Flowers Are Pretty (Except When Scattered on My Floor in Shards of Glass)

WIN A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS - COMMENT BELOW TO ENTER

Some complicated, new disclosure laws have caused upheaval in the blogosphere, requiring all kinds of fancy language around sponsored posts. Well, of course! The good news here, though, is we don't have to worry about any of that today. Here's your disclaimer: The sponsor is giving me absolutely NOTHING. You get a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Me? Nada. Except, hopefully, your adoration and gratitude, so give it generously!

As you can imagine, I hear from and turn down so many sponsors wanting to give you stuff (that's a lie), but when Teleflora contacted me, I jumped on it for two reasons  First, it allows me to give YOU something quite lovely. And second, I immediately remembered that I snapped this pic awhile ago and have been waiting for just the right moment to share it. Win and win. (Really, can you BELIEVE sponsors aren't beating down my door!)

Happy Valentine's Day, Sucka!

So, my husband brought me flowers on Valentine's Day. I tell him time and time again, I don't care about celebrating Valentine's Day, but I know he's not sure if I mean it.

I swear I honestly mean it, but he wasn't willing to take the risk...so he gave me this completely original bouquet of red roses (wherever did he come up with the idea?). In a vase. A glass vase. Oh they sure were pretty. And "pretty" always translates into "too pretty for our home."

She Talks Funny

My Child Is Not Your 'Teachable Moment'

We're perched at a rectangular, kid's-size table in the art room of an indoor play gym, and she is painting a collection of methodically selected picture print-outs. Embracing her focus and age-appropriate activity - ephemeral as it will be - I attentively respond to her endless, artistic demands like an attendant in an operating room. I don't want to break the spell.

Her word approximations erupt loudly, jumbly and jolty: "Wa du"..."On-ch"..."hep." Instinctively, I know to present water for her paintbrush; fresh, orange paint; and the help she wants un-sticking her painted papers - all the while, rewarding and validating my autistic, apraxic child's emerging language and articulation.

A younger boy enters, maybe around 4 or 5, his mom by his side. (I know this because be calls her "mom" with the startlingly perfect clarity and tone that sucker-punches me every time. It shouldn't surprise me to hear children half her age orating like rock stars, but somehow it still does.)

Party On, Dudes (And Be Excellent To Each Other)

There are some things IRL friends just don't understand. Generally, if you're not a blogger, online parties make absolutely no sense. Amiright?

And if I'm being honest - which OF COURSE I always am - they still confuse me a little bit too.

That said, I participated in the ULTIMATE (say it loudly with jazz hands, please) Blog Party in 2012 and discovered some fantastic blogs and new friends. Even better, I can stay safe and sound in my "special needs" category - my peeps - and not be intimidated by the likes of those beauty and style bloggers.

So, here we are again. I'm supposed to write a post telling you all about who I am and my little corner of the Internet. Instead, using my trademark methods of cheating  laziness my-child-is-screaming-in-my-ear-for-eleven-chicken-nuggets efficiency, I will share with you some posts that give the ugly, hairy, ridiculous picture of what you'll find here.

Awareness Galore: A Collection of Autism Awareness Month Posts

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