“Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Force are they…if once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will…”

I've encountered some very disturbing behavior lately. 

Recently, I've witnessed more than a few examples of  blatant bullying, tangible teasing, mean-spirited mocking, and ringing rudeness. Now, rudeness itself is nothing new, people are rude all the time. Heck, I'm rude every day until at least halfway through my first cup of coffee. This particular series of indiscretions is striking however, one, because it's starting to look like a pretty disgusting pattern, and two, because despite it's extremely childish and immature nature it's not coming from kids, it's coming from other adults and, most specifically, other MOMS!! 

Now, let's be honest, we all know that girls of all ages can be capable of some pretty grandiose displays of "diva". As a group, we ladies are known for, at least occasionally, being catty, competitive and conniving. It's nothing new to overhear two moms in a Starbucks play can-you-top-this over everything from who has the nicer stroller to which kid starting pooping solids first. For whatever reason, maybe deeply ingrained insecurity, we can't seem to pass up an opportunity to be superior. (Before you start drafting hate mail, I know that men feel insecure and get competitive, and I know that there are exceptions to every rule, but you have to admit that we women have earned a reputation for our very unique brand of passive aggressiveness.) 

As we grow and become adult women, we learn (from our mothers and theirs before them) how to be just snooty enough to satiate that little green monster inside us but we've sort of collectively agreed to draw the line at outright meanness (it's like an unspoken girl code etiquette of bitchiness). 

Heck, mastering the charm of the back-handed compliment is the crowning achievement of a true southern belle! The best of us even have the fine art of snark down to nothing but a look (commonly known as "Bitch face"). After all, as Kathy Griffin says, "This is the South, we have manners! We talk about you behind your back!" 


However, as our culture becomes less face-to-face and more Facebook, the nature of our interactions with each other is evolving. It used to be the case that moms, especially stay-at-home moms, had to get together in person to socialize their children and themselves. Now we have social media in our hands at all times and it is changing the way we interact with each other. 

You've probably noticed that people seem a lot more courageous on the internet. We've all seen people "comment" things that they NEVER would have said to someone in person. Subtlety has become a lost art. If we think we may have crossed the line we can throw in an "LOL" or a Smiley Face / Winky emoticon and then fall back on "I was just kidding" if someone actually has the nerve to get their feelings hurt. 

We've even developed a new brand of passive aggressive communication: the meme. 

It's the ultimate way to vaguebook. We cloud our insults and self-importance in comedy and overly-generalized comments paired with funny and ironic images that could or could not be about anyone or everyone, and then we sit back dare people to get offended. 

I'm just as guilty of this as the next guy, I'm sorry to say. My sense of humor is founded largely on sarcasm so I can appreciate a good, spirited jab and it takes an awful lot to truly offend me. Sometimes I just think this inane stuff is hilarious and I'll be the first to admit that I've often had the attitude that if someone can't take a joke it's their problem and they shouldn't be so sensitive. Which, ironically, is not at all the way I would actually behave in person. In reality, I'm a bit of a people-pleaser and it truly distresses me if I think I've hurt someone. 

I recently had a bit of a wake up call after a conversation with my very sweet and conservative aunt, who was offended by the language in  some of the things I was "liking" and "sharing". 

I thought she was confused about how Facebook works and I tried to explain to her that just because I hit the "like" button on something doesn't mean I generated it (aka, not responsible for it). She stated very simply that it didn't really look like much of a difference.  If I'm liking and sharing things that I know will show up to others with my name next to it, then it really doesn't matter if I'm the one who "created" it, it's still coming from me.  

I'll be honest, my first thought was hey, I'm an adult, it's a PERSONAL page and all my "friends" are adults, if she doesn't like it she can get over it. Sound familiar? That's the way of the web, isn't it? I'll do what I want and if other people don't like it they can pack sand.  And you know what, people have every right to make that choice, as long as they are comfortable with the truth, that they'll be alienating people. 


The more I thought about what my aunt said, the more I realized that my behavior on the internet really is a reflection of who I am just as much as my behavior anywhere else. I also considered the fact that I truly don't want to offend her or any of my other loved ones who may not share my often twisted sense of humor (just because I like a thing, doesn't mean I ALWAYS have to hit 'like' and 'share' it). 

In addition to that, I was raised to be a person of integrity. I know that there's a time and a place for certain behavior, yet for some reason I wasn't behaving quite as deliberately online. I wasn't posting graphic nudity or anything I considered to be vulgar, and I wasn't the one creating the images/posts/etc. with the foul language.  so it never occurred to me that I should take any responsibility for my involvement in it. 

