Listen to Your Mother in NYC today!!!!!

It's here!!! It's today!!!!!

The third annual NYC Listen to Your Mother show will be presented TODAY at Symphony Space (on Manhattan's Upper West Side) at 5 PM. All info HERE.

Don't have your tickets yet? What are you waiting for?  Ok, yes, you CAN just walk up to the box office at showtime and buy them (it's a BIG theater).

And it's going to be a GREAT SHOW again this year - more wonderful stories, more wonderful storytellers. And I can say that without sounding too self-serving because this year I'm "just" a producer, not also a reader.

I read two years in a row. It was a moving and fulfilling experience, but time to make room for new faces.

The best part about not reading?  No angst over what to wear, the spanx or breathe dilemma. Also, as I am working the front of the house - box office and business issues - I can sit IN the house and watch the show with the audience, which is a fabulous experience I am looking forward to.

And, as always, part of our box office goes to a charity that helps women and families. This year it's the wonderful Women's Prison Association, represented by Alysia Reiner of our 2012 cast and the TV show Orange is the New Black.

I hope you can come see our show, or, if you're not local here, that there is a show near you to go to -- because we're in 32 cities around the country this year!!!!

Thanks for all the well wishes and leg breaking already received. And now... lets DO this thing!

Good-bye to 2012: My year in pictures and posts

2012: can you say "Roller Coaster"?

I know, I know, I know! I'm supposed to be looking strictly forward, not backwards any more by now, nearly one full week into the new year.

But still... the other day, at the end of 2012, while putting up my annual "Best of Blog" post, I realized that while it may showcase my best writing of the year, it didn't really tell the story of how my LIFE went in 2012. I then had promised that post - this post - "tomorrow." But then life got... lifey, you know (kids home on school vacation! autism! ADD! my mother! blah, blah, blah...) and it didn't get finished.

So today I will remedy that, sharing with you the high- (and low-) lights of my 2012. In other words...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

The year started off busy.

I was co-producing the first annual New York City Listen to Your Mother Show (working with a wonderful team of women), and we announced auditions in January, held them in February, finalized the cast in early March.  I wrote a bit about the process here: LTYM-NYC has made a busy bee out of me. 

There were also production logistics and sponsorship details. And oh, I was also the webmistress of the very active LTYM-NYC website. Busy, busy, busy.

Which was a good thing, as these last few years winter has been a very tough season for me, dragging me into the abyss, as it is now so psychically interwoven with my father's long drawn out death three years ago. That, however, was the impetus to begin my blog, and thus in February I had my 2 year blogaversary...

Which I completely failed to blog about as I was so busy with LTYM-NYC.

Dad & Me, Riverside Park, 1998

I did, however, blog about those other anniversaries: my father's passing on March 13th: Two Years and what would have been his 95th birthday on March 25th: Not my Father's 95th Birthday post

LTYM-NYC 2012 1st read-through

Also in March, however, LTYM came to the rescue and lifted me up out of my mourning with a wonderful rehearsal (so much talent!): Tales from the LTYM Rehearsal

Throughout this time, there were still, of course, the children.

Jake's drawing  of "a guy," 2012

Jake was drawing. A lot. And doing some pretty amazing work for a then not yet 10 year-old (with autism, no less). I shared quite a bit of his work in posts like these: Art and Autism and An Autist and an Artist  and More from Jacob's Batman files

Ethan looking very Dylan-esque, 2012

Ethan was... being Ethan. His usual combination of bright, delightful and exasperating. Also often sleepless, as documented here: Go (the F) to sleep, Ethan. (until we discovered the magic of melatonin, later in the year).

Ethan + melatonin = falls asleep before midnight - yay!

April was, as always, Autism Awareness month. So I wrote a lot about autism, and my wonderful autistic son Jacob, including: My 1 in 88 and Still Aware and Still Accepting

Jake 2012 from

One Face of Autism

And then there was May....

May 2012 was a watershed month for me. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

The high?

Cast of 2012 Listen to Your Mother Show

New York City's Listen to Your Mother show was performed on May 5th: Listen to Your Mother - an amazing ride!

I was the producer and I read my piece: "Holding Hands" - about a quiet moment with my elderly mother. (See the video here: "Holding Hands")

It was a wonderful experience, deeply fulfilling.

AND? I published a post about my experience in... THE NEW YORK TIMES Motherlode blog: A ‘Sandwich Generation’ Caregiver Heads Back to Work

But then, at the end of the month?

My mother in the ICU, May 2012

On May 25th life changed irreparably in the opposite direction: my mother fell, broke her hip,  had surgery. She nearly died, went through various rehabs, but never fully recovered.

My life became about taking care of her and figuring out how and where she was going to live out the rest of her life, and since then supporting her in the Long Island nursing home she became a permanent resident of in August.

Oh, and continuing to be a mother to my own kids throughout this all, too, of course.

Well, summer wasn't all doom & gloom. In the middle of all this I had a funny guest post published: I am Aiming Low today!

Also in July? My sons, they turned... TEN!!!!!!

E & J at 10 - & impossible to get them in one photo together!

And, yeah, I wrote about that: Last Day of Nine and Counting up to TEN!

August was BlogHer, once again in NYC - thank goodness because i could not possibly have traveled away from my mother this year.

Me reading "Holding Hands" as a VOTY at BlogHer12

And I was honored by being one of the "Voices of the Year" keynote speakers at BlogHer: Listen to the Voices. An AMAZING experience: First Thoughts on BlogHer '12

And then it was Vacation and camps and "adventures" (If it's not one thing, it's a flat tire and 103 fever.) including lots and lots of driving -- all the late summer madness.

