Bridge over Troubled Water.

Louis just pulled me up to tell me this:

Louis: "Mummy, if I cross a bloody old bridge and fall in, there will be carnivores in the water and they will eat me. Then Daddy will sit in the back and you will have to drive HIM to preschool. Or maybe you could be eaten too and Daddy can FINALLY drive the car !!"

What am I supposed to get from this information?

I am bogarting the car?
Louis doesn't want to go to preschool anymore and would rather be eaten alive by meat eating dinosaurs?

How am I going to stop him saying "bloody old bridge". He got it off Dora. He misheard the grumpy old troll talking about his bridge and refers to any overpass as a "bloody old bridge".

Kindergarten is going to be fun,right. Hmmmm. Apparently today at preschool he kept announcing that dinosaurs "stink". Finally they cottoned on that he mean't "extinct".

Raise a glass to Big Daddy.

Howdy folks. I am back again. Maybe only sporadically for the next couple of weeks though. Big time assignments and exams coming up.

I wanted to make good my threat however, to review Big Daddy's book.

I read the book in two sittings. I was really impressed. You see, I own at least forty memoirs, biographies, compilations relating to autism. Yes, obsession is a hobby of mine.

Big Daddy has written the ONLY book that I have read, that has the perfect balance of gritty honesty, outrageous humour and touching poignancy. And outrageous humour....did I mention that?

I have read all of Big Daddy's posts. Each day, I feel as though I walk through the door of his house and sit down to enjoy the show. I have a deep respect for his wife, I simply adore his autistic son Griffin and I am proud of the young lady that Lil Sis is becoming. Big Daddy, seems kinda cool too. Bit obsessed with his own moobs, but hey different strokes and all.

I wouldn't know these people, if I passed them on the street; which is unlikely considering the oppositie hemispheric locations we reside in. And yet, I really care about them. I look forward to hearing what is going on in their lives. I relate to them and when I read Big Daddy's blog, I feel part of a community. Something bigger than myself. That is a nice place to be able to go, when my own life raising and child with autism gets difficult.

Big Daddy's book, is all this and more. I can only liken it to how my son felt when, after watching months worth of Thomas episodes, he discovered there was a feature length movie. Yeah, that good.

He has written a book, that like his blog, celebrates the hysterically funny and often surreal moments that living with a child with autism brings. I respect his ability to appeal to such a vast array of us residing in the autism community. He has been able to do this, without buying into any politics that surrounds autism. He has shown through example that acceptance and respect is a destination that we all should reach for, no matter which side of the autism debate we are on.
The essays interspersed throughout the book are written by some brilliant online writers of autism. It was delightful to recognise each 'voice' and be taken by the hand to experience a little more deeply their experiences with autism.

My husband is currently reading Big Daddy's book. I can hear him laughing out loud, from rooms away.


Oh and Lynn, you start the book with a comment about squirting your pants and bookend it with a statment comparing Italy to a sleazy slut. Girl, you are a legend!

You done good Big Daddy.

Sleepless saga post eleventy million

Things are pretty rough round these parts with the ongoing and worsening lack of sleep.

Most days, just getting through on survival mode. That is okay. Surviving is better than not surviving.

However, blogging not up there in priorities.

I will be back on scintillating form soon.

I HAVE finished Big Daddy's book. It is fucking fantastic. I will be reviewing it, as previously threatened. I just want to do it justice and so will wait until I have a night's sleep under my belt.

So a big hello from under the fog.

No more miles to go before I sleep.

Howdy folks

I have been MIA. Madness, stress, lack of sleep and madness. Did I mention madness?

I am taking the advice of a dear friend, who has suggested that I shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Apparently, the vaccuuming, essay reworking and shopping can wait. So that is what I have been trying to do.

I imagine I would feel a lot better, if I didn't feel so goddamn guilty.

Anyhoo.....

Big Daddy's book arrived today. Very excited. I will read it and review it. Right here, on this blog. Stay tuned.

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my mum.

My mum could probably get herself a diagnosis of PTSD, for what I put her through. I was a difficult child, a nightmare of a teenager and a loose cannon in early adulthood.

Mum was the one person, who stuck through it all and kept wanting to hear from me. She wasn't blind to my faults. Good grief, she let me have it on occasion. But despite it all, she loved me anyway.

She is just the kind of woman that I want to be. She doesn't suffer fools gladly. Unlike me though, she is polite and mostly keeps her feelings to herself. She loves all animals unreservedly. Seriously, the most hopeless fool for an animal I have ever known. I reckon I come in at a close second. She raised two fine boys and me.

She taught me how to be strong through example. She taught me how to knuckle down, and do what needs to be done. She gave me the love of books and poetry. She is still trying to teach me how to keep an organised house, but really it is probably time to let that one go to the keeper.