I wasn't really giving any thought to my actions, despite knowing that I have a very wide variety of contacts that are exposed to my online activities. I always thought of it as "just facebook", so I never took it that seriously and I wasn't really considering the message I was sending to others (I figured that only mattered if you were trying to get a job or something). 

But that's the thing, isn't it? The internet is still REAL LIFE. Your actions on the internet are still your actions. 

Sobering thought for some of us, isn't it?!

Now, this offense of mine was relatively minor in the grand scheme of all things internet. It was an accidental result of careless behavior, but it certainly wasn't mean spirited. 
(Spoiler alert: casual disregard breeds active disrespect, which is a gateway drug to bullying.)


What really concerns me is that out of this culture of carelessness and "if you don't like it, don't read it" there is a growing phenomenon of increasing audacity! It's as if we are starting to truly believe that once we are behind a computer screen we aren't accountable for our behavior, especially when it comes to what we "say" to other people. 

As if it wasn't bad enough, things really start to escalate when we branch out of our personal pages and join other groups and communities where most of the people we're interacting with are strangers to us. If we thought we actually had to see them again, we may at least think twice about what we're saying and doing. However, as soon as we are in an environment where we know we'll most likely never have to meet any of these people "in real life"there starts to be a serious breakdown in human decency.  

Perhaps, since most of us were first exposed to technology as children playing video games, we have no frame of reference for taking it seriously. Maybe that's why as long we are hiding behind the glass of our computers, we treat our interactions like a video game where the people aren't real, their feelings don't matter and our actions have no consequences. 

Who cares if I throw a bomb at her? She's got like 6 lives left and she'll just regenerate in the next level!



Speaking of people who play video games...

I recently submitted this photo and caption to a page I like that is directed at moms who play video games and have kids that play video games:

Last night I programmed my kids' tablets so they only get 2 hours of screen time. After that the only apps they can access are learning and reading apps. This also applied to the Xbox, the rule being that a timer on the tablet tracks the Xbox use and applies it to the Screen Time total. So, what happens when the kids have to get creative with their free time??? THIS.        ‪#‎skylanders‬ ‪#‎notallgamingisdigital‬

*For those of you that are confused, this is a princess castle that my daughter was playing with. My son decided to bring his Skylanders to join the fun. It's funny on multiple levels - the mix of "boy"/"girl" toys and my son's commitment to playing with the Skylanders even though he couldn't play the Skylanders video game. 

The page shared my post on their wall as a "Fan Share" for the other members of the page to view. Most of the other moms on the page enjoyed the post and thought it was funny, and more than a few wanted to know which app I used so they could use it, too (it's for android and it's called Screen Time, but if you just do a search for 'parental control app' in your play store dozens of options will pop up). Those that were uninterested or didn't like it simply ignored the post. Well, most of them.

Not so surprisingly , there were a few moms who just couldn't help themselves. (Oh, look! An opportunity to be superior!)

One Mom said: My daughter has this castle  she loves it. I would never ever give my kids a tablet or anything like that though. That's just wrong in my opinion. Kids need an imagination

Notice, of course, that she included the Smiley. The Smiley is the online woman's "bless your heart".  She has now assumed carte blanche to criticize my parenting. This broke the ice for a few of the other moms to chime in with her and I was starting to feel a bit ganged up on. 

(Side note: If you're offended by the idea of a kid playing with a tablet, why are you on a page for moms of kids who play video games? Like many other insults, it's probably just misplaced insecurity as she's clearly just jealous of my awesome Gryffindor Snuggie). 

It really irks me when other moms can't be supportive of each other! There's nothing that's quite as frustrating as being judged on your parenting skills by someone who knows nothing about you. I expect other moms, of all people, to be empathetic and considerate of this, and to be kind (yes, I know, I live in a fairy tale, but a girl can dream, can't she?!). Here I am on a page DEVOTED TO MOTHERS, a community dedicated to bringing moms with similar interests together. It should have been a safe place and it wasn't. (Is nothing sacred, ladies??) 

So, despite my not owing her an explanation, I felt I wanted to make a point and perhaps get Judgey McPerfect-Mom to think before she posts next time. 

So, I posted this reply: And to those who judge, My daughter is autistic. The tablet was purchased as part of her therapy. My son got one because he's constantly getting the short end of the stick as she consumes so much of our time and attention and well, we just felt that time it should be fair.

She didn't really respond (which indicates that she perhaps had the decency to be embarrassed if not the good sense to apologize) but other moms rallied around me in a show of support, which was nice to see. 

Problem solved, right? 

