Raindrops and storms

My sweet kid is at school today. The kindy farm, a collection of poor benighted lambs and the odd shitstained calf, is coming to visit the preschool. Louis is not altogether happy about this. I left him and Nigel to work out their strategy. This is a happy new occurrance. Nigel seems to help Louis through some tough anxious moments, by being there when Mummy can't. So, Nigel is going to stay at preschool today and "watch Louis". Good old Nigel. According to Louis, Nigel will also give him the nod when it is appropriate to turn into a T-Rex and roar at the farm animals. Another exercise in keeping him safe apparently. Poor bloody animals.

I warned his teachers this morning to keep him back from the pen, just in case he starts roaring madly and frightening the little animals. They know my boy well, those teachers. One just looked at me and laughed and said "I don't think we need to worry about Louis coming too close to the animals". I guess, these are the people that hold him in a death grip to calm him down when the fireman comes to visit the preschool, as my son freaks out about the possibility of the siren being turned on.

On the way to preschool though, something lovely happened. Louis was telling me about his plans to be a T-Rex and I reminded him that he has scheduled times to be a dinosaur and the rest of the time he must be Louis (don't ask - I never thought I was have to comfort my son as he keens and wails because he can't "be a theropod").

So Louis was quiet for a second and said "I am a really good T-Rex". I said "And you are a fantastic Louis". Quiet again and he piped up "I like being Louis". Awwwww. How wonderful is that! and it gets better....he then asked "Do you like being, Mummy?". I nearly crashed into a tree at this point. I made some comment about liking myself when I am not a raging irritable bitch - PG version of course. But I am so thrilled about that kind of progress. To think about asking me that question indicates he is aware that I have thoughts and feelings. Well, I might be reaching a little high there. He didn't listen to my answer, as he was giggling and rocking side to side in his seat, while he fondled a fluffy dinosaur. This is often the way it is with Louis. He starts echoing the appropriate phrases and imitating questions, well before he actually understands the concepts, feeling and intentions behind them. But, it is a damn good start.

Another car drive moment occurred last weekend. The three of us were heading up the coast to visit my mother-in-law. It had been raining a lot that previous week and Louis was anxious as a result. It is weird. It is not as if he doesn't like rain, he just doesn't like the anticipation of rain. Anyway, hubs and I were fielding multiple, repetitive questions regarding the odds of future precipitation and throwing desperate looks at each other as we mentally calculated the length of the journey and how excruciating it will be if the same questions were asked for its entirety. I know, I know, that we should shut him down by finishing the subject and ignoring- and we often do - when he is in a repetitive question mode but it gets a bit hairy to do that in the car sometime. Anyway, all of a sudden Louis falls into a silent contemplation. His little face gazed out of the window for a good 20 minutes. Then he said "Mummy, does one raindrop make a storm?" What a great fucking question! So deep! So intriguing! So thoughtful! I told him it was a great question and said no it didn't.

Of course at this point Louis said "Mummy, does two raindrops make a storm?, Mummy does three raindrops make a storm? Mummy does four raindrops make a storm?" Oi vey.

Anyway, it was deep and philosophical and I think it should be embroidered on a pillow. ONE RAINDROP DOES NOT MAKE A STORM. Words to live by my friends.

Okay I will leave you with a funny one that occured between my husband and Louis. It was a couple of weekends ago and I was painting (remember? Keep up people! It looks fab by the way). Hubs was trying to rev Louis up to get him to leave the house with him and go to the park, so I could paint. Louis was, as usual, reticent to leave the house. Hubs excitedly said "Louis, we are going to have HEAPS of fun". Louis looked up with concerned eyes and replied "Only a little bit for me, please".

My kid rocks. No two ways about it.

Nigel Marven

See that dude?

He now lives in our house. I feed him. I have to buckle him into the car. I have to SLEEP with him.

He is Louis' imaginary friend.

A new development indeed in our wee household.

Now given the literal bent of autism, it may not surprise you that Louis' imaginary friend actually exists.

I introduce to you.....Nigel Marven - paleontologist. Well, he is in a shitload of dinosaur shows that Louis watches anyway.

I mentioned that Louis lives and breathes dinosaurs right? To the point of absolute saturation.

