The Fabricated Goddess

Summer Days...

http://instagr.am/p/Im4kT/

Never Work With Kids Or Animals....

Simply because they'll out-cute you every time.  

Meet Inu.  Our furry four legged family member.  She is rather sweet and unusually loving.  The kids fight over who gets to snuggle her.  She's just happy to be loved.

 

Some Things Never Get Old....

Tonight we watched Monty Python's Holy Grail.  Ethan is, at the moment, studying comedy.  And by studying, I do mean studying.  He's watching, dissecting, and soaking up comedy.  Figuring out what is funny and what is not.  We have listened repeatedly to old Bill Cosby recordings and watched numerous YouTube videos of various kinds.  He is a great fan of 'random' humour.  I thought it my parental duty to make sure he appreciate the roots of some of that 'random' humour he loves so very much.  And surely Monty Python is one of the most random thing I've ever watched.  Irreverent, silly, and well, down right off the wall most of the time.  In other words, right up Ethan's alley.

To my surprise, both the boys loved it.  I think we will be hearing much Knight who say 'ni' and animators who have fatal heart attacks thus saving the heros from peril.  

Best lines in the movie (well, tonight anyway): 

'Who's that then?'

'I dunno, must be a king.'

'Why?'

'He hasn't got shit all over him.'

Somehow, this was just what was needed after a long, long, ass-kicking Monday.

 

 

Just To Be Clear....

Fecal dust is not a term we throw around here regularly.  It's a term we use in order to communicate effectively the importance of hygiene.  Germs are just too, too, um, well, invisible.  We found it necessary to make it real.  To make germs a little more concrete.  

Because nothing sends an Aspie running for the soap and water faster than imagining poop particulate is clinging tenaciously to everything they touch.  

Parenting.  Oh yeah, I got that one sewn right up.

 

 

The Inevitable....

Today is Ethan's 12th birthday.  It's impossibly hard to comprehend that twelve years ago today I was wondering what the hell just happened to me.  I felt as if I'd been run over by a truck.  Not to mention this baby that I suddenly had.  It's such an odd thing when you have your first baby - or, well, at least it was for me - to become a mother in one swift instant.  To realize that no matter what happens from that day forward, that you are unalterably change from the girl-woman you were into a mother.  It's an incredibly, if a wee bit scary, thing.  

This year has been full of great changes for Ethan.  The least of which is his diagnosis, although of course that was pretty big.  A year ago he was an inch and a half shorter than I, with a piddly sprout of hair on his upper lip just beginning to grow, and a rapidly deepening voice.  Today he is a full 4 + inches taller than I am, shaving and sounding like a man.  Also, he smells distinctly like a goat most of the time, but I digress.  He has grown so much, not only in his physical self, but in his understanding of who he is and what he needs and although it's clear we still have a long way to go, he really has come such a very long way.  

So, happy birthday, dear Ethan.  You introduced me to parenthood.  You stretch me and make me reach beyond what I think I can handle (sometimes on an hourly basis), you always make me laugh - even when you are simultaneously pissing me off, and you still let me hold your hand at the mall.  In fact, you reach for mine more often than I can count and that, my boy, is an amazing gift.  

 

It Has A Name....

 

There really wasn't a moment that I didn't know that Ethan was something different - I hesitate to use the words 'special' or 'not normal' because they are so loaded with negative judgement - but looking back, I knew, in my mama heart that the road ahead would be difficult, and that it would be a struggle at times.  I also knew that I would do whatever it took to be on that road with him every step of the way.  I remember one quiet moment in particular when he was just a few days old.  He was in one of those exhausted, nursing induced comas and I just sat and held him, and cried.  And I distinctly remember feeling bittersweet about him, recognizing that that moment was the most protected from life that he would ever be.  It made me feel acutely sad and helpless and small.  

Yesterday was the end of an era for me.  A little over a decade of parenting in the dark.  Of knowing deep in my bones that some things were not in alignment for Ethan, but unable to make anyone really hear that.  We were told over and over that it was a stage, a phase, a pit-stop on the highway of growing up that would pass.  We did everything we could for him without really knowing what it was we were dealing with.  And we did a lot of those everythings right.  So it was not a shock, or defeat, or even a disappointment to hear the experts say that yes, in fact, your son does have Asperger's Syndrome - an ASD.  This news was received with relief.  For him.  For us.  Today and going forward we have a new set of tools in our basket -  understanding, support, funding, but most of all, we have validation.  We aren't crazy overprotective parents with a difficult behaviour problem child.  We aren't permissive parents with a child run-wild.  We aren't inept, or undisciplined parents with a demanding rule the roost child.  We are parents who desperately love this boy of ours, who want what's best for him, who want him to grow up and be a productive member of society.   Whatever it takes to make the dots all connect for him to fully realize his potential - that's what we will do.  

