Gymnastics - 4th session, Lesson 1

After 3 sessions of gymnastics, M. is already on track for a perfect record of screaming crying freak-outs in her 4th session. The first two sessions she attended was during her name phobia phase, so she flipped out any time the coach called her name. So that was miserable. For everyone. Then by her 3rd try she was over the name problem, but suddenly decided she was terrified to go upside down on the bars, which meant a lot of screaming crying freak-outs, since the coach pushed her to keep trying. So that was miserable too. For everyone. And now for her 4th try, M. has decided to take offense at being told what to do (which is kinda the coach's job) and to scream, cry, freak out and storm out of the class. So today was miserable also. For everyone.

"But you can't even tell any difference," the woman next to me replied when I told her M. is mildly autistic, which is what EVERYONE says and that's why I hate telling people. But I wanted to offer at least some explanation for M.'s lunatic behavior besides just that she's a bratty, out of control kid.

However, one of the kids in M.'s class could sure tell, though she didn't say anything. But I knew she knew something was off, the way she stood quietly beside me, looking up at me with wide curious eyes, then at M. (still crying and wailing), then back up at me to see my reaction, with the kind of searching eye contact I am not used to from my own kid. That right there is the difference.

Dance moves

M. demonstrated her latest dance moves for a crowd watching a live band at our local farmer's market. Some say her signature move looks like a donkey kick, but I think she's working on break dancing. Overall I'm just glad she kept her clothes on.

Dog-gone

The sleepover only distracted M. from having to give our dog away for so long. Every few minutes she forgets and asks me to let him in, then we have to have the talk all over again that involves layers of reasoning behind the decision to give him away to some friends. The reasons are mostly financial, as well as less time at home to take care of a dog now that I just got hired at a job. M. mostly doesn't understand the financial reasons since she solves it by telling me to "just go buy some more money." What she understood the most was when I told her I don't think our dog liked it when she closed him in her room with them together and she would be loud and do things that scared him simply because it was fun for her and no regard to all the times I told her he doesn't like it. She said, "He didn't like it so he wanted to leave. " I almost told her that wasn't true, then decided maybe it's time for a lesson in consequences and how people don't want to be around us if we treat them badly. She wasn't cruel to him, but just way too exuberant and really annoying the hell out of him. I know he'll be happier where he is now with typically developing children who can understand how to treat animals. Happy trails Bentley! (from here forth to be called Bento by his new Japanese family--and no, even though that means box lunch in Japan, they do not plan to eat him)

When I am 100

"Mommy, when I am 100 I will go to God, and you will like pink."

(Maybe by then, but I really doubt it)

The rug

Had to throw out the crappy ol' rug today that has been under the table for years. Way too much pudding and other sticky spills on it so the ants came marching. M. came home and saw the rug was gone, and freaked out.

"I want the rug back! I want the rug back! WAAAAAaaaaaa!"

If the rug sets her off like that, just wait until she finds out we're moving.

Stranger Danger

All I could get from the library about stranger danger is one tired, outdated book from the 1980s with too many words and too few pictures. Still, I hoped at least SOME of the message might sink in.

But no.

In the end, all we came away with was this:

"Strangers are soooooo strangerly."

And the stock photo of the boy running through a field used to illustrate how kids should run from strangers was a particular highlight. While the boy is yelling, "Get away from me!" to the stranger, and, "You are not my mother!" and "You are not my father!", M. took this to mean that the boy is yelling to the stranger, "I am not your mother! I am not your father!" and even taking it further to add her own, "I am not your grandma! I am not your grandpa! I am not your teacher!" while laughing hysterically.

New games

M. and I were in the backyard enjoying this rare 80 degree April day. We were playing frisbee when she suddenly looked around and exclaimed, "Hey! I have a new game we can play!"

What the hell, I thought. Who am I to crush her creativity? And I wanted us to stay outdoors as long as possible before bedtime since the rain will be back tomorrow.

So she taught me the new game. It goes like this:

M.: "You are NO, and I am YES."

Me: "Okay."

M.: "So do it."

Me: "Do what?"

M.: "Say no."

Me: (??????????) "No."

M.: "Yes."

Me: "No?"

M.: "Yes."

Me: "No."

M.: "Yes."

Me: "Okay, that's enough."

And seeing that's all there was to the "game," I walked away to do something else.