From the moment he wakes up to the moment he sleeps, all he talks about, cares about, scripts about are dinosaurs. He has a funny little stim he does with his fingers that he looks out of the corners of his eyes at, that apparently are "running velociraptors".

So anyway, Nigel has made a big impression in our household. Louis is often found mumbling away sotto voce to him. I am not privy to these conversations. Given that they are sure to involve scripting one of Nigel's docos, I certainly don't give a shit. In fact, I am pretty thankful that someone else has to listen to this stuff for a while.

However, there is a unforeseen problem. Nigel is driving a wedge between me and husband. If he aint cutting his grass, he is certainly firing up the mower. You see, Louis is insisting that Nigel sleep with me. Sure this may be platonic in a wee four-year-old's mind, but the night's are long my friend. How long am I supposed to resist the temptations of an aging British paleontologist?

Actually, I think you are quite safe hubs.

So Nige may be making a few appearances in this blog. He has been a great source of hilarity for me and husband already.

Talk sooner rather than later. Thanks for the love guys. Feeling it and feeling better xx.

Way to slippery mortal coil

So there was going to be a post about our trip to the mountains.

A cheerful departure from the grey fog of my mood.

But then I had to hold my dear, beautiful, faithful darling 15-year-old cat, as he was put to sleep.

And then I cried.

Will update if status changes. :(

Doldrumish

I have had a bit of a break from blogging. It is not as if life stopped throwing up blogworthy moments, I just have been feeling a bit adrift and I haven't been able to put it into words.

I know I have experienced these feeling before, but as each period of difficulty piles up on the ones before, it feels as if I am knocked around just that little more.

I may not even post this up.

I have ye olde chronic depression. Like in long term. Back from as long as I can remember. I have been on medication for it forever. I don't have many qualms about taking antidepressants because frankly without them I cannot function. I have done and do CBT techniques, meditation, writing etc etc. And yet I can still so easily be flattened by a rolling tsunami of mood swings, that appear out of nowhere.

I guess that is where I have been. Grabbing at the flotsam and holding my breath until I can get my head above water again.

I am not writing this post for sympathy. Please, that gives me the squinks. I just need to acknowledge it every now and then. Because I tend to pretend it isn't happening and I hide behind brittle humour while the core starts crumbling.

Consider it acknowledged. I have a post in the making about a funny little lad, who we took on a day trip to the mountains yesterday. Back soon then....buck up! It's not all so bad!

Intermission

I have lost my writing mojo. It will be back. If there is one thing I know for sure, nothing is permanent in this life. We shift and change. The most peace comes with rolling with life's own rhythm.
Right now I am painting the entire insides of the house. I am enjoying it. I am obsessional and this is a nice way of getting a result from obsession.
Still reading everyone else's blogs. Good work guys!! See you soon.

Patchwork Kitty

And here we are.
Yes, I have photo evidence.
May I proudly present........
My cat's undercarriage -



Her name is Frances. She is a princess. She has a problem. There is no shame in this. It is simply nerves and stress from being so beautiful, refined and glamorous amongst a household of dirty, profane commoners.

Frances is actually married to a strapping chap by the name of Sir Rupert Cossington Bathingswaite VC BSC and Bar. Rupert is often away on missions, to keep our country safe from invading forces and so Frances remains at my house. She often gazes out the window as she tends to her needlepoint, dreaming of those long romantic outings they took together in the two seater. Rupert, is a military man it is true. It is a hard life for a military wife. I often note a tear in her eye, as she gazes heavenward. It is not unusual for the odd biplane to dip its wings, as it soars overhead, in deference to her Lady Frances.

Lady Frances has a dear friend, Lady Amanda Soames. Lady Amanda got herself in a spot of trouble recently, with a wickedly handsome chap from Kenya. Lady Frances has stood firmly by her side throughout the scandal. We raised her this way, and are dreadfully proud.

Lady Frances' troubles with....ahem....'self Brazilian obsession and compulsion' started off innocently, as these things usually do. An impressionable beauty, with too much time on her hands. Handsome squire away on secret missions, flying the skies to protect hearth and home. And then mother introduces another into the fold. A human child. Oh yes. A bald squalling brat of little notable worth, who frankly took up too much of the human slave's time. The hairless squirt simply roared, farted and vomited incessantly. And yet, not once did the human let loose with a fistful of claws across its ever open noise-hole. Surely, this would have been the correct reaction to this unwelcome interloper. But never let it be said that the Lady Frances did not TRY. Oh try she did. She sat delicately by its side and drooled lovingly on its head. She joined in the incessant caterwauling - as one knows....misery does indeed love company. She took every opportunity to lie in its cot, pram and rocker...simply to warm it up.

