Public Service Announcement

Poor little sad neglected blog. Hopefully, now that the shock of my new academic life is wearing off, I will post more often.

It is a classmate that inspired me to start posting again. No, not because she was so brilliant or encouraging, but because I need to warn you all. So listen up, normal people!

It is not ever appropriate to ask the mother of a child on the autism spectrum "so, what's your child gifted at?" Got that? Even if that is what pops into your brain the moment they say autism. Even if EVERY child you met on the spectrum happened to be a whiz at music or art or math. Even if you love the movie Rainman. Not ok.

Why? Because I had no good way to answer that. Because for an instant, I wanted to burst into tears. Because it is as ridiculous of a stereotype as "autistic children don't show affection". Yes, maybe some autistic children can play the piano by ear by her age, or read perfectly. She can't, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. It's not as though I need her to be gifted in some area so as to make up for her delays in other areas. And by asking me that question, this lady put me in the really awkward position of having to say that there is nothing especially grand about my child. I am looking for moments to brag on my child for saying the word "strawberry", and instead I get handed the opportunity to stutter "Ummm...well, she likes music. And letters."

Now, if I'd been a bit more quick witted, here are all the things I could have said that Diva Girl is gifted at:
-bear hugs
-tantrum throwing
-tutu twirling
-dazzling people with her smiles
-eating large amounts of pasta
-nose picking
-lining things up
-picking out fun outfits
-making mommy laugh
-keeping people guessing
-dare-deviling
-high pitched screams
-interpretive dance
-cuteness

I think that is plenty gifted.
Just don't ask though. Because if you wouldn't ask the question of a person with typical children, you probably shouldn't ask me either.

Pickle moments

As much as I try to plan, these moments happen. You know, the moments when Diva Girl completely flips out over something that seems small and inconsequential. I've learned to never hand her a container of crackers without first checking to see that the cracker on top is not broken. I've learned to make sure that I don't put the spoon in the yogurt before setting it on the table. But there are some things beyond my control, and then it is "buh bye sane Diva Girl!" She cries. Throws herself on the floor. It is the end of the world (as we know it)!

These flip outs drive me a little nuts. I want to say "Just eat the cookie and get over it! So what if it's in two parts instead of one?"

But then I try to put myself in her shoes. I heard a comedian once talk about how when a kid loses his ballon, adults tend to brush it off and just tell them they can get another. He told us to think of our wallets floating away, how we would feel if someone told us we could just get another...we would cry like a little kid! So, I thought maybe I could think of how it would feel to get a broken cracker instead of a whole one.

And that's when it hit me....Pickles!

See, I hate pickles. I mean, really, really, HATE pickles. And there have been times that I have been ravenous and ordered a plain burger at a drive thru, and bite into it...only to discover a pickle. I won't lie, I have cried over it. Ugh, a pickle! You can't just tell me to pull it out and keep eating it or anything, because it still tastes like a pickle.

The pickle completely ruins anything it touches. Trust me.

So I thought of how I feel in that moment, when there is a pickle in my burger. And now when Diva Girl freaks out, I just think...she's having a pickle moment.

That I can understand.