Looking Back and Forward

Many years ago I posted this poem about some childhood memories.  Today standing on the porch of my condo I realize the screened door and porch views, sights, sounds and smells are so different. I grew up in Los Angeles and suburbs of Los Angeles County.  The sound of rushing traffic, street lights, random gun shots, noisy neighbors are in such contrast to the humid, warm nights full of bug sounds here in Georgia during the summer.  Although I can hear traffic from where I live and a train passing every now and again, it's not the same but the memories I create and the happiness I can provide for my son is in my hands as much as it can be.  It's not perfect but it's an "enough" kind of state of mind I want to provide him with just enough of a hint of need to learn and explore more.

Today we bought and repotted the plants below.  He loved the size and look.  He said he liked the fuzzy one the best.  They are beautiful echevarias and sedum plants from cactuscollection.com in Vista, California.

My son really did not help me repot these because he does not like to get his hands dirty.  Aspie issues.  I don't like getting my hands dirty either but I tolerate it until I can wash my hands.

Earlier, this evening before sundown, we sat on the porch and read.  My son found three books for summer reading at the library so he got started on Maniac Magee. He also got Harriet the Spy and The Falcons Egg.  He did as I suggested and read the first few pages to see if he wanted to check them out.  Looks like these three peaked his interest.

The picture on the top left is our cozy little spot on our porch where we've started to spend more time.  It's been very enjoyable and the humidity is not too bad once it's cooled down enough.  It's peaceful, private and safe.  We have great neighbors right now.

I hope the memories my son has of his childhood not only help him feel content about his life but also help mold his future in a way that fills him with a sense of direction and desire to learn and experience the world on his own terms.  I never want him to feel tied down or that he is expected to stay and take care of anyone.  His future is his and his life is for him to build based on what he wants and needs.  As long as he lives an honest and moral life with moderation I would never feel wronged if he moved away as I have.  I want him to see the world even if I have to stay here and worry about him. 

My memories, good or bad, have afforded me my perspective on life and the ability to be who I am and appreciate what I have.

Finding Meaning

I like to read this inspirational book I found among some goods which were confiscated from a heroine addict. The items confiscated included many books (and other items being sold in a yard sale) but one caught my eye and it is called "The Promise of a New Day".  Today, the closing line for today's reading said to find meaning in the company of others.

Sometimes people forget how much they can learn from one another. Even if their points of view are not in agreement, people can still open their minds long enough to find some value in each others need to be heard, seen, and understood.

This is probably why I find it hard to label myself into a group because I don't always agree with everything that is part of what I grew up with but I am not bound to the notion of finding some group to which I need belong. 

Everyone offers some value to any situation even when they are being negative or angry.  Looking at someone that is out of control makes one realize that sometimes we forget we've been to the depths of despair that have brought us almost to that point. It's easy to become judgmental and say, "I'd never be like that or do that!" But no one knows what they'd be like until presented with similar or identical circumstances.

So learning from the company of others does not mean looking for the best in everyone or what is "like" us in people we look up to but also what's like us in the worst of us and understand that the worst in someone is caused by many things and some beyond the control of the person going through them at that particular time.

For me, I can apply this to how I feel when other parents watch my son if he's having a meltdown or when he does his hand flapping in response to something exciting.  I don't know what they are thinking but I know that I truly think it's interesting to watch them watch us. I wonder what opinions they are formulating about us and how wrong or right they might be, what experiences they've had to make them who they are, and what they might be going through right now that makes them notice or not notice what's going on around them.

I try often not to judge people for how they are or their beliefs but I still do and I know I have my reasons. But I sometimes re-evaluate those reasons and consider how they represent who I am and what people might feel about me and how it limits my learning to shut things out with judgment.  So finding meaning in the company of others is not about agreeing with someone else, it's about seeing the world in a new way and learning something new about someone else and yourself.