And the gratitude for these esteemable actions.....NOTHING. WORSE THAN NOTHING....she was pushed aside. For THAT hairless, screeching amorphous blob.

And so it began. She only mean't to try it once. Just to see what this hairless business was all about. To satisfy her curiousity about the appeal of pink furless flesh.

And ladies and gentleman the obsession grew. The compulsion to rid herself and bare great swathes of skin is now uncontrollable. Lady Frances must wear full length sleeves and trousers at all times to cover the pink naked flesh. No more skimpy summer dresses for our Lady Frances.

There was a time that we wept. Oh yes, many a tear has fallen. But now? Goddammit, we just accept her in all her patchy glory. If she is addicted to perfecting the full body Brazilian, well so be it. We love her anyway!!

And for the record....Rupert hasn't complained once!!

Mish Mash

I can't hear; my ears are blocked. Louis was sick, ergo I am now sick. I have a blocked head.

Happily, Louis is much better. He is now a velociraptor. A velociraptor who has enormous coughing fits if he runs around too much.

I have nothing to say. Except little mutterings of self pity. So here are a few photos that Louis has taken, that I found on my camera. I know Lynn, totally ripped off post from here. Sue me and I will come around and sneeze on you :)





These two are old. Thank fuck. I hate Thomas and Spencer so much. That obsession ran for a little too long and was way too pervasive. I have that involuntary reaction to the theme song, whereby my bum eats a little bit of my pants.







That last one was my beautiful princess - Frances. She has a bunch of neuroses only rivalled in this household by myself. She actually pulls her hair out by her teeth. She has given herself a complete Brazillian. She has no hair on her forearms either. It's true. I will post some pictures tomorrow. Promise. You just hang in there kids. I know that there is little excitement in this world that compares to pictures of my cat's undercarriage.

Cheers, your welcome.

Can't even see Dawn's crack

Well it is 5am. Have done the folding of washing. Cleaned a bathroom. Emptied the dishwasher. About the scrub the floors. Anyone else get obsessed with cleaning when sleep deprivation is afoot?

Louis up and down all night. He is up right now. Well horizontal on the lounge but UP out of bed. As in, can't be up on his own. He is still feverish. Day Three now.

I am tired. I think that is why I keep moving too. You feel it more when you stop.

Okay, going to clean.
Bye

Fever all through the night

Poor wee chook is sick. Fevers and a barking seal cough. Does anything tug at the heartstrings more than your sick offspring? He has the rosy cheeks that come with fever and the bleary watery eyes. Every time I ask him how he is (why do I do this? Isn't it obvious?) he says "good". Despite the fact he has not moved off the lounge for two days, except to go to bed.

Hubs is home today. Taking a day off due to having had no sleep for a couple of nights. Hacking seals are not soporific. This allowed me to go and search for dinosaur DVDs for the patient. There simply are not enough dinosaur documentaries around. I got the giggles though, embarrassing when one is alone, when I realise that I bypass the children's section altogether and head directly for the section next to the porn, labelled "Special Interest". Aint that the truth!!

And yes, I know about "The Land Before Time" and Diego's and Dora's efforts at including dinosaurs in the scream-fests they call episodes. Louis almost had conniptions over their incorrect naming of prehistoric beasts. When the dinosaurs started talking he simply removed himself from the room in disgust.

Luckily, I found a documentary that he has not seen. Thank you Discovery Channel.

I am off to mop a fevered brow. Bye

A friend indeed

I just left Louis' bedroom after putting him to sleep. He just had his second meltdown of the day about not wanting to go to prechool.
It is impossible for him to explain why he doesn't want to go. I can't really suggest reasons, hoping to act as a catalyst for him to talk, because he just echos what I say.

I am pretty sure the problem is that his little playmate is away this week. This is the only kid that Louis plays with at preschool. He has been nominated as the "friend". I have written before about Louis' firm belief that he can only have one friend at a time.

