Love Hurts

Once upon a time, in a land known as New York, a future blogger was born.

Kathryn was a happy child. She loved balloons, dachshunds and evidently…bag lunches. She was also psychologically wedged between the cartoon-world and the world of reality…and as this photo attests, her parents were too poor to afford any sort of grass for the front lawn.

Kathryn loved playing dress up with her IV, who firmly refused to be seen with her outside of their backyard in “that hideous dress” and “that ‘rat’s nest’ you call a hairdo”, although she felt it was quite fetching…secretly believing the 80’s pop star “Blondie” would totally approve..

She often visited her friend JD at the “farm”. JD would only agree to play “Little Red Riding Hood” if we used the freshest of fruits in our makeshift-muffin-basket and if Kathryn promised to never, ever ask what JD had on underneath that blanket. (Notice the way the lamb and the duck are staring at JD…a wary look of incredulousness on their sweet little animal-faces.)

Kathryn dreamed she could be anything she wanted to be…from a cover model- - -

…to a major league pitcher.

She imagined a future with marriage and many Clooney-eyed babies.

And retiring on the world’s tiniest tropical island without a care in the freakin’ world. (Except for the obvious.)

The reality, however….was a tad...different.

In the past week alone, we’ve had a little bit of this



…and a little bit of that



…and a whole lot of this:



And it felt more like this:



The abbreviated version: My eldest son has autism. I don’t talk about it much. Let’s face it, autism is not funny. It’s sad…and frustrating…and difficult. My son spends a lot of his time with other children with disabilities.

One of them decided to punch my son in the mouth.

He punched him HARD.

This resulted in a trip to the Emergency Room and five stitches to his chin.

Then we went to the dentist, to discover that he had three abscesses that required urgent root canal.

So the next day, he had three root canals. Halfway through, the Endodontic-guy said he had to postpone finishing, as the two front teeth were “mobile”. “Mobile” is a fancy way of saying that they were wobbling and loose enough to walk out of the room on their own and hail a cab. No-one wants their front teeth to be “mobile”…unless you’re six.

Endodontic-guy says we need to go find an Orthodontic-guy who will see us ASAP to “splint teeth 8, 9 and 10” for the next 6-8 weeks.

After four weeks, Endodontic-guy will finish up his root canals and then we can get rid of this extra wire.

They’re hoping he won’t lose one of his front teeth. We’ll just have to wait and see.

He’s still in pain. He’s eating lots of mashed potatoes, applesauce, pasta and cereal with warm milk. We’ve argued the pros and cons to dodging, ducking and weaving versus pushing, shoving and downright running away.

The latter was my contribution. What do I know? I’m a girl….we can go our whole lives without having ever been punched in the mouth.

I’d like to believe that the worst is behind us….but maybe I’m being naïve. I long for the simpler days…when pizza didn’t have to be eaten with a knife and fork and a bag of frozen peas were used for consumption…and not for reducing facial swelling.


If the description of “Supermom” is holding ice on your son’s face, whilst wiping away the blood, whilst not gagging, whilst dialing your cell , whilst driving the car, whilst imagining you’re throttling each and every person responsible for not protecting your child from harm….then, I’m golden.