Apparently this new game can also be played alone, since M. marched around shouting, "NO-YES-NO-YES-NO-YES-NO-YES-NO-YES-NO--" as fast as she could for quite some time.

Later, she taught me a similar "game," called I WIN. It's where she arbitrarily yells, "I win! You didn't win!"

..............

I think these games of hers are rigged.

Muddling through

Some of us are parenting and others of us are merely "muddling through," as my mom put it to a cousin of mine today, while looking in my direction.

Thanks! I enjoyed that comment almost as much as the one about how if it weren't for the last 5 years with M. I'd still look young.

Zombie apocalypse

I know two little girls who will definitely not be surviving the zombie apocalypse. M. and her BFF are the slowest walkers, can't go 2steps without someone having itchy legs, or gazing at dead worms, or picking up old gum. They will for sure have their brains eaten come the zombie apocalypse.

2 worst interview questions of all time

Was just thinking of the resume I sent last week in response to a job posting at the local newspaper, and wondering when the rejection letter might arrive-or if they'd even send one (maybe I'd never even get that kind of closure)-when the phone rang...

and it was them.

Without warning I found myself in a phone interview, and being asked the dreaded questions, 'what are your strengths?' 'What are your weaknesses?'

So just like that, it was over.

There are no right answers! No one can win! I give up! I swear I'll never get another job simply because I can't get through an interview.

Best two words of the day: NOT CANCER

God is merciful. He shortens the time of suffering, as witnessed and prophesied in the bible. Today the news is: not cancer. But that in itself is more grace than mercy. The mercy part is when that nurse from the hospital called with the results, instead of making us wait weeks for the specialist to call. That is mercy.

Tears of joy

Kindergarten registration yesterday. Lady at the school who filed my paperwork asked if this is my first child going to kindergarten. When I said yes, she shared how she cried and cried the first time sending one of her kids to kindergarten. I nodded at her, vaguely. And she seemed concerned that I understand this is a full day kindergarten program, and if I'm sure that's going to be okay. I just nodded and said, "mmm hmmm, yes, I know."

But what she didn't know and what I didn't say is how long I've been waiting for full day kindergarten. It's been like a beacon of light in the distance FOR YEARS, my reason for getting up each day, the source of my night time fears of district budget cuts that could take it all away from me--oh, the horror!

So what I really wanted to say was, "Oh hell YES, I'll be cryin'! But them will be tears of JOY, lady--tears of JOY!!!"

Right, Mommy???

Right, Mommy? Right? Right, Mommy? Right? Right? Right, Mommy? Right?

Biopsy. Check.

The good thing about kidneys is that God gave us two.

Tomorrow

I've finally learned enough to understand that I don't know anything. All I know for sure is "God is everything and there is nothing without Him."

Tomorrow is going to be okay.

Over dinner...

"Hey Mommy?"

"What?"

"I don't like ladies."

"Okay."

"But I like this lady." (points at me)

"Okay."

"And I like Christian's mommy and Grandma, but I don't like other ladies, right Mommy?"

"Okay."

"I don't like the ladies on tv."

"Okay."

"I don't like the ladies on tv because they say 'cluded' lots of times and I don't like them saying that."

"Okay."

"Right Mommy? They say 'cluded' lots of times, right?"

"Okay."

[there's one commercial often aired on Qubo where a woman does use the word "included" and I always hear M. grumbling at it, so that must be where this is coming from]

"I don't like that word and that's why I don't like ladies."

"Okay."

[Then a shape in her spoon of macaroni and cheese catches her eye]

"Hey! This looks like pants!"

"Okay."

...

And so it goes, on and on, all day long, the talking never stops.

Grandma's birthday

Had a nice, mostly civilized lunch (because M. wasn't there) out for my mom's birthday today, except for my dad's usual choking attack like he does at every meal where we ignore it mostly except for keeping one eye on him to make sure he doesn't turn blue, and then later when my mom went to use the restroom and my dad got a call 15 minutes later...from my mom...in the restroom...because she couldn't get out of the so-called ADA approved restroom. No automatic door opener button on the wall. Of course, I went to go let her out right away, as soon as I finished my sandwich.

But by far the highlight of the lunch was when I told my mom a funny/disturbing story/gossip I had heard about one of her old church lady friends and her husband. As usual my dad couldn't hear what we were saying, and for some reason he seemed to want to know even though he usually doesn't care what we are talking about, so my mom was trying to explain it to him in a tactful and quiet way, since we were in public, but he kept cupping his hand to his ear and saying "WHAt???" So that left my mom no choice but to yell:

"We're talking about my friend. Her husband is addicted to porn!"
"Huh? Addicted to what? Corn?"
"No--PORN!"