Plus, my mother?

She FELL and landed in the hospital. Right in the middle of all of this. Of course.

September saw the return to school (there IS a god) for Ethan (First Day of Fifth Grade) and Jacob (Hopeful about the New School Year), my mother's 90th birthday, and I was on Huffpost Live! talking about Sandwich Generation issues, naturally.

The rest of the fall was more Sandwich Generation juggle...

Getting a call while I was with my family at The Harlem Globetrotters that my mother was being shipped off for observation at a mental hospital for threatening to kill herself with a butter knife. (You just can't make this stuff up, people!)

Katie and me

But also I was an invited guest blogger at The Katie Couric Show (Sandwich Generation topic, of course): Amy Grant talks (and sings) about Caring for Aging Parents on Katie Couric, and I was there...   And wrote a guest post for Katie's blog: Caring For My Aging Parents

October was also NY Comic Con and Halloween and, of course The Hurricane (Running before the storm) which left us unscathed but me feeling Survivor Guilt.

I blog-yelled at Ann Coulter for using the "R-word": Dear Ann Coulter: This is who you insult with your...

And then in November, Obama got reelected, which mattered to me a great deal: A Democratic Process

Mom and her brother, my Uncle Walter

And I was able to spring my mother from the home & bring her out to my Aunt & Uncle's house for (day after) Thanksgiving, which was wonderful: Second Thanksgiving 

In December I struggled.

But there WAS Hanukkah!

Ethan chanting the candle-lighting blessing (Hebrew School paying off)

 
And then Newtown happened, and I came a bit undone. But then the amazing Autism Shines movement sprang up to counteract the media distortions depicting autism as "dangerous" and autistics as potential violent killers.

I am proud to say my friends put this together and I was a part of spreading the word, with my posts This is Jacob. This is autism. and Autism Shines On.

Oh, one final thing I am happy and proud of... throughout this year I have done a regular monthly feature - a Round-Up of What I Loved on OTHER People's Blogs. I love curating and helping to create community.

And now? Now? It's a New Year! Looking forward at last. (Whew!)

Autism Shines On

Only a few days old, the Autism Shines Facebook page (with a website soon to come) has now touched thousands of lives. I am happy and proud to have been a part of this from the beginning.

Because my boy? He so shines. With love and joy and happiness. With the light of a thousand suns.

Is he decidedly different? You betcha. So what?

I adore every atom of his being. He owns my heart.

Come see my son amidst his people.

Come see all these beautiful autistic folks with their spirits shining through.

Share your own photos.

And let me leave you with one more image, something to remind us how silly it is to make assumptions about people merely because of a diagnosis on the autism spectrum...

Listen To Your Mother is back and badder than ever!

I've been sitting on this for a while, so it is with a great sigh of relief that I can finally shout out to the world: Listen to Your Mother is returning to NYC in 2013!

That's right, once again, this May, I will have the honor and privilege of producing the Listen to Your Mother show, here in New York City. I will again be working with the killer team of Director Amy Wilson and Associate Producer Holly Fink. And this year we will be joined by the lovely and talented Shari Simpson AKA Dusty of the blog Earth Mother just means I'm dusty.

If you're one of those really organized types, you'll want to save the date. This year we'll be performing the show on Mothers Day itself: May 12th, 2013, in the early evening.

If you don't know what all this is about? Here it is (in the words of Ann Imig who started this whole thing):

LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER (LTYM) is a national series of live readings by local writers in celebration of Mother's Day. Born of the creative work of mothers who publish online, each production is directed, produced, and performed by local communities, for local communities.

LTYM began with one show of local writers reading in Madison Wisconsin on Mother’s Day 2010.  The video of the show was posted online in its entirety, and so LTYM reached a global audience and garnered a huge response.

Bloggers across the country began asking to host LTYM in their home towns, and so in 2011 Ann took the project national with shows in 5 cities across the country. And then in 2012 it expanded to 10 cities - including New York City!

The mission of each LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER production is to take the audience on a well-crafted journey that celebrates and validates mothering through giving voice to motherhood–in all of its complexity, diversity, and humor.

Last year's show was amazing. I loved every minute of putting it on, from the auditions, to the rehearsals, to maintaining the local website, and all the hard work that went into making it happen. Working with Holly and Amy and Betsy was a dream. Our cast was an incredibly talented group of wonderful women (and one man) and I can't imagine a better one. And then of course there was the show itself, a highlight of my year.

And this year? (Drum roll, please) ... TWENTY-FOUR cities around the country! Yes, 24! Watch this lovely announcement video to see them all listed: Introducing Listen To Your Mother 2013!

And if there's one near you? You should definitely consider coming out to audition (it's a wonderful experience, whether you get cast or not) and most certainly go see the show, come May!

The production teams in each of these 24 cities will be announced soon (with 9 out of last year's 10 cities returning this year too), and I have to say I am bubbling over with excitement about how many of my dear blogging friends around the country are coming on board. This is some mad crazy talent pool here, and you will be thrilled when you read that list, too.

Watch for that announcement on the main Listen to Your Mother site next week. And in the days and weeks to come, more information about the shows around the country and right here in NYC will appear there too. Also please follow us on Facebook and Twitter for timely announcements.

And if you want to see what we were up to last year? Here's my post linking to the VIDEOS of both the NYC show and all the others as well: The LTYM Videos have Launched!

