Post It Note Tuesday

I’m almost out of Tuesday and haven’t done this for awhile…but it’s my favorite blog day!

And if you love the stickies…go read more or make your own:

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Sometimes My Brain Hurts

I’m tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired…or the exhausted kind of tired. My brain is tired. It hurts. So much going on right now…so much emotional crap being thrown at me from every conceivable place…well not “crap” but y’know.

Someone asked me yesterday if I was really glad that summer was here so that I could have my kids home with me. After I actually laughed out loud I replied, “Yes and no. I’m not a great stay-at-home mom.” Deep down the honest explanation would have been way too hard for her to understand and I didn’t feel like trying. Not everyone cares to know.

Colin has been off his meds for about three weeks. Due to, in part, the fact that he’s scheduled to see his Pedi for a med check and I always take him off a week ahead of time so that we can discuss the differences on/off the stimulants. Butttt….I had to cancel the appointment and am playing phone tag with the office to get a new appointment time. Meanwhile…Colin begins the “Big Spin”. The Spin that doesn’t end.

He exhausts me. Without meds, C is on a constant quest for stim. Tactile stim is his gig. While most mothers would die for the endless hugs and incessant kisses they just make me sad because I know why he’s doling them out. Him and Albert…the fearless stuffed dog who tells me more about Colin than Colin does. Albert goes absolutely freaking everywhere with us!!

“Albert wants a kiss”
“Albert is lonely, will you sleep with him?
“Albert will miss me, so can he ride in your car today while I’m away?”

Albert was at the petting zoo with us today for exactly nine minutes before I’d had enough of Albert needing to feed the ducks one pellet at a time. We decided Albert was tired and should nap in the car for awhile. Then I figured out that Albert is part of his tactile stim need. Once Albert was gone, C decided that putting the little duck food pellets in between his bare toes so that he had 8 pellets stuck in his own little webs was the new “good feeling”. I saw someone walk by and grin while he did that…like it was cute. Maybe to them…to me all I thought was “Please God. Not again.”

The most exhausting thing is the non-stop one-sided conversation. A diatribe on Mario or Sponge Bob I can handle about once a day. Right now…it’s constant. I’ve taken to telling him that he’s got three minutes to talk or he gets to tell me three facts about whatever the current obsession is. (It’s a new rule…should work right?) And then my heart breaks because I realize that we’ve talked all day long with each other and not once has he initiated a conversation that had anything to do with anyone else’s interests or feelings. He’s just researching the facts, Ma’am.

I try to find the fun and crazy things about this Asperger’s Beast most of the time. There are many of them…we giggle a lot and love this little man to death.

But tonight I’m tired. My brain hurts. I need a little bit of a vent…thank you very much.

Flight of Ideas

Well….typical ADHD day for me….brain flits from this to that and then finds a shiny thing to watch for a few seconds.

I was diagnosed with Adult ADHD about four months ago…which caused my mother to say…”Well, THAT explains everything!”.

Wow.

Here’s today’s flighty recap:

“Mom, mom…..Mommy!!!!! Mom, mom…..mom…do you hear me? MOM!!!!!”

Son #1 managed to get through another day of 7th grade without a girlfriend (thank god!) and kick ass in a baseball game.

Daughter #2 managed to get through another day of 5th grade with Maximum attitude…resulting in a few disciplanary actions…..

Son # 2…see Colin Speaks

Hubby? Well, I don’t want to know that he’s in 90 degree weather (and I don’t care how much time he spent inside)….

Daughter #1 I imagine is doing okay since she hasn’t asked for anything lately or wandered into more trouble than she can handle.

Life as a relatively single Mom with crazy schedules and Asperger’s needs gets tough sometimes.
But…it’s good…it’s ALL good…or at least it wil be when it all pays off.

And tomorrow, I cap off or begin (however you want to look at it) my 40 lb weight loss with the beginning of a crazy, insane home workout….

I’ll let you know if I’m alive on Sunday, K?

When Red isn’t Really Red

I would like a word with the Crayola Company. Frankly, any maker of crayons, markers or colored pencils. I’d like to invite them to my home to observe the frustration Colin experiences when he’s required to do a coloring activity. Why? Because not one crayon in the box is labelled “Red”, “Blue”, “Green”, “Yellow”, “Brown”…you get the idea.

