Dear Joe Scarborough

You are an idiot. It is not an "autism scale," it's a spectrum. Autism is not a "mental illness," it is developmental disorder. I can't believe a person with a son on the spectrum can be so ignorant. You did your child a huge disservice, and your "clarifying statement" can't undo it. Before you commit to educating the American public about autism, educate yourself!

To Marry or Not to Marry

Wow! Next month it will be four years since Mike and I moved in together and blended our families. That's longer than either of my marriages lasted. While we're all working so hard to defend marital rights for those who want them, can we please take a moment to recognize the right NOT to get married? Why should I need a legal document to define my relationship? And why do people automatically assume I'm gay when I say "my partner"? Mike is more than my boyfriend (I hate that word at my age). He's my partner, FOR LIFE. I'd like to call him my husband, because for all intents and purposes that's what he is. I don't need a piece of paper to make me believe that!...(but I would like a diamond ring and a big party!)

Ok, professor

I'm starting to talk like seven year old Spencer. Instead of asking my boyfriend if he was "almost done" in the bathroom I asked him if he was "nearly finished." It's so funny to hear my little peanut say that. "Spencer, are you done with your homework?" "I'm nearly finished, Mommy." Ok, professor.

Patience Required

Alex has been so difficult lately: very defiant, screaming at the top of his lungs when he doesn't get his way, flopping to the floor and refusing to get up. It's been taxing, and I realized yesterday that I've been taking his behavior personally. I've been getting upset and angry, and not engaging the same patience I would with a child at school with the same behavior. "I'm his mother. He should listen to me. He should let me help him deescalate when he's upset." In my desire to fix his problems I get frustrated, and it shows. Realizing my lack of patience yesterday made a difference. I was able to stay calm, and because I didn't let my anger show he, in turn, didn't get even more upset. Sigh of relief. Hopefully over the next week of being off of school we can both work on this and get better.

Birds and Bees

Spencer just asked me "Mommy, why does the man insert his p---- into the woman's va...va...?" I almost had a heart attack. He's reading his children's encyclopedia. I didn't realize there was a section on reproduction. With a nicely labeled illustration of the process. Egad! I told him why (to make a baby) and that animals do it, too. "That's weird," he said.

This is from an old Dixie Chicks song and pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now (aside from the "expecting you" part). If you know this song, you know it's about a guy breaking the singer's heart. That's not what I'm referring to here. I'm talking about that wonderful heartache called chronic depression. That thing that I always think I can get out of my life for good, despite the fact that I've battled it since childhood and have been diagnosed with a mood disorder. It's crept up on me once again. Now that I realize it, it's time to face it head on and get my life back on track.

Hello Mr. Heartache, I've been expecting you
Come in and wear your welcome out
The way you always do
You never say if you're here to stay
Or only passin' through
So hello Mr. Heartache,
I've been expecting you

Good Mourning

It's 5:00 in the morning and I've been wide awake for the last hour because I had an upsetting dream. I was pregnant. My partner wasn't thrilled about it but he was being supportive. I was very happy about it. I went into labor early and had to be rushed to the hospital. That's where the dream ended.

I felt so sad when I woke up. I'm just laying here thinking about why that is. I think I'm mourning that I'll never have a "normal" pregnancy, a "normal" birth, and a "normal" child. We get what we get in life, and we get it all for a reason. I believe that, and I wouldn't trade my life or my children for anyone else's, but I don't think I've really come to full acceptance yet.

Seven years, and I'm still grappling with the situation of my pregnancy and the boys' birth. In some ways I think the wounds ache more now then ever before. Maybe it's because I'm in a safe, supportive relationship now, in an emotional space where I'm able to feel these emotions and work through them. Maybe it's because I wish I could make a child with the wonderful man I'm with. I hate focusing on negatives, though. Maybe that's why its hard for me to accept that I have these feelings. I just want to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes it is so tempting to feel sorry for myself, and I just don't want to go there.

The truth is, I wanted a different path. I wanted to have a child while in a supportive, loving relationship. I wanted a healthy baby. I wanted to nurse. But beyond that...God, I love my children so fiercely. They are beautiful, healthy, smart, funny, and amazing. "Normal" isn't really a word in my family's vocabulary, anyway.