fit you in. If you don't mind that I spend half my life napping with an ice bag strewn across my face we might be able to work something out. I'm almost 40! One more year! I have a fantastic kid! I have a great mother. I'm so blessed. We have a nice place to live and clothes and food and cable and internet. We have power and water and money left over to buy books or a bicycle if we so choose. I got an iPhone. I am rich by any one's standards. I am by my own, at least.
Footloose: I just don't know that I believe in everything you believe in. But I believe in you.
Let's Dance!

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Wonders Never Cease

Everyday there is something new to amaze me with this kid, with our culture and with the speed which entropy progresses. Monkey has been all business lately with everything. Legos are very serious work and he slaves for hours over designs and directions. He pores religiously over the Lego site making lists of what to get next, who has what and watching Lego movies. (Why do I keep capitalizing Lego?) He wrote his own Power Miners book that was 22 pages, 3 chapters and even had a denouement. I shit you not. It was priceless. Last line: "He did an amazing job. The End."

Today we had to run by the book store to pick up a book for my new class* that starts tomorrow. And there, in it's own display rack, were Lego books. Goddamn Lego books. You got your chocolate in my peanut butter! Two great tastes that go great together... Why must God fuck with us this way? He knows I don't have the cash to be throwing away on more Legos, and yet, there they are combined with books. We shall perish if we do not possess the entire Lego universe! I'm so sorry Dr. Phil. I am such a shit for a parent. I caved. I only got ONE Lego book, but it came with gears! We needed it! I was kicking my own ass from the back of the store to the front, and totally hating everyone. I am not in control of anything apparently. My own. Worst. Enemy. They will find my body buried in a pile of Legos at the bottom of the stairs.

Also while we were there we had to pick up a DIARY for Monkey. He is 6. He wants a diary. It has a skull on the front and a cool elastic band to keep it PRIVATE! just like Mommy's. Will this be the piece of evidence they use to strip me of my child after they read his manifesto on FOX News? He spent an hour tonight asking how to spell certain words. It's all good though cause one of them was "Anabel"...his girrrrrrrlfriennnnnnd. I'm so proud. Looks like he may turn out heterosexual after all...unless he was writing about what she was wearing. Either way, I'm fine with it. Just keep writing, Champ! PROUD!

So I signed up for Twitter today. I have no idea why. It was just something that happened. I wonder if I am being mind controlled? I knew that DVR was trouble! I signed up then I realized I really don't want to know what famous people are doing. I would like to follow my friends though cause they are always good for a laugh. If only I could actually find them. I think I'd also like to follow my favorite authors and everyone I think is funny. I just want to laugh. I checked out @dooce and @finslippy right away cause they are hysterical. Any suggestions? There was a link to TwitWit which is a contest blah blah blah, but the cool thing on TwitWit was reading the most humorous posts. ("I wish they made martini glasses in a different shape so they wouldn't spill when I ride the bus." HA!) I wish I could just follow that. I already hate myself for reading snippets of gossip on my home page. Why, oh why, must I torture myself by putting on my sheep costume? Cause it feels so good? MY Real World 2009, the internet.

Monkey has been a constant source of "dry" fodder lately. The other day he says to me "Mom, how do you know that Indy is a boy?" (Cause he lifts his leg, duh!) "Oh, wait! I know!" he says. "It's because he's nuts. Boys are nuts and girls aren't, right?" WHAT??? "That's right, honey." No I did not say that! I said, "Where did you get that idea?" after I scraped myself up off the floor and wiped the tears from my eyes. "I just know it," he replied. OMG. HE'S A DAMN GENIUS. A few hours later I thought he didn't say cause boys HAVE nuts, did he? Then later I was running the bath water for him and took a break to pee. He comes into the bathroom Au natural and says "What do you have down here?" and he points to his privates. "Ummmm. Well,..." So he says, "Hair right? But how do you pee?" I say, "Well, I already told you about the 'baby door'**, right? There's another hole near that one that pee comes out of." He could barely stand up from laughing. Like I was making it all up. He thinks I'm a riot. I can not wait to tell him this stuff when he gets older. I also can't wait to drop the bomb that he borrowed an old purse to take Legos in to his first cub scout den meeting. He also wanted to wear his "MOM" necklace he had made but I stopped him. Bwhahahahaha!

I am having the worst pain in my left hip and am having a bit of trouble walking. I can't lay or sit comfortably AGAIN. I'm still running the fever. I am so angry stomp my feet pissed off about this. When does it end? It's been 11 months on the antibiotics. I am still exhausted. WTF? I have a doctor's appointment in Mobile (4 hours away) in a few weeks. I'm interested to see what the doctor has to say about this. Calling Greg House...

*So I have been invited to join a class The Artist's Way: A 12-week Course in Discovering and Recovering your Creative Self,based on Julia Cameron’s international best-seller, The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. Creativity is not the possession of a select few, but a divine spark within each of us. When we move toward our creativity, we unlock the divine in our lives. Join this Creative Cluster to experience simple, fun practices that can transform your life. Find out more about the creative cluster and how the process works: http://www.theartistsway.com/tools/creative-clusters. I am really excited to see just what this all about. Hopefully, I will be able to dampen down any anxiety I feel about having to get dressed and leave the house. I guess I should crack the book tonight and make sure the xanax prescription is filled.

**Two years ago Monkey had a teacher that was pregnant. He spent day after day speculating just how that thing was gonna get out. He was pretty sure the belly button had something to do with it. So I told him there was a door, the baby door, on girls for babies to come out. I have no problem with actually saying the word "vagina", but I don't want him lightly dropping it into conversation with his buddies over goldfish crackers and juice. It's not that I don't think he can understand the complexities of the human body because I'm sure he can. I just don't trust his discretion.

We have the goosebumps (molluscum contagiousum) on the run! He only has several spots left. We have alternated foul smelling antibacterials, antivirals and anti fungals and it has worked! The ringworm is gone too. It occurred to me that he was taking a 10 day course of antibiotics for the dog bite when the pandemic occurred. I had run out of probiotics in the middle there so he may not have been covered. That's what antibiotics will do to you! Turn you into Elepephantman Jr! Of course, I am thankful they kill dog germs too. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

After the book store we ran by the cub scout headquarters to pick up a complete uniform for Monkey (and some marbles, "for my collection, Mom!"). So $75.00 bucks later I can not get the phrase "Hitler Youth" out of my head. I mean it. I have no idea why. It must be the neckerchief. I am so sorry cub scouts for being a hater, but there is something in me that feels all wrong. I can't describe it. I know that after we have the fishing derby and build a wood race car I'll feel better about it. I think. I hope. Bringing you the leaders of tomorrow, one Montauk Project at a time. Before writing in his DIARY he ripped that uniform out of the bag and put it on. Then he said, "Can we go hiking now?" and "Mom, why don't you teach me more pledge stuff?" Wait a minute here. He wants to try on clothes and memorize stuff? Let me see your ID!