Colin doesn’t like to color for fun. His preferred style is to scribble with a Black crayon. However, when homework requires him to “Color the square shapes red”, for example, he’s more than willing. It’s required, therefore it’s a rule and he must follow it. (One benefit of his typical AS personality.) Because his fine motor skills are diminished it takes a LONG time to get the coloring to stay within the lines…but he’s meticulous in that task. What would take a neuro-typical child three minutes to complete takes Colin ten. IF he can find the right colored crayon to fit the job.

This is where my gripe with those crayon companies comes in.

Colin’s literal brain can’t use “Posh Pink”, “Rusty Brown”, “Blue Green” or “Amber Yellow” when his instructions call for pink, brown, green or yellow crayons. Even “Light Blue” won’t work if the required color is simply BLUE. We’re working through it … like we’re working through everything, but it’s not easy. He feels like he’s not doing his homework right.

I do love all the beautiful colors in a great big box of crayons…it’s just not Aspie friendly and I’ll be darned if I can find a normal box (other than with the kids meals at Applebee’s) of crayons without the extra hues thrown in.

Yesterday, I took Colin and his best friend (Yeah! he has one!) to the petting zoo and then for ice cream. Colin ordered his typical “Green” ice cream (read mint-choco-chip) and I got strawberry. He looked at my dish and uncharacteristically ventured outside his zone and asked if he could taste my flavor. He liked it! Cool…

HIM: “Mom, next time we come here I will ask the persons with the ice cream for a medium cup of strawberry…and then the time after that…which will be two times from now…which is the third time…I’m going to try the raspberry ice cream in a medium bowl.”

Well, okay I thought.

Later that evening he repeated this agenda to Liam at the kitchen counter while they ate dinner.

Colin: “Liam, I had green ice cream today…next time I go to the petting zoo I am going to have strawberry…I tried it and I think I like it…then the third time I go I will sample raspberry.”

Liam: “Cool buddy. It’s good to try new things. You want to try raspberry huh?”

Colin: “Yes, Raspberry is darker than Red. I don’t know what color Raspberry really is, but if I taste it, maybe I can find out and then I’ll know.”

There ya go, Crayola…just flavor the off-the-wall hues in the box and we’ll be fine!

Chasin’ the Blues Away

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful day! The last remnants of snow are melting away and the sun is shining. Once again, I awoke to birds singing outside my window…a sure sign of Spring. My iris and daylilies are poking their noses through the dirt and I spy buds on the lilac. My impatience at the cold and snow is turning into impatience at having to wait a few more weeks before I can begin to dig in the dirt.

I’ve been in a little funk lately. Nothing major, just minor exhaustion and frustration aimed at the hurdles and hoops I’m jumping through to get proper support for the C man. I cannot understand why I must apply for Medical Assistance (the application for which is daunting on its on) before being able to find full-time classroom support from an ouside agency. They will also be providing the wrap services of home help and hooking us up with the right therapists.

My mind’s eye is seeing the three more evaluations by psychologists, speech therapist, occupational therapists, psychiatrist…and the mountains of paperwork involved.

OT, PT, IEP, SLP, MA, TSS, MD, PsychD…it’s like Alphabet Soup! Oh, and let’s throw in a 504 just to confuse things.

Any whoo…last night I sat in the living room with all these reports, applications and letters, feeling rather overwhelmed and a bit blue.

So, I pulled up my You Tube account and found my favorite video to watch. Nothing like a dose of The Blues to drive the blues away…and with that I will leave you with my favorite blues pianist and her improvisational skills…

Feelin’ Pretty Cool tyvm

Monday evening I spent two hours at a very emotional basketball playoff—my son’s last ditch effort to win and move on. Sadly, that win didn’t happen because they got their butts handed to them. Not one man on his team was on their game and when they realized that…they started to have fun! Glad basketball is over and we can move on to baseball which will be the thing that moves Liam out of my house and in to college…bring it on!!!

Sitting on the bleachers next to me was a very lovely teenage girl (whom I know well). She told me I was “cool.” Not the first time I’ve heard that from my son’s set (or my daughter’s either), but hearing her say that gave me a warm fuzzy.

YES! I’m cool! (pump fist).