The thing is, I think Louis being upset has nothing really to do with the actual kid, it is because his entire predictable preschool experience has been disrupted. Louis knew HOW to play with this friend. They have been solely each other's company at preschool since September last year. He NEVER sees this kid outside of school. He NEVER pines for this kid outside of school. He has loads of other kids outside of school that he has playdates with and he loves playing with them. I think that he does that compartmentalising thing. This kid for preschool, this kid for out of school etc etc.

Anyway, it is heartbreaking. I had an inkling that he may have a reaction, so I organised to be parent helper tomorrow. Hey hey!! Autism kid foresight....nice one. Last thing he asked before he sobbed himself to sleep was "could you carry me all day tomorrow?" cue heartbreak right here.
Oh baby, I will carry you every moment until you can walk on your own.

If anyone has any idea on how to help in this situation, I am open to suggestions.

Cheers

School hopefully.

Okey dokey....heads up I have some news.
I THINK I have found a school for Louis!
We had one of two interviews yesterday. It was with the principal of the whole school and the principal of the junior school and the head of Learning Support.
My husband stayed at work for this one. We figured we wouldn't give away the gene pool mystery this early. Ha! Nah, we decided to take along Louis' therapist for this one.

And let me tell you IT WAS BRILLIANT! I couldn't have scripted it better.

They are really on the ball, as far as knowing their autism stuff. They asked the right questions and seemed happy with our answers. Both principals and Learning Support teacher knew all about the quirks of autism. From what I hear they have quite a lot of autistic and other special needs kids in the mainstream classes. It is the only mainstream school I have come across, that have sent ALL their staff to autism specific training. How great is that? They totally understood what I meant, when I described Louis' shut downs. They got quite excited actually, because they have a boy in Year 8 that just disappears and stops hearing and seeing too.

But the best thing, Louis' therapist - a brilliant woman and great friend of mine - used to be the boss of the Learning Support leader. They did the whole OMG hug hug thing. I knew at that point, things were on my side.

Anyway, the Learning Support woman is going to see Louis at preschool next week. I guess the only person that can stuff things up at this point is him. As if that is going to happen, he is too adorable for words these days.

I warned them about his current dinosaur obsession and can only hope that he is a herbivore that day.

Cheers!

Happy Birthday to Me

It is my birthday today! I am 39 years old.

Louis said "happy birthday", with only a little prompting.

That was a pretty damn good present.

He does insist that I am 87 years old though. And that he is 31 years old.

Wanna see something cute?

And finally.....what I found when I went to hang out the washing:

Grumpy Old Troll

My cranky old bitch level is right up there tonight. I feel all prickly and frustrated. I really am the dream wife, you know?

Trying to keep it all in. Pushed down into that tight, seething ball in the pit of my guts.

We got back a little while ago from my brother's place. Unfortunately, Louis was less than pleasant in the social niceties stakes this afternoon. Feeling the way I do right now, I can't really blame him. Thing is, Louis probably tries a lot harder than I do to keep his equilibrium.

He is just having an off day. He has had five accidents of the liquid variety today. He just doesn't seem to have felt the urge - until too late. He was biting his fingers a lot, once we were at his cousin's house and was not able to speak for a while. He wanted to keep his tight beanie on his head for the majority of the visit too.

I organised some outside running around, to ease his stress, which worked well. My family are the greatest, but they do tend to LOOK at Louis a lot, mainly because they desperately want to ease his discomfort and are always watching him for signs of distress. So, outside running around was a pretty good relaxer for a while.

I started to wind things up and we all went back inside. Louis was quite short with his cousin, who wanted to play WITH him. There were a few instances of bellowing "NO, I DON'T WANT TO", "I DON'T WANT TO PLAY" and just plain old "I SAID NO!" Each time he was made to apologise quickly and we all moved on.

However, I was glad to get out of there tonight. Some days autism and social stuff, just aren't going to mix, no matter how we may try.

We drove home listening to a compilation CD of dinosaur songs. It was when my husband pointed out that swearing under my breath repeatedly when they sung about the 'mighty brontosaurus'*, that I realised ONCE AGAIN, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

* It is NOT a brontosaurus. There is NO SUCH THING as a brontosaurus. It is an Apatosaurus.

