I expect that my autistic son will have trouble fitting in with people he doesn’t know. But I’m not accustomed to feeling that way myself! I didn’t have any meaningful dialogue with ANYONE there, except the hostess. Everyone seemed to just … move away from us? Eventually, after making small talk with half a dozen other parents that didn’t go beyond saying hello, I figured I was just there to keep my son out of trouble. He had a wonderful time. He had cake. Then we left.

On the drive home, I started to think, perhaps it’s a blessing that we have such a large family. I’ve often wondered how different things would be for my son if he were an only child, and I had all the time in the world to devote to him and his needs. I’ve come to the conclusion that it would kind of suck, and we’d probably be terribly lonely. Thank goodness we have lots of other kiddos right here at home to play with every day!

Here’s where things are right now. The teenager finished up the school year and passed all her finals, amazingly. She even got an A on one of them! Thankfully, she’s only going to have to repeat one class in order to graduate on time – government. And, bleah, I remember hating government in high school, too. We didn’t take it until our senior year, though. Anyway. Finished up the school year, and ran out of the school without looking back. She really wants to switch high schools, but honestly, I don’t think it’s the best idea. Even though she has a handful of friends she knew in middle school at the other high school, she’s still going to end up gravitating toward the misfit crowd. At least HERE, she’s close by. I can be at her school in five minutes, as opposed to twenty. And since she’s not of driving age, it’s not like she can get herself there every day – one of us would have to drive her. And as much as I’ve tried to figure out a way to do that, I just don’t see how it can be done, since I have four other kids to get to school as well. Most importantly, though, I think she needs to suck it up and face her problems! I keep telling her she’ll run into dicky people at every school, and it’s going to be up to her to rise above it and make good decisions. We’ll have to have a great big discussion about all of this when she gets home – she’s been away for about a month. It’s been awesome for both of us, really.

The little ones are doing okay. My son has been driving us batty lately with these new vocal tics he’s just picked up – also known as screaming his ASS off at random moments. Well, it’s not screaming so much, more like annoying loud noises. Sometimes, he sings at the top of his lungs in a crazy, throaty, death metal voice. It would crack me up if it didn’t attract SO MUCH ATTENTION. In addition to all of that, he’s found entertainment lately in pissing off his little sisters – teasing them, kicking their seat in the car, etc. Now, I see that as typical sibling behavior. It might be annoying, but I really can’t chalk it up to him having autism! We just returned from a long road trip out to California to visit Disneyland – and the whole trip was super fun. I’m so lucky to have married into such a fine family. We stayed at my husband’s aunt’s house, and she spoiled my kids so much that they CRIED when it was time to come home. School starts here in just about two weeks, and for the first time in history, I’m going to have a little bit of alone time. Yep, the littlest ones are starting kindergarten. People keep asking me, “What are you going to do with yourself?” I don’t have a clue. Hopefully, A LOT. Hopefully, my house will be cleaner, dinner will get made on time, and I’ll return our library books before they’re two weeks overdue.

My husband and I are coming up on our 5th wedding anniversary. Five years since we said our vows in front of our dearest friends. Five years of joy and tears and chaos and laughter and love. And it seems like it was just a couple of years ago. Hell, I’m wearing the same t-shirt today that I wore the day before our wedding, when my girlfriends and I made a vat of fruit salad and hot glued my veil together. Time moves SO quickly when you have a shitload of children, I’ve discovered. At this rate, they’ll be in college before the milk sours. And I still love that man SO MUCH. He drives me insane a lot of the time, and he’s a control freak and a half, but I’m so very thankful that fate brought us together.

I guess that’s it. My life doesn’t change that much, I guess – still doing that whole parenting thing. What’s new with you?

My daughter. Jeez. Where do I begin? I’ll start by saying RIGHT NOW, things are pretty good. Things are looking up. And yesterday, I saw the biggest sign of progress I’ve seen in a long, long time.

She’s depressed, but I’m beginning to see that she’s more manipulative than anything else. And she’s completely heartbroken over this boy who influenced her to do a laundry list of stupid things. We’ve had a solid week of HELL with that girl. Yesterday, though, she wrote a letter to her ex-boyfriend. She told him she loved him, but that she was letting him go, and even though she knew she was falling, she had lots of people who love her, waiting to catch her. And then she gave it to him. I can’t even begin to tell you how pleased I am with this. I’m so proud that she’s finding some inner strength to stand up for what’s good and right. She’s being considerate of herself and of her family and friends for once, instead of thinking of this lameass boy. And she’s finally seeing her own future, outside of a relationship with him. THANK GOD.

So, that’s where we are right now. We’re seeing a new, WONDERFUL shrink, who will hopefully outline a plan of action for getting our child back to where she wants and needs to be. And I can only hope there will be a ripple effect throughout the family, so that when the girlchild gets better, we ALL start to get better. Because it’s definitely affecting all of us. Everyone is walking around pissed off and high strung. Yay! Happy days in this household, NOT.

