Ellie usually looks at something in her lap while I’m combing her hair thus rendering her a version of Cousin It. I thought I was combing the side when I callously poked her in the eye.

Ellie: OW! MOM! Why did you do that?
Me: Sorry honey, I didn’t see your eye there.
Ellie: Well that doesn’t even make sense! My eye is always in the same spot!

PBS is a popular channel in the Wilson household. Oversights by negligent writers and actors however, are not tolerated. In an effort to promote learning, there is a commercial starring Guy Smilie as a game show host with Cookie Monster and two other animated contestants. Guy asks, “What nighttime activity promotes a love of learning?”. One of the contestants has the unabashed gall to answer, “reading”.

Ellie’s beef (and it is a strong one): They are WRONG!!! You can read any time of day. He is LYING!

Another felony takes place during a snippet of a father and son baking a cake for the mom’s birthday. The two are smiling, measuring, and pouring ingredients into a bowl. The son stirs everything together and, this is where it goes so terribly wrong. He licks his fingers. Why is it wrong?

Ellie’s beef: There are EGGS in that mixture. He is NOT allowed to lick his fingers, the spatula, or bowl if a raw egg has come in contact with it!!!

Sounds like a new Andy Sandberg video, doesn’t it? My junior entomologist is turning our home into a virtual bug village. In the last month, I’ve been woken up awakened freaked out at dawn by a slug held right in front of my eyeball, have trapped a brown recluse for observation, and swallowed a bottle of xanax because the cat knocked over Ellie’s bug catcher in the middle of the night – it contained a cricket, two roly poly bugs, and an ant.

We have now reached a new high low. Ben had dinner recently with a friend who lives in Arizona. This “friend” told Ben about all the scorpions he finds in his yard (and two in his tub…sweet Mother of Mercy). Ellie was riveted by this and said, “Daddy, I need you to write him an email. I’ll tell you what to say. Dear Friend, when you go outside take a stick with you. Find a scorpion and stick it with the stick. Then mail it to me so my Daddy can drill it to my wall.”

When this happens, I’ll be moving in with you. I don’t need much room. Just a corner to call my own. Where I can rock and suck my thumb.

Some days I just can’t laugh about Asperger’s and the quirks that come with it. Some days, it sucks the life out of everything. I’m a fun Mom. I like getting dirty, doing crafts, singing songs, etc. Not just like it. LOVE IT! Many days though, I have to gear up for it with Ellie. A simple and fun activity is more than meets the eye.

After I show her what we’re going to do, she wants to take over and have me conform. There are times when I comply. It makes her happy to make the rules. Then there are times, like today, when making marbleized paintings in plastic bags, we follow the directions. And have fun goddammit! So, what ends up happening, is she becomes frustrated that she can’t control the activity at all times. And doesn’t have fun. Then I become frustrated that I spent all this time coming up with something fun to do only to have yet one more thing end up in the shitter. It’s really emotionally draining.

Ellie: Mom. You said we could hunt for snails after school today.
Me: Okay. We can.
Ellie: Remember, you told me that if I catch any, I can keep them in my bug catcher for two days.
Me: I don’t remember telling you that, sweetie. We don’t want to keep them in there for too long cause eeeeewwww snails in my house because they need air, food, and water.
Ellie: But you TOLD me I could keep them for TWO days!!
Me: Maybe you misunderstood me.
Ellie: What does misunderstood mean?
Me: It means that Mommy probably wasn’t listening to your twelfth straight hour of dialogue regarding bugs and would have agreed to anything for two seconds of silence when people don’t quite understand one another.
Ellie: Mom, are you sorry you misunderstood me?
Me: So very much, honey. You have no idea.

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’.

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?