Life and Living It

So nice to be back at my blog, Little Bits.  Life is made up of perpetual little bits and when strung all together they define us. Everything that happens in life is important when it happens to you, little or big. There have been an inordinate number of slogans created to minimize bad things like suck it up or shit happens or it is what it is.  I get it, don't sweat the small stuff.  Simply put, it isn't all small and lots of stuff has occurred in my life.  2012 has been eventful so far.

Let's start back in January.  On the 11th I celebrated 20 years of sobriety.  That decision was the single most important in my life.  I have a life because of it.  A few months later, I was able to enjoy 20 years of being a non-smoker.  I am grateful.

In April, on the morning after Easter Sunday I was invited to join the staff at a landfill free waste removal company owned in part by my brother.  This job could not have come at a better time.  I am able to work from home.  My hours are flexible.  The pay is good.  My responsibilities are increasing.  It is so cool that I am working with my brother.  I have always adored him and  now I am getting the chance to be closer to him and it makes me smile.  Not to mention I am doing something brand new half way into my life!  How fortunate I feel.  

In May, my good friend moved a mile or so away.  You see, when she moved she stopped being my next door neighbor.  That was hard for me.  Her house was one where my whole family was loved and welcomed and I knew I would miss that most.  While my family members each have friendships in our neighborhood with various folks, in her home we all had a place. Our kids grew up together from babies in our adjoining back yards where we enjoyed 10 years of impromptu and planned gatherings sharing coffee and catching lightning bugs.  Our husbands would get together and play tennis on summer nights.  When we were snowed in or lost power our families ate Chinese and puzzled by candlelight.  It's priceless to have this kind of a neighbor and friend.  When I learned her family was moving, I cried.  I had nightmares.  I cried in the shower.  (I don't know about you, but shower crying is reserved for the really sad stuff.)

So began the summer with me working from home and my kids at home, too.  The one thing I learned was  that next summer will most certainly be different...C-A-M-P! 

Early in the summer, I got a call from a friend I've known nearly all of my life telling me she had breast cancer.  She is my first friend to get this diagnosis and I was stunned. She was stoic, but of course I cried on the phone.  She continues to amaze me with her strength and if anyone can kick cancer's ass, it's her.  

Throughout the end of last school year, it was becoming apparent that we needed to talk to my son about his having autism.  I cried during that conversation.  It was short and upbeat and he seemed to handle it well.  Since then, we've spoken about it a few times and the conversations are all good and some are more difficult than others.  He has really come into his own this past year and I love him for all I'm worth.

My younger son may have some medical issues that are minor and we have consulted with his pediatrician. After having one child diagnosed with Autism, I get really frightened at the prospect of dealing with anything more than a cold. On the positive side, he is happy, a talented artist and he loves his momma!  He and his brother are fast friends.  All things considered, we are lucky.  And I must say that I'm glad 8 year old boys still like to snuggle!

I lost two beloved pets this year, a cat, Lucy and a sweet little dog named Sushi.  They were the last of my single pets, the last ties to my life as a single person.  Both lived long, happy lives.  I was with both of them when they passed.  Lucy at the vet's office and Sushi at home.  My poor babies!  My creatures are part of my family and I am grieving for them and little for my single life, too.  

Hurricane Sandy left my family unscathed, but battered my beloved Jersey Shore.  So much loss.  I have helped in some small ways and feel like I should do more for those affected.  Every time I see the photo of the roller coaster on the Seaside, NJ Boardwalk mangled and laying in the ocean it ignites a feeling of sickening dread.  I think of our family home in Cape May Point, NJ and the realization that we could lose our home in another storm is horrifying.

In the past couple of weeks, I have enjoyed a few cups of coffee and tea with my friend in her new home. (Yes, I was talking to her. She only just moved in!)  Strangely enough, I feel the same way in that house as I did when she lived next door.  Go figure!  Another lesson learned.

