For hire: Bright quirky Aspie jokester prodigy and perky silly Mom team of comics for immediate hire, limited bookings. Late Night is our forte'. Call today.
With G's idiosyncratic lens and my wacky creative slant, G and I make an odd yet symbiotic stand-up team. At least we crack ourselves up. ;) G makes up puns, jokes, witticisms constantly. Since he was low verbal in his tot/preschool years, he worked his humor skills for kudos. I've always used humor as positive intervention. For me, inward->outward.
Occasionally now, he'll make his entrance meekishly. This is my cue to "edit" the joke he's trying to form.
Example
Scene: G building snowman, 20 feet away, highly-charged post school.
G: What did one book say to another book on a hot day?
Me: ?
G: It's feeling quite "summary" in here
I laughed, then took out my tiny mental red crayon to push his idea. I suggested to G the joke would be funnier would if it weren't 2 books, but something directly related to "summary".
I explained him also that because it was a spelling joke, it performs better in written form.
He pondered.
G Edited, 1st try, 60 seconds. Lightning fast for his verbal processing issues...
G: What did the back cover of a book say to the front cover on a hot day?
Me: ?
G: It's feeling quite "summary" back here.
Bravo, kiddo! His joke now makes sense and stands alone without the spelling...a thinker.
Humor to me is defined by thinking outside of the box. Taking a mundane idea and cranking the sublime. Logic -> Illogical. This we do with great flourish and joy in our home. If I go 15 minutes without laughing, at least internally, it's a rare and tragic event. What a delightful gift my coping skill has been.
G takes the ovation though. Through humor, he has broken his verbal barrier, perfected his physical humor through family antics and years of summer-long drama camp. His developing language, processing, logic and social skills converged when he jumped headfirst into using language science as a means to use humor towards social goals. Comedy enhances all of his goals.
Communication. Physical/Expessive Skills. Social Skills. Logic. Laughs.
That's all.
What else matters? 7 years ago I would've fainted if I'd known G would travel so far within and outside his skirmish of acronyms, a lucky few. I'm thankful for all that he is.
As abovementioned, I live to laugh. Works for PerkyMama! Bravo G, thanks family. Together we make it snappy!
On order at our library: Front cover, back cover including "summary". ;)
Carb Crave CSI Catastrophe, location of Swedish Fish stash comprimised. Asperger's/OCD, check.
Swimming wiggling Swedish Fish out in the frigid air. ADHD, check.
Sharky devouring of schools of them. ASD oral carb crave smashing sensory, check.
Ceaselessly citing fish facts. ASD + OCD, check.
Teasing the dog out the window with said fish. OCD, check.
Getting his stim on. ASD, check.
Sputtering "hello" to neighbor on command through gummy red hot mess. Sensory ick, check.
Forgetting gloves. ADD, check.
Being so overloaded he can't verbalize his need. Anxiety, check.
Using his eyes to guide me to his gloves. Tools, check.
Flagging down the driver who missed him. Tools in high gear, check.
Ready for school? Yikes!
Dear kind laughing neighbor, amazingly cool bus driver, G's busmates, schoolmates, Awesome Au-some teacher extraordinaire, and my G:
You rock! Breakfast dessert of champions, not. Blame me. I made my choice in our morning panic (while smiling, asking neighbor about their newborn, wishing I wasn't wearing my teen's ski hat). G hunted out my sugar stash and chomped away (really only about 3, Chewy = slow BONUS!)
"ASD Eyes", our parental ASD filtering system, see all.
Sometimes we must pick our fish to fry. :/ Better to send G off with a happy flappy Swedish Fishface than an angry frustrated Stinkface.
Good Luck! ♡
Love,
De-fish-ent ASD Parent
w/sense of humor
P.S. New neighbor, welcome to the hood! You're in for an education by default. :)
Leaving a friend's home today, G stood looking out the door, fully geared from ankles up while we searched high and low for his socks which he inevitably always peels off. We finally gave up the hunt and told him to put his boots on without socks, which he also does 50% time in his haste.
"Nah, I'm fine!" G was out the door in a flash. Minus socks. Minus boots. Running/jumping into the Michigan snow/ice. We all simultaneously bolted and called him in.
Eek!
Tonight after all others were nestled in slumber and we had time to discuss it, I asked G why he ran out barefoot this morning.
