Zit-ra, otherwise known as she who has blemishes

I have a zit.

Two of them actually and those bad boys are NOT going anywhere.  Now blemishes are typically not life-stopping events but when someone in your family has autism ... it CAN put a kink in your day.

We had a 2-hour delay for school today.  So I opted to go all out for breakfast.  We had eggs, sausage ... and hey, I even made cinnamon toast.  So naturally I was hoping we might have a leisurely breakfast (and this is where you say, "hope all you want sistah cause it ain't happening.")  Youngest was running around like his feet were on fire, singing "delays are good, delays are kind" and Little Dude was just staring at me.

Or more specifically, my zit.

"You have a bump.  Is that just extra skin cells or what exactly is going on in there?"

and then the worst comment of all,

"Are there germs in there?"

OK, those of you, reading are probably saying, "What? Why is THAT the worst comment?"  It is because Little Dude is a germ-a-phobe.  This is usually where I launch into a gigantic medical explaination (that I've Googled as soon as the subject of germs comes up) of what IS a (fill in the germ-filled item) and how it won't hurt him.

Today.  (sigh) Today I was cranky so I touched my zit and then rubbed his head shouting "Ooooh, germy, germs germs."  In other words, the mature route.

He stared at me for a moment ... and then giggled.

Maybe he's growing up.
Not so much me tho.

That's No Moon, It's a Space Station

I just had a "discussion" with my son.  OK, I'm going to admit it  (to borrow a phrase from Rants from Mommyland) I lost my schmitt.  There MAY have been a bit of crankiness involved.

Here's where the frustration arose, Little Dude has the tendency to ask me the same questions over and over (and OVER) again.  He will finish his food and I will tell him to put his dishes by the sink.  "In the sink or by the sink?" he will ask.  "How many jellybeans can I have as a treat?" or "Do I need to brush my teeth?" or "Where should I put my shoes?"  The list goes on.

Tonight, I lost it.  I felt like he wasn't listening.

He ran to his room crying. 

When I finally got him to talk to me, he explained.  "I ask questions because I want to be absolutely certain what you want.  When you are piloting a ship to the moon, you need to make sure that your calculations are correct or you will slingshot into the moon or hit another spaceship."

That stopped me.

Aside from thinking that we watch WAAAAAAAY too much science fiction television and being amazed that he is only ten; he's right.  I'd rather have Little Dude be my pilot, any day, any time.

I've always been annoyed by the need of both my "boys" to be right.   It never occurred to me that his annoying need to check and recheck information wasn't a weakness in him, but just the way his brain works.  It will probably serve him well in his job as an adult.

I'm just going to have dig deep (really REALLY deep) into the stores of my patience.  Because for Little Dude, it IS Rocket Science.

Don't Get Mad If I Take You Down

I'm going to admit it ... I'm hiding here in the dining room, spying. I'm listening to my boys interact with their guests. OK, I'm going to be COMPLETELY honest here and say that I'm really just listening to one kid interact.

Yep, I'm worried about little dude.

We're having a play-date with a family that (dun-dun-DUN) doesn't KNOW about little dude's struggles with others. They don't know that he's you know (whispering) ON the spectrum. It's not that I care what they think. I don't. I'm worried that Little Dude's feelings will get hurt when they tell him that he's "weird" (someone has said that) or "stupid" (someone has said that too) or "kind of like an octopus, and he just can't keep his hands to himself" (an ADULT actually said that).

My son is nine. He cries when he gets frustrated, hits if he feels intimidated, does NOT have an inside voice and struggles to play well with others. But my son is also one of the sweetest boys I have met, is frighteningly intuitive about what people think and has an incredibly high IQ.

I see his struggles with others and I totally want to build a bubble around him to protect him. I have this overwhelming (and yes, damn it, irrational) need to protect him from stupid people. Yes, that's right. I'm calling some people stupid.

Listen. We are all different. We look different, we learn differently and some of us can't understand about personal space and the unwritten rules of society. No biggie. A simple reminder is fine; calling someone else weird or stupid is not.

And keep in mind that the pissed off parents of special kids get a special "buy" for using the "s" word.

Just sayin'

Rethinking the name of this blog ...

because tonight I'm feeling kinda broken AND beaten.

So you all know that I have the big D, Diabestest disease in the whole world. But what you may not know is that we deal with not one CHRONIC disease in this family, but two.

Little dude has Autism (so does the big dude so I suppose technically, we have 3 chronic diseases although 2 are the same.) Yep, we're a whole family of broken people. We are sooo not the Brady bunch! Wow, though I would pay money to see that sit-com.

And to be absolutely specific, Little Dude has PDD-NOS (wha? you are probably saying) That is he has Pervasive Developmental Disorder—Not Otherwise Specified. (PDD-NOS) is on the autism spectrum and is often referred to as atypical autism. Probably more information than you needed to have.

How it presents itself is with OCD, Anxiety, Dyslexia, and ADHD-like behavior (did I mention OCD and Anxiety?). And as much as I love Little Dude ... it is tiring and overwhelming sometimes. Given that I am already tired and overwhelmed by my OWN chronic disease ... Houston we have a problem.

Right now we are struggling with a side affect of one of his meds. Specifically the medicine gives him the trots. This is not a great complication for a kid who already obsesses over germs and cleanliness. So in addition to cleaning up his messes, and encouraging him to put lotion on his red, raw hands, I spend much of my day explaining how his immune system works and why it's not really germs that are making him sick.

Thankfully, we see his doctor on Wednesday.

All I can think of is the slogan, "Better Living Through Pharmacology" and I'm thinking, better for whom?