And also, because hey, it's MY blog, in case you haven't seen it yet, here's the video of me reading "Holding Hands" at the 2012 LTYM-NYC:

Stay tuned for more soon!

A Democratic Process

Tuesday was a pretty intense day around here. Both kids off school again, after having been back for only ONE, after that unexpected week off for Hurricane Sandy. Ethan had homework to do for the first time in a week, and yes, that went about as well as expected.

And, of course, it was election day.

The boys and I had been out all morning at a movie-and-lunch birthday party followed by some errands. I had not yet had a chance to vote.

I had been hearing tales all day long of 45 minute waits to vote, and the idea of being trapped on a crowded line with both of my boys (who get along about as well as a pair of rock-em-sock-em robots) was unappealing to say the least.

In past years I have relished taking a kid with me into the booth to talk about voting with him and have him tip the switches and pull the big lever at the end. But I knew there would be no such satisfying conclusion to the process this time, as New York City had switched over from the old mechanical voting booths to electronic voting.

So I made the (wise, wise, wise) decision to leave the boys home with their dad while I went off to vote.

When I arrived at the public school that was my polling place (new this year, they had shuffled the districts yet again) I was greeted by a very disheartening scene: a line that stretched not only out the door, but also... around the corner... all the way down the whole block... around the next corner... and 3/4 of the way down THAT block.

The line at my polling place as I left, still 2+ hours

And, we were told, this was only the half of it. The line was just as long INSIDE the building, too.

Yes, it was going to be a two hour process to vote, with one hour of it waiting outside on a very cold day. (Thank goodness I'd worn my hat and gloves!)

But I didn't even think for a second about leaving and retuning home un-voted and defeated. Even though I may have skipped an occasional inconsequential year (nothing really to vote on besides judges running uncontested, etc.) I have voted in pretty much every election since I turned eighteen, and most certainly every presidential one.

And this one? Very important to me (see Tuesday's post: Obama, Obama, Obama). Even though New York State was certain to go to Obama without my one lone vote, I knew how important it was that his electoral college win be backed up by a win in the popular vote too, and there my vote absolutely did count.

So I resigned myself to waiting. Luckily, the moment I stepped into the line, an old friend from the neighborhood popped on right behind me. Our kids had gone to the same pre-school, and they used to live across the street from us, but all that had been quite some time ago, so we had years of catching up to do -- the perfect distraction from an otherwise potentially excruciating wait.

Thankfully, just about the time my nose and toes were starting to freeze up, our part of the line had snaked its way into the building. In the meantime, the woman behind us in line had joined into our conversation, a retired teacher with grown kids who had lived in the neighborhood for years and years.

Also, many other neighbors and friends old and new were spotted, saying hello as they walked back to join the end of line or offer their sympathies as they were joyfully exiting the building. All in all, there was quite a neighborly, community-like feeling bubbling up all around us, completely appropriate to the civic-minded venture that is voting.

While I was in line, a friend texted me, letting me know she had come to vote with her youngest child in tow, seen the line and fled, knowing it was melt-down worthy. She asked me to get the scoop on how late she could show up and still be able to vote, and that's when I found out the "On the line at 9" rule. I let her know if she was here and in line by 9 (when the polls closed in NY) she would get to vote, even if it took 2 hours (and it did).

So, after all that waiting, I have to say the electronic voting process seemed a little... anti-climactic. I missed those old mechanical voting booths with their heavy crimson curtains, smelling of metal and machine oil.

I had fond memories of going to vote with my mother for years and years of my childhood, feeling shocked at how different my school building looked when it was full of adults and voting machines instead of its usual cohort of kids. I had stood with her in those selfsame booths, tipped down the switches, pulled the big lever for her, heard that satisfying ker-CHUNK that let you know your vote counted, was being tallied.

I like voting booths. There is a feeling of hush inside them, of being sequestered from the world, making your choices in secrecy, then whoosh -- as your vote goes in, the curtains open. A perfect dramatic exit.

There was none of that in the new process. It's like taking a standardized test - you get a piece of printed paper to bubble in your choices on. A "privacy booth" is just a tiny high desk on wheels with three raised sides, white melamine, nothing booth-like about it. Then you walk to the other side of the room and a bored woman looks on as you stick your paper through a computer scanner and hand it off to her afterward. Your only satisfaction: the words "Ballot Registered" or some such pops up on the screen after "scanning."

"That's it?" I thought as I hesitated for a moment before walking away. I missed the sacred feeling inside those old booths something fierce; that sense of completion upon exiting them. But what's done is done, the world has moved on and so must I.

I stepped out into the even more chill evening, two hours after having arrived, and briskly walked the six blocks home. When I got home Dan was finally able to head off to his office, voting, himself, on the way.

So Dan was working late, and Jake went to bed his usual early time, as election results tip way too far on the abstract scales to hold his interest. But Ethan stayed up with me for some time glued to the TV set, watching MSNBC (the only channel that didn't make me stabby) as the results came trickling in.

He fell asleep on the sofa, his feet in my lap, about an hour before the decisive state - Ohio - dropped into the Obama camp and victory was nigh. I called Dan to let him know and we quietly cheered together by phone.

Watching Obama's acceptance speech, I was proud of my nation for choosing to stand by this man, who, though clearly a flawed human, like all politicians, I believe has his heart in the right place, and is in possession of a soul.

