More Cordy-isms: The Passive-Aggressive Edition

“Mommy, I have a cold.”

“Oh, really? I’m sorry to hear that, Cordy.”

“I need ice cream to feel me better.”

“Are you saying you want some ice cream?”

“No, I need ice cream to feel me better.”

————-

“Mommy, what’s the word on the street?”

“I don’t know, what’s the word on the street?”

“Sandwich!”

“Are you trying to tell me you want lunch?”

“Yes.”

————

“Do you miss your grandma, Cordy?”

“Yes! Grandma wants to see me now!”

“Do you mean you want to see grandma?”

“No, grandma wants to see me now!”

————

“Oh-my-dear! My tummy is rumbly!”

(The fact that she exclaims “Oh my dear!” is perhaps the cutest thing in the world.)

————

“Mommy, car is saying something!”

“What’s the car saying, sweetie?”

“Home!”

“Do you mean you want to go home?”

“Yes. Car takes me home.”

————

As you can see, my child never wants anything. At least she never wants anything directly.



Maybe I Should Save For A Tummy Tuck?

I had the fortune to get an evening away with my husband – sans children – last night. We went to the Dublin Irish Festival because Gaelic Storm was playing. The concert venue seating was already full when we got to it an hour and a half early, so we found the best standing room area behind a row of seats and waited, unwilling to give up the best chance at seeing the stage.

As expected, other people believed if they just pushed in further, they could find better spots, even though we could see there was nothing left inside. So we had to deal with a steady stream of people squeezing and pushing past us. Some were rude about it (and drunk), others were trying to be polite. My feet endured the crushing weight of a few big drunk guys on them as they shoved their way into the crowd.

Early on, one lady squirmed her way around Aaron, looked at me said, “Excuse me, mama, comin’ through!” Her eyes had drifted to my belly when she said “mama” and as soon as she passed by I turned to Aaron.

“Did you hear that? She thinks I’m pregnant!”

“No, I didn’t hear her. I’m sure it was just a mistake, since the girl next to us is pregnant.”

And I tried to think of any reason to dismiss her comment. Maybe she calls everyone mama? Maybe she saw the kid next to us, belonging to the group with the actually pregnant woman, and thought he was with us? Maybe I was standing at an awkward angle?

But then just before the concert started, people began to switch direction and come out from the center, realizing there was no where to sit or stand comfortably in there. As one group tried to get past us, a woman pointed right at me and yelled back to her friend behind her, “Be careful, let’s not squish the pregnant lady!”

Somehow, Aaron completely missed that comment, too. But I was mortified. Everyone thought I was pregnant, and pregnant enough to confirm it out loud. But I know that no amount of sucking in my stomach can help me look better because it isn’t just the muscles or fat. It’s loose skin, left over from two pregnancies.

I’m working on tightening those muscles, and I’m still working out to get rid of any excess fat, but I don’t think the skin will ever bounce back. My only solution for now is to wear Spanx whenever I don’t want to look pregnant, because they do a great job at compressing all of that loose skin and flattening my stomach again. Maybe someday I’ll save up for a tummy tuck to remove that loose skin so I don’t look like I’m 4 month away from diapers, burp cloths, and every two hour feedings.

Although if it’s true that everyone at the concert thought I was pregnant, they were all being assholes by not offering me a seat. After standing in one spot for two and a half hours, I think I might have considered sticking out my stomach a little more if it would get me a seat.



Haiku Friday: Can You Help A Fellow Blogger, Sister?

Have you heard the news?
Bad stuff is happening to
bloggers everywhere.

Some are losing jobs
Others losing health or life –
Bad times all around

As for me, today
for the first time ever I
have no insurance

Jobs are still scarce here
Aaron applies daily but
The phone is silent

Want to help others?
Join Kristen in August to
Blog the Recession

It’s very simple:
Click through to read your blogs on
the actual URL

Such a simple act
Can boost ad revenue for
your favorite bloggers

It’s a brilliant idea. Since it seems like hard times are falling over many right now, why not commit to help each other out? We may all be short on money, but it doesn’t take much to click the post title in your feed reader and read it on the actual blog.

I’ve already been doing a version of this for some time. If there is a post that I particularly like, I will find an interesting ad (like a Google Ad) for that blogger and click on it to earn them a little more money. I’m willing to look at interesting ad to help a fellow blogger out. Along with a comment, it’s my way of saying thanks – like leaving a tip in a tip jar, only you don’t have to give any money, just a little time. You can grab a button and join in over at Motherhood Uncensored.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below or at Jennifer’s blog with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). DON’T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! We will delete any links without haiku!



Ups and Downs: Currently In The Downs

It’s amazing how much harder it is to blog in the summertime. When Cordy’s regular special needs preschool ended, I worried how her behavior might change as a result of this change in routine. She needs that routine, so she knows what to expect each minute of the day. Without routine, she’s fidgety, hyperactive, defiant, and sometimes just plain manic. I was so excited when she was recommended for the district’s special needs summer school, knowing that some continuation of routine would be good for her.

The week between the end of class and the beginning of her summer school wasn’t too bad. She was a little off, but overall we found ways to keep her days filled with activity. Then summer school started, and she hated the new routine. Unlike the regular school year, she rode the bus both ways instead of just one way, her school day was longer, and she had new teachers and new classmates.

