Finally here I am writing my first blog post! I must admit that this feels intimidating. And exciting. My filters are in high gear. Usually I journal for my own eyes and pleasure with a scream of consciousness technique (oops, I meant stream of consciousness not scream of consciousness but am leaving it as is because, 1) "scream" somewhat accurately describes quite a few of my journal entries, and 2) I believe in Freudian slips ). So now I am trying to write with purpose and for an audience. Yes, I know that right now I only have an audience of one (you know who you are and thanks, by the way, for reading and providing constructive criticsim). But it is still scary even with a small readership.
- Cheap Therapy. I want to look at the humorous side of the things that happen in my everyday life that drive me crazy (and believe me, there are many). Somehow, if I see the funny side of things, maybe I really won't end up on the other side of sanity.
- Connection with others. I'm hoping that single parents, parents of children with special needs, or single parents of children with special needs, or anyone at all really, connect with what I write and, dare I say, laugh with me (or at me, which could be a fine line).
Destination: Homemade Pizza Fun
Many people subscribe to the belief that enjoying the path taken is the most important part of the journey. I actually side with that camp, most of the time. And by most of the time, I really mean mostly when things are going my way. As soon as events start to unfold in a way that I did not imagine, I am out of my comfort zone and focused in on just reaching the destination. Sometimes maybe a little hyper-focused.
When you have a child who is on the Austistic spectrum, there are plenty of opportunities for things to go awry. By parenting Pooka, I have learned (and relearned) how to adapt when faced with the unexpected and that, no matter how imminent it seems, being the center of attention of strangers is not going to kill me (or at least it hasn't yet).
Lately, I have been feeling that Pooka and I have not been spending enough time having fun and creating together. So I decided that we would do a cooking activity once a week. I envisioned that we would enjoy choosing the ingredients together, Pooka would willingly read the directions, and I would teach her how to measure. We would laugh when there were spills or mis-measurements. Then we would eat the fruits of our labor while smiling and feeling quite happy with the memories we were creating. That was the path I wanted to follow.
We decided to make homemade individual pizzas as our first cooking project. We went to Trader Joes to pick up the ingredients. All was going as planned. Until Pooka remembered that Grandma's dog's veterinarian also shops at the same Trader Joes. She became obsessed with finding Dr. B. The first person she saw with light brown hair became her target because "Grandma said that Dr. B has light brown hair". Pooka wanted to ask the lady if she was Dr. B, and then she added that "she just knew it was". I try to teach her that she can't talk to strangers, especially when her choice of topic is atypical to most social situations. So I said no, that she could not talk to the stranger. This set Pooka into a tizzy, with hands flapping in frustration, and voice getting close to hysterics.
Oh joy! Now people were looking at us. I realize that I am most uncomfortable with people staring because I do not always feel confident in my ability to handle the situation. Even after all these years. So my goal became to get Pooka to quiet down so we can finish our shopping and go home. I pulled her aside and very sternly told her that we would leave TJs if she did not quiet down and behave, and by behave, I meant keep her voice down, no talking to strangers, and to listen to me. It worked - for 30 seconds. Then she thought of a new tactic, ask the TJ employees if they knew if that lady was Dr. B. I have to admire Pooka's ability to strategize how to get her way.
After telling her at least ten times that she could not ask the TJ employee about the brown haired lady, I had to give in if I had any hope of getting out of this store with the pizza ingredients in hand and my wits about me. So Pooka asks the employee as I am standing behind her emphatically shaking my head so the employee will understand that she should say no. Once this little exchange was over, Pooka was satisfied until she saw the brown haired stranger again. Then it started all over... And wouldn't you know it, even as I was trying to avoid this person, she seemed to pop up in every aisle we were in or Pooka would see her passing by the aisle end. It was torture (for me and for Pooka).
We made it to the check out. Pooka asked the cashier if she knew if Dr. B was in the store. Once again, with my guidance, the answer was no. Those TJ employees were a bit like lifesavers that day. Finally, we were outside and headed to the car. I peaked around quickly to make sure that the brown haired stranger was not around. With no sighting, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just me and Pooka now. All was calm again.
