Downloading the Moments, Erasing the Rest

I woke up today with the mantra, Don't be mad at your daughter for yesterday, it's over. I repeated it over and over and when she woke up, too early for me but its always too early for me, I smiled big and said "good morning beautiful". I held my breath a bit as I hoped she couldn't see through the facade. She really is beautiful, the anxiety is because I have this unique hard drive within my brain which downloads all the things that annoy, frustrate and piss me off and holds them there for what I presume will be as long as I exist. Yet it skips over other memories and even things I would like to retain like all the psychology theories and who founded them because such info would be very useful if I ever get around to becoming licensed.

Regardless of the inner workings of my memory that often leave me a  bit dumbfounded, I have tried many ways to erase this part of my hard drive, even remove it's ability altogether so it can't store new situations that anger me but alas they are there, all of them, for as long as I can remember, and I continue to have this inability to let go! I hold grudges and if wronged bad enough I dream of some sort of revenge. Not like Law Abiding Citizen revenge, though that was a great movie. I don't wish harm on people but do believe everyone should get what they deserve. The tailgater putting me and my kids at risk as he swerves in and out of his lane just a few feet from each car... yeah, that guy should lose his license and be inconvenienced by taking public transportation...forever. And I guess I wouldn't mind punching him in the nose for putting my kids at risk, so I guess I do wish bodily harm at times! Yes, I have some road rage.

Is it bad we dressed her
as a devil for Halloween?

Anyway, as it turns out, this personality trait is a bit difficult to work around when you have a toddler who, I often wonder if she is in fact the spawn of Dexter and somehow ended up in my womb. If I believed in some things a bit differently I might say, spawn of the devil. I have actually used that phrase before to get my point across. And if I was of a different religion I may have contacted someone to come and pray the possession out of her by now, or at least this past week and a half.

While I am half joking, I do worry as well. Caleb is the polar opposite of my possessed little "monster", a term of endearment her father and I started calling her by 2 months of age.



This became her special nickname in part because of the incessant crying for the first 6 weeks of her life. Which is how long it took us to figure out she has severe reflux (still does but no pain, thank you makers of Prilosec) Poor kid.

Anyway, it's really no secret to anyone that the baby is my "favorite" kid. I stress over this favoritism thing quite a bit and debated admitting it in a public forum but as I said, it's not exactly a secret. Besides, anyone who knows me also knows I would die to protect my little monster and love her as much as her brother, the combo of the two being more love than anything in the universe. That knowledge doesn't stop the mommy guilt I feel for having a favorite though or the counselor in me from analyzing why this might be and the potential effects it may have on her self esteem should his favoritism thing be more than me detesting the terrible twos and the fact that I'm about to lose my mind less than two weeks into what I presume are the dreaded threes. You know what I'm talking about. The "three's" have been like the mommy's Fort Knox over the centuries. I've only recently been warned and more recently initiated. I suspect some wise mommy coined the terrible two phrase as a bit of a warning but also to help keep the three's a secret from potential parents, lest no one would have children.

I have lots of theories like this but lets move on. I've debated a number of times digging out my old text books because I honestly think Rylie's behavior goes beyond the realm of "normal" but I honestly can't remember just how crazy two and three years old are supposed to be. Umm, yeah, for those of you who know me and are scratching their heads by this comment you are not mistaken, my major was in fact Human Development (and Family Studies) focusing on Children, (Youth and families) and I worked with 3 year olds for a total of five years. Problem is, all I remember is loving those kids and that age, it was my favorite age in fact! Boy did those little toddlers bamboozle me. This age is nothing short of mood swings that change like the speed of light, which I am clearly too slow to adapt to fast enough, followed up by sociopath like behaviors turn sweet little girl I just want to hug all day. I mean how does a person stay sane? How do mommy's survive this? My hair is turning grey and my body hurts and I'm as tired as well, always. But damn, I think I just lost a year of my life and we are only a week in!

I came home from yoga last night night and Craig said, I'm happy you got a chance to get out of this mad house. He was alone with the kids for less than 2 hours.

The other day Ryle threw one of her her hellacious fits an hour and fifteen minutes into her brother's typical 3 hour nap.  Hellacious fit is the only way I can describe these daily episodes which often occur multiple times per day and often stem from her wanting to do something herself yet not informing me of this decision until she's lost her freaking mind over it. Yeah, Miss "I got it" (my new nickname for her since I hear it all day  long), flips out over us not letting her change her own poopy diaper yet she can't sit her little ass on the big girl potty, yup, she got it. Anyway, Caleb woke up, after not sleeping the two previous nights before because he's teething, again. Poor kid was exhausted and very unhappy. I. Was. Pissed. I quickly sent Craig one of my over exaggerated texts about someone not living through the day and took a breath.