What I have come to understand is that I seem to cry a lot and that this is life.  It is not happening to me, it is happening inside me, all around me and to all of us all the time.  2012 isn't over yet and I am feeling that familiar child-like giddiness at the approaching holiday season.  I am looking forward to all that will be enjoyed and challenged and experienced, every little bit of it!

Insurance or Bust

In watching the news recently, it was reported that the CEO of insurance giant, AIG in response to the world debt crisis said, "Governments around the world need to force people to work longer to make pension and health insurance more affordable.".

So let's get this straight.  An insurance company CEO wants us to work longer so that we can afford to purchase his product.  Does anyone else feel like kicking that guy in the behind?  When I think about the concept of insurance I think of prohibtion-era mobsters.  Specifically, gangsters shaking down businesses for 'protection' money so the mom and pop shop could operate without fear of being robbed, ransacked, beaten or murdered.  So there they were, paying a sum of money for the privilege of being left alone.

Why are we as a society paying billions of dollars every year to insurance companies?  Health insurance, auto insurance, life insurance, home owner's insurance and flood insurance to name a few.  There are hundreds of other insurances that fall under each of the main types called 'riders'.  Let's not forget prescription insurance, dental insurance, vision insurance, cancer insurance, jewelry insurance and pet insurance, and long-term care insurance.  You need an interpreter to read a standard policy let alone the 'exclusions', herein referred to as "we ain't paying you shit".

We are even legally obligated to purchase certain types of insurance such as auto.  Wouldn't it have been great to be a fly on the wall on capital hill when the private industry dude convinced the legislators to make his product mandatory?  Yep.  Imagine the melody blasting in the dude's head when he heard how we as a  society would be fined, even jailed, if we didn't yield and purchase his product that provides NO SERVICE?  I imagine it sounded something akin to the Hallelujah Chorus.  We've even been brainwashed to believe that we all need insurance.

To illustrate the insurance industry's concern for its customers, in an ABC, medpageTODAY article from February 11, 2010, it was reported that,

"...In the midst of a deep economic recession, America's health insurance companies increased their profits by 56 percent in 2009, a year that saw 2.7 million people lose their private coverage.

The nation's five largest for-profit insurers closed 2009 with a combined profit of $12.2 billion, according to a report by the advocacy group Health Care for American Now (HCAN)..."

Even as I write this, I am watching Face the Nation on CBS.  Although their discussion focus is on the up coming presidential election, they keep talking about President Obama's Healthcare Reform and its chances of being struck down by the U.S. Supreme Court.  Not surprisingly, the players quickly talked about insurance premiums skyrocketing if the part of the bill about coverage of pre-existing conditions is eliminated.  Really?  Do they hear themselves?  Does anyone else hear what I do?

It has been a longstanding human truth that we need food and shelter to survive.  If the insurance industry is left to its devices and it continues to siphon cash from providers and consumers without providing any real service, we will be adding 'insurance coverage' to that truth.  Is that what we want? I think not.

Switching addictions

It is being reported that there is a newly discovered side-effect of gastric bypass surgery.  There were findings that after a study of about 2000 people that had undergone the surgery, there was an up to fifty-percent higher chance of said individual developing alcoholism.  The physical reason is that with the tremendous reduction of the size of the stomach that any alcohol consumed goes into the intestines faster and without being broken down in the stomach.  Therefore, it creates quicker absorption into the blood stream and leads to a burst of euphoria.  It seems what they are saying is that you get drunk faster.  


It is my opinion that the jump to alcoholism is a switch of addictions and the sudden onset of drunkenness is a contributing factor .  While there are medical conditions and prescription medicines that lead to obesity, I believe that food is used by many to self-medicate.  Therefore, it's not that big of a jump to realize if you remove food from someone that is using it like an addict, that it would soon be replaced by  another substance.

I believe that any addict could benefit from some help whether it's a twelve step program, medical intervention, rehab, etc.  As I've heard said, "Switching addictions is like changing cabins on the Titanic.  Either way, you're going down."

Be happy.  Be healthy.  Peace.

