New Years Resolution: Clean Up My Act

In case you thought I was kidding about the "mountain of laundry" - JUST the boys' stuff.

I'm terrible at these things. I don't really make official "New Years Resolutions" because I know they'll be broken before the week's end. But there is one thing I absolutely MUST do this year -  which is clean my shit up.

I am not a naturally organized or tidy person and neither is my husband. Together we're a disaster. And I hate the way our cluttered, messy home looks and impacts our kids. ("Wait a minute honey, we can't leave for school yet because your mother needs to find this very important paper in that pile of chaos over there.")

And this year I really NEED to do something about that. So of course, I turned to the internet for help.

I am NOT a "Flylady" type. I get hives just stopping by that site. But Joslyn of stark. raving. mad. mommy. is my type of woman, and she, in her own, likewise ADD-rific whirlwind of disorganization put out the call for help to her readers (Please Help Me: My New Year's Resolution is to Get Organized).

One of them pointed to this site:  Unfuck Your Habitat (or UfYH for those who don't like to curse - obviously not me). Their tagline is: "Terrifying motivation for lazy people with messy homes" - PERFECT!

I also like their attitude, which is small goals, work for 20 minute chunks, then do 10 minutes of something else. Try for multiple rounds (but if one is all you can do at first, it's OK) and do it EVERY DAY.

From their site: "We deserve to live somewhere with nice things we love, and to have a clean, calm place to be, when we’re not at work or school or any of the fifty zillion other places we go."

AND: "...it’s about motivation, and support, and accountability."

And it's not just about housekeeping, it's universal: "And our homes aren’t the only things that need to be unfucked. Our finances, our jobs, our relationships: there’s no end to the things we can fuck up. The important thing to remember is that there is nothing that can’t be unfucked. You just have to do it." 

So I've found my guru. The kind of inspiration I can live with: ironic, realistic. Written by my people for my people (messy, disorganized, drowning in inertia) with the simple credo of: Do. Something.

And that I can live with.

And I'm starting today. Just 20 minutes, right?

(After I get the laundry put away - TODAY, I promise!)

I'm in Katie's Army now

I am thrilled to have been recruited by the wonderful Katie of the blog Sluiter Nation.

And all I had to do was write a blog post for her.

This one: Tribes

Now, if you know me and the gifts that ADD has bestowed in my life, you'll know this "little thing" had me tied up in knots all weekend.

I do guest posts. I love to guest. But I always get anxious when writing for others and not just myself.

And since anxiety makes me uncomfortable? I avoid and procrastinate. And then you add in my perfectionism, my being unable to just write and release?

That means I turn in my guest posts at the weee end of when they've been asked for, sliding in right under the wire. Sorry folks.

I always swear next time will be different.

But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

I even wrote a post about it called "I Fear I Make a Terrible Guest."

So why do I keep subjecting myself to the stress?

Because I love communities, being connected to something larger than myself. Because the glue that holds the bloggosphere together is a combination of guest posting, commenting and linking (plus a healthy dose of Twitter and Facebook and other social media tools).

Being a part of something.

Which, coincidentally, is the theme I was asked to write on, and came up with this post for Katie:

Tribes

Which you should go read over at her blog.

And then you should stay and read Katie. She is wonderful. Generous. Funny. Genuine. The real deal. A mom. A writer. A friend.

I am so thankful to her for having me today.

Making connections.

(Go. Read. See you back here tomorrow.)


Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

U is for Uncharted Territory

U is for…

Uncharted Territory

What I feel I step out into every day, in my life lived here with my son Jacob, on our own particular wavelength of the Autism Spectrum.

Because he is like other ASD kids in this or that aspect, but his particular constellation of neurobiology is completely unique. A supernova unto himself. 

I have a friend (who himself is on the spectrum w/ NVLD) who says of his SN son: He has a 100% diagnosis of being {NAME}. Of that we are certain.

Sometimes when I tell people I have a "high-ish functioning" kid on the autism spectrum they say, "Oh, Aspergers" and I have to laugh. Because, truth to tell, he is the anti-Aspergers, language processing being his primary deficit.

A little professor he most certainly is not.

When I tell another autism mom he loves baseball she nods and talks of how obsessed with the stats her aspie son is, and I have to laugh. Jake wouldn't know a stat if it bit him in the ass. And his knowledge of the basic rules is sketchy at best (let alone the thousand arcane ones that the baseball obsessed usually revel in being privy to).

No, Jake loves baseball for the... well, I actually have no idea exactly why, other than that his (wonderful) school took the kids to a minor league game on a field trip this July, and somehow he fell in love with the boys of summer that day.

I think perhaps he loves the drama of it all. He likes to shout out: "You're out!" and "He's pitching the ball, Mom!" or "He's hitting the ball, Mom!" excitedly while watching a game on TV. And Jake is over the moon that our family is going to a Mets game soon (his idea).

My little corner of the neurodiverse universe.

And, in another corner of it, today is Ethan's first day of school. 4th grade, a big year. He's anxious (it took him FOREVER to fall asleep last night).

4th grade is his uncharted territory: new teacher, new kids (and none of his close friends in his class), academics ramping up, ADD acting up (anxiety always triggers it).

And, most importantly, standardized tests that count, REALLY count, as in NYC they pretty much determine what middle school he'll get into. And he knows it (the kids talk). And he feels the pressure, and wishes he could go back to simpler times.

Nine years old, and already nostalgic, declaring, "My friend Peter is so lucky he's in 2nd grade, they don't have any big tests yet. 2nd grade was a great year." and sighing.

It was not easy for me to get this post out today, having just rounded the bend from those last lingering weeks of summer vacation, the unstructured days starting out glorious and degenerating into bored, fighting children and exhausted parents barely parenting. There be dragons here.

I almost called this post "U is for Unfinished" and made it a one sentence post:

U is for Unfinishe….

But couldn’t bring myself to do that (even though I gave myself a nice little chuckle at the conceptual humor involved in that stunt) because, well, when have I EVER been short form, really?

So I started to search for other U words, and realized so many of them were "Un-" words. How appropriate, as my life feels like it's full of a lot of Un-s right now.

Some days I feel:

Uninspired

Unhinged

Unhappy

Unconnected

Unprepared


My real self just buried so far:

Underground


That the pressures so thoroughly:

Unending

Unbelievable

Unrelieved, nearly

Untenable


But I am also:

Unrelenting in my search to find new ways to help and support Jacob

Uncompromising in my insistence that the bar be set high for him

Unbending in my belief in him, that no one should ever, ever

Underestimate his intelligence or

Understanding of what is going on around him.


And my life is also, always:

Unbelievably fulfilling

Unimaginably beautiful, and full of love, here, in the

Uncharted territory I sail off into every day.

And? It's a good thing I like dragons.

