Archive | September 2015

September 11, 2001

12, 10, 9, and 4. That is how old my children were on September 11, 2001, the day everything they knew about their world changed.

When my oldest came to tell me something really bad just happened, the look on his face was something I’d never seen before, something I never hope to see again. He was scared and confused. “Something bad has happened mommy, it’s on TV and lots of people are going to be dead now.”

I followed him to the living room as he told me an airplane had an accident and hit a building. When I saw the awful scene playing out on the screen I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach, how does an accident like this happen?

The second plane hadn’t hit yet.

When it did, I crumbled.

I remember falling to my knees right there in front of the television, still not completely comprehending what was happening, or perhaps I simply didn’t want to.

My children were crying, I don’t know if they really knew why. What they did know, was something was very wrong and very sad. Since they were babies we’ve always whispered a prayer when we hear a siren or see an ambulance or fire truck, God be there, our way of helping those in need I suppose. It’s something my mother did with me and something I have always done with them.

The buildings hadn’t begun to fall yet.

When they did, I forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Through my tears I saw my children, huddled together on the floor in front of the television, heads bowed in silence. As the footage ran and the buildings continued to fall, four little voices called out in prayer, saying “God, please be there.”

Crystal R. Cook

A Day of My Own To Do Whatever I want – OBP Challenge!

Sep10

From Original Bunker Punks – “Welcome to the blog battle zone of the best writers fighting to be featured on the OBP. Our theme this week is to write a day in your life where there would be no boundaries and you could do anything you want. The winner of this competition will be featured on OBP and other social media in our writers spotlight where your blog will be showcased each week to bring more traffic to your wonderful words. The post needs to be between 800-1,200 so get creative and linkup on Thurs. Sept. 10 th to Fri. Sept. 11 th from 9 am to 9 pm. I look forward to reading you there let the games begin.”

You should probably join in the fun. You should, because it’s fun.

Tomorrow is a big day for me, like BIG, as in I can do anything I want. Seriously, like whatever my heart desires, without boundary, without limit . . . it’s going to be fantastic. I should thank the badasses over at Original Bunker Punks before I start planning my ME day, the whole ‘do whatever you want day’ was their idea. Dreams come true, folks. Dreams really do come true, in this case on the page, but still . . . Thank you Punks. Thank you.

Alright, first things first, I have to figure out what I’m going to wear. Obviously, my tiara, that kind of goes without saying. Why have one if you’re not going to wear it, right? I’m trying to decide between staying in my pajamas the whole day or going full on princess. So far, I’m leaning toward my pajamas, I have the most divinely comfortable pair of baggy pajama bottoms with freakishly adorable owls adorning them, paired with my favorite worn out skull t-shirt it’s a full on comfort fest. I’ll finish off the look with a messy bun and the tiara, and BOOM, style. Oh, and a tutu. Maybe.

Damn I’m excited. I’m a fairly simple gal, I don’t ask for much. Honestly, my desires are pretty down to earth for the most part. I don’t want to travel the world or have super powers, well, maybe a few superpowers, but really, who wouldn’t? So I don’t have any truly outrageous plans, tomorrow will be filled with simple things that make me happy, simple things that are surprisingly and frustratingly difficult to make happen.

So – the first thing I’m gonna do is sleep in till I simply can’t sleep anymore. Now, I may actually need superpowers to make this part happen, but no phones are going to ring. No kids are going to knock on the door. No dogs are going to bark. There will be silence. Sweet, perfect, blessed silence and I’m going to wake up so freaking refreshed and well rested I’ll feel like I could take on the world. Then, I’m going to adorn my crazy bed-head with that sparkling tiara and sip a never-ending cup of perfectly sweetened coffee while I watch my kids silently do chores without complaint or hesitation. I’m going to read a book without interruption while they work. Awesome. (I might need those superpowers for that part as well.)

While they scrub floors I’ll get myself ready, (I’ve decided against the tutu – I think) The next part of my day will be spent at the bookstore. I’ll get to stay as long as I want. Long enough to really peruse the selection of beautiful words, printed and bound, just waiting for me on those shelves. No quick skimming the surface tomorrow. Nope. I’m going to surround myself with stacks of stories and possibility and lose myself inside of them, and THEN, I’m going to bring them home with me. Maybe ALL of them.

