Sacrifice

I think Will has a sliver in the bottom of his foot.  (We all turn to my husband for help for slivers because he is the best sliver remover in the world!  Seriously – even I ask him because I hurt myself more trying to remove it than he does.)  So, I had Will lay down in his bed and held his foot down while my husband attempted to remove the sliver.  Will was almost a trooper.  It hurt so he pinched me in the same spot on my arm four times.  It still hurts.  We gave up.  My husband muttered “I think we should try it when he’s asleep.”

“Feel free to hold him down with your extra arm.”  I responded.

Should I turn up the heat?

The other day I noticed Lizzy was wearing two pairs of pajama pants to bed.  “Are you that cold?”  I queried.  She was.  I added another blanket two days ago, and another tonight.  So that child is wearing two pairs of pajama pants, socks, a long-sleeved top and a fleece to bed; and sleeps under six blankets.

I just added a second blanket to my bed yesterday.

Spending Money

Did I tell you I bought new couches for my family room?  Leather, of course, for reasons that are clear to many parents of kids with autism . . . ah, I dream of the day I can have a fabric couch.  To make room for the new couches, my husband had to haul the couch in the family room upstairs to the living room and haul the well used living room couch to the dump.  Even though my former family room couch isn’t very old it is kind of messed up.  Will walked on the back of it and ripped out the stitching.  My husband suggested that I could sew it up because I have mad sewing skills.  (Just so you know – being able to sew a Halloween costume does not translate into being able to sew leather couches.)  Because I am a procrastinator I predict that by the time I get around to calling someone to repair the couch I will decide it is too old and I should replace it.  Then approximately three years later I will replace the couch and will have saved myself a couple of hundred bucks due to my procrastination. 

I just sent an email to my son’s therapist that seemed a little obscene

I started typing the email . . . then paused.  I tried to think of a way to phrase my request so I wouldn’t feel like a 15 year-old hormonal boy alone on a computer at 3 o’clock in the morning.  Then I just gave up and sent the email.

Dear William’s therapist,

Will you please print out a picture of a naked woman with labeled body parts for Will just like the male one you printed up for him. 

Thanks,

From a completely normal and not in any way inappropriate mother

We have the picture of the naked man with labeled body parts taped in the shower because we’re trying to teach Will how to take a shower independently.  

Because these kinds of things are normal in our house!  

I didn’t really think about my 14 year-old daughter, my 13 year-old son and my 8 year-old daughter seeing that every time they took a shower.  Because, come on, there’s also a strip above the sink explaining how to wash hands in case they forget.

But as I sat by the computer feeling like a pervert I realized that my friend’s son had slept over two nights a week ago.  He’d taken a shower both nights and . . . never . . . said . . . a . . . word.  I can’t even say that I think he didn’t notice the picture because it’s right there in black and white – taped on the wall at eye level.

He had to realize that it was for Will, right?  I mean the picture is right next to a list of 19 tasks involved in taking a shower.  It says innocuous things like wash your right arm.  (Of course, it’s male specific and says to wash other things as well but anyone completing the task analysis would definitely be clean after he finished.)

But I need the picture.  I wrote Will a social story about why he should wear clothes and what parts of the body should be covered and I need a visual aid.  After I get it, I promise I won’t tape the picture of the naked woman in the shower and for that I’m sure that my fourteen year-old is grateful.

Delicacy

On Saturday we went to the Fall Festival at Will’s school.  There was a policeman there.  I assume because of some Massachusetts Police Union reason and not because the town feared a mass uprising of autistic kids taking over the government.  Naturally, I went over to chat with him.

Overview:  He admires parents of children with autism a lot.  He has a two year old daughter.  I said I was glad he was there because the more familiarity police have with autism the more likely they are to appropriately interact with them.  I mentioned that Will is going to be huge and I worry about policemen misinterpreting his behavior as threatening.  He looked at Will.  “Eleven.  Yeah, he’s going to be big.”  He agreed.  Then he waxed poetic about how much better tasers are than batons or bullets.  Which, yes, I grant him but just the thought made my head explode.  Then I refrained from saying that anyone who tased my son was in for a massive amount of grief.  Are you proud of me?

One of Those Days?

Have you ever had a day that starts off great, then ends up like this?

Sometimes I am remarkably like a man

I called my sister.  She asked me what I was doing for my husband’s birthday.  “Thanks for reminding me!”  I said, “My kids get testy when he doesn’t get a cake.”  Later on that day when I talked to my mom she causally worked his birthday into the conversation.  “Oh, yeah, I have something planned.”  I told her.  And I did . . . now that I remembered.

I don’t buy my husband any presents because if he wants something he buys it himself.  But if I was going to buy him something this year, I would have bought him a blender (truly – hand raised; look, I also give bad man gifts or money) . . . I broke our blender making green smoothies and made him a little sad).   

Hmm, perhaps creativity is not one of my strengths.  For the first ten years we were married I bought him socks every year for his birthday and occasionally for Christmas.  But don’t feel too sorry for him because last Christmas he bought me a ladder.  Seriously, and I didn’t ask for one or anything!

And every year on my birthday and Christmas I remind him how lucky he is to be married to me because other women might get really upset if they got a ladder from their husband of 18 years!

BTW, Eileen please remind me two days before my anniversary, thanks.