Holidays Galore

So, the fat man who takes all the credit is gone. Only 20 more Holidays to go....

Ok. Not 20 but close to 10 more....

Christmas went by without any major glitches, just a child who kept screaming at the top of her lungs that Santa has forgotten a present or two or three...I kindly explained that he had left some of her list for 3 Kings Day, but she wasn't having it...

I ignored her for most of the afternoon, because that's what I do best.

She woke up at 7am on Christmas morning, wanting to open presents and me wanting a bed, a big bed.

I ended up playing V-Motion with her till about 9am and making swans with her new Bendaroos. She gets the toys and instructs us to play. Ain't she dear?

I spent Christmas at my house with my family and friends and Kamila....it was swell.

Christmas Eve was spent trying to avoid the rain, with a scarf over my head, speaking like a Columbian Gyspy reading "tarot cards" to family members.

I had never seen my aunt cry so much.

The next day, EVERYONE wanted a 'reading'.

I might have a part time in the psychic industry after all....

Miss C got a bike, she loves it, but hates to ride it, she commands that I push her every 5 minutes...

I hate the bike.
It wears me out.

She only rides it for 5 mintues at a time.

True says I need a bike.

I say bikes are the creation of the devil.

I may be right.

I've spent the rest of the days taking Miss C out, enjoying the time off and trying to get some sleep...all in all...it has been good.

Santa even got me a new camera...so my old one has been put to rest.

and the new one has already been put to good use...enjoy!



Happy Holidays....

The plans are already set. The dates are almost completely plotted out and the menu is read’ to go. Nothing extraordinary. I mean, besides the extraordinary people who will be with me. The longest Holidays in the world (we finish about the second weekend in January) with the people I love and hate. Bro, his girl, True, my aunt, Vader, Miss C, Empress and mini Empress Kamilia. I pitty the fool male in our presence.

Card games await, “briscas” (Spanish cards), UNO,coquito, and jokes (I’m already looking some up) and of course a little girl who will say:

“You people seem like you are fighting. You talk too loud”.

Honey, we are Nieves (our last name), we were born with a Bose system inside the box of our lungs.

The presents are under the tree with no name tags because Miss C has acquired the Skull of Reading. So, bro, if you by any chance get Vader’s underwear by mistake, please do not try on, since I cannot return anything due to hygienic reasons.

Las night I watched my daughter in her first Christmas (I say “first” because it is the first where she experiments the Holidays in all their splendor), as she prepared gifts made by her little hands for everyone, gifts such as geometric figures cut out of colored paper and toys she is donating. I watched as she wrapped with such care and placed tags on every gift. I saw her illusion, that magic, that enormous heart, thinking about everyone, so everyone can be “happy”.

I thought that for the first time, Christmas will be celebrated at my house, with the people I most love, cherish and admire. We will celebrate in health, with a roof over our heads and delicious food. I thought about those ugly shorts my mom got me one Christmas because there wasn’t money for anything else. I thought about my destroyed illusion. I thought about my reborn illusion by a maternal love that covers everything, supports everything and heals everything. I thought about Vader’s words as she saw me parading about with my new Zune this week:

“I’m so glad you got that. I wanted to buy you one, but I didn’t have enough money”.

That gesture was enough and I almost forgot about those hideous shorts that I wore on that Christmas day so she wouldn’t feel so bad.

I thought about all the things I wish I could buy everyone; all the spectacular gifts in those catalogs across stores everywhere; all the gifts that not even my five pockets could afford to buy. I thought about all those gifts direct from the heart that we bought this year; all those handmade gifts, made by people dedicated to their art, craft, and their talent. I thought about all the glue I still have underneath my fingernails from all that gluing colored pipe cleaners and felt to our gifts for wrapping.



I thought of those who have nothing and my heart shrunk a bit. I thought of He who has given us all, and gave thanks.

Thanks for the Coquito, the presents, that superkickassspectacular dress I bought that fit and didn’t make me suicidal, my mom, my best friend, my family, my new niece and my daughter and her Christmas Illusion on her First Christmas.

And I asked God to direction to remain equally grateful and be able to see those small details of love towards us, every single day and asked for the ability to keep giving and loving and appreciating all that He has given us…and before I ended my prayer, I asked for one more thing…

I asked to keep giving us that winning streak we have at cards over my brother the ex-card champion…

Because winning feels good…and that’s all I want for Christmas.

Happy Holidays to all, pass the keys and put aside your differences and give the best of yourselves to He who gave the best to us…

Love,

Mary P. & Miss C.

Out of the mouth of Miss C

"Momma, what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Miss C asked.

I didn't know if to smile at the fact that she thinks I'm a kid, or cry at the fact that she might think I am a careerless jobless woman...

What a way to begin the festivities...

The Santa wears Chanel


So in walks Santa.

It was Miss C's last day of school and they bring Santa with presents for the kids.

Santa had a French manicure and was looking a tad slender. Out of all the Santa's we could get we got the Santa that is having sexual identity issues and is really Ms. Claus.

Miss C's eagle eye immediately knew something was off.

Santa also saw Miss C’s doubtful eye and called her up first for a gift to keep her busy while the other children received theirs.

She smiled stiff and odd.

She sat with her box unopened and looked on, scrutinizing Santa. I asked her what was wrong.

“That Santa. That Santa is weird. The suit is weird.”

I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wasn’t having it.

“The suit is weird. That isn’t Santa, that Suit is weird”.

I insisted she open up her present. When she did, to her dismay and my disgrace, it was a present she already had.

“I have this. I need a child. I need a child to donate this gift because I already have it.”

I tried to convince her to stay quiet, I pulled her aside.

“Listen to me, do you know what I got one year from Santa, some shorts from Kmart, that’s it. Some really bad shorts in fact. And your grandmother, she used to get fabric, 3 yards of fabric for school uniforms, so you take that gift and hush”.
It was no use.

She wanted to go talk to Santa, I had to hold her. She insisted but when she saw I wasn’t budging, she looked at me and said:
“I know that isn’t Santa. His suit is weird. If that was really Santa, he’d know I have this toy already. That is a weird suit and a weird Santa”.

And that was that.

We managed to exchange the gift for something different and Miss C let Santa go, since she knew that, that Transgender Santa with the French Manicure was not the real thing.

His suit gave him away. So Santa, if you are reading, take note and have Chanel draw you up a nice new suit for Wednesday evening, because Miss C ain’t having anything less than that!

Happy Holidays to all!

Chrismas Update

Ironically enough, now that I have more time (wth less work hours) I have less time to do things.  I am trying to get my stuff together in the house, trying to survive the horrible X mas season and I mean horrible because of the chaos, traffic and the constant whinning of Miss C everytime she sees a commercial with a new toy:

"Awww momma can you ask Santa for that???"

Her list has grown over the past few weekd and my pocket has shrunken.

Her latest accomplishments have been equally grand.

She managed to scratch off a piece of my skin from my arm yesterday while I was driving in a rage of fury.
She managed to scream at the top of her lungs in Denny's in front of all the patrons:


"I wish you would die and if you don't I will break your bones!!"

See, a killer in the making...maybe Tony Soprano could give her a part time...or something.

She has called me ugly every single chance she gets in front of everyone.

Her list of presents might just get shorter before the 25th.

The Christmases at home are still a "fun" family event.  I put up two Christmas Trees, managed to get into a fight with Vietnam, found out that one of the Three Kings is missing from the Nativity Scene and that we can't put any  lights outside because Isabela The Destroying Lab is out on a mission..."chew up EVERYTHING".

As for the rest I've been trying to spend as much time with my goddaughter, Kamila, squeezing her whenever her mom ain't looking and trying to catch up on all those cheesy Lifetime Christmas movies such as the Box Office Hit:


"Christmas with two Dad's"


::snicker::


We've managed to divide our dates as to who goes where on what days and I am just anxious for a couple of days of sleep...lots of it...with no little girl whispering in my ear, "you must make breakfast I am a very hungry person".


Yeah, well, I'm a very sleepy person.


And there ya' have it...classes are out this week until the 13th of January and I'll be stuck with a kid, The Holidays and TV Christmas movies....


I think I need some alchohol



Getting through

It is complicated.  That's all I'm gonna say.

We the human race are the only ones that can get everything we have dreamed of and then go turn around and not want any of it, anymore.

Because that is who we are.  Because that is in our nature.