Well, no. AFTER this interaction, on the very same post, another mom went off on a fairly sizable, and down-right mean, rant (that can't be directly quoted since it was removed by the page moderators). She glanced at the picture and then proceeded to opine that she couldn't understand what the big deal was. She essentially wanted to know (rhetorically) why the page would post a picture of a kid playing with dolls in dollhouse. "That's how dolls are meant to be played with." She said that she didn't see why anyone was impressed that a kid could play with a toy the way it was made to be played with. She even had the brass cajones to acknowledge, in a very dismissive and derisive aside, that yeah, well, maybe if the kid is autistic it's a big deal, but seriously why does everyone else care, are your kids seriously that tuned in to video games that we think it's a big deal when they play with real toys, etc. etc. 

I'm not making this up. This went on for four paragraphs. 

This was no subtle display of disapproval, this was flat out offensive. She was rude, mean, hurtful, and, on top of that, she was wrong. She didn't look at the picture long enough to notice the Skylanders (or was ignorant about what Skylanders are) and consequentially, didn't "get" the joke. She spoke harshly and without all the facts (speaking out of turn, oh the great Achilles Heel of all creatures with language) and made herself look pretty absurd when all the other moms jumped to my rescue. 

It's really hard to be a mom, no matter what your situation is. Parenting decisions are deeply personal and we have all, at one time or another, encountered unfair and unproductive criticism. Even the strongest of us are going to respond emotionally  to attacks on our mothering and on our children (this often referred to as "mama bear mode" -that's not an accident). If ANYONE can understand that and be supportive, it should be other mothers. That is why it seemed so truly sad when this happened to me. The more I thought about this incident, the more upset I became. It occurred to me that if people can find a way to be hurtful and cruel over something as truly innocent as a picture of Skylanders in a princess castle, how would they behave in a situation that really mattered? 

I know it wasn't just me and it wasn't just that time, because I've seen it happen before. God forbid you post that you're not breastfeeding your new baby or post a picture of your kid eating non-organic hot dogs! Don't worry, someone will come along and shame you into submission, or at the very least validate your concerns that you might be a bad mom (because, don't we all feel that way sometimes). We're hard enough on ourselves, the last thing we need is someone coming in and picking at us. It's disgusting! I feel sick to think that unlike the mothers that came to my rescue, I have probably witnessed this type of thing on more than a few occasions and, out of fear of opening myself up to the attacks, done nothing about it. 

It was equally disconcerting to note that even some of the moms who "stood up" for me were behaving just as badly as the rude mom. One mother called her the "turd in the punch bowl". Sort of the pot calling the kettle black at that point, isn't it? 

When we fight bullying with more bullying all we're doing is perpetuating the cycle and nobody wins. 

This problem is not new and it's getting worse at an alarming rate. 

As I was researching this troubling trend I came across The Mom Pledge. 

The Mom Pledge was created by writer and mother Elizabeth Flora Ross, who was so bothered by this rapidly growing phenomenon that she decided to take action. 

"The Mom Pledge is about women standing up, speaking out, and coming together to end cyber bullying among moms, fostering respect, understanding and acceptance. http://themompledge.com/" *taken from The Mom Pledge Facebook Page. 

You should go find The Mom Pledge on Facebook and share it with all your mom (and future mom) friends. It's message couldn't be more important. 

The Mom Pledge is this:

The Mom Pledge


I am a proud to be a mom. I will conduct myself with integrity in all my online activities. I can lead by example.

I know my children learn from my attitudes and actions. I promise to model respectful, compassionate behavior. It starts with me.

I pledge to treat my fellow moms with respect. I will acknowledge that there is no one, "right" way to be a good Mom. Each woman makes the choices best for her family.

I believe a healthy dialogue on important issues is a good thing. I will welcome differing opinions when offered in a respectful, non-judgmental manner. And will treat those who do so in kind.

I stand up against cyber bullying. My online space reflects who I am and what I believe in. I will not tolerate comments that are defamatory, hateful or threatening.

I refuse to give those who attack a platform. I will remove their remarks with no mention or response. I can take control.

I want to see moms work together to build one another up, not tear each other down. Words can be used as weapons. I will not engage in that behavior.

I affirm that we are a community. As a member, I will strive to foster goodwill among moms. Together, we can make a difference.*

*taken from the description under the "about" section of The Mom Pledge Facebook page.

Sounds pretty awesome to me! Where do I sign?

All jokes aside, whether we're speaking in thinly veiled insults and back-handed compliments or we're being directly, deliberately hurtful and aggressive, it's wrong. 

Playful and even sarcastic banter with trusted friends and family is one thing. Mean spirited disrespect and caustic words are another.

It's time to decide that not only are we grown women, we are mothers raising the next generation. That's a huge responsibility. And when we behave poorly to each other, what's the message that we're sending our kids? 

