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".
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.
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....
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...
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.
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”.
“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…”
“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?”
“I know the chart, I have three of them at home…”
“Well then, if you need anything...”
“I know where to find you”.
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!
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
What makes you think I have pictures lying around of school supplies to paste in my daughter's notebook?
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:
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?
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.
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.
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.
"I love you saved Mom"
"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".