Which is further evidenced in this, much smaller, but equally heartfelt and moving speech he gave when he stopped by his Chicago campaign headquarters, unannounced, to thank his campaign workers:

Hoping you enjoyed your voting process, whatever the outcome meant to you. And now I'm done with politics for the bit, and will shortly be back to my regularly scheduled program of old people and autism...

There but for fortune

My Jake

"I love you, Mommy."

He says it quietly these days. Sometimes loudly. Spontaneously. At the dinner table last night, as I sat down. Often enough to almost take it for granted. Almost. But also never. Because my boy is autistic.

Because once I did not know if Jacob would ever say "Mommy" let alone "I love you."

Once I did not know if ever there would be conversation, a back and forth, a flow. And now, of course, I find myself begging for a break from Jake's constant need for engagement.

The conversations are odd, of course, bringing smiles or bewilderment to the faces of the folks waiting at the bus stop with us (for the dreadful will-it-ever-come M104) as we repeat topics over and over, revisiting them cyclically as the waiting goes on and on, and Jake walks in circles, tighter or wider, to relieve the anxiety of the when-will-the-bus-come unknown.

There had been good news from the ophthalmologist: Jake no longer needs glasses. Another thing we had thought might never come to pass. But of course my son being a creature of habit greets this news with none of the joy his twin brother Ethan had three years ago, upon the same pronouncement.

"I. Want. My. GLASSES!" he bellows as I explain patiently (for I knew this would involve much patience, greeted this "good" news with trepidation, fearing just such a reaction) that "the eye doctor says you don't need them any more, the glasses did their job, they're finished."

Jacob's school's half-day Friday had seemed the perfect opportunity for his annual eye exam. And it turned out fortuitous in so many other ways, as I had a real need of my son that day. A need to see him, to hold him tight.

My community was hit by tragedy Thursday: a family lost two children to unfathomable, senseless violence. And when I say my community, I mean more than just we live in the same neighborhood, I mean we have a connection to this family (although I do not know them personally). 

There was a bit of the same feeling around the Upper West Side right afterwards as there was on 9/11: a sense of shell shockedness, a sense of there-but-for-fortune-ness. Not as universal, more of an echo; but still, more than a bit spooky.

"Why? why? why?" drummed over and over in my head as I walked about the streets. Taking Ethan to school Friday, morning the parents were out in full force. Those of us who often send our kids in with "the neighbors" could not seem to do it, needing to kiss their heads personally at the last possible moment and watch their backs recede into red brick buildings.

So many of us appeared with eyes dark circled, earned from 3 am checks of our slumbering children. How long had it been since I had stood in a doorway, watched two small rib cages rise and fall in the near darkness?

My mind kept curling back, all day long, to the mother, the family. The mother (like so many of us) employing others to watch her children, in spite of being an at-home hands-on mom, because when you have more than one child, having help is... very helpful.

I return again and again to the screaming everyone says was bloodcurdling, primal, knowing that such sounds would be erupting from me were I ever to come upon my children, likewise undone.

I cancelled my Friday evening plans (an old friend's play). We sat together for a family dinner, dusting off the Shabbat candlesticks and lighting them, finding comfort in familiar, in ritual, in ancient things that continue.

Finding more than comfort in my son's words as I sat at the table; "I love you mommy" taken for granted never, appreciated now more than ever. And now I attempt to embrace sleep, to resist the siren call of watching my children slumber, reassuring myself of their continued existence on this planet.

If will alone could protect them, keep them safe all their lives, then all our children would live forever.

And so I hug my sons a little tighter now.

Please hug your children every day.


Finally, I can never say or think the words "there but for fortune" without hearing Phil Ochs sing them. So here he is, now doing just that:

Hopeful, Kindred Parents

Families with autism (and other "invisible" special needs) are all around us, everywhere, everyday. I never used to notice them, specifically, pointedly, until we became them. And now I can't not see, not try to connect whenever possible. 

When my kids were little still, my eyes would always be drawn to the boy apart, walking the perimeter of the playground, hand bumping along each link of the chain link fence, on his toes, eyes cast down; to the girl tearing her dress off, rolling in and eating sand, screeching one octave higher and louder than any other kid in the playground but seeming deaf to her mothers words.... (continued)


Well, YESTERDAY was the 10th of the month again (and considering how much is going down right now in our lives, it's surprising that I'm only a single day late) so click on over to Hopeful Parents to read the rest of my post:

Kindred Spirits

Enjoy!

And come back here tomorrow for an update on my mother or some pictures of my cute kids or more talk about autism or... look a squirrel... oooh, something shiny... what was I saying? Oh, yea, maybe some chatter about my ADD... or whatever.

And thanks for all the support. It is heard, felt, and very, very much appreciated, even if I am not up to the task of replying personally to each and every comment.

My Tribe

I am particularly squashed right now.

My mother can no longer walk, so she can't go home to the lovely assisted living community she has been a part of for over two years now. They cannot handle the level of care she now needs.

I am in the midst of transitioning her into a nursing home now (and it is breaking my heart).

So I need to dissolve all but about two suitcases of her entire life. All while my children have a MONTH left until school starts up again, with only a week of non-mom supervision scheduled.

I have so much I want to say here, but no time to write, even though the words are bubbling up inside me, yearning to break free.

I am sure some night soon I will be up way too late, writing anyway, as the bottled up words just cannot stand.

But until then?

I do not want my blog to suffer, lonely and forlorn waiting for my attention. So I have made the decision to bring some of my guest posts back home, especially posts you may have not read, that seem relevant to current circumstances.