*this is a pretty awesome blog about the very same problem-----> Mom Bullies

"Sir, the possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately 3,720 to 1."

My child is really very smart. I mean, of course I think that, right? I'm the mom. I often wonder if parents, grandparents or any close family member really knows if their kids are dumb or ugly? You all know what I'm talking about. You think your child is the most beautiful, smartest child you've ever encountered (you're supposed to). It's really easy for family to focus on the wonderful qualities of a new and growing child, we love to brag to anyone who will hold still about all the amazing and brilliant things our kids can do. We annoy our friends and loved ones (and perfect strangers) with the most gripping details about who made a stinky, who loves green beans, who just said "mamma" and boast proudly about how our little genius is clearly a future brain surgeon because look at how well she colors! But sometimes it can be harder for us to really, truly see our children.We are ready to over praise and we are even more ready to explain away faults or problems. Developmental issues can, especially in younger children, often be dismissed with an easy "Every child develops at her own pace," or troublesome behaviors are often shrouded in a, "He's all boy, isn't he?!". So what happens when there really is something wrong? I think, as a mother, you just know. You may not always be able to completely articulate what you think the problem is, and you may not voice your concern (because moms are worriers, aren't we?), but deep down, you have have this radar that just sort of "blips" when something isn't right. 

And Lorelai, she's smart, but it's the kind of smart that got my mom radar going. She was the baby who would color code all her toys, or alphabetize them. She would line up all her crayons before coloring with them. She would color code and count her Froot Loops before she'd eat them. (In hindsight it all seems very textbook, but at the time it was just sort of ... weird.) The first time she spoke to us she was about 14 months old and she looked at my mother and counted to ten. Seriously. But while everyone was amazed that she was counting (which, honestly, was really cool), it was also disconcerting that she'd been silent for so long. She waited what seemed like a long time to walk. She wouldn't sleep through the night and often had horrible night terrors. She threw violent tantrums that were dangerous to herself and those around her... and list went on. So many things just weren't adding up. We kept explaining things away, but the radar was blipping all along. 

So, about a year and a half ago  (when she was 2), I got a really stellar job at a very prestigious law firm replacing this amazing paralegal who was going off to law school. Part of that process was to get Lorelai enrolled in daycare (because apparently most law firms frown on bringing toddlers to work, no matter how smart and probably great at filing they are). So, as any parent who has ever tried to get a kid into daycare knows, we had to go to the pediatrician to get a check up and shot records and blah blah blah.  Part of the "check up" process is a "developmental milestones test". Basically, depending on the age of the child, they pull out this standardized checklist and have your kid go through each item until you hit three "no's". So, can your kid stand on one foot, recognize the letter A, see that word across the room, hear the sound of this buzzer, or whatever. Again, the tests are age-appropriate and your doctor is looking to see if your kid can get through all of the metrics that are determined "normal" for his age before you hit all three "no's". When we used to do these things with my son I thought they were silly. It never actually occurred to me that kids didn't do well on these things because what they were asking for each time seemed so basic and so in line with how any kid develops that I couldn't see the point. Enter Lorelai, stage left. Jedi Dad took her in for this check up and she didn't do very well on the ones for her age at all (which at two is mostly basic language and motor skills). So the doc decides to fast forward a few pages to the test for kids that are older and Lorelai is sailing through it. My husband, of course, does not understand the significance of any of this (neither did I for a really long time) and leaves with the proper day care forms and a referral for a Speech and Language evaluation and a Hearing test. Jedi Dad thought this was absurd. We knew she didn't have a hearing problem and how many two year old's DON'T have speech issues, they are all LEARNING to talk aren't they?! I, however, knew there must be more to it. ((blip))

When the doctor suggested we get these evaluations, Jedi Dad agreed to the evals but wrote off any concern immediately. I however, decided to do some homework. Homework is my way. That's how I process the world. I research it and study it and try to find words for it. Sometimes this is cumbersome but usually this works greatly to my advantage. One thing I will say to any parent ever... if you are worried about your children, trust your gut and DO YOUR HOMEWORK. There are a million resources at your fingertips. Use them. Talk to your Doctors. Push for answers. You are your child's best advocate. That is the reason you are her parent. 

I also had another seed that had been planted in my brain, unintentionally. When we talk about "awareness" I often wonder if we know what the impact of that is. The awesome paralegal that I was replacing has two adopted siblings that are both on the spectrum. I know this because she has the coolest tattoo on the inside of her left forearm of four brightly colored puzzle pieces. I was drawn to this tattoo within minutes of meeting her and finally asked her about it. Her story just stuck with me. So when we started this process I had that image floating around in the back of my mind ((blip)). I know when she got the tattoo she probably had no idea that someday I'd see it and it would make me aware, but I'm so glad it did. 