Patience

My son asked me why it was okay for me to get annoyed at my laptop when it was slow but why I did not like it when he got mad at his Playstation, DSi or the Wii when he could not win at a game.  Kids will notice everything.

I told him he was right that I should be more patient in general.  I told him that the difference, though not an excuse to be impatient,  was that my frustrations were limited to a few, every now and again.   I explained that his outbursts were a daily thing and that they were often several times per day. 

I am not a super patient person and I know what particular things bring out the worst in me.  I don't always know what sets my son off but most often it's not being able to do something right, not being able to win at games, or having to do something he's not happy about doing.

Patience is not my strength. When I want to accomplish something, I tend to be in a huge hurry to get it done. Either something or someone is being slow or I am in a hurry and nothing can be fast enough.

I am the most impatient while driving.  I absolutely hate slow drivers but sometimes I try to remind myself that everything serves a purpose.  If I had gotten through the light, I may have been in the accident that happened moments before I got on the freeway.

Sometimes I try to impart this piece of knowledge/wisdom to my son but he's yet too young to fully appreciate how a delay can be a blessing in disguise.  Like unanswered prayers, sometimes there is a reason your heart's desire is blinding you from seeing what's really standing there before you.

Change & Guidance

Growing up and growing older doesn't just mean you change.  Everything and everyone around you changes.  Sometimes these changes are hard because not everyone has the same idea of what is good for them.  I hope that when the time comes for my son to make decisions for himself that he will choose those that will benefit him.

I talk about showing him the right way all the time but I am only a like life's tour guide. Once he goes beyond my scope and what I know I hope that he meets people that are kind and genuine.

I had two such teachers growing up.  Mrs. A and Mrs. G.  I won't use the real last names.  Both teachers looked out for things in my behavior that alerted them to something being off.  They immediately called my mother in for conferences if I lost too much weight, became too withdrawn or had a sudden and unexplainable outburst.  I had those a handful of times.

Because these two women took note of me, it made me take a closer look at myself and realize I was not invisible.  People do notice me and I matter and what I do does matter.  It was a crossroads for me, because at that point I realized I had more control than I realized.  I could make my life better or worse but it also mattered who was there to catch me sometimes. 

I don't know if Mrs. A is even alive anymore. She was my 7th grade teacher and Mrs. G was my 8th grade teacher.  Mrs. G is most likely a grandmother by now.  She was about my age when I was in 8th grade.  Both these women helped shape who I am and how I live my life.  If I could thank them in person I would. 

Thank you for these women who were put in my path and for the others that will be there for me and help me.

Setting Expectations

This article by Autism Support Network really resonates with me.  I always expect my son to attempt to improve, to try and to put his best foot forward in anything he does.  Even if he eventually decides it's not for him, at least he tried his best.

For the longest time, grandma has been going out of her way to find and buy my son shoes with velcro and I was okay with that (especially the cost savings) but I finally decided it was time to challenge him. I took my son to a Nike outlet not long ago; maybe three to 4 weeks ago.  The first shocker was that my son needed to wear a men's shoe in size 7.5.  Yikes. He's 10 and can no longer fit a child shoe size. The second shock of amazement was that I was able to talk him into trying to tie the laces as he tried them on.  I showed him the bunny ears process of tying and then the double knotting to keep the laces snugly tied.  I did also have the ulterior motive to find him shoes he could wear to run with me and double as shoes he can wear to school.  He'll run with me sometimes.  He's actually been able to run up to 1.5 miles without stopping.

At first, while looking for the new shoes and found some to try on, he resisted and looked like he was ready to go towards meltdown mode.  However, he's learned to read my face.  He could see I was not about to back down and I had the look of determination.  It could also have been because it was a weeknight and he was tired and wanted to go home and play video games so he just caved.  That also made me think, crap, now he'll only wear them today and never again.  But as it turns out, he's been wearing them all the time and not asking for his velcro Sketchers.