He has a new obsession with the ice age. (More books!!!) He is also formulating theories on what actually caused the dinosaurs extinction. Maybe the planet broke apart and the dinosaurs had no oxygen. That's where we got Pluto***...it was originally part of the Earth! Good one. Now prove it! Now that he knows the term "theory" I am pumping him full of pennies like a bubblegum machine to see what trickles out next. Most sentences begin with "When I'm an archaeologist...". I. LOVE. HIM.

***I can't even begin to explain whether Pluto is a planet or not to him. He keeps asking and I won't commit either way. When I was little, it was. Now, not so much. The truth is out there. "Listen, son. Our country can't agree on anything except that Kanye West is an asshole. Who knows about Pluto?"

Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Heart Outside My Body

You know it's cold season (or that I have a cold) when every load of laundry out of the dryer comes with a shredded tissue. Oh people, I do try. Them tissues is sneaky! It's my fault really for always sticking them up my sleeve like my grandmother (or in my bra...or in my waistband. Not all pajamas have pockets, you know!)

I don't want you to get the idea that all I do is bitch about how unwell we are (we are) or ooooo! the kitchen is a mess again (it is) or the damn dog ate another lego (he did). Sometimes, even daily mind you, happiness and tender moments creep in and rear their pretty little misshapen heads. It's mostly when the child is QUIET and sleeping, but there they are never-the-less.

Sometimes when he is running around hell bent for leather chasing the dog or bouncing from couch to pile of pillows ass over teacup or composing his next great novel he yells out "Mom, guess what!" Because that is probably the fiftith time I have heard it the past hour I growl "What?????" or "What now????" or "Yeah?" And he yells, "I love you!", and continues on his merry way. That's when everything just stops for a second and there is silence in my brain and I suck in my breath. I never see it coming. It's not rare, just always unexpected. That's the moment when I am NOW. Everything goes tunnel vision and I have crystal clarity of that exact moment.

Every time I chelate him I sleep in his bed. I gave him my queen size so he has room to throw himself around nocturnally or jump his brains out during the daylight. This summer he started to be petrified of the dark and of being alone. This phase has yet to pass. So we spent night after night with him terrified running to my room or to the computer, depending on the time, in blind fear. After the first 4 years of his life (before the sensory therapy) with him not sleeping much at all and getting no sleep myself I was uninterested in revisiting this particular ELE, or extinction-level event. So I've been sleeping with him for months. I know, I am a terrible mother. As long as I sleep with him though I can usually sleep the WHOLE WAY through the night. That said, I don't care what you think. Sleep is My Preeeeeciousssss. So there. Anyway, he giggles almost every night in his sleep when he's not kicking and hitting me. It's amazing that I can't hear the alarm or phone when I'm sleeping, but the giggling wakes me right up enough to smile.

The other night I was laying with with my arm over him and the dog in between us. They were both sound asleep. It occurred to me how these are the beings that depend on me for their very lives. They trust me and need me. How special that makes me feel to be trusted with THEIR LIVES. What an awesome responsibility. What a reward to have that trust. The day to day grind of letting the dog out, combing the kid's hair, making his lunch, picking out his clothes, feeding the dog, etc. can be a real drag. When it is handed to you like a medal though as a job, as a reward, as a gift it is like the Nobel Prize...or like the medal Luke and Han got after blowing up the Death Star...or like...motherhood. Just amazing.

My poor kid. He doesn't know if he is coming or going. I plaster so much medicine on him four times a day he can't sit on his knees, scratch his face or roll over. We got issues. Thank you internet for knowing exactly what to do though! Let me preface this disgusting bit of info with saying that just because I have to clean the toilet with a screw driver or the kitchen looks like a meth lab we don't necessarily have hygiene issues. We've got six year old boy issues. Last year he got ringworm above his eyebrow. (No, it's not real worms. Google it.) He got it from Tae Kwon Do. That'll teach you to meditate with your head on the floor. So we got that cleared up with some Lotrimin after a few weeks and lots of circle band-aids. Then this summer he got it again inside his right arm. He had to wear a life jacket at the YMCA till he was able to swim. The same life jackets that every other dirty wet kid had on. The same life jackets that hang damp 24 hours a day on a rack. Plus he would wear his wet swim suit home without changing first. Did I mention this kid does not know how to dry himself off? No? So after more Lotrimin and Spiderman band-aids (so as not to RE-infect the general population) we got that cleared up.

At the beginning of the summer I noticed a skin tag like thing on his knee. Harmless, not itchy, not spreading anywhere wart-like dot minding it's own business. Since I had to spend lots of time on the internet searching up the original ringworm infection and what to do about it and then loads more time trying to diagnose my shingles (damn you, shingles!) I came across a picture of bumps on the knee like that. I just breezed by the info though because ours was not a problem...yet. So a few weeks ago I notice a few more skin tag thingees. Then last week I notice about TWENTY ...and one on THE OTHER KNEE. It jumped continents! We got a pandemic here!

So the internet tells me this is called molliscum contagiousum. (We've since renamed it goosebumps cause that's less "contagiousum".) It's common in little kids. It will clear up on it's own...in a year or TWO. You can go by the dermatologist and get it frozen off of sliced off. It's not itchy. It's contagious with open wound contact, like most things. Except it can spread...LIKE A PANDEMIC ON YOUR BODY. Okay, so the internet didn't say it like that. I read on a mothering board about just how it can spread. And after 20 pages or so of pictures AND HALF OF THEM WERE ON THE GENITALS I decided we had better do something. I don't want Monkey to have his genitals on the internet. I'm not being crazy overprotective Munchhausen mom here. There was one and then there were TWENTY. Believe me there were horror stories of scars and shunning amongst the kiddos on the message board.

So I made notes (on my iPhone!) and off we went to the health food store. Yes, you guessed it, everything smells bad. "Mom, I'm going to vomit!!!! What is that smell???" But we have been applying gross stuff four times a day and we have progress! Little bumps are gone and the big ones are soon on their way. He didn't bathe for four days because hot baths could make it worse. Shut up! Of course I washed him off in the meantime! Guess what doesn't help ringworm? Not Showering. So tonight as I tucked him in I notice a new dry patch above his eyebrow. F! F! F! It's back. So I grab the Lotrimin and we will nip this in the bud immediately. UNBELIEVABLE. He says to me "Mom. My forehead is itchy." I say, "I know, but that's not the ringworm spot." So have I turned him into a sissy? He's afraid to scratch himself? All I know is you will not be viewing his genitals on any online dermatological site. And don't hug your child to your breast like that. His shorts completely cover his knees because he is so hip (short.)

