Rapier's Wit

It is FINALS week at my son's university, much like the majority of colleges around the country. He has always put forth a lot of effort to achieve good grades. There are times, despite his studying and perfect attendance, the good grades do not materialize.  As a parent, I try to encourage him without nagging. He resides with me. I see him studying. He stays up late working on essays, homework, etc... I pray a lot for his success.  Today happens to be my mother's birthday. She died from ovarian cancer in June of 1981. It doesn't matter how many years pass, I miss her. There are times it is even more painful. She loved to sing. Her passion for music has always been evident in my family. On Facebook early this morning I posted that it was my mom's birthday. At the moment I hit send, I began to cry. It has been quite some time that I wept over missing her - not that it lessens what her absence means. I put out a wish for her to assure me she was with me. Ba...

Music is almost always playing in our house. My son often has ear buds in. He'll listen to a variety of tunes. Often, he will listen to variations of the same song. We sing in the car together. Mostly, on those occasions, we are tweaking the lyrics to humor ourselves. My kiddo was never in choir. The only concert he sang in was in 2nd grade Christmas. His struggle to maintain the choral stance on a riser was a true test. His Asperger's Syndrome diagnosis made it difficult. Still, he had love of music. He was in band (trombone) for a couple of years. It wasn't his true love, but he stuck with it until scholastic requirements meant he couldn't take band as an elective. I have a love of musical theater and talked him into auditioning for a couple of shows. He enjoyed it. It is structured socialization. Plus, it was mother-son time without me appearing to be a helicopter mom striving to have quality time. Mancub is now a sophomore in college. He transferred to the loc...

Mancub has never written an endless list of wants for Christmas or birthdays. He'll name a couple very specific items and be done. That was always a source of mild frustration when family members wanted to know what to buy him. I'd always buy the two or three items listed which left nada for the kinfolk to purchase. Gift cards aren't fun to unwrap, but manage to do the trick. This year was more difficult because my 19 year old, regardless of how many times I asked, didn't give me a list. He couldn't even muster a simple suggestion. Egads! Time was dwindling to shop aka order things online. I should tell you right now that while I do enjoy new footwear, clothes, this n' thats, shopping is not my favorite thing. Going to the grocery store is painful. Maybe it is sensory overload. Perhaps there's too much threat of running into people that'll hinder the task at hand. Whatever it is, shopping until I drop only takes a few minutes. OK, back to Chr...

Ah, the beginning of a new era. Please permit me to inject sound effects of screeching tires, needle scratching across a record. When my little bundle of love was born I had huge hopes for him. It's natural for any parent to imagine what great things their newborn will be capable of accomplishing. It's easy because that version of the future is so far off ... Now, insert the sound effect of a rocket blasting off or race cars speeding around the track. Time flies, yo'! Being the only parent consistently in my son's life, I admit to over protection. It is a fact. Mancub has heard my admission time and time again along with apologies for having done so. I am that mom who would have wrapped her child in bubble wrap in order for him to play football. You laugh. I am serious. When I dropped him off for his first day of Kindergarten I had to pull off the road to sob. Then, repeat until arriving at home to completely break down. He survived, but not without co...

The approach of Father's Day always gets me thinking. For one, it makes me miss my own father very much (he died in '99). That was the same year I went through my divorce. We were 800 miles away from the nearest family and I had to go through it without my rock, my father. You can tell me he was and always has been with me in spirit but those are just empty words when all one truly needs is to have the presence in human form of the embodiment of unconditional love. He wasn't a man of many words despite his articles in The Kankakee Journal's Voice of the People and other various publications. When it came to his kids, his thoughts were many, but his words profound and few. Our relationship hadn't always been ideal. As a little girl, I was undoubtedly his baby. The last born of the brood he had with my mother, he seemed determined to do right by me. We had a special bond. Then, when my mother passed away in '81, it was quickly severed and we hit years of rough...

Well ... he did it. My son graduated from high school. Through every trial and tribulation that the journey threw at him he managed to blaze his trail. No obstacle was too great for him. He persevered with tenacity that would make a lesser man crumble. Unlike his mother, my boy managed to graduate with a 3.5 grade point average. Dear old mom, me, graduated by the skin of her teeth and probably a little bit of pleading for passing grades. What I'm saying to you is that he is a far better student and person than the person who raised him. The experience is all so surreal to me. As the end of the school year approached and I started rifling through photos, certificates of accomplishment and honor, his life passed before my eyes ... my tear filled eyes. I can't recall the last time I shed so many tears. While the awards were laid out before me, I didn't fail to remember how hard he worked to achieve them. Not forgotten were the multiple IEP meetings (Individualized Educ...

