Asperger's it is....

I'm sharing pictures today. Pictures of my baby. My baby who was diagnosed with Asperger's recently. I've blogged about this before -- here

It doesn't really mean anything to me. Not in the way you'd think it would. I'm not sad, or disappointed, or even angry. I'm relieved.

I always knew he was different. Even as a newborn he was different than any other baby I'd ever encountered. He didn't cry. Not often anyway. When he did, it was because he wanted to be left alone. I'd put him in his crib and he'd lay there for an hour or two, just cooing and gurgling at his

mobil.

It doesn't mean anything because it doesn't change anything. He is who  he's always been. He just has a new label. A label, by the way, that doesn't define him.

Just like he always has, he will be sad sometimes because his peers don't understand him. They don't understand when he misses important social cues -- like facial expressions, body language, sarcasm, or teasing that's taken literally, even when it's just typical kid fun.

He will still get excited about his accomplishments. He will still laugh and play and be silly. He will still make me laugh like no one else can.

He will still get angry when people don't understand what he's trying to communicate. Because he sometimes has difficulty finding the right words and using them appropriately. Because sometimes he doesn't have words for how he's feeling.

He will still need to hide from the world when he can't process what's going on around him. When people are angry, or the environment is disorganized. Just a short break to regroup and identify his emotions. Then he'll still come back and try again.

He will still make silly faces when I want him to smile at the camera. He will still be my sunshine. He will still hug me and tell me I'm the best mom in the whole world. 

Nothing has changed. Our world is still the same as it's always been. He's my baby. And that, is all that really matters.

Writers Block

I want to blog.

Every day that goes by I want to post. But I don’t. No matter how hard I try, the words won’t come. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve composed two or three sentences, made my way to the computer, and suddenly found my mind completely blank.

It hurts. It rakes at my soul. It laughs at me.

There’s all this stuff inside my brain, stuff that’s entirely unique to me, stuff that makes me who I am, and I can’t get it out. It’s stuck. I close my eyes and see words, hear the jumbled whispers of my thoughts, and when I try to express them, like a playful puppy daring you to catch it they evade me at the last minute.

So I sit and think in my black hole of nothing-- too frustrated and tired to even attempt to find the door out and wonder what to do next. Wanting so badly to blog about all the things going on in my life. Raising kids, J being tested for Autism tomorrow, annoyances about family, how I'm coping with health issues about family, health issues about me, why I don't want to be in my house anymore, why I think I need a new job, etc.

But I'm blank. I've got nothing to give. I'm chasing words that continue to elude me.

As writers, do you ever experience this? Do you ever find your thought process so disorganized that you can’t pinpoint a cognitive thought to put on paper? What do you do when this happens?

The best cornbread I've ever had is mine...

Alright folks – you have my friend girl Maasiyat over at Inside the Bipolar Mind to thank for this one. She wrote a post called Maters, Taters, Beans and Greens and the first thing I thought of was cornbread. The second thing I thought of is that I believe my cornbread is the best I’ve ever had.

I got the original recipe from my mother’s 1970 something Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook. Since then I’ve managed to tweak and perfect it to my own tastes. The result is I have the lightest, fluffiest, butteriest cornbread I’ve ever had. Now, I’m gonna share it with you.

Yeah, I totally just made up the word butteriest. It’s mine too. You can’t have it.

First you’ll need to gather supplies. You will need:

1 cup flour

1/4 cup of sugar

4 teaspoons baking powder

¾ teaspoon salt

1 cup of cornmeal

2 eggs lightly beaten

1 cup of milk

¼ cup of BUTTER FLAVOR shortening (Needs to be at room temperature)

½ stick butter

1-10 inch cast iron skillet. No exceptions! This is the key to amazing cornbread!

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Add ½ stick of butter to your cast iron skillet and place it in the oven.

