tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82736424648202724652024-03-13T08:57:39.263-05:00Butterfly Momentsfinding humor and happiness in our family's adventure with autismKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.comBlogger221125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-25552550978029018742013-04-08T19:12:00.000-05:002013-04-08T19:12:59.657-05:00There is a SeasonSometimes when David wants something, he will feed me the line, expecting me to repeat it back to him so that he can more easily make his wants known.
Actually, I have not determined what makes this method easier for David, but it has become a common occurrence in our house.
David, while handing the iPad to me: What do you want to type?
Me: David, what do you want ME to type?
David, with Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-69852786075107704522013-04-02T20:54:00.000-05:002013-04-02T20:54:21.718-05:00Spring has Sprung
The sun is shining. The temperature finally hit 60 degrees, if
even for an instant. Easter was Sunday,
which, of course marked the unofficial beginning of white shoe season.
Except that I do not like
white shoes. I do not own any white shoes. I don’t think I have worn white shoes since
they were paired with a bonnet and made of patent leather.
No wait. I never Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-74053729631240988392013-03-24T20:46:00.000-05:002013-03-24T20:49:03.812-05:00An Idiom is BornPeople with autism often
have difficulty with idioms.
Although he has come a
long way, David's language has not developed to the point where I had even
given a thought to David's interpretation of idioms.
Until today, when I had a
few familiar idioms pop into my mind after I rounded the corner into the
kitchen and saw David.
Stop and smell the roses.
A watched pot Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-1728002770037313652013-03-22T09:59:00.003-05:002013-03-22T10:02:17.355-05:00Sick DayI heard it for the first time early Saturday morning. David was coughing and not the shallow "let's see if I can get out of going to school today" cough, but a cough with some congestion behind it. Of course, next came the runny nose plus what my husband grossly but accurately terms "snot rockets" and it was official. David was sick.
This week is Spring Break and David has the wholeKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-26681269092499352152013-03-19T13:50:00.000-05:002013-03-19T19:32:48.318-05:00Savoring the (not quite) SilenceIdeally, I would have
stretched and been slow to open my eyes, savoring that last delicious moment,
the one just between sleeping and waking, aware of having had a long,
luxurious, late Sunday afternoon nap.
Instead, my eyes popped
open the moment my consciousness registered the muffled phrase that I heard
David calling,
Wait…Wait…Don’t Go!
That utterance woke me, combined
with the vague Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-69327020939147983492013-03-13T21:26:00.001-05:002013-03-13T21:35:01.239-05:00In Praise of PepperoniI was late for work this morning.
I was late for work this morning, because I was
digging in the 18 gallon blue Rubbermaid bin marked "garage sale."
I was digging in the garage sale bin looking for
the Pizza Pile-Up game because recently David asked for it, scaled the shelves
in the basement looking for it, and then he cried about it last night when he
realized it was missing.
The Pizza Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-29012277665573590762013-03-08T20:22:00.000-06:002013-03-08T20:24:01.406-06:00On school conferences and sunsetsUnable to concentrate on
my book, I sat in the parking lot and watched as the sun dipped below the
horizon with the utmost economy, saving its brilliant splendor for another day
and a more mindful audience, leaving behind only a few faint streaks of orange
in the haze.
My mind found comfort in
the rhythm that came from the tires of passing cars crossing the seams in the
street—Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-90697521355249655032012-11-30T12:41:00.001-06:002012-11-30T12:41:56.278-06:00Variations on a Common ThemeI must confess that I was smiling as I watched. If it had been Andrew’s birthday, I would have scolded him for his behavior. I would have been apologetic.
But with David, everyone was amused as we watched him rip greedily into a package, tearing just enough of the wrapping paper to reveal whether or not it was the coveted Hot Wheels Color Shifters Car Wash playset and then casting it aside Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-60618324767909645362012-11-05T20:32:00.000-06:002012-11-05T20:32:32.739-06:00There's a New Sheriff in Town
It
is well documented that my soon to be 16-year-old nephew, Thomas, is a favorite
jungle gym, tackling dummy, sparring partner and all around fun guy to soon to
be 8-year old David.
You
will please note that I did not mention authority figure on that list.
Saturday
was Thomas' first night babysitting for us, a job normally reserved for his
sister, Katie, who is almost halfwayKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-90064557866618843292012-11-02T21:13:00.000-05:002012-11-02T21:13:15.734-05:00Sympathetic Words
Just
about the time that I begin to think I have one too many things on my plate, I
do something really talented like fling myself out my front door and onto the
concrete of the porch.
I
am not even sure how it happened, but I was carrying a window screen
that was dusty and needed to be cleaned.
The boys were playing basketball on the driveway, so I must have looked
up at precisely the Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-62919624806013249412012-11-01T21:13:00.001-05:002012-11-01T21:13:54.716-05:00Getting my Exercise
Somehow, when I click the "publish" button, I never imagine that it will be days, weeks, or in some cases months before I publish another post.
For me, it seems that writing is like exercising or having a healthy diet. I feel better when I do it, but if I get out of the habit, it is easy to put it off just another day. I sometimes wonder what difference it really makes if I ever type Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-2310999297219535232012-09-20T11:24:00.000-05:002012-09-20T11:24:40.063-05:00Published Again
I
am, once again, a published author.
But
this time, there will be no mention on the New York Times list of notable
books. There will be no royalty
checks.
Oh
wait; I didn’t have those things last time, either.
And
since I actually served as ghostwriter, I will not even receive credit as the
author, which is a shame really, because the prose is gripping—if I do say so
Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-26086153382345551082012-09-18T13:33:00.000-05:002012-09-18T15:19:20.814-05:00A Beautiful SunsetThe next morning, the meteorologist
tried to explain why it had been such a beautiful sunset.