Today is not about mourning the loss of what might have been, or bemoaning what will never be.  I've spent a good deal of time the last 11 and a half years doing that.  Today is about celebrating a new beginning.  And August 19th is the new anniversary of the day Ethan was knighted an Aspie.  A celebration of embracing what you really are with all your strengths and weaknesses. 

Because in the end, that's all we can really hope for - knowing oneself and growing from there.

High Praise....

Face painting today for Christmas Light Up.  

Many many kids patiently waited for me to paint puppies and butterflies and snowmen on their expectant faces. Some chattered happily.  Some cringed at the tickley paint brush on their sweet cheeks.  Many said 'please'. Many said 'thank you'.  Some wondered 'is it MY turn NOW?'.  Some got so impatient that they tried to cut in line.  

But one just simply said 'wow'.

And it really doesn't get any better than that.

Annnnd, One Step Back....

Sorry gang, no real post tonight.  Difficult evening with the big E.  All sorted now.  Par for the course.  

Tomorrow we are back to our regularly schedule....oh who am I kidding, there's no schedule.

See you then.

A Visit....

Yesterday I had a lovely visit with the Susanne, winner of the purse!  We had such a great, if too quick, visit and a fab cup of coffee.  

 

:: The sun was streaming through her front window. ::

:: Her children delighted and entertained. :: 

And although she got a new purse, I'm pretty sure I was the lucky one.  

Balance....

I'm still struggling to find the balance around here between all the parts of me. The me that homeschools E. The me that need to maintain some semblance of order around the house. The me that need to be attentive to the needs of not just the wee people and wee pup but also the grown up in the house too. The me who's creative synapses are firing in a million different directions right now. The me who is actually producing some amazing stuff.

The problem I'm still having though is that when that me who creates and invents takes over it's a little bit like the Bugs Bunny cartoon where he drinks the potion and becomes Jekyll and Hyde. I feel a little beastly right now. I'm knee deep in a project that needs to be completed by Tuesday and it's going well. I'm so pleased with it. Resentment is mounting though. I mean, when I'm on a roll, I don't even like to stop to eat or go to the bathroom. People, I resent bodily functions when I'm in this state. I mean, how ridiculous is that? It's like I'm temporarily inserted into a manic state, and let me tell you, it's not really all that fun for me or my family. Yesterday I showered (novel idea) and I was in such a rush that I forgot to put on deodorant. And that's not the worst part. The worst part is that I realized I hadn't put any on and I chose to ignore the fact based on the fact that stopping what I was doing and trekking back upstairs would be too much a waste of precious time. I'm starting to understand why some artist are such social misfits (read: total nutters).

The rest of my life is falling apart too. The kids and the dog and the adults in my life have been sadly neglected. The house? Oh the house. It's a disaster. The laundry has sneaked off and multiplied itself under my very nose. The clutter has crept back in. There are (and I kid you not) fabric scraps tracked through the whole house. I keep finding them absolutely everywhere.

I think I need to stop reading blogs like Soulemama and Angry Chicken. These women! I love their blogs (and their work) truly, I do. Problem is they seemingly do it all. Their blogs are full of lovely photos depicting happy children doing crafts (!) and project updates and beautiful studios with stacks of neatly folded fabric on display and recipes for actual food they serve their family and (AND!!) they write books. Beautiful books all while nurturing their families, sewing things for their shops, photographing every lovely moment. Don't they ever have meltdowns? Don't they ever serve grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple slices for dinner again? Don't they ever look around and want to scream at the piles of project and the long list of other demands? Don't they ever scream and have to apologize after? Is the sun always shining in their world? Maybe it's all just carefully edited. Maybe they are just as nutters as me from time to time. But clearly, peaking into their worlds is not helping me cope with mine.

Here's what I need. I need to find some real mama craft blogs where after a day of harried sewing/cooking/cleaning/fight-breaking-upping they sit slightly slumped and glassy eyed on a couch full of unfolded laundry and drink a glass of wine before shuffling into bed, which for the record, is unmade.