A Moving Message

For Ivy


Once upon a time in a far away land, there lived a beautiful, young girl named Princess Dawn.  She resided in a modest brick castle with red shutters.  Her loyal subjects included Lady Rachel Roundbelly Gatecrasher of Labrador, The Honorable Miss Sushi of Japan, Sir Benjamin Franklin Ferret, Mr. Bad Harold the Black Cat and Lady Lucy of Tortie.  Princess Dawn's castle was filled with love.

She enjoyed a life of luxury.  Princess Dawn had lots of money, a career, a sportscar, and time for quiet cups of Earl Grey Tea.  She loved to nap in the afternoon before partaking in the local night life activities. Her life was comfortable and happy.

Then, one day, the evil Lord Jeff appeared and took Princess Dawn from her castle on his Great White Mustang.  He promised the Princess a beautiful life, but she was wary of the rogue.  He moved her to Dublin where the smell of the garage nauseated her.  He must have cast a spell on Rachel, for soon after she disappeared.  Then he announced, "You shall bear me sons!".  Soon Evan and Reid joined the family and the boys followed in their father's footsteps, robbing Princess Dawn of her youth, beauty, wealth, afternoon naps and quiet cups of Earl Grey tea.

The sad Princess looked at her life and longed for her little brick castle.  She missed Rachel Roundbelly Gatecrasher everyday.  She wondered if she would ever be herself again.  Then, something magical started to happen.  She looked into the eyes of her two sons and felt an unimaginable love in her heart.   Lord Jeff worked hard every day to keep the Castle Dublin warm and filled with good food.

Princess Dawn met Princess Christie who lived in the castle next.  She, too, had a lord (John) to please and had borne him children.  The Princesses enjoyed days together watching the children play.  The daughter of the other lord and princess was named Ivy.  Her brother was named Jude. At first, Princess Dawn offered little Ivy some coffee, but that made her cry.  Eventually, Princess Dawn came to realize that the girl preferred tea.  How lovely!

After young Jude visited many times, declaring his ever present hunger, the families decided they needed more food so a common garden was planned.  Amid grumblings of the lords they prepared the earth that was filled with shale and they planted seeds.  The princesses doubted the seeds would grow, but they did.  For many seasons, there were harvests aplenty and even the lords were grateful.  Fall feasts were scheduled for the families to enjoy the fruits and vegetables of their labor.  Beautiful and delicious dishes of purple, yellow, green, orange and red produce were prepared and served.  

On summer nights, the royal families would catch fireflies and enjoy beverages and snacks.  Miss Ivy and Princess Dawn found they shared a love of singing and dancing.  They even made up their own songs about old ladies swallowing children and cats.  They would entertain the others by teaching them the lyrics and having a sing-along.  Princess Dawn enjoyed coiffing Ivy's hair and applying big-girl makeup so she could watch Lord John become fretful.

Princess Dawn longed for her former castle less and less.  She was fulfilled and felt great joy for her circumstances including her friendship with Princess Christie's family.  They were special. Each loved the children of the other and spent many fun times together.  Princess Christie delighted in transporting the children to their lessons in her royal robes, often to the chagrin of young Evan.  Young Reid would appear on the doorstep of Princess Christie bearing gifts. Even the lords would socialize, playing tennis or games of cards.  Many great kindnesses were exchanged and the families grew close.

Alas, all things must change and it was to pass that the family of Lord John and Princess Christie were building a new castle and would no longer live next door to Lord Jeff and Princess Dawn. Despite objections and the threat of stoning, Lord John continued with his plan to take his family away.  It was spring and it was time to prepare the common garden.  At first, Princess Dawn couldn't imagine working the earth alone.  Then, Princess Dawn thought of all that had grown in the garden and beyond. She realized that now, her Dublin castle was what she loved, even more than her little brick castle with the red shutters.  It had brought her a family, loyal pets and new friends.  It was home. It needed its garden.

And so it would be for Miss Ivy. Her new castle would be built and she would have new adventures and more fun times.  She would continue to enjoy the company of Princess Dawn's family for the friendship forged by their families was the forever kind.  She would find, like Princess Dawn, that home is in your heart.  And fortunately for Lord John, their new castle is close by.      

