LaLaGirl – Twinfinite Chaos! Parenting Multiples and Dealing with Autism

Yay! First snow of the season. I’m cracking up at my kids – they are flipping out over the snow, like they’ve forgotten about the existence of snow altogether. They’re ready to go out and build a snowman, and I’m having a hard time convincing them that the light dusting we got of powdery, dry snow won’t stick together at all. Oh well. It’s Colorado, and I’m sure we have lots of snowman-worthy snow in our future. And I’m sure our biggest snowfall will occur after a 75 degree day, since that’s how it always goes around here.

I’m getting ready to meet Kayley and her dad over at her school for a parent teacher conference. (Cue scary music.) I have to take the little girls along with me, but maybe I can bring along some crayons or something to entertain them. I hate parent teacher conferences. I never realized how embarrassing it would be as a parent to have a slacker kid. I hate how WE are always judged by the teachers and given the hairy eyeball when Kayley doesn’t get her homework done or fails to turn it in, as if we’re somehow encouraging her to fail. We’ve done everything in our power to get her to step up and be a good student and she just has no interest whatsoever. I’m not sure where to go from here, but I’m picturing her having a career working at Target or something. Drag.

At least I have the little ones and their future music careers, right? They’ll take care of me in my old age – I’m sure of it!

Fingers crossed that K’s teachers have hopeful words for us!

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All of a sudden, I’m feeling hugely conspicuous, with the realization that I’m talking all about my mental and physical health here with people who actually know me in real life. I don’t know why it’s so easy for me to pour my heart out to the internets, but so difficult to share things with people who I see at the bus stop, but…it is. Already, my husband’s friends read stuff here, people from my twin club, naturally my own friends, but now…I just had a brief email exchange with K’s math teacher, and realized that I stupidly emailed her from my personal account with my email signature and blog link. D’oh! I know she’s probably not sitting around reading my blog. I have no doubt she’s busy dealing with apathetic, sarcastic middle schoolers who don’t turn in homework. Honestly, I’d rather deal with my own crazy ass life, dealing with autism and sassy kindergarten mouths and gallbladder attacks, than teach middle school. Those teachers are a special breed, for sure.

Still, though. I’m having a moment here.

Oh! I wanted to share my latest theory, though. While standing in front of an open dryer yesterday, folding lots of tiny pairs of underwear, I conjured up this whole new scenario. I’m thinking, you know – I’m behind on dental cleanings. I didn’t make my last appointment, so now it’s been a good year since I’ve been to the dentist. Maybe I just have some crazy cavity? You know? Like, a complete abscess or something. Maybe I need a root canal, even. Maybe that’s the cause of my headaches, and maybe that’s what they’re seeing on the CT scan – just an abscessed tooth or something. Maybe if I just got my ass to the dentist, we could avoid all of this drama! Six more days until the MRI. And then, knowing Kaiser, it’ll be another six days before they tell me whatever they need to tell me.

I’m not sure what the point is of my writing today. I guess I just need this as an outlet, even with the knowledge that everyone and their uncle reads it. So, I guess I’ll just write a few short notes:

• Dear Kayley’s Math Teacher: I’m sorry my child doesn’t turn in her homework. I wish I could figure out what I need to do to get her to care about school. I’m just DONE trying to force her to do it. I’m not going to be there to sit next to her and force her to go to her college classes, and force her to show up at her job, and force her to balance her checkbook, so I really just feel like she needs to man up already. But if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.

• Dear Daughters: Please stop fighting, whining, leaving poop in the toilet, jumping from the dresser to the bed and scaring the crap out of me, and blowing off your homework. You can figure out which of this applies to you.
• Dear Son: I adore you, little monkey. Please stop screaming every five seconds. People keep staring at us at the grocery store, and I’m afraid in my current state of mind, I’m going to go all Mama Bear on somebody. (Or worse, on YOU.)
• Dear Husband who doesn’t read this anyway: One more day! One more day and it’s all over! 24 hours from now, you’ll be halfway through the exam. And may I just say, even though you’ve been gone a whole lot, and it’s all been falling on me lately with the children, what an awesome husband you are? Coming home late, missing dinner, not seeing the kids, your head on fire from all the Bernoulli equations and soil classifications, and still – STILL, you take ten minutes to rub my temples and ask about my day! You rock, and I miss you so much, and I’m so happy we’re going to get to hang out soon.
• Dear Thing In My Head: Please be something easily fixable, or something I can safely ignore for the next 40 years. xo

Okay. I think I’m ready to attack the day.

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