Oh My Gawd Sodagirl!

Archive for the 'Semi Serious' Category

October 24, 2008

I don’t put vodka in my Cheerios (but maybe I should).

Don’t you just love that photo? My daughter took that this morning and although I look quite drunk, I assure you I wasn’t. Although with the day I had, I sure wanted a drink, even though I don’t drink (but that’s another post, another day).

It started off fairly well until my son’s bus was late this morning and after he had gotten out of my SUV, he waited at the bus stop for almost 10 minutes (I wait there until he gets on the bus), freezing his butt off. I called him back over to sit in the vehicle to get warm and I called the bus company, and they said the bus would be along in about 10 minutes. After about five minutes, I see the bus pulling up so I tell son to get out and run over to the stop. Poor kid is running as fast as he can, with a fairly heavy backpack and as I’m watching, I see the bus driver closing the doors and begin pulling away from the curb. Great.

I’m thinking, this is just going to mess my whole day up should I have to drive him to school. With traffic and such, it’ll be an hour out of my day, and he’ll be late for school, just won’t start off on the right foot. However, to my relief, the driver saw him and stopped and he got on. Yay.

I make my way to the grocery store to pick up a handful of items. As I’m walking around as quickly as possible, almost done, I hear a woman’s voice come over the intercom. She’s informing customers that their debit machines (including credit cards) are out of order and they can only accept cash. Fantastic, because I never carry cash anymore. I’m about ready to ditch my cart with my items (and possibly punch someone), when I realized I did have some cash that my husband had given me the night before. Yay again. And luckily for me, the cashier was a young man who was working on all brain capicity and there were no issues at the time of payment. Yay again. Maybe I don’t need that booze (that I don’t really drink anyway) after all.

I make a quick trip to the bank, and all goes well there. In and out in 5 minutes. I head home, put groceries away, make a stew in the crockpot (I love you crockpot) and get my work done. I decided to go back out later on and go through the drive thru at Starbucks and order my crack strawberries n’ cream frapp. As I pull up and order, I’m told they’re out of the mix to make it, can they make me something else? No. No you can’t, because that’s the only thing I order from Starbucks. I get to sit in the drive thru lineup and wait for the 89 cars that are ahead of me regardless of not having a yummy drink to look forward to. No yay here.

I drive home, all disappointed that I didn’t get to drink those 6000 calories and possibly make my boobs bigger. Did I say boobs? I meant ass. Make my ass bigger. See? I’m still pissed about it.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur (am I sure I wasn’t drinking?) and then it’s time to pick up my son from the bus stop. I get there about 3 minutes before the bus usually arrives, and wait for another 10. I call the bus company and inquire as to where the bus is. I’m told they’ll radio the driver – lady comes back and says, she can’t reach the driver. Oh, that’s nice. I want to know where my special needs son is, but you can’t say. Fantastic. By this time, I have one minute to drive a five minute drive to pick up my daughter. I have to leave the bus stop and go get her, so I tell lady on the phone when she does reach the bus driver, to please have him (or her) tell my son to wait at the park for me, and I’ll be back in a few minutes and to call me – but I don’t get a call during the time I’m driving to get my daughter.

I get my daughter, who was worried (she’s a worrier – not sure where she gets that *ahem*), wondering why I wasn’t at our usual pick up spot, so I explained what happened and we talk about our back up plan should I be late again. She’s fine after that.

We head back over to the bus stop, and I look for son at the park, which I see no sign of him. I call the bus company back and ask how much longer the bus will be. Oh, the driver has been there already. Um, okay, well where’s my kid? Don’t know. Oh, well, that’s acceptable. I’m told they’ll contact the school to see if he even got on the bus. Lord. I decided to drive home to see if he possibly walked home. But even if he did, the doors would be locked, and he’d not be able to get in. I get home and there’s no sign of him. I run in the house to answer the ringing phone – it’s the bus company. He’s not at the school, so pretty much, no one had a clue as to where my child was. Where is that vodka when a frantic mother needs it? Uh, not that frantic mothers necessarily need booze, but hey, I was still pissed at missing out on my frapp, so vodka sounded good (sorta – doesn’t it taste kind of like rubbing alcohol?). Anyway, I hear a knock at my front door and it’s a lady telling me that my son is at her house – she lives just 2 houses past mine. I tell the bus lady that my son is here, at the neighbors house. Neighbor leaves to go back to her house and motions to me to come over when I’m done on the phone.

I go over and there’s my little buddy sitting at her kitchen island (her kitchen is beautiful by the way) and he smiles and I smile and then I thank her and of course I start to cry (could I be a bigger baby?) and she hugs me and tells me it’s okay and that she’d seen my son locked out and didn’t want him to be outside by himself and that if I ever need her, to feel free to call her (she gave me her number) and she’d gladly keep my kids if I needed her to or if I needed anything. And holy run-on sentence, but I had to get that all out. What a sweet lady and she really was lovely to me. I thank her again and look at my son and see he’s got tears in his eyes – I could tell he was a little worried that mom wasn’t at the bus stop when he got off of the bus, but I was proud of him for telling the neighbor his name (that’s huge, you have no idea) and although he didn’t talk to her after that (probably just nodded his head yes or no to questions), I’m glad she was thoughtful enough to be concerned for her neighbor’s kid. So yay for that.