This post has been inspired by and linked up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday writing meme. And maybe I should have just written about Ukuleles.


Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

SNSS: Special to the Fourth Power

Today's very special SNSS guest is a mom with a very special family. She is the stark. raving. mad. mommy (SRMM). She writes at her eponymous blog, whose tag line is: Losing my mind, one child at a time.

The SRMM has four children, and... they ALL have special needs. But, just to keep her on her toes, they are all different from each other. 

There are her twin daughters, oldest at 10, one with ADHD, one with severe anxiety. Then there is her brilliant but anxious seven year old daughter, and finally, her five year old son who is on the spectrum with Aspergers.

The SRMM herself? Has ADD, which she has recently begun to address, much to the improvement of her life.

And the most amazing thing is that this is a very, very funny blog. The SRMM sometimes rants about the injustices that any special needs parent experiences, but she also rants about everything else that freaks her out or pisses her off in a most entertaining way. 

She also enjoys and celebrates her children, revels in the wonderfulness of their specialness, even as she recognizes the challenges of their lives.

For her SNSS post, The SRMM has done a unique and brilliant thing: interviewed her four very bright children about their own situation, asked them to think about and share their thoughts on their siblings. Read this amazing post now, here:

@@@@@@@ 

Special to the Fourth Power - by stark. raving. mad. mommy.

I have four kids, each with their own special needs.

Little Dude, who is five, was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome about a year ago. 

The Peanut Butter Kid is seven. She has some anxiety issues, but her biggest special need is that she's crazy smart. We just put in a Gifted IEP for her. 

My twin daughters are ten. Cookie has severe anxiety. Besides weekly therapy, she's on three different prescription psychiatric medications. She had a 504 for her anxiety, but now those accommodations have been folded into a Gifted IEP. 

Her twin, the Pork Lo Maniac, has ADHD and some language processing issues. She also gets weekly therapy, and is on medication for both ADHD and anxiety. She currently has a 504 for her ADHD, but we're working toward an IEP to help her with the language processing.

Yeah ... I've got my hands full. But you know what? My kids do, too.

My husband and I do our darndest to give each of our kids as much individual attention as we can. But still, all these issues obviously impact each of our kids in different ways.

For my contribution to Special Needs Sibling Saturdays, I decided to interview each of my kids about how they see their siblings, and how they affect each other.


Little Dude, age 5.  Has: Asperger Syndrome, Sensory Processing Disorder.

What's hard about having a sister with ADHD?  She doesn't let me do much stuff.  It's stressful, and also sometimes I get really upset with her because she wrestles with me and her moves are too hard and I can't win.  What about when she's having a meltdown?  Yeah, that.  But that's all the problems.

What about Cookie's anxiety?  Is it hard for you when she's sad or stressed out?  I usually kind of tickle her.  Or do a silly face.

Can you tell me something great about each of your sisters?  Something great about Cookie is that she makes me happy.  The Pork Lo Maniac, a great thing about her is that she's Dad's padawan.  That way I have more people to wrestle with.  Something great about the Peanut Butter Kid is that she is great about doing crazy stuff.  Like laughing really hard and laughing into a pillow because it's so loud.  It doesn't even hurt my ears when I'm right next to her and she laughs.

What do you think it's like for your sisters when you get really stressed and have a meltdown?  I think they get upset, because they can't fix the problem.

The Peanut Butter Kid, age 7.  Has: anxiety, Gifted IEP.

What's hard about having a sister with ADHD (and language processing issues)?  When she doesn't get what I'm saying, when I'm being sarcastic.  It's hard to get her to understand me, about each thing I say.  If she's too busy and she can't hear me, somtimes I start to freak out a little, because it's really hard to get her to focus on what I'm saying.

What's fun or awesome about having a sister with ADHD?  It's awesome that she has ADHD, because if she didn't, she wouldn't be as much fun.  She makes up funny jokes, and sometimes they don't even make any sense, but they're funny.  She talks about weird stuff with me, like talking about poop, and then we laugh so hard that Cookie calls us "broken."

What's hard about having a sister with anxiety?  When she's stressed with me because I did something wrong, I try to make her feel better, because then I feel guilty and it turns into this whole thing.  If it's just about homework, when she's done I try to leave her alone, or cheer her up.

What's great about her anxiety?  She understands me, because she gets stressed like me.  She's not perfect, and I like that, because she's my sister, and I don't want to feel so different.

What's hard about having a little brother on the spectrum?  When he melts down and freaks out, it's hard to get him to understand, and sometimes he doesn't pay attention because he's so focused on something else.

What's great about his Asperger? He loves Star Wars and he loves me very much.  He's so fun.

What do you think it's like for your siblings when you're feeling anxious?  I think it's hard for them to understand me, and to feel the way I do.  It think it's hard for them.  Sometimes they try to leave me alone.  I guess it's stressful for them.

What about when you're working on school stuff that your older sisters are working on, like multiplication?  Sometimes when I accidentally say stuff out loud, about me working on multiplication or something, that can hurt someone's feelings. It can be a little offensive.  I try not to talk about that.  I can talk about it with you and Daddy instead.

The Pork Lo Maniac, age 10.  Has: ADHD, anxiety, language processing issues.

What's hard about having a little brother with Asperger Syndrome?  It's hard to ask him a question like, "can you please lower your voice?" or "can you please stop that?" without him getting upset.  When he has a meltdown, he might scream at me, and sometimes it'll be because of one little thing.  When I want him to stop doing something, I know that he'll get upset if I ask him, so then I have to just listen to his really loud voice.

What's awesome about his Asperger Syndrome?  Sometimes, how he needs to express his feelings at the end of the day is wrestling, which I love to do.  Sometimes I just need to wrestle.  It's perfect when we can just both wrestle together.

Both of your sisters have anxiety issues. What's hard about their anxiety for you?   Sometimes when we're having a conversation, and I don't understand what one of them is saying, or I don't really know what they're talking about, or I take it literally, then they do this (shows shaking arms), and I can't really help it that I don't understand.

Also, since Cookie has anxiety, she needs that medicine Clonidine, so at night it makes her think it's later than it really is.  She gets more tired, and keeps asking me if we can turn off the lights, and it's really not that late.  I just want to keep reading.  

You have some anxiety too. What's different about your anxiety than theirs?  I get anxious about mostly about getting stuff done.  They start worrying that it's late, or we're going to be late, and I'll probably never worry as much as they do.  I guess sometimes when I can't hear somebody or I don't know what they're saying, and they keep having to repeat it over and over again, and I still can't understand them, it's just too hard, and I don't know what to do.

I don't think they have that anxiety.  But they might.  When I keep asking them a question, and they don't know what I'm saying, because I've already had the conversation in my head and I just use pronouns and they don't know, that might make them feel anxious.  I see them flapping their hands because they're frustrated.  And then that makes me feel bad because I can't help that.

