We may have a replacement perseveration. Is perseveration a word? I can’t be bothered with googling. You know how exhausting that can be. Opening a new window tab, typing, scrolling, blah and blah blah.

Back to perseveration. If it takes the place of the ever-exalted tank tops that preceded (I can’t even be bothered to relink to the thirty seven tank top posts as a reference. Take my word for it. I thought it would never end.), I would be willing to walk on my hands. For the rest of my days. Ellie has taken to showering. All by herself. It’s awesome. She takes two, sometimes three showers a day. AND, she tells everyone else about it. So, it’s a double-bonus whammy, if you will. The cashier at Target gets to listen to the 7-part lecture series on showering while I can kinda zone out, PLUS Ellie’s initiating conversations! I could care less if she scripts or lectures, she initiates conversations. With other people. Often times with some eye contact. I refuse to look further down the path to see when this might become problematic. At the moment, she smells like strawberries and I don’t have to answer questions about tank tops. SCHAWING.

I was at TJ Maxx today and while waiting to make my purchase, I noticed that they are asking for donations to Autism Speaks. It made me glad to see their support. A sign was posted at each register that if a cashier fails to ask you to donate, you receive a balloon. Given the $1500 our team raised in October, and the fact that Autism Speaks in our house daily, I was prepared to tell the cashier “no”. She, however, didn’t ask me. So I said, “I’d like a balloon, please.” She looked at me, blinked a few times, flipped her hair, and snapped her gum. I repeated that I’d like a balloon since I wasn’t asked to donate.

My cashier turned to her neighbor with another combination hair flip/gum snap, and said, “Yeah, so what’s the deal with the balloons?” Once informed, my cashier asked me if I wanted to donate. I politely told her, “No thanks. I just want my balloon. My daughter with Autism will enjoy it immensely and the next 100 customers you have to ask for a donation, will certainly thank me for their impending inconvenience.”

[4-Year-Old on Early Retirement]
Ellie: So. Mom and Dad. We have jobs at school. Every day we can pick what we want to do.
Me: How fun. What are your favorite jobs?
Ellie: Weather Reporter and News Reporter. BUT. You know WHAT? You can also go on v-cation! It’s not a trip or anything. You get to just sit back and relax. I never knew about that one. That’s my new favorite job.

[4-Year-Old Pawning of Baby on 5-Year-Old]
Ellie: Hey Lucy? Do you want a baby in your tummy?
Lucy: No.
Ellie: Me neither. Mom says it pinches when it comes out. That’s why I’m going to adopt a baby. Do you want to adopt a baby?
Lucy: Sure!
Ellie: Great! Then, maybe you could feed my baby or change its diaper for me when I have other things to do.

[Is Maya a Respite Care Provider or is Your Mommy Just Lame? When to let the "Autism Cat" Out of the Bag.]
Lucy: Hey Ellie, Maya’s coming to our house tonight.
Ellie: Oh. Maya comes to your house in the evening and to our house in the morning.
Lucy: Yeah. She comes for my brother because he has a hard time sometimes. I wonder why she comes to see you?
Ellie: Well, sometimes my Mom has a lot of work to do and doesn’t always have time to play with me.
Me: [holding breath and forgetting to exhale...dangerous, for said conversation took place while I was driving.]

[Tank Top Reprise]
Ellie: Mom, are you wearing a tank top?
Me: We’ve been over this. Sometimes I wear tank tops. Sometimes you wear tank tops. Sometimes you wear short-sleeved shirts. Sometimes Mommy wears short-sleeved shirts. It doesn’t really matter (tank tops, tank tops, tank top).
Ellie: So can I wear a tank top?

[Job Opportunity with Exceptions]
Ellie: Mom, I think I want to be a doctor when I grow up. But, I’m going to have to close my eyes when I give shots.
*Note: Please refer to the first conversation of this post…it’s not boding well for Dr. Ellie Hypodermic Caribbean Cruise, MD.

Oh goodness. My friend, Lizbeth guided me to Adventures in Extreme Parenthood, where its owner, Sunday, started “Special Needs Ryan Gosling Fridays”. She made my day and is accepting submissions to create your own. Here’s my Ryan.

Today’s latest ice breaker at the park. Ellie said to an eight-year-old girl, “Hi. I like to eat flies.”

The word “playground” or “park” used to throw Ellie into full meltdown mode because that meant other children would be there. Today, Ellie enjoys the playground. The only time she melts down now, is when she is trapped between a kid waiting to go down a slide or ladder and another kid coming up behind her. No one is moving and she can’t take it.

Much to the chagrin of the other little urchins, I haul my wide load up to wherever she’s stuck (which, by the way, is never close to the ground…it’s always a three or four-story slide with climbing structures not meant for my beefy hock meat) and help her work it out. Once she’s unstuck, she’s good to go. Back in the day, that meant she was D.O.N.E. It’s so nice to see her enjoying things typical kids enjoy.

A couple of days ago, swinging by herself just clicked. She got those little legs pumping along with the rhythm of pulling on the chains and there was no stopping her. It’s the first time I had the personal experience of seeing what swinging does for a kid on the spectrum. There was a group of about eight to ten heathen children all around her. Screaming. Bumping into her. Getting in front of her. Things that she would choose to move away from in most other instances (can’t say as I blame her…heathen children and their dead beat, magazine-flippin’, cell phone chattering parents shouldn’t be allowed at the park…just sayin’).

This girl was so relaxed, centered, and calm, none of that phased her in the least. She just got back on course. After about thirty minutes, I took a seat on a bench behind her. Ellie was SO calm that she didn’t even notice that the entire length of her little butt crack was sticking out. She nearly swung right out of her capris, a situation made worse by not having much for the capris to cling to in the first place. She clearly gets this from her father’s side of the family. I would know if my crack even considered making an appearance AND my hips provide plenty of wealth for my pants to hold onto. Again, just sayin’.