Once home, I’ll be so inspired I’ll sit down to write, and the words will flow freely and without abandon, my opus will breathe into life, line by easily written line, born into reality like a new babe the world cannot wait to hold. Then, of course, I’ll need a nap. I’ve quite obviously never written an opus-esque anything, but I imagine it’s quite tiring.

Upon waking, I’ll indulge myself with another coffee and perhaps some of the freshly baked cookies my children prepared and cleaned up the mess they made afterward, that are cooling in the kitchen while I decide which of my new books to peek inside of first. My heart and tummy filled, I’ll likely take another short nap before my husband arrives home from a long day of work to begin dinner preparations. He’ll be making me a fabulous Quiche. He really does make a fabulous Quiche. He won’t even say anything about the multitude of new books scattered about the house, he’ll simply ask where I’d like the new bookshelf he’ll be building after dinner to be placed.

Wait. There needs to be a picnic in here somewhere. You know, like the TV picnics, with the checkered blanket and one of those baskets that have simply everything possibly picnic related in them? Yeah. One of those. A nice family picnic. I think we can fit that in after the bookstore, before my opus, then books and cookies and another nap and dinner and new bookshelf. Perfect.

Now then, it will be getting late and the soothing sounds of Pachelbel and Bach will fill my home as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Calm and peace will reign. The sunset will paint me a masterpiece of softly fading pastels upon my windows, and the glorious song of a night-bird will float into my room on a gentle breeze, ushering in the eve with a sweetly warbled lullaby to lead me into tranquil repose.

I’ll swiftly drift off to visit the land of nod with thoughts of my positively, perfect day dancing through my mind . . .

I’ll just stay in bed all day, I will be in my pajamas after all.

Crystal R. Cook

Do you want to hear about autism from someone who REALLY gets it?

Sep3

I’m thinking about starting an interactive series, two actually, here on The Qwiet Muse – I’d love to hear some feedback about the idea.

If you know me, or have read my About Me page, you know I have two amazing children with Autism, one is Bipolar as well. They are both intelligent, articulate, and more self-aware than most people I’ve come in contact with. They astound and amaze me with their insights and their desire to better help the world around them understand the developmental and mental issues they, and so many others, face on a day-to-day basis.

I truly believe in order to even begin to understand autism or bipolar, you have to learn from the very people who understand it best – the ones who live with it.

What I would like to do is invite people to ask any questions they might have, here, or through The Qwiet Muse on Facebook or Twitter, and have them answer each question personally on videos that will post on Mondays – Matthew Mondays, and on Wednesdays – Wilson Wednesdays.

Matthew can address his experiences, advice, and answer questions regarding Autism and Bipolar, and Wilson will do the same about Autism. Both boys have lived and dealt with anxiety, OCD, depression, sensory issues, Tourette’s, medications, school, social issues, and more.

You don’t have to have a loved one with Autism or any of the other issues we might cover, it’s important for everyone to develop a deeper understanding and awareness, caregivers, teachers, neighbors, and anyone who wishes to eradicate the ignorance, misinformation and misunderstandings that are so abundant when it comes to these things.

I’ve been on this journey for almost 26 years now, maybe I’ll even join in . . .

Please leave me a reply and let me know what you think or go ahead and leave a question or two to get us started.
Thank you!

Feeling Throat Punchy Today

Sep2

4de6778004b427d07c74526fbeece0e3 I’m in pain again and bitchy. Like, really bitchy, but not super bitchy because after all, I’m a frickin sweetheart. But boy, I’m angervated by so many things today, like faces. People’s faces are pissing me off, and their voices, and their breathing. I shouldn’t have left the house. I should have chosen somewhere OTHER than Walmart to get what I needed to get. I SHOULD have stayed in bed where it is quiet and I don’t have to see people and their faces.

I have a pinched nerve in my back and I’m walking like Quasimodo, trying not to look like I’m in pain, trying to act like I am not ready to throat punch or stab everyone within punching or stabbing distance. I should have worn my tiara, might have made me feel better.