My beautiful son :)

He struggles with the laces but less every time unless it's one of those mornings but he never has wanted the velcro ones back.  I like to think I have a hand in his ability to not give up on trying to tie those shoes and wear them.  They look great and he looks more put together.  His friends at school commented on his shoes and I think that has helped him want to continue to wear them as well.

I always tell my son that anything worth having is worth working hard for.  If you get things too easily you don't appreciate them as much as when you had to work and earn them yourself.  This in turn makes you appreciate what you get for free even more because you realize the value of the item before you.  So likewise the value of what you have achieved will shine brighter and make you more complete.  The expectations I set today will be his successes tomorrow, not mine.  I just want the peace of mind of knowing he can take care of himself when I am no longer around.

Dreaming

This week wore me out. The weeks I have my son I have to get up at 5AM to get ready and get him to his bus pick up on time.  I try to get up at this time even when he's with his dad but some days I just can't.  Keeping the routine of waking up at the same time does help sometimes. I try to get up and work out and get ready for my day. 

I could tell this week took a lot out of me because last night while I was dozing off on the couch I finally made myself go to bed, but I when I woke up this morning I could not remember falling asleep after I got in bed.  I just remember getting in bed and putting my phone on the table by my bed and that's it.  I woke up this morning from the strangest dream.  And I slept through the night no interruptions (nice - feel so rested).

I dreamt I was re-enlisting in the military.  The reason why, I don't really remember in the dream but I do remember going to a place like my old reserve unit where they basically laughed at the fact that I used to serve for that particular unit. It made no sense why.  My military days in reality were short ... I served 7 years active reserve and 1 year inactive ready reserve and much of the time it did not feel like being in the military because the vast majority I served one weekend per month and 2 week exercsises per year.  My basic training was typical and the same as all over active duty soldiers. 

The dream progressed to the point where we end up in combat in some third world country or the middle east somewhere.  We go into some hide out building.  In the building we go through a myriad of corridors and secret doors that lead us to an area of the building where we could see into the home of a poor homeless family making due living in another part of the same empty building.  At some point in the dream me and the other soldier, who remained faceless to me through the dream, end up helping this family.

As the dream took us out back into an open area and headed away from helping this family, somehow the faceless soldier and I both realize that this is what we'll continue doing. Though words aren't exchanged it seems through most of my dream, I somehow knew what the dialogue would have been.

I seldom dream or remember my dreams so the details and the ability to remember this dream left me baffled.  At any rate I attribute it to my more rigorous exercising and eating better and cutting back on my calorie intake. I am trying to lose over 30 pounds and tone up.  I've also started to make an effort to drink more water.  I am breaking it up to drinking 8+ ounces every hour for most of the day if I can. This will make it less overwhelming to drink that much water.  Yesterday I succcessfully drank 50 ounces. 

Selective Mutism

I was just re-reading my static post page for my Son and realized that when he refused to speak to certain people it was what they call selective mutism.  I always just thought that it was more a choice for him when he would speak and that he was just being head strong when he would not.  I now realize it's a sort of paralysis from social anxiety issues or social interaction inabilities.  I like to compare it to how I sometimes feel when I have too much going on and instead of starting with one thing I end up paralyzed and stressed on the couch not knowing where to start.  I do that a lot.  I even have this nervous tick of scratching my scalp when I get overly stressed.  My ex-husband found it annoying that he could hear my nails scratching my scalp.  It's rather gross come to think of it but I can't help that I do that.  In thinking of my own quirks I can't help but feel bad for never understanding his inability to speak at certain moments.

Sometimes I realize that I can't put myself in his shoes or his head and see the world through his eyes entirely but I can find situations in which I behave quite the same way in response to what I perceive as stressful situations.