Do you think them having anxiety makes it easier for them to understand what you're going through?  No.  They just can't understand.

Is there anything great about the way they are, or their anxiety?  I guess it is good that even when it isn't that late, and Cookie says she thinks it's late and we should turn off the lights, but I just started reading a minute ago, then that reminds me that at some point I need to turn off the light.

Is it hard when the Peanut Butter Kid is doing really advanced schoolwork?  Yeah, sometimes that bothers me.  I know I'm smart, but I'm the only one who hasn't been in the gifted program.  Sometimes it upsets me when everyone else is so smart, and I'm smart, but I'm the one who struggles with the most stuff in school.  And they're so smart, I can't understand what their stuff even is in school.  It seems easier for them.

I'm the one who probably won't be in the gifted program.  Sometimes I feel like people aren't as proud of me.  In the spelling bee, I was the fourth one out.  Everyone was so proud of [our friend who won].  At the spelling bee, they couldn't see how good of a speller I really am.  I think you and Daddy are proud of me, but at school, I don't feel like they're proud of me, of how hard I work.

Tell me something great about your sisters.  Cookie's really crafty, and she has really good ideas that are so good it's hard not to steal that idea.  It's fun playing with The Peanut Butter Kid, just her and me.  I think she's really good at understanding me when we play one-on-one.

What do you think is hard for your siblings about your ADHD, or your language processing issues?  It's probably hard when I have a conversation in my head, and then I just say "it" or something like that, and they have no idea what I'm saying.  I guess it's stressful for them when I get really frustrated.

It's probably hard for anybody when they're asking me a question, and I can't understand them, or when they can't understand me.  I know that my ADHD is fun sometimes, because the PBK said one time that she's glad I have ADHD, because if I didn't, it wouldn't be as fun for her, but I don't really understand that.
 
Cookie, age 10.  Has: severe anxiety, Gifted IEP.

Did you know something was different about Little Dude before we told you?  Yeah. A little before that, there was something a little off. Something just didn't seem like normal. He was different from other kids his age. When we would go to friends' houses, he didn't play with other kids as much as he played with Legos and stuff.

What's hard about having a little brother with Asperger Syndrome?  Sometimes he's very stubborn.  And he gets so obsessed with one thing, it's hard for me to want to play with him. Sometimes I want a break, and he doesn't really seem to understand that. At the dinner table, things can get a little weird, and I kind of get tired of him talking about butt cheeks at the table. It's not very pleasant.

What's awesome about having a little brother with Asperger Syndrome? Sometimes he can kind of help us with his homework. When he was obsessed with multiplication, he would sing, "six times eight is forty-eight." Sometimes it's fun playing with him, because he has awesome ideas about what to pretend. When we're playing Lego Star Wars or Lego Indiana Jones, he knows exactly what to do and where everything is.  On Batman, he can even remember the bad guys' actual names.

What's hard about having a twin sister with ADHD and language processing issues?  Sometimes, she doesn't really understand, somehow. She takes so many things literally. Sometimes it's hard to talk to her at the end of the day, because by the end of the day, she's mumbling, and she gets mad. She'll say, "I said, ..." Every little thing seems to be so big to her.

Do you know why she's different at the end of the day? Probably because she had a tough day dealing with her ADHD. And I know her Adderall wears off by then.

Is there anything awesome or fun about her ADHD? Despite how she doesn't get sarcasm, she has a really good sense of humor. She's funny sometimes, but sometimes she doesn't get how she's being funny. Other times, she does get it. But sometimes when she's humming little tunes and doesn't hear us talking, it's kind of funny. Also, she can find pretty much anything in the house, because of her memory.

If she's being really ADHD-ish, how does it affect you? It really depends on how I'm feeling, and what she's doing. Sometimes it's stressful. Sometimes it's hilarious.

Do you feel like you get left out, like Daddy and I spend more time or energy on Little Dude or the Pork Lo Maniac? Sometimes. Because sometimes I'm trying to talk, and somebody has a freak-out in the middle of the conversation. It's not very fair to me. And the Pork Lo Maniac always needs things repeated, so it's like I've had the whole conversation over and over.

How do you think it's hard for your siblings to have a sister with anxiety? I never really thought about their side, of what they deal with too much, in terms of me. At the end of the day, if I've forgot my homework or something, I guess it must be hard for them, to hear me getting so upset. Kind of like how it's hard for me to hear them get so upset.

I know it's especially hard for the Pork Lo Maniac. One time, the PBK offered to give me her slinky because mine was all bent and I didn't like it any more, and the Pork Lo Maniac was like, "how come you always get what you want?" It made me feel bad.

I know Little Dude doesn't like waiting for an hour when I'm in therapy. But I'm pretty sure my sisters are fine because they have toys in the waiting room. But I don't know, because I'm not there. I'm in therapy.

***

I'm grateful to Varda for asking me to contribute to the Special Needs Sibling Saturdays series.  Interviewing the kids, and then reading the responses as a family, really gave us the opportunity to focus on how we function as a unit. 

Clearly, the kids hadn't previously given much thought to how their quirks affect other people.  Self-awareness is a long, hard road, and I'm glad we could start them on that path in a gentle, supportive way.

@@@@@@@ 

I love how articulate and thoughtful all of her children have been. It was a brilliant idea to interview them, and that SRM family used it as a source of connection and communication, to help set the kids on a path of self-awareness? Beautiful.

The fact that, in spite of their very differing needs, it is clear that this family still functions as a unit is a testament to what an amazing parent the SRM Mommy is. Even if she has written a post confessing that she sucks? Don't believe it.

We all get overwhelmed, no special needs parent (let alone one x 4) can do it all. She is way wonderful, trust me. Any mom who LOVES summer break? Wonderful. And that she faces all these challenges with her kids yet clearly has kept her sense of humor? Amazing.

So now that you have read this lovely post here? You will surely want to go read more at stark. raving. mad. mommy. Her absolute honesty, discussing her own issues, openly talking about medication and her kids, has been inspiring and helpful to so many.

Besides all the wonderful posts I've linked to in the introduction and above? Don't miss this fabulous one, about how to make special needs "cool" (by changing an acronym to "Jedi"), or this funny one about the trials of doing math homework with her twin daughters, or try this sweet and funny one, about the advantages/disadvantages of autism.

Or, for something completely different (the funny stuff that has nothing to do with special needs) read the post that put SRMM "on the map" for a lot of people: a hysterical treatise on those highly annoying childrens cartoons: Dear Dora, We Need To Talk.

Finally? You should follow her on Twitter, and go "like" her on her Facebook page, where she is just as outspoken and delightfully irreverent as she is on her blog.


Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

Half-Time

Yesterday was Jake's last day of school.

A half-day.

After a week of "half" days.

