Sunday, November 24, 2013

Just Say No

Once again, my inlaws are inflicting pain into my husband's life. His parents and siblings absolutely, positively refuse to accept or acknowledge Steve's Aspergers Syndrome.

Not one of them has a medical degree. Steve has had no less than eight diagnosis' from trained medical experts.

Neither of his parents nor one of his siblings will support Steve in his day to day struggle in understanding social situations, or in his challenges in being a husband or father. Instead they try to break us up.

It adds so much stress to Steve's life, and cuts him to the quick.

The only explanation is that their denial is fueled by ignorance or shame, of which there shouldn't be any. If Steve had been born with epilepsy, diabetes, cerebral palsy, or any number of other conditions that cause health or developmental problems would they be 'ashamed'? As for education, there are so many places on the internet to research and learn about Aspergers Syndrome that it is mind boggling.

Family and friend support is vital in the life of an Aspergian. It requires an open mind, a willingness to educate one's self, and a spirit of acceptance.

Not condemnation.

An interesting website that I recently found is 'Aspergers Pride'. It offers all sorts of information. 

As for The Hubster's 'family'?

Well, he finds himself completely torn. They insist on ignoring me, his wife of twenty years, as well as our children and grandchild. They also want Steve to do the same in order to be a part of 'their family'. Which proves that hate divides, while love multiplies.

Gosh, doesn't it sound like they want him to be their little boy, instead of a grown man with his own family?

So, so sad.

And it makes my heart ache for my husband. 

Tuesday, November 12, 2013


I realized this morning that I've been constantly irritated with my husband, for one reason or another, over the last few weeks. Perhaps it’s because of the weather changing from summer to winter seemingly overnight, resulting in my arthritis sending me into agony due to the damp cold outside.

It could be because I would rather be someplace warm now.

It could be because Steve often goes into depression this time of year, so he is sulky and withdrawn. 

Or it could be that I am focusing on the irritating activities and forgetting to focus on the endearing qualities my hubby possesses. Yes, multiple - not singular, though some days I might only be able to remember a couple.

Steve keeps his nails trimmed. I really like that about him. He can spend all weekend working out in his shop on car engines, but come Monday his hands and nails are clean. He really does a good job on that.

He doesn't use my gas discount points at our local grocery store any more. There were a few times years ago that he would use a 20¢ discount while buying a two gallon jug of gasoline for the lawn mower. I convinced him that since I drive around 25K miles a year, I should get first shot at the discounts when filling up. He has since complied, though I know that his OCD is running at full throttle when he's seen the "would you like to use your 40¢ discount now" and has to hit the 'NO' button.

The Hubster eats just about anything and complements me on my cooking. I tend to just ‘cook’, not following any specific recipes. Most of the time my meals turn out great. Once in a while a combo doesn’t work. If I don’t like it, Steve will say that it wasn’t his favorite, and that is that. I just don’t make it again. Lesson learned.

I love listening to his deep timbred voice. Steve loves to sing. Unfortunately he is tone deaf, but a cappella he is fantastic. He tends to do a lot of Elvis, whose music I loathe. I just remove myself from the area rather than ask him to stop.

It definitely is therapeutic to sit and count my blessings. It helps to focus on the positive. I am calmer when I am happy, and being positive creates happiness.

Unless he starts singing Elvis in the car, lol.

Friday, November 8, 2013

New Project

Steve has a new Jeep project.

He insists that it just needs a few parts and it will be ready to roll.

His list is short.

Frame, body, running gear, axles, glass, dashboard, and tires.


There are times when I wonder if my hubby's inability to grasp the concepts of reality are Asperger driven, (excuse the pun), or some sort of mental illness.

"Sweetie, do you see the same thing that I see?" I query. "I see a few parts to put in/on an existing Jeep."

"Well, I know it probably needs a few things..." The Hubster mutters.

We had just been discussing my current 'complaint' regarding the projects within view of our home when he comes home with a new one.

Since we live in the middle of six acres, I'm of the persuasion that I shouldn't have to look at those projects from the windows of my domicile.

The Hubster is proud of his work, thus enjoys 'showing' them off.


For some ten or twelve years now I have been begging him to stop purchasing or obtaining any more projects until he finishes his current ones. But he is obsessed with searching the internet for more. I have explained that we must live within our budget in order to keep our home. He spends anyway.

I've read blogs about Aspie husbands that 'control' the household funds as a drowning man grabs onto a lifeline.

My hubby is definitely not one of those.

With his approval I've temporarily removed the debit and credit cards from his wallet. I've hidden the checkbook. I feel like a headmistress at a boys school.

It's not a good feeling.