So um, yeah. I’ve been in a bit of an anti autism awareness funk/delusion/cone of silence for a bit. It’s really not unlike any of the other projects in my life. I start off like a cannon with things and then fizzle out like a whisltley burnt out firework. Here are examples from the picture slide show that plays in my head. C’mon in, just try to avoid stepping on anything that looks important.

THOUGHT PROCESS NUMBER ONE:
I’m going to create a color palette for the house and make canvases for each room based on a theme so there is some unity and cohesiveness. First, I will scour the internet for ideas, carefully organizing the 372 bookmarks based on the order me likey, then by future fabrics, furniture, curtains, rugs, and pinterest projects that will follow. I will get samples from the paint store and create hand sketches of each room with the desired colors and pin them to a poster board to see it all come together.

ACTUAL RESULT:
I painted two rooms with colors I liked. They really match nothing else in the house. There were no sketches. There was no poster board. I do, however, have one unfinished canvas hanging in the bedroom…going on three years now.

THOUGHT PROCESS NUMBER TWO (I said number two):
I’m going to start an etsy site. Certainly there is a call for crocheted tricycle cozies with entire outfits to match their loving riders. Tomorrow, I will crochet my demos, photograph them professionally, and get my site up and running. This will be a great way to make some extra money.

ACTUAL RESULT:
I took three scarves I made to a local shop to see if they were interested in selling them. That was a month ago. I really should go back and pick those up.

Autism Awareness was no different for me last year. With Ellie’s diagnosis fresh under our belts, I was ready to charge into this at full speed. I lit my house blue. I made blue puzzle pieces for the windows and a wreath for the door. I wrote to the President to light the White House blue and inundated my fb page with blue. I got a team together for the Autism Speaks Walk. I designed team tshirts, wrote and visited local businesses for support, and wrote thank you notes.

This year, blue, puzzle pieces, and walking won’t be happening for us. I’m not into it – kinda just not in the mood. This is the year I’m going to try my hand at gardening. I think tomorrow I will till an area in the back yard and start preparing the soil. Raised beds are nice. I think maybe I’ll get some lumber and put those together this weekend. I’ve always wanted to try upside down tomatoes. Oh, then maybe I could start canning. Homemade salsa would be fun to start with and then I could…

The acronym “IEP” immediately makes me clench. And, with very good reason. The hoops my fellow blogging (I don’t mean that word to sound naughty, but it just does) Moms jump through, backwards, with aerial stunts, while on fire to get the services they need for their kids is unbelievable. As a result, I go into my IEP meetings (all two of them) with extra layers of antiperspirant and spackle in my crack to prevent the clenching.

Truth be told, we managed to have the luck of the Irish with us when we moved to St. Louis and got into the school district we did. During Ellie’s kindergarten transition IEP, there was a lot of talk about pulling out and pushing in. Not gonna lie, it made Ben and me raise an eyebrow. They really should rethink their terminology for those parents like us for whom Beavis and Butthead was created. Nonetheless, the new special education teacher is amazing and we are putting her in our will (I wonder what she’ll get with that $5).

Thanks to Ellie’s preschool teacher and staff, she met all five of her goals from her first IEP. They rock. Ellie is the first student her preschool teacher has had that will be in gen ed 100% of the time. Every time I hear “100%” a leprechaun gets gold, or a fairy gets wings, or an angel kisses a freckle or something like that. This is great because the more modeling she can get from her kindergarten cohorts the better (even if it means saying “butt” a lot) . Her special ed teacher will “push in” twice a week for thirty minutes to help Ellie with social skills. She will also provide Ellie with plenty of breaks. There will be a place in her kindergarten room to go to for some quiet time and to decompress and help with sensory issues. The teachers will provide visual schedules and cues for her to help her with transitions. We will reconvene after the first three weeks to see if this strategy is working or if we need to modify anything.

Prior to school, there will be opportunities to take her up to the building as often as needed, a trial bus trip will be provided, and parent volunteers set up social gatherings so the kids can meet and get to know one another. I’m wildly optimistic and also realistic. This will be a big change and with big changes come some new behaviors. But, to feel like I have a team of people looking out for us is a great way to start.

Ellie: Do you have a Mom?
Me: I used to.
Ellie: Where is she?
Me: Well, she couldn’t be here anymore but I love her very much.
Ellie: You must really miss her.

I don’t know what hit me harder. The honesty of how much I truly miss my Mom every single day or how my sweet little peanut was able to make this amazing connection. It was precious.

We had our very good friends come stay with us this weekend from the Chicagoland area. The kind of friends that provide wonderful, nonstop belly laughs, that often lead to peed pants. We don’t get to see them nearly enough. The two husbands exchanged secret emails prior to the visit to arrange a post-Valentine dinner out at a nice restaurant. Just for us grown ups. AWESOME.

I’m not really adventurous in the oceanic eating experience, but I felt like being a big girl and trying something new. Scallops. And, I loved them. All two and a half of them before I had an allergic reaction and had to go to the ER. After several shots of benadryl, steroids, and epinephrine, I was free to go. Do I know how to kick things up a notch er what? Luckily for us, it was a Mardi Gras freakfest in the ER, so we had lots of quality people watching.

This morning, Ben thought it might be interesting to let Ellie in on our adventure. Here’s how it went down:

Ben: Ellie, you know while you were sleeping last night, we had to take Mommy to the hospital?
Ellie: Awwwwwww. Have you seen my other pillow?