Arriving at Your Own Door

Love After Love

The time will come when,
with elation,
you will greet yourself
arriving at your own door,
in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say,
sit here.

Eat.

You will love again
the stranger who was yourself.

Give wine.
Give bread.

Give back your heart
to itself,

to the stranger who has loved you
all your life,

whom you ignored
for another,

who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs,
the desperate notes,
peel your own image
from the mirror.

Sit.

Feast on your life.

-- Derek Walcot

Just heard the above poem on Oprah's soul series on XM radio. Not sure I have the spacing correct. Oh Google, I love you so.

**and Oprah.
***and Picasso.

Nine Letter Word for Nuts

Riley had her first all day play date on Friday. My friend's daughter stayed with us while her mom had a lengthy appointment.

I let the girls go off on their own, but hovered within earshot.

Soon I heard Riley bark at her new friend, "L. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" (How many times has Riley heard that one)?

I intervened, explaining to Riley that L. was paying attention, (she'd been looking over the toys in Riley's room) and that she was listening.

Perplexed, Riley said to me sweetly, "But I thought that was rude, Mommy?"

No room for give. No room for grey.

At another point, Riley got frustrated because L. didn't want to stand there and watch her do a game on the computer. I noted L. looking at her cross ways.

"Riley, why don't we read L. your cat book?" I suggested.

We did.

L. was great. She really seemed to get it.

On the page that talked about how some kids with Asperger's have advanced vocabularies, L. said, "I learned a new word from Riley today."

"You did?" I asked. "What one?"

L. tried to think of the word, and said tentatively, "Tentacles?"

"Like on an octopus?" I asked.

"No. Like on the back of the cat."

"Testicles?" I asked.

"Yeah!" L. nodded.

That oughta make her mom happy.

They wrapped it up by watching Hairspray and eating popcorn. Everyone danced to You Can't Stop the Beat.

Riley learns so much with each new social experience. Overall it was a great success. (Little L. got a lot out of it too).

Jenny's Radio Debut

We were at a writing workshop in the Colorado mountains.

Jenny Rough seemed nice. Really nice. A really really nice person.

One day, halfway through the week, I saw her shoot a look at a fellow participant. The woman had been complaining about Jenny's bug repellent(the smell and possible toxic effects).

I raised my eyebrow.

Nice Girl has an edge.

I knew I was gonna like her.

Check out Jenny's "edge" in her radio debut on WAMU, the station that carries NPR in DC(scroll down 'til you find her).

Jenny,

You so crazy!

I love it!

Just So We're Clear.....

Todd comes home from work and presents me with a delicious chocolate upon chocolate cookie extravaganza. My eyes go big.

"Where did you get this?" I gasp. Me loves me some chocolate.

My husband, the pharmacist, looks sheepish.

"You don't want to know." He mumbles.

Sucking in my breath, I can't believe it. He actually brought me a goodie provided by a drug rep from a pharmeceutical company? What is wrong with him? Seriously?

For those who don't know...reps from Big Pharma are all over just about every department in every hospital in every city, bringing not only gadgets, pads of paper with their logo, travel mugs, pens, etc., but also lunch, dinner and other snacks(overworked hospital staff love when reps come with food) in an effort to push their products. And this is just the tip of the ice berg. You would keel over if you knew the "perks" many doctors receive from Big Pharma.

I march over to the stainless steel trash bin in the kitchen and drop the "offensive as a turd" cookie in.

In the spirit of the above exchange, I offer you the following amazing post , which depicts the autism epidemic, in a nut shell.

And HT? Dearheart. Thank you for thinking of me, but....

I don't want it in our house.

Not a pen. Not a mouse pad. Not a knife. Not a CD. Not a water bottle. Not a library bag. Not a travel mug. Not a throw blanket. Not tickets to anything. Not a magnet for the fridge.

Not even...a chocolatey chocolate cookie.

Capiche?

Got Time for "One?"

"One conscious breath, in and out, is a meditation."