Last night I really made an effort to allow him to do his thing and eat what he wanted.  He only wanted two slices of cinnamon toast and strawberry milk all night long and I was okay with that.  All I wanted was the leftover bread sticks from Pizza Hut we had the other day and two small squares of Ghirardelli chocolate.  I was exhausted, I had a sore throat and I just wanted to play Words with Friends and not care about the dishes, laundry or the clutter.

Sometimes letting go is the best thing.  Letting things slide once in a while is good.  Being completely obsessed with having it all and having it now is another way of shortening your life and ruining the opportunity for a happiness in the now and what you have right now.

Are you going to nag me all night!?

The bean

Are you going to nag me all night?  Is the question my son posed as I continued to press him about details on his day at school yesterday.  From why was math upsetting, why was writing unclear to why were you upset at lunch.  I swear getting him to talk is like pulling teeth.  He'd make a great spy because I can scarely get a bit of information out of him. EVER!  (Picture to the left is him blocking my attempts at getting his picture and he's down to his tighty whities because he hates wearing clothes)

So the following is great intel for me as a mom to be able to gather without resorting to tickle threats and withholding strawberry milk.

He got upset at lunch particularly because as he put it "some random lady was sitting in "his" spot in the cafeteria where he always sits."  I did not know you could stake claim to a spot in a ginormous cafeteria. At any rate this ruined lunch and so he stomped off to the class and refused to eat.  He said that anytime one person is off their seating arrangement it just messes everything up because no one is where they are supposed to sit.  This gaggle of (4) aspies all come from the same self contained asperger class (2 others only eat in class) he's in and they all apparently have the same issue with losing their specific claim to a spot at this one table in the cafeteria.

That's got to be an awesome meeting of so many little like-minded minds.  I asked him what they talk about and he said random stuff.  I said like what? and he said just whatever we feel like talking about that day.  Such vagueness.  Sickening!

The rest of his disappointments at school included a math issue and a writing issue.

The math upset as he explained was that the original explanation of perimeter and area solution was not accurate to the explanation he got in math class and that just put is day into a tailspin.

The writing assignment was not clear and it flustered him so he ran to his usual spot under his desk to self-regulate.  He told me he likes this spot because it is cool, dark and it is comforting under his desk.  Once down there he was able to look up and see some key words the teacher wrote on the board and it clarified the writing assignment therefore enabling him to collect himself and come back and finish said assignment.

So I was asked if I was to nag him all night because I pressed to find out when he leaves like that do his other aspie comrades ask why and where he went.  He simply said no.  I asked whether his other friends do that and he said yes. I asked where they go and he said back to the class, where else?  I asked if he asked them why or whether they asked him why he left and he said no.  I asked if he wanted to know why they left and he said no. I asked why he did not want to know and he said because he did not care.  No empathy there. 

So he ate no lunch, he had strawberry milk for breakfast, antibiotics, no lunch (did I say that), just peanuts, strawberry milk and more peanuts and antibiotics at home and that was it.  He would not eat anything else yesterday. 

He had a program on autotune but with the PS2 on, the autotune would not do much good so he kept asking me the time all night long. I told him it was time for him to get a watch and then I asked him if he was going to nag me all night long. Touche!

Dojo Done with…

It was a good run at it but my son has finally lost his desire for dojo.

There is a deep seated need to try to get him to go and not give up but there is also that very real need to let it go.

My parents, growing up, criticized us a lot about not being like friends of ours that were more athletically inclined or whatever it was they were better at than we were. I hate to make comparisons. Every child is different and making them feel less than someone they know in reality can make them feel that the parent would rather have a different child.

That is very discouraging to a child and it can leave them feeling like they will never be good enough. I should know. My mother was a very critical person.

She still can be.

On a visit to see my family several years back my mom kept fussing with my hair. She insisted I needed to brush it. I was like hello! Woman! Back off. I brush my hair but I have straight, fine, fly aways that are very sensitive to static and I hate hairspray and I drive with the window rolled down a lot. I am not going to helmet head myself to look perfectly coifed at all times, sorry no can do, I am not the helmet head soccer mom woman. No. Period. Not happening.
The funny thing is she can’t take criticism herself. She can tell you all day long what’s wrong with you but you turn tables on her and she’s the proverbial cat with claws out.

