by Laura Sylvester

I have PLAS. I have had it as long as I can remember. Much like Restless Leg Syndrome, Sweaty Palms Syndrome, or Chinese Restaurant Syndrome, I only find this a laughing matter when the condition is inactive, or when it’s considered as a legitimate medical issue, or when I think about all the PLAS pills that could be sold, or when I realize that I can make up a fake disease with the best of ‘em. So, most of the time it’s nuthin’ but good ‘ol fun. My history with PLAS really became most notable when I entered Motherhood and it definitely got worse when Elliot was diagnosed with autism. My PLAS flares up just about anytime I’m getting ready to take a trip that requires any kind of prep and it usually starts about 2-3 hours before leaving the house. However, for our recent trip to Disneyland, my PLAS started 3 DAYS prior to departure. And that really sucked. The general symptoms of PLAS may include, but are not limited to, worrying about being late even if there is no schedule, fear of forgetting to pack/bring something important, and irrational/unsubstantiated fears of things going wrong during the trip itself. In extreme cases, PLAS causes bad dreams and negative daytime fantasies (NDFs)

by Laura Sylvester

Having lunch today at Islands was a great example of how Orbit and his service vest seem to inspire patience and acceptance in others. Today when the waitress asked Elliot “what’s your dog’s name?” she actually waited patiently while I encouraged him to answer. (Thank God for the Lilo and Stitch movie and the line “His name is....Stitch” and thank goodness we have been repeating it at home for weeks and substituting Orbit’s name.)

by Laura Sylvester

A long, long time ago  - in a galaxy far, far away… a time when we were all happily married to our college sweethearts and attended very sophisticated dinner parties for yuppie twenty-somethings, a then-husband of one of my best friends made a provocative suggestion to the group; enough so that it remained stuck in my brain until this very day. I remember contemplating at the time that his statement was either genius or the coldest, unemotional calculation regarding human relationships that I had ever heard. Because he is now divorced from our pack, I have emotionally chosen to conclude that it must be the latter. Here it is,  “Happiness equals expectations divided by reality”