I gave them their snacks and I decided since everyone was up I might as well go grocery shopping, no sense putting it off since Rylie seemed to have regained her composure. All was well, Rylie helped me put the groceries up to scan. I do self check out because I like to bag my groceries how I put them away to save time. Did I mention my anal side? Anyway, she wanted to help with the stuff that, for various reasons, I put out of her reach. My massive mommy mistake of the day which was committed in effort to prevent what seemed to be a looming breakdown on her part... I let her out of the cart to "help". Subsequently, she found the candy they put at the check out.

I thought, those damn marketers must sit in their board rooms making this strategic product placement decision knowing it will set off the toddler personality known to me as, completely freaking insane, and the parent will buy the candy to prevent an all out meltdown. Well, I am not one of these parents and as a result, all of Krogers and those in the parking lot got to witness one of Rylie's hellacious fits. It was actually because I put her back in the cart when she started to try to open the skittles package with her teeth. No, I still didn't buy the damn things after the package was in her mouth.

An older woman in the parking lot stopped and said, "aww, someone's not happy." I thought, no she is freaking crazy not unhappy but either way, no shit! She's screaming and crying and acting like someone is doing some serious bodily damage, must you stop and give attention to this nonsense!? Now, I'm sure this nice lady meant well but I didn't even bother to look at her or address her comment for fear the fire in my glare might cause her to burst into flames.

It was only today I realized that Rylie was screaming "help, help" since she still wanted to help put the groceries up to scan. As such, this scene could have been interpreted very differently to a passerby and as such I probably looked like a very awful mommy who was ignoring my sweet little girl who needed "help" rather than the mommy about to lose her mind due to her sweet possessed little girl throwing a fit in public.

By the way, Caleb sweetly sat in the cart, quietly entertaining himself this whole time.

That night I went and bought a bottle of wine and had not one but two glasses. If you typically read my posts you know such behavior is unheard of. For one, I don't ever drink at home. I just didn't care. I needed a glass of wine and to try to let go. It worked. The next day was better and I was back to just thinking she may be the spawn of Dexter but I can handle the insanity. She had a couple back to back time outs, one for hurting the dog, again. My poor boxer, notorious for their high pain tolerance, cries at whatever it is she does to him now. As she sat she said, "hurt animals" and my worries returned as I thought of Dexter and said, "No Rylie we DON'T hurt animals, animals are our friend" I think she just can't say "don't hurt animals" all together but either way, she makes the dog cry and laughs.

She then hurt brother bear. This is back to being a daily, multiple times per day occurrence. I'm also not sure she's trying to hurt him or just rough housing because that's how she's used to playing with dad but grabbing him around the neck and lying on top of him just isn't okay, whatever her intention. She also likes to give hugs around the neck but she's also manipulative enough to wait until I'm not watching, which tells me she knows it's wrong but does it anyway and laughs while she does. The laughing really worries me.

A Rylie hug"

Then I have my carpe moment of the day. I get one everyday but that day was extra sweet. When I brought Caleb down from nap she excitedly said, "Caleb's awake!" I took him to the kitchen to get his milk and she followed. Looking up at him she said, "Caleb!". I bent down so she could see him and she leaned in, kissed his head and said, "Caleb, I love you". Oh melt my heart and in the back of my head I thought, thank God, she's not a sociopath!

About 10 minutes later she was stealing his snack which makes him flip out. You don't mess with this boy's food! Then she was lying on him laughing as he screamed, unable to get up. Ahhhhh (sigh), at least I had my one moment.

This is an old one but it always looks the same

I try to soak up the magical moments because the other 80% (more?) of the day involves all the insanity, screaming and me looking at my daughter thinking, what the hell am I going to do with her?! I often contemplate checking myself into a mental hospital just so I can get a 72 hour break from it all. I remember slipping on ice this winter and thinking, damn, if I had fallen I could have broken something and maybe ended up in the hospital for a day, shit, why did I catch myself? Yes, she's. that. crazy.

