House of A Writer

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️


I’ve been filling my life with excuses and now it’s starting to catch up with me. I’ve said I didn’t get all my laundry folded and put away because I was the toy police and making my little ones clean up their rooms. As I watched my hubby spread the laundry from the washer, dryer, to the floor. And those 2 loads quickly became 6. ? My laundry and I have a prison relationship, I’m either it’s bitch or she’s mine. I’ve made excuses about why I stay up late because of my sons sleep apnea, a house to tidy, or that never ending laundry basket to conquer. Truthfully I love that still quiet time in the darkness, that’s just for me alone. I listen to everyone sleeping, snoring, and breathing. As in always on alert for when I’m needed. You’ve never known helplessness until you hold your child in your arms and shake them awake, to get them breathing. I’ve made excuses about my sons sensory condition so I don’t have to be overwhelmed with meeting people with neurotypical lives. I know that sounds harsh, but for most part it’s true. A lot of Moms at those playgroups don’t have to worry about their child bashing and crashing into other kids when they’re seeking sensory input. And here I love to write, share, and interact, with you all and I’ve been asked if I’ve any of my blogs published. The answer is no they haven’t, other than a guest blog I was honoured to write for the lovely Brain. So why wouldn’t I want to see myself published on a social media? I’ve made the excuse I don’t know how to go about making it happen, or my writing’s not that good. All excuses because of my fear of rejection, truth is I’ve submitted to well know publishing giants and a Mommy blog with a huge following. And I’ve received no reply, nothing, nada, zilch not even thank you but no thank you email. I’ve made excuses with my heart too, like my 6 year long grieving period. I’ve learned that grief comes in waves, so over time I’m learning how to surf them. But what happens if I heal from my grief, who does that make me, and what do I become without that crushing loss in my life affecting me? My husband has even made excuses for me like I don’t like to get lost so I don’t go far. So he’ll drive so I don’t have to panic if I make the wrong turn. What can I say anxiety a bitch, and fear is an evil dictator. It’s gotten better since SIRI came into my life. I’ve done more road trips since her introduction in the last 4 months than I have in 4 years!!! I’ve gotten tired of my excuses of putting myself last because I wanted to be a better wife and Mom. My marriage has suffered because I’ve made the excuse I’ve needing to be there for our children than putting my husband first once in a while. When you have kids with neurological conditions excuses can become your life. When life becomes too difficult at home, you manage, survive on whiffs of consciousness and capabilities. It’s easier to make excuses about not leaving the house, or my youngest son not making friends because I’m wrapped up in the fear of what could happen. Or every time we have to move with my husbands career, I have to make the excuse that even though I’ve enjoyed my time I’m excited for a new adventure. Lies, lies, lies, as I say the words but they don’t register in my brain. My heart’s racing and my mind’s reeling with the anxiety of having to start over again. Will these excuses ever get old, will I get sick of them and just start living without using them as a crutch? Well everyday in every way I’m getting better, and I won’t make an excuse about that anymore. So I’ll just keep on fighting my fears and doing it anyways.

This has been my submission to Saturday Stream of Consciousness. While Linda’s traveling her lovely friend has used the prompt excuse. Check out all the talent that’s linked up. Thank you for stopping by. ?




Is there any degree of sanity in my chaotic, cacophony of a life I lead. I spend my days rushing, medicating, researching, and ruminating on life’s events. I start my mornings with kisses and cuddles from my cubs, then breakfasts, backpacks filled and off to school. I’m greeting with any degree of temperament in the morning. Tired, cranky, get out bed heads, who seem to think that sleeping is an option lately. And sometimes there’s pleasant good mornings , did you have a nice sleep greetings. The walk to school will bring out any degree of conversation. From Minecraft building secrets, to what cartoon to watch when we get home, or I hope I don’t get bullied today. These conversation topics enlighten, engage me, and break my heart at times. As I fight for the last degree of maintaining patience at my sons school. There are different degrees of personalities he encounters each day. Sometimes friendly, fun, and other times mean and cruel. How much is one child supposed to take as he reacts and reaches for degrees of courage and bravery to stand up for himself. Against these mean little monsters who lack social skills, boundaries, and respect. I go through all degrees of Motherhood as I advocate to protect my son from this over populated, overcrowded, melting pot of emotions school. After the walk home there are requests for hot chocolate, cuddles on the couch, and IPad time. Then on to any degree of Lego building, trucks crashing, and tower stacking. Playtime is fun then it’s time for me to work as I sort through degrees of historical stats, people, events as a type out their stories. The mornings flow from afternoon to school pickup time and once again it’s time to go. And the degree of my sons mood is gauged cautiously with careful questioning. “How was your day, what did you learn, what was great about it, and did anyone bother you today?” Sometimes I feel my level of my patience bucket is dangerously low as I question him. I struggle to hang onto to this degree of sanity, so my emotions don’t take over and overwhelm us both. What degree do you flow with your day? Degrees of happiness, love, faith, or hope? I feel and experience all of them. Wrapped up in a big box with a bright red bow shows my battle scarred heart. That has cried for my Cubs, fought for them, and even died inside for them to some degree. Because that’s the degree of love I have for them and always will.

This has been my submission to Stream of Consciousness Saturday with the one and only Today’s prompt was degree. Check out her Saturday thoughts and all the other talent who link up.


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