The End.

The Day the World Turned Yellow

I do not know the science behind chemical changes our brains go through when we are traumatized.  There are names for psychological reactions to horrific circumstances that human beings endure. Some of the more well known are Stockholm Syndrome, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Agoraphobia to name a few.  I've even heard of Seeing Red, though that's an idiom.   My reaction to what has been my worst experience by far was to see yellow.

My first son was born at 28 weeks, missing out on the last trimester of gestation.  He spent 73 days in the NICU and 7 months on oxygen.  From there, we started on our way to "catching up". It's a strange concept to a first time mom who had no experience through friends or family with premature births.  So, for instance, when he was three months old in early January he was measured for development at his actual age and his corrected age.  His corrected age then was two weeks old based on his due date of December 30th.  The pediatric community at the time expected a child to be caught up by age 2.  It makes total sense after a while, really.

We began hitting our milestones in a timely manner.  He started smiling in late January (be still my heart).  He was nursing like a champ.  He grew a little slowly because his lungs were healing and that's where his body was concentrating its efforts physically.  He started sleeping for more than 20 minutes at a time and enjoyed an afternoon nap.  We were beginning to relax.

In addition to his regular pediatric care, he was seen by a pulmonary specialist from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia who tracked his lung development by way of his weight, respirations, heart rate and the oxygen level in his blood.   She was a wonderful doctor who never frightened me and was always focused on his progress.  That was so important to me because I was having a really hard time and could become terrified at one insinuation that he might not be where he should.  The physicians I chose were as much for their bedside manner as for their expertise.  My son and I were both very fragile and needed to be handled gently.

My son started walking at 15 months (really 12, remember corrected age) was eating baby food, some table food and was loving carrots and sweet potatoes so much that he was actually turning orange.  What a laugh we had over that.  By the time he was 2, he had been discharged by the pulmonary doctor, was starting to climb everything and was laughing and playing all the time.  I didn't think I'd ever be able to keep up with him.  At that time, we were attending a neighborhood play group and while the other moms could chat and sip coffee while checking on their kids, my coffee grew cold as I raced around someone else's house trying to find that child.

We enrolled at a Mommy and Me class that was held once per week at a local pre-school.  He was just 2 years old.  There I noticed that the other children were able to focus and sit still longer than my son.  I also saw the other kids talking to their parents and the teacher with greater ability than my boy.  Late talking isn't all that unusual in our families so I had him evaluated for Early Intervention Services and indeed, we received visits 2 times per week to work on speech and language.  Again, we were on our way and would be catching up just a little behind schedule.

A really great thing happened when my son was not quite 2 and a half.  I found out I was pregnant again and I was beyond thrilled.  I was 43 and had been told in my 30's I couldn't have children.  As is very like me, once told I can't do something I just have to do it.  After an early scare with my pregnancy it was smooth sailing.  My son was making excellent progress and his little brother was on the way.  How could things have turned out this wonderful for me relatively late in life?  I was filled with gratitude for my child and my pregnancy.

Just before my second son was born, my oldest was discharged from Early Intervention as he tested at 3 years, in the age-appropriate range.  A relief!  If I could have only slowed his activity level down a bit things would have been easier.  He woke up often between 4 and 5 in the morning and other than an afternoon nap, he was awake until 9 or 10 at night.  It was exhausting.  I was starting to wonder if he might be hyperactive which can be common in premature children.  I just couldn't go there, though.  I knew families with hyperactive children and it seemed awful to me.  It caused social problems and there were difficult medical worries about prescription medication.  I had enough of difficult, thank you very much.

I need to mention that I did not have a healthy support system at that time in my life.  My boy's behavior and activity level came under scrutiny by family and I received more than my share of opinions on the deficiencies in my parenting.  I got a lot of flack about co-sleeping, his lack of having a schedule, what he ate, that I was still nursing him and my inconsistent discipline.  What I knew was that I was becoming increasingly isolated.  I was nearly paralyzed at home in the late stage of my pregnancy, partly from the pregnancy itself and partly because it had become too hard take my son out alone.  He just ran, ran, ran and there was no way I could keep up with him.  I doubted myself as a parent.  Why couldn't I just enjoy being a mom?  I was concerned about him, but held tightly to the fact that we had met our milestones and that he had been discharged from Early Intervention Services.