I apologize for the vagueness.  But I feel right now as though I am the mother of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, the daughter of Virginia Wolf and Michael Meyers and the I am no where near the things I hoped I was.

It has been one of those rough couple of weeks.  But I am still here.  Longing for a solution.  Longing for something to anchor onto.

And trying desperately to be good.  If any such thing exists.

But I'll be ok.

Stoopid Pipel.

"Hello Miss C"

Miss C responds back without eye contact and makes her way up the stairs.

"Well that daughter of yours sure is proud, she just scooted upstairs barely acknowledging me", responded the old lady neighbor who once suggested I baptize my child to cure her Autism.

I responded the same way Miss C did, I ignored her ass and made my way upstairs.

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT FROM MY KID, A DISCUSSION ON THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS?

Catchup

I am still alive.  We are all still alive.  After a looong weekend, here in Puerto Rico, nothing much has changed.  We had a wild election weekend, a new elect governor from a different party and everything is back to normal.  The only thing I do love is that the Secretary of the Board of Education is gone come January...Thank God.

As for the Miss C, I've been out of the blogging world busy fighting for her rights and after a scream fest last week, some not so polite words, tears and a filed complaint, next Monday I meet with a Lawyer/Mediator to get things going.  Miss C has not had any formal therapy since May.  And her teachers dare wonder why she is so haywire???

I've also been busy working on this:

 
Which is on Sunday...all us gals are busy trying to iron out every single last detail.  I'm running the Information/Fundraising Commitee and getting all those tables and checks deposited was wild.  It still is.  I know Yoly is also equally busy, but in the end, we do it for our kids, our families and those who may come in the future struggling with Autism.
It's the least we can do.
As far as everything else...Obama is Pres and I couldn't be more excited!!! It seems like everybody's choice word was "Change".
I just hope this "change" is for the better...
I got my fingers crossed.

So, yesterday the School Book Fair began; which essentially is Nerd Heaven for Miss C and me.


Did I ever tell you we are book freaks??
Did I ever mention that Miss C, just like her mommy, has a HUGE collection of books and just can’t ever get enough?

Well anyhow, we spent the weekend looking over the little book fair pamphlet and had already made our order. So we decided to go in early to school to buy the books before the bell rang. We felt like we had died and went to heaven. The selection was awesome. Miss C immediately targeted her books: “Teacher’s Pet” and “Skippyjon Jones in Mummy Trouble”, but she also put her eyes on some book making kits and “I Spy” books. I on the other hand, quickly put my eyes on a Mo Williems book. I have always loved this award winning kids author but had never gotten around to actually buying some of his books and there in between Spongebob and Diego, was “Let me Drive the Bus!!”, one of his Pigeon Series books, for ONE DOLLAR!!!! ONE DOLLAR!!!

I immediately yanked it off the shelf.

After school, homework and some arts and crafts, we took our baths and settled in for some bed time reading. Of course, Miss C wanted urgently to read the Pigeon Book.

The Pigeon Series is about a stubborn as a mule Pigeon who wants to kind of always get his way and on top of all that has a real bad attitude when he can’t.  Williems books all have funny little quirky caracters intended to teach you a lesson.

I think we might share the same last name.

This particular book is about him wanting to drive the bus. The bus driver instructs the reader, that no matter what the Pigeon tells you, you should not let him drive the bus. The Pigeon of course, waits till the driver leaves and starts badgering the reader to be allowed to drive the bus…he stammers, he begs, he even bribes the reader with five bucks. In the end, he gets to upset, so mad, he throws himself on the floor, eyes bulging and red and screams at the top of his lungs: “LET ME DRIVE THE BUS!!”.

Now he's Autistic too.

Miss C was rolling on the bed. She thought he was hilarious. I, of course, explained to her that his actions were no good and that when an adult said you can’t do something you should obey this. Because after all, Pigeons, like children, cannot drive buses. She agreed. And all was well.

The next morning she asked for more money for more books. Addict in the most horrible way. I told her my funds on books were short, so she suggested she take the money out of her piggy bank, to which I agreed. But I explained to her, that she should purchase her book at recess and not open it during class. She agreed.

We got to school, late, as usual, and as I walked her up the stairs and passed the library (where the Book Fair) is being held, she yelled out: “Hey, my book, I wanna get my book”.

“Did you forget what we agreed on?”
“But, But, But, oh momma, oh please…please”.

Great. My very own Pigeon.
Art imitating life.

She screamed, she told me I was mean, bad, she stammered into class.
I put my foot down and in front of the class and teacher I laid the rules, “You don’t behave, there will be no more purchasing of books, you hear me?”

Now when did you ever think that taking away books would be a punishment??

She simmered down…pouted and sent me on my way. I gave instructions for no books if this carried on throughout the day.

And as I walked away to my car, I couldn’t help but laugh, almost out loud. Because even though this Pigeon is from Brooklyn, in every town, on every island, deep down inside I think, from time to time, we too, wanna drive the bus.


What bus do you wanna drive?

Priorities

There was a last minute super secret meeting conjured up yesterday at 7pm at Miss C's school. I have never once been asked to go to a school meeting at night on a school night but I guess they had some urgency. I of course, with many things on my plate, decided I'd do what any responsable mother would do: PRIORITIZE

 
And of course, beating out evil plush toys with super girl, her bionic arms and my KAPLAOWEE construction paper cuffs, was FAR MORE IMPORTANT. 

Friends

She met me through the Internet. We exchanged numbers and quickly sparked a friendship. She'd write to me a few times in the day or call and we would talk about anything she'd like. She was near my age, close to my area and also happened to have Aspergers.

Aspergers

She was desperate to meet me and when the chance arrived that her parents could take her to the church I attend this Sunday she was estatic.

She had mentioned how happy she was and how grateful she was to have connected with me, Yoly and some other gals.

I was happy I could make a difference.

Her parents dropped her off, but not without before meeting me and leaving reassured that we would make her feel right at home. I had given a previous heads up to my congregation and everyone was genuinely excited.

She arrived with a letter, chocolates and a small gift. I was deeply touched. During the service she clapped, sang and held my hand...we also shared a few hugs along the way.

At some point in the service the Pastor asked if anyone needed prayer for any condition or sickness. I told her I would be right back, since I wanted prayer for Miss C, since she had been battling a horrible cough/allergy and fever the night before.

As I was standing, I felt someone besides me. It was her. I asked if she was allright to which she nodded. I asked if she had stood up for prayer and she nodded. After they prayed for Miss C, the Pastor's prayed for her. She began to cry...they told her how special she was, not special because of her condition, special because God had made her and God doesn't make unspecial people. They spoke words of encouragement and of love. She cried and held onto my hand.

After everything was over, we went to eat. They had lunch at church yesterday and everyone was so nice to her. She was beaming with happiness. We spoke, we laughed, we had a great time.

I spoke to her parents and agreed to drop her off at a close mall, since they were there shopping. Her mom came up to me and I told her we had had a great time and that if they needed me for anything or if my new friend needed to give me a call, I was more than available. Her mom, started to cry, right there in the store. She told me with a huge smile how much this had meant to all of them. How much it had meant that we gals, all of us, had been so nice to her daughter and have decided to be her friends. We exchanged a huge hug...and everyone left smiling.

My day, year and month had been made.

Simply by being a friend.

Working Out

So...for those who follow sports, this weekend has proved to be my most favorite:

The Red Sux got eliminatd by Tampa Bay.

So if we didn't make it to the World Series, they aren't either.
Because I am selfish like that.

In other sports related news, Saturday I took Miss C to a new Sports League very near my house. It's a Special Education Sports League. Once a week they meet up at the park and excersise with a Adapted Phys. Ed. teacher and they rotate different sports for them to play.

I had told Miss C we were going to the park.
She was amused at first, but her amusement converted into total dismay once she realized that the 'park' she thought she was going to was actually a mini boot camp.

They made them jog in place, excersise all parts of their body and jog/walk around the park twice.

We quit after the first lap, since Miss C kept screaming: "This isn't the park!! My bones hurt!!!"

Well, for the first time in my Mommy life, I totally agree. We waited it out and then they were taken to play soccer and baseball.

Miss C true to her genes, connected a hit and tried to run the bases, problem was, that so were the rest of the players and no one had any idea where to go.

Funny and delightful. And above all: FREE.

So we'll see if next week she has got the right stuff and can join some team...(I'm secretly hoping it's baseball).

