10 April 2016
As a parent of a lovely girl diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum, and being pretty sure I’m somewhere on it myself I’ve yet another moan coming up.
If you read my blog regularly enough you’ll understand a little about me. It’s not all bad, right?
National (insert something here) day, week or month usually means the USA have picked a day and ascribed special meaning to it.
Fantastic. Really. We need more awareness of (insert something here)!
Sarcasm has no place here, and you’ll be glad to know I’m being deadly sincere. Or at least ‘ordinary’ sincere.
Sincere.
National Autism Awareness Week just ended here in the UK. Its UK organisers, the National Autistic Society organised, or suggested lots of fun things for individuals, groups of people and especially schools to do during the week.
Schools.
Ah.
My 2 girls, including the one whose classmates would benefit from a better understanding of her condition (supportive as they already are) have been on Easter holiday for the past 2 weeks. I know for a fact that a local authority on the other side of Manchester is starting it’s second week off tomorrow.
Oops!
If we can organise Mothers Day and Fathers Day to a differing schedule to that in the USA, surely we can do the same to help raise awareness in our young.
Onesie Wednesday would have been nice to participate in, if we’d known about it.
I’ve got past the feelings of guilt by the way, for letting down my girls, the oldest in particular; I can’t be expected to know everything, right?
09 April 2016
A new place at which I’m posting drivel;
I have a Medium.com account.
Testing; there’s no Markdown support in the native Android app. Oddly, it’s a deal breaker.
08 April 2016
The girls and mummy are having a slumber party this evening; pyjamas, sleeping bags, popcorn and, of course an age-appropriate scary movie.
I was invited; an honourary girl for the evening. One snag though, I don’t possess pyjamas. No-one ever bought me a onesie, despite multiple threats to…
For laughs and giggles, mummy suggested I should come downstairs dressed only in my gaudy boxer shorts - hey I’ve more than the one pair dontchaknow!
So I did.
Not a one of them, not even Ruby dog (also an invitee) expected how I’d present myself…
A giggle from daughter 1 (nearly 9), a look of shock from daughter 2 (6-1/3) and no tut my wife… a success, I think.
In other news; I really didn’t anticipate my waist-to-cranial ratio had changed so much over the years!
07 April 2016
In a hurry to leave the house this morning, head befuddled by sleep, I failed in one important detail. Important.
The orientation of my new, gaudily-coloured boxer shorts unfortunately precludes my ability to pee stood up. I’m also imagining the wind blowing unfettered where it ought not to…
The good news: my work toilet seat streak remains cold; unblemished by recent prior other-arse occupancy.
It’s the small things in life…
06 April 2016
A metric shed-load, nay airship-hangar-load of people suffer from a life-shortening condition. It’s talked about, occasionally examined in detail, but doesn’t get as big a press as, say, diabetes, cancer, dementia or, the recent fashionable killer, motor neurone disease (ALS.)*
From a Guardian article:
“Do you get enough sleep? Of course you don’t. Very few people with busy jobs, young children or smartphones do.”
I don’t. I don’t need a sleep app to tell me I don’t. I don’t have the will to do anything about it.
But wait!
The article shows me that I’m a throwback, an artifact of a time long-past when scientists, pseudo-statisticians and armchair statisticians (politicians!) didn’t rule our lives. Wine is good for you one month and bad for you the next. Chocolate. Beef. Chicken. MSG. Sugar. Salt. Fast food. Life after 30 will be next…
Moderation is the key, understanding when you’ve had enough, knowing when it’s OK to conform… and when it isn’t.
Sleep 8 hours? It’d be nice. Sleep a continuous 8? Pressure!
No longer.
A question I must ask myself:
“How do I now regulate my 2 periods of sleep to get the best out of them?”
*The Ice Bucket Challenge made a short-term impact. ‘Twas tempered only by my certain knowledge that most used the thing as a social event, and that it made enemies of other, more-established charities. Envy.