Domestic Psychology

Halloween gets tricky

// October 30th, 2009 // 4 Comments » // holidays, parenting, teenagers

What is the Halloween version of the Grinch? Me. Well, if you ask my teenagers, it’s me. Tommy hasn’t gone trick or treating for years, but suddenly he has started mumbling that trick or treating sounds like fun. It’s only mumbling though. He is happy with the long-standing deal that when you stop trick or treating, mom treats you with a bag of candy.

Sarah didn’t go out for the past two years because of school. This year, Halloween is on a Saturday and she is adamant that she will be trick or treating with her 17-y-o boyfriend. I am equally determined that my child who is old enough to work and drive is too old to knock on doors to beg for candy.

Noah is still my baby, but he is taller than me and he has a Gomez Addams mustache. The people handing out treats at Boo at the Zoo visibly disapproved of Noah’s trick or treating and he was scolded by one of them. I suggested to Noah that he is a good age to transition to Mom’s treat bag. Now, he walks around looking at me like I took Christmas away from him.

So, I have less than 24 hours to pull a rabbit out of my hat to make everyone happy. That hat looks mighty empty right now. It looks like this is going to be the year that mom ruined Halloween. Sometimes, being a mom is no fun at all.

Dr. Barghouti & Baltzer on The Daily Show

// October 29th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // people, politics, television

Watching Dr. Barghouti and Anna Baltzer on The Daily Show could have been informative and insightful. Instead, it was awkward. Not only did Anna Baltzer not get to contribute to the interview, she looked a like a decorative prop. Instead of the pairing looking like an Israeli and Palestinian working together, it looked like they picked an attractive American willing to sit beside Dr. Barghouti. You can find an American to support anything. There’s probably a pro-Cannibalism group in America. To have a talk show speaking tour partner sit silently and smile even when the audience is rude reeks of manipulation. This pairing just diminished the story that Ms. Baltzer has to tell. Let Ms. Baltzer back on the show without Dr. Barghouti. Dr. Barghouti should have been accompanied by an Israeli citizen.

Then, an appeal came from Reddit for people to send in letters of support. Support for what? Ms. Baltzer didn’t get to share her experiences and describe her goals. She looked subservient. Support for Dr. Barghouti? He spoke, but his words were not convincing for or against his ideas. Support for The Daily Show? The Daily Show will do as well with this odd episode as it will with the interviews that are funny or clever. The Reddit appeal on top of this uncomfortable guest interview is insincere.

The Daily Show needs to try again. Maybe with guests who have as much sympathy for Israelis as they have for Palestinians.

Random TV thoughts

// October 29th, 2009 // No Comments » // television

Heroes: When good guys work together, they’re the Justice League. Bad guys together? Carnies.

Monk: Closure storyline checked off for Captain Stottlemeyer, Randy and Sharona. Natalie should be next. I really like the way the series is not quick fixing or forcing happily ever after, but putting in place the possibility for a better future.

House: Still hating where the characters are going this season. Have the writers forgotten that the characters used to be flawed, but likable?

running into a wall

// October 28th, 2009 // No Comments » // aspergers, parenting, school

While I don’t question that Tommy was ready to leave high school when he graduated, I am now firmly convinced that he needed something after graduation and before any attempts at college. He needed a year of being taught “how” to be a student. Because of the Asperger lenses that filter his view of life, Tommy thinks that just showing up for class is enough. It worked in high school. He has forgotten the teacher and aide who constantly hovered over him and nudged him about doing assignments. He has forgotten his family sitting at the table with him for hours and hours to get projects completed. All he remembers is showing up for class and absorbing enough to stumble his way through tests.

He can’t keep track of assignments and due dates. He misses small details in class discussions that turn out to be vitally important. He doesn’t feel an urgency to get assignments completed. He doesn’t feel any urgency at all. He just shows up. There is no drive, no interest and no connection. What he lacks in motivation, he makes up for in anxiety. The blank disinterest in exhibiting any desire to do well doesn’t begin to hide the stress and misery he is experiencing. My pushing him to try harder is part of his misery.

Other Aspie parents have already experienced this. Some reacted by deciding to take one single college class a semester until they find success. Some reacted by putting college aside and focusing on employment. Some reacted by going on a quest to find the special interest that sparks a fire inside their child. We all want the same thing. We want our extremely bright children to be happy, functional adults. Unfortunately, that which makes them happy, hinders their opportunities to be successful.

I don’t want to keep fighting college with a child who is content with C’s and hope that something will eventually interest him enough to ignite his engines. I am equally unwilling to let him settle in at his current level of immaturity. Sometimes, it all feels pointless. After I am gone, nobody will push him to step out of his comfort zone and interact with the world. So, I search. I search for a new path. The longer I stand still, the deeper I sink into a hole that will slow down Tommy’s journey. Now, how do we get past this brick wall?

that’s not gray, it’s highlights

// October 25th, 2009 // 7 Comments » // humor, me, people

Setting – Frozen rat store
A couple who appeared to be about 50, stood discussing pets with Doug and I. Doug mentioned that all of our pets are good with our children. The man in the other couple asked the ages of our children. Doug replied that our children range from four to nineteen. The man looked at me and said with a straight and sincere face, “You have a 40-year-old child?” My jaw fell on the floor. As I crawled around on the floor to retrieve my jaw from underneath the shelves, Doug literally ran to the other side of the store to laugh like a hyena. The woman in the other couple smacked the man on the head. “Does she look like she has a 40-year-old child?” He looked at her with big, innocent eyes. “I can’t tell any more.” I stumbled off to find Doug. “We’re going to the store and buy hair color today.” He didn’t even try his usual penny-pinching speech about how nice I would look with completely gray hair. He just nodded silently.