In the meantime we'll enjoy these nice mornings with the rest of the special kids and have a dandy time...even if it means sweatin' in parts I never knew I had.

Never saw it coming

So I’ve been missing in action.

I guess I have.

This weekend was the most wasted weekend in my life. What started as a laid back weekend, with a nice quick dinner and movie night, ended up in hell.

Attitudes clashed, feelings were hurt and on Saturday I made my way back home, alone. No True in tow.

On Sunday the battle for whohastheworseattitude continued and in an unprecedented move, unexpected by anyone, I broke up with him.

Like that, over the phone, done, kaput.

Two years down the drain.

I was tired, he was tired. Both unhappy. Neither willing to settle down. Me tired of having to sound all the time like the crazy psycho girlfriend who just pulls things out of her ass, True tired of being the laid back boyfriend taking it all in.

Failure to communicate.

The week began with the uncomfortable task of giving back things that lingered in each other’s houses…books, cd’s, etc.

Uncomfortable text messages, messenger chats…because that’s how messed up we are. We cannot carry on a decent conversation on the phone or in person.

I spent the week at Empress, cuddling my niece, relaxed. I wasn’t upset one bit, no tears, no nothing. I have no idea what that lack of feeling means.

He then sparked up my anger by removing his ‘engaged’ status on the ever so public facebook, ignoring my previous plea of being discreet and not making this a public announcement.

He went from “engaged” to “single” to “it’s complicated”. I went to no status at all.

I dodged questions from fellow facebook friends. My status is no longer for public consumption, even if I ever get back with True again or any one else.

We’ve spoken this week, even had lunch. Civilized. Shared some nice things.

I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know if we stand at all. And I don’t think I even care to know. Things are as he best described: complicated.

And my main focus is trying to get myself back, catch up on some good books and major aunt and niece bonding…everything else will just have to find it’s way back if it can….when ever it can…if it will.

But I’m good.

One more

Meet the new female of the family...born on October 2nd to a very very proud Empress and an even prouder brand new aunt, I present you Kamila:

"Doctor I have brought in my pet Flamingo"
"Oh I see, now what seems to be the problem?"
"Well, it just can't stop jumping up and down..."

She then throws the plush toy in the up and up into the swirling ceiling fan, causing it to fly and land across the room with a thump.

"Well, it seems you no longer have a problem. It's dead".

****************

Why I can't play the patient:

"Doctor!!! Doctor!!!! My penguin is dying!!!! DO SOMETHING!!"


I then shake the poor Miss C out of her wits...blame it on General Hospital.

She gives me one stern look and says: "Lady, you are gonna have to calm down, really".

So, we're playing make belive. I'm a vet and she brings me her "pets" to be cured.

It's fun being the vet, because I can sit on my butt all afternoon and take lunch breaks.

She brings in her "hurt puppy".

I immediately took care of it and just as she was exiting my "office", she turned around to say goodbye and she let one rip right there...

She looked shocked.

I said what any respectable Vet would say:

"You better get back her and let me cure you too...and your underwear".

She giggled..."That's a good one, that's a good one".

"Taste this medicine...It tastes like cupcakes", Miss C said.

"Why thank you doctor...some medicine makers should take up on that flavor".

things that suck

So why have I not said anything about baseball?

Because right now it's been sucking for me....The Yankees didn't stand a chance and other New York team got pushed out...Right now I'm rooting for Chi Town...the Cubs to e exact...

And speaking of things that suck...

Mister Maker does.

And Miss C is obsessed.

He does all kinds of arts and crafts with things I do not have randomly lying around my house...or things that are way too messy to do without adult supervision...

The other days he did a spider, with cotton balls and q-tips...we were at Vader's...

Vader didn't have glue or paint, or cotton balls...

Miss C was devastated...

I'm dropping off an art kit at Vader's on Friday...

let her deal with that...

that's what grandma's are for.

out of the mouth of babes

I cried last night because Vietnam was busy being an a*hole.

Miss C immediately put her plan in play.

"Well, tomorrow it'll be your birthday and we're having a party with candles, cakes and presents, because grandfather is wrong and you are sad".

Aw kiddo.

crate diggin

There is nothing like spending a Sunday digging for records in an antique sale with your boyfriend, ending up with Barbara Streisand and Diana Ross and the Supremes...

Ah the smell of viynl and a swell guy.

Butt of the joke

So how was my weekend?

Well let's say that Friday we made our way to Vader's for our traditional UNO card tournament.

Every Friday, bro,his gal, my cousin, Vader and I get together to eat and play...every Friday there is a main target:

DESTROY ALL OPPONENTS.

The rule: THERE IS NO FAMILY.

Every Friday Vader always makes some hairbrained mistake like throwing random cards and ends up being the butt of the joke.

This Friday, Vader got her revenge.

Empress showed up with her husband since they had no electricity and joined in on the fun.

We started to play, have a great time, when....

::rumble rumble::

My stomach.

Good Lord, my stomach.
Hey, I know we've all had stomach issues, but stomach issues with these folks around, was a big hellanono, especially in a small apartment with one bathroom almost next to the UNO table.

There are no more words needed. Let's just say I spent most of the night NOT playing UNO, hearing my 'friends and family' have a jolly ol' time at my expense.

I don't think I have laughed so hard in a looong time.

In the end, it was a swell swell time. I had become the butt of the joke, literally. Vader's eyes sparkled with glee.

And to think that Kamila (my pronto niece) will have a swell bedtime story about the week before she was born...

Ah, the memories...

::cringe::

Talk is cheap




Sometimes we don't need any words to communicate...

like momma, like daughta...


These are my shoes...


The bottom pic are Miss C's Shoes...

Gal is well on her way...

The Ex Factor

Today happened what we all hate and fear in life.

No, I’m not talking about Election Day.

I’m talking about an encounter with your Ex.

Encountering an Ex can be the most uncomfortable experience in our adult lives.

And I’m talking about Ex’s in general.

Ex husband, ex boss, ex doctor, ex mother in law, ex cetera.

If this person is your ex it’s because he/she was someone in your past, and if he/she is your ex, it’s because something happened and this person is no longer in your life or your present.


I found myself doing a little grocery shopping (I should say a “lot” of grocery shopping because of the bill that left my account on empty) and just three cashiers away, in the 15 items or less register, there he was. The Ex.

I thanked God for those two extra cans of beans.

The Ex boyfriend from High School. My first real love.

The one who make my heart flutter. The cutest, most proper boy in school. The one all girls wanted in 10th grade and out of all the girls he could have, he got me, the tomboy straight out of hell. I ended up being the recipient of all the Sad Sam plush toys, the Mon Cheries and the visits to my house.

He was also the one who got his heart broken by me and later vice versa with a small comeback during our Senior Year. He was also the one that dated a younger girl during said year, making me wanna scratch her eyes out.

Yuck. High School was so dramatic.

After our graduation I had seen him a few times, nothing long, some light flirtation, but nothing serious. After that I had always dreamt of seeing him again. Once I bumped into his sisters and I was, let’s say, in not such a great shape. I had to redeem myself.

I dreamt of bumping into him with Miss C in my hands, very nicely mannered, dressed very cutely and my chunk of engagement ring on my finger, not to mention 10 pounds lighter.

Today was not that moment. Due to the bad weather I had opted for a horizontal striped shirt. Me, being the fashionista that I am, knew very well that horizontal stripes were a killer no-no. I had some faded jeans, boots, hair all messy and no make up at all. And over all things, I had left my ring at home.

It was the re encounter from hell.

And let me just add, I feel nothing for my ex, I had no intentions of anything, but I wanted to be seen and say “See what I’ve been up to?”

Don’t give me that look, deep down inside, or right on top you think just the same.

I looked at him from afar. I became falsely entertained by some chewing gum that promised brighter and cleaner teeth. I hid behind the magazines in the register line, looking like a bum. He was paused in time, looking just fresh out of high school. Mr. Burns and him must drink from the same tap water.

I observed him while he checked out his few items. I couldn’t see exactly what he bought; maybe if I did I would have had some insight of his new life.

He left. He didn’t see me or if he did, he pretended not to. If that was the case, thank the Heavens.

After that incident I hit up the house of a very almost ready to burst Empress for some comfort food. Lord knows I needed it.

He was shopping in my zone. That supermarket, that whole perimeter was now a danger zone.

Now I’ll have to do my hair.

