The Prodigal Blog Owner Returns

I know. I know. It's terrible.

I didn't post a single update in February...which, ironically, is because there was so much to update on but there was also loads and loads of stress.

There was my son's birthday--which was a blast. We went to the Museum of Glass in Tacoma and they gave him a super awesome dragon goblet in recognition of him coming on his birthday. Then, we went to Journey 2, and then finally went to Chuck E. Cheese. We sucked the fun out of that day. The kids were all exhausted by the time we got back.

Then, just before Valentine's Day, my husband left for a business trip to Singapore and was gone for a week and a half. My son went bonkers without my husband here.  It was sooooo stressful.  Then, the husband came home and he and T rushed to get T's special school project on electricity done.  Then, my parents visited and we went to Great Wolf Lodge and played at the indoor waterpark for several days. Finally, we got back in time for T's Pinewood Derby.

But wait... that's not all... I also submitted to three different submission calls during February and the last few weeks.  I also signed a contract for a novella, but I'm not sure when I'm allowed to announce.

Also, on a less fun level, I had a migraine for two weeks straight which I ended up kicking by getting a massage.

February and March haven't been fun times.  I'm now on week 2 of insomnia.

I keep hoping March will go a little easier on me than February but... it just hasn't.  I feel like every day I start out behind. I just can't seem to keep up.

Anyway, I'm going to try to be better about updating.  I'm not sure how much I'll have to say, though. I'm sort of burnt out on life right now.  I feel a little adrift actually.  Every so often I remember that I never sent out my Christmas cards... not even late... that's how each day feels--like I've fallen a hundred projects behind.

On February 9th, we were talking to my son about being tested and getting the official diagnosis of Aspergers before it's dropped as a diagnosis. (The governing board over the diagnostic codes has decided to get rid of several diagnoses including Aspergers.)  T said that it won't change whether or not he has it so there's no point to it.  Then, B asked if she has Aspergers too.  It might seem unreal but we'd never had that talk with her.  We've spoken of Autism when she was around and we've never tried to hide it.  I mean we ate, drank, slept Autism until she turned seven.  I don't think I can convey how fragile a conversation that feels---the conversation where you tell your daughter she has Autism and discuss what that means.

While T identifies as an Aspie and is proud of it... we warned B that there are stigmas attached to the word Autism. We asked if she wanted people to know that she has it or not and she doesn't really want the label attached to her anymore. B doesn't like to stand out.  She doesn't like a lot of attention.  So, I've changed my bio and so on to reflect that.

I don't think you can understand this weird new world I'm in unless you've been there. I identify as a parent of an Autistic child. I mentor others on raising children with Autism.  I hold nothing back. That's who I am. For years I was so obsessed with it--that's all of what I was.  I was running on adrenalin.  It's weird to now think that I'll need to step back and not say, "I'm the mother of two Autistic children" to people I meet.  Who am I if I'm not that person?

I guess it's not so strange to redefine yourself as you pass on to a different stage of your life, but this just took me by surprise.  On the one hand, I'm excited that B is so high-functioning that we don't NEED to tell people anymore.  On the other hand, that was my goal, my focus, for nearly a decade.  On March 8th of 2003, we first were told she most likely had Autism.  Our lives changed forever.  Now, on February 9th of 2012, it changed again. This time it was her choice.

When I went in to get the massage, I listed "writer" as my occupation. It was the first time I've focused on who I am outside of my kids on forms like that.  Normally, I explain the stress and migraines as being related to OCD and raising two Autistic children.  This time, I didn't.

It's a weird world I'm entering in.  I'm just not sure what to think of a world where I talk about me... where I'm defined by my own success and not all the work and intervention I've done with the kids.  It's... frightening.

In other writing-related news, I've now been repped by Sarah for a year.  Cool, huh?