Memoirs/Life Stories

So, tell me what you think of this.

For the title for my someday to be written life story/memoirs...

MIRANDAMONIUM

One girl named Miranda + A life time of Pandemonium = MIRANDAMONIUM!!!

hahahahahahah

I think I'll laugh myself to sleep on that note.

Comments

michelle said…

I think you are hilarious...and I say start on it now because most people don't write theirs until they're older and then they can't remember as many life events :)

March 20, 2009 at 10:22 AM

Being Dismissed from Services

I heard those dreaded words today. "I'm afraid that most likely your child doesn't qualify for services anymore." I paused afraid that if I responded too soon I'd yell or cry. I asked a few clarifying questions, blinking back tears of panic. I held my own for nearly the entire conversation. And then the therapist said, "You should be so proud, Mom. He's made so much progress." Then, I cried. The truth is he has made so much progress. The truth is I am very proud of him. Still, the truth is I hate hearing those words. Every time a specialist says to me that one of my children "no longer qualifies" for services, bile-like panic rises in my chest. "But he still has such anger issues," I said. And, "His impulsiveness gets in his way on a daily basis," I added. Doesn't she know? Can't she see the things I see? "I did tell you that he pulled a knife on his brother last week, didn't I?" Somehow she h...

Beautiful Disaster: His own brand of Awesome

Published on the Liahona Project, link here I took my oldest son back-to-school shopping the other day. It was.... awesome. sad. exciting. funny. inspiring. surprising. mama-heartbreaking. Big Brother was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 2009, when he was eight years old. It was years of evaluations and developmental preschools and speech therapists. Years of teachers bringing their concerns to me and me taking those concerns to doctors and, and, and... years of misdiagnoses. It was years of meltdowns and vomiting and aggression and wondering feet, running feet and hearing him say things like "I'm a bad son. I'm going to let a car hit me," as those feet took him out the front door. And then that moment, that singular sentence, "Your son is on the spectrum," that changed everything, that changed nothing. That bitter-sweet recognition that he was, in fact, atypical. And we've had years in between that the...

the non-accomplishment list

Well, the deadline came and went yesterday. And no, my book is not finished. If it was, I would be shouting it from the rooftops on a megaphone attached to sub-woofers, broadcasting at sonic-boom decibels. Sigh. I have been trying not to be super depressed or down on myself the last few days as I came to realize that I wasn't going to be able to meet my goal and have my work-in-progress completed by September 17th as I had made a pact with my BWFE (best-writing-friend-ever), Becca, that I would. To pull myself out of the dumps and come a terms with how imperfect life is and how plans, even cemented ones, have a way of crumbling into microscopic dust, I have decided to make a list of all my non-accomplishments over the last six weeks and see if I can find a reason why my WIP is yet to be finished. (I must say though, I am uber close, like 2-3 chapters away from the end! I will finish within the next 2 weeks!!) My Non-Accomplishment List In the last six we...

This Side of Invisible

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