As I have just come back from this year's BlogHer conference, I thought I would start with this post, about finding my tribe of bloggers.

And in case any of you are in doubt, this weekend confirmed ever more than before for me: Blog friends ARE real friends, indeed.

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Tribes
 
I am of an age. Older than many other mothers of nine-year-old boys.

I have belonged to many tribes in my 51 years of life on this planet.

In the beginning, obviously, there were the tribes I was born into, happenstance of ancestry and geography: Jews, native New Yorkers.

Then other, subtler tribes, born of the choices my parents made: the tribe of only (sometimes lonely) children, the tribe of Bohemian artists, which I must say was much larger when we lived in Manhattan, shrank to the miniscule when my family moved to the flatlands of Long Island.

Then there are tribes of circumstance and identity that coalesce among school-age children. Mine were of the bookish variety, including the Educated Apes & Pigs – the name the “regular” kids coined for those of us in the Enriched & Accelerated Program, or EAP classes in my elementary school.

We didn’t care what they called us. A group of too-smart-for-their-own-good kids together? Is a very good thing. For two years we with our own, exclusively, and could relax for once. It was glorious.

Then through the tumbled, tumultuous years of adolescence and teenagery, like so many others, I stepped into and out of tribes, trying on and shedding groups and identities; seeking the true and the comfortable, shedding old and too tight skins.

Choir nerd / theater nerd / tech squad / artist / vegetarian / hippie / feminist / punk

Then more of the same in college. But fine tuning it, getting closer to the core, to ones that stuck around for a while:

For a long time I was a radical lesbian-feminist, a member very insular and exclusive group. There was a tremendous sense of identity there, a fierce belonging, a complete subculture and I was one of the tribe, lavender-dipped down to my skin.

And then?

I changed.

It was hard to leave such a tight, interconnected tribe, to step out into the world as just me.

But the inside was evolving and no longer matched the outside. Another skin to shed.

Moving back to New York in my mid-twenties in the mid-eighties, the world was wide. I spun through single gal – married woman – divorcee – married again.

For a while I was in the tribe of the infertile. That one was hard. Rock and a hard place hard.

And then, most transformatively of all, I joyfully, and with many tears, joined the Mom tribe, frequently anointed in pee and poo and leaky breastmilk.

My life, before, ever expanding, contracted for a time into that fiercely insular world of infant parenting: a few blocks bounded by the parks, the nearby stores that sell diapers, teething toys and baby tylenol, the pediatrician’s office, the kid friendly cafes.

I left my square mile infrequently. But within were many other members of my weary tribes: older new mothers and mothers of twins.

In the past few years I have, unfortunately been inducted into tribes not of my own choosing.

Although I have embraced it whole-heartedly and learned of its gifts, joining the tribe of Autism Mothers was quite a shock. Unwelcome at first, to say the least.

And then there’s the Dead Dads Club whose membership card comes, eventually, to all who enter the tribal cave of the elder-care-givers. Once again this was thrust upon me. But it is a weight I bear with love, my 89-year-young mother still my charge.

Which brings me to this, the tribe I find myself among today: the tribe of bloggers, we of the writing kind.

I did not know I had not yet found my people. I sat in the middle of so many belongings, I felt so connected. How could I have suspected there was more?

But then one day I transformed my words into little packets of ones and zeroes and pinned them on a virtual page I called my own.

I had no idea what I was doing.

I just needed to shout into the wilderness, to hear my own voice amidst the cacophony of special needs children and dying parents.

I wrote and wrote.

And then I began to read.

And then I joined a blogging community. Or two. A group blog. A conference.

And one day I realized: my ghostly, virtual friends were as real and important as my flesh and blood friends.

And that I was Blogger.

That this was my true tribe.

And that it took me fifty years, but I had found my people, oversharers all, and come home.

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 To read my post as it appeared initially in October 2011, go here to my friend Katie's blog Sluiter Nation.

The Squashed Best of 2011

It's the end of the year, and, as I said in last year's "Squashed Best" post "a traditional time to both reflect back and look forward." I stand by that.

Although I will say that looking backward is so much easier than looking forward. Especially when you're old, like me. (Now is when you're supposed to protest that I'm not that old, or at least that I don't LOOK it.)

As I'm now approaching my 2nd blogaversary, it is fun to be revisiting things I've done from last year, creating bloggy "traditions," as it were. So obviously I had to do this, the SECOND annual Year in Blog wrap-up for The Squashed Bologna, 2011 edition.

This year there seem to be a gazillion people doing wrap-up linkys on their blogs, and I'm probably going to link this up with about half of them. So if you've come over from one and you're new here: Hello, nice to meet you! Pull up a chair and stay a while, have a nice meander through my blog. I'd love to offer you a cup of tea, but that would fry your motherboard.

And if you're an old blog-friend (I mean long-time, I'm not calling you old, really) maybe you missed one of these. If not, go visit an old favorite, or just say "Hi and Happy New Year." Whatever!