Lately I've been dreaming that I have a boyfriend. I saw an old boyfriend's picture the other day and now I've dreamed that he's my current boyfriend every time I go to sleep. Nothing racy, just that he IS my boyfriend. The whole time I'm dreaming I'm thinking, this is soooo complicated! I wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something? Just what would it be trying to tell me? It's time to look for a boyfriend or don't bother cause it's soooo complicated? To be honest there's no way I could have a boyfriend when I can barely get along with myself. How would anyone else be expected to manage? I've already been married, and it is soooo complicated. I was talking to an acquaintance that ask me if I had one. Which was a nice change because no one ever asks. I guess I'm just supposed to be this way. Of course maybe it's because I'm completely nuts and repulsive. I'd like to think it's just because I've already dated everyone worth dating. (Is that possible? Well, I dated alot once upon a time.) I will have to revisit this idea when I actually see someone that makes me think I am not, as feared, asexual. (Google it.)

Guess what's better than plain old ear plugs. My iPhone! I'm thinking of you and nothing else as I dance around the kitchen and scrub the counters. Blissful full volume "I can't hear you" silence.

You know, even Typhoid Mary had a mother. She would totally want you to check this out:


Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Enter The Sandman

I can't wait to see the x-ray of the spot near my right temple where my endless hacking cough has caused an aneurysm. "Look, right there it is!" I have had a cold for the past two weeks. Thanks volunteering in the school library! It's not a bad cold, just a relentless one. It's just a cough and copious amounts of mucus in huge phlegm balls. I mean, it's not even green or tinged highlighter yellow, just clear ginormous quantities of spit and snot from my lungs. I just took a bit more of the cough syrup, and will now experience another sleepless night of tossing and turning and waking up all damp and cold. Did I mention I have a fever too? Unrelated to the cold though. Total lyme flare-up or die-off, you choose because I've got no earthly idea what the hell is happening in the quantum crevices of my body. Oh, now I have your attention...

Soooo, like, I haven't written in forever. Sorry you few people who were kind enough to attempt to follow my gaseous prattling! (I had Taco Bell today in case you were wondering.) I think about writing everyday. Then I remember my life is going down hill so rapidly I really don't have the energy to document it. Who cares how depressed I am that I feel like crap daily again and am so tired that I am kind of sleeping in 3 hour shifts around the clock. I have had a fever again for a good three weeks. Low grade, as if the difference is consequencial at this point. Something is going on in there and it is tearing me up and creating utter destruction to this small social life I have attempted to build. Okay, it's really Monkey's social life I'm managing, but I was building on it, damn it.

I will recap for you our summer in case you even wondered what wacky nonsense the kid and I were engaging in in all our free time. I was out walking the dog the other night, late, around the church parking lot next to our house. It's well lit, but isolated so I frequently entertain myself with thoughts of being murdered and left for dead while I hustle the dog to do his business. Occassionally there will be a lone car parked in a dark corner. Several times it was the same dirty mini van with no license plate filled with boxes and a bible on the dash. Ominous, no? One day walking the dog the van pulled from behind the church and passed within feet of me. Creepy guy driving stuck his head out the window and said "This is my church in case you were wondering." Right. I'm sure the church lets you sleep in their parking lot occassionally. Perfectly normal. So anyway, the other night I'm walking Indy and there is a jeep parked behind the church. This is at around 10:30PM. So my thoughts of mugging and murder start up, and I realize two things. One, when they find my mangled body I will be wearing a HIGHLANDER tee shirt with a circle of historical swords on it and won't the detectives laugh hysterically? And two, I need to have a better head shot of myself so when they run my picture on the news I don't look like a complete dork. Oh, yeah...and three, no one on the internet will know what I did this summer cause I've been so slack. Gotta post something.

What We Did: the highlights

1. I solved the mystery of what the itching leg was all about! Priceless! It was effing SHINGLES. Good Lord, do wonders never cease? I got shingles. It wasn't as bad as it could have been I suppose, but it was no picnic either. Shingles: Herpes zoster (shingles) is a painful, blistering skin rash due to acute infection with the varicella-zoster virus, the virus that causes chickenpox. Herpes zoster may affect any age group, but it is much more common in adults over 60 years old, in children who had chickenpox before the age of one year, and in individuals whose immune system is weakened. Well, imagine that. My immune system is weakened? Nooooooooo, not me! At least, the scars will always be a nice conversation starter. The active shingle thingee finally did go away, and only occasionally do I get the phantom itching. I guess I'm lucky. Yes, lucky ole me! And when I got better...

2. I had a secret yard sale! I got Monkey's friend to let him stay the night and the next day while he was at YMCA camp (canoeing, roasting marshmallows and swimming) I attempted to sell a bunch of his toys he was having separation issues with. So after the ad in the paper and license, (yes, we're serious here in Bama about our yard sales and the law) I made about $25.00. Totally not worth it. I wasn't TIRED AT ALL (snort), and it was the day before we left for...

3. Our trip to Pennsylvania! 15 hours in the car with dog and kid. Staying with family! Visiting long lost friends thanks to facebook! Parties for my business. It was the best three weeks of the summer...if you don't include the trip up or the trip home. Monkey did better in the car than usual. By that I mean that he didn't talk my leg off the whole entire time. I made him listen to books on tape (which he did talk through), and play nintendo ds and watch movies. The dog had a few bouts of howling his head off for no apparent reason. Although, we did discover the reason was that his chew bone had fallen out of the cage, and Monkey's all "I have no idea what's wrong with him because I might have to turn my head or feel around with my hand on the floor and that would be tragic."

Suffice it to say I really love my friends from high school. High school may have really sucked, but I did a good job of picking my friends. Shout out, Altoona! My family was awesome too. Monkey got to spend lots of time with my cousin's kids and I painted a camping/outdoorsy mural for my cousin's new baby. We went fishing on the boat with my dad. Indy got to play with Pop and Nana's new dog, Bailey, the entire time. There was swimming and family dinners and Grand Nana and meeting my cousin's fiance. Fun! I even went to church with a friend which pretty much means we've come full circle from 20 years ago, and I couldn't be happier about it.

My dad took Monkey to numerous yard sales while we were there. He has talked endlessly about having his own now, and did make a small attempt in my dad's garage. The irony!

