Surf's Up!!!

April is Autism Awareness Month.

For all those who don't know, Autism has been a major part of my life since August of 2004, when my only kid was diagnosed.

Since then I joined Alianza de Autismo de Puerto Rico and been trying to spread some education of this devastating condition that affects 1 out of 150 births.

This weekend we had a very, very, VERY special event.

We had our first Surf Camp with Sufer's Healing

I cannot tell you how special this event was.

This organization along with local surfers from the Puerto Rican Federal Sufers Organization.

They took our kids, deep, really deep and had them catching waves all day long...

My boss lent me her surf house and we had an awesome weekend.

I have to admit that I almost cried when I saw Miss C on the board.  Miss C conquering the waves, conquering her fears...

in the future, she will know all the other things she has conquered!!!!

Out of the mouth of Miss C

"Woooohoooo....on Thursday the 12th I'm on vacation".


"Vacation?? I didn't see a note in your notebook"

"Moooom", she then rolls her eyes in display of her lack of patient with me..."it's godmom's birthday, there is no school and no work.  It's a national holiday".

"You wish and so does your God Mom, the only lucky bastard for life is your uncle who was born on Veteran's Day, you have school tomorrow".


"Awww man...I've failed again", she answered

"But hey, can I ask you a question?  Is my birthday a Holiday?", I stupidly ask.

She pauses and thinks too much for my taste.

"No, your's is on a Saturday".

That's what I get after 9 months in waiting and a having a child ripped out of my midsection: an announcement that the day I was born ain't so special in her books.

Ain't kids grand?

Common Denominator

Have I ever told ya' the one about how relationships are complicated? and mind you I said "relationships" and not "love", because technically "Love" is easy. Just like Hate. It's there. It happens.

But relationships, in all the different genres are complicated and at times, nasty, hard, hurtful and harder to maintain than a salt watered fish tank.

Miss C obviously has a problem with relationships as well. Especially daugther-mother ones, where the mother figure is in charge. She seemingly believes it's rubbish and thinks that telling me to shut up in front of a crowd of people is terrifically swell. That is, until I find it terrifically well to take her outside and giver her a piece of my mind.

Yeah, because it's complicated.
Then she drives off in the night with her Dad, my X, who is here on an emergency trip and I'm left alone in bed. Missing her.

Did I mention complicated?

Vader is another complicated subject. I love her. See that was simple to state, but it's complicated tip toeing around her wrong doings and not wanting to shake her a little when she doesn't pick up her phone (cause she's out frolikcing) yet has the balls to write me up on my parenting skills.

Vietnam has gotten better. We no longer throw things at each other. Just the other days I felt even, dare I say, "special" when he invited me to NYC next week, offering to pay my ticket. Only to later find out he offered a ticket to Vader, my brother and probably the Mail Man; anyone capable of driving and taking him sightseeing.

And then there is your significant other or as we say here is Puerto Rico, your "media naranja" (half orange), the person who you probably love the most and yet want to push down a short flight of stairs every so often. Just because.  I guess that's why they call them "oranges"...insert squeezing the juice of them joke right here___.


It's the little things that annoy you (me), the little things that sometimes get in the way of the big nice things. It's the ever so dreadful time consuming dwarf that only allows you half a day to spend with this significant other and since sometimes you spend the 90% of that day bickering you can't wait till it's Monday again.

I see those relationships, all kind of relationships, that look so happy, so joyful and I can't help but wonder what's behind closed doors. Because they can't all be so happy now can they? I see my bro and V kissing and then 5 seconds later pushing each other off their seats because my brother cheated during our card matches on Fridays and saw her cards and I remain still not undertanding the dynamics of what makes a relationship work.

And I lay there in my empty bed or sit at my lonely desk or look at my silent phone and wonder, since I am the common denominator of all these relationships:

Am I the problem?

But I can't be now can I...I mean, I love shoes, I love puppies, I love people and I use reusable grocery bags.

How can I be the problem...??
And the face...just look at the face!!!

 
How can I be the problem??? 

Awarding good behavior

So we've been working on this new behavioral modification program for Miss C. Seems like she is quite the terror at school and once again all school officials are "worried", translate that into: "they don't wanna bust their asses".

So, me and the kid made an extra deal aside from the ones at school. I promised her that if she were good everyday, I'd give her a treat. The treat could vary from a simple toy or different coupons to redeem for different things, like for example: bedtime an hour later then the usual 8pm, pizza for breakfast, home movie nights, or 1 hour of quality mommy and me time to do whatever she pleases.

Well, I didn't know what I was getting into. The first day last week, she was excellent and what did I give the kid: One hour of Mommy time.

What did the kid wanna do?

Play with her Little Pet Shop figurines, FOR A FULL HOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I have definitely got "Openmouthclosefoot Syndrome".

Definitely.

My Family

Miss C had her first oral report last Friday. She had to talk about her family, the people she lives with. Just us two. The shortest oral report in 1st grade history.

Near the end of the video I scold her since she starts picking up a wicked spanish accent when she is in fact, and let me pat my back here, accent free. Go figure.

