Moving (On) Is Hard To Do

A hundred years ago (really it was 2008) there was this pregnant chick who showed up on the first day of work for the new school year. She came from the "tough" school, where all the "bad" kids go. In the flurry of the first days of school I saw very little of her.

I can remember the day we spoke for the first time - she was walking down the hall, I'm pretty sure towards the bathroom with her pregnant bladder, and I was headed to my room. A simple, "Hey, how's it going (omg, what's her name, what's her name again?)?" turned into a friendship that I will cherish forever.

I cannot begin to tell you everything we have been through, the good, the bad and the ugly. The really good, the really bad, the super ugly, AND THE SIDE-SPLITTING, SNORTING, CRYING LAUGHTER. You see, Rebecca thought I was funny and I thought she was funnier, and that is the glue that has held our little dysfunctional friendship together. That and I'm pretty sure we love each other ♥



Rebecca is that friend that everyone should be lucky enough to have. 

She is that friend: 

Who I never have to clean my house for...
Who I can count on to laugh at me for my neurotic perseveration on stupid shit....
Who I can unload a string of curses in front of and not only does she not blink an eye, she joins right in.... 
Who I can count on to never befriend my enemies, frenemies or anyone else that I just don't like....
Who can tell me the truth about my outfits, hairstyles, behavior and parenting skills...
Who I can talk to about how frequently (or infrequently) I poop...
Who weathered the worst boss ever created with me...
Who is my go-to prom/school event date...
Who people confuse me for (although we've never really figured out how that happens)...
Who made me laugh about the ridiculous, heinous and off the wall crazy shit said boss pulled on both of us...
Who is my DKG sister...
Who I can work into a froth when my neuroses-cup overfloweth...
Who can make a lesson plan in less than 5 minutes...
Who calls me by my last name and I hers...
Who taught me the best one-liners for classroom management...
Who fed my family when my mom got really sick...
Who likes my kids as much as I like hers (which is A LOT)...
Who "gets" Courtney so I never feel anxious about what Courtney might say around her...
Who shares stupid videos with me...
Who sticks around at the end of the day to repeatedly watch said stupid videos with me..over and over and over again....{snorts galore}
Who was my first floor neighbor...
Who shared a room with me and made me laugh every single day....
Who made our ghetto names...Suzz-a-naay and Reb-aahh-kahhh...
Who will forever be the liberal to my conservative, the crunchy granola to my processed foods...
Who has seen me at my worst...
Who celebrated me no matter what...
Who will dry my tears when everything is going wrong...
Who will laugh at my tears when I THINK everything is going wrong...
Who is honest and trustworthy and kind even if she's a little tough on the outside...
Who doesn't mind that I'm a hugger...
Who, even though I don't see her every day, is still with me no matter what...
Who is a straight shooter....
Who never thinks that I have too many animals because hers usually outnumber mine...
Who loves Napoleon Dynamite...
Who sews like nobody's business...
Who loves Key and Peele as much as I do...

So, as she heads off into the sunset, kids and animals in tow, I am happy for her. But I am a little sad for myself, because my life, my heart, my classroom and my halls will never, ever, be quite the same. 

I love you Flynn! 

Stop Lying to Yourself

I am watching Dear John and crying, not because of the love story, but because the dad very obviously has Asperger's. I've been thinking a lot lately about C1 and her future because we seem to be at a standstill as far as what her next step will be. There are no programs in our area for high functioning autistic adults; she will be 20 years old in August, and I don't have the funds to build our own version of a program that would offer her transportation, employment, college and support. So, for now, until I can come up with SOMETHING, she sits at home while the rest of us are at work and school. Sits. And. Sits.

I've also been tortured lately, scared about what will happen to her when my husband and I, inevitably but God willing not for a hundred years, leave this Earth.

So to those of you out there who don't wish for a "cure" because you love your child, or yourself, just the way you are? I think you're lying because who in their right mind wouldn't want life to be easier to navigate than this crap shoot? Who in their right mind wouldn't want to be assured that your child will be able to take care of themselves if something happens to you? Who in their right mind wouldn't want to wake up and the word autism be missing from their vocabulary?

I love my child, purple, striped, autistic or not, and I certainly don't want to "CHANGE" her, but DAMMIT I want this to be EASIER FOR HER. Is that too much to ask?