It's not easy being me...

Back when I was single and I had time to read self help books, I remember reading one that oprah recommended called 'Simple Abundance'. I liked it, and I often wonder what I was so miserable about in my thirties that I felt the need to improve upon myself. Hey, at least I am 'co dependent no more', how many people can actually say that.
I don't remember much about that book except for the concept of a gratitude journal. The idea is to list five things that you were thankful for in a little journal at the end of the day. I found it really helpful when I needed to keep my young ,single ,much smaller dress size ,chin up. I think I need to start doing it again. I am not really seeing the forest for the trees these days.

This school situation has really got me down. We had annuals last week and while we decided not to keep bubs back in kindergarten, I am not entirely thrilled with the overall outcome. I just got a very dismal speech eval home today. I guess I spent the last three years of bubs' life on high alert. It was a constant state of involvement, of information, of keeping me in the loop. While I didn't have a whole lot of control, I felt like I did. That is important to me. The illusion of control can serve in a pinch when the actual control is not available.
I don't like getting these bombs sporadically and when I least expect it. This latest eval included some kind of observational report that the teacher fills out. It's a 'sometimes, often, always' kind of thing. Apparently my son 'always' has trouble asking questions, understanding questions, asking for help, answering questions, forming sentences, yada yada ad infinitum'. Seriously, my son has never answered a question all year? He has never formed a meaningful sentence all year? Maybe he is saving them all up for when he gets home, because honestly my child makes his points known and if you don't acknowledge that you have heard and understood, he will keep asking.
She also said my son 'always has trouble asking for help'. I just cannot imagine what happens after I put my son on the bus in the morning. Does the bus driver pass through some magic force field where in my son loses all ability to speak? Does he slip into a vegetative coma, only to return upon safe delivery at my door? It's a very interesting phenomenon.
And another thing, while I am ranting. Why, oh why am I just finding out about this situation? It's May for God's sake. May. If I were the teacher, I would be embarrassed to send that home. I always felt, even as a humble art teacher that a child's success hinged on me being able to teach them. If they failed, then I failed.
I have been a nice mom this year, I have been non confrontational, almost self depreciating and very very understanding. I am leaving that persona in the dust. I am now the terminator. I am now kicking butt and taking names. I don't know what I am going to do or ask for, but the tide has changed.

Oh yeah, back to gratitude. I have many many things to be thankful for.
I am thankful that I have my wild child boy who never stops talking and always makes his point known to me. I am thankful he asks me for help and saves up all of his meaningful stories for me.
I am thankful that my husband loves me. He might not always understand the inner workings of my tormented mind, but he accepts me for who I am. He is a good egg.
I am thankful that I have my house, we have food in the cabinets, and we have our health. We are a lucky little family
I am thankful for all the amazing people that this journey has sent our way. I wouldn't wish the stress and worry that autism has caused us, but there have been many gifts that I wouldn't have received without it.
Little things are big things.

I am all over the place here. I know.