Really?

"Half?"

Because they feel more like a quarter to me.

Like the school bus picks him up, takes him to school, circles 'round the block a couple-a-three times, then picks him back up from school and deposits him into my hands.

And if I'm lucky?

I've had a chance to shower.

Or have just arrived back barely-on-time, breathless from some end-of-the-year-drama-class-play-last-publishing-party at Ethan's school.

Ethan and the other Tasmanian Devil

Or have been at Jake's Award Ceremony / Moving-Up celebratory lunch at his school.

Jake is a "Math Wizard"

Or have gotten my mother to the doctor and back in time to meet Jake's bus.

Or have gotten the teacher and therapist cards & gifts purchased and/or re-purchased.

(Um, I *might* have shot myself in the foot by picking up the B&N gift cards early in the spring, thinking I was being all efficient and not last-minutey. But I had forgotten the early-purchase-misplacement factor. And then I could not find them to save my life and had to buy new ones. Or maybe I didn't.)

(Honey, if you are reading this? We can use them in December, for teacher holiday gitfs. I should find them by then. Promise.)

(Yeah, the ADD is just so much fun sometimes.)

And now? Starts Jake's week off.

Vacation. (For Him.)

No school.

No camp.

Camp Mom.

All Mom, all the time.

So if the blogging is a little light in these weeks?

It's not you, it's me.

Really.

Me and Jake, on break together.

(Ethan's last day of school is Friday. He starts camp Monday. Seamless.)

I love my Jacob to pieces, but when that school bus comes round to pick him up late next week?

I'm going to kiss the driver, I swear.

(Just kidding, Honey, just kidding!)

Jake is doing great, really great. Everyone says so.

But? He also still talking ALL. THE. TIME.

So we're going to keep busy, go on lots of "field trips" like the one to the Liberty Science Center last weekend.

Who knew plumbing could be this much fun?

You know what we'll be doing this Friday morning, don't you? (Hint: Jake has been announcing "Cars 2 coming to theaters on June 24th!" since, oh, last September.)

And after I put Jake on his bus?

The silence will be deafening.

I will revel in it.

At least until Ethan wakes up, requesting morning kisses and hugs, checking last night's final WNBA basketball scores (NY Liberty plays all summer), bringing his own special flavor of noise to the table.

I'm also linking this post up to Shell's Pour Your Heart Out linky at Things I Can't Say


Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday on Monday: Jacob on my Mind

I know I'm a day late (hence the ridiculously long post title). When I didn't get to this on Sunday, I figured: OK, maybe next week.

But then Fadra wondered on Twitter where I was and reminded me the linky stays live all week. And then today I found there's some stuff stirring around in my brain that I wanted OUT, but I've got neither the time nor patience to craft a thoughtful and careful post.

I just wanted to spew it out in something more like... stream of consciousness. Perfect. Here goes:

@@@@@@@@@ 

Jacob, my son on the autism spectrum is weighing heavily on my mind these days. He's just... off, lately. If you don't know him it's hard to explain. He goes through these phases, these cycles. He's rolling along, moving ahead, feeling like we're on a nice even keel, and then Whammo. Not.

I mean, he's always autistic, clearly still on the spectrum, but when he's "up"?  When things are clicking, when his brain is humming, when he's "on," on a roll, on his game... whatever you want to call it, he is brighter, happier, cheerful, eager to engage, eager to learn, very much related.

Not necessarily easy to be around, since in his cheer and enthusiasm he is often still too loud, close, insistent and repetitive. But still, happiness makes up for a lot.

But when he's "off'? It's not that he doesn't still have these peppy days, hours, minutes. It's just that he is terribly and unpredictably variable. That the the "up" Jake interleaves with the "off" Jake, who is at times: cranky, Irascible, louder, withdrawn, sad, angry, tired, growling, manic, pale, wild, lethargic but generally, globally much LESS related. 

So even in his offness? Very variable. There are "cranked up" and "down & out" flavors to the off. He says "Get out of my way" and "Go away" much more than the "Mommy come here" boy of his happy, shiny days.

And when he's going through one of these variable times? On any given day, hour or minute, you never know which Jake you're going to get: amazing-Jake or not-here-Jake. Flip the coin, your guess is as good as mine.

And the not knowing who I'm getting and the not knowing why he is like this again? Is killing me slowly.

@@@@@@@@@

Yes, I'm probably being a little dramatic there. I have to say the last line surprised me. I didn't know I was going there until the words just popped out. But so they did.  So it's obviously something I'm feeling, however deeply buried it usually is.

Also, people? Not only did I write this in a real 5 minutes (I've been known to fudge a bit) I wrote it in a real New York five minutes... while riding on the #1 subway train, on my way to the midtown DMV to renew my street-parked-car's expired registration... at lunchtime... on a Monday... at the end of the month.

Glutton for punishment? Perhaps. But it needed to be done, and the ADD of me just could. not. do. it. until it was overdue. Sigh.


New to SOCS?  It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump.  Want to try it?  Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spell-checking. (BOY, that part is hard for me!) This is writing in the raw.

You can do it, too!  Click on the link and let's hear your 5 minutes of brilliance...

Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: One sleeps, the other doesn’t

Sunday, bloody Sunday.  Yawn.  OK...

@@@@@@@@@

This is not the first time I have complained whined ranted talked about this, (nor will it likely be the last) but tihs morning at 6:30 AM I sent out this tweet:

The puking thing last night was highly unusual (my kids have not been THANK GOODNESS stomach buggy pukey types, even when babies, they were not big into the spit-up thing).  Usually it’s just his brain that keeps Ethan up until 10, 11, 12 at night.  Every night. Talking talking talking.

And yes, he is my twin WITHOUT autism. And yes, I know how unusual that is. Jacob, the one WITH the autism is usually easy to put to bed. (Unusual for autism, I know.)  Really, he’s out like a light in like 5 minutes.

Jake has to get up at 6 AM for his bus on school days, and the downside to that is, once the habit sets into his brain? It doesn’t un-set. so weekends, holidays? Still 6, maybe 6:30 if I’m lucky.

But with Ethan his ADD or anxiety or some combination thereof makes him a terrible sleeper. It may also be his circadian rhythms. My husband and I are naturally both night owls, even as kids, too. We’re writers, this is not unusual. Comes with the territory for many.

And you know what I have also often said about apples and trees, yes?  When I was a kid I was scared, no, *terrified* of the dark. Slept with the light on until I was 14. Yes, 14.  Yes the light, full on, no wimpy, shadow inducing night-light for me. But I was an only child, I could do that without disturbing anyone else.

We live in a small NYC apartment, they HAVE to share a room. Which sucks in so many other ways, but I won’t go into that now.

