When I know I am going to have a particularly rough day, I turn to my makeup bag. I know a really heavy dose of eyeliner and mascara can turn a really hellish day into at least a more bearable one just by being able to stand what I see in the mirror. (Chin up, Belle, your eyes look GREAT!)
Last Thursday I didn't just throw on eye makeup, I used LIP LINER. I have ESP like that, I believe. I just KNOW things. Southern women are born with this ability. It's passed down to us. As it turns out I was right, I not only needed my eyes done and my lips lined, but luminating powder as well. For 2 hours and 43 minutes I listened to a group of three professionals describe my son to me and my husband. Between hearing the sounds of Charlie Brown's teacher, I heard my own voice...Dear God, I hope he never reads this himself? Will he? When he grows up? Will he have to KNOW this? Does he already?
No, he doesn't have some terrible disease. Thank God he doesn't suffer from something terminal. He will not be put to sleep in some operating room and carved on. He is my perfect little boy. If you saw him, you'd think that too. What a good looking boy he is! He just has Aspergers or what the state of Tennessee might call an Autism Sprectrum Disorder. After I had a mini comeapart/breakdown outside the pretty gates of the Diagnostic Center, the irony of something called ASS Burgers makes my husband and me laugh so hard. Like a lot of 10 year old boys, he could spend hours laughing about flatulence. He comes up with some hilarious names to call his little brother and we can easily see him laughing over the word Aspergers.
And so it begins....I will educate myself and lean on my village for support. If you see me and I have on full paint, you'll know I am struggling a bit.
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