-Eckhart Tolle

HBO Documentary

HBO aired this film last night and has generously put it up on their website for all to view. Todd and I just watched it. I want to say something profound, but the words traveling from my brain cannot reach my fingertips. They are stuck in my throat and my heart.

If you watch this, (and you don't have a child with autism), you will see why we love our kids so much.

If you have a child on the spectrum, well...you already know.

Love.

All Cats Have Asperger's

Riley has, on more than one occasion, in exasperation cried out,

"I wish I was like Seth!"

or

"I wish my brain wasn't different!"

For a long time we didn't call her "Asperger's" anything. We didn't want to saddle her with unnecessary labels. But she's a smart kid. And statements like the ones above indicate she's aware of her different wiring. As she faces her challenges, we also want her to be able to embrace the amazing parts of herself.

A while back I bought a book called All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome. Perfect for Riley because she happens to love cats.

But at the time we mostly just scanned the pictures, and glossed over the words. The book talks about negative aspects of Asperger's as well as positive, and I didn't want Riley to own anything that wasn't hers.

Yesterday, we got it out, and talked about it. Really talked about it. We decided to read the whole thing, and anything that pertained to Riley, we'd put an R on the page. And anything that didn't, we would leave blank. It was a wonderful opportunity for us to talk about Asperger's together, for me to gage her self awareness (which was very high) and to discuss the challenges she faces and the gifts she brings to the table. We were careful to explain that Asperger's/autism presents itself in many different ways. No two people are exactly the same.

She also decided to name each and every cat in the book, and we wrote their names next to the photos. My favorite name she chose was Feline Redundant Cat, (inspired by Lady Redundant Woman on PBS's Word Girl) which was on the page about how some kids with Asperger's go on and on about the same topic. This page did not get an "R."

She also had me cross out the word "refuse" ("Some children with Asperger's refuse to make eye contact") and replace it with "forget."

Seth joined us for the whole thing and he added his two cents on how his sister's Asperger's manifests(he was also spot on), and he named a few cats.

I still don't know if labeling is the right answer.

She's so much more than a diagnosis.

But for now,

it seems to give her some relief,

to be like a cat.

Because a Person's a Person No Matter How Small

http://www.ageofautism.com/2008/03/jim-carrey-ha-1.html

"Stroke of Insight"

One day, Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor was a scientist studying the brain. The next day, she was a person having a stroke. Her ability to describe the experience based on "insider's knowledge" is quite amazing.

Watch her presentation at the prestigious TED conference last month in Montery California.

You'll be glad you did.


*Thanks to Greybeard for sending this my way.

Of all the days......

for your pesky little brother to "sleep in" ('til 7:45AM)!

Both kiddos running around with bunny ears this morning, happy, happy.

Riley, after finding their hidden eggs and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies:

"I'm so proud of the Easter Bunny!"

Happy Easter folks!

Soul Searching........

"There can be no keener revelation of a society's soul than the way in which it treats its children."

-Nelson Mandela
___

I've been feeling a need to stop "fighting" those entities who knowingly put children in harm's way. You know....the players with the dollar signs in their eyes, hiding behind the facade of "public health."

Taking it a step further, I feel a need to forgive them. For my own health. It's the only way I'm ever going to have any peace.

Forgiving the morally bankrupt and all their mostly well meaning (yet mostly arrogant & mostly ignorant) MD lackeys is a daunting task.

Hey, I know! Nelson Mandela will have some ideas!

Sigh.

The quote above was as far as I got.

I'm putting it out there.

I'm willing, if not yet able.

I wish I could go into each one of these player's personal histories. The deceitful head of the CDC. The top researchers who changed their data after the Simpsonwood meeting in 2000. Big Pharma. The doctors who are so threatened by anyone questioning their "authority" that they resort to bullying,threatening and belittling concerned parents.

I wish I could uncover the moment(s) that made them so insecure. Made them blind. Made them greedy. Made them dishonest. Made them arrogant. Made them so very afraid. Afraid of what?

I have to admit, just acknowledging these histories exist, brings me a small bit of relief.

