image via madebyfolks.tumblr.com/ My son J.R. was diagnosed with autism at age three. On that horrific day I came home and collapsed in bed, crying. I cried myself to sleep, woke the next morning, then repeated the process. For three days. I felt as if I were thrust into The Octogon to face
photography by Alison Frank The last time I sat down to write, I could hear beautiful noises from across the hall. You were in your room, making crashing and exploding sounds to animate a war between Ironman and a Transformer. Starsceam, I think. You spied me tapping at my keyboard, then bounded toward me- all
photo by Alison Frank Photography It isn't lost on this sign-seeking girl that Autism Awareness Month begins on a day dedicated to pranks. Joke's on me; I get it- I'm the fool. Twenty-four hours later, the punchline to the gut persists as World Autism Awareness DAY commences. Ha! Over the years I've gone from
Boy oh boy, was ten fantastic. I want to say it was J.R.'s best year. He blossomed socially, trudged through academically, and held it together mentally. Professionals (okay, his teachers, who I bribe) even threw around the terms perseverant and scientific to describe J.R.'s attitude toward his studies. At home, his independence is emerging; I am hopeful, for
Once again, thanks to John Lasseter, I’ve left a Disney Pixar film- reeling (pardon the pun). I’ve been crying my eyes out for the past hour and forty-two minutes and I’m not sure if it’s because (a) I could never, EVER, EVER conceive of anything more clever than Inside Out if my life depended on
photo credit: Etsy Seller OutNerdMe I thought we were in the clear. I mean, it’s March for goodness' sake. Rewind to Christmas, a good one for J.R., which meant my hubby and I were able to breathe a tad easier and drink a little less. And thanks to Amazon.com’s clever wish list
I can picture it like it was yesterday. I returned home from receiving (but most definitely not processing) J.R.’s autism diagnosis to find a package at my door. With my infant car seat carrier weighing on one arm (ouch) and my three-year old tugging hard at the other (ugh), the Abercrombie shopping bag would
If you’re a mom like me with young kids at home, you can’t even think about New Year’s Resolutions until the sweet sound of the school (late) bell chimes. Today, Tuesday, was my January 2nd, having spent all of my January 1st attempting this new-fangled activity people call “exercising.” I blogged today because the few areas of
Last weekend was supposed to be mine. Every drop of it. My charity was honored at a wonderful women's event on Friday night, and I knew how spent I'd feel afterward: a chick like me needs to work hard at presenting her best self, believe me! For this reason, I packed the rest of my
We all have those moments (ok sometimes minutes or hours or days) when we ask ourselves “Why me?” Sometimes the question comes in the form of “@*%& WHY ME???!!!!!!!” and I totally get that. My most recent “Why me?” moment? Only my kid would wake up thirty minutes before we were to have our holiday
