Proof that Summer Vacation is Driving Me Insane

(Stop it Dad! I was not already insane so be quiet.)

After dinner Lizzy came to me and asked if it was alright that Will was eating pasta and sauce. (Now keep in mind that Will’s school ended on Tuesday and it was only Wednesday night.) I ran down the hallway shouting, “No Will! No pasta for old men!” Which was clearly a reference to the movie No Country For Old Men. Now why that came out of my mouth eludes me and I will probably never figure it out. I’m not sure why I overreacted because I didn’t think that Will had the regular pasta aka pasta with gluten -- which will cause Will to wake up at 3:30 am screaming; because I had hidden that pasta in the secret mini-fridge in the garage. (I also have secret drawers filled with foods full of gluten and casein but that’s another story.) But apparently, my default reaction to Will eating food that might contain gluten is to run down the hallway shouting nonsense.

Angry Eyes

After Lizzy and I walked in the house I glanced over at the bathroom. There was a bottle of peroxide out and blood on the counter. ‘Please let it not be a horrible accident involving a saw and someone’s finger!’ I prayed. “Who’s hurt?” I yelled up the stairs.

“No one,” Bri yelled back. “But Will had another Beautiful Cover Girl moment.” Will had found Bri’s bright pink nail polish. I found the fingernail polish remover and cleaned the tile, but the polish didn’t come off the countertop as easily. It’s a little pink in places. Yes, it does stand out against the white counter top. No, I don’t care. I am really use to things getting destroyed and I figure it might wear off during the next few years. Besides now it matches the polish he spilled on the carpet in the sunroom. (Well, I guess not exactly because that was purple – I really may need to ban fingernail polish from my house!)

After I gave up on getting the pink off my counter I went upstairs to find Will. He had painted his eyebrows with the Raspberry fingernail polish. His blond hair set off the beautiful color nicely. “He looks like Grace Jones.” I giggled.

My husband disagreed. “I think he has more of a Boy George look going.”

Then Bri added sadly, “I wish he hadn’t given himself angry eyebrows!”

But really, the angry eyebrows were adorable.

Thirteen

Brianne is adorable and smart and wonderful but every so often she does something that reminds me that she really is only thirteen. I was taking a shower after lifting with Marcy when Bri knocked on the door. “What?” I yelled. Eventually, I turned off the water to hear her.

“Can I take a shower in your bathroom when you’re done?” She asked.

Really? Really! I guess she couldn’t wait until I was done. I turned the water back on and told her to go away.

If Only ...

Will painted the house on Saturday. Bri and my husband primed the floor of the tree house. And Will found the paint. He came in the house with paint on his shorts, shirt, hands, legs and feet. I put him in the bathtub and turned the water on. After I scrubbed off as much paint as I could (his toes and heels are still white – I figure it will wear off eventually) I went outside to investigate the scene of the crime. There was a trail of white on the rocks under our deck, and white footprints leading to his swings. There were white paint droplets on the pathway and handprints on the back of the house by the door. It really stands out against the red! Most of it had dried while I was “depaintifying” Will, so not much came off when I scrubbed the house.

However, Will now has paint clothes if I decide to have him paint the house as a chore.

Only in Massachusetts

I love living in Massachusetts. It’s great! There is a deep and sincere commitment to education and people with disabilities, among other things. However, Massachusetts has a few foibles. One of which is requiring, by law, policeman to work as flaggers in construction zones. On Friday, as I backed out of my driveway I noticed a policewoman standing two houses up the street. She was out there to direct the non-existent traffic on my street. Keep in mind that my neighborhood is accessed only from the south. It has no cut through traffic at all. Days could go by with anyone driving down my street!

Then I drove through another construction zone. This section of road was flanked on either side by cones, detour signs and policeman. I’m not sure why neither the line of cones blocking off the road, nor the detour signs weren’t enough on their own but apparently they weren’t. Neither of these examples are as good as Marcy’s story of construction work on her street. Imagine a street ending in a cul-de-sac, maybe 12 houses on the street, a policeman and Marcy.

Naturally, as we drove past Marcy rolled down her window and said to the policeman, “Are you kidding me?”

His response, “It’s the law.”

We know it is, but really – Are you kidding me?

TRANSCEND

Last night Marcy and I went to hear Martha Herbert speak about her brain research at TRANSCEND. It was interesting. I’d love Will to participate in some of her studies. But the story that made the most impact on me was one she told about a non-verbal autistic woman in Canada who had surgery for something unrelated to autism. When she woke up she looked at her mother and said, “I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden to you.” And told her she loved her. They had about sixteen hours together until she went to sleep and when she woke up she was back to normal.

Things Are Changing … Well, Not Everything

Jake and a friend were playing Wii when Will walked by in a shirt and underwear carrying a pair of pants on his way outside. “Put your pants on.” I commanded as I followed him.

“William!” Jake exclaimed in a horrified tone.

“It’s ok. He’s autistic.” I explained to his friend as I followed Will outside.

But, maybe I misinterpreted the “William.” Maybe the scandalized tone meant Jake was embarrassed for himself rather than for Will. I tried to imagine myself as an eleven year old boy who has a new, older friend over for the first time and decided that Jake was definitely embarrassed for himself.

Poor Jake, he has a mother so immune to embarrassment that Will could have walked past the kid stark naked and I would have said the same thing. “It’s ok. He’s autistic.”

Because, as you all know, that excuses everything.