Emotional spending or structured getaway?

OK So I will just disclaimer. On days I wake up all of a sudden, the household is already up and husband is kissing me goodbye while leaving for work at 8ish I usually have a little more anxiety.

Then, coming downstairs and seeing the energy level and my boy starting to work into stimulation (running around in circles, repeating the same thing) its upps the anty.

Usually I need to decide on the kind of day for us right away.

 Either I plan a strict schedule, tell myself not to worry about it and keep moving with the day. Because I can handle things how they happen (but it is hard for me-meaning sometimes I am just big and tired).

So when the kids ran outside while I was eating my cereal (in pj's no less) and then the neighbor kids came over (3 of them) I was like "OH no".

I think first I'll give it 20 minutes and stand by the slider door and eat my cereal but as soon as I see any sign of struggle between my oldest and the youngest (I think he is about 3) which I intervene I know I need to reasess.

This means I give the kids a 5 minute warning after I see more energizing from Andrew (and banned them from coming in the house-I just cleaned it up yesterday!) Because at 9:30 in the morning its just too early to have social confrontations for me to handle between my oldest and the other kids.

Yes, yes. There are no guarantees but it is highly likely that it will happen. I am not being pessimistic about he situation I just know my son.

When I start seeing some of these behaviors right in the morning its really easy to start worrying about about the new school year and then this can spiral into worrying about the other parts of the future with a 3rd child! This is where someone needs to dump cold water over my head and say "Calm down!"

I-just like my son- need to be distracted and make a very scheduled day and figure out how to make it "fun" for all of us. How to help the day build on what we can do instead of worrying about what hasn't worked and being sad or bothered about it.

My first thoughts are of escaping on vacation as a family

 (seriously, go to Disneyland-one reason why our passes were so awesome and dreamy to me when we lived down there) because even though Disneyland was stimulating it had a lot going on. We have been going to Disneyland since our guy was little.

When it was just us and the kids or me and the kids we had figured out how to make it work for our family dynamic. I would take going to Disneyland with Andrew almost any day to going to a crowded Thanksgiving point (the educational fun center that is just a 15 minute drive from our house now).

Believe it or not but I feel like Disneyland is more structured and patterned than anything at Thanksgiving point. Even when Disneyland is really busy its usually full of other families not rogue children.

 There is too much crazy running around and kids whose parents feel can self monitor and are not paranoid like me or have the same needs with their kids let them run loose and this creates more worrisome social dynamics for me as a parent with a child who often does not understand all those things and frankly does not always behave appropriately.


So being 38+ weeks pregnant and tired and sore I think we are going to run errands (Still stimulating) but with my awesome minivan with wireless headphones and a movie that you can pop in and the fact we don't live very close the errands-it will be better than trying to corral anyone all day in my home. Structure and pattern for the day will be a lot easier carried out in a contained environment.

And seeing as now running errands is my escape from the house I kind of realize how its also a pattern of emotional spending! lol I guess we all have our issues to deal with.

Playing Kinder bunnies

Prada heels and hearing voices

I'm very pregnant right now. When I told my OB that I was feeling a bit "Wreck it Ralph" I think it alarmed him. I had to explain it was the quote "My emotions bubble close to the surface"

I sat there and basically started tearing up and explained how  "I just feel on the brink of tears like when they suggested he be transferred to a specialized classroom I went home and lost it-cried uncontrollably"


He sat there (and for the record I love him and think he is a great doctor) looked at me and clarified "who is they?"

And this made me laugh because my first thought was "Oh my gosh he's concerned I am hearing voices!"

Any parent has growing pains-as in learning what it is that your child needs and each child is different. Learning to cope and adapt with these needs.

And OK stepping back I am reminded that when you are pregnant emotions are often brimming.

I could cry for a sad commercial, to see a baby smile, that I can no longer shave my bikini line because my stomach is too big to maneuver around but all these smaller things aside I have to asses my own loss of maybe the hope of a different kind of normalcy.

I have learned that in many ways I am grieving at times the loss of my own dream for my son. I can just see now hell raining down from other parents who would say to me "never wish for a different child!" And I think I could just look at them politely and say "I don't wish for a different child-I wish I knew better how to help mine in the perfect way perfectly so that I never had daunting exhausting moments!"

Actually, probably back that up. I don't' think I could say that politely but I think in a snooty, absurd and immature way I imagine I could just turn up my nose and prance away in Prada heels while they smelled my Chanel no 5.

Because I sometimes too-can only tantrum to express my feelings-I would just figure out how to do it in a very haughty way that I am sure I would feel guilty about later but be very satisfied at the moment.  Like a good ol' "Well you smell like mustard".

Last week I had a big crying moment. After talking my son down from throwing large rocks at me and the others who were at the 'playdate' getting him home, getting him some peaches (I knew he was probably hungry as well so his coping was down) and he self regulated and cheered up I had to go to the bathroom close the door and cry to myself. I also texted my sister. Because I am a person who knows I don't like to cry by myself.

