Autistic Love of Mine

I said I would share how this journey has been for our household and I’m finally finding the time to sit down and share with you all about it.

My Benjamin was born with a perfect pink little body. Three pushes and out he came. I was forty when I had him and stayed healthy. My doctor had me walking a strict line that when I told him I ate a cookie, he scolded me and made me blush.

Benjamin was beautiful. I counted his fingers and toes and listened to him breath…perfect. I was tired after giving birth and when he cried I did get frustrated at times…going on very little sleep; it takes its toll on the mind and bring you to a delirious state of exhaustion. Nevertheless, I was determined to be a better mom; especially since he was my last baby for this lifetime.

Crawling, walking— all came fine. I never noticed anything wrong. It wasn’t until he was two years old and he began trying to speak. He began making loud noises and then full out screaming. He’d scream and scream for no reason— it seemed to me. At first I didn’t know how to respond. I thought it was just as all toddlers begin to do but his was just louder.

At three I noticed more of a defiance character and I thought I should be quick to correct it. Putting him in time out was challenging and often drove my blood pressure through the roof. People were telling me I needed to spank him and for one who believed in no spanking, I finally caved in and I spanked him… only to have him scream louder and get more frustrated. It was a nightmare.


We couldn’t go anywhere…restaurants, malls, visiting friends, etc. We had our house in TX but moved to San Diego and were staying with my parents for a while. But when we bought a fifth wheel and parked it in my parents’ driveway, we just moved in it so that his screams wouldn’t torment everybody else inside the house.

My son Everett, my middle child, had won a prestigious award in fifth grade…only very few got this award and only one in his grade level. It was a president’s award and I missed the ceremony. My Benjamin threw a fit just as I was trying to get him ready. It was a tantrum full of loud screams and kicks. All I could do to keep myself from beating him out of frustration was to let my knees hit the floor and sob. I had so many pity parties for myself during that time.

People couldn’t believe I missed the ceremony and when I’d explain about my Benjamin, they looked at me in disbelief. Parties, birthdays, events, we could never go. I lost friends and soon people stopped inviting us. In a way it was a relief because it was stressful to always say no as well.

I’m giving a fast version of the events ofcourse, since I’m not planning on writing a book about it…at least not yet. But it wasn’t until one day, when I had just had it. I was tired of being unhappy and not knowing how to show my son any love. I had always been a fun mom with my other two boys and I felt like a failure here with my very last one. My face dragged to the floor, my hair was beginning to turn white, I gained so much weight from being depressed and not going anywhere public anymore. My blood pressure was bad and I woke up with my eyes blood shot on several days. I began praying for answers and I wasn’t getting any. My husband worked and when he got home he wanted no responsibility whatsoever with the boys, especially none with Benjamin. My marriage was deteriorating…I was full of resentment. Pity party.


Why was I doing this all alone? Why was I failing at the one thing I wanted to succeed in the most in life?

All the psychology I knew was out the window. All the Child psychology, Child Development courses I had taken meant nothing because I had no CONTROL of my son.

I collapsed on the step of my fifth wheel, inside by the bedroom. I cried and cried and buried my face in my hands and cried—exhausted.

“I’m trying Benjamin…I’m really trying…”

Just then, I looked up and I see Benjamin walking towards me, he’s stopped crying too and is no longer screaming. He touched my face and wiped a tear away…with so much tenderness, so much empathy. How could this three year old possibly understand me? I looked in his eyes…I mean deep in his core…as if he was allowing me to do so…he could not talk…all he could do was make noise and in his stare I saw what he told me.

“You are too…huh? Benjamin?…you are also trying— huh?”

Instantly, our worlds changed from that day forward. I don’t know how it was possible but we understood each other. It was as if we were lifted in a space bubble, both sharing this moment and in it, God gave us the opportunity to find comprehension. Autistic son with his mother and Crazed mother with her son.

Once I comprehended that he was trying…a lot harder than I was…my approach changed. I mean, after all, he had only been in this earth for three years and I had been here for forty three now and still feeling sorry for myself? I realized I was his mother for a reason and I brought him here so that I would just love him. I was the one who had to adapt.

We chose to choose our battles from now on. I opted to having more kisses and hugs and fun and tell him how much I loved him than getting angry because he won’t get his shoes on…or because he doesn’t want to wear a jacket. We began to compromise and I started trusting him more with things and letting him have responsibilities.