I guess this is where I begin.

Sometimes, Maybe?

He: Let's go play upstairs.

She: Well...I don't want to because sometimes when we play you always run away from me.

He: That's because sometimes you don't play fair.

She: I sometimes do.

Contest Winners!

And the winners are...in no particular order...

1) Kim G. in Portland, for her story of cash, magically appearing when her family needed it.

2) Kerry Connors, for her story of being given a car (by her aunt) at just the right time.

3) Mary Beth, for her story of how a friend went above and beyond for her during a family tragedy.

Kim, Kerry, Mary Beth, your stories were very poignant. Email me your addresses and I'll send your books. Thank you for participating!

lifeorileyo@gmail.com

Also...I was so busy moving I forgot to tell you the latest Ask a Blogger
column is up at The Mad as Hell Club.

(I'm officially out of questions for next month's column. Anyone? Anyone)?

BTW....We're buried in snow again here. In addition to being buried in boxes, and e-mail.

Love.

We Made It!

"Are you going to take a slow drizzle?" Todd asks.

"Huh?

"I think the term shower is being a bit generous." He says.

No water pressure.
------
Seth had a play date Monday, (the day the movers came). His friend's mother said, "Seth didn't want to watch any TV here. He said he didn't want to waste his screen time."
----
Took a break from the overwhelm of unpacking today to attend Riley's school award ceremony. I watched her get a "good citizen award," an award for "academic excellence," and another one for doing a "great job" in music class. She walked up to the podium in her tie-die sleeveless sundress (in winter in Cleveland)and thick knit leggings(hot pink), and sneakers, hiking the waist of her tights up as she went. She stood in line with the others receiving awards, arms ticking away with excitement. (We got rid of a bio-feedback lady who wanted to extinguish her tic. Of all Riley's difficulties, this is what she focused on). The whole school was there, all the parents watching, and I was grateful for that tic. May everyone see it, and note her "invisible" disability. May they cut her some slack. One day she might want to work on controlling it, and that's fine, but for now we've bigger fish to fry.

But there she was, in a huge assembly, high-fiving all her classmates on the way back to her seat on the floor. She turned around, found my eyes, and grinned and waved.

And all the overwhelm I've felt in the last week melted off.

This is why we're here.

You go baby!

Contest Reminder

Drop me an e-mail, telling me about a time when someone did something altruistic for you. Make sure you put "contest" in the subject line. The top three entries will receive a copy of Dr. Steven Post' s Why Good Things Happen to Good People. Deadline is Sunday evening.

HT and I are kicking butt packing!

BTW....Happy Birthday Ms. M!!!!

Fun, Fun, Fun!

Jennifer Lauck is coming to Cleveland to teach a writing workshop!

April 19th-20th.

All are welcome but space is limited. Sign up soon!


Now about that contest I promised:

Drop me an e-mail, telling me about a time when someone did something altruistic for you. Lifeorileyo@gmail.com. Make sure you put "contest" in the subject line. The top three entries will receive a copy of Dr. Steven Post's (and Jill Neimark's)book, Why Good Things Happen to Good People.

I get to pick the winner, ('cause I'm the boss), but Hot Toddy will have input as well. C'mon! What are you waiting for! Click on Jennifer's link above and go register for the workshop. And get crackin' on your contest entry. Deadline for the contest is Sunday evening...I'm gonna say 7PM. We're moving into the new house on Monday, so how 'bout ...Thursday I'll announced a winner? Ha! I'm drunk with power!

Wish us luck on our move. I'm out for a few days.

Love.

Back in the Saddle

When I left the "news" business, I threw the baby out with the bath water. I thought I no longer liked writing, but what I really hated was writing under tight deadlines (I get all flustered and can't think). I also didn't much care for fabricating stories. The things we made out to be a big deal on slow news days.

Oy.

After a short while, it occurred to me I was wasting my valuable life's energy, producing stories that didn't matter, for people who didn't care about them to begin with.

So I quit.