But here’s the other, NEW thing.  While this is our normal pattern, It has suddenly gotten worse. Last night Ethan was unable to sleep because his stomach hurt (not unusual, anxiety often does this) but then? the puking. Ended around 1 am.

And, also? For the past 2 nights Jacob has suddenly been having trouble falling asleep, waking in the night, up BEFORE 6 yesterday…  We’ve been trying a new medication on him, one that 2 different doctors had high hopes would really help calm down the constant talking, quiet the busyness in his brain, help him focus. 

It may be doing a tiny bit of that.  But the main thing it seems to be doing is disturbing his sleep. And the One thing I have been able to count on is his being my good sleeper. CRAP!

Writing this down, I am realizeing I am more upset about this than I thought I was.  I was hoping this was the “magic bullet” for Jake. Both Dr. H AND Dr. N independently came up with this,  thought it might really make a big difference for him, that he was the right “type” to respond to this particular medication. CRAP! Crappity crap, crap!

And that’s so NOT how I love to end my posts, with “crap”. But today? It will have to do.

@@@@@@@@@

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post.  It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump.  Want to try it?  Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spell-checking. (BOY, that part is hard for me!) This is writing in the raw.

You can do it, too!  Click on the link and let's hear your 5 minutes of brilliance...

Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.

A Full Year of Bologna

One year ago today, on February 6th, 2010:

My father was still alive, but very busy dying.  And I was very busy caring for him and for my very sad, overwhelmed mother.

My son Jacob was still in a school that was not wonderful enough for him, where they did not truly see him, did not love or challenge him.  And so I was very busy trying to find a new Special Ed school for him for the coming academic year.

I sat down at my computer and wrote my first blog post, began this blog: The Squashed Bologna

And so on this, the occasion of my one year anniversary of starting this blog (or "Blogaversary" if you will), I thought I would reflect a bit and take you back to the beginning.

Someone asked me recently why I blog.  They didn't quite get it.  I suppose it seems odd to those who don't.  Like wearing your underwear on the outside for all the world to see.

For me the answer started out simply, and grew more complex as my blog writing and my relationship with the blogging world grew, expanded, and became more complicated, too.

The basic answer: I began blogging as my father was actively, painfully dying a long, drawn out, difficult death.  I just could. not. tell. one. more. person. what. was. happening. and. how. I was. doing.

A friend of mine was keeping a blog about children's books and what her kids were reading, and I loved reading her blog.  She told me how easy it was to just go on Blogger and start writing and encouraged me to do it.  And so I did.  (Thanks, Jill!)

I needed to be able to say to people: "You want to know what's going on with me and my Dad?  Read the (damn) blog."  I could pour it all out there and not have to tear myself up repeating everything over and over again to everyone.

I had thought up the title "The Squashed Bologna" some time ago, as I was feeling so caught up in sandwich generation stuff.  The few years leading up to my father's death were full of emergency room visits and hospitalizations; health crises and rehabilitations.  Many were the times I would disappear from my family for days on end to be by my father's or mother's side in hospitals.

I had also been writing about and thinking about autism for a long time (because of my son, Jacob), but privately, in my journal, just for me.  I had done a lot of research, learned a lot about neurobiology and brain biochemistry. Was turning into an autism auto-didact.

People had been encouraging me to write a book, but that seemed like such a big deal, and I couldn't picture taking on such a huge enterprise at that time.  Plus my ADDish brain balks at large projects, gets overwhelmed by the amount of details that need to be taken care of.  I freeze up, unable to begin, daunted.

A blog post however?  A trifling thing, short, sweet (at least in theory, I know my posts often go into overtime), un-daunting, attempt-able, do-able.  So I did.

As I began to write and post I realized that I wanted to use my blog to speak about autism and ADD and to tell sweet stories about my children, too.  I wanted to show what family life looked like to us; so, so different from what I had imagined while I was peacefully gestating.  (Well, maybe not so peacefully considering how nauseated and generally uncomfortable I was throughout my pregnancy.)

The good and bad about blogging, being self-published, is that there is immediate gratification there, a big plus for ADD-brained folks like me.  You write it, you hit the button, poof out it goes into the world, for better or worse.

Also?  I have spent pretty much all of my adult life as a blocked writer.  Everyone who has known me well has encouraged to write.  I have many pages of half written stories, plays and essays in files dating back to 1978.  Yeah.

Any time I came close to taking myself seriously about it, any time a writing teacher encouraged me, told me I was truly "a writer" and to stick with it?  It completely terrified me, freaked me out, caused me to drop my "pen" and not write another word for months, sometimes longer.

When James Baldwin (with whom I took an intimate writing seminar in college) praised my work?  Ack!  My writing mojo went cold for years afterward.

But there is something to be said for getting older, becoming a parent, learning to get over yourself, get on with it, learning to be someone who gets it done because it has to be done.  Old inhibitions, fears, neuroses, fall by the wayside.  (Well, some of them, anyway.)

I no longer care about meeting the definition of "a writer."  Simply, I write.  I call myself a writer.  Like me or not, read me or not.  Whatever.

And so I am writing, freeing up something inside me long dormant, long coiled up; my voice coming loose, unfurled.  Finding the storyteller within.  Letting my love of words, of language out into the world, through my blog.

And the other part of this?  Is the amazing community that I have found here in this cyber-world, the "blogosphere".  A world of writers, of (mostly) women, amazing and strong, unbelievably supportive (at least the ones I have chosen to connect with are).

And then there is the online special needs parenting community, which I could go on and on about.  I have, elsewhere, but I will just say this: they help to keep me sane. 
 
Obviously, I also have a personality that tends towards revealing rather than concealing, an over-sharing bent, or else I would be wearing my underwear on the inside, hidden away from view, like the rest of the non-blogging population.

And so here, among my blogging brethren, my over-sharing peers?  I feel mighty normal.  So now, instead of overwhelming my "real life" friends (whom I know love me very much) when I'm feeling intense or all soapbox-ranty, I can splay that all out here, and then tell people:

"You want to know about that?  OK, I can tell you, and possibly have your eyeballs roll around in their sockets by the time I'm through.  Or?  Read the damn blog."  (And this way you can skip the boring parts and I'll never know.)

Also?  I would like to take this moment to thank you, my readers: the ones I know from my real life, the ones I know from the blogosphere, and the ones I will never know, you who silently read and glide on.

That my words may have meaning for you; make you laugh, cry, think, see something in your own life in a new light?  Pleases me beyond knowing.

And finally?  May I say:  What a year this has been!  (I'm not going to re-cap it again, I've done that recently in my New Year's year-end wrap-up post.)

I'm just going to say:  Whew!  Glad that's over.  Let's move on.  (And please, nobody else die, OK?)

Where this next year, this next turn of the big wheel will take me?  I have not a clue.

I am working hard right now to be present each day; to fully be awake and aware of the individual moments, here with my family, paying attention.

