I really haven’t posted since May? {Wait, hold the phone, it’s JUNE?!}

I need to blog more.  :/

I started to write a big long post about my last two (three?) weeks of HELL and got bummed out.  June has been tough, with everyone sick and shit (literally), and I was just starting to relive all the (literal) shit.  So, the way of DELETEALLTHETHINGS it went because now I’m not craving a margarita in a Prozac-rimmed glass.  It’s just more like one or the other.

I kinda keep procrastinating in actually posting a post, I believe, because I’m hoping things will really improve.  Because wrapped up with all the sickness followed by rain followed by the Satan’s balls heatwave we’re currently experiencing, Drax (the daddy trapped on the crazy train with moi) has been to the doctor’s/hospital roughly 6 times due to his back and has been diagnosed with complete degenerative spinal stenosis with some spinal spurs in his neck to just sweeten the deal.  At 24 years old, he has the spine of a senior+ citizen (has apparently lived with this his whole life?) and surgery’s not exactly being ruled out yet.  Next week he begins his “pain relief plan” or whatever our hospital’s fancy PC phrase is for shots and therapies. 

And on top of this, we’ve started to add services for PX, up to 3 a week, and next week is his official evaluation by a developmental pediatrician.  He likes his new providers/workers/therapists but this routine disruption has brought out some behaviors.  And night waking.  Lots of LONG night waking, and playing.  Even after days filled with trips to the park, sensory activities, and therapies.  I think my kids are going to be like me, and sleep like shit till puberty hits, at which point they decide they cannot get enough snoozes. 

But, thankfully, our good moments have been MARVELOUS moments and actually got captured in pixels.

Hey girl, who needs Jenny McCarthy?

We survived another Weekend of a Thousand Hours sans papa!  Oh thank god.  Although I am now fearing we survived only to be thrown into the zombie apocalypse.  I’ve yet to gather my supplies!  Time to make my way to the Winchester, at least I have a Spotify playlist for that voyage.

This coming Thursday, it’s our first official IEP/ISP/IFSP/meeting for PX to decide on new & extra in-home services.  We’re looking at an extra 2-3 days a week of sessions focused on communication.  PX is picking up signs well, but still being stubborn about using them and needs a prompt to tell us his needs.  It’ll be nice to get some extra focused help for communication skills.  Plus we still have playgroup (yay!) and our usual generalized therapy visit and possibly a new group, a social skills group.  Maybe I should just change his name to Brick. 

My summer goal is to get PX as prepared as possible for pre-school and hopefully, diagnosis pending, he’ll be able to start a day program in the fall and get a good 8 or 9 months in before the battle for ESY.  His early childhood teacher who runs the playgroup thinks he has a good shot, as well as our caseworker, considering PX has begun to use his peers as models for behavior as well as really opening up with his sister.  He even played and shared with a new girl at group, on her very first day!  She took a shine to all of us, too, even Rizzle who has no concept of personal space and sat right in the lap of this poor gal who doesn’t exactly do well with new people and situations.  Only my kids!

So it’s been a good week for the kids.  Apparently, not such a good week on the special needs front in general; all the batshit crazy has come out to play it seems.  Bleach?  Really?!  Fucking batshit crazy, I say!  And it seems #SNRyanGosling agrees across the interwebz & at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood this week.  He even wants to dethrone Ms. McCarthy.

He gets my vote!  1-800-GOS-4ASD

Please Ryan, give us a little skin.  Please?  It IS to raise awareness after all.

It’s ok, just curl up in my lap, we’ll get through this.  ;O

Airing Out the Bloggy Bits

I should really pay more attention to what I write about my blog, annnnd what I don’t.



A few weeks ago I up and changed the name of my blog, after contemplating what to do about my Etsy shop versus my blog.  I resurrected my old tumblr name, Call Me Momah, for this blog.  I always loved it, as PX has never said “mama” or “mommy” correctly, but always some crossbreed that sounds like MoMA.  But that’s copyrighted and I’m all set going to the slammer.  So, around here we’re momah.  I’m hoping it will also help me to stay positive in the crap (literally) times.

And so with that I made a new Facebook page, but I really have no idea what to do with it.  Like, apart from my own, that is.  Maybe I can use it to stop bombarding my college friends with pictures of my kids and status updates about Elmo.  I think about 5 people on my friends list have kids.  And half(ish) have special needs kids.  Gasp!  The new 1%?!  #OCCUPYSPECIALNEEDSPARENTING (but don’t tell Jenny McCarthy, plz)

Hey girl, I can replenish your… {The Weekend of a Thousand Hours}

Oh fuckity fuck fuck.

