Tag Archives: sleep

Turning The Cranky Off

by Brenda, Mama Be Good

I have about two minutes to myself today.  And you guys know I’m not complaining – not really.  I’m just cranky.  I need more than two minutes.  And I’m using hyperbole.  I’m cranky and I have an infectious hyperbole, so get outta my way.

I need some time off.  I wanna do some of this and some of that.  I’d like to get my toenails back to that color.  I’d like to clean out my refrigerator.  I’d like to take a nap.  And some cold medicine.

Also.  The sleeping, I mean, not sleeping.  Tossing, turning, not really sleeping, waking up.  Seven years of sleeping like a baby will tell you why sleeping like a baby is NOT a good thing.

And the eating.  You know how you think you’d just place some food in front of your child and tell him to eat?  Or say eat or no dessert?  Or if he doesn’t eat this time, that’s okay?  Well, I’m still sitting down with my child every meal and feeding him.  And I can’t say it’s okay if he doesn’t eat because he really wouldn’t.  Ever.

Complaining about all this makes me feel guilty.  I’m complaining because I feel cranky.  That’s all.

Because I am lucky.   I’m lucky to be at home all day with my child.  I’m lucky I don’t have to work when most mamas have to.  I’m lucky because being at home with me has been the best thing for my child.  I’m lucky because I discovered unschooling.  And it works.

I’m lucky I don’t have to worry about my son being bullied by classmates.  That I don’t have to fight in IEP battles.  That I’m not in a struggle with a school on a daily basis.  That my son has the perfect learning environment.

I’m lucky that my husband and I agree perfectly about all this.  That we both have the same vision and goals.  That we both would rather live the way we do – old furniture, a house that creates its own dust – so that I can unschool our child.

I love knowing exactly what happens with my child throughout the day.  That I’m the one who gets to see his mischievous smile, his twinklyeyes, hear his delighted laughter when he explores his favorite new interest.  And that I’m the one who helps him when he’s upset.

Take a minute, Mama.  Deep breath in.  No, I mean deep.  Deep breath out.  Again.

I am lucky..

I am very lucky.


Brenda Rothman is a writer, public speaker, and political activist with a background in information technology, writing, and health law. She is a parent to a child diagnosed with autism. Brenda blogs at mamabegood.blogspot.com. She has written for The Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism, TPGA blog, and the Sensory Processing Disorder Blogger’s Network. Her essay about race and autism was featured by Denene Miller on My Brown Baby’s blog and Parenting.com‘s blog. She lives in Atlanta with her patient husband and brilliant, beautiful son Jack.

This essay was originally published HERE and was posted with permission.





Filed under Remembering to Breathe

In Search Of…

by Becky, Mozart, Picasso and A Princess

Last year was a year that rocked our world – almost literally.  I’m sure you’ve heard someone say something like, “She rocks my world,” or “You rock my world,” – meaning that they make your life so much more amazing.That’s not the world-rocking to which I refer.What I’m talking about is more like an earthquake – the world rattles and things get shaken up.  Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about – last year our little world got shaken up. I’ve never been to more appointments in my life. And if I remember correctly, not a one of them was for me.  3 kids went to 12 appointments with the pediatrician, 11 or 12 dental & orthodontist appointments, several appointments to the eye doctor, therapy – and then *more* therapy, developmental pediatrician, audiologist, to get blood drawn.  And those are just the ones I can remember on the spur of the moment. We met new therapists, experienced different doctors, had more things to worry about than any other year before.

I’m tired. That’s actually a step up from exhausted, which was a step up from “can’t-put-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other-one-more-time.” Tired is not too bad!

And then came the new year.  I knew I wanted to tackle this year differently – be more focused rather than feeling so reactionary.  I have plans for this year. I plan to do more than “exist to drive to the next appointment”.  I’ve planned things I want to do.  No real big plans, but last year, I gave up on plans.

I’ve lived through the ups & downs and ins and outs of the last year.

As I consider the year ahead, as I’ve made a few plans (because I’m still too scared to make “many” plans), I’m starting to realize a common thread among the plans.


Every plan, every goal I have in mind (the few I’m starting with) deal with peace. I didn’t plan it that way.  I planned to handle this year differently.  But I didn’t realize that, I guess subconsciously, I was looking for peace. Not peace as in “the absence of strife” but more along the lines of tranquility.

I am so eager for the year ahead.  I feel like I can invest more in all of my family, not just in the one who needs everything.  I think because we tackled most everything last year, there won’t be *as* much to do this year. There’s still therapy, there’s an IEP meeting soon, a doctor appointment in the spring, plus stuff for my other two amazing children.  But this year, I know that it won’t be as hectic as last year.

I’m not planning any big projects.  I’m planning to light a candle, drink a cup of tea, knit a little more, listen to some music, laugh a little more, and hopefully spend more time with friends.  I’m planning to sleep more than 4-6 hours each night.

I’m searching for peace because last year it was hard to come by.  I seem to be seeking it out without even realizing it.  I’m looking forward to a dramatic change of pace.  I realize this year won’t be easy and things will come up that I’m not yet prepared for, but I’m planning for peace.

Grab your favorite mug, pour some coffee or tea, sit down, put your feet up and join me. I could use some support in this journey.  You’re with me, right?

Let’s start here: Islesford Dock, on Little Cranberry Island, in Bar Harbor, Maine. This is one of my favorite places – Tim & I have been here twice.  You get there by boat, have a delightful dinner and head back as the sun is setting.  It’s perfect.



Photo: Mine.


Becky lives near Philadelphia, PA. She is married to Tim and they are parents to 3 children – two boys and one girl.  Her second son, “Picasso”, has Sensory Processing Disorder along with an Asperger Syndrome diagnosis. Picasso loves making art using various mediums and sometimes chooses to sneak Sharpies for use on surfaces in the home (read: bathroom cabinet, doors, walls, lightswitches, etc.).  She blogs about special needs, homeschooling, and family life at www.paintingwithpicasso.blogspot.com .  Becky also enjoys coffee, reading, music, knitting, and is working hard at taking better care of herself, in order to care better for her family!


Filed under Remembering to Breathe, Taking the next step