Mom in Two Cultures

Dear Comcast and TOMS, You Suck (Can I Say That or Do I Need to Say "Stink"?)

2013-05-18T23:37:00.000-04:00

Dear Comast,

This afternoon, I spent 40 minutes (no, I am not exaggerating--I timed it) on the phone with one of your "customer service" representatives. Initially, I called because one of our "premium" channels had been removed, and I hoped to get it back. Over the course of the conversation, I decided to try to resolve my repeated bill increases. Four months ago, a representative promise me, cross his heart, that my monthly fees would absolutely not, I repeat NOT, go up. That promise lasted for an entire month. Three months ago, it went up $5. I waited to pay until I could call and haggle over the bill, and in the end, my payment was late and $5 more than I wanted to spend. The same thing happened two months ago. As a result of my inability to find the time to call and convince your "customer service" folks to lower my bill, it keeps going up. You're stressing me out, and it needs to stop. The result of today's 40 minutes? Three crying children and a promise that my bill should be lower next time. Actually, the person told me it would stay low for 12 months, but they've told me that before. Incidentally, in order to get the promise of a bill the amount that I was promised four months ago, I had to agree to give up the premium channel I'd called about. In other words, Comcast 1, MOE 0.

I know my blog readers are wondering why I still have Comcast given how crappy you are when it comes to billing and customer service. I don't have a good explanation. Some of it has to do with limited options for cable and internet where we live (way to take advantage of your monopoly). Some of it has to do with trying to minimize complications--switching would require me to take multiple steps that I don't have time to take right now. Mostly, I think it's because I am never one to back away from a fight. That, and I might be just a tad insane. Isn't that the definition of insanity--to keep doing something the same way and expecting a different result? Please don't persist in making my life crazier than it already is.

Sincerely,

Mom on the Edge

My first rant (link).
My second rant (link).

Reposting the picture of Pink's shoes, so you can see what my next rant's about....

Oh, TOMS, TOMS, TOMS,

You never did reply to my letter and phone calls. I'd almost let it go, figuring that a company run as poorly as yours with such shoddy product would soon exhaust its fifteen minutes of fame. But then I saw it--a TOMS display at Whole Foods, touting the One-for-One program, playing on the heartstrings of the environmentally- and socially-conscious Whole Foods customer. Thing is, Whole Foods is not one of your so-called authorized retailers. I checked. That means all those folks buying TOMS at Whole Foods are not participating in the One for One program. No, they're not giving shoes to less-fortunate kids unless they are handing them the pair they just bought. Those unsuspecting well-intentioned folks also don't realize they're out of luck if their TOMS fall apart like ours did. After all, your company won't replace or exchange shoes that aren't purchased at an official retailer.

You, know, whatever. If you want to send mixed messages and take advantage of the good will of people, go right ahead. It'd be awesome, though, if you felt just a tad guilty about it.

Sincerely,

Mom on the Edge

Here's my first post about TOMS (link).
And the second one (link).

Open Sesame--Or--The Lamely-titled Post About Nothing Terribly Earth-shattering

2013-05-15T10:45:00.001-04:00

After months of wondering, waiting, and worrying, waiting and worrying and testing poop, and, after a traumatic (for me, not for him) combined colonoscopy, endoscopy, and cystoscopy, the results are in. We finally have a better idea of what's going on with Stow.

The good news? Actually we have quite a bit of good news. Stow's gut issues don't appear to be Crohn's or Celiacs. It's also not C-diff. Other good news? He's finally gaining weight--4 pounds in 6 weeks after gaining zero pounds over the previous five months--and he's catching up in other ways, too. He's starting to talk (finally) and even putting together some simple sentences. His gross motor delay is hardly noticeable, especially when he's scaling furniture and wrestling his older siblings. He's still got some delays and sensory issues, but compared to a year ago, he's a totally different kid. Of course, there's that whole winter-failure-to-thrive thing that seems to happen for Stow from late October to early March each year when he stops gaining weight and fails to develop (we're still trying to figure this out), but where we are now, in mid-May, is a pretty good place to be.

The bad news? We may have figured out the source of Stow's malabsorption and generally crazy diapers: He has a sesame allergy. "So what?" you ask, "How many toddlers eat sesame anyway?" And, in a way, you're right. Most toddlers don't eat a lot of sesame. Our toddler is not like most, though. He loves Japanese food, and more of it has sesame in it than you might think. Ironically, avoiding sesame may prove to be more difficult than removing milk and gluten and staying away from peanuts. The only thing that would be harder (and I KNOW I'm jiinxing myself here) would be a soy allergy. While sesame hides in a lot of Japanese dishes as seasoning, soy is everywhere. Miso soup, soy sauce, edamame, tofu, and soy milk are soy regulars in our Japanese repetoire. It's also the substitute of choice for most dairy free products. When a soy allergy shows up, we're screwed.

Now, I'm not naive enough to think sesame is the answer to all of our problems. I'm not totally convinced there isn't something else going on somewhere between Stow's gut and his brain. We have enough clues to support the paranoia that rattles around in the back of my head. And, we still need to figure out the winter lull that seems to happen every year. So I have every intention of proceeding with caution, keeping an eagle's eye on Stow's development (and on his poop). But, for now, at least we have a place to start fiddling. And, you know what? His poop looks better already!

So that's what's up with Stow. Let our experience serve as your PSA: Allergies often don't look like we think they should. We think we will see swollen eyes, itching, runny noses, and tummy aches. But, sometimes what we see are behavioral issues, developmental delays, general poor health, and funny poop. By the third kid, I should know to suspect allergies. Funny how I never learn.

On Being a Mom, Part 2

2013-05-14T08:33:00.000-04:00

So, my Mother's Day post the other day only felt half finished, half finished and totally self-indulgent. Because on every Mother's Day, I'm aware of how lucky I am to be a mom, even though I feel like I do a crappy job most of the time. I'm also aware of how lucky my kids are that, despite the health issues and various crises that seem to come our way, our family is generally in tact. I know so many people who are not nearly as lucky--people who want kids but can't have them, people whose kids have died leaving behind gaping holes in their lives, people who've been abandoned by their moms, people whose moms died way too young. And, so I've always struggled a bit with Mother's Day, for in many ways it feels excessive, exclusionary, and completely unnecessary.

*****

The first time my stepdaughter met my friends, one of them asked Big Sissy, "So, what's it like to have Moe as a mom? Is she more like your sister or is she more like your mom?"

At the time, Big Sissy was probably 13, and she gave the perfect answer to an incredibly insensitive question by a too-curious friend. She said, "I don't know. I've never really had either."

The first few years of our marriage, we lived in Japan. Poor Big Sissy, who was in junior high at the time, had to deal with someone who was obviously not her birth mom, tagging along to various school events. And, while the novelty of her dad's American friend might have been fun when we were just dating, the reality of a non-Japanese stepmom was something else altogether. It marked Big Sissy as different in ways she'd never had to deal with before. It couldn't have been easy, though she never said as much.