When we took Lor to her first evaluation, the Speech evaluation, they started asking us a lot of questions about Lorelai and her growth and development. We were answering them honestly, and they seemed innocent enough, but inside all I could hear was ((blip - blip - blip)). They scheduled us an appointment to come back and go over the results and create a therapy plan and the dots on the radar screen were starting to take shape in my head. I was up all night researching and studying and I knew in my heart, and in my stomach, that we were dealing with something big here. The next morning I called the Speech therapist back and I said, "You think she's autistic, don't you?" Quiet. "It's ok. I can handle it. I just want to know what you think."

After a long pause she said, "We aren't really qualified to give you a diagnosis, that's not what we do. But yes, that's certainly what it looks like to us and we think you should consider getting a Psychological evaluation."

I hung up and sat in my car in silence, waiting to go into work. I allowed myself one moment of sadness. One moment of quiet tears and then I locked it down. I didn't know very much at all about what we were facing but I did know that my only real choice was to be strong and push for answers. One thing I'd kept reading over and over was that early intervention was really key. I voiced my concerns to my family members. The responses ranged from, "She's fine, she's just a little behind, don't get worried over nothing" (my Dad and Jedi Dad) to "I've often wondered if there wasn't something like that going on, but I had no idea how to bring it up" (my Mom and my Aunt - see, mom radar). 

But I pushed and so we took her to a Psych eval. That doctor spent about an hour with Lorelai and me and decided "There's no way she's on the spectrum. She's a little behind but she'll catch up. But, if you're still worried in a year, by all means get another eval done" and sent us on our way. She was a very good doctor that came very highly recommended, and my Husband was thrilled to be right and thrilled to have someone who finally confirmed that I was over reacting and that his baby girl was going to be fine. And how could I blame him?! This was supposed to be great news and who am I to be a Debbie Downer? So how do you keep pushing, as a mom, knowing that something is wrong? The doctor is saying it's fine, and your family is relieved and ready to call it a done deal. Again, I will reiterate, TRUST. YOUR. GUT. I heard the doctor, I heard my family, I heard my husband, but I also heard ((blip. blip. blip. BLIP. BLIP.)). 

For a while, I kept my concerns mostly to myself. I did mention that I was still worried and that it didn't quite feel like a relief. We've all had those moments. You're sick, you go to your doctor and she says you're fine and you are simultaneously glad she found nothing wrong but also worried because you are still feeling sick... it was like that. You don't want to be a hypochondriac, but you're worried. Well, I stayed strong and I tried to let it go, but I was carrying this constant ((blip. blip. BLIP. BLIP.)) around with me. I spent a week in the hospital (stress ulcers, I know, big surprise, right?!) and between that week out and all the missed work from all the evaluations, I lost my "dream" job. Turned out I didn't have time for it anyway, we were about to get really busy. In hindsight I think the only reasons I got that job were 1) so I would need to take Lorelai for the milestones test she failed and 2) so I would meet that other paralegal and hear her story. 

So for a year I took Lorelai to therapy. We started with Speech. Then it was Speech and Language. Then it was Physical Therapy. Then it was Occupational Therapy. Hours and hours each week we spent helping her "catch up". And in a lot of ways we were making real progress. Our therapists are amazing. I truly believe that they are angels and that God put them on Earth for these children. But with all the progress it was still clear to me that we weren't really closing any gaps. She was still delayed, still behind. And her behavioral issues were coming full circle. I started seeing these violent tantrums that I hadn't seen in months, and she was getting harder and harder to deal with. And clingy... she was getting SO attached to me that I couldn't do ANYTHING. And all the while... ((blip. blip. blip. blip)). I finally begged our therapists for a referral to a behavior therapist (or a padded room) and was delighted when they said they were bringing someone on board. After probably inappropriately flirting with everyone in the office to be one of her first appointments, I finally got the chance to meet Dr. Awesome. 

She came to our house, met us on our own terms, and said she could help. She was funny, smart, genuine, likable, and concerned. She also, after several meetings and a bit of discussion, told me that I wasn't crazy. I think her exact words were, after explaining that of course we would need official testing, "If she's not on the spectrum, I'll give you my house." FINALLY!!! Someone who actually heard me, who genuinely believed me, and who could do something to really help me.  She saved us. Not just by validating my concerns (although that goes a LONG way), but by caring enough about us, about Lorelai, to help me find the truth and point us in the right direction for all the resources that Lorelai really qualifies for. She's helped open so many doors for us. (Just wait until I finish my blog on the testing and the IEP process... hahaha.) She's helped us navigate our way through a really confusing process and has been an amazing guide, connecting us with endless resources and other professionals, expanding our network of support all the time. I'm so grateful to her, and I'm so grateful to our speech therapists for seeing how great she is and connecting us to her.