And I guess I shouldn't
say that he "tried" to explain, as I am sure he did explain it
thoroughly.
But my enjoyment of that
sunset had really nothing to do with the light reflecting off of the cirrus
clouds and everything to do with the fact that we were driving home from the
Open House at David's Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-38831113411059067902012-09-13T14:59:00.000-05:002012-09-13T15:05:07.175-05:00Crying over Broken DishesWhen I opened the door to
the upper cabinet, it took a split second for me to register the crash that
followed. I was startled, of course, and
started examining my hands and arms to see if there were more than just a few
teeny cuts from the resulting shards of glass.
Earlier this summer I had
bought a large, low, white porcelain bowl to hold tomatoes from our garden on
the counter until weKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-83755002412254339212012-09-07T14:59:00.000-05:002012-09-07T15:15:09.474-05:00The Road to RecoveryI am finally getting over
my illness.
I am not talking about the
third week of school nastiness that the boys always bring home, this year
appearing in the form of a fever/cough/cold combination that wipes you out for
a couple of days. I am still battling
the tail end of that one.
Instead, I am happy to
report that I have FINALLY recovered from what I will refer to as DDD,Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-27314092792966020412012-09-04T18:35:00.000-05:002012-09-04T18:43:47.621-05:00A Butterfly MomentA few minutes ago, I watched as David stretched up onto his tiptoes and took a big slurpy drink straight from the faucet at the kitchen sink, a scene that is repeated countless times across the country on a hot, late summer day.
It was a first for David, a milestone--like so many others--that does not appear on the pediatrician's checklist. One that I did not even realize we had Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-74241397529871891832012-08-30T13:44:00.000-05:002012-08-30T13:44:05.094-05:00School Discipline
Although I cannot
specifically find the reference in the 2012-2013 Elementary Student Code of
Conduct that prohibits a student from borrowing exactly three hash browns from
another student’s lunch tray in order to line them up vertically in a perfect
pretend stoplight, I am sure it is in there somewhere.
I almost feel bad making
light of the situation, because when David came home from school Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-68019174176200708612012-08-22T15:31:00.000-05:002012-08-22T15:31:02.519-05:00The Second DayCharles Dickens published
most of his novels as serial publications, in weekly or monthly
installments.
When I selected the name
for yesterday’s post, “The First Day,” I was being somewhat lazy and in no way
intended to imply that I would write a post called "The Second Day.” And when I hit the “publish” button at 4:07
p.m. I really had made the mistake of breathing an apparently Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-11541370219273784692012-08-21T16:07:00.000-05:002012-08-21T16:07:29.361-05:00The First DayI need to remember to add
saltine crackers to the school supply list.
Some families have really fun
first day of school traditions—maybe they make a special breakfast or have an
ice cream cone on the way home. Some
parents take photos of their kids holding a sign to commemorate the first day
in each grade, or mark their child’s height inside a door frame.
But our family? Well, we Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-42498428518802527492012-08-19T10:04:00.001-05:002012-08-19T10:04:28.886-05:00Photographing Bridge Ten
David had been asking for
a picture of “bridge ten,” his favorite interstate overpass. Yes, he has a favorite interstate
overpass. Doesn’t everyone?
So last weekend, Michael grabbed
the camera and decided to take David for a drive to try to get the desired
photo. David insisted on taking my
iPhone so that he could videotape the whole drive in a 14 minute long video documentaryKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-13627329196348816462012-08-17T21:53:00.001-05:002012-08-17T21:53:35.565-05:00Back to School...Almost
I am not usually
embarrassed by David. It’s not that he
doesn’t do embarrassing things—what kid doesn’t?—but I try not to let it bother
me. I have gotten to the age where I
don’t care what other people think. (Did
that sound convincing?)
But last night was a
different story.
We took David to “back to
school night.” And by “took,” I mean we
literally dragged him into theKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-84733740781367465372012-08-15T17:38:00.000-05:002012-08-16T09:21:10.987-05:00A View from the GardenThe boys start school in
less than one week, on the 20th. I work
on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. For
those of you doing the math that means, this week I had only two more real days
of summer—two more days to sleep in, without setting the alarm.
So, what time did you
suppose David decided to get up yesterday—Tuesday—a non-work day? He first appeared in my room at 5:24
a.m.&Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-79006117383403525442012-08-13T16:42:00.000-05:002012-08-13T16:47:48.651-05:00Security Measures
It takes David a long time
to warm up to new people.
It takes David an even longer
time to accept new kids.
And even after David has decided
that maybe, just maybe he can tolerate having a new friend around, the fact that
David may lock the door to the house as his friend is walking up the sidewalk, or that he
isn't too excited about sharing anything—even space in the same room—or
Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-21393356161524872252012-08-09T18:35:00.000-05:002012-08-09T18:35:10.669-05:00Gaga for GogglesOn Tuesday, we went to the
“pool with a beach” and before you quickly scroll down, looking for the
pictures of sandy white beaches, puffy clouds and gleaming sun—hold on.
We use the term “beach”
pretty liberally. In our part of the country,
beaches are non-existent, but the health club that we belong to has both an
indoor and an outdoor pool. David uses
the term “pool with a beach” Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8273642464820272465.post-89042868882124585232012-08-06T11:31:00.002-05:002012-08-06T11:31:56.515-05:00Fashion by SpongeBobYesterday, I took David to
Target.
For those of you who may
not have a child who feels compelled to open every single door in the frozen
food aisle, or who must wait in the airlock between the two sets of automatic
doors until both are closed for at least five seconds before proceeding into
the store, or who may very occasionally attempt to shoplift a garden cart, you
probably do not understandKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00109875815749585734noreply@blogger.com2