So, without further ado, some posts I'm fond of from 2011:

January: O is for Oxygen {All about my sons' early language development, or lack thereof.}

February: In my Grandmother's House  {My first memoir post - and it's a doozy - about some strange goings-on at Grandma Dunia's.}

March: The Last Room {Standing in the room my father spent the very end of his life in, remembering.}

April: B is for Best Friend {About Jacob's lack of, and desire for a real friend, and one day in the playground when a kind boy played with him.}

May:  Thoughts on my son's getting older and getting stranger  {What it is: Jacob is still autistic.}

June: H is for Holding Hands {A small, quiet, tender moment with my elderly, widowed mother.}

July: Breakers {At the beach with my sons, remembering summers past, reveling in the ocean.}

August: Missing my Father {His absence as a presence in my life that comes and goes, sometimes more acutely than others.}

September: Choosing kindness {Choosing kindness when it would be so easy to be harsh; both with my children and with myself.}

October: Blink {Watching a baby while sitting with my sons, remembering, and observing how quickly the time goes, trying to be mindful and appreciative.}

November: What remains possible {Another dispatch from the trenches of a hard day of special needs parenting.}

December: Skipping Maybe not my objective "best" but a fun and funny little post, because I am getting tired of the heavy, and I reveal my sci-fi geek self therein. Enjoy!}

and on to 2012 we go....

So, as to the "looking forward" part? I really have no idea what 2012 will bring. More challenges, for sure. But also, hopefully, opportunities. Growth and bounding forward for my sons. Maybe even a bit of maturity (for me, I mean; my sons will certainly be doing some maturing).

I know one thing I am certain of in 2012 is that it will bring new connections and strengthen old. What I never imagined when I began this little blog nearly two years ago was how it would expand my life. I never foresaw the amazing community of (mostly women, mostly mom) bloggers that I would become a part of, and who would become such a vital part of my life in such a short expanse of time.

If 2011 has taught me anything it's how vital community is, both local IRL, and virtual on the interwebs. And I am grateful, grateful, grateful for the overflowing support and friendship therein.

And so I wish you all the happiest of New Years, and a 2012 that is wonderful and bountiful, exceeding your wildest dreams.

Linking this post up at:

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Sunday Night Send Off

Today is the day this NaBloPoMo, this "posting every day this month thing" is finally biting my ass. And it's the 13th already, that means it's nearly mid-month. So really that's not that bad.

What is bad, however, is this: I got nothing today.

I just will. not. post. another. whiny. how-tough-life-is-with-an-autistic-kid. rant.

I. just. will. not.

Which is what you would get if I let loose with a Stream of Consciousness Sunday post tonight. Believe me, I live here in my brain, I know which direction it's going in; nothing good coming out of that tonight, trust me on this one folks.

So I'm going to take a page out of some other blogger's books and use this space to link up some of the beauty and brilliance I have found on the web this week, send you off to read posts on OTHER people's blogs.

Like Schmutzy does with her wonderful "Five Star Friday" weekly collection of wonderful posts (that I have had the honor of being linked up in, multiple times).

Or Kate from The Big Piece of Cake with her "Links I Love" posts on (mostly) Mondays.

Or Jenny, the Bloggess, with her weekly Sunday wrap-up posts containing the "Shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome" list. (In June 2010 Jenny generously linked to my "From Autist to Artist" post and I got over 1000 hits within a few hours, heady stuff.)

It's not because I don't like you and want you here, but because I DO, and won't just slap up any old drivel and call it a post. THAT'S not a post. THESE are posts (go. read.):

Stimey, over at her blog Stimeyland wrote another AMAZING "big thoughts" post about autism again. Read this post here: Not Even Wrong about her son on the autism spectrum and his wonderful teacher and about how important it is to NOT pound our square peg kids into round holes because, as she quotes from my favorite author Paul Collins book Not Even Wrong:  "Autists are the ultimate square pegs, and the problem with pounding a square peg into a round hole is not that the hammering is hard work. It's that you're destroying the peg."

Momo over at her blog Momo Fali writes a short, lovely, moving post about feeling lost, and then found. Read this: Rising Above and go give her a cyber-hug, please.

Anna of An Inch of Gray is continuing to rip out our hearts with beautiful posts about her lost son and surviving daughter. This one: Isn't it Ironic, is yet another that must be read. You will find her writing as astonishing as the depth of love that suffuses her blog.

My friend Alysia's beautiful tribute to her Father, now dead 13 years: The Rose

There is MUCH more that is wonderful out there, but four links is about all I got in me tonight. And come back tomorrow, OK, I won't bite (too hard).


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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.)


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Blog Gems Rolls On!

Oh, my, I can barely move my body after BlogHer, but it's time, and I'm the summer guest host for the Blog Gems - Air Your Archives fortnightly link-up, so here we go....

Come! link up! Tell all your friends! I promised Jen it would be alive and well when she brings it back home to her blog The King and Eye. in the fall (or whenever she's ready) So don't make a liar out of me.

This is what Jen says about Blog Gems:
How many posts do you have languishing in your archives? Great posts that will never be dusted off and brought out to breathe again! Maybe you created fabulous content before you had lots of followers, or maybe you have been blogging for years and your current followers haven't seen your older material.

Blog Gems - Air Your Archives is a fortnightly linky list where we will give a prompt and you select a post from your archives that fits the prompt. You do not have to create content for the prompt, unless you want to. All you have to do is copy and paste the url of the post into the linky list. Voila, an old post gets a second shot!

To take part:

1. Follow MY blog for now (and Jen's blog once I hand her back the reins) to get future Blog Gem posting information and linkys.

2. Grab the Blog Gem button and place it on your sidebar (html code here). Putting the button on your blog is not a deal-breaker, some people just don't like doing it and I have no problem with that at all. What I will say is that something like this can't be successful without 'word of mouth' so I would appreciate if you could find another way to let people know that this is available and they are welcome to join in.