When Ren and I dated, if Big Sissy called me anything, she called me by my first name. But our marriage necessitated the need to call me something else. After all, I was part of the family. And, I was always there. Problem is that there really isn't a good word for stepmom. I mean, there are formal terms for such a person, but nothing that works well in daily conversation. I was her father's wife and she was the daughter from another marriage. I suppose the issues are similar in the US, but in our case, it led to a complete inability for Big Sissy to address me as anything but "ne, ne," which translates something like "Hey, you."

For the longest time, I was simply "ne, ne."

Then we moved to the US. At the time, Ren and I'd been married for nearly three years and were still very much struggling to figure out how to be a family. Briefly, Big Sissy considered staying behind to live with her grandmother and finish school in Japan. I may not have done many things right those first few years, but I will always be glad that I managed to convince her she belonged with us.

One of the many unintended consequences of that move was Big Sissy's ability to finally give me a name. Mom. I was never Mama or Okaasan or even Mother or Mommy, but I did finally become Mom. It's not a name either of us use lightly, but it is the name we use.

2013 Mother's Day card from Big Sissy, edited ever-so-slightly

I've written a little in the past about being a stepmom. In my experience, there's nothing that's easy about it. There were days, months, and even years with Big Sissy that felt like a total slog. And yet. And, yet. I know that being a stepmom is probably one of the most important things I've ever done (and maybe will ever do). I also know I can never really be Big Sissy's mom. I mean, I try to fill those holes that the early loss of her birth mom left, but I also know there are some things that just can't quite be fixed.

And, I guess, in a way, that's why I may never wear the title of mom comfortably, not from Big Sissy, not from Sky, Pink P, or Stow. Being a mom is major. None of us deserve the weight of it, nor are most of us prepared for its challenges. I can only always be grateful for the chance to mom these four kids--that and to pray with all my might that I don't totally screw it up.

Sometimes Tests of Moral Fortitude Come Out of Nowhere And Lead to Existential Crises--Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

2013-05-13T09:11:00.001-04:00

On Being a Mom

2013-05-12T10:12:00.002-04:00

Some days, no, most days, I don't feel like I'm a great mom. There are a lot of reasons for this, but one is because I'm not a terribly emotional or touchy-feely person. I'm rational to a fault. I hate sappy. Beaches? Steel Magnolias? Not a tear. Sure, I cry but not at culturally manufactured emotional manipulation.

The image of the mom in American culture is saddled with sappiness (the P&G Olympics commercial comes to mind). And it's not just the hyper-emotionalism surrounding the American love of Mom as ideal, it's also all the pressure on us to do everything right. We should work, but we shouldn't put our kids in daycare. We should breast feed, but we should never, ever nurse in public. We should put our kids in sport, music, and art activities, feed them organic food, and use green household products, but we shouldn't be helicopters. Moms are bound by impossibly contradictory standards. It's all a bit much. And most days, it leaves me feeling ambivalent about being a mom.

But, today, everything seemed just kind of perfect.

Before you get too excited and think I had some sort of Hallmark moment, I didn't. I DID get to sleep until 7:15 and was awakened by neither fighting siblings nor a toddler with a massively leaky diaper. I DIDN'T, however, go to the bathroom without three interruptions or make it through my shower without someone crying. Nor did I get breakfast in bed or out of the house for church without yelling. But I did get these:

This one's from Ren. It's a promise note for an exceedingly expensive diamond ring.

Letter from Sky

Plastic bag o' scraps with doodles from Pink P

And they made me realize that my family is just as weird as I am. Plus, they totally get me. I hope yours gets you, too!

Happy Mother's Day!

Abstract Art, by Pink P

2013-05-09T13:44:00.000-04:00

This is Sky:

This is Pink P:

This is Sky and Pink P:

Do you know who this is?

How about this?

Take a close look, and maybe you will see the resemblance.

Done looking?

Know who it is?

::::::::
::::::::

Give up?

::::::::

You sure?

::::::::

Okay, okay, I'll just tell you:

It's Grandma and Grandpa.

Problem is, I can't decide whether Grandma and Grandpa will be flattered that Pink thought about them and wanted to draw pictures of them or disturbed by her seeming obsession with their wrinkles. ***

***(In case you don't get it, here, I will spell it out. First she drew the pictures, then she wadded them up. Then she unwadded them and handed them to me. "Wrinkles," she said, "for Grandma and Grandpa.")

Wardrobe Swap

2013-05-06T09:14:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I had a chance to swap out the kids' clothes this weekend (which means that the temperature bottomed out and now they have nothing to wear, but that's another story).

Here are a few more shirts. Apologies for the lifeless shots. It's funny, but my kids really don't want to model them for my blog. Trust me, it was a lot easier to spread these out flat and take the pictures.

Straight from the encyclopedia to your shirt. And, nice use of 8th-grade English textbook grammar on the title.

Choco Balls!

Not sure why Pink P doesn't absolutely love this one. Other than the fact that it's not pink, I mean.

This one just kind of speaks for itself.

Qoo -- This is the the one that made Sky no longer want to wear Japanese t-shirts to school. I guess I can see why another first-grade boy might be like WTF?

We don't know why they march. We're just glad they do.

The original t-shirt post is here.

Things My Kids Eat That Yours Probably Don't

2013-05-03T09:02:00.001-04:00

One of the benefits of being a bicultural family is that Sky, Pink, and Stow have been exposed to a wide, some might even say extreme, variety of food. Since Ren is a better cook than I am, and since I basically learned to cook in Japan anyway, nearly all of our dinners and about half of our lunches are Japanese.

I realize may be going out on a limb here, but I am guessing that your kids don't eat some of these Moe Family favorites:

SEAWEED AND SEA KELP

Once we start to introduce table foods, the first favorite foods for all of them was wakame (sea kelp). Ren is convinced it's the perfect food for a growing baby. He may be right. Wakame is low in calories or fat and high in things like calcium, iron, iodine, magnesium, and folate, not to mention several different vitamins. The most common usage of wakame for us is in miso soup.

Dried wakame (before it's reconstituted)

The kids also like good ol' seaweed. It comes in individual packages so they can take it in their lunch and wrap it around their rice balls.

Yummmmmm.

While all of our kids love wakame and seaweed, only Pink P is a "dai-fan" (super fan) of arame. She would eat it every meal if we let her. Between the arame addiction and the princess fetish, I sometimes wonder if she's my kid. But then she stomps her foot and digs her heels in to fight a completely pointless battle about something that's only significant to her, and I realize she's just like me.

Arame--Pink P's Obsession (photo credit: veggieatlas.com)

TOFU

The kids also all totally dig tofu, which is awesome because then we could avoid that whole pureed meat phase when they started eating solids and needed the protein. Meat should never, ever come in a jar. I don't care what anyone tells you. Tofu is high in protein and low in saturated fat. It has been shown to lower cholesterol. Fortunately, no one has turned up allergic to soy yet, though it may just be a matter of time. Oh, and when you buy tofu, organic is best, but if not organic, at least make sure it's non-GMO certified.

Miso soup with tofu and wakame.

ALL KINDS OF FISH EVEN THESE LITTLE BABY ONES

When I first started getting interested in Japan, my mom joked that it'd never last since I absolutely hated fish. Since the Japanese diet is very much fish based, she figured I'd either starve or find another way to spend my time. I hated fish so much, I couldn't even be in the house when it was being cooked.