"I just wanted to."
Did he forget he didn't have shoes on?
"I just wanted to."
Was he trying to make us laugh?
"I just wanted to."
Were you trying to freak us out?
"I just wanted to."
I sighed.
Exasperated, "What? So you just decided you wanted to feel the snow or something?
"YES! I just wanted to!"
Kerplunk! Hit me over the head with a brick! Way to really listen with your ASD ears, Mama! S E N S O R Y
G is a sensory seeker naturally; sensory avoider notasmuch. His impulsive sensory seeking isn't logical, planned. It's just: GO!
Snow=Go
No stops between.
I forget at times, fooled by G's high functioning, highly verbal, bright mind. He has incredible focus at school, thanks to ADHD meds and much therapy over 7 years since age 2. He excels and is gifted with a stellar memory. His interests, vocabulary, demeanor when speaking in his "reporting mode" is remarkably mature.
Yet...his sensory impulses are too difficult to control. Similar to a preschooler, his wildcard behavior is perplexing; at such polar odds with the logical practical mind G has.
I marvel at the dichotomy that ASD demonstrates daily.
I told G that when he grows up and gets a job, please don't stop at the door on the way to lunch one day, take off his shoes and go running in the snow. He understands the humor.
Then again, maybe we all need an icy plunge to put a zing in our footsteps. Sensory Seeking = Curiosity. Zest. Joy.
Pretty great stuff. If we could skip/regulate the dangerous impulses, I'm in.
Not. Just. Another Manic Panic Monday.
Transition to reality. Sigh. Groan. Screech! Most weeks, school routine/schedule gets off to a rocky start for our ASD kiddos. G frets about Monday all day Sunday, often Saturday.
G had a wonderful start and a perfect transition this Monday.
I'm learning: plenty of sleep, prep* and enough time to dance, sing and laugh. G loves to mimic Pitbull's "Fireball", just the one word, sung in raspy low key. Love it! I love to "wigglewigglewigglewiggle" while of course, wiggling.
:D
*Shout out to Big Broski for helping Mom's Manic Panic Monday. My neatnik laid out all of G's school prep items. Wowza! My kids rock my world! I'm blessed!
Dear Santa,
I would like a puppy named Cookie. And that's it.
Love, G December 2013
Santa Mama delivered. ;)
What a difference our first pet has made! "Cookie Dough" brings us together through laughter, snuggles and play. G taught her the joys of jacuzzi baths and long showers. Now whenever any 5 of us in the fam turns on the tub, she comes scratching her way in within seconds. She adores water! G also taught her to swim in our pool last summer, patiently guiding her around the pool the way we taught each of our kiddos. Sweet! He adores her! Why did we ever wait so long?
Welcome Autism Hacks!
I'm kicking off a new series part of my New Year's resolution to lighten spirits, bring giggles, joy to ASD Social Media.
Share your quirks:
Submit photos, stories, ideas and I'll whip up a meme with creds. :)
patticakeb2002@yahoo.com
Welcome Autism Hacks!
I'm kicking off a new series part of my New Year's resolution to lighten spirits, bring giggles, joy to ASD Social Media.
Share your quirks:
Submit photos, stories, ideas and I'll whip up a meme with creds. :)
patticakeb2002@yahoo.com
"Look Mom, God's sprinkling fairy dust on our world!"
I loved G's poetic observation, until he broke out in, "Do you want to build a snowman?...", loud enough to make our sweet pup howl.
Yes, even 9 year old boys are afflicted with Frozen Mania. It's going to be a long Michigan winter. ;)
Welcome Autism Hacks!
I'm kicking off a new series part of my New Year's resolution to lighten spirits, bring giggles, joy to ASD Social Media. Share your quirks:
Submit photos, stories, ideas and I'll whip up a meme with creds. :)
patticakeb2002@yahoo.com
"My weiner is bugging me!" G, groping and adjusting at the bus stop.
"Yeah, me too," I laughed.
"No, you don't have a weiner!"
...pause
"Wait, what's your weiner called again?"
"Do you remember?"
...pause
"China something... Oh, MyChina!"
MyChina
I think the stars represent erroneous zones
Teehee. That'll work for now.
