|As I said the last time I used this image,|
I rather think that it is.
At the moment I got few ideas.
I also wanted to come on here and update on my search for a diagnosis. By now the Boy has been diagnosed officially with ASD (and would have gained an Asperger's diagnosis were such a thing still available, so sayeth the professionals making the diagnosis). We have begun the process to gain a diagnosis for the Girlie, despite Tilly's initial reluctance to pursue it on the grounds that it would make parenting her more difficult, apparently, and she would blame her bouts of PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) on that rather than... uh... just being PDA or something. And, now, my own 30 month wait for a diagnosis session is at an end. Next Wednesday is my date with the doctors (or whoever) for a chance to be tested.
No, instead all of my thoughts on such matters are truncated snippets.
|Oh, to be that useful and effective.|
I didn't, and don't, know how to respond to that. Last night, as Tilly snapped at me tonight, she had asked me to get the pots done. But I ended up marking some papers (as I said I was going to) having got back from work around 7pm, looked after our youngest and made my own tea, starting work at 9.30pm and retiring to bed around 11pm. I did not find the time to wash the pots last night. This morning I really needed a bath, I haven't been able to clean myself since Sunday evening (itself something of a compromise that was reluctantly made by Tilly). I also had to make the lunches and sort out the chinchilla. I did wash the pots. I got up at 6am (my own fault, I intended to get up at 5.15am) and had completed the lunches and had a bath by 7am. I washed the pots until 7.25am. I had to get into work early-ish today to finish up some resources for colleagues. I did not manage this but I did get in early enough to get some reports done for the Governors and some urgent reviews of other things done (I'd forgotten they needed to be done, deadline is tomorrow). After that I managed to get planned for the day and then it was teaching. I digress.
So, Aspergic twat that I am (or just a twat, we'll see on the first bit) I come on here to plead my case. And what a fucking case, eh?
|See, burying head in the sand is a valid tactic if, like|
me, you are, essentially, a lazy cunt.
|Oh, I'm sorry, is it obvious I'M FUCKING FURIOUS!?|
But here we are. We have a third child. And no, Tilly cannot cope. And she is snapping at me and I can't do enough. As I predicted and as I remonstrated. For all the fucking good that did.
For those keeping track, it's been over a year now. I add this simply to be an arse and somehow garner sympathy for my cause and ranting. It's a cheap shot. When it's been two years maybe, maybe, I shall have a reason to feel aggrieved. Mind you, as I've said, frankly: I can't see us having sex ever again. I don't get anything from it and I can't provide what Tilly wants in terms of the emotional connection so... Poor privileged white boy over here bemoaning first world issues. What was it Bill Wurz said? "Some people don't have enough friends, some people don't have enough food." I think that about sums it up.
Yeah, done now.