 

Or, might I rephrase, what the fuck are you two fucking fucks, fuck?!

 

Routines were abruptly changed starting last weekend.  Daddy Drax started in on his summer schedule.  Friday was fine, he was a little sad at bathtime but overall okay.  Saturday was nerve-wracking, nail-biting, hair-raising, all that jazz.  But we survived.  And then Sunday came.  The day it all fell apart.  Let me start off by saying it was muggy as hell out.  None of us do well in high humidity.  All Rizzle wanted to do was sit around and watch Elmo, all PX wanted was his old routine back.  The morning was a shitshow, everyone crying and pissed off about food choices and sick of sweating like a pig by lunch time.  I put all my hopey eggs in one basket and decided that after naptime, I would ensure a fun afternoon filled with favorite snacks and activities.  We’d even go to PX’s favorite store, the grocery store, and hopefully it’d be good. 

 

….HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Blind optimism at its finest! 

 

We walked PX’s favorite route but, once we got to the store, it was clearly obvious something had completely snapped, a regression was setting in, input was being craved.  He started chewing on the foamy covering to his stroller bar.  He hung over the sides like a rag doll, legs up over the bar, laughing like a lunatic.  He was swiping at objects and cried when we stopped moving.  Rizzle followed his lead.  I tried giving him his favorite snacks, a special treat for being out on an errand.  Sadly, no use.  I decided to high tail it home afterwards, showing him his picture cards for his swing and lovey.  We somehow made it up the stairs alright, but then the reality of being home and still no daddy set in.  And, it was supper time.

 

So the kids got Elmo.  PX was still seeking input everywhere but usually the fluffy muppet gives him what he needs visually and, with a favorite toy and squishy vest, he’s fairly level.  I apparently misjudged how much MORE he was looking for.  The kitchen and living room are conjoined so I can watch them while cooking, the one plus of this shitty apartment.  After not even 5 minutes of starting dinner, PX had dumped out my Vitamin Water all over his lap.  I rushed in to assess the damage, burnt my hand on a burner in the process, and arrived just the second PX shoved his entire hand into his mouth and, well, what’s the color code for total projectile vomit?

 

Himself, his sister, their toys, the couch, the floor.  ON A MUGGY FUCKING DAY IN THE AFTERNOON SUNSHINE.

& my monthly allowance of fucks were used up; not a single one will be given again till June.

 

So I hosed ‘em down, salvaged dinner, and carried on business as usual.  It was still FIVE HOURS till Daddy’s ETA.  So, no time for whining and dreaming of incredibly strong margaritas the size of bath tubs spoon-fed to me by shirtless cabana boys on a beach in Maui.

 

Thankfully, once Daddy returned to PX’s world Monday afternoon, 48 hours since he’d last seen him, PX bounced back fairly quickly.  Who knows what this weekend will be, but as long as it doesn’t involve bodily fluids, it’ll probably be a win.  I hope.  If not, I’ve made sure Ryan Gosling will be on standby for moral support, with a case of Clorox wipes and 5lbs of Wendy’s fries.

 

Double cheezburgers AND RyGos’ abs?  OK!!!

 

I’d elaborate on this *gem* of the week, if it wouldn’t infuriate me.

 

I hear it’s quite an inspiring novel, so let’s get crackin!!

 

Alright time to go link up at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and load up some of my favorite blogs on Google Reader for later. 

So We Have a Date.

June 28th, it’s going down.  Two and a half hours of eval-ness. 
By the end, I will probably decide I typoed and it was evilness.
But, we’ll have some answers, about ten thousand more questions, but we will have our start.
I’ve heard a lot of good things about this psychologist.  I’ve been told he’s good at working with the family unit, seeing PX as part of a bigger picture, and helping to customize our goals and tactics to best fit all of us.  I like that.  Because as much as I am a “my kids come first, I will cut out an organ or pinkie toe to benefit their quality of life!” I know that some things might just not fly with a sensory sensitive one-year-old who has some *mild* separation anxiety in our family portrait.
I’m really excited to get a diagnosis.  That probably sounds fucked, but it’s true.  I have made peace with the fact my son is most likely on the autism spectrum.  I know I won’t be able to look on the bright side 24/7 and sometimes, I’ll get sad and downright pissed about how hard he has to work as compared to NT kiddos.  And that’s okay; emotions are human.  I’m excited that plans will be able to be focused, we’ll know what options we have and what we have to do to get there.
Only 4 months of total waiting, and we’ll know.  We will have some answers for Gus Gus.