I went back to school and became a registered nurse. I wanted to be a midwife.

I wound up having a daughter who would midwife me.

But obviously, writing was something that was not going down without a fight. If I don't do it, I don't feel good. Period. So here I am.

Recently, a friend sent me an ad about a writing job that seemed right up my alley. I got excited about it until I found out the organization seemed a bit shady. Not quite something I could get behind.

So I sat with it. And I asked myself, what was it that excited me so much about the opportunity?

It was the prospect of interviewing interesting people. People who do work I respect. People I might learn from.

And why can't I do that on my own as a freelancer?

No reason.

So tonight, I sat down and conducted my first interview in years. I was a little nervous. Gone is the cocky bravado (act) I used to have. That hat doesn't fit my head anymore.

I think it went well. I'm jazzed about writing the story. I don't know who I'll sell it to, but I'm confident it will find a good home.

Giddy-up!

P.S. How 'bout a contest? Details on Friday. Whoever wins gets a copy of the book Why Good Things Happen to Good People. (The author is the man I interviewed tonight).

If You Give a Blogger a Cookie.....

She's probably going to get a big butt.

No matter, it is so worth it!

Drama Mama bakes when she's working through things. She bakes, and she bakes and if you're lucky, she sends you some jumbo-oatmeal-butterscotch-kill-me-now-I'll-die-a-happy-woman cookies.

This is me eating the last one.

I swear I did not not eat the whole tin myself. Everyone else got at least one.

Thanks DM. Keep working through.

Glad I could help.

Beautiful Boy

I just painted Seth's new bedroom.

Purple, of course.

When I finished, I had about 1/2 hour before picking him up at preschool.

I decided to do a short meditation.

Sitting on a rolled up canvas tarp, I put on my CD Walkman and thought of Seth.

We had a moment of connection when I dropped him off today. One of his little friends was doing something silly in the hall. We looked at each other and smirked. It happened with me and my Gramma all the time, though her smirk was usually accompanied by a wink.

Connection.

Breathing, in and out.

So much of your babyhood is a blur. I'm sorry. I can't go back. We're moving forward, you and me. All of us.

So many times I've lost my temper with you, when it wasn't you. You were just the last straw. I'm sorry.

I look forward to watching your life unfold. I look forward to connecting with you more and more and then some. I stand back amazed at who you are, knowing I can't even fathom how far you'll go.

I'm here for you. Always.

Float with me little one. Your soul and my soul, clasping hands, dancing, soaring, laughing.

Thank you for coming to me. For being my son. Thank you.

I approve of you.

I approve of you.

I approve of you.

P.S. I hope you love your new room.

The Spiritual Down Low

There is a mother at my son's preschool I've been enjoying getting to know. She might even be my NBF. We'll be leaning up against the playground fence, chatting about God and "the meaning of life" as the boys burn up some energy after school. Inevitably, another mom will saunter up and immediately, we drop our conversation and become all....

"Is Janie going to camp this summer?"

and

"Oh heavens, little Billy has lost another mitten!"

I have another friend whom I've known since we were 15. That's 24 years for anyone who's counting. I know everything about her. But it wasn't 'til the last couple of years that spirituality even came up in our conversations. Isn't that interesting? Who her husband is having an affair with? I've got all the details. Her spiritual beliefs? Not so much.

Sitting in a yurt in the Colorado mountains, I join a group of Buddhists in prayer, not understanding the language they use but fulling understanding the feeling. The connection with the Divine.

I look at my own brother, a fundamentalist Christian, and I understand the feeling. He truly lives his faith. He respects his wife. He lives and breathes gentle kindness.

I deeply believe we are all connected and that the many paths lead to one Universal truth. Even the atheists. You're in there too. Do you ever go out in nature? Do you love your child? I understand that feeling too.

In the movie What Dreams May Come, there is a premise that whatever we believe to be true, is what we'll experience upon our death. If you believe in Satan and hell and purgatory, that is your own burden to carry. If you believe in a white puffy-cloud heaven with angels and puppy dogs, well, you'll be handed a harp.

