A Smeddling Kiss

Throw It at the Wall and See if It Sticks.

I'm tired of writing about my kids. They take up most of my time and energy, leaving very little left over in my days for ME, and that means when I sit down to write something, my brain is stuck on KIDS KIDS KIDS. How did I become this boring mommy person?! 

But hey - let's not talk about boring old ME. Let's talk about... my KIDS. Blerg. 

When last we heard about our mini-heroine, she was spending her time stressing out *about* but excelling *in* school while tilting from one emotional extreme to the next at home, all the while complaining of headaches and blurred vision and foot cramps and various other psychosomatic illnesses. Her mother attempted to assuage her worry by booking an appointment with the eye doctor 2 weeks hence, but our heroine continues to languish, convinced that she has something far more seriously wrong with her. 

Enough of that. My week was filled with lots of volunteering and random moments. In a typical 5 minute vignette that ended poorly, I was collecting the kids in the lobby of the school for an after-school activity when I ran into Pepper's teacher from last year. As we stand there catching up, another teacher walks up and says she has some books for Peanut to read - her son is in class with him and is also an advanced reader, so she has some books from her classroom to loan him. As she leaves, yet another person walks up with information about yet another school activity, and suddenly, Pepper lets out a shriek of pain that silences the crowd in the lobby. 

The adults scatter, and as we hustle to the nurse for an ice pack for her bloody nose, I ask what happened. 

"I walked into the wall!" 

"How did that happen?!" 

"I had my eyes closed and I walked into the wall!" 

"Why were you were walking around the lobby with your eyes closed?!?!" 

"I thought H was steering me by the shoulders, but she steered me into the WALL!" 

"How did that happen? Did she do it on purpose, or was it an accident, or what?" 

"She had HER eyes closed, too!" 

 Oh. Kay. Then. 

Multiply that scenario by, like, 70 and you've got my week. (And perhaps she *does* have something wrong with her, because that just ain't right. I KEEEEED, I keeeed....) 

As for Peanut, after much discussion with all of the various highly-trained personnel in his life, we have started him on an ADHD medication. So far, so good - not a dramatic difference, but it definitely lessens the "pinballing around the room" behavior. He's only been taking it for a few days, so we'll see if it helps his at-school behavior. His finger is healing nicely, although we have to work on his tendency to hold it out away from the other fingers as he uses his hand, inadvertently giving the finger to everyone in view. And don't even get me started on the campaign I am waging to get him to stop referring to a certain Looney Tunes character as "Yo, Semite Sam." 

Wish me luck - I'm hoping for a "Swear-Word-&-Bloodshed Free" afternoon.

Labels: blerg., kids, Peanut, Pepper, total randomness

Tales From the Backseat: Forty-Foreplay

Driving the kids to school after an early-morning doctor's appointment, Peanut is chattering away. I am, as usual, having trouble catching everything he is saying. That child can go on and on about his various obsessions (the Titanic, the Beatles, the various intricacies of cultural life on Stomposia, the imaginary planet he says he was born before he came to Earth and became a baby in my tummy.) 

In the face of non-stop 7 year old nattering, I admit it - I revert to the parenting "Uh huh... sure... okay..." response mode with him a little too often. It's usually when I can hear enough bits and pieces so that I'm pretty confident I'm not agreeing to let him hitchhike to Arizona by himself, but I should try harder, I know. Moving on. 

"Mom, what's 'foreplay'?" 

"Uhm... that is a grown-up word. It's not a swear, but it is like a swear - kids can't say it." 

"But what does it mean?" 

 "Well, it's like kissing... but for grown-ups." 

A pause, and then, "Mom? I want to foreplay you on the mouth!!" Aaaand... SCENE! 

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The perseveration continues, however. A day later, he is dancing around me in the kitchen doing his OCD/Tourrette-like version of the pee-pee dance, only for words. He can barely hold it in, he says... he wants to say "FOREPLAY!!" He is stricken! He SAID it! Oh no!!! He cries, we talk, life goes on.

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A few nights later, he informs his father that he knows what "foreplay" means, then quickly backpedals and says, "SEVENplay! I mean SEVENPLAY, because *I* am seven and... and... and... Mom forty-fourplays with you, right?" 

And there is another serious conversation, and then the next morning in the car, he tells me he is afraid he is going to say it at school, that he just can't stop thinking it and that he is worried he will say it out loud and get in trouble. 

I suggest that he substitute another word for it, something silly that will distract him, like "walnuts." We have used this technique in the past for unacceptable verbal perseverations, and he does pretty well with it. "Mom, can I walnuts you on the cheek when we get home?"

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Another couple days go by, with him using the word "walnuts," but goofing around with it. "Walnuts me, baby!!" he says to his sister. "I want to walnuts your whole face, Mommy!" It tapers off, and then one morning, we are snuggling on the couch watching cartoons, and he turns to me and says, "Let's not say 'walnuts' anymore. We can just say 'kissing.'" 

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And so we come full circle, back to appropriate word usage, after a week of consoling, correcting, threatening, and explaining. Too bad for Dr. V., but I need a little break from "foreplay."

Labels: autism, bad words, frustration, Peanut, social awkwardness