Anyways, I love my mom but sometimes I know too well that well intentioned parents are the reason many of us need years of therapy. Think before you speak are words I often think of now more than ever, not only because of the repercussions of what you say to people or what is said directly to you but also because my son has no filter – the Asperger’s trait you gotta love! He often just blurts and within earshot of people.

It’s usually really funny and appropriate to the situation but not appropriate manners wise.


Full circle, to the dojo done with decision… I am happy to move on and find another activity. So far running is the only thing I can seem to find that does not require him full contact with too many people, does not require too much coordination or balance really (just staying upright) and lacks complicated instructions and well timed movements of which he seems to be overwhelmed by at times to the point where it brings on a full meltdown.

I’d rather not dwell on being disappointed that he won’t do it. I never got the chance to try and he has so at least he can’t say we never attempted to give the opportunity to him.

Scarletina / Strep Throat

My Aspie missed 3 days of school this week. Mother's day night he spent it curled up on my couch with a very bad headache. That night at his dad's he threw up and had a fever that spiked to 104. Next day his dad let him stay home but his symptoms continued. Then Tuesday he seemed better and went to school. Tuesday night symptoms returned but no vomitting. Wednesday he stayed home and Thursday back to school. Somewhere between Wednesday night and Thursday he developed a spidery looking rash on his arms, legs, face and back. It is pink with areas of redness that seem to be spidery legs that interconnect. It appears to show up most when he gets too hot or agitated.

The doctor called it Scarletina or Scarlet fever. She said that the modern name for those are strep. Strep can manifest itself in many ways and can omit the tell tale sore throat and coughing and only have symptoms of headache, nausea and rash.

I can't say I am too worried about it since he seems fine now but because he was at his dad's house I was stressed about not seeing for myself how he was doing. Now he is playing Stars Wars Battle Front II and bouncing of his seat with excitement shooting at everything.

This week has been an up and down of roller coaster emotions for me. Bad news from back home had me a bit derailed. Although I won't go into details about what the issue is, let's just say sometimes I am glad I can be far enough away from the drama that I don't get directly involved.

It's nothing some therapy or poetry won't fix I guess. LOL.

BTW we saw a new doctor and I loved her bedside manner. My son was very receptive to her considering his shyness and asperger's. He actually answered her questions and smiled alot.

Poetry - Huts

I got a bit of bad news last night and it inspired this slightly angry sad and lonely poem.  At least I can use my poetry as an outlet.

Huts

Some people are made to create ripples
In the very ocean they create...
Deep dark and haunted
A Hallowed out dead tree

The rest of us are there to ride the wave
Crashing in the riptide, through the air
Shredded to the core
An ax to take it down

Some smiles are penetrating dimples
And a laugh to never irritate
The soul, unlike the anger, leaves it unassaulted
The only thing to know it's free

The smiles of the rest, the habits of a slave
Minds accustomed to the pain, they're
Left nothing but an inner shore
For a refuge, lest break with just the effort of a frown

This life is crashing bits of hate
Like diamonds in rose cuts
Hurled to sharp points of perpetual purgatory fate
No matter what obtained the heart resides in drafty huts.

Well now that that is out of my system, I am going to get back to work and focus on better things.

Mother's Day Recap

Mother's Day weekend was pretty uneventful.  My son spent most of it with his dad. He spent Mother's Day afternoon and early evening with me. I treated myself to some raspberry and chocolate chip pancakes on Sunday morning. They turned out really good.  I am not good in the kitchen so when anything turns out good, it's short of a miracle.  The pancake mix came from Target.  Archer Farms. That brand is pretty decent. 