It’s been great. I try to get him to sleep early so he can be feeling good in the morning. Before he goes to bed I kiss him and tell him I love him. I smile often and model behavior. If I tell him not to scream, I can’t be loosing my temper either. If I’m upset at something, I tell myself to count to ten and breathe in and out and say, “Calm down Emma…breathe.” I know he’s watching. Seldom do I give him a time out anymore but if I do and if he cries and throws a fit, I tell him he’s off time out when he is calm and stops screaming. As soon as I hear he has stopped and is calm, I call him over and with a stern voice, I tell him I didn’t like the behavior but that I love him and then, with a stern/sweet voice (I’ve mastered it), I tell him to give me a hug and I kiss him and tell him I love him. It make his day and mine and we are all good again.

It’s been working out for us. If he thinks I’m upset at him, he quickly searches my eyes and I make sure I communicate love for I know that is how he sees me, through my eyes.

I love my Benjamin so much. I love him for who he is and what he’s come to teach me. My life is so much more free. I don’t care if friends are gone right now, they’ll just have to understand. He’s my priority and I am so grateful. I even stopped working just to share these moments with my son. I was scared that he’d be off to school and I wouldn’t know him but now I know him and we have bonded like no one would have ever imagined.

Benjamin is now in a Special Ed class-prek and is doing fabulous. He goes part time, leaving me a few hours to continue with my writing and my blog. When the bus picks him up, he loves going in the bus and thinks he’s such a big boy. My mom, my dad, my eldest and myself walk out to the front of the house and excitedly wave him off and send him with blessings. He is always in a good mood for school. When he returns, my mom, my dad, his father and his middle brother, we all stand outside to greet him and ask him about his day even if he doesn’t answer. He comes home happy and hungry for dinner.

Sometimes he doesn’t like what I’ve set up in the dinner table for him to eat and he’ll push the plate away. We’re working on what to do when that happens. Also, his vocabulary has expanded and he doesn’t scream like before.

Well, this is us in a nutshell. I wouldn’t advise anybody anything because I know every child is different. All I can say is that we found something that works for us and we’re loving life. ❤ He’s got so much love at home that I don’t care who is ok with him or not. He’s got his family who accepts him and supports him and we’re all working together now to make his existence a spectacular one.

Tomorrow we are traveling eight hours to go to a friend’s baby shower. There will be many other kids there too. I think he’s going to do great but we’ll see. Either way, I’ve got a Plan B and Plan C. LOL. I’ll post on here about our trip on Monday, hopefully. Stop by and see how our weekend went! =)




Polishing up Genevieve

So, I’ve been away for a short while. My eleven year old son has been wanting to read my book, The Silent Life of Genevieve, and every time I tell him it’s not for kids. I felt horrible because here he is, admiring me and wanting to write stories himself, and he can’t even read my book. SO…I rewrote/re-edited my novel to fit a pre-teen. It wasn’t easy. He didn’t want me to change it much but I had to. Those who will read my book, will know why. I guess at the end, it’s safe to say it’s geared for ages 14+. I’m allowing my son to read it though because it’s no different than what is shown on tv nowadays. Plus, my son is a pretty mature eleven year old. I left a few bad words in there but did get the “F” words out. I also made it about physical abuse such as “beatings” rather than “rape”.

So, all this took me a while to do. As I was re-editing, I noted there were several mistakes. I had submitted my story to the 24th Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards and as per the judges comments, I decided to go ahead and fix the errors found by the judge. I’ve probably read the novel about ten times, if not more, I’m frankly seeing spots! And I forgot how to spell. LOL

It’s funny how you can write a book and then wonder if you misspelled “which” or get confused with your commas,;…—lol.

Nevertheless, it is finished. I’m hoping there will be no more errors but if there are, I know they’re minor…maybe a misplaced comma?

If anyone would be interested in this PG13 edition, let me know and I’ll add it to my book store. I’ve entitled it The Silent Life of Genevieve – Everett Edition. =)

Someone tried to kill me today…

Someone tried to kill me today. I didn’t get to see their face; it was all so sudden. I was driving on an off ramp, going the speed limit—when I saw the vehicle. It was approaching quite fast directly behind me—white truck; not a monster truck but still quite high. I can’t recall the make and model. I was so startled when it happened and couldn’t think straight. All I felt was instant rage. Possibly the kind a momma bear feels when her young cub is in danger, since my son was riding in the back.

I’m not sure if they were male or female but I feel inclined to say HE. I have no idea why anyone would want to kill me and my son. Maybe I’m some kind of Sara Conner and some bad-ass from the future was sent to my 2017 to extinguish me? What if they meant to kill my son? I won’t know for now. I can just say I’m safe in my home, in front of my computer, blogging, telling y’all the story.

He came fast behind me. I had a car to my left and HIM following close behind. In an instant, the way most killers do in movies when they’re  trying to run someone off the road, HE switched lanes to my right and spad up. We were all three following the curve of the ramp, turning left, when he decided to go for the kill. He didn’t even care about the car next to me as he spad up and switched lanes again, cutting me off—the way killers do. His back bumper came so close to my van that if I had not had spidey reflexes, he would’ve hit me for sure. I probably would’ve hit the other car that was next to me. My son and I could have been dead.