Yet, at the same time, her moments of sweetness often melt my heart and her smile and giggle simply light up my life. I love cuddling with her at night, when she sleeps and isn't tossing around like a tornado that is. I love it even more when she sleeps in her own bed and through the night. That combo has only happened one time since ousting the crib and it was this week, so its fresh in my memory. I keep thinking if I dream of it each night I can relive the feeling each day. Its not working, but it was worth a shot. I worry I will hold this grudge. I worry I will always "favor" Caleb and cause some deep routed issues in my little monster. I think, she's two! Let it go. I take a breath, often multiple times each day to regroup and I think, man, now I understand why we don't diagnose the really major psychological disorders until late adolescence and adulthood...everyone would be institutionalized and medicated for life if we diagnosed at age two!

I go to bed each night telling myself to let it go. I wake up telling myself yesterday is over. I see her sweet face and once again say, "good morning my love", and once again I pray, please God, don't let her be possessed today but if she is, give me just one moment to hold on to, just one. I always get it.

Sometimes it takes until bedtime when I can count on her to say, "Goodnight, Caleb" and give him a kiss on the head. Now, I just need to download those moments and hold on to them, erase the the rest of the day and with a little help from God, I just might survive this thing called parenthood.

Some of my magical moments caught on film (or more accurately a digital device :)

Caleb just got his own chair,
they both  were quite happy!

Picture says it all!

Rylie made Caleb a lego "cake" while he napped,
waited for him to wake up and sat to eat it with him :)

Never Forget

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Check them out! 

Today is Yom HaShoah, well it's after sundown to technically the day of remembrance for the Holocaust victims and heroes is over, but I'm just getting around to writing now. Such is life when neither child naps!

Today always brings a myriad of emotions for me. For the past three years I've had intentions of going to the variety of events that commemorate the day and each year I find I'm too exhausted from the kids, don't have someone to watch them or today, the baby was screaming on the way to the mall for the "Unto Every Person There Is A Name" where they were reading names of victims for 8 straight hours. He then fell asleep before arriving so we went home, allowing him to sleep for 20 minutes in the car. I thought once again, well, I guess I'll go to something next year, but in the back of my head I worry that the survivors are getting up there in age and can't live forever. I must hear their stories as often as possible. We all need to hear their stories so we can see their eyes and hear their voices and remember. We must remember.

On the way home I pondered, as I often do on this day, the sheer number of Jewish lives lost. Over SIX MILLION. Of that, some 1.5 million were children. I thought, my God, that's the population of Philadelphia! And those were just the children. Over twice the population of Chicago, just gone, in a handful of years. How do I teach this to my children and not have them terrified of being a Jew? How do I help them understand that there are people, still, who have that much hate just because we are Jews, but assure them they don't have to be afraid?

Then as I'm thinking of my own beautiful, innocent children my mind wonders, as it often does when trying to  reconcile such atrocities in my head, to the countless horrors I have read about what happened to these children. My heart weeps, for their suffering and their fear and for their mothers who had to watch. I have similar reactions when I watch Criminal Minds or the news for that matter and I can't even fathom such things happening to my children. I can't fathom surviving it! But people did. People survived and married and had children and grandchildren and led beautiful lives... and their children were not afraid.

People have asked why we talk about the Holocaust so much and so often. Why we have a remembrance day of something so awful. I've been asked, why didn't they fight back. Most of these people asked when I was in my infancy of learning what it meant to be a Jew and I didn't have much  knowledge aside the book Night, The Dairy of Anne Frank, a bit from my Intro to Judaism class in college and what is taught in high school history.

What I would tell them now, what I will tell Rylie and Caleb when they ask is this... We talk about it often because we CAN NOT forget. When you stop talking about something, you slowly forget and then the next generation learns very little and the generation after that knows even less or maybe nothing at all. And that is precisely how history repeats itself. So we talk about it and we teach our children and we educate the community because people need to know just how awful this time in human history was. It wasn't just the Nazi's cruelty and hatred. Nearly everyone turned a blind eye. People knew and most did nothing to stop it, until it impacted them directly. People need to hear the horrors and understand what hate and intolerance of people who are different can lead to. This wasn't an isolated event. Genocides have occurred since and are going on right now. I like to think because we talk about the Shoah so often that more people are aware and that is why more people work so hard to fight these atrocities that are going on today.

I like to think that the Jews who are fighting to help end these genocides today are fighting back. Those that tell their stories are fighting back. Maybe they didn't start a rebellion then but MANY did. Today is the day of remembrance as it falls during the anniversary of the Warsaw ghetto uprising. I would tell that person who asked me why they didn't fight and I will tell my children, THEY DID fight and we still are. But really, who can blame those that didn't? Who would believe that they were being sent off to gas chambers? That's INSANE! I don't know that I would have believed it.