It’s getting better. Think happy thoughts for us, okay?

Last weekend, I went to a party at a friend’s house, and I chatted with a cute, young-ish guy for quite a long time. Eventually, the conversation turned to birthdays, and we discovered that three of us in the room had birthdays coming up in the next week, myself included. I mentioned that I was turning 37, and the guy I was talking to turned to me and said, “Wow – good for YOU!” ::insert sad trumpet sound:: He went on to say, “I would have guessed you were maybe thirty – NEVER thirty-SEVEN!” I told this story to my husband and he laughed and called me a cougar.

My sister and I were talking about our ages, and we seem to be on the same page about one thing for sure: neither of us feel like we’ve got decades of experience under our belts. She said she feels like she’s been screwing around, not paying attention, and she’s missed out on everything – like she looked in the mirror one day and saw wrinkles and gray hair, and she’s thinking, “How long was I asleep?”

In some ways, I can relate. I mentioned to her that I can’t even remember most of my 20s, when I was married to my first husband. The memories I have revolve around my daughter – I can remember exactly how she looked, what she was wearing, the TV shows she watched, and the friends she had when I was 25. But I really can’t recall how I looked at 25. Was my hair long? Short? Did I have a job? Who did I hang out with then? I have very little recollection of it. One thing I’m certain of: I probably was wearing overall shorts.

My twenties were such a dark time for me personally, mentally, psychologically. I was in a bad relationship and battling major inner demons – I guess I’ve blocked out a lot of it, at least selectively. It’s easy enough for me to conjure up a memory of painting an elaborate mural on my daughter’s bedroom wall, but I can’t see MYSELF in that mental picture. I’m sure that’s the reason I don’t feel my age – how can I be thirty-seven? I should be turning THIRTY right about now! I’m sure I skipped a few years in there somewhere.

I’m so incredibly thankful that I’m PRESENT in my life now. I feel so fortunate and blessed to be among wonderful people – I have the best friends, the best sister, and I’m married to such a good guy. Furthermore, I’m very thankful that I’ve gotten to a point (to an AGE, I guess!) where I can recognize that my first husband was actually a pretty decent guy, even if we were bad for each other at that stage in our lives. I think thirty-seven is going to be good for me. Maybe even look good ON me!

Things with the girlchild have been ROUGH lately, to put it mildly. She went through the heartache of a one-day breakup with the boyfriend she insisted to me was just a platonic friend. They’re back together now; whew! (Did you detect my subtle sarcasm, there?) During that one day, though, she really lost it at school – ditched a bunch of her classes, cried all day, and did some things that caused the school to believe she was a suicide risk. A couple of days later, you’d never realize any of that had occurred. She was…fine? One week after that, she got in trouble at school again, for KISSING said boy in the commons. This earned her several days of detention. And one week after that, she made a last second decision on the way INTO detention to SKIP detention with a friend of hers. This little act of insubordination earned her a SUSPENSION. Yes. My little girl, who until recently had NEVER been in trouble, and who had never even been in detention in her life, is now that girl. The one who causes teachers and security guards to raise an eyebrow and scowl.

And weirdly, these things have all happened on Thursdays. TODAY is Thursday, and I’m just keeping my fingers crossed and praying that we’ll get through the day without any phone calls from the dean. What does my child have against Thursdays?

It hasn’t ALL been rough, though. I’m beginning to feel as if we’re turning a corner. We’ve started seeing a new therapist who seems pretty proactive when it comes to finding the root of all these problems. We’re exploring the idea that there might be more going on here than textbook adolescent angst and depression. I’m trying to keep a journal of day-to-day events and the moods that go along with them, so we can try to see if a pattern emerges. And even in the midst of all this school-related drama and punishment, my daughter seems happier to me than she has been for awhile.

I’m really encouraged by the phone call I got from her school counselor this morning. They’ve decided to pull her out of a couple of prep classes where she’s really struggling, and put her in the standard classes. With this schedule change, she’s going to have an open period which they’ve decided to fill by making her an aide to kids with special needs. I think this is going to be fabulous for everyone concerned. For as much trouble as my daughter gives us, she is AMAZING when it comes to interacting with special needs kids. She is super patient, gentle, and compassionate with our son – something you don’t often see with 14-year-old girls – and the special needs kids at her school gravitate toward her naturally as well. They seem to seek her out, like they instinctively know that she’ll treat them with kindness. I have the most darling picture of her dancing with a boy with Down syndrome at the winter dance – both of them have huge smiles! I think this could really spark something inside my child, which would please me SO MUCH. I would love to see her realize some need to make a difference in the world, and find something to hold herself accountable to.

So that’s where we are at the moment.

