Wilson Wisdom – Autism Awareness

Dec11

img_0770My son made me smile this week, something he does regularly, but this smile – this one is still in my heart. I’m filled to bursting with this smile because he took a huge step, he summoned his courage and he faced the unknown to do something he’s been talking about doing for a some time now.

My son is my hero, I’ll tell you that about him first. In his 27 years, he has taught me more than I could have ever dreamed while I was busy teaching him. His name is Wilson. I knew almost right away he was something special, it took nine years for that something special to be diagnosed, autism.

Our journey together has been amazing.

As he grew older, he began to develop phenomenal insights about autism. His desire to share those insights with others grew into a passion for spreading autism awareness. One of the ways he did this was to create a Cafepress store called Wilson Wisdom. I was an admin for a large online autism group, and he regularly dictated things for me to share with them, he answered questions the members asked, and truly helped so many peek into the world of autism.

The last few years, he’s been making autism awareness posts on Facebook, this week, he decided to make his first video, and I simply cannot stop smiling. I have a feeling once he gets used to it, he is going to do just what he told me he would do when he was younger, change the world one person at a time.

Sharing this smile today for The Weekly Smile at Trent’s World (the blog) 

Wilson Wisdom for Autism Awareness


I am so proud of my son, it takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there like this and I hope he continues to do so . . . He has amazing insights and so much Wilson Wisdom to share.

Doing autism awareness videos is something he’s thought of for some time now, I had no ide he was going to take such a monumental step like this, I am overwhelmed, and as always, so very proud of him.

Please remember he is speaking from his own experiences and sharing what he has learned, and is in the process of learning, throughout his life. He understands everyone with autism is unique, and while he may sometimes say ‘all’, he is speaking about things that are very often common among autistics.

Your comments and encouragement are appreciated 😊

If we were having coffee – I’d be in my jammies

Dec10

img_0367If we were having coffee this lovely Saturday, I would have started without you. I simply couldn’t wait. I awoke earlier than I’d wanted to and got started on the first cup right away. I’m actually on my third cup. It’s a small cup though, the big ones haven’t been washed yet and since it’s no longer my job to wash them, I opted for the last clean one available.

Dish duty has fallen to my youngest son, he’s not very good at his job. He’s nineteen, so it’s not like he can’t reach the sink. The least he could do is make sure I have a clean coffee cup. He KNOWS how important my coffee is to me. I did clean you a cup though, it’s one of my favorites and big enough to hold plenty of fresh brew.

I’d also beg your pardon for still being in my pajamas. I’ve no intention of taking them off until this evening when I change into clean ones before bed. It’s that kind of day.

It’s not a bad day, just a quiet, lazy kind of day. So far anyway.

Have you done much Christmas shopping yet? I realized yesterday I’d better get on that. It’s still not beginning to feel a lot like Christmas around here. I’m trying to find the spirit for it, but it’s hiding well this year. I’m lost in memories of Christmas times when our children were still children and their excitement bubbled over and found a way straight into my heart.

Oh, I spent yesterday at the book store. Alone. For several HOURS. My husband dropped me off and drove away to do his own thing. It was a silent hour and a half in before I realized I’d forgotten my phone at home. Bliss, I tell you, it was bliss. Later, when I checked my phone, there were six missed calls and three texts from one son, two texts from another, and a call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was a lovely, lovely afternoon.

We should meet for coffee at the book store sometime. It’s my happy place. Books and coffee. Perfect.

So, what’s on your Christmas wish list this year? Something special, I hope. Most of the time, my husband lets me pick out something I want and then makes me wait till Christmas to have it. Works out well for me, he usually has a couple of little somethings I don’t know about to surprise me with as well. He is ridiculously hard to buy for. I’ve known the man for thirty years, and still . . . This year we splurged on a giant new TV for him. I didn’t make him wait. Now I just have to find something to wrap up and put under the tree for him.

If I ever get the darned tree up and decorated anyway. Am I the last one without a tree? Maybe tomorrow. Unless you want to meet up at the book store for a cup, some conversation, and maybe a new book or two; I’m totally down for that . . .