I always try to end the day remembering that while most looked the other way, so many did not. I then of course have to push aside the anger at those who helped but it seems had their own agenda in doing so. While this is common knowledge among Jews, I say this considering how many children were not returned to their family members, if any survived (often none did), or at least a Jewish family. Instead they were converted, often never even knowing they were Jews; their children and grandchildren never knowing who they are. Hundreds of thousands (I'm guessing) more Jews lost because they were "saved". This story is often in the back of my mind as I put my children to bed each night.

It's funny how God always shows up when I most need a burst of hope. Just two nights ago, as I put Rylie to bed she recited, or some might say shouted, the last four words of the Shema after I began it. She often says the last word independently and sometimes will repeat after me but never nearly the whole (6 word) prayer! I was so proud, and of course laughing at just how loud she burst out "Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad" that I just couldn't bare "shush" her despite fears of Caleb waking up. Then I breathed a sigh of relief as I thought, she'll always know who she is. (and because she didn't wake the baby!)

So I had a lot of emotions today, as I always do when I think of, read about or watch movies that remind me such hatred exists in our world. Turns out today is also 10 months since my Pap passed which took me awhile to notice but then realized that could explain some of the additional emotions that seemed to originate out of nowhere. Then tonight, as Rylie gave us a difficult time with going to bed, I thought of her little outburst of the Shema the other night and it made me smile. I think my Pap was smiling too. And I hope those parents who perished in the Holocaust and subsequently whose babies were converted against their will are smiling. Like every year on Yom HaShoah, I reconciled my weeping heart by remembering that there was love and compassion from complete strangers and there were countless stories of survival, which means there's hope. Hope for the future of all humanity. There's hope for those who are suffering as I type.

We all need to keep fighting for them and Never Forget.

Love and Shalom
(and goodnight!)

The Abyss

A friend posted this picture and I thought it was perfect for my blog
though  not necessarily relevant to this post.

I haven't felt much like writing lately. I haven't felt like doing much of anything lately. It takes all I've got to do the mundane things I need to like prepare meals and clean up and give baths, get a shower myself, go to the store for milk. I've been on a bit of a self pity party you could say.

Really I've been more in this abyss of anger. My chatter is hate filled anger, most of the time, and I thought why write about that? I actually have written a couple posts but they are just sitting on my iPad. I don't like them much. They aren't the honest type posts, they aren't my constant thoughts, just ones that pass by, interrupt my incessant anger and then they are gone. These passing thoughts are the moments of joy, even laughter, I allow myself to soak in for a moment and then it's back to my abyss of hate and anger, worry and fear.

I hate my anger. I try to remember if I was always an angry person and I don't think I was. Maybe sad a good amount of time, but not angry. Just a few years ago I felt great, like I had my whole life ahead of me. I had hopes and dreams and was excited about life and my future. Now every decision I ponder in an effort to escape my anger leaves me with nothing but fear. Any major decision I make will have a butterfly effect that will impact not only the rest of my life but the rest of my kids lives and that terrifies me. What if I make the wrong decision? These aren't those ever debated parenting decisions like to breast feed or not, to vaccinate or not, to stay home or work outside the home, where to send the kids to school or even to live. The choices I need to make to escape my anger of living in an alcoholic home can make or break all of us.

Al Anon says to focus on the present and to focus on our own choices which is all we can control. But with such young children involved, I find it extremely difficult not to look at their futures and what I dream for them to have. I get that I can't control how the ripple effect of my choices now will impact them later, even the more simple decisions parents have to make. No one can know how a decision today will impact tomorrow. I do get that. But how can I not at least try to picture every angle? It's a fine line we teeter on, the living in the present and being conscious of the future. I'm not very good at walking this fine line. I often tip over into the worrying about the future, the future of my kids.

But the worry is impacting my health. Not just my mental health but my physical health now and that terrifies me even more. My anger is killing me, it feels like. No I'm not dying, that I know of! Thank God. But many days it feels like it. Anger is consuming, like flames. But it burns from the inside out. It's painful. It's difficult to extinguish flames from within. You can't just stop, drop and roll.