Anyhoo, I am off. In every which way.

The Good Wife

Who tells men that little blonde frosted tips on their hair looks good? Just can't STAND that look!

And that brushed forward bieber looking do, that young teenage lads have. Shit on toast.

I guess this is part of getting old. Men under the age of 30 just look ridiculous to me. They seem to flounce around a lot more than men used to. As a woman, I appreciate the ability to spell correctly incredibly more sexy than the ability to ponce around the local shopping centre with faux-hawks.

So I have banned my husband from the local mall.

Ha ha ha!

He totally has no hair to mohawk, fauxhawk, foof or flounce. There are a few little baby elephant tufts up top and that is about it.

BUT he can spell.

And so we shall remain married.

So this train of thought came about because I was wondering if my Louis will ever give a crap about looks and style. I have spoken to mothers, who claim that their son's are extremely picky about what they wear. Seriously! They insist on certain styles of clothes, and choose clothes for how they LOOK. I am not talking about needing soft clothes, with no tags etc. I am talking aesthetics! At kindergarten age.

Louis rarely notices if he is dressed or not. He often toddles off out of the house with no shoes on. He gets in the bath with his clothes still on. If I didn't pull him up, I really don't know how long it would be until he noticed.

So, I was just wondering if anyone elses tizzy kids notice what they are wearing. To be honest, I am hoping that he never cares about this stuff. I would hate to have to start putting an effort into what I look like, for fear of embarrassing him!

I will leave you with this morning's Louis antics.

Louis was walking back from the park with Daddy and the dog. A man walked past them with another dog, which barked fiercely at our dog. Louis freaked. Daddy swung around trying to control our equally freaked out dog and inadvertently hit Louis in the head with his back pack. I had been watching from our house and shuffled down the road to meet them.

Louis was sniffling still when I picked him up. He said "Mummy, Daddy hit me in the head". I said "That is no good buddy, it was an accident though". Louis replied "No, he did it on purpose". I grinned and said to Daddy "Well, that was a crappy thing to do, wasn't it!". Daddy tried for a teaching moment "Louis, it was an accident. When you kicked that girl, when you were on the swing, that was an accident wasn't it?". Louis "No it was on purpose".

Nice one!

So anyway, we had a scheduled play date which we rocked up to with Louis wearing a bandage around his head and bandaids plastered in his hair (he insisted on this). Then he got to tell everyone that he looked the way he did because: "Daddy, hits me on the head - ON PURPOSE!!"

Poor Hubs. I am so not a united front. Nope, not for a minute.

Remember me??

Howza kids!

I am nearly back on board. Every Louis free moment has been devoted to essays, assignments and exams. Only one more to go, and I am FREE baby!!

For three weeks anyway.

Just going to give a quick recount of the EEG excitement. I am so proud of my laddio. He sat there like a freaking champ, while they stuck on all the leads and bandages. He lay in that bed for 24 hours and did not complain once. The techs and neurologists were amazed by his good behaviour.

You know, I would like to pretend that it has something to do with my parenting. But it doesn't. Louis is just one of those autistic kids that LOVE a good rule. When he is told what is going to happen, and then it happens, he is okay. It is when things happen unexpectedly that he falls apart. Also, he totally loses the power to speak or move when he is stressed. So he looks well behaved, when really he is going into shut down. NEAT huh!!!

Joking, it is pretty sad to watch, when you know what is going on. Luckily the neurologist has spent time with Louis before and knew to start making random statements about dinosaurs to relax him. Before long, Louis could talk again and was off on the endless dinosaur monologue that took up most of the next 24 hours.

So Louis was great. Handled the whole event with grace and style.

If anyone cares, I didn't sleep a fucking wink. I had a lovely fold out chair to sleep on. But one really shitty thing about the children's hospital, is all the sick children. Sick children are understandably pissed off. And pissed off sick kids can be damn loud! All night! Poor mites. But still, no sleep for me!!

End result of the 24 hour video EEG.......

SAME AS LAST TIME!!!!

bilateral epileptiform discharges happening often in both day and night. Not quite seizures but possibly precursors, maybe just a stangely wired autistic brain. No MRI (thank you!) and no medication at this point. All good, just need to keep an eye on him.

So that is that.