As we began our second year of Mommy and Me, I was totally in love with my infant son and sure that whatever difficulties #1 son was having would iron out.  It was not to be.  His activity and attention level deficits were becoming more pronounced from his peers.  He was talking, but still not having a dialogue with me.  He loved being around other children yet he wasn't playing the same way they were.  Reluctantly, I telephoned the local Intermediate Unit and set up an appointment for an evaluation.

I was terrified of a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, but I knew something wasn't right and we needed help.  My infant was 6 months old and while he was a happy, easy baby, I was overwhelmed with fear and exhausted.  I wanted to enjoy him!  I wanted to return to my neighborhood playgroup.  I missed being around my friends.  I missed being able to attend our wonderful little church with my husband.  My family needed some relief and some answers.

The day of the evaluation was a beautiful spring day.  My sister came to babysit and my husband and I went off with our boy to our appointment.  We arrived at the old church building and had to jog across the parking lot to keep up with our youngster as he ran ahead and into the door.  We caught up to him inside and were ushered into a classroom by three smiling therapists.  We began to answer questions and there was note taking and observations being made of my son's behavior. After about 15 minutes, the school psychologist sat at the end of the rectangular, child-sized table and began her explanation.

She placed her left hand, karate-style, on one end the table and said, "This is autism.".  Then she placed her right hand, also karate-style on the other end of the table and said "This is Asperger's." What?  Was she saying he had autism?  I only knew about non-verbal, hand flapping autism and my son had none of these qualities.  I began to argue vehemently with this woman.  "My son does NOT have autism!", I said in an almost threatening tone of voice.  My husband fell silent.  She went into some explanation of how he was at the high functioning end, and how this was not uncommon considering our intelligence levels as his parents and....

I stopped hearing her.  I didn't believe her.  After all, my son could read I told her.  "Hyperlexia.", she said.  "Well he knows how to get to my husband's place of employment and points it out everytime we go by.", I desperately explained.  "That's common in these children."  Oh. "But, he's learning to talk!  He carefully repeats what I say!".  "That's called echolalia.", she gently explained. I went on offering other explanations, including his premature birth and couldn't it be ADHD?  The therapists stood firm to their findings and told us a written report would follow.  Defeated, we left for home.

When we emerged from the church my eyes squinted against the brightness of the day.  By the time I got to the car, I had to squeeze my eyes shut against the light.  As we started the silent ride home, I looked out of the window and everything was yellowish.  I reached for my sunglasses, but it didn't change things much.  I remember a little brick house with azalea bushes along our route.  It was yellow, too.  So were the bushes.  I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear them, but everything remained tinged with yellow.  For the rest of the ride I observed all of the yellowness with detached curiosity.  I felt dead inside.

When we walked into the house my little boy ran ahead and happily got back to his things.  My sister asked me how things had gone and I collapsed into her arms choking back sobs.  My mother came over after a phone call and everyone tried to assure me that things would be fine.  I knew that nothing would ever be fine again, not even one little bit.  Our lives were forever changed.

When Maternity Leave is Over

Recently I attended a family birthday party.  The sister of the celebrant is a new mom.  She was there along with her beautiful six month old son.  Like me, she waited a long time to have this baby.  He is her first and was born after her fortieth birthday.  She and I were having an intimate discussion about the love you feel for your infant.  She told me that her maternity leave was nearly over and finances dictated that she return to work.  She explained how she came to choose which daycare center her son would attend.  I could see the pain in her eyes.  She bowed her head when she talked, lowered her eyes to the ground and sadly contemplated how on earth she was ever going to be able to leave him.  I felt my stomach wrench as I remembered the days when I was faced with making the same decision.

