TGIF

Hands down, no doubt about it - my least favorite phrase is "TGIF."  I especially hate hearing it at 8:48 am when I'm just getting into work.  Before my 2nd cup of coffee.  Because my feeling is - I don't want to hear TGIF at 8:48 in the morning.  I want to hear it/say it at 5:10 pm - when I'm walking in my apartment door.  After I've kicked off my shoes, peeled off my clothes and scrubbed the subway soot off my hands.  But today, I'm going to go against the grain and say scream: 

TGIF!

Because even though, I was off on Monday and out sick yesterday.  This week has dragged.  And I'm looking forward to not having to wake up at 5 am.  Not rushing to make the school bus or train.

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On Monday, I took The Boy for the second appointment of his re-evaluation.  We have three more appointments to go...I'm not questioning the diagnosis.  I am 100% certain The Boy is autistic.  I just wish I had more of an idea of where he stands.  

And walking into these evals, they always ask the same question - cautiously.  "What are you looking for with this evaluation?"  And that's my cue to assure them, "I know The Boy is autistic..."  But the evals alone, is a other whole blog post.  It's coming.

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This week, Hispanicize, announced some of the speakers for the 2012 Blog Conference in Miami.  And...I'm one of them!  I was pretty shocked to be asked.  I mean, I've never been to a blog conference before.  And to be asked to speak on the panel - Blogging for a Cause: How Latino Bloggers Are Using Social Media To Channel A Good Cause - with 3 other amazing Latina bloggers?  I am speechless.  Because I'm still new to this blog world.  I'm still figuring all of this out.  And becuase, quite honestly, I have a hard time considering myself a real blogger. 

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Last June, I wrote this post: The Weight of Autism.  Well, I got on the Wii once again this week and you know what?  I've gained weight.  I'm not surprised, really.  I've been really stressed.  And I'm down to one pair of jeans that fit comfortably.  Thank goodness for leggings and elastic waistbands.  But I know I need to do something about it.  I need to take better care of myself.  For The Boy.  

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But The Boy has a new way of making my day.  Lately, he's been saying "Mommy is cute and orange." And I think to myself: damn, he has me confused with freaking Snooki. And the sad part is, I WISH I had her tan. Well...sort of. Nah. Not really.   I don't know he picked up this phrase.   And it was sweet of him, holding my face.  Looking into my eyes and saying "Mommy is cute and orange."  It made me feel special...


Until I heard him say it in the parking lot of the Bay Plaza shopping center.  About a woman who was certainly cute but definitely not orange.

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