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Click the pic to link up! 

Finish the Sentence Friday – This holiday season, I. . . .

Dec9

img_0696This holiday season, I’m not really feeling it, I’m trying, I truly am.

It’s been a tough year. It’s been a beautiful year. Sometimes the tough and the beautiful pick fights with each other over which one gets to be in charge in this here noggin of mine. They’re acting like buttheads in there and I end up an emotional basket case because they’re arguing over the controls.

One moment I’m fine and asking my husband to bring out the Christmas bins from the garage, and then I’m not fine and the idea of decorating at all seems silly and pointless. That particular magic shrank as the children grew.

sigh

Guess which one’s pushing buttons in my brain today? I probably shouldn’t be writing right now, not for others to read . . . but I am. Maybe someone else is feeling something similar, you just never know. Besides, writing about the not-so-good usually brings out some good by the end. I feel like I’ve written this before. I probably have.

I’ve kept most of the tough to myself this year, I guess I’ve kept the beautiful to myself too, so much so that I all but disappeared for six months. I didn’t write. I didn’t call people. I didn’t reach out. I should have been doing all those things. Instead, I sat on the porch and tried to ignore my pain, both physical and emotional, by losing myself in book after book.

Some days were better than others. On those days I changed out of my pajamas, sometimes it was just into new pajamas, but it was an accomplishment on days when I accomplished little else. I’m not going to bore you with details of what brought me to where I was during those months, where I still am some days. I might at some point though, if you’re willing to lend an ear . . .

When I decided to peek out of my little ‘me’ cave, I almost regretted it. My timing kind of sucked. It was all politics and arguing and people unfriending each other, online and in real life, over it all. It was disheartening. I figured I had to face the world at some point though, if I didn’t I would forget how. I was forgetting how, and you know what? Part of me wanted to forget. I don’t always like the world much.

I didn’t know I missed what I had been missing. It took me a minute, but once I made an appearance, I was embraced. I’d been missed. My words had been missed. I’d been an ass. I needed to be one for a while, but reading the messages left for me in my absence overwhelmed me. Some where worried inquiries, some where supporting and encouraging, all of them made my heart smile. Those messages made me realize I mattered in more ways than I’d realized.

I don’t really even know, not in the traditional sense, most of the beautiful folks I call my friends, they are letters and smiley faces and hearts on a screen. But really, they are so much more. I have been blessed. God sent these amazing people into my life, He probably figured I’d never go out and find them, so He crossed our online paths instead.

Thank you, dear Lord. Thank you for that.

I’m still healing. I still spend time alone on the porch, even when it’s kind of chilly, lost in the pages of a book. But I am writing, I am calling people (okay, maybe not this one, I’ve thought about it though), and I’m reaching out – in my own way.

As a matter of fact, I think I’ve just shown myself that I may have come a little farther than I thought. Maybe the beautiful took over in this scattered head of mine. Must have, because I think I do want to get those Christmas decorations put up after all . . .

This post was written for  Finding Ninee‘s Finish the Sentence Friday – This weeks prompt was, “This holiday season, I . . .“

Six Sentence Stories – Home

Dec8

img_0626When the postcard arrived, she laughed and tossed it into the junk bin without bothering to read the details, “You are cordially invited to attend . . ” was all she needed to see, being cordially invited to anything was near the bottom on her list of things she enjoyed, right under jumping out of a plane without a parachute; besides, there wasn’t even a return address – which usually meant junk.

Three days went by without her giving so much as a passing thought to the postcard laying atop the annoying pile of credit card offers and home mortgage refi pitches waiting to be shredded, but then a second invitation arrived.

This one was fancier than the last, the soft, paper linen envelope held a handwritten summons, the gilded ink danced across a clouded vellum insert, “Your presence is requested . . .”, it almost felt like a crime to discard the lovely solicitation into the bin, but she did.