As Seen on TV

Miss C is officially hooked on infomercials.

After getting some Blendipens and Bendaroos for Christmas, for which I had to take up a Master's in Engineering to figure out, she is convinced that these are life changing items.

If by life changing you mean the guy from the Shamwow looks like Gollum and that can be a life changing experience, since you don't wanna purchase towels from a goblin who was obsessed with a ring..

Yeah, I guess.

She insists I get the Spacebags and is totally convinced that all I need in my life right now is a Snuggie.

Because you know, reading and balancing an oh-so slippery blanket is a tricky task. Especially if you have just showered in olive oil.

The Snuggies are my favorite. You know, the people who go out to the sports games looking like monks or people in line waiting to get their degree.

It's inspiring.

No more cold feet for me...no more complicated socks or pants for the cold.

A Snuggie is just the option, especially if that nasty remote control always gets in your way.

What Miss C especially loves is the "Wait there is more".

I mean, who doesn't? Who doesn't love a free bargain, an extra, a bonus?

"Miss C's mom, her therapies are all set...but wait there is more...you won't have to come into this office to file a complaint EVER again".

Now, that's a bargain.

Miss C somehow thinks that the free reading light that comes with the Snuggies is just right for me.

"Momma, so you can see better, don't ya think?"

Honey, I just spent $400 on a pair of glasses, I think the whole "seeing better" issue is resolved.

But I admire her hope, her innocence, and her ability to believe in anything and in anyone. That hope and lack of doubt that glows from her insides. Even when she screams that we should get that scissor that cuts pennies in half and I try miserably to explain we are in no condition to due such atrocious thing.

We need all the Lincoln's we can get...especially if we want that new Slider Station from Billy Mays....

Things that make ya go hum

I just saw a convertible BMW with it's top down.

The license plates were from out of town.

Anchorage, Alaska to be exact.

A convertible from Alaska.

?

Malibu Ken

Call me a little delusional, but I think there is a father at school who is checking me out.

One of those midlife fathers, who drives a sports car and always drives up just as the bell rings and I’m exiting out of the gate.

Let me just add: Ewwww

He’s one of those dad’s who had dedicated the later part of his life to make sure his torso is bigger than his head and that he won’t be able to put his arms side by side because of the size of his “guns”. He also has a punk haircut with blonde frosted tips.

Adding again: Double Eww

He eyeballs me as soon as he sees me and gives me his best: “I could rock your world baby smile”.

I try not to attack him with some Ms Clairol number #2 in dark adult male black.

I wanna scream out to him “What part of me screams out mid life crisis lover?”

So I try to zoom by as fast as I can and try to get in my car to put a abrupt end to his eagle eye.

Sometimes I just wish he were staring because I have some odd stain on my blouse, but is it not the case.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, a small particle of me or of any woman would feel slightly flattered that out of all the mom’s there, because let me tell ya, it looks like a fashion show in the mornings at that there school, someone puts an eye on ya…kinda feels nice.

I said “Kinda”.

Cause I’m not interested. He looks like Malibu Ken and we all know that poor Ken is anatomically incorrect. Very incorrect indeed.

The "Professionals"

So we've been having trouble with Miss C. School troubles.

After a month without school or therapy structure, she obviously was a tad haywire the first few days of school. Screaming, kicking, crying, begging for her mom.

After the third day back, her teacher called.

When she calls, it's not good.
She can never call to give good news, it's always "Um..hello Miss C's mom...she just stabbed a child in the cafeteria, but don't get too worried".

Or something like that.

So there she was calling. Miss C was upset, I could hear her screaming.

The teacher went on about how worried she is for her well being and then hit me with this:

"Is there anything going on in the home that we should know about? Anything wrong?"

WHATKINDOFHELLOFAQUESTIONISTHAT

"No. We are a happy little routine family. Me and the kid, no one else, nothing else, why would there something wrong in MY neck of the woods".

She stammered.

"Well, because it is not normal for Miss to have this behavior this far along in the school year, we had already gotten a hold of her behavior."

"Well, let's recap, shall we. Her main problem is her obsessive hold on routine. Her need to have everything planned out for her. Her need of control, of the same thing everyday. They had school vacations for about a month and half, with toys, no teachers, no schoolwork, Miss C had major mommy time and now she's back to school, on a Tuesday, no less, thrust back into school, into the peer pressure to be good, to be "normal" and you people ask me what is wrong in MY house?? You can't expect her to fit in right away. Your goals are way to unrealistic and then you call me every five mintues while I'm at work, with a screaming child in the background and expect me to DO something. You people are the professionals and you've had her since August and still can't manage her. Then you have to rethink your strategies."

What I got from her was silence.

She apologized and hung up.

The kid came home and was punished with no TV. It hurt like hell. She cried. She apologized and I told her that apologizing wasn't enough.

"But momma, I don't know any other word to tell you it was my fault".

I had to hug her. Because kid, deep down, I feel that we are the ones that have to adjust to you and not vice versa.

If I only had a magic wand.

Newer Posts Older Posts Home