There are many things in my life I have done wrong...totally screwed up and lived and learned from the mistake. However, the best thing I have ever done and continue to do is being a mom to Mancub. This month he graduates from high school. Fourteen years ago it seemed it would be the longest road. The most tumultuous, rigorous, painstaking journey has paid off. His tenacity has brought him to a major milestone. Ask me about my perfect boy and I'll go on for days telling you how amazing he is

I have covered that the special education resource teacher, Rose Barton, would prove to be a godsend to Mancub's life. The actual diagnosis for Asperger Syndrome wasn't instantaneous. It took great research and testing. Developing a proper IEP was hit upon swiftly as accommodations were necessary for Mancub to set upon a successful path. However ... There was a teacher who, in spite of a specific IEP (Individualized Education Program), wanted to challenge or continue to teach every student within her comfort zone rather than that of the student. I'm not saying this is not a difficult task for the teacher to make accommodations. The following is shared as an example of how challenging first grade was for us. Accommodations were met with argument and frustration: Mancub's first grade teacher was the most resistent to his IEP. This would be the inaugural stepping stones for executing it. The day before school started parents are invited to visit the classroom with ...

Mrs. Rose Barton was (she has retired) the Special Education resource teacher at Mt. Vernon Elementary when Mancub first met her. She swiftly consulted with me; arranged consult with the child psychologist at the school; set up observation of Mancub for herself and the child psychologist. It was determined that my darling son was certainly mis-categorized as EBD (emotional behavior disorder) by his former school. Both professionals determined that he was not acting out and perseverating to gain control. His surroundings were setting it off and he was clearly frustrated and upset. Not an expert in the field of autism, Mrs. Barton sought out help from her colleagues and researched Asperger Syndrome. When she first approached me about the possibility my son was 'special needs' I'll admit to feeling defeated and devastated. No lying. Immediately, I pictured my child being harassed and bullied for being different. I made some phone calls to friends and family members who were ...

April is Autism Awareness Month. My son has autism spectrum disorder / Asperger Syndrome. Giggling Mancub age 4.  I truly dislike tagging a label on him. To me, he is perfection. When someone pats me on the back for being a good mother I joke that God knew I'd be raising my son alone and provided me with a child who is easy to raise. When Mancub was in pre-school it was obvious he had issues not adhering to some guidelines. Quick change of schedule or altering the food menu would cause a melt down. He never had such tantrums when we were one on one so it made little sense to me. Then again, I am a creature of habit. It was rare for us to deviate. Once, he 'lost his mind' -- their words--  when they had to do self portraits and he colored his eyes green. His eyes are chocolate brown. The teacher argued with him that his eyes were not green. They had him look in a mirror to prove him wrong. He insisted that his eyes couldn't be brown because "Mommy has g...

This is the image that has gone viral. It is simple but speaks volumes.  Surely you've seen this and understand what it stands for and why it has gone viral. Marriage Equality. Meaning, allow same sex couple the benefits of marriage that hetero couples have. Pretty simple, but people get their panties in a wad over the definition of marriage. My sister and her wife on their 'wedding day' You'd think it was simple but there's some confusion and apparently people feel threatened by allowing loving couples to take commitment one step further with a legally binding contract to share and share alike. Sure, I simplified it. In my opinion, the powers that be like to complicate things far too much. This passage used frequently at weddings. It applies to marriage equality. I made this, by the way. My 18 year old son and I have had several conversations about everything under the sun. Some of those talks are painfully embarrassing to him because I am his mom. A ...

Lady Jane -- You will be missed This is dedicated to Maureen, Michael, Justin, Kris, Alisa, Kailey, Andrew and Ryan: Rainbow Bridge Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begi...

It's rather cliche' to say that I'm a work in progress.  Aren't we all? Sure, yours truly needs a lot more work than the average gal.  At least when I look in the mirror that is the resounding affirmation.  It's not my appearance, though that is part of it.  It's what goes on beneath my thinning mix of gray and brown locks.  The other day I posed a question on my Facebook wall about online dating site. So, who out there has found a decent human being to date through an online dating service? My curiosity is for .. uh, research. Yeah, that's it. If you're a long time reader of this blog then you know of the dating woes I've experienced at the hand of Match.com and eHarmony, as well as, meeting men the traditional way.  What came of that question in the thread was an unraveling of Marissa.  What was even more surprising (to me) was an outpouring of compassion, reassurance and thoughtfulness.  What I learned is that I don't see in myself what o...

