Introduction

My day........I got up at 6:45 and hugged my precious four year old, who has autism. I started his breakfast, Gluten free, yeast free bread - dipped in eggs and lightly browned, we call it Toast Sticks. The smoke alarm went off. This is nothing new, it goes off almost every morning - It could be that I don't know how to cook at low or even medium temperatures, it could be that the smoke alarm is very sensitive. I actually think it is becuase I secretly (okay, maybe not so secretly) hate the condo we live in and thus feel the need to set off the smoke alarm every morning to remind myself and all of my, living in my lap, neighbors. Three of the condos in our neighborhood have caught on fire in the last 3 years - so I could be subconciously checking to make sure that our smoke alarm is still viable - in any case its a morning ritual. Along with wrestling my son out of his pajamas and into his clothes, getting him to eat breakfast by threatening to turn off the ever active TV and attempting to put a dent in the dishes in the sink and the laundry in the heap on the back bathroom floor. Ah, life! Isn't this exactly what I had in mind when I used to romantically dream of what my life would be. The phone rings. Screaming dread coursed through me - It's only 7:20 - who ever it is - what ever it is - it can't be good. Its my sons Speech Therapist, she has the flu and won't be in this morning. Great, what can I say? Look, today is not a good day to have the flu, my husband had to ask for this day off so we could hold my son's IEP this morning and you were our free babysitting? Nah....it's the flu - what can she do. I run around attempting to get myself and my son ready to leave in 3 minutes. My husband is sitting on the couch, newly showered, totally dressed, proud of himself - he's ready on time. I begin to seeth - Is he actually watching the Wiggles? I am trying to blow dry my hair while using my knees to prompt my son to brush his teeth, while gathering my thoughts of how we are going to hold an IEP with my son there - And my husband is sitting on the couch watching the WIGGLES! There it is that overwhelming feeling of complete and total resentment - ah, yes, now my day has really started - for others it takes a cup of coffee to get them started, not this mama - serve me up a steaming cup of hot resentment and I'm good to go! I bark a list of what else needs to be done at my husband and he leaps from the couch as if awakening from a drunken slumber - Really? There are things that need to be done before we leave? Shocking - that's never happened before - to think that we have had this child for 4 years and this is the first time something needs to be done before we leave...... Amazing! Fabulous, now sarcasm has kicked in - Now we are getting somewhere! I remind myself that the divorce rate amongst couples with an autistic child is 80%. Oh right I'm supposed to say a child with autism - Children aren't autistic any more - they have autism. It's like calling someone Oriental - your supposed to say Asian. Okay we are off to school. My husband will watch my son while I meet with the school reps - I am the negotiator. Now is when he asks me if we are going to tape record the meeting. Now in this moment he asks me......I tell him that is a great idea and that I really wish he had mentioned it 48 hours before as we have to give the school 24 hours notice. I freak out and say that I can't handle all of the stress. My husband is quiet. CRICKET CRICKET - I say to him "Honey, I am seriously stressed right now, could you say something?" He apologizes, says he figures I wanted quiet - I tell him I need for him to talk to me, help calm me down. So now is when he asks what it is that we are trying to establish in this particular meeting - I sigh and quickly outline the objectives and change the subject - How are we going to pay the rent? It is the 3rd of the month and we still don't have it. We talk about finding time to sit down and talk about finances later. We have arrived at school. We are late. They are not ready for us. Finally they are ready - My husband leaves with my son and I am alone with two women who say that want to be helpful with my sons education - there are time that I believe them, usually not. Lately, I feel like a fly walking on a spider web, I know its coming....I just don't know from what direction. BLah, Blah, Blah They would like to pay for my son's behavioral therapist for 4 days instead of 3 until Christmas. What? Somebody pinch me! Are you kidding? This is like the euivalant of winning the Autism Lotto. I act cool. I think we can make that work. And I get up out of the chair, my legs are trembling - I have stressed about this moment for over a year, and they are agreeing - every negotiation skill in me says leave now - NOW. And I also have a much needed back Dr. appt. across town in 30 minutes. Write it up, I tell them. I make for