And not JUST so that I can blog about it tomorrow.

Snow Day: Perfect for Two-Timing

There are actually two blog posts I really wanted to write for today.

One is supposed to be a short introduction to me and my blog for Household6Diva's Blizzard Bloghop:

And the other?  I wanted to share the lovely sweetness of yesterday's no-school Snow Day in photos and words.

As I was trying to decide which way to go, I thought: "why not have it both ways?" and thus this double purposed post was born.

{NOTE: If you are already familiar with me and my blog, don't need no stinkin' introduction, and just want the Snow Day news, simply skip down to the snow photo below for part two.}

First, The Squashed Bologna in a nutshell (perfect metaphor there, folks, think about it):

In February of 2010 my nearly 93 year-old father was actively dying, fast.  To avoid becoming completely squashed flat between caring for him, taking care of my soon-to-be-widowed mother, and taking care of my then 7 year-old twin boys with special needs (one of them is on the Autism Spectrum and the other has some ADD/anxiety) I began this blog.

Pouring out all my thoughts and feelings onto the page, finding my words instead of just howling helped me to sort things out, allowed me to plumb the depths without being torn apart by the pressure down there.

I found that I loved writing as much as I had when I was a girl, a young woman who had thought she might some day become a writer.

I write about the familiar: my family.  I write a lot about Death and Autism because these things press up against me every day.  I write about ADD because not only does my son have a brain that tends that way, but so do I, so you get to come along for the wild ride.

I write about love and thankfulness because that is what underlies all the other stuff, keeps it from descending into sadness and madness.

I write about friendship because without my friends I wouldn't be here, and I appreciate them with every fiber of my being.

I don't write much about my husband because he is a private man and the story of our marriage is half his, not really mine to tell.  (But he does come up from time to time.)

I also sometimes lighten things up, share delightful stories about my sons, Ethan and Jacob, now eight and a half.  Because I really am a funny, light-hearted person, most of the time (when no one is in the middle of dying that is).

Over the course of the past year I have gone from being an occasional writer to a steady, nearly every day one.  I am coming up on my "Blogaversary" and looking forward to seeing where this second year of blogging my life will take me, what 2011 has in store for us.

Now, 2010 was a fairly crap year: My father died, my Mother-in-law died, my gall bladder punked out on me.

But some mighty good things happened, too:

I started this blog and found a whole new amazing online community of bloggers, especially the Special Needs parenting bloggers.  And the Hopeful Parents site asked me to become one of their regular monthly writers.

We found a wonderful new school for Jacob that just "gets it," and where he is thriving.

Ethan started to fall in love with reading and books.

But, most importantly, we didn't let our losses drive us apart, but rather bind us tighter together as a family; sad but solid.

And that's us.  These nuts in this nutshell.

If, you've got a short attention span (no judgement here) and, curiosity satisfied, you're ready to move on, you can stop reading here, continue hopping with the hop.  If, however, you want to hear how the Squashed family rolls on a snow day and see some incredibly cute pictures of my sons and our snowman?  Read on for a bit.  It's short and sweet today.

(Well, what passes for short and sweet around here.  I didn't develop my frequently used blog tag: "Ruminating Rambles" and earn my title: "Queen of the Run-On Sentence {with parenthetical clauses}" for nothing you know)

Wednesday afternoon: snow coming down on Riverside Drive

And now the magnificence of our Snow Day:

Well, we, of course, had an official Snow Day yesterday, here in New York City, with an unexpected 19 fresh inches of the fluffy white stuff coming our way Wednesday into Thursday morning.

(Only the 9th time they have closed NYC public schools for a Snow Day since 1978.  I told you, we are NOT wimps about snow here in New York)

Our apartment building is right next to one of the best sledding hills in Riverside Park, so our apartment becomes "sledding central" on Snow Days.

Which means that yesterday we had a gaggle of 8 year-old boys (and a younger sibling) over both before and after the big outdoor sledding / snowman building / snowball fighting event.

Here is what it looked like out in the glorious snow:

Jake

This year's snowman: kind of wistful face, no?

Ethan

Our sledding hill: "Suicide Hill" Riverside Park at 90th Street

Jakey talks to the snowman

Ethan contemplates his next snowball fight target

Ethan and friend Sage defend their home turf

I loved the moody sky

An hour and a half in the snow and we were done. We retreated back to our apartment, peeled off sodden outer layers, hung them to drip into the tub, dry on the radiators.  Fresh dry socks from our excessed sock bin were distributed all around.

Lego towers were created and destroyed.  Apple slices and goldfish crackers were munched and crunched.  Vats of hot cocoa were guzzled (mocha coffee for the moms).  Mmmmm.  Snow Day.

Vote for me yet today?  One click is all you need to show me your love!

It's National Delurking Day, OK?

Today is National Blog Delurking Day.  Who knew?

What that means is that if you come to read my blog and tiptoe quietly away -- a perfectly acceptable practice the other 364 days in the year -- today, January 14th, you are supposed to stop for a moment and leave me a comment.

It needn't be much.  Hello is fine.

But if you'd like to tell me a little something about yourself?  That would be awesome.  Anything you want.

Need a prompt?  OK....

What is your name?  Or, if you desire anonymity, what do you wish your name had been?

Where do you live?  If you could live anywhere else in the world, where would that be?

What is your favorite color?

What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?  (And what movie is that a quote from?)

Also, because this is all about comments?  I thought this would be a grand opportunity to explain my policy for my replying to your comments... um, I don't really have one.

OK, that means I have some more 'splaining to do...

My blog is currently on Google's Blogger platform, and their one main drawback (to me) is that their innate comments system sucks.  You cannot directly reply to a comment, comment threading does not exist.

I felt frustrated by that.  Many of my favorite bloggers, my blogging mentors (gals, you know who you are) are wonderful at responding to every or nearly every comment they receive.   And I am sure that is one reason I felt so close to these women so quickly: we are always engaging in a multiply looped conversation. 

(And if you've ever had a child in speech therapy, I don't need to explain conversation loops to you, and how important they are to relatedness.)

So I installed the Intense Debate commenting system on my blog the last time I gave it a facelift.  But then I discovered two things:

First, it's a bit buggy here.  Comments -- both the counter and the link to them -- disappear on the home or multi-post view of my blog.  You have to be in the single post view (which you enter by clicking on the post's title link, either at the top of the post or in the archive list on the left) to see and leave comments.

I need to get this fixed, but I'm a techno weenie married to a likewise non-computer-geek of a husband (oh, how I envy those of you married to your IT guys).

Second?  I suck at consistently replying to comments.  I always want to.  I intend to.  But?  Shit happens.  All the time.  Including in the whirlwind that is my brain.

Some days I'm all over the awesome, and actually respond to all your comments within 6 hours.