Next, you sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.  Add the cornmeal and blend it well with a fork or whisk. Pour in your two lightly beaten eggs and the milk. Blend it all well with your whisk or fork and then add in the shortening. It’s best to use a whisk for this. It does a much better job of breaking up the shortening, allowing it to blend evenly throughout the mixture.

Once the butter has completely melted in the skillet, add your cornbread batter to the skillet. Bake at 425 for 20-25 minutes. The top should be slightly cracked and it should be just beginning to pull away from the sides. If it's completely pulled from the sides, you've over cooked it.

You can either leave it in the skillet and serve after it cools a little or, you can loosen the edges with a knife and flip it out into a plate. For me, the warmer the better; especially since I typically butter the already buttery cornbread and then drizzle it with honey.

Hey! Don’t chastise me! I said it was good. I never said it was good for you!

Sometimes, when I’m feeling adventurous, I add little things to it. A can of corn and a can of diced chilies make a great Mexican cornbread. A handful or two of diced cooked shrimp, a little Cajun seasoning, and some shredded cheese makes a great Cajun cornbread and goes great with my gumbo. 

Sorry there are no pics. It is 100 degrees outside. I’m not turning on my oven for anyone. Not even you.

But, I love you. Really I do.

** NOTES:  Margarine doesn't work in place of the butter or the shortening. Margarine has water in it so what happens is you end up with a denser finished product. Cornbread should be light and fluffy and almost melt in your mouth. Trust me, I tried it with margarine and it was No Bueno! Also, don't substitute butter where I tell you to use shortening. Again, it's a texture thing. Also, if you have too much butter going on the butter will burn the outside of the cornbread before the inside is done.

If you're not sure, ask me and I'll tell you.

It’s just bad parenting….

I try.

Really, I try.

Yet, for the life of me, I simply cannot understand what motivates some people.

They’re everywhere; children who are products of parents who are not together anymore, children who are being raised by spiteful and hate filled mothers who use every opportunity to fill their children with the same hatred they harbor towards their former partners.

Ok, so maybe I shouldn't say mothers here. But, they're the biggest offenders. In all fairness though, there are crappy dads out there who do the same thing.

Why would you tell your child anything, true or not, negative about the other parent? Do you honestly subscribe to the belief that the person you’re hurting is the former partner?

If so, you’re dumber than I thought. The only person you’re hurting is your child. Think about it. You spew your filth at your child about what a crappy father they have, you lie about it when confronted, and then you tell your child not to tell the other parent what you’ve spewed at them. You do that, and then you expect me to believe that you aren’t trying to hurt your child? If the child is the only one to know what you’ve said, who else could it have been said to hurt?

You fill your children with hate and then wonder why they’re angry.

You fill your children with hate and then wonder why they don’t respect you.

You fill your children with hate and give them to society to deal with when the monster becomes bigger than you.

You fill your children with hate and then you attach a label and medicate them unnecessarily

You do all of this and then you expect the rest of us to feel sorry for you when it blows up in your face.

And the monster grows when your verbal wall begins to crumble around you….

You spew more hate, thinking maybe you didn’t do enough damage already….

Then you scream that you’re the better parent….

Shame on you.

You don’t deserve them.

There is absolutely no good reason for one parent to bash the other in the presence of their child.

Never.

If you think I’m talking to you, then I probably am.

And, what makes me feel like I can point fingers here? Because J has one of the crappiest bio-dads on the planet. He abandoned him twice. He even terminated his rights because he didn't want to pay child support. But, never, ever, never have I intentionally bashed his sperm donor in front of him. After everything he's done, I still tell Jack that jerkface loves him but he just has some problems in his life he needs to take care of that keep him from being the kind of dad J wants him to be.

Can you imagine the consequences if I were to tell him the truth? That his biodad doesn't want to be a dad to him, but he is still a dad to his siblings? What kind of mother would I be if I hurt him like that?

Think about it moms (and dads). Who are you really trying to hurt? What damage are you really doing? Are you really prepared to deal with the fallout? Do you think it's fair that you force your children to fight your battles with your former spouse? Really?

Get real with yourselves....