The Procrastinator's Guide to Vacation Planning (A Play. Abridged.)

Roles: Mother  Father  Son

Scene: Utter Chaos

September 2011: 

Look, both kids have spring break at the same time this year - starting on March 30th. Isn’t that great? We should plan a vacation! Because staying home alone with both kids is already giving me the tremors.

October:  NA

November: NA

December:  NA

January 5, 2012:  

Brr. Let's talk about going to the beach on Spring Break. 

Remember last year, when we went on a beach vacation for my birthday instead of having a party (score one for mom)? Can we do that again?

Sure!

January 10: So which beach should we go to? Fly? Drive? Lots of possibilities, but so many factors to consider.

·    A beach that's not too crowded BUT crowded enough that our ruckus doesn't disturb too many people.

·    Will everyone be in a decent enough mood?

·    Can we tolerate a long drive or a flight?

·    What will be the obsession du jour? Will it be transferrable?

·    Where are my migraine pills???

January 11: 

Hey mom, I Googled beaches and wrote down a list of the ones I like. Look at this one. And this one. Aren’t they perfect?

January 15:  

So where are we going?

Do your homework. 

 January 20: 

Dad, I made a list of pros and cons for each of the beaches and hotels we talked about. What do you think?

January 25: A Text Exchange

9:52 am: What do you think of Puerto Rico?

10:25 am: Have you gone insane? Who do you think we are?

11:02 am: We rarely go on vacation (rarely leave the house). We should go all out. We’ll need to update our passports. Can you take care of that this week?

11:03 am: Have we met?

February 5: 

Mom, Are we REALLY going to the beach? 

Of course.

When will we know where? 

By your birthday. Promise.

February 9: Text:  We need to talk about vacation.

February 11: Text:  We need to talk about vacation.

February 14: Text:  We need to talk about vacation.

Birthday comes and goes.

March 9: An email exchange

2:07 pm: If we’re really going anywhere, we should make plans.  I can use points from here, book this ticket, use a companion ticket and we can fly first class to Miami. We’ll just have to take the 8 am flight.

2:11 pm: Fine. Just book it. I don’t want to talk about this vacation again until we’re there.

March 11: A text exchange

We need to talk about vacation.

Didn’t you book it?

It was too complicated. I couldn't do it online. There are only a few seats left. And not ONE of them is together. 

Speed-dials phone. We’re driving anyway. No way can I get our act together enough to fly. That involves actually packing in suitcases. In advance!

March 16: 

Want to check out the new places we are considering within driving distance?

No, I’ve learned my lesson. Tell me when you make a decision.

March 19: Text:  We need to talk about vacation.

March 23: 

Have you decided? I can’t wait to go in the ocean and jump the waves. 

Hmm, Place A and B are great beaches, but might be too cold. Spend next hour trying to convince son that being on the beach with a jacket is just as fun. No can do.

March 25: 

Google Surf Reports at various locations. Call hotels and ask if anyone is swimming in the ocean.

One hotel receptionist: Sure, off and on. But I probably wouldn’t.

Can you connect me to reservations? 

Book hotel. Hooray!

March 25: Daughter packs suitcase with bathing suits. Only. Hour-long tantrum ensues when told we are not leaving quite yet. Repeat exercise daily until departure.

March 26: A Text Exchange

We can still drive to Miami if we stay somewhere else on the way. Extended email description of route, hotel stops and timing follows.

Is there something wrong with the reservations we made yesterday?

No. Just looking at all the options.

NO MORE OPTIONS! PLEASE!

March 30: Depart for vacation. Start planning for next spring break.

END SCENE

My Secret Identity

I’m not shy. In fact, on the surface I’m probably guilty of too much blabbing and oversharing. (Duh – I have a personal blog, right?)

On certain topics, I’ll gladly pull my soapbox out of my back pocket anytime…and probably forget to pack it back up soon enough. This was both my strength and weakness in corporate politics, depending on the integrity and ego of the room.

However, at the same time, I deeply value my privacy and family walls. Thus, the decision to write anonymously came quite easily.

As I thought about what I hoped to share on this blog, I knew that I would self-censor way too much if our crazies were out there as a peep show for personal, business and community acquaintances. I would worry about hurting someone’s feelings or unintentionally harming important relationships – either present or future. Not only would it hurt my brain to have to think through the reactions of specific readers to everything I post, it probably would result in some incredibly boring writing.  Nobody wants that!

Still, I have recently shared my secret identity and URL with a few close friends and family members…and some have encouraged me to go public. They think I’d benefit from talking more about my story. I appreciate the sentiment, guys, but NO THANK YOU.