The only thing not so great about the trip was that Monkey didn't really get to spend any time with his cousins. My step brother and wife kind of hate me. Long story. It's not really fair to talk about it here cause they aren't here to defend themselves. Let's just say I'm not patriotic enough. So not asking my son to spend any time with their kids seems kind of low. He's patriotic! I hope that in the future Monkey will get to spend some time with the kids because they are great kids and he and I love them.

3. So my birthday was in August. 39 years old. It was a really nice day of doing nothing, my favorite, and perusing facebook for birthday wishes...which was really uplifting. I did get some money as gifts this year. It was a whole $300.00 smackers that I should have put to bills or therapy or something productive, but there was the "get yourself something nice" thing. So I did, and suffered tons of guilt. Which leads me to...

4. MY NEW iPHONE!!!! That's right! I rock. I am mobile. I am jacked in ALL THE TIME. I have gone over to the dark side willingly and with a smile on my face. I don't care if the EMF kills me. Next thing you know I'll be getting a chipped passport I'm feeling so crazy! I'm practically a Sith Apprentice! The guilt kicks in right about...

5. When I found out the deductible at the emergency room was gonna be $300.00. Oh God, you so crazy messin wit me like this! We went to movie night at a friend's house, and just as we were about to leave Monkey scared their dog and got a bite above his lip. It was a misunderstanding between the two of them....you know, dog sleeping wakes up with 6 year old boy on his face. So we call Neenie and pick her up on the way to Children's hospital at 10:00PM on a Saturday night. I've got LOADS to say about this little odyssey as you can imagine. But for now let me just say he got the stitches (2), he didn't have to get a shot (although they begged and cajoled) and he's healed up nicely. We got home around 5 fucking AM. Did I mention I had just dropped cash on a new shirt for his school picture which was 4 days later? Oh God, you so crazy! My guilt was sort of abated when our friends covered the deductible which was way above and beyond. Thank you! Which brings me to...

6. First grade! School here in Alabama starts way too damn early. August 11Th. Monkey is loving it, and has met his soul mate (she doesn't know it yet) in the very next seat. Oh, she's a beauty. He woke me up at 3AM Friday night to tell me he missed Anabel. He woke me at 5AM Saturday to tell me he missed Anabel. He's got it so bad he said he'll be drawing a hundred pictures of her. We've only got one on the fridge right now. Men! His mouth is already writing checks his ass can't cash.

I got him a new pair of Keen sandals cause they have to be able to wear them for gym. I thought it would be as close as we could get to his favorite crocs. After a few days it became apparent that we had to order a new pair of Keen sneakers because he doesn't like the bark from the playground getting in his shoes. If I said "sissy" right now, would you hate me?

So the cub scouts made the rounds the first week and totally sold my kid that he HAD TO BE a cub scout. They promised a fishing lure so it had to be totally worth the $100.00 bucks up front, right? So, yes, I caved and he's "offisal!" I do have to say though that I am not pleased with all the pledging and uniform neckerchief, etc. I just am wary of indoctrinating the youth. He's too young to really grasp it all. But what the hell, I've gone over to the dark side already. Welcome to the cult! I know, this should be good for little boys right? Don't hate me cause I want to protect my kid from EVERYTHING...and I really don't want to be a cub scout myself. First graders must have their adult present at all times. So I'm fishing, I'm camping, I'm making a flag and spirit something or others...but I get no badges. I demand a heavy lifting badge! Speaking of heavy lifting...

7. I am spending way too much time talking about Legos, reading about Legos, tripping on Legos, and going to the Lego store. Thanks Lego for opening your Birmingham Coven. We'll be worshipping there often. Damn you, and your not having the Batman Legos Monkey NEEDS immediately yesterday right now! Bastards!

So that about sums it up. We did some other fun stuff, Monkey finally learned to swim and is pretty good at it (he doesn't drown) and I'm sick again. Monkey's dad is 8 months behind in the child support and counting. Please say a nice prayer for him that he gets his shit together.

I wish I had some Unsolicited Advice to give you, but the only thing that comes to mind is to watch out for the Gatorade. It's like crack to a 6 year old. As far as It's a Mystery goes, the only one I have right now is how I am managing to survive everyday stepping over more piles of crap, coughing my brains out and not just setting the whole place on fire.

Peace out!

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Out of Pocket

Oh, my friends, it's been too long. Sorry about that. It's been a month since I spilled this radioactive waste in my head out into the Internet. This has been the busiest month I've had in years...literally. I had to get the house cleaned to have a party to start my business, and that was like cleaning up 4 years of dust and dirt I've been turning a blind eye to. Since I usually only get several hours a day that I can function optimally, it took forever. I was so nervous I thought I should just go find a tall bridge...then I looked around and realized I was sitting beside super glue, nail polish remover and an open flame and I got a grip pretty quick. Then there was the time I needed to recover from the cleaning and party. With Monkey home from school it's been chaotic trying to entertain him endlessly (or hide) so that the whining will stop for a few minutes. Damn Wii ball and chain.

Let's recap:

1. Swim lessons! Monkey is STILL taking the swim lessons at the Y. He started with 6 in May and he should have been done before school was out. The weather was stormy though alot of afternoons so we've been rescheduling alot. One consequence of that was that our teacher was accidentally double booked. No big deal, right? No one's on fire, the world is not going to end because of a 30 minute mix-up. Well, the other mom, let's call her "Medusa", tried to extract a pound of flesh from our teacher. I sat and watched this little wiry white woman fold our big black dreadlocked swim teacher into an origami box. I don't think her kid ever got his lesson cause she was bitching for so long, and the rest of the time the teacher was wringing his hands being paralyzed by indecision about how to placate her. I was like, "Monkey! Free swim time! Cool!" So we signed up for more lessons...

2. Reading Binge! I've been reading alot again. I shouldn't have done it. I pick up a book and I am transported out of this place, and I have an awful time dragging myself home. I read one of those Sookie Stackhouse novels, and then I had to read them all. They weren't even that good, but I couldn't stop till I got the whole story. No offense to Charlaine Harris. I mean, I would never take issue with someone's writing considering they actually wrote something. In and of itself, writing an entire novel is amazing and very impressive to me.

3. Car trouble! Burnt valve. Sound serious? Sound about $2500.00 serious? Like, twice the actual value of my car? Well, crap. That was an entire week of worry. My poor "Birdy". She was a pretty little Volvo wagon I've had since Monkey was 5 months old. She was paid for too. Bummer. Anyway, we got a new car. "Rocko", is a 2005 Volvo SUV. He's like a short muscular guy with no neck. Not alot of room inside it seems cause there's so much leather and seating, but big on the outside. Monkey and I miss the boxiness of our old car, but we love actually being able to go places. Monkey said that when we take our trip to Pennsylvania this summer he won't even need a suitcase. "Look, I've got these secret compartments!" (Yes, two compartments in the very back smaller than shoe boxes!) I took it to the bank tonight and let Indy ride along. He slides right across that leather like it was greased if you turn too quick. Oops.