Fortunately, things have changed. We now eat fish regularly (sorry, Mom!), but not too often (and not when pregnant), just to be on the safe side. Like tofu, you should be aware of where the fish came from before you eat it.

The kids love salmon, but they also seem to indiscriminately love of all things fishy, including this:

Shirasu -- baby sardines (not one of my faves, not by a long shot)

And most of this:

Though no one, I repeat no one, can convince them to eat mushrooms.

NATTO

Two out of three of my kids also love natto, which according to my informal research, is statistically impossible. Families are usually evenly divided over the natto question. Every seventh-grade class I taught during my time in Japan was evenly divided as well. I know this because one of the first grammar points I taught each year was "I like ~~." ("Do you like natto?" "Yes, I do." "No, I don't.") Given the number of times I asked or was asked this question, it's obviously a contentious debate. And yet, and yet, in my family 3 (and possibly 4) out of 5 of us, love natto. I am firmly in the "no" camp, and Stow is still too young to vote--mostly because it's hard to find so we haven't had any in the house since he started eating table food.

Photo credit: seriouseats.com

What is natto, you ask? It's a sticky mess of fermented soy beans that folks usually eat with breakfast, though goodness knows Ren would eat it three meals a day if he could. Fermented = stinky. But actually, it's not the smell that I don't like. It's not even the sticky. It's the fact that when you chew it up, it expands in your mouth. My like/dislike guidelines for food are pretty simple: First, the food must be dead and no longer moving. Second, it shouldn't be chewy (unless it's candy such as licorice, taffy, or chewing gum). Third, if it is a meat, it should not too closely resemble its living form (so no heads or eyeballs, please), and fourth, it should never, ever multiply or expand once I put it in my mouth.

You'd be surprised the number of times one or more of these guidelines has been tested. There was the time the squid tentacle flopped over the edge of the plate and started moving up and down as it made a last-ditch effort to escape. There was the time a guy plucked out the fish's eye and popped it into his mouth just before I could get to it (darn!--and by "darn" I mean "OMG! Did he really just do that?!!?!!!!"). There was the time my mollusk tried to crawl off the teppan** when it started heating up. There was the raw chicken. And, there was the broth full of tiny swimming fish that was harder to eat than it looked.

SUSHI

And, of course, my kids like sushi. The stuff pictured below is one of Ren's creation. If they had their way, Sky would eat kappa maki (cucumber rolls) every day and Pink P, sweet potato rolls. But if you twist their arms, they will eat some of this stuff, too. Stow? Well, Stow eats just about anything.

In the end, it turns out we're lucky that the kids are adventurous eaters. It lets me pack lunches like this:

And it also makes it a tad bit easier to deal with our newly embraced gluten-free, casein-free diet. Not sure what I would have done if they only liked chicken nuggets, pizza, and mac-n-cheese!

**Teppan -- metal griddle used for cooking

I Should Have Been Taking Pictures All Along

2013-05-01T09:25:00.001-04:00

Some people dress their kids to impress, buying expensive name-brand clothes that they quickly outgrow. I tried this with Sky for about six months, and then I realized that my fashion commitments lie elsewhere. Why dress your kid well, when you can dress him ironically?

This will always and forever be my favorite.

Multiple trips to Japan have given me ample opportunity to buy some awesome clothes for the kids. Of course, as soon as I decided to write this post, I realized I can't find half of their cool t-shirts. I'll be switching out the winter and summer clothes soon and promise I'll take more pictures. For now, here's what I've got! (Oh, and apologies in advance for the poor photography skills...)

Might Soy Los Angeles (Look! A soy bean super hero!!)

Little Pigs BBQ -- This one could be for real, but the question is: Why?

Random Keith Haring art.

An almost-but-not-quite grammatically correct advertising for MIKEPOPCORN.

Sometimes the misplacement of a tiny particle makes all the difference.

Saftey Drive 60 Enjoy Holiday

I Like Banana No. 1. Big Banana was Found. (This shirt is awesome because it's super awkward but also very true. There's nothing Stow loves like a big banana.)

Of course, it's not all about making a statement. Over the years, I've also realized that Japanese clothes wash a heck of a lot better than other stuff. They dry quickly. They are lighter weight, pack better, and hold up better from kid to kid. Who knew there'd be a bright side to the Japanese habit of hanging clothes on the line to dry?

Now that my kids are older, they don't always appreciate dressing ironically. Fortunately, they've inherited my off-beat sense of humor, so if I explain what's funny about the shirts, they usually still want to wear them. Unfortunately, some of their classmates like to make fun of things that are different. From seaweed to funny pictures on shirts, some kids just aren't cool about it. Pink refused to take onigiri (rice balls) for awhile because one of the boys said to another, "Ooo, look! There's fish poop on that." Telling them to ignore ignorance doesn't always work, so lately I've been teaching my kids a new response that gets more to the point:

"That's rude. You don't know what you're talking about, so you should stop talking now."

I'll let you know how it goes...

To Love and to Leibster

2013-04-30T14:06:00.000-04:00

First of all, if you see a lot of random font sizing and styles, it's because Blogger is possessed. I tried to fix it, I really did...

Recently, my fellow special needs mom blogger Joy at icansaymama nominated me for a Liebster Award. Joy writes about the ups and downs of figuring out life with a special needs kiddo. If you haven't checked her out, do!

As proof of just how out of touch I am, and how maybe I'm not cut out for fame and fortune in an electronic medium, I had no idea what the Liebster Award was. The Great-and-All-Knowing Interwebs tell me that The Liebster Award is given to up and coming bloggers who have less than [ ] (insert number here--some places say 200 some say 3000, either way, I qualify) followers. Apparently Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome. I don't speak German, so that could be a bold-faced lie. The rules vary widely (something I plan to totally take advantage of), but Joy tells me that I should:

1. Answer 11 questions posed by the blogger bestowing the honor

2. Post 11 random facts about yourself
3. Pass the award along to 11 additional fellow bloggers
4. Pose a set of 11 questions to those bloggers

1. Which is the first song on your playlist? It depends on the day. Lately it's "Good Riddance" by Green Day. Not a bad song for big changes. And, yes, I know I'm old. I teach college kids, so you don't need to remind me.

2. Do you like to shop online or do you prefer to shop "offline"? I like to shop online. Beats shopping with three kids any day. Though, if I am being totally honest, the problem isn't the kids. It's the fact that my spouse looks at every purchase as a potentially life-altering decision that must be approached with the utmost care and consideration. Try dealing with that with three kids in tow.

3. Are you a talented singer? Emphatically, no. At least according to my kids who ~~desperately beg~~ politely ask me to stop.

4. Do you like sports? If so, what do you enjoy watching or doing the most? I like playing sports--basketball and tennis are my favorite though I am much older and slower than I used to be, and I'm pretty sure the college kids in the gym expect me to shake my cane at them at any moment.

5. Who is your favourite actor/actress and why? Hmmmm...Proof again that I am lame and not terribly in touch with that new-fangled moving picture thing.