I try the stop part when it creeps up but often I feel like, if I don't get angry at my husband when he drinks then it's equivalent to being passive, to saying it's okay honey, keep killing yourself and destroying everything you've worked for, everything you love. It's not okay. It just isn't, but saying it's not okay doesn't mean anything. Granted my daily anger doesn't seem to mean anything either. So what am I left with? I don't know. I wish I did. If I did, maybe I could swim out of this abyss, extinguish these constant flames of fury and return to the person who was excited about my life and my future and all the wonderful things that lie await. All the joy life has to offer. And there's a lot of it but it's just passing me by.

Instead I burn. Yes, I know, it's my choice to be angry. I choose to, because I just don't know what other choice to make right now. The anguish of worry that consumes me when I'm not furious is just as debilitating. I know I have to make a choice, many choices, and accept whatever choices I determine are best for me and my kids. I need to stop worrying about how all the puzzle pieces of life will fall as a result. I know this, but I just don't know where to start. I feel a bit like I'm in quick sand and can't take a step forward. This isn't me though. I've always fought for what I wanted. I've always wanted something attainable though and since it's not possible to make another person change and be who you know they can be perhaps that's why I can't figure out how to take that step. What I want is not something I can make happen.

What I do know is my anger is impacting the kids lives much more than their alcoholic father is right now. It may always be that way. I've read that growing up in an alcoholic home can be like this because the alcoholic is predictable, in a way, but my moods are not. How I choose to react to any particular situation at any given moment is not predictable. Often I don't even know how I'll react. I don't even know how I want to react anymore.

I want to be happy and I want my kids to be happy. They are happy, for now, and I want them to stay that way. I don't want their innocence stripped away by this disease. I don't want them to be consumed by fear or worry or anger like their mommy is. I want them to have the life I dreamed for them. I think first I need to accept that no matter what choices I make, this is a disease that will in someway impact their lives. It doesn't have to be in a way that's detrimental though. But if I can't get myself out of this abyss of anger and start enjoying life again it will be me who they hate and not this disease.

Let's Remember

I'm guessing that most parents, particularly those with very young children, have at some point or another read something pertaining to autism. Many may have read a plethora of information during pregnancy or shortly there after about what "causes" autism; information that varies from outright false to our best guess to some researched based facts. Many may have been concerned that their child would be autistic.

With statistics now coming in at 1 in 88; 1 in 54 for boys and 1 in 252 for girls, people are starting to panic again, similar to the swine flu "epidemic". I'm in no way saying this isn't a serious concern but more referencing how people will react. We'll be hearing more again from people with their unfounded theories claiming the CDC recommended immunizations must be the cause. There will be those saying it's over diagnosed or not really this high, who are often the same people arguing to reduce funding or not provide the essential early intervention services for these children. Then there will be the people who actually have been trained and/or done research and/or worked with children with actual autism and those who have a child(ren) diagnosed on the spectrum who will fighting to get the truth out there. Fighting to dismantle the barrage of nonsense and misinformation that the telephone game among parents at the playground based on the media's too quick to report without the facts turns into combined with the accounts of famous people like Jenny McCarthy claiming her son was "cured". It really is difficult to know what and who to believe though, and if I wasn't educated on the topic or hadn't worked in this field I would be at a loss for knowing what to believe myself.

I'm someone who likes to go as directly to the source for answers as I can. That's part of why I love facebook. I can be in touch with friends I may not have been otherwise, which provides me with greater resources. I had computer problems last year and an old friend from high school helped out after seeing a status post and then proceeded to fix my laptop for me. I recently emailed an old friend who is a pediatric dentist about taking Rylie to the dentist. I go to a friend who's a doula and other friends who have nursed their kids for an extended period of time for breast feeding questions. Yes, despite nursing both my kids for a year, over a year now with Caleb, I still have questions. No one knows everything and using your resources is the best way to get accurate information in our Google world. In my opinion.

I actually used to get upset with close friends and family who had questions about things pertaining to the mental health field, particularly the facets of the field I have more expertise in, and never bothered to come to me for information. Worse yet is when someone would talk to me about these things like they never knew it was something I dedicated a good portion of my life to. I used to think one, they never heard anything I've talked about in relation to school or work since oh let's say, 1998. Or two, they must think that during all my years of education and work in the field I didn't learn anything worthy of obtaining my advice thus, I don't know what I'm talking about. Both would tick me off. Now, I'm trying to accept that not everyone, for whatever reason, uses their resources like I do, but in this case... I'm going to share anyway. You don't have to believe me and I'm sure people will find others, even other professionals in the field, who disprove what I know but that's really the case with everything, isn't it? That doesn't make me wrong.

