Well, we've been invited to a labor day picnic at our brand new community garden today. I'm so excited to see the outside world that it's pathetic. Of course the community garden part is an exciting thought as well.
Guess it's time to start packing. Trains, extra clothes, food, juiceboxes, dvd player/dvds...did I mention that autism makes a three hour picnic the equivelent of a three week trip?
Here's the thing: a year ago, we would have stayed home. Today, I'm packing for a picnic that we fully intend to attend--fully armed (autie-wise) but still.
Tomorrow I will have to call my shit insurance company and raise hell to get Big Boy the totally generic, totally safe, totally necessary meds that shit insurance doesn't want to provide. They'd like to keep him on the stimulants. Niiiiiiice.
And that is the easy part.
Tomorrow I will also have to face the whole no-therapy=impossible autistic kid situation. I have no idea. Not one measly pea-brained idea. And I am sooooo much older than I was two years ago. So much older.
Kumbyah, my Lord. Please Kumbyah.
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