I ended up with a migraine (never fails after a bus incident – and trust me, my poor kid has had three of them now over the past couple of years) to cap my day off, but it’s almost gone now. I wonder if the liquor store is open? I’m kidding. Kinda.

Posted by Sassy @ 1:03 amKids,Semi Serious10 comments  

October 15, 2008

Autistic children are stupid and lazy.

Does that title offend you? It does me. I wrote about comedian/actor Denis Leary today at work, here. Leary’s written a new book, which I’m guessing will be a big seller (you don’t want to know what I’m really thinking right now), called Why We Suck: A Feel-Good Guide To Staying Fat, Loud, Lazy and Stupid. I suppose he needed a snappy title because really, does anyone pay any attention to him anymore? Was he ever funny? Perhaps attacking children and their parents was his way of saying, ‘hey look at me! I’m still here!’ (Still not funny though).

It takes a lot to offend me – really, it does. I can dish out politically incorrect humor with the best of them, sarcasm and black comedy can be oodles of fun and although I’m a crybaby at times, in certain areas of my life, I can take crap dished out to me. However, when some jackass has-been ‘comedian’ is trying to stay relevant to the times by bringing up the subject of autism in his book and calling parents of children with autism “inattentive,” and “competitive,” and in a nutshell, says there’s really no such thing as autism, it just means our children are stupid and/or lazy, I take offense. Here is what he wrote:

“There is a huge boom in autism right now because inattentive mothers and competitive dads want an explanation for why their dumb-ass kids can’t compete academically, so they throw money into the happy laps of shrinks…. to get back diagnoses that help explain away the deficiencies of their junior morons. I don’t give a [bleep] what these crackerjack whack jobs tell you – yer kid is NOT autistic. He’s just stupid. Or lazy. Or both.”

I’ll assume he was attempting to be comedic (sort of missed the mark on that one). I’ll assume the premise of his book is to bring focus on the way we live today, the way we parent our children, the way we overeat, don’t exercise, talk too much, we don’t work hard enough, we overindulge in every aspect of living – just a general decline in how, we, as a society, walk through the world right now. I get it. He’s trying to be witty and humorous and probably throwing a dash of sarcasm in the book too – but honestly, implying – hell, saying – that inattentive parents are to blame for a child with autism is ridiculous. Or to say that a child who has been diagnosed with autism, doesn’t really have that, he’s just stupid. Or lazy. Or hey, both, is just wrong.

Would I be as offended by his comments if my own son wasn’t a special needs child? Maybe not, I don’t know. The fact is, my son is a child with many challenges – many. And he does display characteristics that fall into the autism spectrum, although his formal diagnosises do not include autism, those things are still present. And no way in hell, is some washed up douche bag, who knows nothing about raising a child with special needs, going to tell me (and many others) that my son’s afflictions are because I was/am an inattentive mother. Oh hell to the no. Of course there are crappy parents out there, that’s a fact of life. And perhaps those crappy parents have contributed to the fact that their child doesn’t flourish in whatever situation they may be in. But to say that I somehow, made my child the way he is, is ridiculous. My son was born the way he is – his brain is wired differently, his sensory and tactile issues are because he receives things differently than you or I, and sure, if I was a shitty parent, maybe he wouldn’t have made the progress he’s made.

I have gone to every specialist known to man, had tests done, therapy, read books, researched, attended seminars, worked with his schools – done whatever it takes to find answers, to get help for my child, to do whatever I can to make his life as fulfilling as it can possibly be. And for Denis Leary to be so flip about such a serious subject is not acceptable. Would he feel the same way if one of his children were autistic? Probably not – he’d blame their mother for giving him stupid and lazy children. He’s narrow-minded and ill-informed and so not funny.

When my son is struggling with his anxieties (and I have to talk him down for the 23rd time that day), at 12 still can’t tie his shoelaces (although I’ve been trying to teach him since he was 3), is made fun of because some of his behavior is perceived as odd (and still I walk proud with him in public even though we are both called names like freak, and weirdo), struggles to eat normally (I so want him to eat a slice of pizza or chow down on a burger, but that has yet to happen since we’ve not moved past baby food but we keep trying!), beats himself up verbally because he’s frustrated with not being able to handle a simple task (I hug him fiercely and help him articulate his thoughts so he can get that simple task done and be proud of his accomplishment) and looks at me with all the innocence of a preschooler (as I help him with his grade 3 spelling words even though he’s in grade 7, but he draws me the cutest pictures for my fridge), I’ll think of your words, and remind myself that it’s all because I’m an inattentive parent. If only I were a better mother to my son, then he wouldn’t be so stupid and lazy. Thank you for being so perceptive Denis Leary.

But hey Denis, good luck with your book. It’s great when chain-smoking, aging, past their prime, not funny, assholes try to get one more laugh out there.

Posted by Sassy @ 11:29 amKids,Semi Serious32 comments  






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