What makes someone my age “cool” to the kids? Is it the way I dress? If jeans, sweats, UGGs or flip flops make me cool…that’s easy! Is it the big car with heated seats? Once, one of the girls in my son’s friend circle told me she liked how I smelled…hmm….ok. Thanks. Does my perfume make me cool?

Is it the wild and wacky dancing in the rain with kids in their skivvies? That was fun and very cool.

Is it because my head stays attached to my shoulders and I simply sigh heavily when I hear swear words and trash talk coming from the next room or the back seat? (I don’t condone it, but it’s not the mountain to die on either).

I must be cool because my kids still tell me everything (well, nearly) and so do their friends. That will change, I’m sure, but for now I probably have Too Much Information and I will protect that.

“It’s cause you’re the warm, fuzzy, squishy cool mom…that’s why our friends tell you everything.”

See…I’m cool, man!

I’ve been sucked in by some of the music my kids listen to….loving Owl City and Lady Gaga (um, yes). Now it’s my job to convince them that the Grateful Dead, Elton John and The Who are cool too. But can’t wait to take Erin to her first concert in a few weeks….TRAIN!!! We’re there babes! “Hey Soul, Sister!”

At the basketball game Monday night I was texting Liam’s best friend. (This is the boy I refer to as “Son #3”. Our house is his second home and vice versa for Liam. I treat him as I do my own.) He was sitting far away from me with the opposing team’s cheering section, so I decided to text him and tell him off for being on the wrong side of the gym. And, I just like messing with him.

Me: “I can c u. Sitting with the enemy.”
#3: “LOL Mrs. G, he’s my old football coach.”
Me: “Fine! LOL, I was just kidding.”
#3: “Ok. And it’s jk fyi.”

What? He’s correcting my text lingo? Really?

A few moments later, Son #3 sheepishly makes his way to my side on the bleachers. He wasn’t really coming to see me, but to check out the two pretty teenage girls next to me. He sat down behind me…

Me: “What the heck, Dude. You feel the need to correct my texts or something?”
#3: “Yeah, Mom. You old people need to get with it.”
Me: “Wow! You just earned yourself very loud country music on the way home.”
#3: “Oh yea? Well, I’ll just turn up the iPod super loud and play the Beastie Boys to fight back!”
He knows how much I hate the Beastie Boys so he often does that to me.

Son #3 slithers off the bleachers but I got a high five on the way out…that’s cool.

I will never know what makes teenagers and tweens think a grown up deserves the label “cool.” That’s okay, I’m happy to bask in it as long as I’m able..

I can live with that.

In the meant time….

I’ll just rotflmao at all their craziness…idk, seems like fun to be a kid these days.

And wth, it’s ok to be cool.

Who Are All These Children…

and why are they calling me mom?

It’s one of “those” days here. School cancelled and all my plans for getting things done go out the window. I sit in the kitchen listening to the banter in the living room and alternate from laughing at their silliness and yelling at them to STOP!

Liam, in particular, gets very hyper when he’s bored…VERY hyper. He tries to find ways to wind his little brother up as much as possible. It backfired this morning though.

Liam: “Colin…you stink!”
Colin: “No I don’t! You’re a fart head!”
Liam: “What did you say? You little stinky kid!” And then mutters a few things in German that I don’t want to know the meaning of.

Colin (who weighs a whopping 34 lbs) runs across the room and jumps on Liam where he’s sitting. Liam (who is 70 lbs heavier than C) gets him in a leg grip and tickles him which produces giggles and then a big round of punching to get Liam off of him. Liam screams at him and starts wrestling him but Colin is like a little fly on flypaper. Once he has his arms and legs around you…it’s a vice grip. This little game rapidly degenerates into Big Brother screaming and getting too rough and Little Brother crying and getting hurt.

So, Mom Referee has to intervene and pull them apart and of course yell at Liam for starting it in the first place. Kiss the boo boos on the baby and give the eldest my best evil eye warning look.

A few minutes later, they had kissed and made up and were sitting side by side on the couch again.

Colin: “Liam, you are such a Kid!”
Liam: “No I’m not, you’re a Kid…I’m a Teenager.”
Colin: “Liam? Can you lift your right leg up?”
Liam: “Why?”
Colin: “Because I want to get under it so that I can get you in trouble again.”

Priceless.

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