She loves my boy with all her heart. She is a champion for his rights. She has played endless hours of repetitive games. She has cheered him on every step of the way. She is so proud of him, for who he is. She worries about him, like she worried about me. But she needn't. Louis feels safe and comfortable and strong when he is around Nanna. The same gifts that she gave me.

Mum was with me when I gave birth to Henry. She held my hand through the painful labour. She cried as she held him, knowing he was going to die. She cried for the little life that was never going to be. She cried for the painful journey of loss she knew that I was just beginning.

Without the twin anchors of my mother and my husband, I wonder if I would have sailed off with that grief. Its pull was so strong.

Today, the pain is bittersweet. I am so grateful for the son I have. I ache for the son I will never truly know. It has been a day of reflection. Of joy and grief.
I love you Mum.

Thank you Mum, for the strength and unending love you give me.
Thank you Louis, my precious funny boy.
Thank you Henry, I will hold you in my dreams, sweet one.

Insanity is a hooting dinosaur

AAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH

That was me tearing my hair out in frustration.

I am seriously doubting my sanity at the moment. As I have spoken about before, I am studying to become a special education teacher. I specifically want to work with autistic kids. Because they rock.

Anyway, I have this 3000 word essay to do on law and ethics and it is totally doing my head in. I have never experienced anything like this in my whole schooling, tertiary or otherwise.

I simply cannot write this essay. I can't organise my thoughts. I can't stop them from jumping from subject to subject, long enough to get anything written down.

I have, I shit you not, a 20 cm pile of reference papers and journals. I have read them all.

I have simply no ability to slow my brain down long enough to get this fucking essay written.

I know this is going to sound pathetic, coming off the back of my hypochondria post but I think I know what the problem is........I HAVE ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER.
For some reason it has just struck me down at 38 years of age. Some of you may scoff and put it down to the ongoing sleep deprivation, stress and general depression, but my money is on adult onset ADD.

In other news, Louis spent the majority of the day making odd hooting noises instead of speaking. It was astonishingly annoying.

Late this afternoon, he filled me in that he is actually being a Stygimoloch. A herbivorous dinosaur from the cretaceous period, with a bony head. I am not kidding. He told me all these facts. This from a boy who cannot for the life of him, recall the letters of the alphabet.

I just looked up Stygimoloch on the net, to make sure I spelled it correctly. Apparently, they use their hard skulls to fight each other. I guess that explains why he was headbutting my thighs all day long.

This is Louis, hooting at the cat.

Nanna Nap

That is my head. That is my head sans makeup. Under flourescent lights. With nearly three months straight of sleepless nights under my belt. So be kind.

I wanted to show you how racoon-like my eyes have become. I know I have recently compared the bags under my eyes to the scrotums of meercats, but I have changed my mind. I definitely look like a racoon. If I had just brushed my teeth - a racoon with rabies.

Now, I have never been a fashion plate. Never had the kind of looks that stop people in the street. Frankly, I am grateful. I just don't like that kind of attention. However, people are now commenting on how tired I look - a lot.

"Wow, still not sleeping huh" and
"You look EXHAUSTED".

Well duh.

So, this brings me to my next point. Sleep deprivation not only ramps up the irritability and crazy in me. Apparently, it also turns me into a raving hypochondriac.

I had totally convinced myself, that I had either diabetes or Ross River virus. Both are pretty debilitating and I have been feeling much stress because, let's be honest, I don't have the time or energy to be sick. I have been anxious and stressed over my imagined prognosis. I have consulted Dr Google and caused myself great alarm.

Last night, I slept upstairs and husband was on Louis duty. I slept for 6 hours straight.

With six hours sleep comes renewed clarity.

It wasn't hypoglycaemic issues causing lethargy. Not getting sleep was causing me to fall asleep with my eyes open at 1pm each day.

This seems really bloody obvious now, on the back of a nights sleep. But, when you are living in a fog of exhaustion, it is like being depressed. It becomes your new normal and you can't remember what life was like before.

I have decided today, while Louis is at school, to NOT do any uni work. To do the bare minimum of housework and to have a nap. I am going to ignore the voice in my head that is jumping up and down, shouting about all the work that needs to be done. I need to function with a clearer head. I don't want my neuroses getting the better of me, the way they seem to when I don't get enough sleep.

So off to a nanna nap. Night all.

He says

Things Louis has said in the last 48 hours.

On seeing Daddy shave: "Mummy, Daddy has a dirty head and needs to comb it off".

On seeing a teenager with acne get off the bus: "It's head is spots? He has itchy fleas. It has spots like your feet, Daddy".

On seeing a woman on the bus with a pink flower in her hair: "It has a flower on his head". "It has a pink flower". "But my favourite colour is blue!!"

After seeing me yell out after stubbing my toe: "What?"
Me: "I hurt my toe, Louis"
Louis: "No you didn't, I am fine"