4. Painting! What the hell has gotten into me? I've been on a painting kick too. Tables, canvases, anything that doesn't move I've been painting. When I sit down I need to do so with a notebook so I can draw because my hand wants to feel like it's painting. It's like my brain has stored up thoughts and images my entire life and someone just turned the printer on. I gotta figure out what to do with all this artwork. It's been nice though feeling passionate about something. Monkey paints with me too. This is not conducive to actually accomplishing much painting, but I chalk it up to quality time and pat myself on the back. I have a hard time expressing in an "I'm-not -completely-nuts" way how much I love color. I could stand and look at bedspreads and placemats at Target forever. I feel like aesthetics is a sixth sense. Painting is like food the way I hunger for it, and it fills me up. Eye candy!

5. New job for Neenie! Mom got a new job and quit the old one. She's been off all week. Lot's of sleeping going on trying to recharge her batteries. Change is never easy and often scary. I will say more about this in (cryptic) detail later because I would love to expound on what huge assholes some corporate people are, but how wonderful the little people in the trenches are. Good for you, Neenie! It's still sad though cause she worked with really nice people that will be missed.

6. Newsweek! I hate you. You are so stupid. So there.

It's a Mystery!:

7. Autism! After school was over things started to go down hill for Monkey. He was whiny. He was unhappy all the time which is very unlike his normal happy-go-lucky demeanor. He refused to eat much at all. He looked sick. Neenie noticed it too. He was uncontrollable. He was not listening. He was misbehaving. He reverted to his animal tourrets behavior around grown ups. His speech was really poor too with complete sounds and letters missing from words. It was like we had taken two huge steps forward this year and now we had taken a step back. I worried that maybe it was swimming. Spending time in the chlorinated water is a complication for someone that doesn't detoxify as well as the rest of us. So we decided it's time to reevaluate what's worked and get a new game plan. He's plateaued. I've heard there is a doctor in town that does neurobiofeedback with autistic kids. I've called her, and I am waiting to hear about it. (Does anyone have any experience with this?) I'd like to go back and do more sensory therapy, but it is so outrageously expensive we are waiting. I'm just praying up a storm over this. It's so hard spending time with him knowing that something is not right and feeling helpless. He's been at Lego Robotics camp all week, and I've been twisted in knots fretting about how he's interacting with the other kids. But really, it's legos and all kids are goofy.

8. Lyme! Goddamn lyme. Be careful what you wish for! I spent a month saying that I was having no improvement from the 7th month of antibiotics, but no die-off either. Then, boom! Fevers. Mystery itching. Exhaustion like a ton of bricks. It's like an episode of House in my brain. If I didn't know what was wrong I would be saying "What the hell is wrong with me? I feel awful." It started about 7 days ago as an itch on my left thigh. (My left side is where all the problems are.) Then there were broken blood vessels and petechiae under the skin. Then it moved to the inside of my leg. There was no rash. No heat. It's a mystery! I can not accurately describe the feeling. It's like my leg is numb, but hypersensitive. It's worked it's way down to my knee and up to my hip. I'm terrified I'm gonna wake up and not be able to walk. It hurts to be touched and once again I can't sit or lie comfortably. It's not the muscle or my joints. It just effing hurts. I hope there is just a huge die-off happening in there and that stuff is working it's way out. I'm kind of half-expecting an alien baby to pop out of my leg. Today, there is a raised rash. I've consulted the nurse (Neenie), and she concurs it's not scabies or poison ivy or blood clots or shingles or anything like that. What the hell though? I've heard the recovery from Lyme is like peeling an onion. That you go back through your symptoms reverse order as die-off occurs. My hip and left leg were some of the first symptoms I had 25+ years ago. So, good, right? Well, it doesn't make it any easier I can tell you. I'm surviving.

So I don't want to bore you with a thesis of the roller coaster shit storm of June, and Xanax is whispering in my ear that's it's time for bed. I missed you, Internet. Let's do lunch real soon, k?

Unsolicited Advice!:

This was a really nice poem that was in one of the cards she got from work, and I'd like to share it with you.

Giving Up and Letting Go

Giving up implies a struggle, Letting go implies a partnership.

Giving up dreads the future, Letting go looks forward to the future.

Giving up lives out of fear, Letting go lives out of grace and trust.

Giving up is defeat, Letting go is victory.

Giving up is yielding control to powers beyond myself, Letting go is choosing to yield to forces within myself.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Two Roads Diverged

You know what I can't get enough of? Cleaning up dog vomit. It's exciting! If I can I like to start my day out with the fresh smell of enzymatic cleaner. Mmmmm.

Some days are bad. Some days are really bad. Today was somewhere in the middle. I know not all days have to fall on this small scale. Why just last month I had four days, four really good days right in a row! That is more than the last three years put together, so I know it's possible. For about five minutes I thought "Oh my God. I'm a cheerleader. I'm one of those happy people I hate. How amazingly awesome! What a shock! I didn't see this one coming!" Then it was gone just as rapidly as it had appeared. Unfortunately, this makes the days that aren't so bad suck just a little bit more. I had it! It was energy! And now I am just back to being exhausted for no reason, overwhelmed by sunlight and brought to tears by the idea that the day stretches out before me and must be endured and not enjoyed. Please don't tell me to just get over it. Will power is just not possible. Attitude and mindset I have control over, and yes, I am hopeful instead of dejected. But I am just a little bit pissed off that all the things that I would like to be able to accomplish today are just insurmountable thanks to the black wave of exhaustion. I can not turn black to white. "There is no spoon!" I was talking to another lyme sufferer today. It's like looking in a mirror. I hate it for her. I wish I could help, but all I can do is say that I get it. I get it! We are sooooo tired.

This summer is shaping up to be an odyssey of what can he think up next. This weekend it was collecting Lego Bionicles. Monkey cajoled and begged for two days to please get him just one more! He painted Bionicle pictures. He made a Bionicle movie. Which is your favorite Bionicle, Mom? Guess which one I am, Mom! The next day we were on to Thomas. Just get me the wooden track out. Just find me the cars. Just help me find this piece. I'm gonna add the plastic track. I need more batteries. The next day it was I need a box. I want a racecar that turns into a clubhouse. Can I go out in the garage? Mom, I'm gonna clear a path. Mom, I'm gonna need two more hands for this...I just made it to the ladder. Oh, Mom, I knocked the bikes over, but that was an accident. So it ends up with me in the garage building a clubhouse/racecar with a cardboard box, razor knife and masking tape at 8PM. I hate you fucking Noggin. I need a secret door. I need a fire door. There should be a dog door. Two windows above the front door. Where's the mailbox? You can't even stand up in this box. What do you need so many doors for? Tomorrow he wants me to teach him to sew. More shit I gotta drag out just so I can argue with him about cleaning it up 4 hours later. Ahhh, summer. Good times, good times.