6. Which is your favourite drink? Diet coke. Sorry.

7. Are you superstitious? Nope. Though when I was a high school athlete we all were.

8. Name something you are really bad at. Anything remotely artistic and balancing the check book (does anyone even do this anymore?).

9. Name something you are really good at. There must be something, but all I can think of is "writing a dissertation," which, face it, is not a terribly transferrable skill. Besides, I'm not actually good at it. I just don't have to do it anymore, which gives me the same warm and fuzzy feeling I used to have when I was actually good at things.

10. What is your favourite thing about blogging? Being able to write creatively and to tell all the stories that have been rattling around in my head.

11. What is your worst habit? See number 6.

And 11 random facts:

1. People often assume I'm part Japanese due to my hair color and affinity for Japanese culture. I'm not, but I purposely took my husband's name to confuse nosy-bodies.

2. I once rode a bike 50 miles through the mountains for pizza.

3. As a kid, I thought my middle name was Lid instead of Lynn. I argued at length with my mom when she tried to correct me. Lid made perfect sense since I loved jelly and jelly had a lid. Lynn was ridiculous. I mean, come on, that doesn't mean anything.

4. I have no idea what I am doing.

5. I once locked my brother and his unsuspecting college roommate in the storage shed in a totally (I swear) unpremeditated act of revenge for the until-that-very-moment-suppressed memory of him locking me in the bathroom 10 years before while he ate my portion of the pizza just outside the door.

6. I'm the youngest of four, which may explain a lot.

7. My husband and I met at a hospital in rural Japan. We were both patients (so don't get all Grey's Anatomy on me).

8. I swore I'd never marry a Japanese man.

9. The first time I went to Japan as a high school student, I was so homesick, I cried everyday. To help me feel "more at home," my host mom woke me up at the crack of dawn, so I could listen to the English lesson on the radio. This did nothing to help my homesickness, but even today, I can remember the key phrase that was repeated on the show each morning: "It's winter now in New Zealand, you know?"

10. I feel very ambivalent about blogging. I mean, I really want you to read my stories, but I'm mortified to think people might actually try to glean practical advice from my posts.

11. I miss bread and ice cream, but since the kids are GFCF, I don't have the heart to eat that stuff (at least not at home).

11 7 Bloggers (that's more than half of 11 and two more than five, which is what the other rules I read said)

Punchdrunkmom

Abstract Lucas
Slimegreen.me

It Takes Wisdom to Know the Difference
Don't Chew on the Dinner Table
Woman on Pause
Ken, In a Tractor

1. What's your favorite TV show?
2. Which app do you wish existed but doesn't?
3. If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?
4. With which cartoon character do you most identify?
5. Which is worse, cooking or cleaning?
6. What's your favorite book?
7. What's your earliest memory?
8. Do you like roller coasters (literally, not figuratively)?
9. Are you good in math?
10. What is your pet peeve?
11. Why do you blog?

Please put a link to your response in the comments! Thanks.

My So-called Existential Crisis

2013-04-27T23:08:00.000-04:00

Over the past 10 days since my last post, I've started and stopped six different entries. Each time, I get about two paragraphs in and then begin to wonder if anyone really cares about the story I'm trying to tell. Part of my blogging existential crisis comes from the fact that I've been sick while also buying a house, trying to get stuff in place for our move, and wrapping up my final semester here. There was also the full moon which turned Sky into a blurting, jumping, emotional mess. That and the fact that I have three super energetic kids who force me to remember my priorities. Always.

But my failure to finish any of my posts is also due to the fact I'm constantly finding blogs of stories more compelling, prose more moving, or readership more enthusiastic than mine. I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean, I didn't start blogging because I wanted to become a famous blogger, but sometimes I wonder what in the world I'm doing. I don't know how else to explain it but to say that sometimes blogging makes me feel like I'm in junior high all over again and that I don't quite know my way.

So, there you have it. Two paragraphs again. Semester ends soon, so after a little bit of sleep, I should be back to form and maybe even able to write more than two paragraphs. In the meantime, if you have any blog post requests, I'm all ears!

In The End, It Was No Big Deal

2013-04-17T10:53:00.000-04:00

On top of wrapping up my last semester at the college where I've been teaching for the past four years, looking for a new house, and trying to establish services and doctors for everyone once we move, we've also been trying to get to the bottom of Stow's ongoing gut issues. Besides recurring bouts of C-diff, he's also experienced "sluggish" growth. You wouldn't really know it by looking at him, but he goes through long stretches of halted or delayed physical and developmental growth. Those usually coincide with back-to-back minor illness that can last for months. We've begun to suspect malabsorption given the on-again-off-again diarrhea and the constantly-bloated tummy.

So, the gastroenterologist and the urologist scheduled a combined colonoscopy, endoscopy, and cystocopy. In other words, the doctors wanted to look at his colon, his stomach, his urethra, and his bladder, and they accessed these points from the nearest available points of entry. Poor Stow.

Fortunately, he had no idea what was coming.

I'd been worried about subjecting Stow to general anesthetic ever since we learned about his possible folate issues, so I consulted with the anesthesiologist several times before having the procedures done. He assured me that research has consistently showed that besides nitrous oxide (a.k.a. laughing gas), limited use of anesthetics has been shown to be safe for children. But, even though I knew everything would probably be fine, it was hard not to worry that somehow Stow would go to sleep for this set of procedures and wake up a different kid. I tried to think about other more cheerful (and admittedly more realistic) scenarios, but I kept coming back to that one.

Our arrival time on the day of the procedure was scheduled for 6:30 a.m., so Ren, Stow and I spent the night in a hotel next to the hospital. That happened to be our anniversary, so we tried to celebrate wth a romantic lunch-with-toddler. If anyone has ever managed a romantic lunch-with-toddler, I'd like to meet them and possibly loan them a kid for a day or two. Then again, who am I kidding? Even without the toddler, lunch would have lacked romance--though it might also have lacked climbing on chairs and scattering crackers on the floor. Of course, Ren would argue that any lunch that includes a waitress, breakable dishes, and a tip is romantic enough for him.

On the way back to our hotel, we stopped at Whole Foods, so I could stock up on gluten-free cereal and Target, so I could buy Stow some shoes that actually fit his feet.

We might possibly be the most romantic couple ever.

This is what happens when I leave Stow in the car with a sleepy, post-romantic-lunch Ren. Self -tattooing = hotel bath. Sigh.

After a fitful night of sleep for all of us, we decided to go to the hospital early. It's a certain kind of guilt you feel when walking your 22-month old into the hospital for some invasive procedures. As far as Stow knew, we were going to the playground, the zoo, the circus. Fortunately, the hospital didn't give us a lot of time to be anxious. Stow was called back right away, and once we changed him into his sweet toddler scrubs, they brought a toy car for him to sit in. While he watched cartoons, the nurse took his vitals and prepped him for his trip to the OR. When it was time to take him back, a nurse came and blew bubbles at him as I pushed him down the hall. I wish I could've gotten a video of Stow rolling down the hall in his cool car, honking at all the doctors and nurses as he drove through a shower of bubbles, but I was too intent on being totally present in those final moments before we reached the double doors that said RESTRICTED ACCESS.