So anyway, I drove him to the doctor this afternoon, which was weird in itself. I never drive us ANYWHERE – I can’t even remember the last time my husband was in the passenger seat of my vehicle while sober. He moaned and groaned every time I hit a bump or took a corner too quickly, and by the time we got to the clinic, I had a case of the giggles. Bad, unsympathetic wife. And after we got out of the car, we realized that he needed to lean on me in order to walk – which just made the situation seem that much sillier to me. My linebacker-esque husband mashing me into the parking lot by my shoulder was just cracking me up! And once inside, we found that it was easier for him to walk if he just followed me, and put his hands on both my shoulders. So, we walked through the clinic with him hunched over, halfway bent over, and pushing me along by the shoulders. I felt like we were in a horse costume!

And then my husband’s very Asian doctor was cracking me up with his demonstration of how muscles seize up and contract when you injure them – he sort of acted it out like a skit, complete with crazy facial expressions. By the time we finished up with the doctor, the clinic finally found a wheelchair for my husband that would fit him, and I pushed him to the pharmacy. I stepped out of line for a moment to snap a picture of him looking extra pitiful, and the woman standing in line in front of us glared at both of us. I laughed.

Once we left the clinic, prescriptions in hand, we decided we were both starving. The muscle relaxers were kicking in, and my hubby was actually feeling a lot better, so we didn’t have to do our horse imitation anymore. We hit a nearby Mexican restaurant and had an absolutely delightful dinner together, and talked and laughed all through dinner and all the way back home. My husband actually got a little mushy, thanking me for taking care of him all day, and telling me how happy he was that he married me. Awww! I sure wasn’t thinking we’d have a date night when I saw him laid out on the floor this morning!

Please don’t assume something is about you. Chances are, it’s not. I know it’s hard for all of us to hear, but the world really isn’t revolving around each of us. Few people have specific targets in mind as we go through life. Sometimes a post is just a post. MOST of the time, I’d wager. So before you think to yourself, “Well, what did she mean by that?” or “Is that supposed to be about me?” Just…stop. Step away from the internet, go for a walk in the sunshine, eat some noodles.

If it’s really under your skin, and you just cannot move forward in life without finding out the intent of whatever’s bugging you, here’s what you need to do. CALL THAT PERSON ON THE PHONE. Have an actual conversation, comprised of spoken words. Perhaps you don’t have that person’s phone number. I understand. Here’s what to do in that case. Find their email address, and send them an email that says, “Hey! I need to talk to you about something. Can you give me a call at ____ ? Thanks!” (Insert your phone number there.)

Here is what NOT to do. Do NOT post a vague comment or tweet, laced with hostility. Do NOT confront them publicly, on their Facebook wall, on Twitter, or in their blog comments. Do NOT write a passive aggressive note to them. (You could end up here!) It doesn’t matter how much you pepper your post with uppercase letters, winking smilies, and lols – people will misinterpret your tone and interpret what you’re saying in a completely different way than you mean. Pick up the goddamn phone and have a conversation like an adult. Think to yourself, “How would I have handled this problem if we lived in the year 1989?” Here’s how: you’d pick up the phone and call them up. You’d bitch about it to your husband, not to the entire world wide web. You’d have done all of this while wearing Shine Free purple mascara and 5″ high bangs, plastered into place with Bold Hold hairspray. But that’s what you would have done.

If everyone would just follow this philosophy – first, don’t assume it’s about you – and second, don’t try to get to the bottom of things through your keyboard – SO MUCH DRAMA could be averted. We could change the world, people.

Here’s my Vent Of The Day. Oldest child didn’t get up on time. The excuse is always the same, “I set my alarm, but for some reason, it didn’t go off!” I sympathize with her, for real. I have no idea why they make high school start at the crack of dawn. Elementary-aged kids have such an easier time getting up when it’s still dark – they should have elementary school start early and high school start later. But they don’t. Anyway. She didn’t get up on time. So instead of rushing around and heading out the door and hightailing it to school, she got dressed and then sat on the couch and pouted.

Um, yeah. I don’t understand this problem solving approach, either. Eventually, I realized she was sitting on the couch and asked her what was up. She didn’t have an answer for me as to why she hadn’t left yet, beyond, “I don’t know!” She somehow had herself convinced that if I didn’t call the school and excuse her immediately, that they wouldn’t even allow her into the classroom. Like they would just shut the door in her face. Like they would prefer that she miss an ENTIRE 99-minute class, rather than just miss the first 25 minutes.

This required my husband actually driving her to school and walking her into the front office, where we could get some clarification on the tardy policy. He called me up on his way to work and said, “GUESS WHAT, babe. You won’t believe this. But they’ll actually LET HER INTO CLASS even if she’s late.” I know! I was stunned, too. (Not really.)

Tomorrow begins finals, at 7 in the morning. Tonight, I’m putting about three more alarm clocks in her room!