Dispatches From Hellpeckersville-Poor Poor Pitiful Me

(6 PM – promoted by TMC)

Yeah, I know it’s what some people think. If I say: I am disabled, I have a son on the autism spectrum and my family lives with my parents so that I can care for my mom, who has dementia, it sounds grim, and if I’m honest, sometimes it is. Sometimes.

Being stuck in the house for long stretches, potty duty, phone calls from school, fibro flares, the entirety of the situation of seven of us living here together, and having to get along, well…that fucks with my head a little, but it’s not my world. I can’t allow that. I can’t stay miserable. I can achieve it, just can’t sustain it.

But most days, we do a lot of laughing here at chez triv. Okay, some of it is inappropriate laughter, but what would you do if your mama suddenly started talking to you like a ’40s gun moll? Because she knows a guy, see? And he’s gonna take care of you! You got that? That’s right!…Yeah, I bite the inside of my cheeks and spin on my heel and get the hell out of her sight then bust out laughing. She gets really cheesed if you laugh right at her, she’s serious. She’s not all that aggressive anymore, but she still does know a guy… or at least she thinks so.

My kids are fun almost every day. What can I tell you about my sweet Baboo without you thinking I made the kid up? From the time he was in pre-K he’s been my little helper, now he’s about to turn twelve and I don’t know what I would do without him. Not only does he do every little thing I need him to– he helps his brother with his homework, he waits on me when I am achy, he is scary smart and starting to beat his mama with some Jeopardy! answers.

And Dan? My gawd, that boy may have ink in his blood, give him a sharpie and he will draw you anything. Give him polymer clay, you’ll get a Simpson or a Pixar character or whatever is striking his fancy this week. This week it’s cel animation. We don’t have a lot of money, but I swear I’d sell my blood to keep that kid in art supplies. When he was first diagnosed the doc told us he might never speak beyond echolalia…hahahaha. Joke’s on him. Some days we can’t shut that boy up.

And not being able to be the active mom, I’ve had to look for other ways to be “fun” and I am. We do crafts, we’ve done science projects, we play games, I’m a reading mom, and I do enjoy reading aloud. I’ve bought partner poems, and gotten my hands on out of print books for specific stories I know I read well. They both got books for Christmas. And we make goodies.

This Christmas they got some silicone molds, small ones, some in the shape of lego bricks and men. They were the best fun! We made gummie candy with them. I wish you could have seen my boys carefully pouring the warm goo into those molds. Even better? The sight of two bricks being shoved into a smiling mouth.

Me and Cleetus? When he comes home at night the house is usually quiet. That’s kind of nice, really. We get to talk, watch a little @midnight, maybe something I’ve DVR’d for him or a movie. We play poker with my nephew and his SO, and my sister gem56 every other Saturday night. Once in a while we even leave the house together. Usually it’s to the doctor or to shop, but hey…it’s out. We’re still pretty happy. We don’t look at our life as grim.

So, no, not pitiful me. I don’t wish my situation on anybody, chronic pain sucks, dementia sucks, calls from school because your kid had a meltdown suck…but life is what it is. And mine is full of joy too.