I have been working too much.  That fact became glaringly obvious yesterday evening.  It's ridiculous that my son has suffered the consequences of the shortcomings of my work place and I have to fix it.  Tuesday brought me a day off. Finally.  I'd worked 8 days straight with the majority of those days keeping me away from home due to working until closing (9 PM). Mancub and I haven't spent much quantity or quality time together.  He sees that I am stressing.  He's not a selfish boy. He's compassionate and due to that, he has spared me any additional stress. Or so he thinks that is what he's doing.  But last night all that he's bottled up came to a head and he let out how much he hates his school and the kids that inhabit it.  He's a big kid, but a gentle giant. He's easily upset by rude remarks.  They know it and pick at him.  His efforts to ignore it are often futile.  The beasts know if they keep at him he will eventually displa...

When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be . My mother's name was Mary. Whenever I heard this song as a kid I presumed everybody knew my mom was a great listener and giver of advice. As I grew up I realized that Paul was singing about a more widely known woman named Mary. The mother I spawned from passed away in June of 1981. Just when I was in dire need of matronly advice, she was gone due to the ravages of cancer. I was a confused teen on the cusp of finally being permitted to date. Sixteen was the age at which girls in our family were allowed to have a boyfriend. All I'd had were crazy crushes that were never realized due to the restrictions placed upon me. Still, having my mother tell me how to handle myself or get over the painful heartache of nonrecip...

You must know me, I'm one of your secrets you must know me, I'm one of your secrets I belong to you. I belong to you. and you belong to me. You must know me, I'm one of your secrets. from what I see, you're trying to hard to keep it. well I belong to you.I belong to you. I belong to you. and you belong to me. Look at me, I'm your hearts keeper. meant for me 3:21AM, she will be here. oh yes she will and I belong to you. yes, I belong to you. I belong to you. and you belong to me. Look at me, I'm one of your secrets. from what I see, you're trying hard to keep it. but I belong to you. I belong to you. I belong to you. and you belong to me. you belong to me. you belong to me.

The saying above was borrowed this from my cousin on Facebook. I saw it only moments ago.  It says exactly what Friday in Chicago was meant to be.  Captured in time -- beautiful moments never forgotten

Check in time came August 5, 1994 at Olympia Fields Hospital was supposed to be 6 AM via the emergency room entrance. It seemed no one was alerted to this arrangement. By 7 AM we were filling out the necessary paperwork. Between the grumbling of hunger from having not eaten since the prior evening and the nervousness of what was about to happen, my stomach was a mess. Once checked in and brought to the maternity ward around 8 AM, I was informed that the labor and delivery rooms were occupied.  Coincidentally with women from our Lamaze class. They'd elected to receive epidurals which was making their labor time longer.  I was assured that my grueling time on the thin mattress/gurney like bed wouldn't be all day. This would eventually become a bold face lie.  All the necessary IV hookups were made.  The waiting began.  It didn't take too long for me to see Pitocin aided contractions registering on the monitor.  Nothing major.  I figured this would be...

To say I am an overprotective mother would be an understatement.  Being such a person has done a disservice to my son and myself.  If there was a club for being a worry wart, I would be their poster child.  When Mancub was very small I wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap before sending him out to play.  Clearly my parents' parenting style didn't rub off on me. They let us climb high trees, jump off the porch into a pile of leaves and some how we managed to remain intact. Mom and Dad may have been worried sick each time we set out to ride our bikes in a look-ma!-no hands manner down the hill just to say we did it, but if there was concern, they never let on.  My siblings and I joke that in the summers mom would lock us out of the house until it was dark.  As long as a police car didn't escort us home or no call from the hospital was received, she was content.  We learned during that time just how burglar proof our home was not.  We'd sneak in the ba...

Morning comes too early for me on most days.  I go to bed at a reasonable hour mainly due to the fact that even if I turn in late, dawn breaks and pushes my tuchus out of bed regardless of how exhausted I may be.  It sucks.  On rare occasions sleep will resume after a trip to the bathroom, but those instances are much like trying to catch a shooting star.  You see, my brain clicks on with the light of day and I'm unable to shut it down. You could say my mind has a mind of its own.  And lately, I have had too much on my mind ... excessive amounts of what ifs and why nots. As I announced in my previous post, I have a young man staying with me for the majority of the summer.  He has family locally who are making plans with him, but Maison du Rissa is the base camp.  His comfort and happiness are partial contributors to my brain running on over time.  Giving him the unquestionable sense that he is welcome and loved is a priority.  He's still ad...