Sometimes it just feels like a lot. It feels exhausting. When the everyday norm doesn't feel like the norm it feels very very heavy.

I think this is a very real part of having a child that has special needs.

So after years of being told that my son was "typical" and me doubting my capabilities as a mom when it seemed that other families did not have the same issues we were dealing with, doing tons of reading of parenting books, online research,

After years of this to go from "HE doesn't need testing" to "We think he would benefit from transferring to a specialized classroom for next year" it was kind of dumbfounding.

This was in the space of like 2-3 months.

I think I was so bothered by it because I think in a way when for so long was validation but when I got it I was sad that he really did need it.

It wasn't just about maybe I was a bad parent, that I wasn't crazy for worrying about these things and dealing with them but that the normalcy that I knew in my education growing up was not what was going to be best for him.

I knew this but when the suggestion came, when the test results came back and the school saw more of the pieces of my child it kind of solidified this path.

For technical purposes I'll be more clear. My son does not qualify for AUTISM. And Autism spectrum disorder is not included anymore in diagnosis for federal autism testing. My son is high functioning, he is verbal, he does not really fit a classic diagnosis of Autism or Aspergers, he has lots of pieces of each. And as I told his school psychologist "I understand this but maybe he is a new niche".

I recognize a big difference in the struggles between parents with children who might be able to be diagnosed as what I might Say is Classic autism (I really don't know if there is a politically correct way to say this-so if its annoying I guess I need to click my Prada's at you for now). I am only somewhat e d u m u h c a t e d.

I am relearning to have empathy for parents with 'typical' kids. My husband does not like this term typical. Because all kids are unique and have different challenges (he is an amazing spouse to have at IEP meetings and BIP meetings btw) but to me in order to be able to recognize the amount of effort I do put in everyday and not judge my own self for not being able to 'control' my child or teach my child by direct example (where they observe and mimick naturally) I needed a way to support my struggles so it is a term I use. And to not feel so frustrated at times "This worked yesterday what kind of day is today going to be like????!" I needed to differentiate between my struggles and others.

And to validate so that I did not keep comparing myself to other parents. What your child doesn't play dead and scream like a feral animal when they are overstimulated and tired and if someone giggles (even not at them) not understand their meaning they don't try to scratch them? hmmm..thats weird.

I have had to come to terms (and I am learning everyday) to have empathy and love for any parent with a child of any age tantrumming (ok this has to be a real word but I can't figure it out...yes see below I am not a perfectionist personality-but my spell check is angry at it right now) because sometimes I want to say while wagging my perfectly manicured finger "Uh, Uh, you have no idea-calm down and stop complaining".

Despite wondering at times if my son would be better off with a mom who was a lot more type A red personality (if there is any real validation in that- I am a yellow who is easily distracted) I realize with my sons naturally very defiant tendencies, it has been good that my quirkyness has benefited him.

And I have to take my own advice at times. It is normal and healthy to have breakdown moments. For any parent of any child to feel tired and overwhelmed. It does not mean I do not love my child it means I care deeply about them and do worry if I can do enough. If I can get all the right help for him and support to help make him a successful human of planet earth-and whatever that means for him.

When you deal with tantrums its like your emotions need to be put in a box in the back of your mind. Your social embarrassment, your anger at the choice they are making. It needs to be locked up so you can deal with it calmly.

And those feelings need to go somewhere and sometimes that is into a tissue in a dark bathroom with the door locked.


My son lives in a world where he is going to have to work extra hard to understand and cope with and my daughter has this amazing ability to verbalize all her emotions whatever that might be which I love and admire and really encourage.

So, tomorrow is a new day. I have my basic routines down with my son and being large (38 weeks along) and swollen (I call my foot a stump because its the same size as my leg currently) I have to be grateful for all that I have.

I can recognize the hardships, challenges, the long exhausting journey I feel like this past year as especially been for our family but the fact that I get to be a mom if frickin awesome.

And if one day I upgrade my worn rainbow flip flops for prada highheels and decided to take the time to get my nails done regularly on my hands then double hallelujah for me-I've probably made it.

One Wedding and a Funeral

                              Just one wedding this year for me. My sister's.
Being that she is older than me, a lawyer and has older kids, she probably has had some more relationship experiences than I have with men and I should not worry. And I don't worry in a real sense (I love this guy!)

 but I still feel the strong desire to whip out a good ol gruff Irish accent and threaten him good in true to a made up home country brogue "You treat her well or I'll have your arse". And I'll squint me eye at him whilst I take me pipe out of my mouth and blow it in little hammer shapes above him.

And-this coming- from a 5'4 160lb blonde female this will be very intimidating. With me suspenders pulled slightly away with my gloved thumbs and my Italian Grandma Body tapping deh boot of me moccasin on the bar's wood floor.