3. Enter your link.

4. Read and comment on the submissions of the two blogs posted before you on the linky list. (Please!)

5. Help spread the word by telling your blogging friends, either by tweeting this or blogging about your entry.

And here's what I have to add:

It's a wonderful chance to get fresh eyeballs on your great posts from the past.

The rule is that you're supposed to select a post from your archives that fits the prompt... but, being the generous, kind-hearted person that Jen is, it's a lenient rule. She states: "Broad interpretations of the prompt are encouraged so this could be a good chance to be creative!"

And, as I've just spent 3 days hugging and being hugged by my bloggy brethren, this week's prompt is: Community. 

Community, connection and support; your tribe, blogging or otherwise. This week, look around in your archives and find an old post about your "community" (or lack thereof).

Ready? Good. Jump in the pool aaaaaand link up!

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Blog Gems - Air Your Archives #17 visiting HERE

Today I am happy to be helping out a friend and hosting the fortnightly (LOVE that word!) Blog Gems - Air Your Archives link-up.

This was created by the wonderful Jen, my lovely friend from Ireland who blogs at The King and Eye. Jen, a sister Autism Mom, is taking a break from blogging, as her real life has been pretty intense lately and she needs to focus on family matters.

So she has asked her friends to help her out and keep the linky going.

I am very happy to help you, Jen! (Even though, true to form, I am 2 weeks and a day late!)

This is what Jen says about Blog Gems:
How many posts do you have languishing in your archives? Great posts that will never be dusted off and brought out to breathe again! Maybe you created fabulous content before you had lots of followers, or maybe you have been blogging for years and your current followers haven't seen your older material.

Blog Gems - Air Your Archives is a fortnightly linky list where we will give a prompt and you select a post from your archives that fits the prompt. You do not have to create content for the prompt, unless you want to. All you have to do is copy and paste the url of the post into the linky list. Voila, an old post gets a second shot!

To take part:

1. Follow Jen's blog to get future Blog Gem posting information and linkys.

2. Grab the Blog Gem button and place it on your sidebar (html code here). Putting the button on your blog is not a deal-breaker, some people just don't like doing it and I have no problem with that at all. What I will say is that something like this can't be successful without 'word of mouth' so I would appreciate if you could find another way to let people know that this is available and they are welcome to join in.

3. Enter your link.

4. Read and comment on the submissions of the two blogs posted before you on the linky list. (Please!)

5. Help spread the word by telling your blogging friends, either by tweeting this or blogging about your entry.

And here's what I have to add:

It's a wonderful chance to get fresh eyeballs on your great posts from the past.

The rule is that you're supposed to select a post from your archives that fits the prompt... but, being the generous, kind-hearted person that Jen is, it's a lenient rule. She states: "Broad interpretations of the prompt are encouraged so this could be a good chance to be creative!"

And today's theme is: CHANGE! 

We are about to end our School Year here in NYC (and most schools in America already have). The weather is switching back and forth between Spring and Summer day to day like it can't make up its mind which it is.  Everything is in a state of flux, transition.

So find a post about that. Whether you are embracing the changes or fighting them, share with us. It can be big, say a move across the world, or small (ever change a diaper?) And, as the lady says, creative interpretations welcome!

Tell us about CHANGE.

So easy! Come, Link Up folks!



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I'm Going to a (Blog) Party

I really don't get invited out to parties much these days. And if you don't count kids' birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese and fund raising dinners for my kids' schools?  That would be... nearly never.

But virtual parties on the inter-webs that I don't have to change out of my PJs for? I'm all over that.

So here I am at 5 Minutes for Mom's Ultimate Blog Party, along with a lot of other terrific bloggers, all looking to meet each other.

And I'm supposed to introduce myself, well, OK...

The Squashed Bologna in a nutshell (an appropriate metaphor here, folks):

I started blogging a little over a year ago, at a tough time in my life.  My nearly 93 year-old father was actively dying, fast, and I was taking care of him, my soon-to-be-widowed mother, and my then 7 year-old twin boys, one of whom is on the Autism Spectrum.

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.

Jacob & Ethan, July 2010

Over the course of the past year I have gone from being an occasional writer to a steady, nearly every day one.  I have just rounded the corner on my "Blogaversary" and looking forward to seeing where this next year of blogging my life will take me.

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 2011? This year so far, after recovering from my Gall Bladder surgery, I have branched out, exploring new writing avenues and challenges.

Thanks to The Red Dress Club, an amazing, supportive virtual writers community, I have begun to plumb the depths of my own childhood, writing memoir pieces.

I began to participate in Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursdays writing meme, finding the simple alphabet prompts fun, and engendering some really interesting posts.

And most recently and thrillingly, I launched a guest blog series: Special Needs Sibling Saturdays, all about sibling relationships in families like mine, where there are children with special needs.

There are some awesome guest posters here, please come by to read on Saturdays!

And that's us. These nuts in this nutshell. I hope you've enjoyed your visit, come back soon!

Oh, and you can also tweet me on Twitter (you can find me there @squashedmom) or come like me on facebook. Thanks!



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Have you any Blog Gems?

My lovely friend across the pond, Jen of The King and Eye (and Irish Autism Action) hosts a fortnightly (that would be bi-weekly to us Americans) link-up on her blog. She calls it:

Blog Gems - Air your Archives

It's a chance to get fresh eyeballs on your great posts from the past.  Each time there is a specific theme, and you select a post from your archives that fits the prompt.

But, being the generous, kind-hearted person that Jen is, it's a lenient rule. She states: "Broad interpretations of the prompt are encouraged so this could be a good chance to be creative!"

