Well, the extremely reticent interview subject, and just to be clear I mean the little one wearing red not his chunky counterpart, seems to be enjoying his new found small screen celebrity. He has watched the interview several times, and had to put the video tape (I know, but we don't have a DVR) in a special place before he left for school. We had talked about how some of the people at school saw it on their TV's too, because sometimes things like that can make him hesitant. So he marched to the bus, forward I might add, like he expected them to roll out the red carpet for him.
Here is the link if there is anyone who might want to see our interview, but isn't from our "viewing area." Please be patient because it takes awhile to load.
Click here for the Interview
I have had several new visitors since the piece aired and if you are one of them, please feel free to leave a comment or send me an e-mail from the profile page. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but sometimes it is just nice to be in touch with someone who has asked the same questions.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Great Expectations
Someone asked me recently what I thought I would be doing as a forty-something. Interesting question and, to be honest, the answer is probably that I didn't have any idea. Well, that's not quite the truth. I did hope that I would be married and have children, but beyond that I must admit that I really hadn't developed a roadmap.
I attended a university that has an excellent medical school. The freshman joke was that you didn't ask someone what their major was, instead the question was, "Are you pre-med?" I used to answer that question with the cocky confidence of a college student. No, I was not pre-med, I was an English Literature major—wait it gets better—with a minor in the Humanities and Chinese language. Come back and talk with me after you've attempted Organic Chemistry, I would think to myself because I did not then have the confidence to say it out loud, and we will see what your major is NOW.
I also became accustomed to answering the inevitable question, "What are you going to do with that?" And my reply was always, "Anything I want." I did and still do believe that critical thinking skills and writing ability are important, no matter what career is chosen, but what could possibly have prepared me for this path my life has taken?
My Chinese professor once gave some important advice about life. "Just do SOMETHING," he told me, not wanting me to be complacent. Good advice that I think Nike later may have streamlined into the "Just Do It" ad campaign. I have tried to take that advice to heart, but is there a college degree that could have prepared me for the day David was diagnosed with autism? Is there anything that can prepare a parent for that day? (Rhetorical questions, people, the answer to which is NO.)
And as for my great expectations for my life--did I think that I might be a writer? Yes. Did I expect to be writing about the challenges, but also the surprising rewards of raising a special needs child? No. Did I think that life would be perfect? Maybe, but I have certainly realized that almost everyone has challenges to overcome. Do I still have great expectations? The answer, for David, for our older son, Andrew, and for our family as a whole, a definite YES.
I attended a university that has an excellent medical school. The freshman joke was that you didn't ask someone what their major was, instead the question was, "Are you pre-med?" I used to answer that question with the cocky confidence of a college student. No, I was not pre-med, I was an English Literature major—wait it gets better—with a minor in the Humanities and Chinese language. Come back and talk with me after you've attempted Organic Chemistry, I would think to myself because I did not then have the confidence to say it out loud, and we will see what your major is NOW.
I also became accustomed to answering the inevitable question, "What are you going to do with that?" And my reply was always, "Anything I want." I did and still do believe that critical thinking skills and writing ability are important, no matter what career is chosen, but what could possibly have prepared me for this path my life has taken?
My Chinese professor once gave some important advice about life. "Just do SOMETHING," he told me, not wanting me to be complacent. Good advice that I think Nike later may have streamlined into the "Just Do It" ad campaign. I have tried to take that advice to heart, but is there a college degree that could have prepared me for the day David was diagnosed with autism? Is there anything that can prepare a parent for that day? (Rhetorical questions, people, the answer to which is NO.)
And as for my great expectations for my life--did I think that I might be a writer? Yes. Did I expect to be writing about the challenges, but also the surprising rewards of raising a special needs child? No. Did I think that life would be perfect? Maybe, but I have certainly realized that almost everyone has challenges to overcome. Do I still have great expectations? The answer, for David, for our older son, Andrew, and for our family as a whole, a definite YES.
Wordless Wednesday – The Quicker Picker-Upper
I sometimes wonder why we buy toys for David when he can find such amusement in ordinary items. A trip to Costco can yield a jackpot. Here is a picture that David took of one of his favorites.
The possibilities, of course, are endless and can stretch vertically
or horizontally.
The possibilities, of course, are endless and can stretch vertically
or horizontally.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
What Time Is It?
David is a clock watcher. Several times each hour, he will peer around the corner into the kitchen, scanning the clocks to see what time it is. Often he will prompt one of us to ask, "What time is it, David?"
We have an obscene number of clocks in the kitchen by the time you include the clock on the intercom, microwave, stove, CD player and then, of course, the clock that hangs above the sink which, for the moment, I am going to discount because it is not a digital clock and I do not think David can read it. And I say I do not think he can read it, because he often surprises me with new skills like yesterday, for instance, as we were driving home from school. I could hear him repeating a phrase under his breath, but it took me a moment to realize that he was saying, "One dollar equals four quarters, equals ten dimes, equals twenty nickels, equals one hundred pennies."
It probably really irritates David that our clocks never read the same time, especially since the clock on the intercom is always about seven minutes slow. And I think it is one of the mysteries of the universe that we can reset that clock, only to have it lose seven minutes almost immediately and then seem to be able to keep perfect time minus seven. Two of the clocks normally correspond with each other, however, so that is the time David relies on. He especially loves to announce the time on the hour, although instead of three o'clock he would say that it is "three year-o year-o."
So last night David rounds the corner to the kitchen, eyes gleaming and looks at the clock. "What time is it, David?" I asked as I glanced at the clock, confident the answer would be "seven year-o three." But this time his answer was different. "Time to go get ice cream," he announced, smiling. And if it hadn't been three degrees outside, we probably would have made a quick trip to the Dairy Queen.
We have an obscene number of clocks in the kitchen by the time you include the clock on the intercom, microwave, stove, CD player and then, of course, the clock that hangs above the sink which, for the moment, I am going to discount because it is not a digital clock and I do not think David can read it. And I say I do not think he can read it, because he often surprises me with new skills like yesterday, for instance, as we were driving home from school. I could hear him repeating a phrase under his breath, but it took me a moment to realize that he was saying, "One dollar equals four quarters, equals ten dimes, equals twenty nickels, equals one hundred pennies."
It probably really irritates David that our clocks never read the same time, especially since the clock on the intercom is always about seven minutes slow. And I think it is one of the mysteries of the universe that we can reset that clock, only to have it lose seven minutes almost immediately and then seem to be able to keep perfect time minus seven. Two of the clocks normally correspond with each other, however, so that is the time David relies on. He especially loves to announce the time on the hour, although instead of three o'clock he would say that it is "three year-o year-o."
So last night David rounds the corner to the kitchen, eyes gleaming and looks at the clock. "What time is it, David?" I asked as I glanced at the clock, confident the answer would be "seven year-o three." But this time his answer was different. "Time to go get ice cream," he announced, smiling. And if it hadn't been three degrees outside, we probably would have made a quick trip to the Dairy Queen.
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