Coincidentally, I've been thinking about MyChina for the past few days. G was born 8 years ago today. Happy Birthday, Super G! After 10 years of every imaginable hellish fertility agent, weepy false hopes and heartbreaking near successes, 2 beautiful beloved adopted babies, I became pregnant. Who knew MyChina actually "worked" as nature intended it! And work it did for 3 days until this very day 8 years ago. Our 3rd miracle baby was born and we welcomed him into our family. We thought we were whole, but he completed us by bouncing into our lives and never stopping. He's our breath of fresh air, our lessons to be learned, our wonder and delight.
Bus stop ruminations. G keeps losing his gloves, so I've been trying to give him strategies on keeping them. This morning I told him that when I was young, I was told to put my gloves inside my hat and stuff the hat in my coat sleeve. I demonstrated with his gloves.
G: "Oh, like Abraham Lincoln and his hat!"
"What?" Mystified Mom.
G reported his knowledge,
"Abraham Lincoln used to store important papers in his hat."
"Oh really? Like what?"
"Oh probably important things like volcano eruption warnings and things like that."
Lol. Of course I explained and discussed the reality.
This is a typical conversation with my G. He holds these random facts in his magnificent mind, and blends them with his own interests. His memory cache is outstanding. It's the comprehension/application that gets wonky. Is this behavior a verbal or language processing error, as he often mixes up words or definitions? Is it anxiety-based obsessive thinking? Or is it simply a typical 7 year old imaginative thought process? It's likely a combination, G style. Whatever it is, it worries me in turn. I worry about my own "G anxiety-driven" anxiety. LOL. I fear for his anxious little psyche. I wonder what else he's worrying about. I know that he thinks and frets much more than he relays to me. Often he'll tell me weeks, months or even years later about his worries from a certain time or incident. Many so insignificant that I can't recall the event, but have obviously tormented him. I remind him to share his fears with me or another caregiver when he's scared RIGHT AWAY so we can help. I work on my calming strategies. I try to remain peaceful and not over-react when his queries get far-fetched. I try not to laugh, though stopping his siblings and peers from giggling or poking fun is a challenge. These questions are legitimate horrors for him. He gets hurt and upset when we laugh or don't take him seriously. He closes down when I get alarmed and react.
The results of his odd ruminations range from funny - whimsical; distressing - bizarre. G's OCD weighs him down with a fixation for natural disasters. He constantly asks if tornadoes are coming, earthquakes, hurricanes, etc. When we travel somewhere, he anxiously asks if tornadoes happen there. Then asks again. And again, foreboding on. I don't dare watch or listen to weather alerts with him in earshot. Today's "Doppler 6 Gazillion" and sensational reporting sends the common public into a flurry of emergency angst. G with his propensity for extreme "fight or flight" response, spirals into full panic attack if he sees ANYTHING ominous on the weather map, even clear across the country. He sees the arrows and knows weather travels. If he sees a news report on a tree uprooted from a wind storm, he stays up at night nervous that one of the huge trees in the backyard will crash through our roof and kill one of us. I dread days when his reading bag is filled with natural disaster readers and picture books, knowing he's destined for a stormy sleepless night of distress that will echo for days. He's written many stories in his school writing journal about natural disaster heebie-jeebies. I so wish I could ease his mind more than I do. I fear if I connect him with a website or app with stats on disaster realities, it may backfire only to further amplify his apprehension.
So, what to do? I calmly explain the reality. I shelter him as best I can from triggers. I worry about his worry. I re-direct him back to saving what he has control over: his gloves! This is all I know how to do for now.
Just keep swimming...
...and hope there's no hurricane predictions.
As an aside, I came across these books while searching for a volcano image for this post. "My Mouth is a Volcano" is a picture book is about learning manners related to interrupting. I was excited to bump into a book in which interrupting is explained in a visceral, visual way that just may resonate with G and other spectrum kids. Volcano Mouth Etiquette 101. Plus a handy activity workbook! The problem I have is, what if G gets too tied up in the "volcano" aspect and begins his cycle of whirling tornado worry? We'll see. The reviews are excellent. I'm going to check our library. Have you read it?
Got helpful suggestions? I'm always up for been there - done that help.
Making lunches this morning...
I told G to find a piece of candy or 2 for a treat to put in his lunchbox.
"Oh, probably only 1, I don't want too much sugar. It's not healthy."
G, pointing up excitedly, "Look what the spiders left us for Halloween!"