Tonight I’ll sleep with my ring and I swear on my mother’s life that I’ll smear on some lipstick and even if it pours tomorrow I’ll get all fancied up because I got a good looking boyfriend, a nice kid and that I’ve got to show off.

r-e-s-p-e-c-t

She stood next to me, "Well how is she today?"

In that condescending voice that made me wanna hurt somebody.

Miss C had had a day straight out of hell the day before, again. It literally took two people to grab her by her arms and legs and drag her up to her classroom. She ripped my necklace, bit my arm and scratched at my face like a rabid cat. I decided it was in my best interest to pick her up instead of letting her get on the bus, and it was a good call, since when I got there, she was still rabid.

Her teachers are concerned; they need an emergency meeting with me. Fantastic. I’m all for it.

Flash forward to this morning again:

So, the Autism Program Director was waiting for my answer…

“She’s good, she’s happy”.

“You see, we are concerned. Something needs to be done”.

“I’m working on it. I’ve been all week hoping from office to office, trying to get her back on track, on Monday I’m seeing a specialist about some natural supplements”.

“I’m sorry, even though I do respect your opinion; I do think that Miss C is in need for something more serious”.
“Such as?”

“Well, you know that 90% of the children in the Autism Program at this school are medicated”.

90%!!!!!!!!!!!!! I thought.

“Well, I am her mother and I am looking out for her best interests. I will try to use all other options before medicating her. She doesn’t have any therapies lined up, since all her therapists have resigned due to lack of payment on the Department of Education’s behalf, she’s in a group with more children, it’s a hard time for all of us. Her behavior isn’t horrible every single day…it’s just very inconsistent”.

“Well, I believe you should see a neurologist about some meds”.

“First of all, her neurologist doesn’t believe she has anything to begin with, and now I have a crappy government medical insurance that is a bitch to get into any specialists”.

“Well, fact is, she is disrupting our class, and it’s intolerable at times. I know she has great potential but...”

“But she should be numbed out? Because your staff, that is supposed to know how to deal with these kids, can’t? I am not knocking out the possibility of meds, but for now you need to let me do what I’m doing, because believe me, I’m not sitting at home watching novellas. It is hard on us all and if I had a magic wand that would make it all go away I would, but I don’t. Have a little patience; because I know that once she gets her therapies started and some supplements going, things will change.”

She added: “Well I need you to work with us, we are using a little chart, and you can ask the teacher…”

I interrupted…

“A behavioral modification chart, with prizes? The same one I brought to school to use in Kinder that everyone loved?, the same one I used for toilet training almost 2 years ago?”

“Um, yes”

“I know the chart, I have three of them at home…”

Uncomfortable silence.

“Well then, if you need anything...”

“I know where to find you”.

She left.
The nerve.

I’m not the lazy sit on her ass mom. I’m out there, writing letters, calling/visiting offices, talking to specialists, teachers…with my limited time and income, I’m still doing what I need to do, so don’t tell me you prefer to have my kid medicated just because you don’t wanna deal with it. Our kids ain’t perfect and not everything is gonna run smoothly every single day.
My kid will get better and I’m taking all the credit.

And for once in my life, I’m gonna get churchy and over all diagnosis, over all suggestions and words of you folk (you ‘specialists’ at school), I’m putting the mother of diagnosis over it all, the diagnosis of my Lord, my God, our God, the one who put his son on the Cross not only so that we can be saved, but so that we can be healed.

So take that lady…and RESPECT the MOMMA!

Autism strikes again

So, today I had a little what I like to call hell on earth.

I had to take Miss C with me to my "medicaid" revision. Since I am still a part time unemployed person, I cannot afford medical insurance and has had to take what our crappy government can offer.

The office is located in a mall and Miss C saw some riding machines and asked if she could get on one, to which I mentioned that she could, if she was good.

So we went in, there was no one and they literally argued over who was going to take our case.

The lady who took our case,escorted us to the desk and started to punch in numbers.

Miss C started to punch in words.
"Can I get on the machine, can I get on the machine, can I get on the machine???"
She sat on the chair, got off the chair, leaned on the desk, banged on the chair.

The lady then looked over, "I'm sorry ma'am you qualify but your girl doesn't."

See, since I am divorced Miss C gets her own case and they consider her a millionaire due to her $300.00 in child support she gets every month.

I argued, I bitched...meanwhile Miss C was also whining and bitching...

"Well ma'am doesn't she take any medications we can write off here..."

and just when I was going to answer, Miss C slapped me.
She bitchslapped me so hard, she knocked down my sunglasses.

The lady was shocked, I was shocked. I wanted to kill her. But this was a public office, so I had to try not to.

"She doesn't take any meds, but now would be a good time."
The lady got up and went to talk to her supervisor to see what we could do.

"No machines for you at all and no Mister Maker".

Miss C started to scream, cry, kick the wall...you name it.
The lady came back with all the papers signed and approved and almost threw us out of the office.

In the lobby I grabbed Miss C by the arm and she scream, "You stop that behavior mother, no prize for you" and she kicked me. She kicked me.

I spanked her. In front of a crowd. And added: "There! now you respect me or I'll spank you again...and if anyone dares to call Social Services, then let them have her for a while!"

I managed to wrangle her in the car as I could but she continued her wrath from hell at school, kicking a girl's bookbag because she was too slow (she really was), clawing at another girl and grabbing a girl's hand because she wanted to high five Miss C.

Her teachers applauded me for my firmness.

But later today one of her teachers called. She was concerned. Join the club.
Miss C's behavior has deteriorated in the past few weeks, up to the point where her academics are being affected. She doesn't want to read, write or work. Her teacher says Miss C has great potential but this conduct is a major concern for her.

Lady, I just got bitchslapped and kicked.

She asked if I had considered the option of medication.
My heart sank.
I had worked for 4 long years, trying to avoid medications. Because well, I know Miss C can do it and well, I've seen what some meds can do to these kids. Although I know that in some cases, medication is a reasonable option. Just not in my case.

I thanked her and hung up.

She will flunk if she does not get better.

And I cannot keep getting slapped.

I drove to run some errands and Coldplay's song, The Scientist, came on...

"Nobody said it was easy, no one every said it would be so hard, let's take it back to the start".

If there was any start to begin with.

I hate you Autism.
I fucking hate you.

Thieves

“DO NOT TAKE ANY FOOD UNLESS YOU HAVE MY PERMISION. I DO NOT HAVE ANY MONEY TO FEED OTHER PEOPLE”.

That is what it’s come down to folks. I have my father or brother feeding off my fridge. They use my spare keys, walk inside and help themselves.

They help themselves to the humble items I have purchased with great sacrifice mainly for Miss C.

It’s not that I am a selfish bitch.

It’s that, that food that they are stealing isn’t even mine. It’s my daughter’s.

Thanks to them I am short of a bag of crackers and some soup she loves.

No one is guilty.

It seems the crackers and soup have eaten themselves.

Maybe I have mice.
Maybe it was the dog.

Maybe my dad is lying, since he had a smirk on his face and couldn’t stop chuckling while swearing on God that it wasn’t him.

While am I still here?

Because I pay cheap rent and for now I can’t possibly afford to live anywhere else.

So basically I’m screwed. I have taken back the spare keys and have given them to someone who I know will never steal from her family…Vader.

So there you have it…my dad steal food from his granddaughter…

Only in my home people, only in my home.

Being Rewarded

I was in the bank yesterday trying to change the two hundred dollar bills my boss gave me, because I don’t have enough problems already and now I’m carrying two Benjamins that can quickly get lost, and I came across a very interesting Employee Contest the bank was having.

Something about, if the employee gave you a nice big ol’ smile, you can award him/her with a smiley face.

Each teller had a sheet taped on the front of their station with all the smiley faces they were awarded. As you left the bank, an employee would ask you if the teller smiled at you and in return if he/her should be rewarded with a smiley face.

Miss C looked on in delight.

“Does that mean that they are being good?”

The people in the line chuckled.

“I guess it does”.

“So that means, her…(she pointed to one of the tellers) was REALLY good?”

The teller had about three sheets of paper filled with smileys.

“I guess it does”.

Then she pointed to another one. “I guess he is kind of bad”.

This teller, had only one sheet with about 6 smileys.

“Um…well, maybe he hasn’t been working long…”

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean, it’s hard enough trying to be friendly in this sick sad world, without having it complicated with numbers and clients who maybe asses themselves.

As my luck would have it, I got Mr.Few Smileys as my teller.