So I have been in serious hiding for about 3 years. I didn't really interact with people and kind of lost touch with friends. Nobody wants to see you crying all the time. So as I make my way back into society I have hoped that I have changed. I left my corporate job because I had started hating who I was becoming. I hated people. People irked me. I wasn't nice anymore. I'd like to think that stepping out of my life for awhile has afforded me with a perspective not many people get the opportunity to have; not a reinvention, but a clean start. I'd like to think I have changed. Guess what! People, not so much. Still dumb as rocks. So this is where the roads diverged...what do I do now???

I swung by Headstart before swim lesson to surprise Monkey with a hair cut. Surprise! You're getting one. March, Mister! As I am reading a magazine I hear someone talking behind me. Old lady is there with even older lady who turns out to be her mother. Talking to strangers with whom I have not initiated conversation is gonna make my neck hurt. Please don't be talking to me.

Old Lady: "So how old is he?"

Me: "He's 6."

OL: "Before you know it he'll be in high school."

Me: "I know, but this summer every day feels like forever."

OL: "Is he your only one?"

Me: Snort. "Yes."

OL: "I only had one too. It was selfish. They get lonely."

Me: "I know." Stop right there.

OL: "You'll end up playing with him all the time."

Me: "Yep. I do. I know." Eye twitch.

OL: "Hasn't he asked you for more yet? A brother or a sister?"

Me: "Yes. I got him a dog."

OL: Tight-lipped smirk.

Me: "I explained that he would only get half of what he has now. His toys would have to be divided. He's with me on this one. It's not worth it." Shut up.

OL: "They have to learn to share. They just have to...not be selfish."

Me: "Yep. I was an only child and I'm perfectly fine with it."

OL: "Well, I still think it's selfish." Dumb as a bag of hammers. Shut it.

Me: "I have syphilis. I hear that it's a bad idea to have more kids."

Okay, I didn't really say that, but I should have.

Me: "Well, since I'm not living on a farm and have no need of many kids to milk the cows and build fences and take care of the little ones I think I'll just stick with one. I met my quota. Biological imperative met."

Okay. I didn't say that either. But I thought it.

Me: "Oh, I'd love to have more! But no husband and no job! I live with my mother. Autism and lyme disease. Why risk it so HE HAS A PLAYMATE? Oh, but yeah, more kids. My dream. I'd hate to be thought of as selfish. And if he even ever suggests it, like your lonely douchebag of a kid, when he's older and saying he wishes he had a brother I will beat him with a tire iron." Smile.

So do I hate myself for hating her? Do I just hate her? I'm just gonna say "Bless her heart" which is Southern code for "Fuck you, whack job." Yeah, I can live with that. Is that the road less traveled? I'm too tired to worry about it. Why do you think Frost spent so much time writing? People are tools. Stupid metaphors.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Dream a little dream of martyrdom

So the holiday weekend has come and gone. It was really just more of the same except there was macaroni salad. Schools been out now for five days and Monkey is B-O-R-E-D. I'm sure I am clinically insane at this point after hearing my name called a gazillion times and the incessant talking. Not like the drip of a faucet talking, but more like the Niagara Falls of talking. It's been raining and I've been lacking the energy to get out. So here we sit in our pajamas with me feigning deafness and Monkey claiming that "I can't find it!", "I need help!", "More juice!". We did go to WalMart this weekend, but after that 2 hour trip to Dante's Inferno I've decided to just become a recluse...again. "DING! Fourth Level: breast feeding right next to your kid, wild goose chase for Instant Breakfast and pepperoni that was never available anyway. DING! Fifth Level: crazy librarian lady buying $550.00 in gift cards in five dollar increments in front of you in line for 20 minutes you'll never get back, trapped in toy section deciding between one of four Bionicles with spoiled kid near tears. Thanks for shopping Hell".

I'm not sure if it's the weather or some strange electrical field passing under our house, but the dreams are getting interesting. The other night I dreamed I was planning a party for Bill Clinton and the only weekend he could do it was the weekend I was leaving for a visit to Pennsylvania. Last night I dreamed I was helping John Cusack market his new fragrance, "Ace". He was like, "I know it's a dorky name, but I like it." Damn, I'm busy with work and famous people in my sleep. I heard Monkey say in his sleep "Two dogs...new shirts...". (I know he was dreaming because there is no way in hell we're adding another dog into the mix.)

There is so much around here that needs to be accomplished, but once again I am so exhausted. I'm praying for energy left and right. I put light bulbs in the impossible to reach fixtures today and changed some batteries, and even that was tiring. The power went out for a few minutes this weekend, and now I really need to reset the clocks. It's a half an hour ago in the kitchen, 12:30 perpetually in the den and five minutes from now in Neenie's room. I hate doing math just to figure out what time it is. Like it matters. WHAT-ever. Exhaustion sucks.

I really wish I could round this kid up to help me some. He's like Hansel and Gretel with the toys...and anything he touches. "Oh, look. A koozie. Let me set it beside the computer. Look! The Bissel. I'll put that right here in the middle of the living room. A blanket and pillow. Let me move them to the hallway and stairs....there's not enough to crap to step over in there." Everything he touches must be transported to a new location. I'm tired of this scavenger hunt/maze like lifestyle. My hips hurt from stepping over things. He did make a "chore list" but it only lasted three days.

Here's the list to "earn money". At this point the actual terms of the contract have yet to be negotiated. Picture of contract above. Let's discuss the list:

1) TAKE ThE TASh: [Take out the trash] Trouble carrying backpack from car to house 15 feet. Wondering how large trash bag will make it outside into dumpster and to curb.

2) TAKE A BATh: [Take a bath] Can not distinguish shampoo from soap. Doesn't like to get hair wet. Quantity may be able to be accomplished, but quality is in question. This looks like a freebee as it happens ANYWAY.

3) GiT mi on BeFiCT: [Get my own breakfast] Can not work toaster or microwave. Does not know which door is the refrigerator and which is the freezer. Hates eating. Only gets up 30 minutes before school. Would take him 2 hours just to remember to have breakfast.

4) TAKE ThE DOG: [Take out the dog to pee] Can't work leash to put on dog's collar. Can't get dog to come because said dog is afraid of him. Not allowed to go outside alone.