Now, as I sit safe in my home, whenever I hear an engine reeving, I think it’s him. Is he stalking me? Is he waiting for the moment I forget?

Killers are cold blooded. If this man didn’t care about my son, what makes you think he’ll care about yours? Beware. They are out there…sent from the future…to kill.


Easter-What Came First? The Chicken or the Bunny?

Easter. I was brought up Catholic, strict about sex but lenient about alcohol and smoking (Though for the record, I HATE SMOKING and I don’t drink much nowadays…oh and sex? Not much of that either nowadays…lol). Let me clear that up for you since I brought it up. My mom used to smoke many years ago, and my dad wasn’t an alcoholic but a social drinker with a two drink maximum. There. Can I please go on now? Ok. So they did take us to mass every Sunday, we had a bible study at our home for a couple of years, and Easter Sunday was a huge deal—with lots of prayers as we prepared for the big day. We’d dress up and head to an overcrowded mass. Everyone there was wearing pastels and looked like they were all headed to the Del Mar races afterwards. After mass, we’d come home and nothing much would happen after that—at first.

When my parents began having more American friends, that’s when we started going to Easter egg hunts. I don’t remember thinking much about it except that it was fun to be playing with a bunch of kids and getting candy and sugar.

When I became a mother, I followed the Easter egg hunt tradition with my son but when his father and I divorced, I just let him take over. I didn’t have family here in the US and my brothers didn’t marry nor had kids so, I thought he should stay with his dad and he’d just bring him in the evening. His father had like seven sisters and plenty of nieces and nephews and I was sure my son would have more fun with his father’s side of the family. So, for many years, I didn’t have the spirit of Easter and chicken and bunnies and hunting.

Through the years, I let my Catholic faith go and decided there was a little bit of truth in ALL religions but I wondered why this Easter bunny thing was as it was? When did this Easter egg hunting come to be? Sure, it’s fun for the kids but I just didn’t understand why it should be fun? At least make chocolate crosses and have the kids look for them? Or make plastic, hallow faces of Jesus and put candy inside and have kids find them? I don’t know. (humor)

It was until yesterday, when my parents, still following the hunt tradition for my next two children, and I were sitting in the backyard; relaxed, stuffed from all the delicious grub, began to talk about the meaning of Easter. My mother, who loves history and loves reading, had an answer to almost all of my questions. She even mentioned that the Jewish also celebrate an Easter. I did not know that! I was full of more questions. We went all the way back to Abraham and Egypt and each time I had more and more questions. I realized I just wanted to know too much and my mother began feeling frustrated (I should do my own reading). LOL. I left it alone but from all the questions I asked, she did not have an answer for one. She could not answer why the bunny and the chicken? LOL

Good day my PEEPS =D


Clearing the Air with Frankincense

Lately I’ve been feeling hate—hate towards my husband mostly. One day, that was all I could think about. He got home from work and I felt this negative energy consuming me. He got close to me and placed his arm around me—I wanted to push him away, almost in a rage. I didn’t know why.

Being a problem solver, I begin going through everything I’ve learned in my life so far. I realize my anger must be with my father, but why? I begin analyzing. Though it’s all making perfect sense (I’ll save the results for a later post) I admit there is a negative energy present.

Yesterday, I felt it. My mother is a big believer of spirits and I worry about her. I feel I’m here to protect my family. Several things have happened which have no explanation, and though I try to ignore such things, I admit I do believe in energy. After all, that is what moves us all.

I’ll keep this post short and share only the need to clean the air every now and then. I’m not an expert on everything; I don’t know why this works, but it does.


I found an article with some information I’d like to share. Apparently, there are different incense for different needs. For example, I didn’t know one shouldn’t burn Myrrh by itself!

“Unless it is mixed with an elevating incense it is liable to bring negative things to the person using it incautiously.” [article by Draja Mickaharic]

I think this would be a MUST read for those interested in incense. I’ll only share the title:

Cleansing Your Home and Environment with Incense

Will and Testament

Yesterday was a lovely morning. My mom and I were bonding like we haven’t bonded in a long time. We were talking about books (one of our favorite topics) and I shared with her my next book. This time, she sounded supportive. I almost stopped several times since there were several interruptions, and expecting her to let me; but she reminded me to continue.

You see, my mom and I haven’t been the best of friends. We’ve always had animosity towards one another. There was even a time I could tell you I felt hate. Even towards my father.