This week, for Blog Gems #12, the directions were:

"This week is about favourite posts. Link up a post that you love or that got more attention than you expected, or continues to get hits loooong after it has been posted!"

My first thought was to link my most "famous" post From Autist to Artist. But then I thought, nah, most of the folks there have seen that one before.

So I went rummaging about my blog (always a fun Sunday evening activity) and settled on this one, fairly recent (January 2011) but with a lot of good juju to it: Baggage. If you haven't read this yet? What are you waiting for? Click. Read.

So if you blog? I highly recommend that you go over to Jen's blog and join in the linky, it's a nice way to get to know each other all over again.

And if you just read blogs? Still go over there and find some great new reading material from the linky-list.  It's a nice chance to meet some kick-ass women from Europe and Australia, too.

And while you're there, stay and visit Jen for a while.  She's going through a rough patch with her middle son, the one on the autism spectrum. He's having an unsettling and unexplained physical health problem, and she could use some support. So go, listen, and give her a virtual hug. Thanks.



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Coming Soon: Special Needs Sibling Saturdays

Something new is coming to The Squashed Bologna...

Starting next Saturday, I will be hosting a series of Guest Posts on a theme that I have called: Special Needs Sibling Saturdays

"Why?" you ask.

Good question.

I have never had guest posts here before.  My blog has always felt so personal, so "me," it seemed strange to have other voices here.

And yet... and yet... I have loved guest posting at others' blogs. I have loved the feeling of community engendered on others' sites where there are regular guest posts, especially those with a specific focus, a series on a theme.

I have been especially inspired by these guest post series I have had the honor of writing for: "Small Moments Mondays" at in these small moments, and "Mommypants Moments" at Mommypants.

(It is no coincidence that Nichole and Cheryl are two of the three hosts of The Red Dress Club, the wonderful virtual group that is such a lovely and supportive community for writers, whose prompts have sparked some of my favorite posts lately.)

So I thought and thought about what would fit in here, and about what would be meaningful to me.

And I realized that I wanted to do something kind of new and different. (Because I can't just take an easy, tried and true path can I? Don't even bother to answer that one.)

I thought: "What is my biggest, consistently hardest parenting issue? What do I struggle the most with, what do I truly NEED a community for?"

And it came to me quickly... the sibling stuff.

Because Special Needs kids and sibling issues? An explosive combination.

Nothing makes me cry more. Not the death of my father. Not autism in and of itself. But this: the extremely difficult relationship between my twin sons, one on the Autism Spectrum, one not.

I don't have a handle on it. I have NOT figured out how to make it work in our house. There is yelling, there are tears. There are often two unhappy, lonely, angry boys and a mother who is at the end of her rope in our house. I am not proud of this. I am saddened, deeply troubled.

That my children mostly do not get along, that it is so hard for us to function as a cohesive family unit?  Is probably the single most consistent source of pain in my life.

So that's what I'm hosting a guest series about. Not what I do best, but what I do worst. Because that's what I need to hear other voices about.

I want to know how others do it, and how others don't do it.

I know there are families where the typical children are their special needs siblings best friends, function as mini-therapists.  I know there are families where they have had to make the heart wrenching decision to send a child with special needs off to a residential unit, so dangerous were they to their other siblings.

I know most families stories lie somewhere in between. And I want to hear all the stories.

Because in every family where there is more than one child, and at least one of these children has special needs? It deeply affects the family dynamic, the balance, the rules of the house. What a family can and cannot do together. If, how and where they spend family vacations. Every fiber of the day to day fabric of their lives.

I have written about this myself, here. And I realize that while I mention it in passing all the time, with phrases like "...dreading a four day weekend alone with my boys who get along as well as Tom & Jerry..." I have only ever written a full post about it that one time. I guess it's just too painful.

So I want to create a safe place here for people to talk about this. All of it. The good and the bad. The beautiful moments and the ugly truths.

To spark their thoughts on this, I sent my guest posters a set of questions:

How you handle issues that come up between your kids?  How do the NT (neuro--typical) kids rise to the occasion - or not - of helping out their special sib?  How you juggle vastly differing needs of kids, does someone usually get the short end of the stick?  

What you do when the fighting gets bad?  What you do to help your kids support each other? Does it work? Really? How you scaffold your SN kids interactions w/ their NT sibs? How do you talk to your NT kids about how the SN kid's needs affect or limit your family's experiences and activities.  How do they feel about this?

What you do when the typical sibs friends come over – what you say to them about the SN kid and what you do if/when meanness comes up? What you do when YOUR NT kid is leading the meanness towards their sib (yes this has happened here)?  What have your NT kids said to you about their SN sibs - the positive and the negative.

If all of your kids are SN, how do you balance the needs of the most affected one against the needs of the others and vice versa?

And most importantly of all: how do you FEEL about all of this?

But this is just a starting point. I know this series will evolve, that my guests will write about things I have not yet even imagined. And that's one of the reasons I'm so excited about it all, a chance to learn something, myself, on my own blog. I am near giddy with delightful anticipation.

So that's what's coming:

Special Needs Sibling Saturdays: a Guest Post series.

It's starting up next Saturday, March 26th, which is, not coincidentally, the day after my father's birthday. I know I will be looking deeply backward that day. I needed to turn around the next day and plant a foot firmly toward the future, and what better way than to start this series?

I hope you're looking forward to it, I know I am. The first posts are rolling in and they're wonderful. So stay tuned. It all starts next Saturday...


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