5) RED A BOK: [Read a book everyday] This one is doable and may eventually help with the spelling!

6) GiT ThE MEL: [Get the mail] Has request a step be installed at mailbox so he can reach into it. Not gonna happen.

7) TAKE A nAP: [Take a nap] Good idea! When can I get paid for this chore? Hasn't napped in months. Apparently, this constitutes a chore to a 6 yr old. Although, some days I would pay for this to happen.

Feel free to submit ideas. I'm not paying more than $5.00 a week. Notice nowhere does it mention pick up his own toys or to quit peeing on the seat.
Today Monkey told me that, and I quote, "It's my life. It's my room. I'm the boss." Something has gone terribly wrong in this house. Someone wants to have a Come to Jesus meeting. Let me go get my can of Whoop-Ass...as soon as I'm done napping.

I'm sorry I'm tired today. I'm sorry I am not accomplishing anything. I just want to lay down. I'm overwhelmed. I hate being sick. It's totally inconvenient. Maybe if I fall asleep Steven Segal will show up and help me diffuse the bomb strapped to the engine of this crazy train. Xanax, take me away.
Unsolicited Advice!:
"One's attitude toward one's self is the single most important factor in healing or staying well."
Ummm...Yeah, yeah. I know. Bite me.
"When we choose to love, healing energy is released in our bodies. Energy itself is loving and intelligent and available to all of us."
Ummm...Translation: Do not duct tape your child's mouth shut or stomp on him in a fit of anger.
"Life can only be understood backward, but must be lived forward."
Ummm...Goddamn Kierkegaard. What an asshole.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Who's driving this train anyway?

Tomorrow is the last day of school! It's almost the end of May! Where has the time gone? It seems like I was just putting away the Christmas decorations. Oh, wait! I was. It seems like just yesterday I walked by the Easter decorations on the kitchen table. Oh, wait! I did! What am I going to do with that little boy all summer? If you see him sitting on the kitchen table just ignore him. I'll put him away as soon as I get to it!
It seems that I may have been too kind in my last post. Do not fear! I am not too kind! I just spent an evening reading blogs and I was feeling very overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and annoyed that the autism issue is so divisive. Can't we all just get along? Apparently not. Everyone seems to be bitching and moaning and sighting this article and that site as proof of conspiracy, as proof of blame, as proof of downright stupidity. I get it. This is life and death. Quality of life versus risk of death. One bad apple, or unvaccinated child, may spoil the whole barrel. Not my backyard! It just sucks the life out of me though to read so much seething hate and name calling from both sides.
Let me make my position clear. I think that vaccinating my child, starting with Hep B on DAY ONE of his little 5 lb. 14oz. life, triggered a chain of events that would not have happened if he had not received any vaccination. I believe that vaccinating him multiple times when he was sick was dangerous. I think the pediatrician should never have vaccinated a sick child. I think the pediatrician should have known better as the literature indicates. I believe that taking a vaccine from a bolus vile that may or may not have been shaken or left in the sunlight or was almost empty thereby having some of the dangerous contents settle to the bottom was hazardous. I think that taking multiple shots on the same day is questionable. I think that combination shots are risky. I think a doctor should have put the signs together to get a quicker and better diagnosis. I believe that I should have read more, payed better attention, listened to my gut and not just blindly followed doctor's suggestions. So instead of ranting and stomping my feet and telling you what a complete fuckwit you are for not believing vaccines cause autism and the government knows it and there's all the scientific proof out there you could ever need to show that autism is not some psychological or neurological disease but an honest to goodness physical illness (which is exactly how I feel) I'll tell you how to make sure you never need to worry about it.
If I had the whole thing to do over again I would do things very differently. I would not have vaccinated my child until he was older. I would only do one at a time. I would never give a combination shot. I would make sure that he was never sick when getting vaccinated. I would make sure that he was given PROBIOTICS every time he had to take an antibiotic. The second that he lost his emerging speech a huge red flag would have gone up. The answer would not have been speech therapy. The second he developed eczema I would not have slapped some prescribed steroid cream on it. I would have had him tested for allergies CORRECTLY, and looked for the cause not the symptom. When he wasn't sleeping for hours in the middle of every night I would not have believed the pediatrician that it was normal. When he had to have enemas more often than not I would not have filled that miralax prescription but instead found a new doctor and practice so that my son was well and not merely medicated...because there is a difference, people! There would have been no psych test and IQ test. When he didn't qualify for occupational therapy, but knocked a hole in the wall and wrote on the office whiteboard with permanent marker during the testing I would have called bullshit!
What if he got autism anyway? Some people think that we can't know one way or the other because he was vaccinated. (Experiment with your own kid then...) Well, then I would have seen the signs and listened to my gut that it was not typical. I hope I would have known that not touching certain objects (grass, sand, tags, icing, textures) is wrong. Toe walking, lining toys up, bouncing and rubbing his body off things, allergies, eczema, constipation, aversion to certain foods, repeated need for antibiotics because of ear infections, lack of eye contact were not okay. I hope I wouldn't have listened to people say that boys develop slower, that speech develops slower in our family, climbing and jumping is normal for boys. When I noticed that he was like Superman with superhuman strength and no crying when he got hurt I hope I would have not just thought he was "all boy". Standing up against a wall when we played hide and seek wouldn't have been cute, it would have raised the flag that he had vision issues. When I felt that we hadn't bonded I hope that I wouldn't have let people laugh me off. I wish I would have listened to my heart when I felt something was wrong. That's what I'm saying. Pay attention because it is an epidemic and I can definitely say it's not just better diagnoses...cause that just ain't so.