I didn’t even find what I was looking for at that infernal freak show of a store. Well, to be truthful, I forgot what I seemed to be in such desperate need of that I left the sanctuary of my home to find. I did get hit by two carts, almost plowed down a three year old who was let loose to run and rampage like a miniature drunken troll on speed through the pharmacy aisles, and I knocked over a display of Old Spice deodorant, it was that or hit the old man who came to a dead stop in front of me to adjust his trousers.

At least I had a chauffeur, an eighteen year old I’m proud to say I created and is as obnoxious as I am and kept 3947a4f681c5012c023c12e289ca1b9a making me laugh, which is quite painful to do right now, but I was glad for it. If he wasn’t there I really might have gone a little postal in the electronics department.

I was hobbling around looking at the barely there book section when a couple of assbutt teenagers decided to see how high the volume could go on the display stereo. I about jumped outta my skin when that sound sucker-punched me in the head. Sometimes when I’m startled I say whatever comes to mind, this time it was “Son-of-a-stupid-bitch-hole.” The lady next to me gave ME a dirty look and the jackhole teenagers started laughing.

I was accosted shortly after that by the guy trying to sell cable service to everyone.

“Excuse me, are you happy with your current cable provider?”

“We’re good.”

“Right now we’re offering new customers . . .”

“We’re good, no thanks.”

I cannot get away from him because there is a minor traffic jam being caused by some lady who stopped center aisle of my escape route to read the back of a movie cover.

“I understand. Are you currently recei . . .”

“You know what? I currently HAVE your service and unless you can cut back the ridiculous amount I’m paying or give me some free channels, we’re good.”

“If you’d like to upgrade right now I can . . .”

“Stop talking.”

Was I rude? Maybe, but my pain and aggravation was building and I wanted to pull out my mace and blast the chick blocking the aisle, I chose instead to let my cart graze her ass and pushed my way past.

I’m home now, my kids seem to recognize the danger in upsetting me and are dealing with whatever they usually come to me every five minutes for on their own. They even bought themselves pizza for dinner.

Wow. I just remembered what I needed from Walmart. Figures . . .

Because Maybe I was Meant to be a Frickin Princess

Sep1

**Yesterday I bought a tiara . . . because I could.**

When I was a kid I never pretended I was a princess, like ever. I had no royal inclinations when it came to my dreams, I’d have rather been a vampire to honest. I didn’t want to grow up and be a veterinarian or a nurse or an astronaut or any of the other things little girls my age dreamed of becoming, I wanted to be an archaeologist who drove a big rig when I wasn’t busy running a library. Thus far in life the closest I’ve come to being an archaeologist was the time I found fossilized french fries under my daughter’s bed, and my big rig turned out to be a minivan filled with kids. I do have enough books scattered about my home to operate a small library though, except I don’t want anyone touching my books. Mine.

I really don’t know why I decided to buy myself a tiara. I’m not a girly-girl by a long shot. I don’t have a closet filled with shoes that match all my outfits, come to think of it, I don’t really have outfits. I have a closet full of crap that is too small, too big, or just plain comfy. Some of it even matches. None of the items crammed into drawers or haphazardly hung are fancy or colorful, I have one pink shirt and that’s only because it has a kick-ass skull on it. Vibrant color to me is a new black t-shirt I won’t really love until it’s faded a bit.

11949450_10206002238348582_3654565717378594296_n I’m wearing my tiara right now actually, I think it looks fantastic with my grey tank top and my husband’s old plaid button up I cut the sleeves off of. I feel positively regal. I really wanted to go in search of a scepter or a wand of some sort to match, but my son forbid it. He seems to think there’s a chance I might hit someone with it. He’s probably right.

Last night I put on my tiara and waited for the rest of my offspring to notice, but they didn’t say anything. I was like, “Dudes – I’m wearing a tiara!” and they were like, “And?” They are far too accepting of my weirdness, nothing phases them anymore. I tried to banish them from my kingdom but they wouldn’t leave. They did agree to help me dig a moat around the house, so I guess I won’t push it.

My husband is out of town and doesn’t yet now I’ve elevated my status to princess, he’ll likely be about as impressed as my children were. I’m going to need that scepter . . .