So what do I say to you as a mother or father??? TRUST. YOUR. GUT. If something feels off, get it checked out. If an answer doesn't sit right with you, get a second opinion. Never let someone make you feel stupid. Better to over react and get your kids everything they need than to under react and let them fall through the gaping cracks in a crowded system. You are their voice. For many parents of autistic children, you are truly their ONLY voice. Surround yourself with people who love and support you. And never give up. You'll never be sorry for doing too much for your kids. 

“I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookiee win.”

Lorelai is really "into" patterns. She looks at life like a series of puzzles. Everything can be arranged into a sequence or system, organized and made sense of. One of our little patterns, or, routines, is to read through this backpack full of books she has. It's always the same books, always in order, and always in a loop until one of us, the parents, ends it and distracts her with something else. It starts with "Pinkalicious" as a warm up, and then we go to "If you give a mouse a Cookie" and we read through all of those books ("Give a Pig a Party", "Give a Cat a Cupcake" etc.). I think she loves those books because they are also a great play on cause and effect and that every action has a reaction and a consequence. They speak her language. Their rhythm is soothing and familiar to her. That rhythm, though, is catchy as hell. Since I have that nonsense stuck in my head, I decided to get it out. So, here you go.

If you give a Lorelai a juice box, chances are, she's going to ask for a snack to go with it.

So you'll take her to the kitchen, and she'll ask to go "Up in the mommy" so she can take fifteen minutes to touch everything while she tries to choose something out of the pantry.

She'll eventually choose the "circles" (Froot Loops) so you'll put her in her high chair.

When you give her the "circles" she'll want to sort them into groups. "Three red circles." "Four blue circles." "Two yellow circles." Then, she might notice that there are no purple circles.

When she notices there are no purple ones, she'll tell you purple is spelled P-U-R-P-L-E. Then she'll want you to listen to her spell the names of everyone she knows. Then she'll want to sing the Name Game.

You'll do Johnny, Johnny bo Bonny and Daddy, Daddy bo Baddy, and Oscar, Oscar bo Boscar, and Grandpa, Grandpa bo Bandpa, and Taylor, Taylor bo Baylor and Brittany, Brittany bo Bittany and eventually you'll make it through every friend and family member and start doing the names of the characters in her favorite shows.

Singing about Spongebob will make her want to watch the "Spongebob Christmas Special" (again). Then she'll want Spongebob fruit snacks.

You will be all out of Spongebob fruit snacks, and, after a brief Mommy panic attack, you will remember what Dr. Awesome tells you to try and you will give her a choice. Princess Fruit Snacks or Shark Bites? She will answer, "Spongebob". You will ask again, "Avengers Fruit Snacks or Nemo Bites"? She will answer, "Spongebob."

So you'll decide to go to the store.

She'll need to put on socks and shoes.  "First one goes on the right foot, then one goes on the left foot."

Next, she'll get "blanket and Olivia". Then she'll have to go to the car.

You'll remember that you need to try run some errands while you're out. So you'll grab a lunch bag full of nutrigrain bars, dum dums, juice boxes, raisins and goldfish, a charger for the tablet, and the visual schedule along with all the stickers you've made for the potential stops along the way. You hurriedly arrange the schedule and follow her out the door.

Before you leave the driveway you will show her the schedule tell her about her morning. "Publix, Post Office, Johnny's School." This will get the map song from Dora stuck in your head. All. Day.

Your first stop will be at the grocery store. You will have walk slow and hold hands while she spells all the words she sees. "O-P-E-N spells open." "W-E-T spells wet."

Since you chose to go to Publix, she will ask to drive in the race car. It will be "Lorelai's turn" to buckle her seat belt. It will be the only race car left and it will have a bum wheel so that it only makes smooth left turns forcing you to use all the strength in your body to keep it from veering off course and taking out the ankles of everyone you pass.

She will want to drive the race car to the bakery for a "sprinkle cookie". You will need to try very hard to see the cookie window before she does. If they do not have sprinkle cookies, you will start to really sing and dance like an off-Broadway Cookie Monster about how awesome chocolate chip is, to avoid a meltdown.

She will probably still have a meltdown.

Good thing you brought the tablet.