When we did, Ren and I kissed Stow on each cheek and then watched him roll away. With the bubble container in his hands, he happily drove off without even looking back. We got to see him make the turn into the operating room before the automatic doors closed in our faces.

It sucks to worry about your kids' health and to send them off to be poked and prodded beyond your view. But, we know we are so very lucky. We have a lot to deal with, but it's nothing like what Gavin's mom, and Kaishi's mom, and Noah's mom have had to face. When I think about what those moms have had to endure and when I see how bravely they have faced the unendurable, I start to worry that this blog is just an exercise in self-absorption. I hope it's not. I hope people learn from us that we can all muddle through somehow. But more than that, I hope our story teaches people to feel just a little more grateful, to laugh just a little bit more, and to offer those around them just a little more grace.

I'm Pretty Sure That's Not What They Meant

2013-04-15T08:17:00.003-04:00

Sky loves the kids' bulletins from church. They keep him busy and help him process the sermon. But this past Sunday, I think maybe he missed the point.

I could be wrong, though. You be the judge:

Kind of makes you want to be Presbyterian, doesn't it? I mean, look at all the fun we have at church.

I double-checked with Sky about the name of Mrs. Mryc. She is a Mrs. and it is spelled Myrc. I was sure she was a he, what with the cowlick (Sky usually reserves the cowlick for self portraits), the pants and her lack of cleavage--not at all like her BFF (her cousin? her lover?) Ms. Jorji, who has very accurately-depicted breasts. Have any of you ever seen such attention to detail? Not many 8 year-olds remember to properly accentuate the cleavage. I don't know whether to be proud or disturbed. And, really, it's a wonder the kids and I don't get in trouble for talking during church. Sometimes these things take a lot of explanation.

*****

There's a lot more to say about this picture, but I think I will stop and just let Jack, asome kid, cool dude, and flying baby speak for themselves. Oh, and I know I should quit letting my kids write my blog for me. I keep resolving to do that, and then they come up with gems like this one. Can you blame me?

If you'd like to enjoy more of Sky's often inappropriate artwork, follow the label "Illustration by Sky."

The Three Cows

2013-04-12T11:29:00.003-04:00

Well, somehow Sky (age, 8) has convinced his speech therapist to become his creative collaborator. They threw this story together one 45-minute session. I'm not sure there's any great therapeutic benefit to this (you tell me--maybe there is). It DID totally reignited Sky's enthusiasm for speech, so there's that. Hope you enjoy it!

(click on pictures to enlarge_

And Then We Tried on the Pants

2013-04-10T11:23:00.000-04:00

We took the kids on a short "vacation" this weekend. It included a 6-hour drive and several house viewings as well as carry-out sushi (three times), an hour in the hotel pool, and an hour at the park. Come to think of it, our "vacation" kind of stunk, but the kids were good sports about it. They played hard at the park and laughed hard at all the DVDs we brought along for the ride.

Considering our international lifestyle, we haven't really gone anywhere lately. Someone's always getting sick or having back surgery, so this was actually the first longish trip we'd taken since Stow joined our ranks. All things considered, it went pretty well. There was the hour we sat in traffic and the two missed highway tolls (relax, I paid them later, sheesh). There was the time Pink P picked up Stow's pacifier from the restroom floor and plunked it back into his mouth without washing it--ewwwwwwwww--which reminded me of the time I caught her licking the window on the Yamanote-sen train (in Tokyo) and the picnic table in Ueno Park and the handrail at Ikebukuro Station. And, somehow, that made me feel a lot better. And then there was Ren's back going out at just about the same time that Stow figured out he could climb over the side of the pack-n-play.

After that, it went something like this:

put Stow in pack n play
turn around to do something
find Stow in the bathroom trying to turn on the shower
put Stow in pack n play
turn around to do something
find Stow on the bed punching the wrong access code into my iPad disabling it
put Stow in pack n play
turn around to do something
find Stow with the door open and headed for the elevator

You get the idea.

Five people, one room, one incapacitated adult, and one extremely curious one-year old = one very long first day.

The next morning, as we prepared to go on a marathon house hunting tour, I discovered something awesome. Stow's new pants are magical. Okay, maybe not magical, but definitely totally wondrous. See, even though they are plenty big for him, they allow for zero lateral movement. I put Stow in the pack n play, turned around to do something, and turned back around to discover he was still in the pack n play. He stood in the corner desperately trying to lift his leg up and over the top as he'd done the day before. No dice. Every time he lifted his leg, it only made it about halfway before being mysteriously restrained. It. Was. Awesome. I admit it, I had a good laugh as I watched him try to figure out what was going so wrong. He never did. Instead, of crying or getting angry, though, he stoically accepted his plight. And, in that moment, I felt inordinately grateful for two unexpected but very welcome treasures: new toddler pants and zen-like children.

Help This Kid!

2013-04-09T10:20:00.004-04:00

Big Sissy still can't think of a name for her Etsy shop. Can you help? Here are the ones she's considering:

Eat, Sleep, Paint
Daughter in Two Cultures
Different Like You
Kokoro Illustration
Kokoro Watercolor

(Kokoro is a Japanese word that's often translated as "heart" but it also incorporates the idea of one's spirit or soul--in other words, it's not entirely translatable)

She's been thinking about this for days now, and nothing really seems right. I suggested a couple that are in the running, but Ren has been wholly unhelpful. His only contribution has been to tell us that most of the ideas don't "sound right" (hibiki ga yokunai). Do you like one or more of these? Do you have some other ideas? Please leave your suggestions in the comments.

Oh, and she says she likes this picture better than the one I posted yesterday:

Which one do you like better? We may or may not have a friendly wager on this, and you may or may not be able to help us settle it. I like the one without the outlines, but, then again, she and I have never shared the same aesthetic. You should see us trying to shop for clothes together!

And here are a couple of new ones (I'll encourage her to work on her photography skills so she doesn't keep getting the shadow of her camera into the shots).

You can see some of her other stuff in my post "Into the Light."

So, in summary, please help Big Sissy come up with a name for her Etsy shop. Maybe if you're lucky, she'll listen to you. Goodness knows she hardly ever listens to me! :) Oh, and if you like one of those "Different Like You" pictures better than the other, tell us so we can settle our bet!

Different Like You

2013-04-08T09:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, one more Big Sissy creation (actually, there are a lot more, but she's working on an Etsy shop, so I'll let you check those out there). This one is her contribution to Autism Advocacy month. She wanted to use the puzzle design since it's so closely linked to autism in people's consciousness. The motto "Different Like You" came from the many conversations we've had at our house about how all of us are made differently. Some of us need glasses. Some of us have bad backs. Some of us have asthma. Some of us can't eat peanuts. Some of us have brains that see the world in unique ways. We're all different, and we're all different in different ways. If nothing else, I hope our experiences with autism teach all of my kids to show compassion and/or understanding for people who don't quite fit in. And, that they learn to advocate not only for themselves but for those around them in need of a voice.

The fine print: please feel free to share the image and the motto. but also offer credit where credit is due. And, while you're at it, direct people to this blog and/or Big Sissy's Etsy (once we figure out what to call it).

