A for effort

Frances: I am an ARTISTE, not someone who is capable of “making friends”.

On why she shouldn’t have to go to her social group (which she did, in fact, attend — her cultural status and sensibilities notwithstanding.)

Nice try, tho’.

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Keeping it real

Frances: Mummy, do you know what I want for my birthday?

Me: What do you want for your birthday?

Her: Cold. Hard. Cash.

J. Alfred Proof-rock

I’ve mentioned this fact before: when she was two, almost three, Frances would ask me to read to her at bedtime whatever I happened to be reading for myself at that time.

Thinking she might fall asleep faster if I read the Aeneid by Virgil — because I, myself, would — I started the epic poem. To my utter surprise, she enjoyed it. My plan really wasn’t working.

So, then, I thought about T.S. Eliot and started reading The Waste Land. I moved on from there to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. In doing so, I began a nightly routine that lasted for several years.

It has been a long time since I last read Prufrock to her, but she clearly still remembers it as, the other day, she quipped, “Where’s the proof-rock? Get it, Mum?” She giggled and giggled.

She has a wonderful sense of humour that, I think, won’t be appreciated by everyone. I doubt that the children in her class have heard of T.S. Eliot yet.

Happy New Year!

I haven’t written anything in this new year mostly because — at some point in 2017 — my life became insanely busy.

Pink Cup Sister, who has a learning disability and a social anxiety disorder, now has the symptoms of a severe tic disorder. This disorder includes vocal, phonic, and motor tics, the latter of which pose such safety hazards as uncontrollable self-injury and episodes occurring where falling is a possibility.

Unfortunately, I have uncovered a health concern of my own as well involving my vision/optic nerves.

Now, Frances and I have always had an amply full schedule of appointments that has kept me very busy; with the added appointments of Pink Cup Sister and of myself, well, let’s just say that appointments are now my full-time job.

But that’s okay — it means that things are getting taken care of, challenges are being identified and overcome, and matters are being addressed in general.

And, fortunately, amid all the worrying and the hurrying, there are some moments that catch you off guard, ones that leave you breathless and utterly aware of how much there is to appreciate.

Perhaps you won’t be surprised to learn that it is often my children who gift me with these moments; in the case of Frances, the gift is often in the form of questions that allow me a glimpse of how amazing her brain is.

The other day, while I was taking her to school, the following:

Her: Did you ever realize that, if everyone just followed the rules, there would be no drama in the world?

Me: You are SO right!

We then, giggling, ran through the zebra crossing while stepping only on the black stripes, just because, and I felt light and giddy and free of concerns about the year ahead in that moment.

Worth a try

Frances: I think people are getting bored of me talking about horses at school.

Me: You’ve got to let others talk about themselves.

Frances: I let Sally talk about her guinea pigs, but it was so boring.

Me: You have to let yourself be a little bored, and then others won’t mind being a little bored when you speak of horses.

Frances: Okay.

I wanted to include this conversation, which happened before school, because I think I’ve found another way to reach Frances. (Also, it illustrates a difficulty that children with ASD may experience.)

I’ve heard professionals advise Frances to do a “social fake” where the child pretends to be interested in what someone else is saying. It doesn’t work with Frances. She doesn’t believe that her conversations about horses aren’t always riveting to others. So, I tried another approach by asking her to be bored for a few minutes.

By letting her know that others feel a little bored sometimes just as she does, she may start to realize when people don’t want her to speak and interaction could go more smoothly.

It’s just a thought. I’ll let you know if it does, or if it doesn’t, work.

Over the edge

Frances has a very dry sense of humour that appears at really funny times.

For example, every weekend, she and I have a sleepover: we usually camp out in a fort in the living room, watch a movie and eat popcorn.

Recently, my bed was the site of the sleepover, and I found myself often teetering on the edge about to fall off because she kept moving closer and pushing me. I even fell over once.

When I mentioned this to Frances, she simply said, β€œWell, they say if you love something, you should let it go.”

So, she was letting me go over the edge?

πŸ˜‚