I had hoped that my Amazon warrior princess would adjust quickly to the new school. And she did adjust a little, but the last day of school was last Thursday, and she still cried getting onto the school bus, just like she did every day before that. She never wanted to go to school, begged to stay home, and occasionally told me she wanted to see her old teacher.

But even worse is that her behavior started to backslide even while in school. She would come home from school and be on the verge of a meltdown if we didn’t cater to her demands. There ae some weird new habits that she’s developed, like constantly putting her fingers in her mouth or licking her hands. And while potty training was starting to reach some success, for the past week and a half it’s been a complete failure.

Now summer school is over, and while she starts a camp next week, I’m ready to cry uncle. This backslide is so difficult. She’s still an adorable girl who charms everyone with her politeness – even while in a screaming fit, she’ll still answer your requests with “No, thank you!” Cordy also can melt your heart as she hugs you and says, “You’re my best friend.” But the manic running back and forth, the constant repetition of scripted phrases, the shrieks and screams when we do something she doesn’t like, and the self-inflicted injuries when we try to correct her are wearing me down.

I know that when it comes to autism, there are periods of growth and periods of regression, however we’ve had such a long up period that this downward tumble is painful to experience. I try to be a good mom, try not to take the screams personally and try not to take out my frustrations about her behavior on her. I know that she has trouble controlling her reactions to sensory stimuli and keeping her emotions in check.

Then Cordy pushes me too far, and I lash out at her, yelling, imposing strict punishments, followed by cooling down and crumpling to the floor, feeling like I’m not cut out for this kind of parenting. I wonder why me? How can someone like me – an average mom, fumbling along for the first time – be expected to pull this child out of the fog she’s often trapped in? Where’s my handbook on how to raise her to be a successful member of society?

The small bit of good news is that we just found out that we’ve been approved for funding through the county’s developmental disability office. This means we’ll be able to seek out more therapy and treatment for Cordy, with the county picking up any costs that insurance won’t. (Which means everything, since our health insurance will not cover any treatment for autism, considering it an “untreatable” condition. Bastards.) And they’ll help cover the costs for me to attend an autism conference in October, where I hope to learn more about how I can best help my daughter.

It’s a good thing that I’m getting on a plane for BlogHer on Thursday. I need an escape – just for a little while – from all of the stress at home. Hopefully I’ll be able to come back refreshed and ready to find new ways to handle any further backsliding Cordy may have.


(PS – Thanks for all of the well-wishes on my exam on Friday. I’m proud to say that not only did I pass, I scored the third best in my entire class. I guess I knew more than I thought I did!)



Each Time A Door Closes…

…another one opens, right? And hopefully it is a bigger, better door: prettier, shinier, brighter, more comfortable, makes you happier, pays better, offers more perks.

Oh, that kind of wandered off, didn’t it?

I had planned a cutesy post about a topic that I thought was important today: men’s cologne. And I was all set to write about that until my husband called me around 4:30 pm to tell me he was coming home early today.

Because he lost his job.

Dammit.

I’d like to say this came completely out of the blue, but it didn’t. When he started working for this state agency two years ago, it was a non-political agency. With our new governor (a man who has made me question if he really is a Democrat) in place, he quickly set about putting this agency under his control, allowing him to appoint a leader of the agency.

Shortly after that, people who had worked there before this change of leadership began disappearing. Some transferred or found other jobs, others were encouraged to find employment elsewhere, and for those who remained, many were reassigned to new positions.

Aaron watched as his entire department was torn down, leaving him with the jobs of those who were no longer there, along with his own responsibilities. Despite the additional work, he received no pay raise, since our lovely governor had frozen the pay of most state employees. But at least he still had a job, so we continued on with little complaint.

More people disappeared, though, and this time new people appeared, despite a state hiring freeze. These new people held positions that had never been advertised on the state’s jobs website and collected comfortable salaries. Some didn’t even seem to know how to do parts of their job. Aaron was again given new responsibilities that didn’t suit his skill set, yet also was expected to continue with most of his previous job, too.

But today it all ended. After overloading him to the point that no single person could accomplish all of those tasks in a timely manner, and giving him a useless manager who never responded to his multiple requests to meet and discuss his responsibilities, he was told his services were no longer needed. Pack up your desk, turn in your keycard, and see you again never.

We’re not in a state of panic – yet. Probably because it’s still sinking in. The paychecks will run out in mid-July, and our health insurance is good through the end of July. Then we’ll panic for sure. We’ll have the option of Cobra after that, but there’s no way we can afford it. And last I checked, gas is $4 a gallon and the job market suuuucks.

We’ll get by somehow. We both bring in a little money from writing, and his resume is sitting on several desks already. Aaron has been unhappy with his job for several months, so the job hunt actually started back in March. Hopefully this is some kind of blessing in disguise, and the ideal job will fall into his lap as a result.

Until then, I’ll be reading Megan’s eBay column carefully to learn how to make the best auction listings, and temporarily giving up my search for a Wii Fit. I’ll also try to convince my sweet, devoted husband to not bother getting me a birthday gift this Saturday, because in this case, the thought will be good enough.

This is a big setback, financially, but it’s not the end of the world. At least he won’t be under so much stress from the toxic work environment he had to deal with. Aside from having no income at the moment, things aren’t too bad: we’re healthy, we have supportive friends and family, and we have each other. I’d say that’s still better than what many have.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...