On Friday night I got myself a curling iron I had been wanting for a few weeks. I had a 20% off coupon so I went to Ulta and go it.  It does those nearly swirl curls.  I've posted a pic below.  It does look better in person.  It leaves your hair looking slightly tousled and wavy.  I probably should have used a little hairspray because I am sure my hair will be straight by this afternoon.  

Unfortunately, my son was not feeling well on Sunday.  He had a really bad headache and just wanted to sleep. I had a migraine Friday afternoon so I was not too surprised he had similar issues just the same weekend. We seem to suffer the same types of migraine headaches. In fact I was worried when I had a migraine when I was pregnant with him thinking it would hurt him if I was feeling that badly but the doctors did not seem to think it was cause for alarm.

So Sunday he slept on the couch snuggled up next to me.  He asked me to rub his back and his arms a few times but would doze off and start snoring.  His little head and body felt really warm.  I think being out and about in the heat earlier with his grandma wore him out.

I hope you enjoyed your Mother's Day.  Below is a picture of my mom and the right bottom child is me when I was a little girl.

And my son and I in comparison - in our children photos.  One of my aunts said, upon meeting my son the first time, "Oh my God, now I know what you'd look like as a boy." LOL

BTW, my sister cut my bangs really short so that is why I had these short bangs. She was being a mean big sister apparently.

Attitude Check

I know my son appreciates me and it is illustrated in the picture below but last night he said he was anxious to go to his dad's because my life (meaning mine, not his) was boring.  I was a bit put off but not angry at all.  I told him that was mean of him to say.

I also pointed out if this had anything to do with how lavishly his grandma spends on him when he is over there, that he needed to not think life was exciting because he was always getting things.  I told him I don't spend on you like that because I can't afford to and also because I want you to learn to appreciate what you have and understand the value of what you have so you will take care of it.  He looked a bit miffed but said he was just joking.  I knew it hit home.  He gets spoiled rotten whereever he goes but more so at grandmas which is where he spends 80% of the time when he's with his dad.  I don't want him to be a bratty kid.

Even though the world blames parents when kids misbehave or get in trouble with the law it takes a village and as you can see even those closest to your child can skew your child's value system.  My son slowly has learned that getting stuff is more fun than playing with what he has but it is also showing him that without getting new stuff life gets dull. I think that is the reason we have a debt crisis in the U.S.  Because parents, grandparents, media and the government do not place any more value in control, discipline and working hard and people just want the easy way, the gimme more greedy way.

Happy Mother's Day this weekend ladies! Remember we have a tough job and lots of influences at work on our kids besides what they see at home. I'm having one of these and enjoying my weekend.

Red Shirt

I had to laugh at myself this morning. I looked in my son's backpack to sign the daily progress/behavior form his teacher sends home and realized I had not signed it for Monday.  Duh!  I noticed that it said wear red shirt for Field Day.  That was yesterday.  I hate when that happens.  My son actually told me that sometime over the weekend but my porous brain leaked out that bit of precious information somewhere through the beginning of this week.  Nice.

The funny part was that I sent him in a camouflage shirt.  Anyone that knows me, knows I hate to dress my son in camo because I think it's so tacky, so typically good ole boy.  At any rate, my ex-MIL has this intrinsic fascination with dressing him in all camo from head to toe sometimes.  As if Georgia is not green enough to lose your child in the landscape, let's just make it a bit more interesting right?  There's been times, (coincidentally on picture day) that she dressed him or his dad dressed him head to toe in camo.  What I hated most was not just because it was camo, it was the fact that the camo was two different shades of green. The shirt was less faded than the cargo camo pants but faded to look cheap and over washed nonetheless.  To boot the pants were too short, and his socks were a heather grey that nearly screamed look at me.  I mean really?  The kid already has enough reasons to get bullied and then you dress him like that. (I was in the military and I hated wearing camo ... I hate seeing it on people especially when it is worn sloppily and mismatched - and it's for hunting for Pete's sake.)