You see, I am quite fortunate to have a close network of special needs moms with whom I can laugh, cry and share ideas. I have discovered another wonderful, close-knit community of like-minded, special needs parents on Twitter – even though they don’t even know my real name. If you know someone newly diagnosed or have ideas to share, by all means, here’s my phone number. And as for helping others and teaching tolerance and inclusion: Trust me, this family can’t go out in public without spreading “awareness.”

I really don’t think I could take the extra “support,” judgment and sympathy that would result from acquaintances knowing our baggage. I mean what would you say to me after a particularly ridiculous post? Or if you know you’re guilty of 8 of the Top 10 Things Not To Say To a Special Needs Mom? Awkward! I would rather not put any of us in that situation.

A few other considerations:

• My children’s safety. Creepy people are out there, and my children are vulnerable and DAMN cute. I’m not going to make any introductions!
• Their right to privacy. The internet does not have a delete or rewind button. I certainly can overshare myself if I choose to do so, but what if a future employer or a friend’s parent Googles my kids? Is it really fair to them to have all this out there for others to prejudge them? Or avoid them because they have a wackjob mother?
• This is kind of like my diary. Have you published yours? Of course not. You put a padlock on it and later shredded it. Right?

If you still have counterpoints for everything above, that’s fair. But here’s something that is non-negotiable. My son is 11. He knows how to use a computer. And he knows his mother is a writer. Not only does the thought of him stumbling upon and reading this make me wince, cringe and hide, but he has specifically asked me NOT to write about him.

A couple of years ago, he looked over my shoulder and caught a Facebook status update I’d written with his name in it…documenting some cutesy thing he said (probably elicited Aws from half of my “friends” and eye-rolls from the others). My son was horrified.

It objectively wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing but, to him, I was Kitty Kelley. He begged me never to write about him again, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t forgiven me for it. Two years later, he can still quote the status update AND says he hates Facebook and thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous to share things like that with others (smart kid).

So please don’t tell him I told you that story.

And if you do know who I am, you are part of the secret circle of witness protection. I’ll fundraise and advocate for autism awareness. I’ll openly discuss doctors, therapies, schools and diagnoses with strangers in waiting rooms. I am not ashamed of who we are. But for now, I cannot publish my byline on something this personal and permanent.

Thank you for understanding and respecting My Whac-A-Mole Life.

Hits and Misses

Sometimes, things can best be summed up in bullet points. Or ranked. Or listed. I mean, who doesn't love a list?

This one's about some good stuff and some bad stuff that's happened recently. (See how inelegant I am today? Bullet points to the rescue.)

I tried to be all thematic about it, so instead of “cheers and jeers” or “highs and lows” I'm going with Whac-a-Mole Hits and Misses (get it…the moles). Here we go.


HITS  

• This gorgeous design. I can’t say enough about Ro Little with Mommy Blog Designs. She lives in my computer (aka Canada) and is responsive, collaborative and talented. Loved working with her. If at any time you don’t like what you’re reading, just picture me pointing  and saying, "oooh, look at the pretty stars.”
  
  
• Cute kid moments. The best concept ever taught to my 7-year-old nonverbal daughter with autism: mimicry. Her severe apraxia hinders her from forming words even when she’s trying so-very-hard, but watching and mimicking others helps her learn how to do it. Additionally, like many with similar diagnoses, she's also quite literal, so we often must play the role of detective to figure out exactly what she means. For example, this particularly tricky but funny moment happened this week. After running around in my usual frenzy, I complained to my husband that “I am so hot.” Seconds later, the adorable devil-child came over and blew on me...just like an extra hot slice of pizza. So sweet!

• Medical miracles. Two medical events for us this week - with the unusual twist of them being for the adults in the house. I had a (roughly) annual physical and my husband enjoyed his first colonoscopy - which, by the way, he insisted on undergoing fully awake with NO anesthesia ('lil bit nuts). Once becoming a parent, health and mortality usually take on a whole new depth. With special needs kids, it's absolutely terrifying to think about how they would thrive without us. I cannot take for granted that this week's two medical events were routine and uneventful...a huge hit! 

 MISSES

• Blogging apps. Per my last entry, I am still bitter about my lost post, but I won't take all the blame. These blogging apps – and I’ve tried most of them  – have ridiculously limited capabilities with too much room for user error. The biggest hindrance for me is that they don’t sync drafts and posts well. I think I'm going to try to draft posts in Evernote going forward. Except for now...and probably ever. Great idea though, right?
  