Playing on her tablet will calm her down and the music and games will remind her that she likes to sing. She will want to sing happy songs very loudly, because she has no inside voice. A sweet, but unfamiliar lady will hear her singing tell her she's cute and try to talk to her. This will make her instantly very nervous and very quiet and she will want to get out of the race car and crawl underneath your shirt like a creepy joey.

You'll carry her, exhausted, through the last few aisles, while struggling with the wonky race car cart and finally make your way to the check out line. There will be at least three people in front of you. She will see a bag of M&M's on the impulse rack and try to grab it and you will try as calmly and firmly as you can to tell her "No" (while hiding your terror as you brace yourself for the inevitable results). She will erupt, unconcerned with the watching eyes (she's still upset about the cookie and the strange lady). You will try to pretend you can't tell they're all staring at you while you try to distract her from the meltdown with a tablet she no longer wants.

Then, someone's phone will ring and their ring tone will be Maroon 5. She will stop and notice, and while catching her breath from her most recent meltdown, will ask you, "Mommy can we listen to Moves like Jagger?"

So you rush back to the car, where you will listen to "Moves Like Jagger". And then you will listen to "the Starfish song" (Starships, Nicki Minaj). And then you will listen to "Boom Boom Pow". And then you will listen to "We are never getting back together". This will continue for the rest of the trip.

As you are leaving Publix, you might pass a McDonald's. When she sees the McDonald's, she's going to ask you for some nuggets. "6-piece nuggets."

And chances are, if you skip the Post Office and decide to order nuggets, she's going to want a juice box to go with them.

Get the nuggets, get the juice box, you can't handle the Post Office and the grocery store in one day.

When you get home, she'll notice you left the TV on. Seeing Spongebob will remind her that she wanted Spongebob fruit snacks.

This will remind YOU, far too late, that Spongebob fruit snacks are the entire reason you left the house to begin with.

Pulling out the big guns, you will distract her with some Playdough and realize it's only 10am.

Happy Monday.

"Wonderful girl. Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her."

Lorelai is not a princess.

She just told me so. 

Usually when I ask her who her favorite princess is, she tells me "Lorelai", which I think is awesome. She's nothing if not well adjusted. I'm sure her future husband will really enjoy the challenge. Today, however, she has refused the crown. Part of the agreement with being a princess, is that she will follow the "Princess Pledge". 

Those of you who have seen Olivia (the cartoon with the cute little pig) are probably familiar with this. My little diva has been able to recite the pledge verbatim since the first time she saw "Princess for a Day" and, I, as her queen, use that to my advantage. 

"A princess promises to be pretty, happy, smell nice, sparkle a lot, sing happy songs very loudly, and never ever be mean." 

You can see how that kind of promise could really work in my favor. Usually, when she's being particularly petulant I will gasp, "Lorelai! What does a princess promise?!" and she'll often look properly chastised and mutter, "A princess promises to be nice." Then I'll egg her on a bit, "Oh good!! What else does a princess promise?" Then she'll recite her pledge and we'll move on giggling and happy with me patting myself on the back for derailing a tantrum. 

She must really be taking this thing seriously though. This morning I noticed that her nails were about a week overdue for a trim. She was watching the Spongebob Christmas special (again) and I thought I'd catch her while she was distracted. HA! 

Arching her back and making herself VERY heavy she adamantly informed me that we would not be cutting her nails. She's really very articulate when it comes to anything she doesn't want to do. So, after I caught her (damn she's fast) I sat her in my lap and started to cut. She was complaining so I invoked The Pledge. 

"Lorelai, what does a princess promise?"

"I not a princess." (Calmly)

"Yes you are!!! You're a beautiful princess. What does a princess promise? Does a princess promise to be nice?"

"I NOT a beautiful princess." Still perfectly matter-of-factly. Then, quoting the Spongebob special she declared simply, "I a very bad bad bad bad toy." 

She's so smart. So logical. It made perfect sense! Not only is she not bound by the Princess Pledge, she's also free to be as un-princessy as she likes. 

That round goes to Lorelai....

Laugh, or laugh not. There is no cry.

My therapist suggested I write a blog. 

Okay, she's not actually MY therapist. She's my daughter's behavior therapist. The suggestion came in an email, where Dr. Awesome sent me a link to story from another mom's blog, which was *super hilarious* and prefaced it by saying, "I know comic relief is often therapeutic, and judging by most of our sessions, I gather you probably feel the same way!" and then closed out the email with, "Once we can get you more than 5 minutes in front of your laptop without any interference, you totally need to write your own blog to keep it real too!" (Read: no pressure at all.) 