My due date was December 30, 2001.  I had calculated that I would go out on maternity leave before Christmas and return to work five months later at the end of May.  I was finally working for the Family Division in the Courts for the State of New Jersey after many years of trying to obtain a position.  Working for the government can be tricky.  It's fraught with mandatory job postings, multiple interviews, interdepartmental red tape, hiring freezes and, of course, politics.  I had actually been offered a position seven years earlier only to have it rescinded because of a lack of funding.  I was thrilled when the job finally came through.

My employer offered a twelve month maternity/paternity leave.  Since there is no salary after six weeks of disability pay and my husband and I had just moved into a new home, I could only afford to take five months of leave.  We started saving and put a hold on adding a stone paver walkway in the front, a patio or deck out back and some other personal touches.

The second trimester of my pregnancy was concluding on September 11, 2001.  By the time I was in the courtroom in Mercer County, NJ preparing my cases for that day, I knew of the plane crashes into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon.  I placed my hand on my belly and felt my baby moving inside of me.  For the first time, I experienced the fear of a parent for a child.  These insanely cruel events were unfolding sixty-five miles north and one hundred seventy five miles southwest from where I was sitting.  What the hell was going on?

Two weeks later I was hearing child support cases in the same Mercer County Courtroom when my water suddenly broke.  I was twenty six weeks pregnant.  I drove to the hospital in Pennsylvania where I had planned to give birth. My husband left his job and met me half way.  He and my mom sat bedside as the doctor confirmed that the water sac, or membrane, had completely ruptured.  After receiving a steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop, I was transferred by ambulance to another hospital better equipped to care for babies born so premature.

My son was born on October 9, 2001 at twenty eight weeks, two days gestation.  He cried the sweetest most beautiful cry when he was delivered.  He weighed three pounds.  His condition was stable until he was about a week old and then his little lungs just got tired.  "Chronic lung disease" also known as "bronchopulmonary dysplasia" set in.  He was hooked up to supplemental oxygen.  The following weeks were awful.  It was especially hard when other parents who had been there as long as us started taking their babies home and our son was still struggling.  It was like a punch in the stomach reminding us that our little boy was still sick.

He finally came home from the hospital on oxygen December 21, 2001 after a seventy three day stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  He was discharged on oxygen, an oxygen monitor, an apnea monitor and several meds that I had to chart so I could keep track.  In truth though, I was no longer afraid.  I was so happy to have him home and I had been practicing his care for three months at the hospital.  My only requirement for peace of mind was to basically hold him all the time.  Sleeping with him beside me was a bonus I had never considered, but one I took to easily, resting my hand on his chest to feel him breathe.

By March and six months into my maternity leave, my son needed supplemental oxygen only at night while he slept.  My wonderful pediatrician and his brilliant RN and wife were always reassuring and complimentary of my parenting.  They had a tremendously positive effect in our lives.  With their guidance, we bravely weaned off of the monitors.  I slowly eased into an almost typical new baby experience.  The joy of having a newborn was finally mine.

I remember sitting on my bed with my son nestled against me reading "Goodnight Moon" before his nap time.  Then, I'd lay face to face with him on my bed and nurse him to sleep.  It was April and I would crack open a window in the bedroom and be surrounded  by the delicious aroma of spring air.  Almost always I noticed I would hear the sound of a small plane or a lawn mower off in the distance.    He usually fell asleep whenever I noticed the low, even droning of a motor in the background.  Often, I'd doze as thoughts of going back to work would creep into my mind disturbing my peace.  I didn't know how I could leave this fragile boy.  I didn't know how I could stay home and survive financially.

In July, ten months of maternity leave behind me, my son no longer needed oxygen!  The fireworks we enjoyed that summer took on a special meaning for so many.  My son's freedom from dependence on a machine was not lost on me as I watched sparkles of red, white and blue explode in the night time sky.

