Déja Vu means “already seen” in French…with not too
much extrapolation you can guess the meaning of Déja Poo. 
Ryan had another
craptastrophe last night, complete with footprints tracked throughout. He
couldn’t help it; he was sick to his stomach. I felt bad for him, but worse for
me because I had to clean it up. Fortunately I got to him before he was able to
try to administer some self-care. I put on an emergency load of laundry, tossed
him back in the bath and sat down to a well-earned glass of wine.
My husband doesn’t think I should write about stuff
like this. He says our friends and family read this blog so I should keep to “just
the facts, ma’am”—make this blog less personal and more about autism in general.
My response is our nearest and dearest care what we’re up against. And those readers who don’t know us may know
someone with an autistic child and will hopefully gain a little insight of some
of the trickier issues associated with this condition.
I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for us—I don’t.
Ryan is a funny, sweet and smart little guy who continues to amaze and delight.
I don’t regret a minute I’ve spent with him, but rather the minutes I can’t.
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