And of course everyone turned to look.

Watercolors, by M.

Travel & Leisure

One member of my playdate group is always casually talking about all their trips and activities and what a good deal this or that was so they HAD to do it, couldn't pass up the great savings, etc. This last playdate she confided how they didn't go anywhere for spring break.

I know, we didn't go out anywhere either, like McDonalds Playland or the mall play area, because every other damn kid in town would be there too, I was thinking.

But then she continued on to say they don't "go," as in away (like, on a trip), until after spring break to avoid the crowds and pricey air fare. And then, sadly, how they might not be able to "go" as much after their little princess starts kindergarten.

I'm really glad I didn't say anything because turns out I have nothing to contribute to this part of the chit chat (except for maybe waaaa or boo-hoo) because I can't even afford to "go" drive across town to visit friends, mmm-kay?

S is for...

"Sssssssnake.....and...Ssssssnail....
and...Sssssstop it! You're Sssssstinky!"

A foregone conclusion (not necessarily)

Forgot to include the ending to the last outing to Burgerville with my parents:

After we got home M. said, "And I didn't punch Grandma in the nose!"

Because last time she did.

Send the Easter Bunny for take out

Highlights: Too much chocolate and Easter egg fu yung. My dad hunting eggs carrying a pink basket. My mom revealing her stash of fancy Easter bakery donuts (decorated to look like nests), which she had kept hidden from my dad right in plain sight--sitting right there plain as day taking up a whole shelf in a cabinet, but in a lower level cabinet she knows he won't look in because of his back pain, so he can't bend over. She is diabolical. And no, we didn't share with him. Figured what he didn't know...

Easter: another food holiday

Today: 16 kids. 20 adults. 300 Easter eggs filled with candy. Ham. Deviled eggs. Chicken enchiladas.

Tomorrow: grandma. Grandpa. Coloring eggs the old fashioned way. More candy. Easter egg foo young.

"What???!!!"

Everyone was already pretty annoyed by the time we finally met my parents at Burgerville yesterday. Apparently, my mom had been trying to call me to buy more time because she wasn't ready (she's ALWAYS late) and apparently Cricket cuts your phone off if you're just one day late on the bill (but remember back when people made plans to meet at certain times and there were no cell phones to call in order to buy more time?). So since she couldn't get through to tell me, she sent my dad grumbling over to BV to stalk the parking lot looking for me. And we almost missed him because I EXPECT my mom to ALWAYS be late, so I always have to add about 20 minutes to the meeting time. (It's terrible of her to always do that knowing M. has zero patience!) So we met my dad as he was leaving the parking lot and we were driving in. He rolled down the window, looked pretty mad, gave me a scolding tone about not paying my phone bill, made me feel like a delinquent teenager, and said now he had to drive back home and get my mom since she wasn't ready yet.

So I had to entertain M. (the little time bomb) in the meantime. I asked her to choose, either wait in the car or go inside. She chose to wait in the car, where we played the, "Is that their car?" game at every car that passed by. (Little blue sports car? Grandma and Grandpa? Um, no.)

It takes a long time to get my mom loaded into the front of the car and then her scooter loaded into the back of the car, and my dad doing all the work with his bad hips, bad back, swearing, etc., so with my parents, it is not quick to just run home and get grandma like it might be for other people. It's a painfully slow process. But later that same day, we were all finally inside Burgerville where we left M. sitting with grandpa and my mom and I went to order.

I ordered for M. and me, and the cashier gave the total, but I turned to my mom for her to say what she wanted, and that's when things went wrong and I still don't know why but my mom flipped out on the cashier.

I guess she couldn't hear the cashier over the background noise, and was trying to ask her to repeat the total since it wasn't showing us the total on the register, so since she couldn't hear she was yelling "WHAT???!!!" and making angry faces at the cashier, and assuming the cashier couldn't hear her either, so talked really slow and very loud as if the cashier was either hard of hearing or stupid, and all with a really crazy pissed look on her face.  Then I guess my mom decided it was all just too upsetting to order after all so she would just go without, even though all she was getting was a Coke. Apparently she decided it was too hard to just say, "Coke," and instead insisted on paying right then, all the while throwing a big fit and acting like the cashier had done something wrong. The poor cashier was stuck there while my mom starting tossing her all these BV gift cards with different amounts left on them so the register froze up and we were stuck there so long our food beat us to the table.