A place where all can safely talk about what they believe, where people are more interested in learning from others than in convincing them of anything.

That's my idea of Heaven.

But shhh.....keep it on the down low.

We don't talk about stuff like that.

Daylight Savings Time

HT woke up at 4:30 this morning to shovel out the driveway so he could get to work by six. The snow is thigh level.

The children started rustling at 5:30.

They used the potty (on their own!!!), and went into the toy room where they played quietly for a full 45 minutes, coming in just once to ask me to tie a string bikini top onto a stuffed hippo.

As I brushed my teeth, Seth looked up at me with his sweet little face and said,

"When my Lightening McQueen car started talking I turned it off so I wouldn't wake you."

They each had a turn on the computer as I did the treadmill.

I had my coffee while they ate breakfast.

We wrote in our appreciation journals.

They played a game of chase all through the house.

They proclaimed hunger and had a snack.

They colored and drew pictures at the dining room table.

They made secret clubs in the living room, dragging a zillion toys down from upstairs.

I sat down at the computer and they interrupted me six (count 'em) times before I even began.

I threatened them.

"If you interrupt me one more time I'm gathering up all these toys you have out and you won't see them the rest of the day!"

HT called to see how we were doing.

I looked at the clock.

"Oh my God. It's only 8:30???"

"Technically, it's 9:30." He said.

If you were offended by the Sarah Silverman/Matt Damon video, I'm begging you not to click on this:

Begging you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGa29kPBbp4&feature=related


This post is dedicated to Mystic Wing.

Slaying Dragons

Stepping away from the computer today. I leave you in good hands. The bravest girl in the world has written a story (she's the white girl, third from the right).

Riley Saves the Day!

Done

I am so tired. I know I should be rejoicing that Dr. Sanjay Gupta, finally acklowledged we should maybe look at the vaccine schedule, maybe start thinking about spacing them out. And the language read in a paragraph written by the devil at the CDC was just a tiny bit different, a little more yeilding, but I feel like I'm in that bad dream, where you're running but you can't run fast enough. You know, like you're under water.

It's all too damn slow.

Little Hannah stuck out her arm for her mom to stroke, just like Riley does, for "softies" to calm her down.

I lost count of the pharmeceutical ads during the broadcast. I think it was four? In one hour.

The lies about thimerisol being removed from childhood vaccines.

I'm just sad.

And tired.

It's futile to beat your head against a wall and try to force people to hear you.

I'm out.

Did you know......?

If your child has a bad reaction to a vaccine, or God forbid dies, your doctor (even if they coerced or bullied you into the shots) and the pharmaceutical companies who manufacture the chock-full-o-crap vaccines are protected and cannot be touched in a court of law?

Your only recourse is to file a claim with the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program.

And even if your kid dies, the most you can get is $250,000.

Now, I don't know about your kids, but mine are worth way more than $250,000.

Many of you know the government recently admitted that vaccines contributed to one child's autism. That child's family is holding a press conference today in Atlanta @ 11:30AM.

They will also be interviewed on Larry King tonight.

Here is the impressive background of the child's parents, as read on Age of Autism.

"Dr. Poling graduated from Boston University with a masters and undergraduate degree in biology and a GPA of 3.90. He received his M.D. and Ph.D from Georgetown University and did his neurology internship at Johns Hopkins University, Department of Neurology."

The child's mother Terry, is an attorney and oh, BTW, also, a nurse.

Yep, they sound like crazy, irrational, backwoods anti-vaccine, braless hippy dim wits, don't they? I mean, to question vaccines? They gotta be "out there," right?

Ahem.

Their daughter's name is Hannah.

She's nine.

She's a real person.

The U.S. government admits her autism was brought on by vaccines she recieved as an infant.

She matters.

What a brave little soul she is.

Can't keep back the tide.

Love.

OBAMA

Okay.

Obama.

I could write about some blogs I read yesterday where it was alleged that the Clinton campaign doctored the video on their ads to make Obama appear "blacker."