He had no smile, no sparkle in his eye, and he could give a rat’s ass about a sticker on his booth.

We shot passed the employee who was going to ask us about his performance, but Miss C beat me to the punchline…

“No stickers for him momma?? I guess he is bad”.


The employee quickly stuck her hand back in...no stickers for this lad...none at all.

Opening Up

The other days as I was getting in my car, after a long day of unfruitful government office appointments, I noticed something I had not seen in tons of years.

A “Morivivi” plant., which literally means “Die and Live”.

I remember when I was a kid and I came to Puerto Rico for my summer vacations, my cousins and I would constantly play with these plants. They were all over my grandmother’s yard.

The peculiarity of these plants is that with only one touch, they would close up, only to open back up later.

My cousins would trample on these poor things, almost torturing them.

I remember my amazement. I would, contrary to my cousins, delicately touch them with the tips of my fingers and squeal in delightment when I would visit them later on to see them open up again.

Sometimes I feel like a Morivivi, constantly being trampled on by feet that couldn’t care less; opening up to quickly be shut down again.

And I stared at the plant, with all those memories gushing in. For a moment I felt so compelled to touch it, for ol’ times sake, but I let it be.

Cuz, jeez, every once in a while, we all deserve to be open.

Heart

We were all affected by the events that went on today.

Indirectly and directly.

Indirectly like in the economic blow.

Directly such as myself who a year after the attacks had to watch with a freshly diagnosed child, a husband and deploy for 18 months.

Directly such as Gnightgirl who watched her son leave and moved her to start something as wonderful as Toys for Troops.

Exactly nine months after 9/11 Miss C was born, into a world that can be so diverse but hold so much hatred.

My heart goes to all the servicemen and their families.

God Bless.

Homework

Dear Teacher,

What makes you think I have pictures lying around of school supplies to paste in my daughter's notebook?

Weekend Recap

Let's see.
I'm on those days of the month, the Yankees are sucking and Miss C continues to wreak havoc.

Other than that, things are swell.

On Friday after having another hell of a week, I decided on an impulse to get my hair cut...it's hot, I am not hair friendly and I needed to have a change, since getting another tat is strictly out of my budget, for now.

This is how it turned out:


I think it turned out fairly well. No fuss, no headbands, no dying of heat...short, pratical. Me.

Other than that, things are pretty much at a standstill. True and I have a loooong weekend, full of ups and downs and everything in between.

When will things finally settle down? only God knows.

For now my immediate plans are getting a much needed nap and catching up on some Benjamin Bratt...I'm hooked on The Cleaner...

any shows u're hooked on?

That's if you have any spare time like this part time lazy mom?

Motherly Advice

The Devils...I mean children on the schoolbus where Miss C comes home on, are teasing her.

They are making her life a living hell.

She tells me they hit her, they pinch her and yesterday they mushed her face in.

I have tried calming her down and telling her that acting equally violent isn't the solution.

Yesterday the boys on the bus told me in a very teasing way..."she was pulling down her pants and showing us her underwear"....

I was upset. I cried. I am worried. I asked Miss C who taught her that and why she would do such a thing.

She cried.

No one had taught her.

Her answer was: "they bother me on the bus, these kids hit me and pinch me...they bother me".

I don't know if she thinks that pulling down her pants is a way of letting them have it...or if they are enticing her to do it...

Either way. It's worrying.

So I gave Miss C the best advice I could give her:

"Tomorrow when they hit you and bother you, you hit them back...you defend yourself if no one is around to do it for you. You hear?".

It's not something I would like to have told her but:

My kid ain't gonna be bullied.
By no one.

The cost of love

It's our 2 year anniversary.

Oh the joy.

I stood for what it seems like hours in the aisle for a card.

Very expensive cards.

When did love get so expensive?

If you get a 99 cents card that shows the cash register gal that you are a cheap girlfriend who couldn't give a shit and if you get a very expensive singing card, it proves you are a clingy clearly derranged girlfriend.

You can't win anyway, now can ya?

What card can sum up what I feel right now after two years, especially after these past few months of utter hell???

Oh this is a nice one:

"I love you and sometimes I want to hurt you".

I should consider writing for Hallmark.

Things haven't been the best in our relationship lately. Our engagment is kind of stuck in time and I don't have any real motivation to look into the whole wedding thing right now.

I still the love the man though.

And he's still by my side.

One of us is clearly sick.

We have no fancy plans, maybe a movie, food and hit the Gallery Festival tonight, without Miss C.

A grown up date.
We haven't had one in a while.

So what card did I pick?

An almost empty one. So that I can find the right words to tell him how I actually feel and not Hallmark.

Saved

"I love you saved Mom"
"Saved?"
"Yes, I saved you Mom".
"You saved me from..."

Kid sneezes on me and particles of things that should be blown into rags fly onto my face.

"Well whatever you saved me from, you just unsaved me".

11 to 3 tonight

No I don't wanna talk about it.
No I don't wanna.
I won't.

Ok?

Just shush...

Yeah...so what the Red Sox have kicked the Yankees ass for two days in a row in the last series they will play against each other EVER in the old stadium?

Big deal.

Fast Forward Part Deux

Speaking of moving in fast forward, never in a million years would I have thought I would be uttering the following sentence so soon:


"You cannot kiss boys, you cannot have a boyfriend, ANY boyfriend, is that clear??"

Miss C had misbehaved on the bus ride on the way home. By misbehave I mean the usual philandering like: hitting, pinching, unbuckling her seatbelt but now she added something new to shake things up a bit:

Trying to kiss a boy and screaming she wanted a "big" boyfriend.
I had to resist the urge to tell her: “Honey no you don’t, trust mommy on this one”

But instead, I spent the afternoon yelling at a 6 year old girl who cried so intensely about the boyfriend she wanted. It kind of broke your heart a bit. Where did she get these things from? Clearly not from her cold hearted love allergic mother. What was so important about a having a “big” boyfriend??? So I just had to ask:

“Why do you want a “big” boyfriend?”

“Because I want someone to call me. Nobody calls me; a big boyfriend would call me”


Honey, chances are, that either big or small, that isn’t’ going to happen either.

Fast Forward Part Uno

They have X mas lights for sale at Kmart.

In August.

And I couldn't find lighter fluid and charcoal for a barbeque this past weekend.  The staff at Kmart told us in a very matter-o-factly tone, that they had stored it all away.

What part of tropical island do these people not get?

Faith Genes

Maybe the Faith Gene is gone.
Maybe I used it all up.

Fact of the matter is, lately I kind of don't believe in much.

I mean, on an island where people decide that in their wake they should be viewed standing up, where can my Faith go.

Yesterday a lady in the bank politely asked a gentleman how he was doing and he quickly answered:

"My father is dead. He died this week. He was 95".

No, "thank you and you...? Oh by the way my dad died..."

Just flat out tragedy.

It's a wonder some people still believe in Ol' St. Nick.

I've been MIA from church for three weeks, for several reasons, valid or not. Underneath it all, I haven't missed anything.

I was feeling out of place. Doing empty things for no apparent reason.

There are dynamics of God that I don't fully understand yet, and no one, has given me an answer that can somewhat make sense.

I think too much.
That's True's theory.

Right now I'm on a different path.
And as much as I want things to be as they were, I don't think they will.

And this is going to stir up some problems.
Especially with True.
Because frankly, even if there is love between us, which there is, how much can that love make up for the fact that we want totally different things right now and are on totally different pages.

I can't support him on his endeavors, because frankly I care for none.
And I couldn't care less if he cared for mine.

I don't know if I'm going back to church and his Faith, his glorious, undying Faith, is too much for me to bare right now. I just don't get it most of the time.

I look back to a couple of months ago and I don't really know if I was truly happy.

I couldn't recognize myself in the mirror. I had lost all sense of identity.

I had stopped being me and became True's girlfriend.

And as nice as that sounds, I still prefer my first and last name.

So, right now it's all a puzzle, it's all a question mark and there are no answers from anywhere.

sucks

I left The Kid this morning at school with her assistant. I looked from behind a column and saw The Kid's frown, fighting with the assistant because she refuses to put her backpack where the other backpack's are. She says they will be stolen.

After a weekend filled with movie going (we went to see Space Chimps, in Spanish...as if weren't bad enough in the original English language), pool dipping and cuddling, it is damn hard putting that kid in the car and leaving her off at school.

damn.

