Monthly Archives: February 2015

The Trampoline Situation

So, my son has Aspergers which, for those of you who don’t know, is marked by (among other things) a lack of social skills. We’re at this trampoline place (we’ve been here a couple times. It’s pretty awesome) and there are WAAAAAAAY more people here than normal. After 15 minutes of bouncing, he comes and says he’s tired, has a knot in his stomach and wants to go home. As much as it hurt me to tell him this, I told him no. I made him wait a few minutes and go back in. I know he doesn’t want to but sometimes we all have to do things we don’t want to do. He’s not having a meltdown or an anxiety attack, so I think I made the right call. It just sucks because I know how awkward new social situations can be and I hate them myself, but part of being a parent is trying to make your kid a better person than you are.

After-note: he just can back from bouncing to get a drink of water, catch his breath and to tell me he was going back in. (Good call, me. Good call)

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I’m so fucking aggravated

I am aggravated. I’m aggravated that my car is still fucking broken from a plow guy, I’m aggravated that my fiance thinks its okay to be passed out drunk at noon on a Tuesday. I’m aggravated that I can’t talk to my fiance about how aggravated I am because he’s passed out drunk at noon on a Tuesday. I’m aggravated that he thinks it’s okay to walk to the store in the snow to buy a 30 pack of beer, but that he’s too tired to come pick up our car at the mechanic and go pick up his prescriptions. I’m done with cars, plow guys and people in general. You know what I’m not done with? Coffee. Since I was 12, coffee has never let me down. It’s always been there; warm, comforting and will always listen to my insane rants. I’m tired of hearing “I’m sorry”. “Oh, I’m sorry i totaled your favorite car and almost killed your fiance” “oh, I’m sorry, but we wont be paying on this claim” “oh, I’m sorry that i hit your car with my plow truck and popped the bumper off and took the marker light with it” “oh, I’m sorry that when we fixed your car, we didn’t actually fix it and the marker light comes flying off as you’re driving over a bridge to go get your fiances anti depressant”. I’m sick of it, sick of all of it. I’m moving into a cave and not telling anyone where I am.

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