Two more days came and went, as did curious thoughts about the odd invitations, not curious enough to need satisfying though, get-togethers, no matter how appealing the request was presented, held no desire for her; but still, there where those curious questions festering in the back of her mind.

That evening a third envelope arrived, this one in a plain, standard size business envelope, her name centered and typed with commercial precision, no return address, the equally plain white paper inside simply stated, “This is your final notice, please arrive promptly at noon tomorrow.”, the finality of the tone unnerved her, she retrieved the other invitations and scoured them for more information, there wasn’t any to be found.

Six days had passed since the first cryptic notice had arrived, noon came and went, the time between each tick of the second hand on the clock became slower and slower with each movement; the knock on the door came like a sonic boom to her psyche – standing in her doorway was a dapper gentleman, a three ring binder in one hand and an elegant walking cane in the other, “I’m sorry to bother you at home, ma’am, you really should have sent an RSVP . . .”

This is my third Six Sentence Story, and I have to say, this link-up has become one of my favorites! Each time I read the cue, I have no idea what to write, so I just don’t think about it and start. 

What comes out is kind of cool, it gets me inspired to write for the day, which usually lasts throughout the week. I admit to the liberal and questionable use of commas throughout my six sentences . . . brevity in the written word is something I am seemingly incapable of, and being limited to six sentences has forced me to embrace the run-on, rambling writing I so often beg writers I critique not to do.

Thank you, Ivy, for this wonderful link-up!

Six Sentence Stories is a weekly writing prompt hosted by Ivy on her blog Uncharted, this week, the cue was home. 

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Click the pic to join in and share YOUR six sentences! 

A Token of His Love

Dec7

 

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When the night is long
and sleep eludes me
I think of you
until the solace
of slumber
transforms thought
into dream.

I drift within illusion
until I know you’re
by my side,
and I wake
to drink you in.

Your warmth enlivens me,
your taste lingers sweet
upon my lips,
awakening my senses,
stirring my soul,
leaving me longing
for more,
and always,
always, I rise
to pour myself
another cup . . .

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My husband loves me. I know this because he brings me coffee every morning. Over the years, I have come to equate this sweet gesture with love. It may simply be nothing more than a desire to keep me from going into caffeine withdrawals, which he would then have to deal with he comes home after a hard days work, but I prefer to think of it as a sign of his undying love and affection for me.

There was this one day though . . .

I awoke to an empty nightstand. No hot cup of coffee awaiting me. I didn’t remember him waking me to say goodbye, have a good day, or getting my morning kiss. I kind of started to panic.

I figured he’d passed away in the kitchen.

I know, morbid, but I was really tired and hadn’t had any coffee yet, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. I knew I had to get up and go check his pulse and stuff before the kids got out of bed, but I was in mourning and having a hard time extracting myself from the cocoon of covers I was snuggled up in. I was thinking about who to call first and what I would wear to the funeral. It was a really awful way to begin a new day.

I pulled myself together as much as I could and tiptoed down the hallway to peek into the kitchen, his body wasn’t there. He must have breathed his last breath in the garage, or maybe even in the driveway. I checked. He was nowhere to be found. Obviously, he must have been kidnapped as he was pulling the motorcycle out of the garage.

I went back into the empty kitchen and put on a pot of coffee while I tried to remember the number for 911, but then my phone dinged. It was a text. I wondered if the police texted people these days, maybe they found him already and were letting me know.

I readied myself for whatever news awaited me and swiped the screen. The message was from him, or maybe his kidnappers, there was no way to know until I read it.

‘Just got to work – late. Was in a rush this morning. I love you. Make you some coffee when I get home.’

You know what? I was pissed. Then I was relieved. Then I was pissed. How could he put me through all that turmoil? I was prepared to go identify his body! After a couple cups of coffee I realized how silly I was being and I was actually pretty jazzed about getting a bonus cup of coffee when he got home.

That was the last time we stayed up late binging on Netflix.

