The hardest part of being single...

Fingers, rough with calluses from a life spent working with his hands, interlaced with mine. Palms barely touching.

Fingertips running up the back of my arms, barely applying pressure, propel me forward into strong arms that wrap around me as those same hands smooth across my back to hold as much of me beneath them as possible.

A firm chest to mold myself to like clay against brick.

Long legs mingled with mine as we lay on the couch together watching tv. My toes stretched as far as I can get them to reach yours, both covered in socks. Footsies.

A firm grip of hot hands on my hips in animal lust and the feel of teeth scraping skin. Small temporary tattoos of the places where you laid claim to my body like the first settlers' deep footprints on the beach.

The whisper of lips against the back of my neck that makes my thoughts scramble & my breath rush from my lungs.

My cheek pressed against the center of his back between broad shoulders wet with tears when I need to cry but can't stand to be held. Hands laid over the back of mine as I cling to him like a plank when I'm floating in a sea of misery. The need to hold without being held because anymore pressure than that means you'll unravel yourself.

The pulse of the promise of nothing, and yet everything, as he empties his soul inside you.

Promises are sometimes made to be broken.

I miss being touched so much as I lay in the dark.

The Only Parent...

If you follow me on Twitter, then you’ll know the gist of this conversation from last night. If not, go check me out. @TwinsMa I’ll wait…ok, hurry up.

Anyways, I texted the ex last night to inform him of the doctor’s diagnosis of Autism in relation to my little Twin B, Screech. It was something simple about there being a cancellation, we went, he’s Autistic, I’ll mail you paperwork as soon as I get it.

A few minutes later my phone rings. I wasn’t expecting to hear anything at all. The first time I texted him to let him know that Twin A had been diagnosed as Autistic he never replied. I had to text him 3 days later and ask if he got the text. His reply? “Yea and it sucks”. Thank you for that caring and sensitive response to one of the most life changing words ever used to describe my child, you moronic douchecanoe.

So, when my phone rang I didn’t really expect to see that number pop up on the screen. I answered with that careful hello you use when you aren’t sure you should be answering the phone. You know the one. "Hell-ooooo?" You can practically see the question mark when someone answers the phone like that. It’s more than hello, it’s "Why in the hell are you calling me?" and "What the eff do you want now?" all wrapped into one extended “o”.

I get a distressed, "So you mean to tell me he has it too?". (Umm, yes, dumbass. I don’t send you these messages just to fuck with you. I don’t like you enough to initiate contact just to mess with you. At least that’s what I was thinking.) What I actually said was, “Yes. She diagnosed him today after evaluating him and testing his speech and motor skills.”.

His next question…and you’re gonna spit whatever is in your mouth out when you read this so swallow first…”When will they outgrow it?”.

Now, for someone who has no clue what Autism is, I’d be a little more forgiving when they ask this question. I’ve already been asked it by some well-meaning relatives who didn’t know that Autism is a neurological disorder. The reason this pissed me off is because I mailed him all kinds of paperwork about Autism long before this conversation occurred. He had the doctor’s full report about Twin A’s, aka Noggin’s, evaluation as well as all papers she gave me about Autism and a page of websites to look up online and a list of books to check out from the library. Just the papers were enough to inform him of exactly what Autism is and the fact that it isn’t curable or something they will outgrow.

I wanted to reach through the phone and choke the man to death. He has valuable information about his child, HIS CHILDREN, and he doesn’t even read it. He doesn’t put any effort into learning about what he will be facing with his kids if he ever sees them again. I hated him in that moment enough to burn a whole through his head with my eyes if he had been standing in front of me. He has so much bad karma right now I hope the earth opens up and swallows his ass in an angry red blazing ball of fury one day really soon.

Anywho, I am so over it. I’m done being nice to him. I’m done trying to keep him informed. I will mail him the copy of the report from the doctor, along with any new material she provided me, then I will not inform him of anything else. I’m done. If he can’t take the time to learn about his children in order to help them lead better lives when they may be in his care, I’m done. He’s a lousy excuse for a man.

I will continue to educate myself about how to best care for my kids. I will continue to advocate for them in the school system and with their doctors. I will continue to provide them with the best care that I’m capable of. I’m their mother. I’m their only parent.

This isn't the first time one of you has scared the hell out of me...

My heart pounds in my ears. My breath comes in bursts between my screams, yelling your name, begging you to stop.

