Snead’s Blogging

Oh, hey blog! How are ya? Yes, it’s been a while.

Me? Oh fine, thanks. Been doing the usual — warding off evil storms, waiting on the new ones to roll in, surviving home improvement and car wrecks. But things are just fine!

But I am avoiding the truth. I carry a deep guilt inside that I must confess.

I had an affair behind my hairdresser’s back. I strayed. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. It just happened. Let me explain.

Saturday I called and they were closing early. I called Monday, (Yes Labor Day — beauty knows no holidays) and of course my stylist was .. um.. not available.

See?? I tried to call her, I tried to not stray. She should have called me back! She should have not enjoyed the holiday dedicated to NOT working and worked. Yes, maybe I could have planned this better — my haircut — but I wasn’t sure I needed one, I just thought my hair was dry. Yes, its a lame excuse but it’s the best I got.

So, I called a local chain salon and it were so open to me and my needs. Really open. Like on Labor Day open.

I got there and the stylist greeted me with a smile. It was the thrill of a new chair, new products, and he was so chatty. He demanded I cut off more than I wanted to get to healthy hair. I listened. I watched as he whipped out his scissors making sure he cut the way Tabitha would approve.

He showed me products to try but didn’t force anything on me. Then sent me away looking pretty damn happy.

While I was getting the cut, as I could hear the snipper snip snip, the cell rang. It was my hairdresser calling me back. I couldn’t take back my haircut — the deed was done.

Now, I sit here, typing, looking really good but feeling oh so bad. And not in the good way bad.

How do I tell her this happened? She can see it all over my face.. er hair.

Sigh.

Okay, right off, all this rain makes you have to pee every five minutes.

But really, things are okay here at my house. I am not underwater, nor without power, and I tried to take pictures of wind but basically, it’s invisible, and you can see that same blowing-palm-tree-shot-they-show-every-friggin-weather-event on the Weather Channel.

Flooding is expected especially in the downtown area where basically it always floods. My side of town is higher so things should be fine unless the ground can’t absorb anymore water and we get some sewage/street drain issues.

Actually this is my favorite part of the coverage, the fact weather dudes and dudettes have to reinvent how to explain what you can expect from Fay in the next several hours. Um.. rain, wind, flooding. Wind, rain. Rain with some gusts of wind, some minor flooding. Rising water and heavy precipitation. Some wet stuff falling from gray things and something is moving the trees alot. Pockets of heavy rainfall and gusts of wind.

I don’t mean to make light of what is going on downstate. Those folks truly are experiencing a flooding emergency and I hope that FEMA some competent governmental relief agency will help soon.

To add fuel to water, my grand daughter has a horrible double-ear infection, so I am here with a feverish toddler who is not happy. The only that could make this unbearable is either no power OR having to listen to Muzak.

The only way to describe this is if your city has a summer rain, with no thunder, but tons of rain. And it lasted for …. well four days. Except the rain comes in bands.

It’s just a huge storm that isn’t letting up. And if you live on the beach, it’s must worse.

So, things are fine. I am fine. Family is fine. House is fine. We’re just wet. And of course I am on the suckest vacation week ever.

Florida is not so sunny today as Fay travels the length of the state, looking apparently for sailors and sin.

Truth is she is bringing so much rain, I am afraid to wash clothes. Well, almost afraid. I have to wash clothes. It’s kinda important that me and the kids not be naked.

Anyway, Fay is here where I live, squalls roving over every half our or so. You go into a restaurant and its only cloudy and you emerge into a downpour only to have the rain stop as soon as you finally find your keys at the car door.

Well anyway, being a Floridian now for nearly a decade, unless it’s a Category 3, I just don’t scare. And if it’s more, I evacuate.

I have all my important documents (including my extensive iTunes collection, yes it’s considered important) on 300 gig external drive. I have a preparedness kit that is checked and restocked yearly. I have a camp stove and elected NOT to get a generator.

I also have these handy dandy improvements that I’ve made like my new roof, removing the old solar panels, new windows, new garage door — so all the major openings of my house are 100 mph wind proof.

<— Superman Strength, Ass-kicking Window

So, we’re good.

Saturday was not my best day ever.

Let’s just start from the beginning.

Saturday, I took the kids with me to do a bit of back-to-school shopping. Both teens needed shoes, socks, undies, and various other items. I also needed to get some beer for the party I was attending later in the day.

We pile up in the car, get to DSW, and Dude begins to get very agitated. Lately Dude is always agitated, anxious or just plain rude. Some of it is his autism. Some of it is being 13. All of it is unsettling and stressful.

So, in the DSW, I sent daughter to pick out her own shoes, and took Dude to the men’s section. Dude can’t tie his shoes, so, as he see’s all the shoes with laces he begins to stress out. He starts stemming — hand flapping, pacing, saying “No shoes with laces!’

I show him that we’re here to get velcro shoes or slip ons (like Vans) and he settles a bit. We find some shoes, so does sissy and I sent them out to the car to wait and I pay. We ride over to the store, I go in and get a case of beer but it took much longer than I thought.

The kids elected to stay in the car, and on the way to the store, I’d bought McDonalds so Dude should have been happy. But when I get in the car, his sister was crying. Dude had hurt her.

She said she’d been trying to get him to stop whining and she put her hand on his leg to get his attention. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm.

The skin is not bruised, there are no broken bones. Just hurt feelings. But I got really mad when I found out. You see, Dude can’t lay his hands on anyone. He can’t think it’s okay or that’s a way to solve conflict. It’s just not acceptable. Ever. For many reasons.

When we got home, after yelling at him the whole way home, we got into a scuffle. Yes, a scuffle. He started to cry, I was sobbing, and hubby had to step in and calm things down.

How could I let this happen? So many things run through your mind when your special needs child hurts his sibling. It’s not right, it’s not appropriate. But you also think “If you hurt this person, and they resent you, who will take care of you when I am dead?”

After this settled, Dude went to his sister on his own and apologized. Really heartfelt apology. He knew he screwed up. He knew he’s done something really wrong. He held her hand and told her he was so sorry and hugged her.

When I was calm (read sobbing that I even touched my child in anger and how I was so ashamed to let my emotions get out of hand) I came to Dude and apologized. He and I hugged. He said he was sorry too. He cupped my face in his hands and ran his finger down the wet places on my face.

After things cleared and my husband convinced me I was not a bad mother, I got into the car to go to the party. And on the way I rear-ended someone at a stoplight. In front of a cop. Who saw the whole thing.

My brand new car. Jacked up. Oh, and I didn’t have any proof of insurance.

So, it was at this point that I decided I needed to come home and drink. Dude’s Dad had picked him up to stay for the night to give us both some space. I watched the Olympics and drank Margaritas. And made chocolate bread pudding.

Dude’s anxiety isn’t going to to go away anytime soon, and we’re working on it everyday. He can’t be continually rude. And I have to find a way to cope and love my boy.

Anyway, that was my Saturday. How was your’s?

I am in the mist of renovation hell (Yes, still. Shut up.) but I wanted to bring this AP news feature to your attention.

Read this and tell me your thoughts. I am going to post more extensively later. But the question is: Autism is a prison sentence for a parent? Shall we go no where to save the civilities of a nation?

The Associated Press: Disruptive behavior by autistic kids stirs furor