Holding His Hand

Dec6

img_0580Sometimes I look at him and I don’t see him, not the way he is right now. I see the little boy he used to be, the one who snuggled up so close to me I could feel his heart beating and I mourn for those moments in some small way. I can feel him, the memory is that strong. I smell his little boy smell and I inhale the past like I won’t be able to breathe another breath if I don’t.

Yesterday, I held his little hand in mine. It was so tiny and so dependent on me to hold and guide him in the right direction, to lead him and keep him safe. That little hand of his held on tight. It wrapped around my fingers for security and comfort. I can almost still feel it, a precious hand safely tucked inside of mine.

Today, he held my hand in his. It was bigger than my own, and I held on tight, dependent on the comfort and security I felt within its grasp. My hand, the one that held on to his for so long, was being held. I was the one who needed guidance, I was the one who needed the security of a hand bigger than my own. I simply sat there for as long as I could with my hand tucked safely inside of his.

In that moment, my heart beat in time with his, I know it did. We were one. This amazing human being I once carried within my womb was holding my heart in his hand and I was so overwhelmed with emotion I feared he would think he’d done something wrong. He didn’t though, he felt it too, he understood and he simply held my hand.

When he was born and I cradled him in my arms, I never could have imagined a day when he would be the one to cradle me . . . sometimes I truly do miss the little boy he used to be, but oh, how I cherish and admire and respect the man he has become.

Weekend Coffee Share – I may need an extra shot

Dec5

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I’m late to the party, but sharing anyhow . . .

Here we are again, I wasn’t sure I’d come today. I have too much to say and not enough words to say it all. Do you ever have one of those days, or weeks as in my case right now, where just about everything feels like a roller coaster ride of emotion? I’m certain your answer is a resounding yes, being a human and all.

I hate roller coasters.

I’m not certain why this week has been so laden with anxiety. Anxiety mixed with a sorrow I’ve no real reason to feel. Perhaps it’s the season. I love December. I look forward all year to the winter chill in the air, living in Southern California, it’s a treat for this Alaskan girl. I just can’t quite put my finger on what has gotten me so out of sorts. It might just be the season, the joys of it fill me and empty me at the same time.

Coffee and company should help.

The thing is, Christmas used to be filled with family festivities and children and laughter. Caroling and visits to Santa, secret lists folded in envelopes for his eyes only. It was always about the kids, the excitement bubbling up in their giggles and the anticipation in their little eyes.

My babies are grown ups now.

My family is far away.

I miss what used to be . . .

Oh, how I do love what is, though. My boys whispering to me about what gifts they will be surprising their brothers with, my daughters voice on the line telling me about her holiday plans. But it’s different, and this year it’s gotten to me.

There’s more to it though. The people I see out and about shopping, they don’t seem joyous. I’m probably just not seeing those who are. Maybe I need to look a little harder.

I’m not the best of company, am I? I’m not like Ebenezer, so that’s something. Truthfully, I feel a wee bit better now, maybe it’s the coffee, I’m certain it’s the company! I suppose I just needed to get that out of my system, holding in feelings is never a good thing. I’m going to try letting them go now, thanks in no small way to you, for listening and letting me release a little.

I appreciate it, the next cup is on me . . . ☕️️

Want to join in and share?

Just click on in and grab a cup at

Part-Time Monster

 

 

 

You Don’t Have To . . . but you do

Dec5

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From the bottom of my heart . . .

You don’t have to take the time to read my words, but you do.

You aren’t obligated to take an extra moment of time to like or share or comment, but you do.

I want you to know how much it means to me. How it makes my heart dance and sing each time you leave a little bit of yourself here with me. You don’t have to . . . but you do.

How I wish I could tell you just how much it means it to me.

It may seem silly, and perhaps it is, but I feel connected to each and every person who leaves their mark upon my little world here. The other world, it’s too big and noisy and crowded, this is where I feel at home.

I’ve left the door open and invited all to enter. I may not be the best hostess, I don’t always have something wonderful to say, but by coming in and saying hello, you’ve given my words value.

You make me want to open up and share, I still hold back. I’m like the hostess of a party who retreats to her room once the quests have arrived – you though, you make me want to come out and join in and I am trying.

