Me, no my children, no me, no well… I’m not sure.
All I know is Tasha is going to kill me.
And its all my own fault.
Okay back to the beginning.
I may have written a blog post, that taken out of context, you know, if someone was picky, might be just a teeny tiny bit not complimentary about the youngest of my spawn.
Ah, but you point out, she’s not likely to read it.
True. And that is why I did such a foolhardy and dangerous thing.
But I forgot two important things:
- All the professionals in our lives have been nagging me to restart blogging and the family has caught on and are echoing those sentiments. Even if they suggest I mess around with my stupid blog, they are encouraging me in their own way.
- I have a problem with honesty.
Not a sensible approach to honesty, like
- Being honest,
- Saving others feelings and my hide with white lies,
- Lying freely.
But an insane version of honesty where:
- I lie for fun all the time, always making sure people know, after the joke, that I was lying.
- I mangle the truth so it is the truth from the perspective of the listener, making sure not to lie. For example for new age people who reject Autism as a thing I might reference Indigo child. Or if fainting will cause a hysterical over reaction ‘he is very tired’. Or they have agreed not to scream and cover their ears when I ask what they want to do that day and I describe them as making progress in their search for employment, not a lie.
- I tell everybody and anybody that even looks at me damaging truths that get me treated for stuff I probably need treatment for but I don’t wanna. I have to be completely honest with people about any symptoms or things like that or I start to hide and isolate and you know become the real me; a feral hermit crab with a sociopathic need to hide everything.
Plus something I have been told is acceptable in the writing world; exaggerating certain characteristics to make a character out of people I know.
That may be acceptable to writers but it is not always acceptable to my two youngest kids, or my MOTHER. I mean the two youngest love the idea of it, they love it when I do it to their sisters but…
I am supposed to be blogging and I wrote a blog post, so that is a good thing the family want to know about. But the very next question is what was it about. So I could lie, but I couldn’t actually let an outright lie stand because well the insanity I have previously written about.
So every time I see Tasha I feel a terrible need to blurt out what I have written.
I even broke down and showed Tash the scorpio picture. She hated it, but then she was really nice and gave me art tips and I feel really, really guilty.
So I could probably write a blog post about how wonderful Tasha can be. The interesting talks we have, how talented she is, how proud I am her.
But that’s not funny, and it gets old and boring fast.
So I shouldn’t write about my kids, says MOTHER.
But, well, yes, but…
They shouldn’t annoy when I am near a computer.
Anyway how else am I supposed to deal with the fact that I am living with my MOTHER, 4 adultish daughters and my husband who’s disability makes it difficult for him to remember or communicate. And we are all at home all the time. And they still want to sleep in my bed if they get upset over night, not Mum, not yet, oh my God, Mum could want to sleep, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Stop making me think things like this, you are bad people.
And sitting on my lap and asking for cuddles, again not Mum, she doesn’t like people cuddling people, that is what dogs are for, “honestly Lisa, you were not brought up like this!”
And having millions of therapists and confusing reality and U tube and refusing to obey the government, actually that last one is just Mum, she does not like being told what to do, she doesn’t care who you are; doctor, politician, police officer, she knows her own mind. Except she doesn’t and sometimes she just fights because… I don’t know, because she can.
Did I mention that they are at home all the time? Tasha now goes out to college 6 hours a week 8 with travelling bringing her total leaving the house per week to an average of 10 hours. Beating Cat at 7, Tab at 8 and Alex at 6, Tash and Cat’s absences cost me half that time in Gavin absences, and 4 of Tab and Alex’s out of the house is with me. I go out 5. And this is a week, although we are all trying to go out more, although we have been trying for the last ten years so…
Okay, right here I have to draw your attention to the fact that each of my daughters is locked into this unremitting chaos with her insane family too. Four, young geniuses (its been tested) with incredible talents, and the weirdest quirks and problems, not to mention the hormones of young women are stuck together. And despite all the wonderful things I have said about autism, the variation and idiosyncratic nature of the effects of this disability make cohabitation, well difficult. Probably not as much as living with a neurotypical person, or is that just my MOTHER.
To sum up:
- My kids are not as bad as I make them out to be.
- My kids are under pressure by our situation too and should be given some slack.
- My Mother is mean.
So, I presume you are expecting me to pick on my family less. Wrong! I am going to continue to make fun of my entire family, mwa ha ha ha.
Because I am under a lot of pressure and it leaks out, nobody in this family wants me to be upset I get scarily self destructive,
NOBODY wants me to get angry I get scary, so I have to laugh.
Oh and because I am evil, I almost forgot.
The main reason is because I am evil; Mwa ha ha ha.