All-Too Autism Aware

It is April 2nd (or it was when I started writing this) and the annual Autism Awareness Day promotions fly across my social media feeds. They include some very positive and heart-warming testimonials by parents of autistic children. These are beautiful and touching reminders that it is important to say nice things in addition to the complaints that crop up in the day-to-day struggles of raising a child–any child, really–regardless of any spectrum they are on.

But it is also hard to mouth these sentiments when you are worn down to a nub of exhaustion and your nerves jangle from your beautiful child’s explosive and self-injurious behavior. Some days, I struggle to find the funny. I might need to bite the head off of several chocolate Easter Bunnies first. Please stand by.

Bunny-cide. Eating up the rage one chomp at a time.
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To Max in Sarasota, Florida at AT&T

Around this time every year, I go through an annual event which involves dramatics and hysterics in equal measure–negotiating my contract for a better rate on my internet and tv services. Warning, to anyone who does not know me, this story involves cursing–and not just the witch with a cauldron kind.

There’s a lot of swearing. A f*ck-ton, if you will.

Proceed with caution.

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What Happens Among the Sheets…

My sheets attacked while I was sleeping. I thought we had resolved our difficulties and reached an accord. But, I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

* * *

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Nothing Going Wrong, Please Stand By

I like to describe myself as a humor writer. Someone who looks at the chaos of life around me and finds the funny in it. But, there is something about life in Covid lockdown that suggests I am actually a disaster-seeking opportunist. You be the judge.

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The Death of Sleep and Falling Pickles

There is a freight train shrieking in my bedroom. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense when I am thrust awake by the most horrible noise at an ungodly hour.

QWERNK… QWERNK… QWERNK QWERNK…QWERNK…QWERNK…QWERNK

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Hell’s Home Kitchen – Napalm Edition

I recently read a few other bloggers’ trials and tribulations in the kitchen–HERE and again HERE and this made me reflect on some of my worst disasters.

Please enjoy my retrospective and recollections of thymes past.

*****

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A Womb With a View

I went through a rough couple of weeks worrying about a thing that could have been big, bad, and scary but turned out to be big, banal, and mostly embarrassing–so the story ends happily ever after, kind of.

(My fairytale life turns out to be something a whole lot different than my childish self ever imagined.)

The moral of this story is short and to the point: DO NOT GOOGLE SYMPTOMS EVER!

There is some mention of disgusting female-related bodily functions in this post; therefore, the men might want to scamper out of the room like the timid little bunnies they are.

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Happiness in a Box

I was given a quest this week to buy crayons. No problem, right? As my favorite character from The Big Bang Theory might have put it: “Easy-peasy, oh so breezy.”

This simple task turned out to be a lot more difficult than expected.

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When the Pumpkin Hits the Fan…

<<<STRESS>>>

Everybody has it. It’s the energy that fuels life. If you don’t have enough stress, you probably would have been eaten by something furry back in prehistoric times to keep you from reproducing your laid-back DNA. Stress kept you on your toes back then.

Nowadays, however, it tends to be a corrosive that eats away at your central nervous system unless you learn to deal with it in someway. Today was a test of my emergency stress management responses. You may have handled things differently–probably averting the same crises with ease. But, I defy you to read the following and not at least have a little sympathy for a mom who just wanted to read a book.

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