It's on

So I had just about had it.
The new neighbors aka the new hooligans were driving me mad.

They are up very late during the week, smoking weed and their friends stop by with motorcycles starting all kinds of rawkus.

As if it weren’t enough with the Mariachi loving neighbor who now sells drugs and has befriended the hooligans.

It was 9:30, mariachi lover was playing up a storm, beating on congas, cheering like a Mexican, with his door wide open.

I kindly leaned out of my door.

“Um…you see that window, it’s my daughter’s window, do you mind listening to the music for yourself?? As in real low”.

He looked, shocked, almost appalled. But immediately went inside to lower the music.

Then the hooligans began their matinee.

Last week I quietly called the cops on them and that had simmered them down but last night it looked like an all-nighter.

At 10:30 I had had enough.

I went outside, walked straight up and said:

“You guys don’t work tomorrow, or go to school, well that’s all nice. I actually envy you, but some people on this block do and my kid has school tomorrow so I will appreciate you keep the volume down, real down”.

They agreed to do so and I went back in.

But an hour later they were at it again, laughing, cursing, revving up their bikes…

Aw, hell to the no. Not on my block.

I headed downstairs again, this time not so diplomatic.

“Shut up!! You need to shut up…are you deaf?? Did I not just tell you guys to keep it down???!! There will not be a third warning, I will call the police, so shut up”.

They were stunned, they apologized and headed inside.

I’m tired of this crap, tired of no one on my block doing nothing because they fear these 15 year old punks.

I’m organizing some sort of committee and I’m taking my street back.

comfort zone

Nothing much to report on my side of the tracks besides the fact that I am hooked on the Olympics, finally decided to peg my jeans and where them like Katie Holmes and desperately need more sleep.

How can I manage more sleep into my life when I am already sleeping at 8pm????
I'll probably hire a driver.

::snicker::

Miss C has been doing fab.  Screaming and slapping children around before the bell goes off, you know the typical children behavior.

It's hard watching her do this while the 'other' parents stare at you in bewilderment.
"Other" as in the perfect parents with the perfect kids.
Needless to say, I am NOT the most popular parent in the bunch.

That's why when the parents met up today to discuss the extreme heat and the broken down A/C, I was the first one to pitch in $5.00 to get a fan while the quote on the A/C repair is ready.

Anything to fit in a little bit more.

Maybe I should stop wearing my "it's funny how you think I care" shirt to school.

I'll ponder that.

Meanwhile, I've decided to stop job searching for now.
I've decided to try to make the most of my time and wash and clean and cook and enjoy my kid in the afternoons, without all the traffic and all the rush.  Eat, bathe and be in bed by 8pm.

Because I am an old fart.

There I said it.

how are things on your side of the monitor?

My Way

Maybe Sinatra had it all wrong when he said he had few regrets about doing things "My Way".

Maybe he was a man with lots of guts and very ballsy.

Maybe at night when he was all alone for doing everything his way he drank his night away with a nice bottle of Merlot.

Maybe he just sat and watched the Olympics in Beijing.

Either way...maybe ol' blue eyes had it all wrong.

...Minus

After a weekend of tears, adjustments, a baby shower for my best friend (Empress),a fish that nearly died (now he's an official Puerto Rican Nemo, a special needs fish with a small fin) and lots of 4/5 letter words that I am NOT going to repeat because I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about them, I put Miss C to bed and sat down to see some of the Olympic games...

After the gymnastics I decided to call it a night.  My brain had been engulfed in too much thinking at I needed to put it to rest.

I turned the night light on, and as I tried to find a pair of underwear that would not cut off my circulation, because let's face it, my thighs and ass aren't getting any smaller, Miss C was stirred. 

Her big wide eyes open and alert.


"Go back to sleep". 
She turned around and shut her eyes.
I turned off the light.

And as I made my way to bed, she called out for me...

"Mommy...!! Mommy!!"
Which is odd because she usually calls me "momma".

I lay beside her.

"Mommy??"
"Yes" I answered, trying to survive the stench of her dragon breath.  I love her to death, but the smell of that, is a no go.

"I love you mommy".

She hugged me and 15 seconds later, she was snoring.

And then there were two.

Back to Hell-the sequel

So here's the update for those interested.

My kid had a shitty day.
She cried all day long and longed for her momma to be with her.

They changed her bus driver, to a MAN, a MAN I do not know.

Alone in a bus with a man.

and with his tone of voice and eagerness (insert sarcasm here)

there is no chance in hell.

I picked her up. She was sweaty and teary. She was sitting in her old classroom.

Poor kid.

Today she clung onto me for dear life as we stood waiting for the bell.
She wheeled off with a pout.

I hope things go better for all of us.

Back to School


It's that time of year again: Back to Hell. I mean, err, school.

Here's my list of things I hate about back to school:

1. Traffic
2. School material lists: notebooks, crayons, mops, brooms, toilet paper, microwaves...(ok...they haven't officially asked for a microwave, but I can smell it coming.
3. Stupid ludicrous homework assignments, like take a 4 hour drive to interview the mayor of some small town, his wife and Nana.

yeah, that bad.

So anyways, after a hearty breakfast and a goodnight sleep, we hit the hay at 8pm, we made our way to school.
Lucky for us traffic was light and we got there early.
We met the new teachers and headed out to wait outside in the hall for the bell to ring.

After some much mingling in the halls, we realized Miss C's old classmates, specifically her best buddies, were not going to her same classroom. She was stuck in classroom with Bratz-Disney-Princesses loving girls.

Not really her crowd.

After a while of waiting, the inevitable came. Miss C got restless. It was hot, she was standing, she was eager to go to school. Hope that enthusiasm stays until College.

She starts to whine.

8:20 first bell rings.

Her principle comes out, mic in hand, which is bad sign since she is a ham for the stage.

She starts talking, except you can't hear anything because her voice is lost in the open space. It was something about school rules, buses, a meeting, etc.

8:30 second bell rings.

The flags come out, they sing the Anthems.

8:35 The principle decides to break out into a little song and dance routine.

Miss C decides to join her in her own version of the song: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah I wanna go to the class...Waahh make her shut up".

She is sweaty, crying, her hair is a mess and I can feel sweat rolling down my back.
I wanted to grab Barbara Streisand and beat her to a pulp.

At 8:40 she shut up.

We had been in school since 7:30am.

Miss C dragged her book bag with 9 notebooks and several sanitary products (I hate germs) to her class.

I stood there and watched.

In fear. At 12 pm all the kids are let out to the yard for a full hour of mayhem.

With no direct supervision.
A mom I know volunteered to keep an eye out on Miss C.
I still wasn't so reassured.

Her Phys. Ed teacher yelled out: "Hey this isn't an airport, she's going to a classroom, not boarding a plane".

Everyone in that school outta be on Leno.

I left praying that all will turn out fine.
So that's it.

I guess I'm gonna turn into one of those moms, the ones that spend their day on the school premises talking about gossip...instead I'll talk about baseball.

MLB

Holy Cow, Pudge has been traded to the Yankees to fill the void left by Posada.

And Manny clearly wants out of Boston!!!

October just got a little more intriguing!

Misdemeanor

"If I EVER catch you stealing again, I will call the police and they will lock you up in jail FOREVER...no, wait, I'll do something worse, I will cut off your hand like they do in Western (Eastern?? I have no clue) Hemisphere".

"I don't wanna go to Jail, I wanna be free, I want to eat and play and I want my hand!!!"

"There will be NO CARTOONS today and I WILL CALL THE POLICE IF YOU EVER STEAL AGAIN!! YOU GOT THAT??!!"

She sobbed....she hugged me...she got serious..."I understand".

That was what went down yesterday. Miss C stole a spool of thread from a store we were in. The problem was not only that she stole, it was that she lied about it, hence making it very clear to me that she knew what she was doing.

I swear if she had been caught I would have clearly pleaded Autism in order to avoid a complete nervous breakdown.

I told Vader that I was planning to take her back to the store and hand a handwritten apology to the manager and apologize in public.

Vader thought I was being too hardcore.

Yeah, but that's how they start. Yesteray was a spool of thread, next week she'll steal a car.

They start young ya' know.

Holy War

He was there again this morning.

He approached my car and I rolled down my window for some fun.

He gave me the flyer, still holding on to the other side.

"Will you spare some..."
I didn't let him finish.
"I don't have any change".

