Motherhood Poem

June 18, 2017 Sunday

Eating once a day,
  showering every three.
Kiddie kisses are sweet,
  but I'm tired as can be!

Maybe all those nursery rhymes are paying off? But needless to say, I dunno what I want more: a snack, a shower, or a nap! I'm getting about six very broken hours of sleep each night too. Sweetpea is squirming and fighting me when we lay down, she wakes me up multiple times during the night, and then in the morning she doesn't even give me enough time to put in my contacts before she's crying for me. I wonder if she's teething because it seems like all she does is fuss or cry, and when she's happy, she shrieks this high-pitched shriek that makes my head spin. I'm starting to understand why the only parents of small children I find in webcomics (is this even a webcomic anymore??) are the dads. Fearfully huddling in some corner, under a blanket, sneaking in an update...

Although, interestingly, one of the best cures I've found from getting overloaded from too much poking, pinching, pulling, hair pulling, pushing, bouncing, shoving, hitting, nonsensical questions, screaming, shrieking, throwing, and backtalking, is to just put in my earbuds, turn it up as loud as I dare risk hearing damage, and play either country or metal. Throw perfectionism out the window and sing as just as damn offkey as I want until I let the pressure off. Yeah, that's generally a good approach to stress, but when sensory issues get thrown in it becomes a toss-up of whether loud music will do the trick or lock away somewhere devoid of light, noise, light touch, and inconsistent temperatures. I don't know if low blood sugar from not being able to eat or sensory overload has me staggering the most these days. If it all goes too far, hellooooo sensory sickness!

Sensory sickness S-U-C-K-S. I hate it. I've had to leave work early before because sometimes it will just hit out of nowhere. If it goes slow I can usually counteract it, but when it wants to be sneaky, I just hope I can get home quickly without violating any traffic laws. If I'm at home I can just face it head on. And of course, try to wage an internal war without drawing attention. Having to be stuck in a body going on the fritz is bad enough without either somebody brushing you off or patronizing you. I don't need yer dang pity, I need you to sit down, shut up, don't look at me, don't even think about me because my hypersensitive nerves will probably feel it and make me sicker.

Speaking of sensory issues, here is a code snippet I found somewhere online and modified:

* {
/*CSS transitions*/
-o-transition-property: 0s !important;
-moz-transition-property: 0s !important;
-ms-transition-property: 0s !important;
-webkit-transition-property: 0s !important;
transition-property: 0s !important;
/*CSS transforms*/
-o-transform: 0s !important;
-moz-transform: 0s !important;
-ms-transform: 0s !important;
-webkit-transform: 0s !important;
transform: 0s !important;
/*CSS animations*/
-webkit-animation: 0s !important;
-moz-animation: 0s !important;
-o-animation: 0s !important;
-ms-animation: 0s !important;
animation: 0s !important;

It goes into "C:\Users\USER\AppData\Roaming\Mozilla\Firefox\Profiles\8w2wojjd.default\chrome\userContent.css".

The original had "none" instead of "0s", which completely destroys any site. Oh my goodness, that was a disaster... So I had to change it to "0s". Now if I can figure out how to disable jquery animations without entirely disabling javascript. NoScript seems an option... As soon as I can figure out how to allow PrintFriendly to do its job.

What was the final straw was that I was trying to find some SPD articles. Naturally, everything was advice on how parents can handle SPD kids. But this one site, by an occupational therapist no less, was covered in animations. The navigation menu was nothing but dancing, wiggling crap. Really? You'd think an OT of all people would be a bit more considerate. They had a great bit on sensory overload being like faulty windshield wipers in a downpour, even if they again made the mistake on thinking only children experience this, but I guess us freaks are just supposed to be some weird, elusive thing that only exists as burdens for caretakers and not actually taking care of ourselves or interacting with society.

I can't stand website animations. Not only do my eyes physically hurt and I get headaches from everything bouncing all over the screen when I'm trying to focus or read, but it really breaks my concentration. I'm starting to get anxiety when I get online because I'm dreading the inevitable tangible pain from bad design. There's an old and very important webdesign rule nobody remembers anymore: NO MOVING PARTS.

I'm noticing my recognition getting worse too. Quite a few places use that horrible ReCaptcha these days. I just keep pressing "skip" until it gets to the "click on all street signs" part. They have some really inaccurate and glitchy coding with the "draw a circle around the matching part", and I can't do crap like "click on all storefronts". They all look the same to me. A 50x50 square of slashes, rectangles, and weird colors. Even worse when it's "click on all matching items until they're gone!" ARGH. Everything is fading in and out, popping up, rearranging, it's a nightmare. Sometimes I have to solve six before the idiotic thing lets me through. I've slacked off on some survey websites because of it. They use only ReCaptcha for their initial anti-bot checks. Naturally, ReCaptcha is a Google product. Thank you, Google, for maintaining the status quo I've come to expect from you.

Some day, I'll be able to get an OT. I dunno what they can do to help besides making me an "I told you so" paper to give to doctors and coworkers, but even that much will help. I have no faith in that "we'll just reprogram your wires". I just hope I can convince them that I was normal as a kid and this stuff has developed as I've gotten older rather than the reverse. I don't have any patience for a lecture about how my parents were negligent for not bringing me in as a kid when it didn't really start becoming a problem I became aware of and had to actively work around until my 20s. I didn't even know it was a real thing that other people dealt with until after we had Little Mischief.

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