Lately, I have been feeling that Pooka and I have not been spending enough time having fun and creating together. So I decided that we would do a cooking activity once a week. I envisioned that we would enjoy choosing the ingredients together, Pooka would willingly read the directions, and I would teach her how to measure. We would laugh when there were spills or mis-measurements. Then we would eat the fruits of our labor while smiling and feeling quite happy with the memories we were creating. That was the path I wanted to follow.
We decided to make homemade individual pizzas as our first cooking project. We went to Trader Joes to pick up the ingredients. All was going as planned. Until Pooka remembered that Grandma's dog's veterinarian also shops at the same Trader Joes. She became obsessed with finding Dr. B. The first person she saw with light brown hair became her target because "Grandma said that Dr. B has light brown hair". Pooka wanted to ask the lady if she was Dr. B, and then she added that "she just knew it was". I try to teach her that she can't talk to strangers, especially when her choice of topic is atypical to most social situations. So I said no, that she could not talk to the stranger. This set Pooka into a tizzy, with hands flapping in frustration, and voice getting close to hysterics.
Oh joy! Now people were looking at us. I realize that I am most uncomfortable with people staring because I do not always feel confident in my ability to handle the situation. Even after all these years. So my goal became to get Pooka to quiet down so we can finish our shopping and go home. I pulled her aside and very sternly told her that we would leave TJs if she did not quiet down and behave, and by behave, I meant keep her voice down, no talking to strangers, and to listen to me. It worked - for 30 seconds. Then she thought of a new tactic, ask the TJ employees if they knew if that lady was Dr. B. I have to admire Pooka's ability to strategize how to get her way.
After telling her at least ten times that she could not ask the TJ employee about the brown haired lady, I had to give in if I had any hope of getting out of this store with the pizza ingredients in hand and my wits about me. So Pooka asks the employee as I am standing behind her emphatically shaking my head so the employee will understand that she should say no. Once this little exchange was over, Pooka was satisfied until she saw the brown haired stranger again. Then it started all over... And wouldn't you know it, even as I was trying to avoid this person, she seemed to pop up in every aisle we were in or Pooka would see her passing by the aisle end. It was torture (for me and for Pooka).
We made it to the check out. Pooka asked the cashier if she knew if Dr. B was in the store. Once again, with my guidance, the answer was no. Those TJ employees were a bit like lifesavers that day. Finally, we were outside and headed to the car. I peaked around quickly to make sure that the brown haired stranger was not around. With no sighting, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just me and Pooka now. All was calm again.
I wonder if it would have been better to just let Pooka ask the lady if she was Dr. B. Or maybe it would have been better if we had left the store at the beginning. That is what the parenting books would have said to do. But I was focused on accomplishing our goal of making homemade pizzas just as much as Pooka was focused on finding out if the brown haired stranger was Dr. B. I guess sometimes for us, it really is about reaching the destination and not so much how we get there. Because in the end, Pooka and I did create something... our delicious spinach, mushroom, and black olive pizzas, and we created the memory of eating those delicious pizzas. The path taken seemed less important. And there were a couple of smiles and even a "thank you, Mom". Mission accomplished!
Words from Pooka - "I promise I won't try to eat it."
Last week, Pooka asked if she could bring one of her CDs to school. Normally that would not be a problem. However, the bus driver banned her from bringing CDs on the bus early in the school year. The reason? Pooka decided that she wanted more attention than she was getting from the bus driver, so she decided to try to eat one of her CDs. I can only imagine the scene... Pooka holding the CD in her mouth and, with all the subtlety of a humongous red pimple in the middle of your nose, saying "Look at me. Look at me." So, last week she promised that she wouldn't do it again. I'd like to believer her, but her promises are akin to a politician's campaign trail rhetoric. Hmm.... I guess I have another career path to consider for Pooka's future, especially given her knack for meeting people and shaking hands everyplace we go. She has forgotten about the CD... for now.