So this morning upon realizing that he was supposed to blend in by wearing a red shirt like everyone else for Field Day, I laughed heartily at the fact that I had him wear a camouflage shirt.  I paired it with dark charcoal sweats though and athletic socks.  He's back to hating denim, zippers, buttons and prefers soft elastic waist banded sweats, like an old man. :)  I'll get him in jeans again, mark my words. LOL

Hygiene Issues

I don't have hygiene issues but my son ... boy does he have issues with it.

I about have to sell a kidney to get that boy to brush his teeth, shower or put his clothes in the laundry basket, he'll even try to wear the same underwear or socks more than one day.  My ex had issues with the laundry basket too; must be in the genes (men). LOL just kidding.

This morning I made my little man shower. He had bed head from hell. I was like oh (HELL) no! I am not letting you go to school like that.  At dojo yesterday he got sweaty and when we got home he refused to shower. He wanted to play Star Wars Battle something or other II.  I was too tired to pull out my metaphorical mommy light saber and duel it out to get him to go shower.

I was exhausted for whatever reason.  I had the day off yesterday but that took a lot out of me. (I had the day off because I had to work Saturday). I think it was because I woke up a 4:45 AM, got him ready for school by 5:30 AM headed to his bus by 6:00AM, ran two miles by 7:30AM, lounged about til it was time to get him around 2:45, took him to grandma's before his dojo session, went to to dojo by 5:15PM, went back to his grandma's after dojo so he could show me some Lego creation he'd somehow forgotten to show me when we were there earlier and then I got sort of in the awkward position of staying for dinner so I had to be sociable until like 8:30PM and then drive home which put me back at my place at 9:00PM and there I lay until 11PM drooling on the couch dozing off like an old lady.

Anyways, back to the whole hygiene problem.  I think it's an Asperger's side effect that tooth brushing and bathing (hygiene in general) are a huge challenge.  Heck I am sure it's the same for all kids going through plain ordinary childhood.  I don't know what you guys do but I find myself bribing the kid with toys sometimes just because other ways don't seem to work at all or work for a while and then they don't.

It's the part of parenting that is my least favorite because I like to be clean and I can't imagine why someone would not like being fresh and clean and in nice clean clothes.

This morning I had the energy to enforce the shower.  I had gotten up at 4AM and did my P90X Core Synergistics work out and was feeling pretty invincible considering I did it through lower back pain and everything ... so at 5:30 AM when I woke that bedhead monkey up I ushered him into a clean and fresh day in the shower.  It was liberating for me anyways.  Tonight we vacuum and wash bedding ... his sweaty head was in that bed all night and it's bugging me even as I sit at work thinking about it.  I have dash of OCD I think.

Mirror Mirror

Whose the most irritable of them all?

Apparently me.

My son told me today that I am more irritable than his dad. Really now?

This started from a conversation where he said he would wait to play some new Playstation games he got while yard saling with his grandmother at his dad's. I had to work this Saturday morning from 8:00AM to 12:30PM so they went to neighborhood yard sales and they found each game for $5.00 each.  They found lots of other stuff too.  His paternal side of the family tend to be slight hoarders.  They keep junk forever and half the time they don't know where they got and what it's for.

I did not understand why he could not play those games at my place so I asked why.  And he said because I am more irritable than his dad.  Apparently this means that I don't tolerate his less than fun behavior that results from not always winning at every game.  He calls it "irratible" when I won't just sit there and ignore that he's angry and ready to meltdown over video games.  I usually force him to take a break or play a different game.

His dad must let some of this just slide ... not that I don't but he can be impossible to live with when he does not win.  It's quite annoying and yes it does make me irritable.  At least he knows that I won't put up with his shenanigans. I tell you the boy knows what he can get away with, where and with whom.  Asperger's or not he's got this down to a science. 

It's not slipped past me unnoticed.