I have multiple personalities and none of them like you.

I've been sad lately. Andrew has been so full of anxiety, so much flapping, and running in circles. Every time I speak to his psychologist or teacher at school - I get even more depressed. They all say he will be okay - but it is hard now.


My husband, a good man, says things like "how do we put up with this for the next ___ years" - and it breaks my heart - "put up with"? How dare he say that? Madeleine McCann's parents would give their kidneys to put up with Madeleine for even one more day. Dear God, I can barely function with all of this. I know it sounds as if I'm a wimp - but I'm not - I fight like a dog for my son. I'm his mother, coach, teacher, protector, and lawyer - even defending him to his own father but God I'm tired. I'll rest when I'm dead.

Friday the 9th, Andrew has surgery. We had the blood work and the pre-op and that was stressful enough. Andrew has a total nervous breakdown anytime we go near a doctor's office. Extreme anxiety. Friday will be bad getting him to the hospital and inside. It is just an adenoidectomy for Christ's sake - but for Andrew - it might as well be sending him to the electric chair. He will be a mess and I will be a rock while my heart breaks for him again.

If I can make it through this....

Last week Andrew was sick and only went to school one day and this week is vacation week for schools around here (Passover) and I'm exhausted. I love my son but he is super high maintenance and I'm making myself crazy with every play date, activity, invitation, etc. Will Andrew hit someone? Will he eventually stop screaming that he wants to be first? Will he stop folding his arms and saying go away to everyone? Will he tell me repeatedly "you are not the best mommy in the world"? Will he tell me "I love you forever mommy and I don't want anyone else ever ever ever"? Will he stop asking for "something round" for dinner (cookie, pancake :-)).
Will he stop trying to beat the crap out of his huge brother? Oh dear God....when when when will it get better. Then the poor guy breaks down in tears asking for a friend that we haven't seen for months. Then he flaps and runs in circles because he is so wired and my heart breaks.

I'm so exhausted from stress that I just want to not leave the house. I'm thinking I'll sign up for peapod delivery service and I won't even have to go to the store.

Time to collapse into a coma.

By the way, I'm still fighting those damn birds. I'm looking forward to winter. I want to move to a non-bird country.

This just in Star Jones files for divorce....who won that pool?

Tippi ... I know your pain baby

I'm having a battle with the damn birds. They keep flying into my patio and kitchen windows. (Previous years they would fly into my living room window - and I could almost live with that)....but on my deck - they are continually flying into a window/door and then relieving themselves on my bbq grill, patio furniture, deck box - etc. For Christ sake, I know if you hit a glass window beak on - it's gotta hurt - and I could understand how it might scare the shit out of you but come on. Give a white woman a break.

I put the silhouettes of hawks in the window - I hung flapping black garbage bags on rakes by the window - the damn bird sits on the rake and still shits on my stuff. I'm getting really really mad about this. I'm one of those crazy old women screaming in their backyard - "get out of here!"...my neighbors are loving this I'm sure. My two 80 year old neighbors were outside sitting in their backyard - I told them I'd give them a few bucks if they would flap their arms every couple minutes.

Rick Lavoie

On Monday night, I went to see a lecture given by Rick Lavoie, author of It's So Much Work to be Your Friend as well as other titles. He is a Special Education expert. When it began at 7 p.m. - I was exhausted because Andrew had gotten sick again on Sunday and was home all day with me. He was miserable. I dreaded going to the lecture because Jim and Andrew weren't "getting along" well and I also was just plain tired and wanted to stay home. The lecture was great and it was the best hour and forty-five minutes I spent in a long time. I left feeling positive but also very sad. The stories of these kids with Asperger's, autism, ADD etc. being bullied and the stories of their moms justing wanting their kids to have "just one friend" broke my heart.

We have a long road ahead of us and Andrew is worth every single inch of it we crawl.

Sleep, boy I miss it.

It's like having a newborn again... this waking up every hour or so because Andrew is screaming like he's in a Friday the 13th remake...now he's taken to walking around the house at 3 a.m. We're going to have to put in trip wires that will set off alarms so he doesn't wander out of the house. Andrew has only slept through the night once in the last five weeks.

Last night Jim didn't get home until 2 a.m. - I had gone to bed at 10:30 - Andrew was screaming MOMMY! at 12:15 or so. Then 20 minutes later when I get to sleep again - he's screaming out NO! NO!....then I get to sleep again and I hear Jim come in and warm up his dinner etc. Jim comes to bed - I'm in a coma - although I'm awake - I can't even muster the energy to say, "hello, glad you are still alive". 15-20 minutes later - Andrew is screaming again. I go in to lay next to him because at this point even though I'm a brain wave away from being Karen Ann Quinlan - I know enough that my poor husband needs to get some sleep. I go lay next to him on the slab of death - his mattress (brand new - top of the line firm) -- to me is AWFUL. I'm spread up against the wall like a coat of paint while Andrew is spread all over the bed as comfortable as can be. After two hours of that discomfort - I crawl away begging for Kevorkian to come by and mercy kill me.

An hour later - Andrew is up for the morning - cranky and insisting that he have a cupcake for breakfast and he doesn't want to go to school.

No wonder people drink. Heavily.

But I like cutie

So the therapist says....buy a punching bag, bop bag - and if Andrew is feeling frustrated he can punch it instead of punching his father, brother, you etc.

So we buy a Cars bop bag - and my husband almost has a coronary blowing that bastard up. Andrew LOVES it - and names it "Cutie". Andrew has been hitting his brother who is 6'3" and weighs probably 325 or more. Jim said, "Andrew when you feeling like hitting brother go up and give Cutie a punch." Andrew goes up to Cutie and looks at it - and turns to us and says, "But I like Cutie."

Okay, how could you not laugh!!!