  
• The hidden costs of autism. All children add expenses to your life, but special needs kids incur so much more than one would think. I don't just mean the obvious therapies, interventions and adaptive equipment. A friend of mine did a hilarious PowerPoint featuring all of the expensive broken items in her home - damaged by autism. Sensory needs, impulsiveness, compulsions and tantrums all contribute to mass destruction. So my daughter likes to touch and use everything. Liquids are a favorite and MUST be poured out, shaken up, mixed or guzzled for entertainment. My expensive contact lens cleaning solution? Squeezed down the drain. My whole bottle of shampoo? Perfect as bubble bath. The orange juice carton? All gone, since why stop pouring when the cup is full? And even Costco-sized hand soap doesn't last very long in our home between her excitement about spilling it down the sink paired with my son’s hand-washing obsession. Cha-ching! (I will, however, file the iPad save as a "hit" since I managed to convince her to NOT toss it out of the car window. Score one for Mom!)
  
  
• Cleaning up a box of uncooked spaghetti. (And yes, of course, my daughter was the one who spilled it out. On purpose.)
  
  
• Bathroom disasters. Remember that mimicking talent? Well, sometimes...not so cute. After dear daughter tried flushing an entire roll of toilet paper (post-poop), clogged the toilet AND attempted to plunge it (all somehow accomplished within the mere 22-second window when she wasn’t directly supervised in the bathroom), I had to don plastic gloves and dig it out myself. The whole disgusting mess was in a trash bag for 1 minute before she tried to put on the same gloves herself and dig right back in the toilet. Liquids, right?  GOOD LORD!

My Blog Has a Fancy, New Design...But All I Got Was This Lousy Post

I've been MIA for a couple of weeks, and it's a shame because my blog has never looked better. I am loving the new design, and I hope you like it too. I guess what this means is that I've decided to commit to this blogging thing for awhile so I hope you’ll stick around.

For me, blogging makes sense. Since I was 7 and throughout my career as a professional writer, people have asked me if I was planning to write a book. As much as I love to write and tell stories, I usually stick to non-fiction. I've never felt the stirrings of the great American novel, and my descendants won't enjoy the bounties of a dusty manuscript discovered in a locked, desk drawer and published posthumously. I can posit, however, that my subject - or rather two of them - finally did find me, and provide enough fodder for a prolific (I'm talking Patricia Cornwell) series.

That said, I do not suffer from writer's block. I've got loads of post ideas all over the place – some partially written, some already committed (working on it @jillsmo) and some hanging on a dwindling brain cell thread (not likely to be remembered long enough to see the light of day). See, in addition to my cathartic need to write and not-always-pleasant experience churning out words under tight deadlines, I do have a funny-crazy life with lots of musings, opinions and anecdotes that probably will, in turn, make you laugh, cry and consider committing me.

So, you ask, if I have so much to say and no writer's block, why the hell don't I share all this brilliance more frequently? It's because I suffer from a lesser known blogger's malady known as “time block.” I have about 4 hours a day to do it all: work, clean, shop, shower...you know the drill. Otherwise, I am driving to and from schools inconveniently located 25 miles apart (how dumb am I?) or home, but unable to move my eyeballs off of my children for fear of a number of ludicrous but realistic scenarios and disasters.

Quiet and Time are my holy grail. That why I was so pleased a couple of weeks ago when I finally completed an absolutely delightful post (trust me) to complement this delightful new design. Now, as a master multitasker and closet tech geek, I manage this blog across several electronic devices and a number of blog editing apps. So after completing this Pulitzer-worthy post (guess you'll just have to take my word for it) on my laptop, I planned to cross the final metaphoric 't' on a mobile app while waiting in carpool line. Big mistake. Huge.  Instead, I somehow deleted the whole, darn mess.

I've recovered posts before through some Google subterfuge, but not this one. All gone. And THAT’S why I haven’t had the heart to revisit or rewrite anything since. And I still haven’t. You’re stuck with this ridiculous dear-diary-mumbo-jumbo instead. Sorry.

To make it worth your while, I am going to introduce a new series here on My Whac-A-Mole Life later today. See, you get two posts for the price of one. Because, while one with Time Block cannot fathom writing (or reading) the great American novel, I do have plenty of stories to tell. Oh yes, you just wait!

Oh, and thanks for hanging out with me. Let me know what you think of the new look and the ongoing evolution of My Whac-A-Mole Life.

xoxo, Gossip Girl

(Oops. I had to get that out of my system. I won't do it again. Promise.)