I will be back soon, blogging regularly again.

Before I go, this is a conversation I had with Louis this morning.

Louis: almost in tears "I wish I could be a super hero"
Me: "Like superman?"
Louis: "No! Like SuperLouis"
Me: "You can be SuperLouis today, if you like"
Louis: "No thank you"
Me: ??

Bridge over Troubled Water.

Louis just pulled me up to tell me this:

Louis: "Mummy, if I cross a bloody old bridge and fall in, there will be carnivores in the water and they will eat me. Then Daddy will sit in the back and you will have to drive HIM to preschool. Or maybe you could be eaten too and Daddy can FINALLY drive the car !!"

What am I supposed to get from this information?

I am bogarting the car?
Louis doesn't want to go to preschool anymore and would rather be eaten alive by meat eating dinosaurs?

How am I going to stop him saying "bloody old bridge". He got it off Dora. He misheard the grumpy old troll talking about his bridge and refers to any overpass as a "bloody old bridge".

Kindergarten is going to be fun,right. Hmmmm. Apparently today at preschool he kept announcing that dinosaurs "stink". Finally they cottoned on that he mean't "extinct".

Raise a glass to Big Daddy.

Howdy folks. I am back again. Maybe only sporadically for the next couple of weeks though. Big time assignments and exams coming up.

I wanted to make good my threat however, to review Big Daddy's book.

I read the book in two sittings. I was really impressed. You see, I own at least forty memoirs, biographies, compilations relating to autism. Yes, obsession is a hobby of mine.

Big Daddy has written the ONLY book that I have read, that has the perfect balance of gritty honesty, outrageous humour and touching poignancy. And outrageous humour....did I mention that?

I have read all of Big Daddy's posts. Each day, I feel as though I walk through the door of his house and sit down to enjoy the show. I have a deep respect for his wife, I simply adore his autistic son Griffin and I am proud of the young lady that Lil Sis is becoming. Big Daddy, seems kinda cool too. Bit obsessed with his own moobs, but hey different strokes and all.

I wouldn't know these people, if I passed them on the street; which is unlikely considering the oppositie hemispheric locations we reside in. And yet, I really care about them. I look forward to hearing what is going on in their lives. I relate to them and when I read Big Daddy's blog, I feel part of a community. Something bigger than myself. That is a nice place to be able to go, when my own life raising and child with autism gets difficult.

Big Daddy's book, is all this and more. I can only liken it to how my son felt when, after watching months worth of Thomas episodes, he discovered there was a feature length movie. Yeah, that good.

He has written a book, that like his blog, celebrates the hysterically funny and often surreal moments that living with a child with autism brings. I respect his ability to appeal to such a vast array of us residing in the autism community. He has been able to do this, without buying into any politics that surrounds autism. He has shown through example that acceptance and respect is a destination that we all should reach for, no matter which side of the autism debate we are on.
The essays interspersed throughout the book are written by some brilliant online writers of autism. It was delightful to recognise each 'voice' and be taken by the hand to experience a little more deeply their experiences with autism.

My husband is currently reading Big Daddy's book. I can hear him laughing out loud, from rooms away.


Oh and Lynn, you start the book with a comment about squirting your pants and bookend it with a statment comparing Italy to a sleazy slut. Girl, you are a legend!

You done good Big Daddy.

Sleepless saga post eleventy million

Things are pretty rough round these parts with the ongoing and worsening lack of sleep.

Most days, just getting through on survival mode. That is okay. Surviving is better than not surviving.

However, blogging not up there in priorities.

I will be back on scintillating form soon.

I HAVE finished Big Daddy's book. It is fucking fantastic. I will be reviewing it, as previously threatened. I just want to do it justice and so will wait until I have a night's sleep under my belt.

So a big hello from under the fog.

No more miles to go before I sleep.

Howdy folks

I have been MIA. Madness, stress, lack of sleep and madness. Did I mention madness?

I am taking the advice of a dear friend, who has suggested that I shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Apparently, the vaccuuming, essay reworking and shopping can wait. So that is what I have been trying to do.

I imagine I would feel a lot better, if I didn't feel so goddamn guilty.

Anyhoo.....

Big Daddy's book arrived today. Very excited. I will read it and review it. Right here, on this blog. Stay tuned.