I was agonizing over what to do about my job.  I believed that we could not afford to stay in our home if we lost my income.  We were warned by doctors not put our son in daycare because catching a cold could have become life-threatening for him.  There was no part time employment available for me in my office.  Our families were unable to commit to providing full time day care.  We were uncomfortable with the idea of leaving him at home in a stranger's care.  There was no guarantee I would be rehired if I chose to resign.  I had waited so long for that job and my income was soon to reach six figures.  I was giving up a lot no matter what decision I made and I was frantic with worry.

Ultimately, I came to realize that the only answer for me was to stay home with my son.  I notified my office of my resignation with a heavy heart.  Though certain I had made the right choice, I experienced a sense of loss.  I never thought I would miss my professional self.  I was wrong.

I am left with a greater respect for all moms who are faced with the decision of what to do when maternity leave comes to an end.  I now understand why some moms need to return to their jobs even if finances are not an issue. Whatever the case may be, I for one, will be supportive and provide encouragement to all moms I know.  With either choice we make, a little bit of ourselves is left behind.  

A Blocked Blogger

I've heard of writer's block.  I was worried I may experience early on-set blogger block.  Chalk it up to a single remark made by someone who read my last post about dreams. "What's the point?"  To begin with, I was feeling a little unsure about that piece.  Add to that, I was not expecting that sort of a reaction.  I was unprepared to hear a churlish remark from someone I liked.  It was an emotional ambush and I lost.

I had asked this person to read my blog because I was feeling proud of myself.  In fact, earlier that day I had been feeling as happy as I remember feeling in a long time.  It was a combination of the lightness of youth, the exhilaration of being plugged in to the world and the satisfaction of being appreciated.  And I liked it!

For as much as I wanted to dismiss the comment, I thought about it as I drove home.  I tossed and turned that night mulling it over.  I woke up the next morning feeling like maybe I didn't have anything worthwhile to contribute after all.

This blog is important to me.  It may not ever be read by tons of people.  It may not be profound. So what if it doesn't ever provide me a segue into a much needed income?  I will continue to write it because it makes me feel good.  Somewhere along the line I heard a saying, "...don't act small because of the way they treat you when you act big...".  I probably mutilated that quote, but its meaning is clear and I need to learn from it.

I have a lot to say and the experience to back it up.  Until you hear a little bit more from me, don't underestimate yourself or anyone else.  It's still wonderful to be surprised.

Only In My Dreams

I went to lunch with some friends for a birthday celebration.  The birthday girl chose a local restaurant known for its sushi.  I am not a fan of sushi.  It's not that I am wary of adventure, it's this severe allergy to tilapia I've recently developed.  I have read that salmon and tuna along with tilapia are among a group of fish that adults like me are becoming allergic seemingly out of nowhere. My reaction was severe and probably had  something to do with parasites.  Enough said.

We had a lot of fun at lunch.  They enjoyed their meal and we laughed at my being frightened by the eel on their platter.  I declared my area a serpent-free zone.  Then one of my friends regaled us with a tale of a joke played on her in just such a restaurant when something ordered for her was served with its organs still functioning.  Yep.  That's what she said.  As a life long lover of all creatures, I could hardly stand it.

The morning after our lunch, I woke up with the vivid recollection of a dream of a blanched dolphin, white and still, being carved like a turkey and the pieces of meat being neatly arranged on a plate.  Then the animal blinked his eye.  I still shudder at the thought.

There have been times that after a hard relationship day when I am certain I have been the victor, I have a dream that my husband has met another woman and left me.  So instead of carrying my feeling of superiority into the the next day, I find myself contrite and apologetic.

I have experienced the death of  family members over and over again.  I wake up sobbing and then relieved that it had been just a dream.  There have been car accidents, kidnappings and abandonment themes with which I've had to contend.  It's terribly upsetting, yet I continue to knock them off.

About 20 years ago, I read a book about programming your dreams to help you work out challenges in your life. It was "Living Your Dreams" by Gayle Delaney.  http://www.amazon.com/Living-Your-Dreams-Problems-Enrich  There are easy step by step instructions to follow at bedtime.  It was truly cool and it really worked.  Nothing psychedelic required. Since we are the author of our dreams, casting characters and dialogue, we are the best candidates for deciphering their meaning. Possibly something for me to look into so I can stop tormenting myself as I sleep.