You just keep right on believing that, kiddo.
I'll dust after Halloween. :)
G: Mom, my pumpkin looks like Van Gogh!
I'm a bit horrified that they learn about this mad act in 2nd grade. Is that knowledge really necessary to appreciate Van Gogh's work through the eyes of a 7 year old?
I found G taking a sensory break, watching tv in a hamper. Green's his favorite color, what could be better? He scooted around the house for an hour like this.
411. Information please. Do other parents find themselves researching acronyms at every possible moment? The library was my second home as an only child growing up. I've always been curious. But now I fear I may have an addiction problem.
Hello. My name is Perky and I'm addicted to Google. I have no intention of quitting, but I thought I should announce it. Call it my public service action towards Google Addiction Awareness.
My friends and family suspect that I have an addiction to Facebook. Ha! That doesn't even scratch the surface. Oh, the autism facts my hard drive history could tell...
I take breaks from researching my latest alphabet soup issue (ASD, ADHD, OCD, SPD, etc.) to scour Facebook for breaking news on my key topics. Laws, therapies, meds, op-eds, technology breakthroughs, visual aids, strategy, coping, opportunities, forums, groups. I mark my calendar and set alarms for local parent and family events, podcasts, blogcasts, online discussions, conferences, support groups. I sit down to search one item and find my head whirling hours later with no clear solution. I'm faced with multiple possibilities and little time to put them in cohesive order, let alone an action plan.
Do we have too much information at our fingertips? Today's searches by the numbers:
I used to stay awake at night, struggling to put the information to work. Debunk, sort, prioritize, fit into my complex family life. Now that G's sleep is more regulated and his bedtime earlier, my body and brain collapse each night as if rejoicing after the years of brief interrupted sleep. I may be more rested, but I don't have the balance time of sifting through my daily research that I used to. Before, I'd be so worked up from G's late night energy surges and meltdowns that I'd research myself into exhaustion, then toss and fret myself to sleep for a couple hours. These days, I just crumble and pass out at midnight.
I justify my addiction. As autism parents, we're isolated in our oddity. Our disordered kids don't have neatly stacked symptoms and phases. Our kids often carry multiple acronyms in their diagnosis file, each adding complexity to their struggle. We don't have the luxury of calling a friend to compare notes and share parenting strategies. Our kids are individually wrapped with unique challenges and gifts. Rarely do we find a friend offline who's working on the same solution. We're left to seek out our lone epiphanies. When we do call another autism parent, their child may be in major meltdown or manic state, interrupting an enlightening conversation. We have other children to tend to, jobs, household and personal endeavors, sleep to catch up on if we're lucky.
Support groups are wonderful. Even if we don't get a chance to voice our concerns, we can offer hope and tips to other struggling parents. It gives us a lift to be able to guide or comfort another in our Lonely Hearts Club. But then at times our own issues pale by comparison. How can I bring up my frustration of my son's nose picking problem when the last bruised mom sobbed about her child's violent outbursts? This can work both ways: we may feel relieved that we're not currently in that horrific phase, yet still frustrated that we didn't share our own troubles.
The answer: we return home to google the quirks out of our own daily acronym-ism. We search for answers from fleeting e-relationships with peeps the world over who are dealing or have dealt with the same concern. We give virtual hugs. We friend them on Facebook if we've encountered each other in the same rocking boat multiple times. We invite them to like our pages or blogs as if we're inviting them to coffee. Come over to my blog, read awhile. Would you like cream and sugar? We seek community. We seek acceptance. We seek validation.
I seek, you seek. We all seek for nice speak.
We take a break to see what our typical friends are up to. We wistfully sigh. We die a little inside. We throw up a little in our mouth. We share their joy, humor, triumph, love. We wish for them to never ever personally know the challenges we conquer. We wish for them the maturity, beauty, delights, warmth and human perspective that autism/special needs can bring to a home. We share happy photos, searching for the one in 238 pics where our kid has eye contact, no drool, no nose-wiped sleeves, no stains, possibly a natural smile. We celebrate our other kids a little too often. We post jokes and memes a bit too intensely, attempting to cheer ourselves as well our friends. Sally forth!
Then we return to our dear research. There's no expert on your child...except you.
Dear Google.
I love you a google and a peck. Indefinitely. Not gonna stop. Gotta get my fix. Must get my Google on.