Also, you can see more work by Big Sissy in my blog post "Into the Light."

Into the Light

2013-04-04T23:40:00.000-04:00

When I first entered Big Sissy's life, she was in the fifth grade. People can say all they want about junior high school and the pains of adolescence, but I'm pretty sure fifth and sixth grade are the worst! By the time Big Sissy was in 8th and 9th grade, she almost seemed human again. Of course, it probably didn't help her pre-teen rebelliousness to suddenly have a foreigner tagging around acting the part of her mom, but that's how it went.

By the time I showed up, Big Sissy was 11 and had been covertly drawing manga for years. I suppose she took to hiding her pictures because she got into trouble for drawing them. And, she got into trouble for drawing them because she drew them everywhere all the time. Each and every page of her school textbooks was covered with her illustrations.*** She also doodled on the backs and even the fronts of her homework and in-class assignments (as well as on tests and quizzes). It was as if each and every blank spot of paper was meant to be illustrated. Big Sissy was also famous for spending hours in her room redrawing different scenes from comics she'd read instead of doing her homework. And, of course, she'd quickly shove them into her desk drawer when one of us came near her room. Sometimes the drawer would be so full of "secret" manga that it couldn't be opened.

Those early years of our relationship seemed to be one continuous conversation (debate? argument?) about the proper place and time for art and about the need to bring her talent into the light so she could draw in the pursuit of a greater good. It took years for me to convince Big Sissy that we supported her talent, just not her semi-delinquent approach to it. Later, as she thought about her future and started to plan for college, we talked about the importance of balancing her passion for drawing with being able to support herself.

Recently, Big Sissy started drawing and painting in earnest again. No more textbook doodles or papers crammed into desk drawers! Finally, she's bringing her talent to the light.

So, what do you think?

***Before you judge her too harshly, I should tell you that textbooks in Japan are much different than in the US. They are thin paperback books that you purchase and keep, so Big Sissy wasn't defacing school property, just her own.

Oh, just in case you're thinking about it, don't be a jerk and steal her artwork.

My Two Cents

2013-04-02T08:17:00.002-04:00

As those of us in the autism community already know, April is "Autism Awareness" month. And while I appreciate any and all attempts to educate folks about the challenges of autism, I kind of feel like we're way past the need for "awareness." How about Autism Action month or Autism Advocacy month, instead? After all, according to recent numbers published by the CDC, one in fifty school-aged kids (that's 2% of the school-aged population!) has autism. In other words, we should all be well aware of autism by now because statistically speaking all of us know at least one kid (or adult) with autism.

Wear blue, don't wear blue. Put a bumper sticker on your car, or don't. I don't care, but I'd love it if you could do any of the following things to help a family dealing with autism:

1. Know how lucky you are.

2. Don’t judge parents whose kid is total chaos. Chances are he’s melting down, sensory over-stimulated, failing to communicate, or completely confused by the social cues coming at him from all sides.

3. Don’t be afraid to reach out. Feeling sorry for us really doesn't help. Walking alongside us does. Invite our kids to birthday parties or playdates. Offer to baby sit. Be our friends without reminding us of how hard things can be or how different we might seem.

4. Educate, I mean really educate, yourself about autism (and don’t use the radio, television or movies to do it).* And, while you're at it, resist the urge to tell us about the recent study you heard touting a discovery of the cause for autism (unless of course you've read and analyzed the scientific study yourself). The more you know about autism and the more you really listen to what mainstream media tells you about it, the more incredulous you will become. Trust me on this one.

5. Resist references to Rain Man or that kid from Parenthood. As the saying goes, “If you've met one kid on the autism spectrum, you've met one kid on the autism spectrum." They can all be very different from one another. In fact, one of my greatest shocks post-diagnosis was discovering how little overlap there was between my experiences with Sky and other autism moms' experiences with their own kids. I mean, sure, there are a lot of overarching similarities like a propensity toward meltdowns, the persistent need for structure and order, and the struggles inherent in social situations, but the devil is in the details, and figuring out how to deal with those thousands of quirks that make your kid who he is can be downright exhausting and isolating.

6. Don’t bat an eye when you see a kid who's clearly too old for diapers. Believe me, his mom already knows this.

7. Resist the urge to tell a kid she's too old to chew on a baby toy/ride in a stroller/hold mom’s hand/get carried. This may be the only way the kid can get from point A to point B without everything falling apart. To some kids a trip to Walmart/an amusement park/the mall/a grocery store can be like running the sensory gauntlet without a sword, and as parents, we have to do whatever it takes to get them through it. Telling us we're doing it wrong isn't helpful.

8. Understand that most ASD kids don't "look" autistic (whatever that means).

9. When it's your turn to take snacks, consider making a healthy, dairy and gluten-free, non-processed, and possibly even organic alternative. Many kids on the autism spectrum have stomach issues and, therefore, fairly restricted diets. Food can be a major issue for them. When snack time excludes them, it can compound the sense of "different-ness" they already feel. The parents in Sky's school have been awesome, often bringing a snack just for him and making him feel special instead of weird for not being able to eat what everyone else can. (Plus, since childhood allergies are on the rise, being aware of the food restrictions of your kid's classmates and teammates is a good general strategy anyway)

10. Don't call us tiger moms or dragon moms or warrior moms or refrigerator moms or irrational moms. We're just moms. Sure, our experience is different than yours, but we are not saints or superhuman or somehow sage because of what we go through. Nor are we crazed with a need to know why our kid is autistic. We're mostly just focused on doing what needs to be done. You would be, too, if you had to be.

But, you're lucky that you don't.

* The HBO movie about Temple Grandin (called Temple Grandin) is the exception. You can also see her TED talk or read her book Thinking in Pictures.

And, yes, I know some of this is repeated from an earlier post. I just really want to make sure folks get this message!

Happy Easter!

2013-04-01T10:21:00.002-04:00

Yes, I know I'm a day late, but yesterday was Easter, and I know at least some of you would have given me a hard time for taking time away from my family to post.

I'll deal with the most pressing question first. Pink P wore the shiny pink dress. Did you think she'd choose the flower one? Really? You should all know by now that Pink P will always and forever do the opposite of what I want her to do, at least when it comes to fashion.

The next pressing question, I know, is whether we had any Easter basket-related meltdowns to rival the Valentine's day meltdown. We did not. Of course, this time I managed to get each kid exactly what I knew he or she would like, so there's that. I also put no candy in their baskets, so double score for me!

Operation Easter Bunny: Sky wrote two notes and Pink make the puzzle and drew a picture of the puzzle

Sky was amazed that the Easter Bunny answered his question but more importantly that EB carried his own pencil

What I'm telling you, basically, is that Easter seemed to go off without a hitch.

I managed to remember to make something gluten and dairy free for the kids while also remembering to go grocery shopping for all the ingredients for the egg casserole I planned to make for the adults. This might not sound like much, but I am not known for my homemaking skills, so I'm gonna pat myself on the back just the same.