If I didn't love this woman almost more than I love my own mother and my husband combined, I may have received this suggestion like a back-handed slap. Firstly, because who likes to be told by a medical professional that their problems are funny enough to share with the entire group? But the truth is, we do spend most of our sessions laughing. I mean really laughing. Sometimes she has to break out the asthma inhaler and I start to feel a little guilty for trying to kill her (and a little proud of myself for being such a comic genius without even trying). Secondly, because when am I ever going to get "5 minutes in front of my laptop without any interference"?? I think that part was probably meant to be her own little joke. I mean, sure, we are working on it. In fact, that's probably the largest, most immediate goal of our therapy sessions. However, she, of all people should know that unless I want to wait until midnight and skip a shower, that's NOT going to happen for a pretty long time. 

But, I love our doctor and I know she loves me and wants me to be happy. And, I think she's probably right. It probably wouldn't hurt to put some of this out there (it's better than swallowing it down and processing it into ulcers, after all). But in lieu of alone time with my laptop, I'm actually writing this now with Olivia blaring in the background and my daughter physically attached to my hip. I've had to start and stop half a dozen times so she can watch the same YouTube video over and over and over (and over and over and over) again. Apparently some genius strategically set clips from Spongebob Squarepants to the Black Eyed Peas song "Boom Boom Pow".... I'll have to write him a Thank You note and offer him some more constructive suggestions for how he can use his time. 

Lorelai, my three-year-old (yes, she's three, so that should be enough of a challenge, right?!?!?) is not only equipped with a healthy diva complex (I have NO idea where the hell she gets that), but also happens to have PDD-NOS, a pretty severe anxiety disorder, and, if all that weren't enough, she's smarter than I am. She and her brother are skillful little Jedi and my daily struggle is not to be bested by my younglings. The "attached at the hip" thing is one of the main reasons (not the only reason by far, but one of the main reasons, certainly) that we visit Dr. Awesome. My daughter has decided that the only way to be happy is to be on me. Seriously. ON me. If she could do that thing where you lay feet to feet and hand to hand and have every inch of her touching every inch of me she probably would. And that's on a "good" day. On what I like to affectionately refer to as one of her more autistic days, she'd crawl all the way back up into my womb if she could find the way. 

Now, maybe it's a case of being "careful what you wish for." My son never had this problem. Johnny, who is 6, never had a "Mommy" phase. He has never wanted me "most" - except maybe the first few mornings at daycare but even then it was a quick recovery followed by a MOM-PUHLEEZE-you're-embarrassing-me-face any time I wanted a kiss goodbye, which, in a 2.5 year old, is both impressive and depressing. In fact his preferred "drugs of choice" have always been Grandma and Grandpa and I have come to find that I will always play third fiddle (Dad plays second fiddle, but I understand that, Dad is cool as hell). Let's face it, they're more fun than I am. I like their house better, too. It's like somebody took all the best food in the store, transplanted it into an arcade and then mixed in two thirds of a Toys-R-Us. Who can compete with that? Besides, I've convinced myself to look at the positive side here; without any of those pesky "mother issues" the odds are very slim that he'll end up in my basement until he's 35. Right?!

But, like any mom and true perfectionist, I like to be the best. So when my little princess came along and clearly preferred me to just about anything else, including breathing, I thought it was endearing and sweet and used to brag about how awesome I must be for her to love me SO much. Then it got kind of scary. When they're babies and they are breast feeding, fine. But it eventually got to a point where I would not have been surprised in the least to find her breath and teeny hand prints on the glass outside my bedroom window. No mom expects to go to bathroom alone, EVER, but you would think you could at least do it without having someone else on your lap. True story.

So, I go to Dr. Awesome. I word-vomit all my troubles at her, then she sifts through the spaghetti nonsense and tries to help teach me the ways of the Force and how to ultimately conquer my children and keep my title as the Master Jedi in my own home. At the very least I'm hoping for enough skills to mitigate the dysfunction. She gives me these really awesome, Supernanny-esque tips on how to run my children and my home, then Lorelai finds the loop holes and we have to start over. My constant defeat at the hands of my genius children (I know, every mom thinks her kids are geniuses, but seriously, ask the doctors, my kids really are, especially the tiny one) is a great learning tool for everyone involved, but also the source of some richly dark comedy.

Well, let's be frank, as moms we have two choices; we can laugh or we can cry. It's often times a very fine line between the two, which is what makes the comedy so dark. If you're willing to, however, laughing about it is so much more fun, and if we're being honest, people would much rather be around you when you're laughing than when you're bitching so it seems like the obvious choice... even if the laughing often sounds maniacal. 

So, I am taking Dr. Awesome's advice and inviting you to laugh with me. I welcome your own stories and anecdotes about parenting and I hope we can all have a good laugh together at each other's expense. 

Love, Jedi Mom.