Truly Outrageous

I can’t believe I actually have a few minutes to update y’all on this week’s craziness.
Starting with Jem’s crazy birth story.  Apparently I was in active labor all night but I thought it was false labor.  It had all the symptoms of false labor; contractions that were inconsistent (they’d go from 8 minutes apart to 12 minutes apart to 30 minutes apart to 2 minutes apart and all over the place), at first they were only happening when I was lying down and would go away once I sat or stood up, and finally, it got to the point where walking around helped alleviate he pain.
Jacques couldn’t take watching me in so much pain, so he left for a walk around 6:00 in the morning.  And I called our BFF Kimmie because I really didn’t want to be alone it the pain.  She was getting ready for work at the time so she couldn’t talk long.  But the pain went away again and I was able to lie down.  So, I said I was going to sleep and I’ll talk to her later.  I was also texting Jacques’ mom telling her about the pain and how maybe I’d go into the hospital later that day.
Then around 6:40, the pain came back with a vengeance.  And I called 911 and then called Jacques’ mom.
By now I was screaming bloody murder.  It hurt so bad.  She was on her way.  The paramedics got to the door and said it was locked but I couldn’t move to get to the door.  I couldn’t even stand up because I was in the middle of another contraction.  Turned out I should’ve just told them the door sticks so bad it feels like it’s locked.  But they figured it out.
Unfortunately I was only in a bra and panties and it seemed like they sent the entirety of an all male fire and rescue unit.  Like a whole troop.
My first words were, “My son!  He’s sleeping in his crib!”  because he surprisingly slept right through all the blood curdling screams I was letting out and I didn’t want them to take me to the hospital and leave him home alone.  That’s when my water broke.  All over the couch.
On the way out, I called a friend of Jacques’ because I knew he’d get the message to him somehow since Jacques’ phone wasn’t coming back on until the first.
They got me down the three stories quicker than it felt.  All I knew was I was terrified.  I was sure I was going to die and that thought scared me more than anything else.  I didn’t want to die in front of my son.  And I certainly didn’t want to die without seeing my beautiful Jem.  Oh god and without my husband?  I couldn’t let him leave all aggrevated and that be the last time he saw me.
I already scared him by flatlining on the table during Jiraiya’s c-section and bottoming out on our porch 6 months later.  I just couldn’t go out like that.  He couldn’t handle it.  He’d lose his mind and all ability to live.  Same as I would were the situations reversed.  (And I’m not making an assumption either.  We’ve both voiced our feelings about this particular subject after those two scares when he thought he’d lost me.)
So, I screamed and kept shouting “NO!!!” every time another contraction started again.  I don’t know who I was screaming at.  I just didn’t know anything better to say to my fear of dying unfulfilled and leaving my family in need.  I dunno, I was just wild.  Like a half starved wolf caught in a bear trap.  They strapped me down to the stretcher in the ambulance but I pulled my arms and legs out anyway.  All I could do was keep bracing my hands and feet against the walls. (Picture Spiderman hiding up in the corner of the ceiling. Yeah, that was me only I have no idea what I was hoping to accomplish with that. Being strapped down or held down in anyway against my will sends me right into madness and that’s without the added panic of unforseen childbirth).
We barely made it to the hospital.  She was almost born right there in the ambulance.  Jiraiya was such a good boy during the whole process.  He had no idea what was going on but he didn’t cry.  Just stared.
We got to the ER and they barely got me into a room.  That’s when she crowned.  Or something.  I’m really not sure.  A doctor swung by and popped something.  I’m not well versed in this whole childbirth thing.  Anyway, next minute, Jem was here and crying such a soft, little cry.  And I was so delirious from the whole thing that I just kept saying “My baby?  That’s my baby?”  And “She’s okay?”
I remember a Dr. Friday congratulating me on a successful VBAC and I remember thinking in my head, “Thank god it’s Friday.” but I said it was nice to meet her.  I don’t remember if I thanked her.  I wish I knew who to write to.  I want to right thank you notes to all the paramedics and the ER staff (Yes the whole staff because it seemed like that’s how many people I was surrounded by and I didn’t get any body’s name but Dr. Friday). 
I my CSW came to the hospital to see me.  And she brought diapers.  A whole case of them.  ♡
I am just so overcome with gratitude that I lived through that.
And what’s funny is that I no longer hate Jacques.  I’m not nearly as explosively angry at him as I was while I was pregnant.  Every little thing he does doesn’t make me want to kill him anymore.  Hormones are a real bitch.
Now, since it’s taken me the last five days to write this, I’ve got more to catch y’all up on in another post.
In the meantime I leave you with these adorable photos of Jem. ♡