-
I could talk about how Rush Limbaugh is supposedly saying all kinds of nice things about Clinton, (in a transparent effort to drum up support for the candidate he feels the Republicans can beat).

-

I could talk about how Republicans are allegedly jumping ship, to vote in the Democratic primaries, specifically to vote for Clinton because McCain has a better chance at beating her in the general election.

-

I could. It is tempting.

-

But what we resist persists.

-

What we focus on gets bigger, and bigger.

-

Whether we want it or not.

-

So.

-

I am going to continue to focus on the candidate that embodies integrity.

-

The one who has the potential to unite people.

-

The one who voted against the Iraq war.

-

The one with the audacity to hope.

-

(The one who's significant other has a really good name).

-

C'mon people!

-

Let's focus on what we do want.

-

And give less attention to what we don't.

-

Keep up the momentum.

-

Keep hoping.

-

*Photo boston.com

Compassion, in Pink

Over at the new house, I painted Riley's room "Pretty in Pink."

Afterward, I sat on the floor, looking around. "She's gonna love it!" I thought to myself.

My mom never got a chance to have this feeling. The feeling of making a "Pretty in Pink" room for her child.

Though I'm sure,

she would have

loved to.

Once upon a time,

there was a beautiful couple. They were good people and they looked toward the future with bright eyes.

They had three babies. Three bright eyed beautiful girls.

One by one, the brightness in the eyes of their beautiful girls began to fade.

The mommy and the daddy were very worried.

The doctors said, "Wait and see."

But the mommy was not one to wait. Not when it came to her babies.

She got busy.

She did her own research.

She learned about autism.

She started writing about it and in the process learned a whole lot more.

She began an internet group, bringing many parents together to network and brainstorm on ways to help their kids.

A teacher to her core, she began speaking about autism.

Through her efforts, countless children were helped.

But then...the daddy lost his job.

Autism is expensive. For this family, expensive times three. All three beautiful girls are severely effected.

They had to give up the lovely home they'd worked so hard to get.

They had to live with her parents for over a year. Not an easy feat, even with the best family relationships.

But the beautiful couple stayed strong.

Eventually he found another job. A good one that allowed him to work from home and help the mommy with the beautiful girls.

They got back on their feet.

The girls began to thrive in their new schools.

The beautiful couple could breathe again.

But last week, this hardworking dad got laid off once again.

The beautiful mommy who is so strong, well....her back is starting to buckle.
Today her eyes are not bright. Her eyes are tired and red.

Autism costs a lot of money. For this family, that's times three.

"Can we set up a fund raiser for you? Will you let us help? Will it hurt your pride?"

"We are a breath away from becoming squatters in the house we're currently renting. I'm over pride."

Still, it is so hard for her to accept help. Let me rephrase that. Still, it's like pulling teeth to get her to agree to any help at all!

I've resorted to citing examples from the books Why Good Things Happen to Good People and Molecules of Emotion, describing to her how, by allowing people to help, she is actually improving their health. Happy chemicals will be released in their bodies!

This is a dad who is a good provider. He has worked his ass off to support his girls. The financial burden of autism is like a high interest credit card with a huge balance(minus the new wardrobe and fancy toys). You just can't climb out of it. The kid's needs are endless and ever growing and medical insurance won't cover jack. Multiply that times three. This is a mom who is the first one to offer help to anyone in need. The first one.

There's no denying the contribution Kim has made to the autism community. She's raised awareness and is a relentless advocate for many children with autism, not just her own.

Friends, our sister is tired and she needs some help.

I can't convince her to accept cash via paypal, but she has reluctantly agreed to accept gift cards. She can order most of the gluten free/casein free food her girls need through Amazon. She can purchase most everything else they need at Target.

If you would like to help by sending an e-gift card, click on one of the above links and use this e-mail address:

KimStagliano

@

gmail.com

Thank you so much for your generosity.

Psst....hurry, before she changes her mind.

And enjoy those helper chemicals!

* all photos stolen from Kim's blog.