The kids managed to be pretty well-behaved at church, though I will never understand why they have them all come to the front and face the congregation for the children's sermon. Nor will I comprehend why they also have the nursery attendants bring in all the tiny ones to listen. To my kids' credit, despite the larger than usual crowd, they managed to keep their mouths shut this Sunday (unlike some Sundays when Sky says outlandish things which then reverberate through the sanctuary after he yells them into the microphone). Granted, Pink P started choking on a mint and had to be taken out for water, Stow kept trying to dip his hand into the baptismal (if he grows a couple of more inches, we're in trouble), and Sky kept standing up and swaying as he stared at the lighted candles. So, they weren't inconspicuous but they were quiet, so let me just pretend it went awesome, okay?

The best thing about Easter this year? After we had Easter lunch with my parents, they took Pink and Sky with them to their house for a couple of days. Score! Of course, we still have Stow, so there will be no candlelit dinners for us (Who am I kidding? We all know Ren is about as romantic as a rock and that his idea of an expensive meal is take-out sushi), but I did get to watch some basketball while Stow played contently with his new train and ducks. AND NO ONE SCREAMED OR HIT ANYONE.

Happy Easter, indeed! (Thanks Mom and Dad!!)

Recap? Sure, if You Insist!

2013-03-30T17:30:00.001-04:00

Well, I posted enough this week that some of you actually got behind. So here's a brief recap. (Click on the bold to follow the link.) After a few weeks of highly sporadic posting, I finally got around to telling you guys why I've been distracted in The Dog Ate My Blog Post. It's a pretty good excuse, I promise.

A couple of years ago I wrote an Easter post called You Want to Do What with the Eggs? Back then my only worry was how to introduce Easter traditions to my family. This year we have bigger problems, and in Heaven Help Us I tell you about the epic battle (okay, maybe it's not that epic) to get Pink P to wear an age-appropriate dress for the Easter service.

In May Contain Peanuts I describe what happens when you try to force your black-and-white ASD kid to see shades of grey (no, not the book). Spoiler alert: it's ugly.

Then there was the day Pink P's Catholic school teacher explained why her middle finger was bad. It didn't go well. In Curses Part 2 I tell you how it happened. The more I think about, the more I wonder whether the teacher may be trying to save Pink's soul, what with the misguided pope hat and all.

After a bit of hiatus, Sky returned in rare form in "Things that Make Me Curious and Distracted" by Sky, another illustrated guide for why he does what he does. Something tells me this post by Sky won't be as universally applicable as others have been!

Thanks for reading even when I'm not terribly reliable!

"Things that Make Me Curious and Distracted" by Sky

2013-03-28T11:05:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure I could heart these two pictures by Sky more. I love how he's made it his personal mission to tell the world (or maybe just me, his dad, and his teacher) how he thinks. After all, the MOE family's all about educating others! Of course, the downside--and this is something I've noticed a lot recently--is that he believes that as long as he explains why he does what he does, the rest of us will accommodate his quirks, no questions asked. In other words, Sky thinks that as long as we remember what makes him curious and what makes him distracted, he won't get in trouble when he's being curious and distracted (even if that means, for example, that he completely ignores us and misses dinner). We're still working on the idea that "acculturation" is a two-way process. Who knew my years of work facilitating cross-cultural exchange would be so useful in dealing with a kid on the autism spectrum!?!

CURIOUS

Sky prides himself on being curious. We often use this word to refer to his ability to hyper-focus on some things in order to better understand how they work. I suppose you could be negative and say it's very "autistic" of him to have such highly concentrated interests, but I'm pretty sure those things that make him curious now are one day going to make him a very successful researcher or engineer.

click to enlarge all pictures

I love, love, love the pictures for "how bones stay together"

quite literal, this one

and "how people make paper."

because obviously trees are involved

And, by the way, the color picture of the boy in the "curious" picture is a spitting image of Sky. It's actually a bit uncanny how much it looks like him--particularly the cowlick.

DISTRACTED

Sky's need to distinguish between interesting (curious) things and distracting things kind of fascinates me. Is he making a value judgment between the types of activities he engages in, or does he believe there are certain things in this world, like his baby brother, that will get him off task every single time?

Of course my favorite thing about this picture is that the TV not only keeps him from doing the job he was asked to do, but it also results in him sitting on the head of his sleeping sister.

So, obviously the take away here is that when gears, cars, bath water, toys, televisions, games, bones, trains, crashes, machines, animals, baby brothers, and people making paper are involved, Sky will be otherwise occupied and may sit on his sleeping sister.

But, we should just get over it.

Curses Part 2

2013-03-27T08:07:00.001-04:00

WTF?!?

I realize it's probably not the best idea to start a blog post about cursing with those letters, but WTF?!?

First of all, as soon as I typed WTF, the "Enter" button on my keyboard stopped working, so now I can't start a new paragraph without adding HTML code for spaces and returns. HTML is not my strong point, so this should be interesting.

Ha! So far so good. Take that computer!!

No, wait, I take that back. Now the up, down, left, and right arrows have stopped working, too. Maybe I shouldn't taunt the computer until I finish writing this. After all, this computer is older than Pink P and the equivalent in computer years to a crotchety old man.

Anyway, what I started to say is that today, Pink P came home with a "Red Card Report." I'm sure many of you are familiar with the preschool discipline green, yellow, red card system where kids are supposed to aim for the green, learn from the yellow, and avoid the red. Since she's still in preschool, we try not to put too much emphasis on the school's seemingly hyper focus on the rules. We believe preschool is a time for kids to learn to love school, to play with friends, and to start picking up some pre-kindergarten skills.

Still, from time to time, Pink P finds herself in the red. I'd expect nothing less from a kid who loves to talk, hug, and do whatever she darn well pleases. When she comes home with a red card, I remind her of the "three school promises": 1) follow directions, 2) keep your hands to yourself, and 3) talk to the teacher when there is a situation you don't feel like you can handle on your own. Maybe I should do more, but I can't begin to imagine what that might be.

[Okay, now there's a random black box the size of a pack of Juicy Fruit right in the middle of my screen. Should I be worried?]

Anyway, today Pink came home with a Red Card Report, and it said the following:

"Pink P did not make the right choice today and had to turn his/her card to red. Please talk to your child about appropriate behavior at school and return this signed."

This first part is the standard typed message that comes with every red card. The comments section is what shocked me (Though I guess I shouldn't have been shocked because Pink P had already told me what happened on the way home from school. The shock was that she was telling me the truth because, when I heard it, I couldn't believe it.)

This is what the teacher's comment said: "Pink P gave the middle finger to the older boys in the morning before the 8:00 bell. We discussed that this meant a dirty word and not to do it again."

AYFKM? (Are You F**king Kidding Me?)

Pink P had no idea why she got in trouble. She's five and thinks that "stupid" and "fart" are bad words. Now, thanks to the "vigilance" of the adult on duty in the cafeteria and her teacher, she knows that her middle finger is "bad." And don't even get me started on the teacher's use of the word "dirty" in trying to explain this to her. (How in the heck is she supposed to process that idea?) Aside from the time when Sky accidentally hit upon the words "hell" and "f**k" (which he promptly forgot, thank goodness!--click here for that post), neither kid has a clue about foul language. They really don't. So, when well-meaning teachers point these things out to Sky and Pink, they are teaching them bad words. Seriously, how hard is this to grasp?