In The Meantime

Still waiting for Jem to decide she’s ready to finally show up.
In the meantime, I’ve been looking for anything to keep my mind occupied.
So, I started thinking about making money.  I already know what I’m sitting on a multi-billion dollar corporation that will benefit the world in every way possible.
I started doing research on how to obtain a tax ID and other
guidelines and exploring the market for my best way in.  Of course, I need an income in order to cover any startup costs.  Of course having an income of any kind just to live with would be really nice too.
So, I’ve gone back to my old job as a phone actress to earn some money to start my business with.
For those who know what that is, you’re probably of one of two mindsets; either “Hell yeah, gurl!  Get that money!” OR “What are you thinking?!  You’re a mother!”
If you don’t know what that is, you’re probably just wondering what the hell a phone actress is.  Well, wonder no more.  It’s a phone sex operator.
I did it for over a year before.  Started when I first became pregnant with Jiraiya and continued until we lost our place in Tulsa.
It was actually pretty fun.  Aside from the weirdos with overly graphic rape fantasies and closet pedophiles that called in, I had no complaints about the job at all.  Well, besides the fact that I was using a profile the company provided that happened to be white girls and I had to talk to a lot of racist white guys.  (Seriously white guys, most black women or people in general enjoy being fetishized. Period. It’s not flattering and you can’t say you’re not racist if you’re going to talk about “them” like “they” aren’t people. Oh and the N word isn’t dirty talk. It’s just plain racist. “Dirty slut” is dirty talk. Nasty whore” is also dirty talk. “Fuck me til I break” is also dirty. But the N word will always be racist no matter what you think you might mean by it. Period. Arrogant pigs.)
I simply reported those guys to the site and moved on.
I also didn’t have to do my own marketing because I went through a third party company that handled all that for me.  The only down side to that was how deeply it cut into my bottom line and didn’t know.

So, anyway, here I am.  Back at it again.  Only this time I’m on my own and I’m not putting any effort into marketing or advertising at all.  I don’t want to make a career out of this.
I just want some seed money for my business.
Supplies for making candles and other projects don’t really cost too much.  And any amount I sell them for will turn me a profit.
I’m actually really excited because I actually like money a lot.  More specifically, I like making money.  I love being the beadwinner of our household.  And doing more than just sitting around waiting to go into labor has taken a lot of stress off of me.
Of course I’m not just doing the phone thing.  I also signed up for one of those paid survey sites.  I haven’t made anything off it yet but taking surveys helps kill time and take my mind off of the waiting.
Well, I’m off to list a pair of awesome shoes and bike parts on the Close 5 app so I’ll catch y’all later.
In the meantime, tell me about your weekend in the comments so I can live vicariously through you.  Haha!

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Human Rights are for… ah, humans.


Another eloquently worded blog post from Richard Âû. It’s a shame that these words need to be uttered with such conviction when they should be nothing more than common knowledge like hmthe fact that we need to breath air or that food and water are thing we need in order to live.

Originally posted on Never Less Than Everything:

One does not need to read too widely in any variety of media sources to find an appeal to human rights. It could be rights for children, refugees, women, LGBTIQ, or any minority or majority group at all.

person-110305_1280There are bills of rights, rights are enshrined in things like the United Nations Human Rights Declarations, The Bill of Rights. So many sources of such declarations. There really is. But what does it actually mean? What do we mean and who do we mean?

We call them human rights, surely we mean them to apply to humans? All humans? Surely! Seriously!

But do we mean it? This is the question.

As readers know I am an autistic man. A proud autistic man in fact. I wear that I am autistic loud and proud. I have a question here though. Do these human rights actually apply to me?

I would like to…

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First Thing’s First

I want to go vegan but I recognize that I need to get a hold of how I eat first.  How can I expect myself to adhere to such a strict lifestyle if I can’t even get the basics of simply eating down?
No, that’s like taking a baby who can’t even sit up one her own yet and putting her on the balance beam and expecting her to do a cartwheel.
Mind you, I believe that nothing(no matter how ridiculous-sounding) is impossible.  But I also believe in energy efficiency.  It’s a much more efficient use of my energy to take smaller steps in clearing the debris of dysfunction from that area and then building a foundation and then building the house of veggies.
So, yeah.  I’ll just uh…. get right on that.

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Homeless Dreams


This post touched me deeply as I’ve been homeless most of my adult life. And it really hasn’t been of my own fruition. Apparently, unless I was emancipated years sooner and had a co-signer for a lease, there was no way I was going to get my first place on my own no matter how much money I made (they required I make 3x the rent and I was making 4x).
Then identity theft hit me and kept me from getting a place.
Just one thing after another.
Oh yeah. This touched me very deeply.

Originally posted on The Neighborhood:

I have had dreams and I have had nightmares,
but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams.
– Jonas Salk


from Pavlovce Slovakia…. Damian Baran with Angel


Kendall F. Person quote

Sometimes dreams do come true. When we are children, we dream all the time. Dreams of Santa Claus coming down the chimney with a bag of toys and ushering in good cheer. We dream of Disneyland and riding the fastest roller coaster, arms held high, screaming in delight. We have nightmares too, but those do not last, because we know our parents will protect us from the ghosts and goblins and all of those monsters hiding underneath our beds. We close our eyes and return to paradise. Dreams of sugar plum fairies and soaring with the wind. We dream of all good things, because when we are children we believe that all things are good.

As adults, dreams do not go…

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On Not letting it all hang out


This is a beautiful piece that gives “normies” an inside scoop of what its like for autistic adults. Maybe if more people read things like this, they’d be less quick to judge or condemn.

Originally posted on Never Less Than Everything:

Life. It’s certainly never fails to throw us curve balls, or bouncers, or sometimes even mulligrubbers. I guess I’ve mixed up my ball sports there but never the less. the point is that life often doesn’t go to plan.

Life is A Beautiful Ride Life is A Beautiful Ride

I’m a proud autistic man, and have only had the privilege of being able to out and own that for a relatively short period of time. I spent a lot of my life pretending to be normal. Pretending I was just like everybody else, even though I knew deep down I wasn’t. I am neurologically different, but I digress.

I never expected life to throw me the curve ball of an immediate family that refuses to speak to me.

I never expected to have the bouncer of losing contact with much of my family at the request of my immediate family.

I never expected the mulligrubber…

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