No Longer A Prisoner

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I kept telling myself that I had to keep it classy not trashy. This must be the hottest day in Michigan. The water bill will be so high this month. Right now I could care less. Sydney is playing in the our ghetto inflatable pool, that keeps collapsing.

I know I shouldn’t be envious. But my neighbors see me in distress over here. They could invite us over to their fancy pool with the slide and diving board. That’s okay. I haven’t been the most friendliest neighbor, living trapped in our home.

They have heard the screams, the slamming doors and witnessed Sydney’s escape routine from our house. The way we are looking. I probably wouldn’t invite us over either.

So we took a chance to come outside because the walls were closing in on us. Their dad will be leaving for work soon. One more hour and we can do this. I hate the outdoors. I hate bugs. I hate to sweat. I hate the heat. I hate just about everything today.

Sydney’s new obsession with spreading feces doesn’t bring much joy to my life today. But I must find the joy. I’ll stay out here in the scorching heat until I do. The cooler is filled with freeze pops, juice boxes and Oberon for me. I guess we should eat something. Maybe I can run in the house grab a bunch of snacks, before Sydney tries to make a run for it. Maybe if I turn on a second water hose. She can make mud pies while I am gone.

It’s not fair to ask my five-year old son to watch his three-year old sister. So Jesus take the wheel. I am going in. All I can hear is my Mommy. “You left those kids outside?” “Girl, have you lost your mind?” Mommy yes, maybe I have.

I sprinted in the house grabbed the fruit tray, and chips all while calling their names, so I could hear their voices. A nanny would be nice right about now. Each laundry hamper is full. As I look in my yard.  Harrison lost his swim trunks and hasn’t realized it yet. Classy not trashy is not really working in my favor today.
Thanks goodness Petra called to say she is on her way with her boys. I will make her join my pity party. She will give me major attitude and tell me to get my shit together.

I feel like a prisoner. I have lost friends. No one invites us over to their house. We had plans with another family and they gave me their tickets back for an event. They wanted to go with “normal” kids. WOW! Just when I think I have heard it all. That hurts. Autism hurts today. I am a prisoner.

Maybe their dad will come out and play with them before he goes to work and I can finally take a shower. I will think of the dinner that I cooked earlier. The dinner that will be waiting for me whenever the kids go to bed. Maybe I will eat it in peace. Or maybe I will eat it while sitting on the floor in Sydney’s room waiting for her to fall asleep.

It’s time to put more sunscreen on them. They must be tired. When will they ask to go inside? Where the hell is Petra? Their dad said his goodbyes. And it’s just the three of us.

The inflatable pool looks gross. But Sydney keeps adding more water. We are a hot mess. Whose fault is it that I feel like a prisoner? No on has me chained up in the basement. I have keys to leave and transportation. So why won’t I leave? Not leave my marriage? Just leave my house? Eventually, I would leave my marriage. But that was years later.

I learned something that day sitting with Petra and watching our kids play. I learned who my true friend was. Having a pity party in the summer heat is not wise. But I was searching for something. In my mind at the time. I really thought that I could find it right in my own backyard.

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