Others?  I figure if I haven't responded by two, three days out it's just too late to call it a conversation at that point, and you are likely to not come back to see the response.  So I kind of just read and slink away.

So my non-policy policy is this:

Know that I ALWAYS do read each and every comment and I appreciate them so much.  I feel connected to you, I am so happy you have felt connected enough to me to comment.

On the days when I have time and energy?   And when I am not in the midst of a kitchen disaster or another skirmish in the homework wars or recovering from surgery?   I will try to respond to all comments.

Other days, I may not respond to any, but please know it's not you, it's me.  No, really, it IS me.  Damn, wish there were a way to say this so you'd believe me... how's this:

Remember, some days I am all ADD-rific and get very little done.  IT. REALLY. IS. ME.

And sometimes I may respond to only one or two comments in a post that has received many, and please don't feel slighted it its not yours.  The comments I have responded to may have really needed a response, or touched something specific in me, or been from an actual non-blog world IRL friend that I really needed to say something to.

Or, also highly likely, I had three seconds to sit down at the computer to respond and that's the first comment I read at that moment.   Randomness, luck (or lack thereof if my response sucks), pure chance; all significant factors here.

OK, that's now enough about me.

Tell me something about you, I'm listening....

Looking for Comments? I still haven't fixed my "Intense Debate disappearing comment link on home page problem" yet, so if you are viewing this on my home page and want to read my comments or make one of your own, click on the post's title to bring you to the post's page view. Voila!   Still don't see them? Is your browser's pop-up filter set too high? (Hopefully this will get fixed soon - sorry!)

N is for Neurotypical

N is for Neurotypical.

(Our word for what a lot of the world calls "normal")

Something highly over-rated.

Something that we are not.

The squashed family is mostly Neurodiverse.

Jake has Autism.

(OK, technically he carries a PDD-NOS diagnosis, sometimes called "autism light" as opposed to full-blown-hits-all-the-points-in-the-DSM autism.  He is clearly on the Autism Spectrum, has an Autism Spectrum Disorder; there are just so many different ways to say this and they all boil down to the same thing.  I am not one for mincing words or finely parsing exactly where on the spectrum his particular snowflake variation falls. I keep it simple, say he has Autism, leave it at that. Autism is not a word I am afraid of.) 

Ethan has some ADD. Also?  Probably a higher than average propensity towards anxiety.

Me?  ADD, baby.  I'm all ADD-rific.  Also?  I'm more than a wee bit neurotic.  (But you knew that, already, no?)

My husband, the boys' father?  I don't talk about him that much here.  He is my polar opposite, as much a private man as I am a compulsive over-sharer.  And I try to respect that.  His stories are his to tell.  Or not. 

And did I ever mention that my mother has ADD, too, finally diagnosed when she was in her 70s?

Apples don't fall far from trees, do they?  No indeed.

Neurotypical? 

Not in my basket.

We think differently.  Sometimes making lightning leaps to land in an instant where others' plodding steps might take them months to get to.

Other times we find truly intolerable a circumstance you find merely mildly annoying.  Or pleasurable.

Our brains are different.

To quote Temple Grandin's mother for the thousandth time: Different, not less.

I'm thinking of printing up a t-shirt, our slogan:
"Say it loud: Neurodiverse and Proud"

It should have rainbows and snowflakes on it, but also be manly enough for boys to wear.

Could you, would you wear one, too? 

Join us here in the neurodiverse zoo?

(And no, I have no idea why I just channeled Dr. Seuss there.  But I find that so amusing, I'm going to stop myself from editing it out & let it stand, in all its goofy glory.)

This post has been inspired by and linked up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday writing meme. We're obviously up to the letter "N" this week.


Looking for Comments? I still haven't fixed my "Intense Debate disappearing comment link on home page problem" yet, so if you are viewing this on my home page and want to read my comments or make one of your own, click on the post's title to bring you to the post's page view. Voila!   Still don't see them? Is your browser's pop-up filter set too high? (Hopefully this will get fixed soon - sorry!)

Wordless Wednesday (now with more words)

I was going to skip Wordless Wednesday today because I feel like talking, but I've got a few readers that would disappoint (and I'd hate to do that).  So this post is going to be a double header.

First: a few cute pictures of my family.  And then?  Some chatter because my brain is all a-clatter.  And me?  I like to share the noise.

It's the second day of winter.  Let's take a walk down memory lane today to winters past...

Here's one from 2004:

Jakey and Me, February 2004 (when my hair was still blonde-ish)

Snowy day, December 2005: 

Time to get 3 year-old twins into bundled into snowsuits?  Half hour.

Maximum time 3 year-olds will spend out sledding?  15 minutes.

How about these from New Year's Eve, 2008?   We had been up in Great Barrington and were supposed to return to the city that day, but got socked in by a blizzard.  So we played in the snow for hours.  Yipeee!

That was a lot of snow!

What could be better than a toboggan pulled by Dad?

Snowy Jacob

Snowy Ethan

Looking at these pictures is making me long for snow.  So far this winter: bitter cold aplenty, but no snow.  Sigh.

And now, for part 2 -- those pesky words:

I'm actually feeling human today.  Today, for the first time in nearly two weeks I woke up without feeling like I was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe.

I forgot how reductive pain is, how it strips the layers of the self away.   I have been hunkered down in survival mode for so long, I was shocked by clarity and lightness.

It made me see how I have been not thinking for days.  When you are deep in the brain fog you can't see it, it just feels like atmosphere.  It's only when it lifts that I understand how limited of vision, short-sighted as well as short-tempered I have been of late.  I know I've been less than 100% present, but how much less was not clear until today; today when I am at least somewhat myself.

My beast-brain had been at the forefront, large and in charge; now somewhat quelled.  My executive functioning is up and running (as much as it ever is in this ADD brain of mine, that is) my frontal lobes asserting themselves once more.

I felt like throwing myself a welcome home party.  I've missed me, truly.  But I so didn't have time for that.  I had so much that needed to get done, that I had not just left un-done but hadn't even realized was sliding off the plate.  Especially: arrangements for my post-surgery recovery, which surely involve other people tending to my children for a few days.

Yesterday I slept all day.  Really... ALL. DAY.

I made it to Ethan's class publishing party at his school, got the car re-parked (NYC alternate parking, it was on the wrong side) then came home and collapsed.   Set the alarm for 3:55... five minutes before Jake's bus wait-time begins and thanked the gods that someone else was picking up Ethan to take him to Hebrew School.  Then?  Sleep.

My husband and I have a running joke...  I say: "I'm so tired I could sleep for a week."

He says: "Honey, that's called a coma."

I pretend to consider the consequences, then conclude: "That's OK, I'll take it."

Only yesterday?  It wasn't so funny.  I really did feel that I was nanometers away from not being able to wake.