Every once in a while, though, even I can have something kind of nice come out of an otherwise disturbing dream.  Most recently, I was on a fishing boat with my brother and some friends.  Somehow, I kept getting left behind on little islands where we would stop to catch blue claw crabs and things.  I was chasing after the boat with my fishing gear tangled around me.  Suddenly, a very nice looking guy, tanned and shirtless stopped to give me a hand.

The next day for me was spent being a little bit contrite and apologetic.

Anxious about Autism...Again

Yesterday was hectic.  It began by my 7 year old being in intense pain with the onset of his second ear infection.  The first had just resolved after 6 weeks, 5 doctor appointments and 5 prescriptions.  I was scheduled to volunteer at the elementary school's semi-annual bookfair at 8:40 AM.  I administered ibuprofen to my boy and waited.  By the time it kicked in (that stuff is miraculous) and I knew he could go to school we headed out, but we were late.  It was just 25 minutes, but the stage was set for an off day.

At 1:15 PM as I was leaving, my volunteer duties completed, I was called aside by a therapist at the school.  She works with my 10 year old who is on the Autistic Spectrum.  This therapist is someone I trust.  We have been collaborating for 5 years on my son's behalf.  He has always been mainstreamed and his issues have been pretty much text book for his disorder.

As his 4th grade school year winds down, I was asked to think about our upcoming meeting to discuss 5th grade and how it would affect the transition to middle school.  She mentioned something about him being placed in the Autistic Support Program in middle school and from that moment, I didn't hear anything else she said.  My mind started racing.  "What?"  "Why would we do that?"  "But, wait, he's always been in regular classes."  "Is he getting worse?"  "Oh, no."  "Please, no."

Despite my ability to advocate for services, for several years after his diagnosis at age 3 1/2, I did not say the words Autism or Asperger's.  I just couldn't.  In fact, if any family member, educator or therapist tried to give me information on the disorder I would become overwhelmed with anxiety. Usually, these situations would send me fleeing in the direction of home to safety.  Any plans I may have had would have to be postponed or cancelled.  Forget about laundry, cooking, grocery shopping and the rest of it.  It was a bad place and a bad time.  And I thought it was totally behind me.

I had a lunch date yesterday afternoon with a good friend with whom I volunteered at the bookfair.  She was very accommodating and after I told her about the conversation with the therapist, she happily accompanied me to my house and we ordered take-out.  Ah, sweet safety.

Later,  I secured a last minute appointment at the doctor for my 7 year old's ear infection.  When I got there, I realized I had forgotten my purse with my insurance information and credit cards so I had to call my husband to bring it to me.  

I missed my yoga class last night at 7.

Thank goodness days like this don't happen very often anymore.  Overall, I made it to the doctor appointment.  I touched base with a friend who is also an autism parent.  I took good care of my boys.  I slept pretty well last night.  I think I did a little bit better.

A beginning

There's so much to say about so many things that a blog is what I need to do.  I start by saying that I am a mom of two boys, 7 and 10.  My 7 year old is a typically developing child and my 10 year old has mild autism spectrum disorder.  All things children are ok for today.  I am grateful.

I am a wife.  I have been married for 12 years.  I have learned much about myself through navigating my marriage.  Some of what I learned didn't surprise me and some shocked me.

I am unemployed.  I say that because I have been interviewing for jobs both in and out of my field for 4+ years even though I last worked full time in 2001.  I had been working for the State of New Jersey when my first son was born and I was unable to return as I had planned because he was premature and needed me to be home.  I wanted to return to my job.  Last September 1st, Governer Chris Christie enacted legislation to prevent people from outside of the state from being employed there unless they agree to move into New Jersey within one year of being hired.  Unfortunately, I was not hired back before the law took effect.   Frustrating.

Those are the highlights of the current events in my life.  Some good days and some bad.  I hope to grow through this blog by sharing about my life in the areas mentioned.  Hope you can identify with this Little Bit.