Here's my take. All children have their quirks, all children tantrum (well, all children I've ever met), all children are different. The autism spectrum is so far reaching that the "infinite spectrum" would be more accurate. The diagnosis of PDD (pervasive developmental disorder), NOS (not otherwise specified) is one of the most common diagnosis we see nowadays. When I started in the field, ADHD was often the norm. In layman's terms, PDD, NOS basically says, something isn't quite right but we can't say exactly what that is; there's some autistic characteristics but not enough for for an autism diagnosis. To be honest, it takes a lot to see an actual autism diagnosis. Mainly because autism isn't a cookie cutter, it looks a bit different in every kid, sometimes a lot different. There are often dual or multiple diagnoses that are appropriate which make it difficult to know if it's just autism or a combination of other things that make it look like autism. The intricacies of diagnosing autism are endless and once diagnosed, that's a label that child has forever, so you don't want to rush to give that label.

I'm not saying don't diagnose! We are forced to in order to provide these kids with the services they need. Though, like those debating these high prevalence rates, this could be one of the many things contributing to these higher rates. Kids need services and the only way to get them is to put PDD, NOS in their file. It's not inaccurate, but could they be successful without it given the right early intervention? Sometimes, yes.

Once a child is labeled with any diagnosis they are automatically looked at as their diagnosis. People can't help it. This is the case with anyone and any label. This often leads to self fulfilling prophecies. For example. You hear a child has ADHD, you see that child taking something from another child, you automatically assume they are the child in the wrong. In the case of two kids, neither known for poor behavior, one would most likely ask what's going on before rushing to judgement, right? It is what it is, that label makes a difference. People, including teachers and other school personnel, will judge and have preconceived notions of who a child is based on a label. Proper education is often not provided in schools and even when it is, people still have their own ideas of what autism looks like. Parents with a child on the spectrum are fighting an uphill battle from the start, with their daycare, school districts, insurance companies, service providers... they don't need our judgments too.


So, there are new stats out and a new rush of debates over what autism is, how it's diagnosed and what causes it. But, in a few weeks all the hype will die down again. Soon after, those without a child on the spectrum will be looking at a mom, and judging her, as her child hums (loudly), thinking, that child is weird, why does she let him make such an annoying and disruptive noise? Or, maybe the child is rocking and you give a glance and wonder what's wrong with him. Maybe he is on the floor banging his head and as the mom tries to stop him the child becomes aggressive towards her and you think, oh. my. God. if my child acted like that towards me I would....

We become quick to judge, quick to think a child is odd, quick to hurry the other way because you don't want others thinking you are a part of the embarrassing scene playing out in the mall, at the grocery store or on the playground. You might even shuttle your kids away from the "strange" child because you aren't sure what they might do. Rylie isn't autistic but sometimes she can act a little "weird". I even think so. I see kids look at her funny, older kids usually. This always reminds me of the wonderful kids I used to work with and how their parents must have felt in similar situations. I get annoyed with these kids who look at my child funny, but more I think, what are their parents teaching them (or not teaching them) to make them treat others this way?

I think we as parents tend to stray away from difficult conversations. To me, seeing a child who is a bit "different" is a perfect opportunity to teach our children to embrace everyone's uniqueness. I had an opportunity to do this at the eye doctor about a year ago. I knew the child was autistic and he was struggling with the long wait. When he took the initiative to play, I helped Rylie with the same things I would help her with when interacting with any other child, sharing, working on introducing herself, praising her for appropriately interacting. I did this despite his frequent tantrums and aggression towards his mom. We didn't move to the other side of the room, I told his mom it wasn't a problem, tried not to make her feel any more embarrassed over her son's difficult behavior that other's were looking at. Sure, it was a little uncomfortable but teaching our children the right thing isn't always comfortable. I am certainly not looking forward to the oh so comfortable sex talks but we'll have them anyway, well, I hope parents have them anyway.

Bottom line, in a few weeks when the hype and debates from this new round of statistics fade and the autism awareness month campaigns are over, we'll once again be quick to forget. Forget that maybe the child we are looking strangely at, and judging his parent for how they are managing (or ignoring) his behaviors, is autistic. Or more accurately, on the infinite spectrum of autism.We'll be quick to forget that they aren't weird but simply unique, different, often quite intelligent, with a lot to offer the world, just like my child and just like yours. Let's try to remember. I too need to remember. These kids deserve better than our surly looks and their parents deserve more than our judgments. That's what I would want if it were me.