I still have a couple months to find a nice dress to fit this curvaceous mexican/american/scottish/hotchocolate sweating body. Oh but I'll do it.

This weekend has been pretty sucky-for me. And I am pretty sure my hot sexy nurse husband is pooped out as well. I was down and out with strep throat...and got the flu. Like the puke flu. When my body gets angry and sick it likes to let it out all the other end as well. Because basically, even after all the years of evolution in my gene pool my bowels are very weak willed (I would not have survived pioneering).

So tonight, Monday. After my oldest finished his Harry Potter reading. My youngest (yes there are two of em) was sound asleep. I did what any normal, hormonal, socially deprived, recovering sicky would do.

I decided to go on Zillow and look up my house in California. The one we are renting while we are moved to this new country of Utah. Then I go to Redfin and find what looks to be a google camera picture of the front.
Yes, the one bush my husband begged me not to take out-missing. (my intention was to take out all of them....there were three) . The end of the driveway light (that was runover by my husband...by "mistake" according to him. After I told him I was going to put a red and blue light in them and flash the light anytime a car was speeding by. Coincidence? I think not) still duck taped...thats right DUCK taped.

 But seeing our old home, in all its somewhat outdated awesomenes-I mostly noticed the  citrus trees and flowers out front,  and our cars parked out front in the photo. I see the sun shining, trimmed green lawn and lampost.
Well, it made me cry.

It first started as one silent tear falling. Then as my husband comes over (I am laying in our king bed cradling my little netbook) curiously asking what I am looking at-I show him the picture-and start to nearly weep.

"I miss our old house!"

Within a  few minutes l I am semi bawling (the kind that gets stuck in your nose because you are trying to hold it in (and at which point he has brough in reinforcements for me...and himself...chocolate)

"I miss my home Country!"
"I miss having friends come over to visit. I miss not having friends to go visit whenever I want. I miss not having my family nearby! I miss being able to take a walk in shorts and flip flops in January and be in the sunshine!"

As you can guess. Yes, I am a big baby. And Yes, after laying in bed for three days very sick with little protein and forced fluids, stuck inside away from real society....I was not my best self.

So I sit muddled over my hot chocolate (which is delicous) pj shirt and underwear on moaning about my sadness.

 I suggest that maybe I need to have a funeral for my home country of California.

"So you can let it go and move on?" he asks with optimism and brightness returning to his eyes.

"NO! The grieving process is a long one and I am still in angry/sad phase!"

I think this is the point in the story where he should have been allowed to take a courtesy bow and walk backwards awkwardly out of the room and throw chocolate at me (well I should say MORE chocolate he had already made me some hot chocolate which I was crying into...as I said at the beginning...old italian grandma body). But he stayed with me blinking occasionally.

After a few blubbery  breaths I suggested he do the Eulogy for the funeral. I could sit in the corner in a lovely black chanel tweed dress suit with veil over face and beautifully cry into my hermes hankerchief. Short legs crossed on top of the stool I am using (My feet  can't touch the ground unless I am wearing very high heels-which I blame on my mexican gene pool so the stool is necessary). He, handsome as always, carrying out a beautiful speech how "Despite the dang high reality prices, crazy income taxes and electricity rate...California was A M A Z I N G". And I would nod in approval as he sat respectfully next to me patting my knee gently.

Next, Andrea Bocceli would sing "Ave Maria" and come over afterwards, hold my face in his hands and tell me how young my skin feels. And I would say "its due to the Utah weather, I never see the sun and I am constantly applying special cream to my face to not let it crack from the dryness".

Yes, I think I'll have to do this funeral sometime soon.

I think its Ok to mourn the loss of a different life. Of friends. Of family. I don't believe you ever lose anything (besides your mind) or anybody forever. However,   sometimes  it feels we are forced to walk through a door without a turn back handle. Its been 6 months since we moved here and it has felt like when you fit into your skinny jeans again and you are feeling all good and then suddenly 4 days later they are 3 sizes too small. Like a little hope and dream was shattered-and you literally hear it being crushed.



I don't know if I will ever feel like I "fit in" or find "my zone" here if you will. Its just a different culture and-at no surprise to me-I am surviving the winter and don't really enjoy some of the culture changes I have found here
 I have lots of tools I use and coping strategies to deal with this  but it doesn't make it easier. It just makes it throb a  little less. I know it will work out. I need to give it at least 3 years. It seems it can take getting used to anything almost in 3 years. I also think after three years I will better understand if I can swallow more years here or if I need to find an alternative income to get back to my homeland.

And despite my low tolerance bowels-I have a strong heart and soul. And these short legs are going to work that linoleum dance floor at my sisters wedding-in whatever stretchy dress I mush this pregger body into.

Because of this awesome happy wedding-I will get a vacation sooner to California!