Friday, February 12, 2016

The F Word




                        
                           
    
The F word as in f-u-c-k.  A word that I might use loosely on-line and only recently in my 30's begun to use slowly in my real-real life. Still I hesitate to actually say it most time because there's always impressionable children around me. Often my road rage language consist of words like, Poopie-Head, What a pooper scooper, and Qui-chi (not to be confused with quiche). I don't know exactly what language that is. Spanish? Native? Don't know. But it sounds hilarious when my Grandma uses it. It roughly translates to something defective and when I really, really want to say 'Fuck'n piece of shit' in front of my kids I just say 'Qui-chi-Qui-chi'.

I'm not really sure that my PC words are any better the other day Talulah came home with a note from the teacher saying "...it's not nice to call people Poopie-Heads".  
Hashtag Mother of the year award.  

Oh but it it's gets better! Mostly I've got my shit together but to all the parents out there who have a child on the spectrum you know that pick-up time is extremely stressful and you don't mean it to be but your emotions are a very thin layer away of showing its crying ugly head. It feels like...it feels like...it feels probably much like Katnis Everdeen hopping her name doesn't get called and almost always in my case when it rain it pours. Day 3 of pick-up run down of what the day was like for N-Zilla. Qui-chi. Day 3 of driving back and forth to hospital for Crazy Horse. Qui-chi-Qui-chi and then it happened, the sweetest voice explained to me that N-Zilla said the /F/ word at school. Fantastic? Fabulous? No, not those kind of /F/ words. I couldn't believe it. N-Zilla says a lot of things but fuck was not one of them. Very fast the anxious frantic version of myself was fact checking everything in my head. He does say freak'n but it's allowed it's the same as Poopie-Face. Right? Is freak'n the same as fuck? Oh-My-Goodness it probably is. What kind of monster am I?

"Thank you for telling me, I will talk to him but I don't think he said fuck maybe freak'n?"

Meanwhile the not-insane lady in my head is telling me to just shut up already.

The tears are drying up behind my eyeballs and I talk to N-Zilla about what's okay to say and what's not okay to say and furthermore that saying the F word is never okay.

Turns out one of phobias N-Zilla has is spiders in the bathroom and on this particular day he screamed "THOSE FREAK'N SPIDERS".

Wait it gets better. Fast forward to Friday. The day where nobody wants to cook and cereal for dinner is not gonna cut it again. Solution, Pizza. The step up from cup-of-noodles for dinner. Look We/I had a very stressful week. Cici's sounded good. Except when both you and and your spouse are functioning on about 3 hours of interrupted sleep every night of the week you don't always think straight. Like for example Cici's on a Friday night is going to be filled with other exhausted parents and starving children. Maybe ordering pizza, renting a movie and staying home might have been better for the moody teenager, the hyper 5 year old, the sensory sensitive child, the anxious teen, and lastly the certifiable parents. No, not us we venture out anyways.

Incident 1) The car ride over we talked about service dogs and N-Zilla said dogs can't go to restaurants. Just so happened at Cici's their was person with a service dog. Great learning experience! Visual connection! Great the Autism Gods were looking out for me. Except they weren't.  N-Zilla was excited stopped in his tracks and said, "Oh mommy, you were right". Then took off to the game area. Adorable. I smiled at the lady who had the dog but she did not. She said-and I quote, "Hey lady, watch your freak'n kid I could have fell and died". Qui-chi! I took a deep yoga breath and screamed FUCK in the depths of my brain. I had to let it go. After all we most likely belonged to the same community.

Incident 2) One child decided to go to sleep right at the table. She just couldn't take all the noise. She said some choice word and put her head down to sleep.
When you have a chubby baby in a car seat sleeping at a restaurant its cute. When your 13 y/o does it people stare. The couple behind us kept telling their kids to stop staring. It was like eyes burning my neck. No matter. Didn't bother me too much. To the left of me I could see N-Zilla and Tula eating candy off the floor. Still no matter I was gonna eat my second slice of pizza. Eventually we left.

Incident 3) Driving home in our mini-van (barf) we must have been driving slow. You know like any family van full of kids coming to a red light. In the process we pissed someone off. A very scarey someone. He started honking and all that intimidating stuff. When Rumpleskilton pulled to the side of us the Hubs made a joke saying that he was going to say something but the guy looked too scary. Everyone laughed. It lightened up the mood. Except it didn't. Rumplestiltskin pulled aside us rolled down his window and started cussing and trying to insult us. Qui-chi-Qui-chi.
Use your imagination-he used the /P/ and /F/ word and the other /F/ word. /H/ Shut-up Ho. Some Other words but I can't remember and in perfect 30-on timing my window would not roll up.
I've had my limit. I can take a lot of things. I can push it way deep down inside then complain about over coffee the next day but I had been pushed to my limit.
I told Rumple to roll up his window and not to talk like that in front of kids.  When he called me a Ho and my husband the /P/ word I said thank you and so on and so on. Then he said the /F/ word! To which I very loudly replied, NO-FUCK-YOU!  Poof it was all over. The light changed Rumble drove off.

Silence until N-Zilla left me with these pearls of wisdom,
"Mommy, it's never okay to say bad words but sometimes when peoples are mean, Mommies have to say Fuck".

Later that night laying in bed reliving the incident I realized I said Fuck in front of the kids.

Fuck!

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Cluster B in Real Time.






Every Sunday I lock myself in my restroom.
Hang up the keys that unlock my husbands closet. His is the closet that holds all the dangerous stuff  like bow and arrows, knives and medication.

I turn on Pandora (I still listen to Pandora) get my calculator out.
I have a cutting board and a knife.

I have a candle lit all the time where I say my novellas for my family especially my daughter.
I open two separate pill boxes. One for A.M one for P.M.
I began counting out and measuring the right milligrams. I put them in.
Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday.

This is the more mundane part of Bipolar disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression/Anxiety and all those Cluster B traits.  

Of course this is the perspective of a parent with a child with the diagnoses.

This isn't a meme talking about If it was cancer you wouldn't say to get over it. Or an article talking about early intervention. Or statistics of mental health disorders in the United States.

This is just a regular Sunday in real life with a real family that has the genetic predisposition of Mental illness and I am the parent who lives it.