He started to pull the flyer back..."when do you think you'll have some??? tomorrow?"

In the most patronizing voice.
If I EVER wanted to hurt a Senior Citizen, Lord Help Me, now was the moment.

I snatched the flyer back and rolled up my window.

It's on.

Tourists

When I was a child and I visited Puerto Rico (every year) Vietnam would never ever miss the opportunity to take me to Old San Juan in the Ferry that left out of Cataño.  It was just me and him, before my brother was born, before my parents totally hated each other's guts.  Although I do remember once Vader slapped the shit out of me because Vietnam was leaving and I left with him to Old San Juan.

Anyways.

After almost going totally crazy on Friday, all day at home with nothing to do, I decided to plan an "Adventure" with Miss C.  An adventure with no cars, no guys; just two gals and feet.

So we left our car in Cataño and made our way to the ferry terminal.
After paying an exaggerated amount of $.75 cents for BOTH of us....(I have no idea why more parents don't do this with their kids instead of the HUGE amusement parks), we got on the ferry.

Miss C couldn't have been more happier.  It was an adventure, on a "Boat".

10 minutes later we were in the great "Walled City" aka Old San Juan.

We didn't have any real plans, just two gals posing as Tourists.

Our first stop: The Pigeon Park.
A beautiful area full of pigeons, where you can buy a bag full of corn for a dollar and sit and feed the birds.

I don't need to say how much the Kid got a kick out of the birds, although she was upset that the pigeons wouldn't eat out of her hands, like they ate out of mine.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that I wasn't shoving my hand up their eyeballs with corn.
Maybe.

After the Pigeon Park, we made our way up to the Plaza de Armas, where we had a light $5.67 lunch at Wendy's.

After lunch we made our way uphill to explore the differents shops, sights and visited the "Museo del Niño", Children's Museum, full of all kinds of sights and wonders: Dress Up area, Science Area with live dengue carrying Mosquitoes, Huge Ears and Organs you can touch and explore, a nice Recycled Craft area and a recreation of a Plaza in San Juan, with a miniature store and Piragua Cart.

That cost me $12.00 for both of us.

After that we decided to go to the Totem, where a fountain jolts water from the ground and tons of children go to get wet and cool off.  We didnt' get wet, but we did cool off with a Real Piragua for $2.00.

Our last stop, El Morro, The Old Spanish Fort.

Entrance: Free up until 16 years old, everybody else :$3.00.

We explored every nook and cranny, played "Hide and Go Seek" and decided that finally at 4:00pm (we had been in San Juan since 11:30am) we were pooped.

We headed back down, not without stopping at the bookstores to look at books for the Kid and having a hot dog before getting back on the Ferry.

Once back in the Car we were going to head out to the thrift store, but our legs were pooped.
We called it an afternoon.

Total tab for the afternoon:  $29.17

I'm sure it could have been equally special and cheaper, minus maybe the Fort or the Museum, but it goes to show that you don't have to go far to give your children a special day.  In the end, as we sat on the Ferry and I saw her eyes shine with delight and curiosity, I couldn't help think if my face was equally delighted with Vietnam, almost 15 years ago.

And no matter how bad we have it now, I treasure those moments with 'Nam, and I'm sure Miss C will treasure ours.

Runs in the Fam

"I don't have a cat!!!!" 

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaawhaaaaaaaawhaaaaaaaaaboooohoooohoooooo
Shriek shriek shriek


"I don't have a cat!!"

Miss C was upset because Vader's new kitty ran for dear life when Miss C arrived.

Elmyra anyone?

She bangs on the table, she cries, she screams.  She draws broken hearts and little girls with tears.

"You don't love me anymore!! You have left me broken hearted!!"

and just before I could open my  mouth and say something wicked, Vader beat me to the punchline...

"...then get a heart transplant kid..."

You know what they say: The fruit NEVER falls far from the tree.

World Vision

So there he was AGAIN.

The little old man who gives away leaflets of God near the intersection.

He's dressed very sharp and looks very sweet.

He approaches my car and I roll down my window. I grab onto the leaflet.

"Would you care to make a donation for a child we sponsor?" He points to a World Vision flyer he has in his shirt pocket.

"Um, I gave you a donation on Monday for your little dominican boy".

He started to snatch the flyer back.

"Well this little boy doesn't only eat on Mondays, he eats everyday and bathes every day!".

I looked in shock.

I snatched the flyer back and rolled my window up.


WTF???????????

You have no can with no picture on it, no ID, just some flyers and you were gonna snatch away the Word of God because I couldn't spare some change this morning.

Get out of the intersection tomorrow, if ya know what's good for ya.

Savage

This is what Mr. Savage (appropiate last name by the way) said about Autistic Children.

While my kid has now entered a little bit of Brat Territory, I can tell very well, when it's pure "I wanna drive my mom up a wall" or "My brain can't grasp certain things".

He is nothing short of an Ass and it is very clear everyone in his home is healthy and well, may he never have to go through what we go through.

Retarded People

I just had to put this in a separate post.

Sunday when we arrived at the beach, there was a little girl playing on the sand, I think she was maybe around 7 or 8. Very cute and pretty.

Her grandmother was watching from the shore, while catching up on some reading.

She asked if her granddaughter could play with Miss C since "she loved playing with smaller girls".

I of course said yes.

As a mom of a child with learning disabilities I immediately noticed something was quite not right with the girl. She reminded me soooo much of Miss C. But it wasn't something any regular eye could notice.

After a while I went in the water with them and played a bit, pretending we were all sorts of fish and water creatures, they both laughed and giggled.

Then we sat on the shore a bit.

Her other grandmother came and said: "Get in the water a little while, you shouldn't be taking in all that sun".

I quickly offered some of Miss C's sunblock.

Her grandmother turned to me with a smile and said:

"Oh no thank you.", she leaned in and continued, "She is a little retarded girl and I have to continuosly tell her to get in the water or she'll burn to death".

She said it so casually, so non-chalant.


I was speechless. I, who would usually say something back, was speechless.


I was disgusted. How can she refer to her like that with such disdain with such, yuck.
First of all, the girl showed no signs of being retarded.


She was a bit shy at first, but she engaged in converstation, she asked me if I was Miss C's mom, what grade was she in, she told me she was in a special classroom, she wanted to be a dolphin when we played in the water...that does not seem retarded to me.


Her grandmother left and her sister (a teen about 16) came over to watch over her.


We went in the water and played some more. Her sister watched and smiled at me. And laughed when she saw us playing in the water and playing with her sister. Something about her smile told me she was happy, that maybe for once, her little sister was being treated like what she was: a child.



Weekend Recap

So there was a little bit of everything this weekend: sun, sand, food, lots of driving and poop.

Yeah. Shit always happens.

We were supposed to pull out at 6am for our 3 hour drive to Boqueron, but you know my brother and we ended up pulling out at 8am.  True had already went ahead since he got tired of waiting.

So, Bro, the girlfriend, me and the Kid made our way behind.

About 1 hour and a half into our drive, Miss C began to cry that she had to go "pipi".  I was like, "again?? didn't we just go pipi?"

So I proceeded to ignore her, only that she began to cry harder that it hurt.

"Are you sure it's pipi?"
"Yeah"

Ok, so we stopped because we were in the middle of no where.  Bro's gal gave me a cup so Miss C could take a whizz.

Only that, it wasn't a whizz.  It was a little, excuse my french, "Fart with a prize".

I am only going to say she pooped my fingers then stepped on her own poop and there wasn't any water or napkins or nothing to wipe myself off.  There was only enough to get her clean.

It was the longest next 2 hours ever.

I had no option but to laugh.
I think we laughed for the next hour and Miss C, was humiliated.

She begged us to stop laughing at her.
Well, that is a good sign, she gets she is the butt of the joke.

And I just finished humiliating her, here.
What are mothers for, right?

Well, after that, which couldn't be topped off with anything else, we finally caught up to True and switched cars.

We made it to Boqueron around 11am and after leaving our stuff at the house we hit the beach for a nice afternoon.

We had regular beach food, burgers and hot dogs and played UNO (our latest addiction).

When the night came round, we made our way to the town for a little pool and even True's father showed to hang out.

I nearly froze to death with the A/C in the rooms and at 9am the next morning we hit the beach again.

We finally made our way back home yesterday around 8pm to some nice Krispy Kreme donuts and Extreme Home Makeover.

It was a nice weekend overall, and a much needed one.  But now it's back to the City. Alas, not all is eternal.

