At my son’s Occupational Therapy session, I sat in the waiting room.  There were kids who had many different diagnoses and issues.  One child (a preteen) was a very loud talker.  He first walked around the office looking at concrete objects in the room through a spinning app on his iPad.  He was naming everything he saw in the room.  When he was finished with that task, he asked a woman all about herself :  what’s your name?  what’s your favorite color?  what’s your favorite number?  If he did not like her answer, he would tell her what her favorite color or number was.

On some days, there are kids in waiting rooms of therapies that cannot handle noise, will cover their ears and hum noisily.  Sometimes there are kids who LOVE noise and will try to make as many things smash as possible.  Sometimes there are older kids who talk to themselves in conversation to calm themselves down.  Sometimes there are nonverbal kids who communicate more with grunting or leading.  Some children have physical disabilities as well.  Sometimes kids flap, sometimes kids rock, some kids may be geniuses, some may have an intellectual disability.

My son has been exposed to all different types of children and adults.  Subsequently, I have been exposed to all different types of people as well.  Prior to having my son, I usually felt uncomfortable or not knowing how to interact:  don’t stare, don’t ignore, what should I say? offer help?  Thankfully, over time I have had more and more of an opportunity to speak with, laugh with, learn and not be “uncomfortable” around people.  I thank Roger for that.  And, what is amazing, Roger never notes if a child is having a full meltdown, injuring themselves, flapping, screaming, missing a limb, looks “different”.  He just does not seem to notice or care.  Or is it the norm for him to be around?

Inclusion for me does not mean my child is included with  your “neurotypical” kid.  Inclusion should mean that your child has the opportunity to meet all types of children.  They need to see all kids as “normal” and not treat those with disabilities differently.  If only I had the opportunity when I was younger….

Me, again

Today is another post solely about me.  After yesterday’s post, I became my usual OCD self — looking up Weight Watchers, meeting times, FB groups, etc.  I ended up signing up for 3 months with meetings (there was a 20% discount).  I began my points counting yesterday and attended my first meeting today.  My stomach ached before the meeting: did not know what to expect, nervous to be weighed, and, overall, uncomfortable.  Upon arriving, they had log-in stations that are partitioned off for privacy on the scale.  The leader helped me sign-in, weigh-in, and with my paperwork.  On a positive note, I was .2 lbs lighter than I anticipated when I joined yesterday.  I was fearful my number would be higher.  Sticking with the positivity — damn, that leader, was so enthusiastic.  I am not used to happily, enthusiastic folks.  I am used to more neutral beings.

The meeting was okay and the orientation afterwards pretty unnecessary (I reviewed the app yesterday).  It was not earth shattering, but am hoping I am motivated enough to follow through.

My problems with food

Like a lot of folks, I am a bit food obsessed.  Not as a foodie or one who enjoys cooking, but one who questions every food choice.  I have had issues with food my whole life.  As a child, I enjoyed eating boxes of macaroni and cheese and watching TV.  This led to a chubby childhood, preteen, and teen years.  When I was younger, I hated recess and gym.  I recall being called a “tub of lard” while playing Four Square.  Fun times.  I did diet in high school and lost a bit of weight, had my first boyfriend, and, in the process, gained back all my lost weight.

Some time in college is when I fully became obsessed with food.  I remember dieting at a normal level (or maybe just “eating healthier”) — not eating bread with my burger, eating more veggies, and eventually becoming vegetarian.  At the same time, I lost a good amount of weight and I received so many compliments.  However, I kept wanting to see lower numbers on the scale.  I really started restricting my food intake.  I never kept a food journal but I believe I ate around 500 calories per day.  My weight continued to drop and my period went away (amenorrhea).  I started growing a little fur on my body (a protective layer – lanugo).   My weight was half of what it is now.  People no longer complimented but called my parents or asked if I was sick.

I recall when I broke up with anorexia.  I went to an italian place with my parents and could not stop eating.  This happened a few times and I felt shitty afterwards.  Then, bulimia became my best friend.  While anorexia accompanied me for about a year, bulimia was present for a good 8 years or so.  There were many things that occurred at that time — I really try not to reflect too much on those years.

Aftermath:  I am not sure what is linked to this as my history, but now I suffer from IBS, have problems swallowing, have reflux (that brings the food right back up), have problems with digestion (things remain undigested for long periods of time), my memory is horrible, have sleep issues, incredibly low energy, have eroded enamel on teeth, have difficulty losing weight — usually have to restrict to a 1200 calorie diet  to make headway, etc.  I have been in many therapies and still go to therapy irregularly (mainly regarding my OCD).  The therapists I have met in recent years usually think I am headed for an eating disorder or knew I had dealt with one without me having to tell them (due to my anxiety, depression, OCD, Aspergers and control issues).

Probably shared a little too much about my eating disorder history (maybe a little too little since it spanned about a decade of my life), but it helps to make me who I am today.

I want to get healthy but am afraid of becoming obsessed again.  I have decided to try out Weight Watchers beginning next week after Roger turns 5 (so I can enjoy the sweets!).  I really hope I can attain what I want without going to extremes.  I am going to try to remain honest in my blogging to hold myself accountable.

Sweet boy

My son may jump all over us and get a little rough when excited.  However, when he is around other little kiddos, he is the most gentle child.  He loves playing chase and tag and roughhousing without the actual roughhousing.  When I see a child push him, hit him or kick him, I usually say something along the lines of “that is not nice”.  So, yes, I am that helicopter mom trying to keep Roger safe.

An article came out last week which I will probably massacre in relaying.  It stated something along the lines of 90% of teenagers with autism are bullied.  Most are completely unaware as they think of the bullies as their friends.  These friends will manipulate, steal, make fun of, etc. their friend with autism. I worry about him entering public school.  I worry about what I do not hear or see on the playground.  I worry… The one thing I do not worry about is Roger being mean or rough with other children.  I have such a sweet boy.

Overthinking everything

Yesterday, I woke up and felt like hell.  I slept horribly as thoughts kept racing through my head.  I thought I must have the flu or some sort of illness:  nausea, body aches, sore throat, headache.  I made a doctor’s appointment for today.

Today, I woke up feeling pretty okay.  I did not sleep so well, as a near-five-year-old kept kicking me in the thighs.  However, I was not daunted by thoughts and could fall back asleep once I positioned him.  I no longer felt sick.  I still had a slight sore throat, but so very slight.  I felt happy, energetic, ready to conquer the world (well, work and my 30 minutes of exercise).

The difference:  support.  Yesterday, I reached out and spoke “virtually” with some mother friends to sort out my crazy thoughts.  My thoughts were not crazy per se…they were just driving me crazy!  I also decided to let the afternoon take us where it may:  picking up Roger, OT, rollerskating, talking about Inside Out, bath time, and, overall, sweetness.

So long overthinking — at least for one night!


Over the weekend, I have all these plans to reorganize all the closets, workspaces, files, toys, etc. when Roger is back in school.  Additionally, I plan on eating healthy, exercising, and blogging.  Then there is a restless Sunday night of sleep.  I wake exhausted and barely able to function and finish work.  I think, “if I muster up enough energy, I can start in ____ room”.  I then make the decision to take days off to work on the organization but do not do so in fear that I will be too tired to do anything on those days and have just wasted days off.

At least I wrote a few lines in this blog…