Oh, it sounds like I have regrets. I have no regrets. I don't want you to ever have regrets either. Pay attention to the speed bumps! I can't do it over. This was God's plan. I feel comfort in knowing that everything that happened to us happened for a reason. We are strong people with strong character. Enough with the character already, God, geesh. Some people have made peace with their special children. I too would love to have a child with special gifts. He could hold his hand over people's heads to calm them. He could channel the prophets. He could tell me stories about his past life on Mars. Yes, there are kids out there capable of these feats. It will make the hair on your arms stand up. My child however, has a medical condition that is curable. I asked, and he can't remember his past lives. The closest he got was saying that he chose me as his mother. When I asked him why he said "because you love me so much and because you're so pretty." If I had made peace with his "specialness" I would have never heard that. I'm not judging others though. God has a plan for all of us, and my child's special gifts are just different. I'll let you know when I figure out what they are. It's not hitting the toilet, I can tell you that. Monkey is still recovering. Everyday I watch. I've learned that no one else is going to do it for me. No one can ever know him like I do.
I love that my son has started using sayings he's heard me use. (Note to self: potential minefield!!!) I now recognize that I am a complete idiot. In the car he yells "C'mon people!" when the traffic isn't moving fast enough. I heard him tell the dog "I mean business, Mister!" I laughed tonight when I told him we needed to get his jacket out of lost and found tomorrow and he said "By WE you mean ME?" I love the way he renders his action figures unconscious instead of outright death. I even love the way he got a serious look on his face after Sunday school and said "You know, God is controlling EVERYTHING."
I promised you an affirmation when my headache went away. I think it's almost gone. It was 3 day whopper! (An affirmation is an assertion that something is true and a form of prayer that focuses on a positive outcome.) Here you go:

I know there is only one Source, the Life-Principle, from which all things flow. It created the Universe and all things therein contained. I am a focal point of the Divine Presence. My mind is open and receptive. I am a free-flowing channel for harmony, beauty, guidance, wealth and the riches of the Infinite. I know that health, wealth and success are released from within and appear on the without. I am now in harmony with the infinite riches within and without, and I know these thoughts are sinking into my subconscious mind and will be reflected on the screen of space. I wish for everyone all the blessings of life. I am open and receptive to God's riches - spiritual, mental and material - and they flow to me in avalanches of abundance.

Om Namah Shivaya: I honor the Divinity that resides within me.
It's a Mystery!:
I can not seem to get these posts to space properly between paragraphs. There is uncooperation occurring between me and the computer. Sorry. It's a mystery!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Shot through the heart and you're to blame, Baby...

I do not claim to be an expert. I am just an interested party, and as such, I have an opinion. I have spent countless hours researching autism and my own illness. I have read umpteen books and blogs, newsletters and magazines and scientific journals. I have gone to meetings and conventions. I have taken my son to no less than 9 medical practitioners. Because I am an interested party I have tried to do my research so that I can have an opinion, but it is still just my opinion. On this journey I have traveled I have reached many conclusions, but none of them are or will be my final destination. As a parent I must remain vigilant in the search for a healthy, safe life for my child, and as my child's caretaker and last line of defense, good health for myself.

It is almost impossible to stay on top of all the current research being presented by the scientific community and parental think tanks. Many times just reading the opinions of the research, hypothesis' and stories of participants conjures up so much emotion -anger and tears, and old fashion fact checking that it can only be tackled in small increments. To really know and understand autism you must have a rudimentary understanding of science and biochemistry or at least the ability to develop one. Sound insurmountable? Thousands of parents are having to buckle down and be researchers and detectives to fill the gap created by misunderstanding, misinformation, politics and hubris that is the medical community and government.

Did you know that the Giant Panda was unknown to the Western world until 1869? Did you know that blood groups were not discovered until 1901? Some doctors experimented with transfusing blood, but up until 1901 they didn't know why it worked sometimes and not others. Is it unthinkable that there might be some things that we just don't understand yet in 2009? Should we not question and investigate? Is it not possible that maybe we should push the boundaries of what scientific investigation entails? When the accepted tests fail should we not try the therapeutic trial? Because it works for you does that mean it will work for me? Should we buy in to the herd immunity argument? Should we believe everything about vaccines are safe? Even if the actual vaccine itself is safe what about the preservatives and additives? What about the timing of giving vaccines before a child's immune system can adequately respond? What about giving multiple vaccines at the same time? What about the recombinant DNA vaccine which is a product of genetic engineering? Why do we have a vaccine court if vaccines are safe? Do you see what I'm getting at here? We have to ask the right questions.

Oh, I'd love to point the finger at the government. I'd love to have someone to blame. That big freak show we call the CDC is in this up to it's neck, but kicking their ass isn't going to save mine. I'm tired of the who knew what when and the secret meetings. Look at Nancy Pelosi right now. That's right, look at her then you won't be looking at the people who actually did the torturing. The CDC meeting at Simpsonwood in 2000 proves that proof of danger from vaccines was revealed at the conference and then hushed up by government and private industry. But by focusing on the who knew what when and trying to take a fight, this fight, any fight to Capitol Hill we're not seeing the actual grass roots people, scientists and parents, who have the good research to bring recovery to this autism epidemic. Don't worry, Karma is definitely going to be kicking some asses.

Do I think vaccines cause autism? No. Do I think they trigger it? Yes. Do I think that the benefits outweigh the risks? No. Is it black and white? No. Are these the right questions? No.

Today I took my son to a birthday party. One of his friend's older siblings was there. I introduced myself to this tween as Monkey's mother. He says, "Oh. Now I see where he gets it." "Get's what?" I'm almost afraid to ask. "The craziness." Well, sh*t. "What are you talking about?" He says, "I've never met a grown up who was wearing a Ghostbusters t-shirt." So, even though this looks on the surface as a complete faux pas by the teenage fashion police I know he just called my son and me crazy. High strung, funky free-spirited fashion plates that we are I couldn't help but get my feelings a little hurt. I know he didn't mean any harm, and really, I don't want to be seen as typical. Even though that lots of people may not know that Monkey was diagnosed as having autism and has since lost his diagnosis I still fear they'll be able to tell that something is amiss. And sure enough a 12 year old boy may have noticed. At least I feel a little vindicated that I am right to remain vigilant and continue with the B-12 therapy and sensory therapy and detox protocol. I know the rest of the 6 year olds are just as wacky as he is, but I will always be wondering if his behavior is weird in a good way or just weird. I'm okay with not being normal as my wardrobe would indicate, but I'm not okay with my kid falling through the cracks. As far as I'm concerned, normal is for people who didn't reach their full potential. We're shooting for the stars, my Monkey and me. Good health will give us the ability to do nearly anything we can conceive. Our health is priceless...although it seems to cost a whole hell of alot.

There are tons of wonderful mommy blogs out there about autism and lots that just compile all the info for your perusal. I can only tell you how we got Monkey from there to here. I can tell you how blessed we are. I can tell you what to read and who to talk to. I can tell you who to go tell cram it. And I don't give anything when they ask for donations at the cash registers for autism research. I always just say that I gave 2 lives already and we're doing our own research, you're welcome very much. It's going to be up to you if you choose to roll the dice or not. You need to remember what you are gambling with.

Just tell me what you need to know and I can point you in the right direction. I just talked to a friend today with a 13 year old with autism who was undiagnosed until 2 years ago. Guess what! She lived in Connecticut before he was born and she contracted Lyme there about 6 months before she had him. Hmmmmm. We've got to ask the right questions...by just talking to each other. So, talk to me, Goose...

We ain't 'fraid of no ghosts!