Steve promises to put his new 'rig' in his shop this weekend - provided he can clear enough space for it.

At that, I laugh!

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The Junk Yard

Yes, this is the view today out of my office window.

It is very similar to the view out our livingroom and diningroom windows, as well as my kitchen.


I’ve begged Steve to park his junk piles behind his shop. I paid hundreds of dollars to have enough space cleared behind his detached shop to park up to a dozen vehicles.

Between The Hubster’s refusal to build a functioning gate in the fence that goes around the back of his shop, and his obstinate rejection of requests to keep the parking pad in back cleared of undergrowth, his ‘projects’ dominate an otherwise beautiful view.

I don’t get it. We have a big three car shop that is totally stuffed with junk. None of the vehicles parked in front can be put into the shop. None of those vehicles are drivable for one reason or another.

Steve argues that they all do ‘run’. Okay. I will admit that you can turn the key in several of the cars and the engines may or may not start. But none, even if the license tabs were current and there was active insurance on them, can be driven to town and back.

I do want to point out that the camo Blazer K5 was fully painted by moi.

Yes, I am that good.

I love cars and trucks. I love going to auctions and shows. I love a wide range of vehicles. But completed ones. And not background view junky ones.

I have an uncle that is into collectible vehicles. He has dozens of fantastic rigs. Every single one of them is stored in a clean, neat garage space. Yes, he has eight or ten garage stalls on his main house. He owns rental houses nearby with separate garages on the back of the properties where he stores the rest of his collection, all spotlessly organized.

My hubby does not.

Nor will he listen to my pleas to keep his junk piles out of sight.

I’m sorry, but it is not a laughing matter. Blue tarps give me nightmares.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Grumpy Face

I’m whisking sour cream into a humongous pot of cheese sauce as fast as I can when I hear the front door open. 

A loud falsetto voice calls out, “LooOOOOOOwwwww!” 

A rampaging herd of dogs careen around the corner from the basement doorway and down the hallway. Yes, both of them. Nails scratching at tile flooring, tails and bottoms wagging violently, yips and whines echoing throughout the entryway, vigorous canine leaping and bounding to and fro. 

The Hubster is home! 

“I’m in the kitchen,” I call out as I lean back from the cooktop to look straight out the doorway and down the hall to meet Steve’s gaze. Yes, I am now looking him straight in the eye. 

“Where are you?” angrily erupts from his mouth. His face is beginning to contort. 

“Right here, Sweetie! How was your day?” I reapplied myself to my task of mac n cheese for fifty. Except that it was truly four cheese pasta, as I use penne noodles. My turn to help feed Kidlet’s football team on pre-game eve. The players and coaches eat a lot. We moms cook a lot. Tonight’s menu is mac n cheese, pulled pork sandwiches, Caesar salad, deviled eggs, cookies and brownies. Just enough to keep those players full until they get home to eat dinner. I am making just half the required mac n cheese. There are nine others covering the rest. 

The Hubster’s face is beginning to look thunderous. A storm could be brewing. Just what I needed. Not. 

“You said you needed help!” roars my illustrious spouse. “WHY AREN’T YOU READY?” 

I close my eyes and sigh, then take a deep, calming breath. 

I inform him that I don't need to be there for another half hour, then ask, “What are your plans, Sweetie?” 

“I WAS GOING TO WORK ON THE JEEP!” is the rumbling reply, definite warning of the probable intensity of the impending storm. 

“You don’t need to help me if you are too busy,” I respond. “I just wondered if you were available to go to the high school with me to carry these huge pots.” My voice trails off as Grumpy Face approaches me. His stomping feet are rattling the dishes in the cupboard. “And you don’t need to shout at me. I am right here,” I add. 

Kisses and an ‘I’m so glad to see you’ no longer seemed appropriate. 

As his lunchbox slams onto the counter, violently dispelling contents, Hubby begins to grumble under his breath. 

I try again. “You really don’t need to help if you already have plans, Dear. Why are you so grumpy?” 

Startled, Steve turns to face me. “Am I acting grumpy?” he asked in amazement. 

“Ummm, yes,” I respond. 

“Oh.” He stands still as puzzlement creeps across his face. “I didn’t realize that.” 


Steve stands quietly for several minutes. Gears are turning. 

“If you can help me, why don’t you just drive yourself to the school so you can go home after carrying in the mac n cheese?” I query. “We will have plenty of people to help serve.” 

Visibly relieved, Steve agrees to this arrangement. His entire body relaxes, his face reverts to his normal expressionless mode, and he turns back to the dogs. 

I contemplate the Jekyll and Hyde story. Not so far fetched, thinketh I.