I read an article this morning about blogging, it said you had to have a niche. It said you had to have something people want or need to hear if you ever want to be a success.

I don’t have a niche. I have a voice, one I’m learning to use a little more. Success is something subjective to me, if just one word I’ve written has moved someone, made them think, or encouraged them in some way, then I count that as a success. Damn right I do.

I recieved a well-intended message recently from a reader, she said I should focus on something. You have autistic children, make an autism blog. You are a writer, make a writing blog. You have diabetes, make a health blog. You are a poet, make a poetry blog. Do something that will draw in people who want to learn what you have to teach them.

Oh, sweet girl . . . thank you, but no.

It meant a lot to me that she would take the time to encourage me in this way, but no. That’s just not where I am right now. I can’t dedicate my mind to a singular subject, maybe one day, but not just yet.

I am grateful to that young woman, she saw something within these pages and took the time to reach out to me, it was a lovely gift and it touched my heart.

I cherish each of you, I just kind of thought you should now.

 

 

 

 

 

An Introverts Attempt at Extroverting -or-Wow, I Really Suck at Peopling

Dec4

 

img_0526I did something last night. Something so totally out of character and my realm of comfort that I am still in a bit of shock. I’m kind of proud of myself, and still slightly mortified if you want to know the truth.

Here’s the thing . . . I am a little introverted, maybe a little more than a lot introverted. Full disclosure and all, I’m not good with or around people. I can fake it fairly well, most of the time, and once you get to know me it might even surprise you just how terrible I am at the whole people thing. For the most part, I tend to NOT people much.

I prefer to sit back and watch without engaging.

I have friends. They love me and I love them right back. They accept my ‘me’ness, I don’t know why, but thank God in Heaven they do. I recently found out IRL means ‘in real life’, why we need acronyms for every blasted thing we say, I have no clue, but they are there. Anyway, I have some amazing IRL friends (it hurts me to use internet shortcuts so I won’t be doing that again), the thing is, I typically think of my virtual friends as real life friends as well.

After all, they’re real and are a part of my life in some way, so in my mind, they are as real as those I can touch. Except they live in my computer. They only know me by my words and in my words introversion is just a concept. I can extrovert the crap out of words on a screen.

So back to last night, I attempted to extrovert.

I kind of made an ass out of myself.

But I crossed a line I should probably cross a little more often. I tripped over that line, but damn it, I crossed it.

See, I went out to see a show, my son was running the sound for one of our local playhouses, it was a production of A Chorus Line (it was fabulous, by the way). During intermission I thought I recognized someone from my online world.

My husband and my son told me I should go say hello. I cursed them under my breath and sat back in my seat, but I was thinking about it. And guess what?

I fricking did it.

I walked over and asked if her name was Stephanie, it was. It was her. What in the actual eff had I just done! I was people-ing!

I was a little, maybe a lot rambly and nervous and I’m fairly certain I looked and sounded like an ass. Can you believe I was actually shaking?

She was just as adorably lovely as she is online, I may have been a bit star struck as well, I’ve been reading her awesome and hilarious bloggy-bits for quite some time. She introduced me to her daughter, I don’t know the etiquette for being introduced to daughters, I reached out and shook her hand, are you supposed to do that? I think I said she was lovely, but I can’t be sure, I might have just said lovely, or I might have simply said it in my head. I dunno. I was loony-toons and so out of my element, and I don’t even really have an element.

I remember thinking about how awful my hair looked, how weird my voice sounded coming out of my facehole, and how embarrassing it was to talk to people when diabetes has stolen more than a few of your teeth.

You wanna know something? I am so, so glad I told at voice inside my head to shut up. The one telling me not to say anything. The one telling me to stay put. The one telling me I would make a fool out of myself. Well little voice, I did it despite your whisperings.

I’ll be in recovery mode for about a week now, but I did it!

Stephanie, thank you for being gracious and lovely and taking the time to talk with me for a few moments, and thank you for not signaling security to remove the somewhat psycho chick away from your table . . .