I run. I’ve lost my flip flops. My feet slam the ground, toes digging for grip. In an instant I can feel the dirt and grass beneath my feet, the wind pressing against my face, my own hot breath pulled against my cheek as I call to you. I feel my muscles bunch and stretch as I throw my legs one in front of the other, catching my body with each step as I lean into my fear.

I chase you, blind to anything in my way. I have tunnel vision as I focus on every step you take with your chubby little legs. Every step takes you one more further from me and one more closer to danger.

I keep calling to you as I run, my voice takes on a panicked screech as you move away from me causing others to stop mid-movement and turn to see. The reaction is visceral, a plea for help as plaintive as blood on skin. I won’t stop until I catch you.

As I gain on you, I can hear you giggle. You’re completely unaware that you are closing in on something that can hurt you. Oblivious to potential hurt and pain. I am all too aware of it.

Your hair glistens in the sun as I overtake you. Your cheeks are flushed from exertion, as I’m sure mine are glaring red with both exertion and fear.

I reverse gravity as I force myself off the ground in front of you and turn towards you. I see your eyes widen as I suddenly appear in front of you. In one fluid movement I have wrapped my arms around you, picked you up, and smothered your face in kisses.

I’m crying and I didn’t even realize it. Of all the things I felt in those moments running behind you across that field, trying to stop you from running over the bank into water over your head, I didn’t feel the tears streaming across my face and into my hair. I ran so fast they didn’t fall, they were pulled from my eyes back towards where I first spotted you in danger.

You’re startled, upset that I won’t let you down, yet smiling that I’m covering you with kisses.

We’re a tangled mess of emotions, aren’t we?

Don’t ever do that again. EVER.

Just because...

I love you…just because.

I put no prerequisites on you to make me love you. I just love you.

You bring joy to my heart just being yourself.

That’s all I need.

I love you.

The sound of my own voice...

My son was diagnosed as Autistic almost a month ago. Since then I’ve learned so much about his behavior, my behavior, and the behavior of those around us.

I’ve learned about “stimming” behavior, I’ve learned about communication, and I’ve learned about echolalia.

My son uses echolalia as a great proportion of his language. He repeats lines from movies, things he’s heard others say, and scripted lines meant to allow him to communicate his needs to me.

This is where I’ve began to learn about the importance of communication and the words that come out of my own mouth.

There have been a few embarrassing moments when my son has repeated something I’ve said that I thought was under my breath. “Oh, shit!” Oops…

There have been moments that made me stop and take a deep breath. Instances when he’s repeated back something I’ve said furiously in the heat of the moment out of frustration. You never know how mean you can sound until you hear yourself repeated back in the same tone and volume by your child. It’s like a glass of ice water to the face.

Then there are the moments that melt your heart. “I love your hair. I love your shirt. It’s (b)eautiful!”, said not only back to me but also to his sister when she shows him her dress or to his brother when he shows him his shirt.

There are so many people out there that have absolutely fallen in love with my son. I’ve been told numerous times by people that they’d take him home with them if they could.

I know that I may have my moments where I don’t always say the right things, but I’m pretty sure that I’m saying enough of the right things to make a difference. Many of the people who are around my son are hearing what I’m saying to him because he’s echoing me and the other people in his life that surround him.

My son is loving and kind, smiling and happy, affectionate and friendly…thanks to the people we surround ourselves with and the love they have for my kids.

So listen to those things he’s echoing back to you because they may be exactly what you needed to hear.

My freedom...

The fourth of July is always about freedom. Wild and free, free to choose, freedom reigns, etc...blah, blah, blah.

Here I am. I'm finally free.

I'm finally able to accept the fact that I said I do for all the wrong reasons. I'm free of those cursed words.

I'm able to look at myself and see a better person. I'm no longer constantly unhappy because I'm worried I'll be in a huge argument when I get home. The only thing that is home when I get there now is me. And the 3 most important little children in the world. ;)

I'm free to search for a good man. Just the fact that I can look now without feeling guilty is like the wind in my hair. Oh hell, yea. I see you looking at me. You better believe I'm much more aware of who's watching me now.

I'm free to be. Just be. I can stop and sit without anyone telling me that I'm lazy because I stopped doing everything for just a few minutes.

I'm free from being chained to an alcoholic who was verbally, and in the end physically, abusive.

I AM FREE!!!!!!!