...As I primed our outfits for Miss C's Honor Roll Ceremony tomorrow, a haunting thought came to mind.  A  thought that has come to mind many times before but today as it rang in my head and  pounded in my chest, I  just had to catch my breath.

I have done this shit alone.

Alone.

We have survived alone.

And in these days of me being uncharacteristically happy, I realized that alone maybe not that bad.

I wasn't sad at the 'doing it alone'.  I was no longer bitter at 'alone'.  I was in fact, stoic.  I can zip up my own damn dress, most of the times. I can wash my own car.  I can hold up a full time job and be a full time mother to a child who is a handful.  I have done it alone.  I mean, I have had my small corner support team and Miss C's dad is always hands on, but he doesn't live here.  I have the kid 24/7.  Enough to make me wanna drive off a cliff, literally, a few times.

I have done this alone.  The Dx, the tantrums, the job loss, the no money, the heartbreaks, the men that worked and I pushed away, the men that didn't work and messed me up, the parents who could give a shit, the fucked up jobs, the nights where I wanted to just send it all to hell and disappear and never come back.  Alone.  Alone and I am still standing.  That has got to mean something. Something. Damn it.

and maybe a day will come when I will have someone to zip up my dress, or sit and be a political junkie with me and talk bullshit and watch a game and just chill.

And maybe I won't.

Regardless, when tomorrow the kid goes on stage to get her recognition and we both look fabulous I will know I can pull my own weight.

and to that: Fuck yeah.

And as the water ran, I opened my mouth to scream...and nothing came out.  Nothing.  I screamed in silence.  Complete and utter silence.  I am consumed.  I am consumed by the kid.  I am consumed and tired.

Tired.

All I could replay in my head was her face an in between her pink and red bows, her new bald spot.

She is yanking out her hair in anxiety.

I could see it over and over and hear her say: "I think I am going crazy".

It was all my head could replay.

No child should ever think they are going crazy.

No one for that matter.

I am consumed and tired of this crazy roller coaster of emotions. I am tired of the "tomorrow is another day".

"Tomorrow things will be better".

When it comes to my child, I am a selfish bitch.  I don't want things to get better tomorrow.
I want them to get better NOW.

I walk a thin line between anger and pain.  I want to be angry at her. I feel sometimes like I do harbor feelings of anger towards her.  This afternoon, I couldn't stand to look at her, or speak to her.

But I also feel pain.  Deep, unfathomable pain.  Pain so hard, so paralyzing  I cannot sleep, or think or breathe at times.  Pain that cannot begin to be compared with the pain my daughter feels.  I see it in her face.  I see she cannot control herself.  I know she tries.

And I am going to say what many people will debate, but we have all thought at some moment:

Am I doing all I possibly can?

At times, like this week, I feel like a failure.

And I know it is not in my hands.  And I know that it is not my fault and that it is what it is...but the helplessness can lead you to think this at times.

Even when I know it is not true.

But the pain is there regardless and the silence of my immediate family sharpens the pain and makes things more unbearable.

And in this month of April, the month of Autism Awareness, I cannot help but feel nauseated and sick each time I see a ribbon or a poster or a "Light it up Blue"...because it is a reminder, we are no where closer to finding a cure, which means my time is running out.

"Isn't Valentine's the best Holiday"-the kid
"No, it isn't"-me

and she stared at me and demanded to know why I had stabbed her in her little sweet ol' heart.

I started to think how to put it diplomatically   But really, there was no way.  I cannot tell a lie.  I couldn't lie to her either.  Valentine's is a crock.  And I don't say that because I don't believe in love.  I say it, because it is.  It is a crock.  A commercial crock.  It is the day of the year I wish I didn't have to leave my house.  People in red, the flower sending, the chocolate buying, sugary lovey dovey, restaurant filled, motel packed day of the year.  Cards for lovers, husbands, wives, friends, grandparents, dogs, cats...dammit. The chalk tasting hearts with crooked printings of "Be Mine"...the Peeps...well, the Peeps aren't bad...I can deal with the Peeps, but...all in all, aren't we a little overboard?

And who can forget: The proposals!! Oh God!! The proposals!!! (which not so long ago I was subject to on a Valentine's Day and I swear I could hear the God's laughing).

Really? Really?

Is this all necessary   Do we need, just like Mother's Day, ONE day to tell someone you love them? With a pink and red 6 foot plush Teddy Bear that plays "Great Balls of Fire" when you squeeze it's paw???!!


Then: the possible break ups, the back to ignoring your loved one, the screening of the incoming calls, the pouring over facebook statuses to analyze what his/her post ment and if it was directed to you.  From "in a relationship" to "it's complicated".

The aftermath of the sugar induced future diabetics of the planet.

I am not pessimistic or loved scorned.  I do believe in love, in being there for your other mate, in showing some kind of affection, whatever your choice maybe.  I just don't go with the masses or the crap they try to feed us.  I don't need a 6 foot teddy bear.  I need someone to be there for me.  To mean what they say, to stick it out in all types of weather, to hold down the fort with me.  I need people to be nicer to each other, everyday, love their kids, neighbors, planet, the guy at the light asking for some change.

Love is and should be in constant motion.

No one should wanna be someone's Valentine's....you should wanna be their love.

So I opened my mouth, ready to give my 101 reasons why Valentine's sucks and as the kid stood there demanding my explanation, all I could muster was:

"Just kidding!! Valentine's is awesome".

Her face was relieved.

Just like Santa and the Three Kings and the rest of things in life that seem real but are fake, she had enough time to find out on her own, without me pushing it, what a crock this was as well.

For now, let her love, even if it is in the sake of this fake saint.  And let her, wanna let me, be her Valentine's.

This week I got one of the many episodes I get from people who have barely seen the kid during her life and have all kinds of opinions of her diagnosis, prognosis and other misconceptions they like to add on.

So today I received a Multimedia Message on my phone.  You know the one with Gene Wilder, as Willy Wonka?  Where he says something smart ass along the lines of:

you got to know the one, cause there are tons of them all over the place.
Well this one started off with the sentence, and I am gonna repeat it for the sake of writing, because believe me kiddos, I would rather not repeat this one...."So you have big tits...."

Insert long ass pause here.
Insert bewildered, whatthehellano face in here.

I mean, we are all adults, and I received some cray-cray texts and pics from my female friends and we kid around a lot...but this, coming from a member of the opposite sex; a member whom I don't consider in my inner circle of "ifyougetarrestediwilljoinyouintheslammer" friends.

I, the woman with a thousand words and quick wit, was astonished.  Flabbergasted.  Offended.

Should I answer and how?

"Asshole"

It was all I could conjure that could every so eloquently speak my mind.

I was immediately accused of having no sense of humor.

Dude, do I look like I'm 17 and shop at Hot Topics?  I am a woman...a grown ass woman.  You are a grown ass man.  Ever wonder why you're still single?  Hint, muthableepin', hint.

I have a sense of humor, a dark, dry, sense of humor, but alas, I do have one.
I can be witty, funny, charming, comical.

I like humor.
I don't like crass.

There is a difference.

"CRASS".  There is a reason "ASS" is in that word.  It ain't no coincidence.

So I curse you technological Gods for creating Multimedia Messages and giving people the sense that crass and vulgar and cheap, equals funny messages to share with people you don't barely see or hang out with.

And I thank you because in that same world, I can choose to unfriend and delete such crud and block further bodily parts and function jokes from every invading my space.

I have bodily parts and functions...but my ASS has CLASS.

That's the difference.