After we got back to the table, my mom went back up to order her Coke by herself (cashier probably had quit by then) and while she was gone I tried to tell my dad what happened and thought maybe he would know what the hell her problem was, but right off he screwed up his face and yelled,

"WHAT???!!!"

Weather forecast by magic 8-ball

Latest revision of spring break forecast (now that we're more than halfway through spring break)

Earlier revision of spring break forecast (They really had me going on this one the other day. With the power of wishful thinking I believed them!)

Original spring break forecast 

So basically, when all is said and done and we look back on the week, it will look just like the original forecast, except for the one fluke day of sun we had on Monday, which no one saw coming and they slapped onto the 7 day forecast after the fact. That's how we do weather here. If you want to know about the weather, look out the window.

Couscous

It's autism awareness month, and coincidentally we were discharged from our occupational therapy today. Although it kind of sucks to lose support services, it's not the end of the world, I suppose. Our issues fall largely in the area of gray right now, now that we've made progress with the major issue which was food texture sensory/anxiety problems. Now we are trying a lot of new foods without freaking out first, without examining it with suspicion first, etc. Not necessarily liking all of it, but at least trying. And then not gagging and pulling our tongue out if we don't like it.

Couscous (plain w/ added garlic powder)
Raisins
Rice a Roni (with noticeable parsley)
Chicken curry and rice
Motts granny smith applesauce
Carrot cake
Taco Bell mild sauce
Rice cake
Lasagna (we're talking layers of texture here!)

Out of that line up, the applesauce, the hot sauce, and the couscous are probably the only keepers, but it's at least something besides just goldfish crackers. And we haven't needed the Miralax in a month or more.

* I now have a habit of speaking in the first person collective sense, saying "we" when I mean "she" and such, because of the ongoing "Are you talking about me?" paranoia. It's almost as annoying as the 18 months when I couldn't use her name out loud.

Because I am not a super hero

We took over the way back room of the pizza place today with our friends, the M&Ms.

The Littlest M. grabbed his DS back from my M. after he decided she'd had it long enough. A screaming freak out ensued. Littlest M. retreated to the farthest away empty booth, clutching the DS and regarding the rest of us with a challenging stare.

"You know who you are making really happy right now?" Mommy M asked him, scolding, but in my opinion not firm enough for what he just did.

"Who does she mean? Satan? Does she mean he's making Satan really happy?" I whispered to their Grandma who was next to me watching the showdown. She shrugged, didn't know. The Biggest M., intent on his own DS game, gave me a similar response.

"You need to make a better choice and be nicer." Mommy M. informed Littlest M.

"I am trying!" He shrieked, with bug eyes and dramatic flailing.

"You need to try harder." Mommy M. persisted.

"But I can't!" Littlest M. wailed.

"Why not?" Mommy M. asked.

"Because...I am not a super hero!" He yelled.

And there you have the logic of a 3 year old.

Revised spring break forecast

From 7 days of clouds and rain, to 2 days of clouds and rain. God is merciful! (but I do hope the forecasters don't change their minds again, unless it's in our favor)

I can see him with my glasses

M.: "I'm god and you're god too, Mommy."
Me: "Nope. There is only one God. He's like a friend that lives far away, so far away we can't see him."
M.: "But I can see him--with my glasses now!"

"I don't like to pray!"

At church this morning M.'s bff was out sick and the teachers tried to soothe her by suggesting she make a 'get well' card and pray for her friend, to which M. announced, "I don't like to pray!"

Okay then...

But today I guess she not only did not pray but didn't make a get well card either because all she brought home was a paper plate with streamers attached that says "Sing Praises To The Lord."

M. asked me what it says, so I read it. She repeated slowly, "Sing. praises. to. the. lord."

Then asked, "What does 'lord' means?'

I told her, "Lord means God."

She said it to herself but without a shred of understanding. And that's fine. For a black and white, concrete mind that doesn't understand concepts, God is just a word. Praying is even more vague and unsettling to her I'm sure.

So she doesn't like praying, that's okay. It's still better than last Easter when she announced to everyone as we were leaving church, "Mommy, I don't like Jesus!"