Apple Pie

"We're having apple pie! Yay! I want apple pie! I want apple pie! Can we have apple pie now?"

So excited to clean her plate to get apple pie, which is peculiar, since when it comes right down to it, the child will not actually ever eat pie, ever--or any fruit in any form. But this time was going to be different, she insisted.

Yet sure enough, after all the waiting and excitement over the idea of apple pie, when it was placed in front of her the response was the same: "Um...I guess I don't want it."

And then outrage: "Why are there apples in it!!!???"

Apples in apple pie? Who woulda thought???

WHY IS NO ONE TALKING TO ME!!!???

is the latest annoying social problem we are experiencing, whenever I try to say anything to anyone, or anyone tries to say something to me. Put that with the "Are you talking about me???" anxiety and you can forget any conversation. Just have a drink.

Only when she's been drinking

After the big haircut today we went to get the promised ice cream, because M. was good while the lady cut a foot off her hair, trimmed bangs, did extensive texturing all over, etc. Without her glasses on I don't think she could see that all of her hair was being cut off. But I don't think she minded. I could have had her head shaved and she wouldn't have cared as long as ice cream was involved.

At the Baskin Robbins two little girls came in behind us and M. immediately pounced on them, getting right into their faces and demanding to know names, why they were there, what kind of ice cream where they getting, etc. 

The two girls were stunned, but handled it well, only backing away slightly.

"Is she always this friendly?" their dad asked me.

I don't remember what I actually said, but it wasn't as good as what I should have said:

"Only when she's been drinking."

Don't lick the inmates

When I talked to M.'s dad via the prison phone yesterday, he mentioned that at a recent visit M. had met one of his friends, and had promptly licked his face.

I didn't see this happen and he never mentioned it until now. Of course I almost died upon hearing the news, and even though you'd think it would be obvious, I still felt the need to expressly state to him that SHE SHOULD NOT BE LICKING THE INMATES! Or anyone!

It's no wonder M. threw up at school today, with all the indiscriminate licking going on. Lately I have seen her lick a door knob, a cat, and the remains of a popped balloon she found on the ground at the park.

Preschool graduation

After almost 5 years of life with a child who spends half the day screaming and crying, and always manages at least one breakdown spectacle at every public appearance since the day she was born, I should be glad M. made it through her preschool graduation with her class, performing skits and poems, and saved the massive freak out for the food buffet line (none of which she would eat, of course) at the reception afterward because in the cookies were raisins and not chocolate chips...I should be glad that's the time she chose to hit the dirt kicking and screaming and choking and gagging...but it's still embarrassing, and exhausting.

Michael Jackson is not alive

The song Billy Jean was on the radio and M. seemed to like it so I told her the man singing is Michael Jackson.

"Who he is?" she wanted to know.

I said something like, he's a man who sang lots of songs. And then I added that he's not alive anymore.

"I'm not alive either," M. said.

"Yes, you are," I corrected.

"NO. I'M. NOT!" M. insisted, giving me angry eyebrows.

Then after a pause.

"Mommy, what does alive means?"

buckle up

The parking lot for the activity we did today was full, so we had to take a "shuttle" (aka old rickety school bus). Right away M. pointed out, "You're right, Mommy, there aren't seatbelts!" (this worked out well because I told her that's why she won't be riding the school bus in kindergarten, because that kind doesn't have buckles). And both times we deboarded, she gave the surprised bus driver a hug, just like she does with Cathy her school bus driver, on the short bus, the kind that DOES have buckles.

Patterns

This morning M. stopped the game she was playing on the iphone to track me down and demand a chocolate muffin, out of the blue. We haven't had chocolate muffins in this house for weeks. But it didn't take me long to figure that since she doesn't play the iphone games as much anymore that perhaps the last time she played that particular game, was probably weeks ago when we had chocolate muffins. And of course, to her, there must be a correlation.

Just like when the neighbor cat who never lets her pet him, did actually let her pet him one day after we came home from gymnastics class, so the next time the cat let her pet him again, M. said, "and now do we go to gymnastics?" Because in her mind of nonsensical patterns, the cat only lets her pet him on gymnastics days, therefore, since she pet the cat it must be a gymnastics day.

She only said it three times

M.: "It's a Cathy's bus song."

M.: "It's a Cathy's bus song."

M.: "It's a Cathy's bus song."

M.: "I said that three times."

Me: "I know."

Let's see...

We scream and cry on sunny days because we're terrified of the thought of bees.

And we also scream and cry on rainy days...for some reason. That's what occurred this morning. Opened the blinds, saw the rain, and all hell broke loose.

Wailing, gagging, choking, while exclaiming, "I don't like rainy days!!

FRUIT

Parent teacher conference and I ask, hey, by the way, does my kid eat her lunch? What does she eat? And what did they tell me? That she eats FRUIT. I haven't gotten her to eat fruit since she was 18 months old. We were in occupational therapy for 8 weeks playing all sorts of games to try to get her to eat anything but goldfish crackers--and ideally, fruit!--and apparently she's been making dumbasses outta all of us because now I hear that yeah, she eats FRUIT! And has been all school year.

The downside of the fun

Of course I love it when we have a good time and laugh, but the downside is that when M. thinks something is funny then I'm doomed to have to repeat it hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of times so that what was once a good memory is now something I dread daily!

Time to go?

5:19am M. heads out of her room wearing her new hand-me-down backpack and carrying her new hand-me-down lunch bag, ready for the picnic. Unfortunately, it was 5:19am and we wouldn't be going to the park for hours, and hours. But that didn't stop her from asking me every 2 minutes if it was time to go.

Leave no trace

Spring cleaning and reorganization projects are hard enough without having to consider the repercussions of an item accidentally left "out of place."

"HEEEeeeeyyyy! MOOMMMmmmmmy! Why did you put that there? That doesn't go there! You're silly! Did you put that there when I was at school? OOHHhhhhh! That is so silly! MOOMMMmmmy!......" and on and on.

And the item in the spotlight is usually just a piece of paper, a stray plastic bag, a dust rag, any mundane object left in a surprising place--like if I get distracted by the phone and forget to put something away while I'm cleaning. An exclamation will be shouted and the above interrogation will follow. 

There's been a lot of cleaning and reorganizing around here now that my friend, the one with all the twins, is coming to visit and stay with us next week. With all their allergies and our collective behavioral problems, this should be interesting.

I'm big

"I'm big! I don't need help because I am BIG!" M. told me off as I was taking her to the bathroom at a church event and had tried to steer her around some obstacles. So she really told me, looking over her shoulder at me, as she swaggered along, and I reached out to steer her again, because she was walking straight into a wall.

...

The screaming crying freak out record for gymnastics has been broken. M. made it through a class without crying. All week we discussed self control, and how she can learn to stop herself before she cries, like she learned to stop herself from hitting her teacher at school, like she had been doing (not hitting in anger, but compulsive hitting to say hi, get her attention, etc). And that if she cried again at gymnastics we wouldn't be going back. It's very difficult for her to stop her compulsive behaviors and crying is one of them. The slightest frustration and her reaction is to cry--loudly, wailing, streaming tears, red face, choking, gagging, the works. Two or three times when she wanted the teacher to help but the teacher was busy with another kid, or she couldn't do something just right, she burst out briefly, then looked over at me with sudden fear, and stopped herself. I also helped by making sure she had a no-sugar snack before gymnastics, was dressed in very light clothing (she's easily overheated), and informed the teacher of possible triggers like being touched unexpectedly and feeling crowded.

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.

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.