Setting – Generic grocery store
For Doug’s birthday, he treated himself to something he has looked at a million times, but never purchased. He assembled his own 6-pack of beer. Since I don’t drink beer, I offered helpful advice, like, “That label looks fun” and “The shape of that bottle is interesting.” He eventually made his selections and we went to the checkout. We put our tiny basket of items down and waited for the total. The checker asked for my ID. I told her she’d have to use Doug’s, because mine was in the car. She got all flustered and said she was REQUIRED to check the ID of everyone buying beer. “I’m not buying beer. He is.” Doug handed her his license. She continued to argue that she HAD to have my license. Doug tried reasoning with her much more calmly than I have ever witnessed him behave in the face of frustrating stupidity. She typed Doug’s birth date in and turned back to me. “Well, I guess you can just tell me your birth date.” Odds of us ever buying beer from the store with the world’s dimmest checker ever again? Slim to none.

Happy Birthday Doug!

// October 24th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // Doug, flickr

I am not a threat to inventors

// October 23rd, 2009 // No Comments » // home, life

Remember when I said I need metallic dental floss and a bathroom trash can made of metal so that the used floss makes it in the can instead of everywhere else? Add band-aid wrappers to the list of things that should be metallic. I find those tiny, static-prone papers everywhere except the trash can.

Other fantasy items that would be useful:
household rotating front door with a vacuum vent underneath
single use toothpaste dispensers
stacked instead of rolled toilet tissue
metallic legos
playground surface floors for homes
cars for teen drivers made by Little Tikes

Doug says:

// October 22nd, 2009 // No Comments » // Doug, me, movies

Me: “You remember wonderinging where they filmed when we were watching The Holy Grail?”
Doug: “The Holy Grail? I remember wondering where something was filmed, but I don’t remember what it was.”
Me: “It was Holy Grail. You asked where they filmed it.”
Doug: “Noooo. I think it was Planet of the Apes.”
Me: “Are you sure? I thought you asked where Holy Grail was filmed.”
Doug: “Nope. It was definitely Planet of the Apes.”
Me: <- sigh ->
Doug: “Go ahead and tell me. You know you have to say it.”
Me: “No. It doesn’t matter now.”
Doug: “Come on. Let it out.”
Me: “Scotland. And they used the same castle for every location.”
Doug: “Feel better now?”
Me: “No. I have to look up Marky Mark AND Charlton Heston.”

Random Monty Python thoughts

// October 21st, 2009 // 3 Comments » // movies, people, television

I’ve been watching the IFC’s Almost the Truth series all week. Except for the throwaway bits from non-Python comedians expressing their love for all things Monty Python, the series is raw, fascinating and occasionally painful. Two things about it feel like splinters in my funny bone. First, one of the cast members appears unrepentantly homophobic. Second, none of the men seem to have any love for each other. When you work with a group of people, you whine and moan about the person who makes the office smell like burnt popcorn. Everyone grumbles about the boss who cares more about TPS reports than clients. No matter how much you complain, you still care about your co-workers. When they have a crisis, you donate your vacation time and bake casseroles. The Python cast having no feelings of friendship or compassion for each other is cold, cruel and unfunny. I just don’t understand that.

bedtime routines

// October 20th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // preschoolers, sleep

When Evan graduated out of the crib, he made it abundantly clear that without a cage to contain him, he was not going to remain still long enough to fall asleep. Every night since then, someone gets in the teeny bed with Evan and snuggles up next to him until Evan is asleep. Usually, the bedtime assistant has to say “Shhh” a few times. Sometimes, the bedtime assistant has to ask Evan to quit kicking the wall. Occasionally, the bedtime assistant has to drape an arm over Evan as if they are a bed harness. More often than not, the assistant just remains completely still and silent while hoping that Evan falls asleep before the assistant nods off. If the assistant falls asleep before Evan, game over. Evan wins.

Yes, I know that Evan should have learned to stay in bed and fall asleep on his own by now. Honestly, it is just not a battle worth fighting. As long as Evan falls asleep by 8 pm, life is good. Usually, the bedtime assistant job alternates between Sarah and Noah. They are able to get Evan to sleep in about ten minutes and rarely have a problem. When they aren’t home, Doug and I take turns. Doug usually nods off and sleeps for an hour. When it’s my turn, I alternate between my mind racing with all the things I should be doing and accidentally falling asleep.

Last night, I was Evan’s bedtime assistant simply because everyone else was out of the house. Well, not everyone. Amy was at home. Before I tucked Evan in bed, I told Amy her choices were cleaning her room and reading in bed. Once I was nestled beside Evan, I had to remain completely still and quiet. Noise and movement just charge Evan’s batteries and it takes him even longer to relax and sleep. Listening to the rhythm of Evan’s breathing, I knew that he was faking sleep and plotting his escape. I didn’t dare move. Then, I heard it. The sound of Amy singing songs that only she knows, crept under the door and I tried to ignore it. Then, the songs got louder and sillier. Evan started humming his own little happy song. I tried telepathically asking Amy to sing quietly, but of course, that didn’t work. Evan’s feet started tapping. I made a long, slow “shhhh” that sounded like a leaky beach ball compared to Amy’s singing. Slooooowly, Evan’s body relaxed, his breathing slowed and he fell deep asleep.

I tip-toed out of the room and stomped in Amy’s room. Before I could even get my hand on my hips in the lecture pose, Amy looked up from her toys and smiled at me. My heart melted into a pile of useless goo and I smiled back. Happy songs > Sleep