There are so many mixed feelings about the experiences I’ve had with them in this life. My husband says I obsess about it but I call it something else. You see, I’m also a mathematician, a psychologist, a teacher, a counselor, a problem solver. I need to solve problems. I have to. That is what I do. People come to me to help them solve theirs but no one is as dedicated to solving their problems as much as I have been to solve my own. After all, that is how I fought and won my battle with depression.

After my wonderful morning with my mother, my father comes and reminds my mother they have somewhere to be in the next hour. I usually don’t ask them where they’re going, but this time, for the sake of keeping the conversation with my mother going, I ask. My mom tells me they’ve got an appointment with a lawyer.

“A lawyer?” I ask.

“Yes, for the will.”

I don’t dare ask anything else. At the same time, I’m fearing I possibly heard wrong. My expression is expressionless, unresponsive. I even feel guilty for not responding but I just don’t dare.

Two reasons: One, I’ve been accused of being a person of monetary interests by my mother. (That really hurt but the child who will always reside in me is willing to forgive her; for this morning she’s been kind.) Second, I don’t want to face the destiny that awaits us all.

Though I’ve had issues with my parents, I need them both, still. I feel an urgency to solve this puzzle. My time is limited and I must solve it before they pass on. I don’t want to live without them in an abyss of misery with unanswered questions.

In the afternoon, I hear again where they were. I finally gather the courage. I have to know, and I ask, “Lawyer for what?” My mother affirms my fears—to write their will and testament.

I wanted to cry but I didn’t. How do you react to that? Do you joke about it and ask for her book collection? Do you weep and fall to your knees and possibly make them feel worse about how close they are to moving to the next unknown? Again, I looked down, fearing my puzzled expression would show. I said nothing.


When is the Right Time to have a Boyfriend?

Back in junior high I was such a shy kid. I wore my bangs all in front of my face, making sure they covered my whole face. If a boy liked me, I’d just go and hide under a rock, seriously. It was so scary to me. Once, a boy grabbed my butt and it scared me so much that I avoided going to my locker (his was next to mine) for as long as I could. This was in 8th grade. I had no idea why anyone would want to touch my butt. As far as I was concerned, it served two purposes: to sit and squeeze out the poo. Why a guy would want to touch it was freaky to me.

High school was even worse. I was Death-Rock (now Goth) and wanted to have an artistic, complicated, Alien Sex Fiend (a band back in the day) kind of boyfriend. But how? I had no idea how to flirt; how to talk to a boy; how to even kiss. I felt I was falling behind in the ‘love’ area and it wasn’t long until the pressures of high school social life cornered me. I didn’t want to be the last girl to finally kiss a boy but I didn’t know why none of the boys wanted to go out with me. I thought I was ugly. I thought my teeth were crooked, my thighs humongous, my butt too flat and to make it worse, I was Mexican.

All my life I had heard bad things about being Mexican. Since I can remember no one wanted us in the US and my parents were fixing their immigration papers. They were a mess, trying to fit in and attain residency while little ol’ me, I was a mess just knowing their stomachs were in knots every time we’d come across border patrol. The hundredths of questions we’d have to answer as the officers shuffled through the stack of papers my parents had to carry with them at all times.

I just had too much to deal with and all this time I just wanted a boy to like me. Not like me and grab my butt, but the like me like Sixteen Candles, where the girl gets the handsome boy, who’s way out of her league, but he likes her because she’s got self respect. But what self respect if I didn’t even like myself? I hated my body, one boob bigger than the other; I wasn’t white enough to be death-rock and lure in that death rocker I liked; I was even the wrong type of Mexican. Often I’d hear other Mexican’s talk bad about those from Mexico City. I had no clue why but I knew my parents lost friends because of it. I thought we were all the same but apparently not.

So here I am, a mess. Not knowing where my place is but I just know I want to daydream; where the boy is sweet and carries my books to class. Instead, I start settling for less. I ended up kissing loosers. Really. There was this one kid who was a trouble maker and I kissed him after school one day. We kissed a few more times after that and I even allowed him to touch my butt, but nothing else developed from it. I was sad because not even the “worst” kid in school asked to be my boyfriend.

The moral of this blog is to advice young ladies when is a good time to have a boyfriend. I’ll say this, “It is when you can look in the mirror and see yourself and you like what you see. Love yourself, respect yourself; protect that which is most precious, you; because if you don’t, you WILL regret it. Watch my video on Youtube. I’m typing away and cutting so much out because I don’t want this blog to go on and on but I do say some meaningful advise on my video. Many times our parents have so much baggage and they just can’t help us with these types of life choices. I wanted to share a bit of my life and family so you can see how we all have something that can be used as an excuse to convince ourselves why we are not worthy. But I’m telling you, we need to raise our standards. Watch my video and remember, love yourself and accept nothing less.

Love big or go home! xoxo