When I sat down to talk with Pink about why she got a red card, I simply explained that some people use their middle finger to make people feel bad. Pink promptly held up her index finger and asked, "Is this finger bad?" When I said no, she got an extremely perplexed look on her face. She then worked her way through all the fingers on both hands to make sure she had it straight.

She didn't. Later, when she double checked with me, she thought that only the ring finger on her right hand was "bad," and I had to explain it again.

This is not the first or even the second time that my kids' Catholic school teachers have taught them words or concepts that we purposely avoid at our house. Tomorrow I will talk to Pink P's teacher and ask that they be much more careful about what they introduce to her and that she not be punished for something she can't possibly understand.

Frankly, I'm not sure what else I can do. I mean, seriously, WTF?!?

May Contain Peanuts

2013-03-26T08:15:00.000-04:00

If you know anything about people with Aspergers and high-functioning autism, you know that they often lack the ability to be flexible and to discern the shades of grey that are so common in everyday life. This is something we deal with with Sky. All. The. Time. Most days, it's manageable. I mean, after awhile, you figure out patterns of thought and can head off a meltdown before it reaches DEFCON 1.

Most days.

But, then there are the days when you find yourself trying to sneak in some ambiguity. Those are the days when you can't win.

You will never win. No, really. You won't win, so you should stop trying.

Why tempt fate? Because some days it looks like it might be easier, that's why.

Just like it looks easier to take the short cut through the wet rice paddy. I mean, you can see your house on the other side, why walk all the way around? I'll tell you why. Because you will always lose your shoes. Always. Not only that, you're likely to get stuck and then fall down when trying to pull your legs out. In the end, you'll be lucky if you can free yourself and slop back home covered from head to toe in mud. It always only looks easier. Always.

Today, I tried to take the short cut. Before you start judging, let me tell you why (then you can judge because it was pretty stupid of me). See, ever since we went gluten free, our choices in cereal have become greatly limited. There are two brands of corn flakes at our local grocery store that are gluten and dairy free. One tastes much better than the other. The one that tastes better says "may contain peanuts" on it. Pink P is desperate the eat the "yummy" corn flakes. She asks for them every single day. EVERY day. And every day, I tell her no because of her severe peanut allergy.

Tracking the allergens in food has become easier (and much, much more serious) since Sky learned to read ingredient labels. He reads them obsessively. He finds gluten, milk, and nuts in things I never imagined. He knows that Pink can have food that says "produced in a facility that also handles peanuts" but that she shouldn't have foods that "may contain peanuts." Most days, I am grateful for his complete dedication to this endeavor. But sometimes, sometimes, I really wish I could sneak one past him.

I knew the corn flakes "may contain peanuts," but I also knew that the chances were very, very slim. Plus, I hadn't been shopping, and that was the only box of cereal left in the cupboard.

"Eat fast," I said, pouring a little bit into Pink P's bowl. I could imagine how Sky would react, and I knew we had about 10 minutes before he made his bed, got himself dressed, and came downstairs. Unfortunately, as she's prone to do, Pink P chatted nonstop and was still talking when Sky came into the kitchen. That boy has razor-sharp senses, and before he even made it to the table, he knew.

"Mom, that cereal may contain peanuts. WHY is SHE eating it?" And with that, he lunged toward Pink and tried to grab the bowl of cereal out from under her. I put myself between Sky and Pink, and said in a very calm voice, "It's okay, buddy, I gave it to her. There are no peanuts in the cereal. Sometimes they just write that on the box to be safe."

You guys, there was no way I was going to persuade him. The box said "may contain peanuts." Pink P can't eat things that come from boxes that "may contain peanuts." It was bad enough that she was eating the cereal. Worse was the fact that I had given it to her. There was no way that this could make sense to my black-and-white son. No way.

Sky ended up having a complete meltdown. As I dragged him kicking and screaming to his room, he repeatedly shouted:

MAY CONTAIN PEANUTS!

MAY CONTAIN PEANUTS!!!

MAY CONTAIN PEANUTS!!!!!!!!

By the time I got him to his room and ushered him into his top-bunk safe space, he was screaming, "I KNEW IT! YOU DON'T LIKE ME, YOU DON'T LIKE PINK P, AND YOU DON'T LIKE STOW. YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ALL THREE OF US!" Because, obviously, that made infinitely more sense than mom bending the "may contain peanuts" rule.

I learned my lesson. I promise. I will never, ever, EVER try to bend the rules again.

At least, not when Sky's home.

Image from http://www.animeyume.com

Heaven Help Us

2013-03-25T09:59:00.002-04:00

Easter is coming. You know what that means.

Easter clothes.

I should tell you up front that I have always hated Easter clothes. Always. Dresses and tights. Pastel colors. White shoes. The hat (dear God, the hat). The frilly gloves. Even now I get a little nauseous thinking about those outfits--especially the ones I wore during my awkward pre-teen years!

It seems Pink P and I don't quite feel the same about Easter. She loves Easter clothes. Adores them. So much so that she absolutely must go Easter dress shopping with me. It appears the days of blissfully choosing her clothes are over.

So, on Saturday, we ~~reluctantly and despondently~~ enthusiastically set out to find an Easter dress. At the first store, we made our way through several racks of dresses before Pink P found one that met her high standards. It nearly gave me a panic attack. I mean, look at it:

Why do they even make dresses like this in her size? Are they trying to kill unsuspecting moms like me?

I tried redirecting Pink. "Here's a good one," I said, pulling an admittedly toddler-esque dress off the rack.

Pink would have nothing to do with it. She gave me a slight but clear shake of her head. "Are you sure?" I asked, enthusiastically. "Look, it has flowers!!"

"Uh-uh," she replied, more forcefully this time. Suddenly, I could imagine exactly what her teenage years were going to look like, and it sent chills down my spine.

In the end, we left the store with this one. A good compromise, I thought. Especially since it didn't make my stomach tighten and bring tears to my eyes.

As we walked out of the store, Pink P said, "I want the other dress, the one Grandma showed me." Drat! I was hoping she'd forgotten about that one. "Okay," I said, "We'll go look," thinking, of course, that they'd all be gone. I'd waited long enough to go dress shopping, after all.

I was right. When we got to the second store, they only had a few of the dresses left, and all three of them were in her size. All three. Since Grandma had told Pink it was the perfect dress, I had no choice.

So, for now, we have two dresses and a little less than a week to decide which one will become the dress. Here's hoping I can convince Pink P to love the more conservative one! I know I need to get over it, but I'm just not ready for her to grow up.

Fortunately, some things never change.

What's not to love about matching big brother/toddler shirts and Easter ties?

PS: Look what I found when I was going through the pictures I took for this post. Apparently Stow has figured out how to take pictures of himself. Which reminds me: if you get a random face time request from me, just ignore it. Stow's particularly fond of this feature on my phone. Besides knowing how to work my phone better than I do, Stow has also perfected the art of turning door knobs, scaling baby gates, and standing on counters and tables.

Heaven help us!