the door. You know, says the school administrative WITCH, I just wonder if maybe we're putting too much on him - Maybe we should stay at 3 days? Everything in me slows. AAAGGGH! I turn back from the door I look her in the eye and say to her "That was exactly my concern when we started this negotiation last week - but your team did such a good job of convincing me that my son should be coming more often - they wanted him to come 5 days a week, I thought 4 was a good compromise, are you disagreeing with the team?" Her eyes narrow. It is clear to her now that she underestimated me. This is not my first rodeo - she should know that - she and I have battled for the last year and I have won everything I have asked for - she's made it hard, but I have been victorious - ate her alive in front of a mediator a year ago. She nods. Why do I feel like I'm in one of the video games my husband likes to play. Okay, she says - 4 days. I nod, I leave - I run to my son's preschool class, kiss my son, take a bottle of water from one of the teacher's, so I can research if the ingredients are safe for my son's diet, I grab my husband
and tell everyone we will trasition to 4 days starting tomorrow. Everyone is amazed - I clarify that they are still writing it up - anything can still happen - I drive my husband home and tell him that I can not handle the stress anymore, I need his help, that him sitting on the couch while I am clearly stressed and running around causes me to become a seething boil of resentment. He gets it, apologizes, promises to be better, I kiss him goodbye and run to my Drs. appointment - I am 15 minutes late, it doesn't matter, they have me down for having an appointment tomorrow at 8:45 - which isn't possible - well it's possible now because my son will be going to school tomorrow, but I didn't know that when I made the appt. a week ago - and 8:45 isn't possible either - I assure them that someone has changed the appt. and forgotten to tell me - they assure me I wrote the date down incorrectly - Okay, its not worth arguing about -I will come tomorrow at 9. I leave and walk two doors down to the mental clinic -Someone gave me their # as a place I might get free counseling yesterday - I think it is fate that I don't have an appointment - no on is in the office - I drive home while calling Nestle to ask about the ingredients in their water - Frist why are there ingredients in the water - Water can't be just water anymore. I get a very snippy girl on the phone who keeps sighing and cracking her gum - eventually I ask her if this is just too difficult for her - she assures me it isn't, but she keeps sighing. Ican't help but wonder how much an hour they are paying her to be snippy - can she pay her rent on time? Maybe I could be snippy for them? The rest of my day is spent finishing odd jobs, running all over hell's half acre to deliver them - and pick up checks from clients - hoping to make rent - I am still short - one of my clients gives me a check dated tomorrow -oh well and then at home after my child is in bed I field 7 phone calls about the credit card bills we have not paid - Citibank calls every half hour and says please hold a representative will be right with you - for ten minutes and then eventually they say that they are sorry they cannot talk right now. And then there is the Wamu lady who is calling from India and doesn't understand idiomatic language - I tell her we can't make a payment - she says she can get me in a payment plan for $550 a month. I laugh and say we don't have any money - she offers me and extension - can I agree to pay by the 13th - I can't, she offers me a payment plan of $420 a month - this continues for 20 minutes - now I know why people don't answer their phones when creditors call - I always thought it would be easier to just talk to them - turns out I was wrong. Citibank continues to call until 8:45. Why am I writing this? I am filled with resentment. I am mad at everyone and everything. I would like for that to change - so I need to dump it somewhere, so why not into the great expanse of the web. Where I can say with all anonymity - This isn't what I had planned! I am deserving of more. Okay, my child has autism - which I can't even begin to say how much I resent - why him - he is such a love - why does he have to be stuck with having too work sooo hard - but okay, I stepped up to the plate and I have rearranged the world so he can get what he needs - fine - we'll tackle that but do I have to be financially devastated too - Where is the publisher's clearing house prize patrol - James Ray sent me an email today that said to visualize the outcome that you want and the more you visualize it the faster it will be reality. Where were is the freaking prize patrol, James? Because I have visualized my butt off, and I have taken action. Show me the money! 'Cuz this ship is sinking and I am going down with it


Resentment Woman