If you could call the zombie-like state in which I have been carrying out my minimalist functioning  "awake."  It's a miracle that I have been able to execute the bare minimum required of competent parenting (kids are taken to school and picked up, fed, clean, homework done and in bed before midnight - CHECK!)

So you can imagine how happy I was today to be able to think, to function like a normal human being (well, my usual crude imitation of one, anyway).

And all this makes me think of Jake, and wondering how his level of internal distraction and discomfort is contributing to his sometime foggy state.   When he's so busy trying to get enough input to make sense of his senses, there's no room in his brain for the other good stuff.

He clearly has attention issues, but they're not of the ADD variety.  We've tried ADD meds; they do nothing for him, just make him highly cranky and even more distracted (if that's possible) and who needs that?  His attention issues are puzzling and seeing how distracted and completely unable to think I've been these past two weeks gets my brain a-humming (now that it's finally awake).

Anyway, I don't have any answers to this, no conclusions drawn.  Just musings and questions, lines of inquiry worth chasing down a bit, sometime.  When I have some spare time.  (Don't all fall off your chairs laughing now.)

And now my energy is flagging, and the sofa so inviting.  My spurt of productivity of has sputtered out; time for rest and renewal.  If I am going to retain my human form tomorrow?  I must now put down the mouse, step away from the keyboard.

Goodnight, my friends, goodnight. 

I’m linking up to Wordless Wednesday at Angry Julie Monday.

Looking for Comments? I still haven't fixed my "Intense Debate disappearing comment link on home page problem" yet, so if you are viewing this on my home page and want to read my comments or make one of your own, click on the post's title to bring you to the post's page view. Voila!

I Fear I Make a Terrible Guest

Today I'm not here.

Well, I am here, but only for long enough to tell you to go there, to Nichole's blog In These Small Moments, where I am her guest blogger of the day for her regular series of guest posts: "Small Moment Mondays."

Click on this button and go read me there:

And than stay and read deep into Nichole, because she is both a refreshing cup of cool water and a warming wonderful hot caramel mochaccino on a blustery day.

A wonderful writer, a supportive friend, a thoughtful and loving mother.  A generous and gracious supporter of others writing.  Someone who has experienced more loss, seen more sorrow in her life than anyone this lovely should.

All of her writing is terrific, but you might want to take her suggestions and get to know her through her favorite "Featured Posts" list, conveniently found in her left hand column. 

Nichole is not someone anyone should ever torture.  But I must admit, my dear readers, that is exactly what I have done this week.

I didn't set out to be mean, I started this journey with the best of intentions.  I truly thought a post I was working on had Small Moment Mondays written all over it, so I inquired if she would ever consider me for a guest post slot.  Nichole answered graciously (as she does everything) saying she'd already been planning to ask me if I would be her guest soon.  Synchronicity!  We're off to a great start!

A date was set for the following month, way off in the future.  (If, like me, you also have ADD, right now you are hearing a voice in your head going: "Warning, Will Robinson, danger, danger!")

I was excited, I was all hot to guest, I was raring to go.  And then?

And then it all froze up.  I was in Siberia.  Every post I wrote, including the one that had inspired my inquiry, turned into something else.  Lovely posts for MY blog, but for Nichole?  Bupkis.

I kept thinking I should write to her to let her know I was not there yet, not even close.  But instead I kept starting more posts thinking *THIS* would be the one, only to watch them drive off the cliff once again into long rambling tangles messes full of "big ideas" or cranky, humorously complaining rants (otherwise known as my usual posting styles).

Then I got really busy.  Distracted.

Thanksgiving.  Chanukkah, blasted early this year.   Dinners and parties.   Presents to buy and wrap.  Latkes to purchase.  (You didn't think I was going to say "fry" did you?  Maybe I have not thoroughly explained the nature of my un-domestic-goddessness at this point in my life.)

And then on Saturday, as I was heading off to our Synagogue's Chanukkah party, I received this DM on Twitter from Nichole, an ever so gentle and gracious check-in:

Oh, Holy Crap!

So I sent her a stream of DMs back - about 10 in a row - because seriously, people, 140 characters is not nearly enough space to back pedal and hem and haw and wheel and deal and promise but not promise and, um, I'dbeentryingandhadamillionunfinishedposts and wasstillworkinghardtofinishone and IthoughtI'dhaveitdone yesIwillbutmaybeIwon't and...

I am not copying and pasting them in here, way too embarrassing.  Let's just say that they were a cut above "the dog ate my homework, I promise I'll bring it in tomorrow."  It was all true, but really, did Nichole need my anxiety about finishing this piece splayed out for her (in 140 character mini-blasts, no less)?

Um, I don't think so.

She replied.  Graciously.  Let me know she understood how the holidays can be a stressful time and maybe I had too much on my plate, she would write something herself for this Monday.  She would take my post whenever I was ready and re-schedule me for January.

There was not a hint of reproach in her "voice" but I knew I had disappointed her.  And that just did not sit right by me.  I had made a commitment, damn it.

So?

Oh, Holy Crap, I have a post to write for Monday.

But unlike my own blog where I can, if need be, finish a post at 11:59 p.m. and have that count for the day, I have to send this to someone else.  Nichole has to get it BEFORE Monday at 6 a.m.  Significantly before.

So even though I said I wouldn't and couldn't, I stayed up til 4 a.m. Saturday, the night before our little Chanukkah party (because sleep is only for the sane).

Got it done.

Chucked everything else I had written (and some of those are turning out to be damn fine posts for my blog, you'll be seeing them soon) and wrote a fresh post that ended up being a lot about the process of figuring out how to write my small moments post.

But don't worry, me being me, there's death, autism and ADD in there.  Also a little humor.

Nichole: I publicly apologize for any and all agony I caused you while waiting for my post.  You are a very nice person, and no one should ever torture you.  When, someday, I meet you in real life, I will buy you the beverage of your choice as a token of my gratitude for your kind patience.

So now I figure I should come with a warning label:  If you ask me to write a guest post for you, you have to give me a deadline, or it will never get done.  But then, you should expect me to torture you and make you think it might not get done, but then in the end I will pull through and get it done, because I just can't stand to disappoint my friends.

Um, think I'm going to get any more guest post offers?

Well, you never know, bloggers being a generally neurotic lot, I might.  They just might understand.

And also?  If they're smart?  Have another post waiting in the wings just in case I truly crash and burn next time without pulling something useful from the wreckage.

So, now, if you haven't done it already, click on that button up at the top.  Or this one, conveniently placed just below (because I'm all about convenience, don't you know):

See you back here tomorrow!


Looking for  Comments?  I still haven't fixed my "Intense Debate disappearing comment link on home page view problem" yet, so if you are viewing this on my home page and want to read my comments or make one of your own, click on the post's title to bring you to the post page view. Voila!