Everyone can't be happy

Having parents separted/divorced on bad terms is horrible.  It's like you have to literally tear yourself in two to make everyone happy; throw in some marvelous in laws and now you're totally screwed for Holidays.

Me and Vader have had a very shaky relationship every since we moved to Puerto Rico when I was 15. She was once my Best Friend and then she turned into something unrecognizable, heck, she turned into Vader.

Me and Vietnam, well we've never had a relationship.  We try to kill each other each second we get.  He's been a bit nicer since Miss C was born and I got divorced and after his stick up on Friday we've been very civil.

Vader's family is awesome.  I have always loved hanging out with them more.  Even though they are more on the humble side, I prefered them a thousand times over the luxury of Vietnam's family.

Nam's family always had a way of making me and my mom feel thirdworld women, degrading us, making us feel very inferior.  Always making comments on how much they spent on this and that, how much they have and how much we don't.

After Miss C the conversations were about how bad the little kid had it and how it must suck that I could no longer follow my dreams.

I banned them from my life.  I ocassionally visit my Grandmother who lives like 3 minutes away 2 every six months.

So, Vader and the fam are going out West this weekend. They rented a pad out near the beach (they do it every year) and have invited me, True and the Kid.  Bro and V are going as well.  I quickly said "Yes".  I needed to get the hell out of the Metro Area and for free, "Hell Yes".

So we are staying one night and now Nam is upset.
He invited me out East next weekend to my Uncle's vacation spot.

Puritan Uncle who I have not seen in years.
I don't go freeload on people I don't co-relate with.

Especially those folks.
And Sunday, (the day Nam wants to go), True is going to Minister for the First time in church and we can't miss it!!
So I suggest Saturday, Nam has errands to run.
Nam suggests Friday, I am not going Friday without any back up for Miss C while I drive or while I'm there.

I did that once for Nam's company party and I am not doing it again. (I'm sure there is a post around that somewhere, but I am just too lazy to find it)

So now Nam is upset, says I don't wanna hangout with him, when I have invited him numerous times to the beach, shopping, park, and he says "no" because he really needs to rake the leaves out back or wash some socks.

So that's my dilema.

How do I plan to solve it? I wrote him a letter. Because words with him are impossible.

But at the end of the day I hang out with whom I want and if some people don't like it, well, then too bad.

Have a good one folks!!

Your opinion doesn't count

I barely talk about Miss C's problems, ok maybe I do a tad bit more, but I don't talk about it because well, I really have no idea.

Thing is today she had a medical evaluation, the typical back to school crap.

With a new doctor.
With a new government medical insurance doctor.

I hate these doctors.

That's why I had private insurance because I cannot tolerate these people.

Today was nothing different.

This was our 5th visit or trial visit. Everytime we went, they'd send us home because they were too full. I have a card that boasts the office hours from 8am-5pm and at 11am they attend no more patients.

Well then don't false advertise.

Anyway we went at 7am, take that you sicko's!!

They wanted her Social Security Card. I declined. You can't have it. It's against the law, due to identity theft, to ask or use my card or her card for any identification purposes, that is why she has an INSURANCE CARD.

After several odd looks, they obliged.

We made the #2 slot. They sent us in quickly.

After a few quick questions and revisions of her paperwork, the doctor quickly remarked:

"This child was misdiagnosed. She was never AUTISTIC."


WHAT??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!! YOU DON'T SAY!!!


"I'm so sorry Doctor, I do appreciate your expertise, but she was diagnosed correctly".


"What are you trying to say?? That she is cured. NO ONE IS CURED FROM AUTISM".
She's a real bright one ain't she.

"I understand that, but she is recovering. You didn't see my child when she was at her all time Autistic high. Headbanging, handflapping, tiptoeing, screaming, no talking, obsessed, ritualed child. I KNOW. I lived through all of that. That my hard work paid off, that my sweat and tears and money made some of it go away, well that's a whole different story."

She sat in silence.

She then questioned as to why my child has not received Physical or Visual evaluations.

"Do you have any idea of how the Department of Education works?"


"Well, if you ask for these evaluations they will give them to you".

"Yeah, real soon, I got the Physical Evaluation 2 years after I originally asked for it and I fought for it too. I am not your average mom".


"Well, some parents don't work hard enough. There are organizations and lawyers who can help. It is a shame so much money (public funding) is not used because parents do not fight for it".

I sat flabbergasted.

What was this imbecil telling me??? That I wasn't doing my part. That I have been sitting on my ass for 4 years, waiting for it all to come to me????

"Well, Doctor, I disagree. Some of us, do work. But the problem isn't us, it's our government and the damn burocracy in which things are run".

She finally shut up and did her work.

She found a throat infection, was quick to prescribe antibiotics (which I will not give to her) and said:

"Well her not being Autistic should be a thrill to you!! You should be happy she doesn't comply with any of the traits".

"Yeah, well she still needs helps and just because she has gotten so much better doesn't mean it didn't exist".

I left.

Disgusted.

How dare she tell me that none of our lives ever happened. That I was a paranoid mother. That I did not cry for several years not knowing what would happen to my daughter. How dare her suggest that doctors didn't know what they were doing? Doctors not paid by the government, private doctors paid out of my pocket!!! And not to be stuck up, but the best doctors I could get!!!

How dare you be a Doctor and yet be so completely ignorant!

You should have your licensed revoked and you should dedicate the rest of your life to rocks.

Weekend Recap

After a very scary Friday, we managed to get our stuff together and have a nice weekend.

I hit the beach on Saturday with Miss C and then church on sunday.

Enjoy some pics !!

Father

Friday Vietnam was robbed at gunpoint. The intention was to grab him coming out of the house but since he went out a little earlier the man got him at the bus stop.  The man put a gun to his head and took his cash, his bracelet and his Senior Year Graduation Ring (1974).  The man then hit him and took him to the ground, told him he was going to kill him right then and there. The bus that usually picks up Vietnam stopped as usual, full of passengers, saw Nam' on the floor, pleading for help and no one did anything.  They drove off.  They didn't even honk the horn or scream or call the cops. They just left him there to die. He didn't die though. The delincuent ran off. Nam', for the first time in a long time cried.  He said he thought of us, of his granddaughter, of life. Police were notified, he went off to work.  He couldn't bare stay at home alone, waiting for me. I took him to get a new phone, almost killed the lady behind the counter when she wanted to charge us $107 for a new phone, when he has insurance. The man almost got his brains blown off, show some sympathy. I managed to get him a new phone free of charge. I made dinner for him and took him to the Precint to look at mug shots. He made dinner for me on Sunday. Yesterday I watched the Home Run Derby with him (by the way Hamilton rocked with 28 runs). We had quite a scare, but I guess in some sick sense, it has made Vietnam a lil' bit nicer, a little bit more like a dad.

what's love got to do with it

This morning he asked me if I still loved him.

"What kind of question is that?"

"An honest to God Question".

Well, there's my shot of caffeine this morning.

Love has nothing to do with it.
We are just on two major different pages in our lives right now.

I just want to have my car back and start seeing what I'm gonna do about my job situation.
I just don't want people to keep looking at me with sad puppy dog eyes and go "it's gonna be allright".

At times I feel I can't properly explode. That I am forced to pretend I am completely happy in order not to piss off those who are genuinely happy.

I am pissy, snarky, sarcastic and pretty much don't care about anything right now.
I've shut off the radio and prefer to lay down on the floor with Miss C and color.

I have in my own way become Autistic.
Ignoring all social cues that my behavior is not at all acceptable.

That it is not right to have a full blown tantrum because my refrigerator broke down or I misplaced my keys, or that my car, freshly out of the garage, might need a new battery, which I have replaced in the past year.

It is much more acceptable to just shrug it all off and go "aww fuey" and put on a happy face.

That is the reason so many people are hanging themselves with belts in their closets.

I'm not saying I am gonna do the proper. I am just saying a gal needs to vent, without judgement without fear that everyone is going to be upset that I am upset.

It has nothing to do with love, but rather with the fact that I am bored out of my wits with my routine of no money, no full time job and the heat.

With the car that won't hurry up and get better, with the fact that I couldn't go to Yankees Stadium this year, with all the things on my to do list which are still pending.

I don't think I have been this occupied yet this bored in my life with mundane activities.

And I'm not asking for slack. I am just asking to let me be.

Until I can find a way out.

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