Mumsaid

Dear Self-Righteous Wench at the Library, As I stated in our brief conversation, thank you for telling me what you needed.  I will say this one more time: While I respect your right to quiet, I do not appreciate you telling me how to raise my children.  You are lucky I didn't bitch-slap you.  I am rather proud of myself for not even yelling. Allow me to elaborate: I brought my children to the library to offer them a developmentally appropriate educational experience while spending (please forgive the cliche) "quality time" with a parent.  We haven't been to the library as regularly as we used to, and were very excited to be able to make the trip on this particular evening.  My ten year old mildly autistic son requires help finding books because the number of choices on the shelves is completely overwhelming.  He reads at least at a twelfth grade level, yet possesses social understanding that is far below that of his peers.  This makes finding books rather difficu

Eeyah, GreenWarrior, The Boy...the Incredible Human I Get to Claim as My Son Note:  Ten years ago, in the chilly wee hours of a February morning, I gave birth to my firstborn, whom we refer to online (usually) as Green Warrior.  However, my second child, The Girl, affectionately named him "Eeyah" though I am fairly certain she is capable of correctly pronouncing his first name.  She is nearing two, he is ten.  I do not "get" the Green Warrior reference completely, so I, for ease of use, hereby declare the title of his persona in the World Wide Web...Eeyah.  I think I might type Eea for short. Just thought I'd clarify. Eea is amazing.  Incredible.  Unbelievable.  And sometimes just damn confusing.  His startling intelligence and loving disposition make up for the amount of frustration I feel when doing what I refer to as my "mom job."   I know most parents are supposedly biased and tout their own offspring as the smartest, cutest, sweetest, most t