Life, Autism, Disability, and More

Tag Archives: eating ice cream

Assorted colorful glass marbles arranged over a white background

I haven’t lost them yet…

Because it’s one of those days, I woke up after a really horrible panic attack last night, and I wanted to stay home and take a mental health day.

Because it’s one of those days, I decided that I should go ahead and force myself out of bed and to school.

Because it’s one of those days, I left school early to get coffee and sushi.

Because it’s one of those days, I had forgotten to tell Simon’s teacher that I’d be picking him up early, and so I texted her and warned her.

Because it’s one of those days, Simon (who didn’t know he had a doctor’s appointment) had been telling his teacher that Mom was picking him up to take him to the rodeo.

Because it’s one of those days, I picked up Simon to take him to the doctor for his yearly check-up and his physical for Special Olympics, and he wanted his teacher to see Mom’s black car.

Because it’s one of those days, at the nurse part of the visit, I found out he is only two inches shorter and fifteen pounds lighter than me.

Because it’s one of those days, I didn’t realize that I was jinxing myself when I said, “Wow, he’s never done that before” when he let the nurse take his temperature orally.

Because it’s one of those days, it wasn’t until we went into the room to wait for the doctor that I realized the crotch of his pants had split and his blue underwear was showing through.

Because it’s one of those days, I didn’t have to feel like a bad mother for not noticing his pants had split because it was time for Simon to get changed into a gown.

Because it’s one of the days, the wait for the doctor had been going on for seemingly forever when Simon announced, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Because it’s one of those days, a second after Simon made the announcement, he began peeing…on the floor…through his underpants and the gown.

Because it’s one of those days, there was a lot of pee. A lot of it. Like the whole floor was covered in it.

Because it’s one of those days, even though I told him to stop peeing, he kept peeing. And peeing. And peeing. And peeing.

Because it’s one of those days, I quickly pulled off his soaked socks, threw some paper towels on the floor, and dragged him to the bathroom to finish peeing (assuming there was any left in him).

Because it’s one of those days, the doctor walked in as I was trying to toss paper towels all over the huge puddle of pee, and I had to warn her not to come into the room very far because in about two steps, she would have slipped and fallen, and that might have been a bad way to start the visit.

Because it’s one of those days, I had to repeatedly explain to the doctor that no, this wasn’t normal behavior, he doesn’t pee on floors everywhere we go, and, honestly, he is pretty well potty trained.

Because it’s one of those days, I had Simon show off by saying dog in four languages (well, five if you include English) to the doctor since I kind of felt I had to prove that he doesn’t just go around peeing on the floors.

Because it’s one of those days, after the doctor left the room to fill out his Special Olympics paperwork and he needed to put his clothes back on, it was full-on meltdown time because he did not, I repeat, did NOT want to go home without underwear.

Because it’s one of those days, it took me a minute to realize that he had to wear his pants WITH THE HOLE IN THE CROTCH without any underwear.

Because it’s one of those days, the whole of pediatrics got to listen to Simon scream, at the top of his lung capacity, that he wanted fresh underwear.

Because it’s one of those days, I considered taking him to Target and just buying some new underwear for him, but then I realized that would mean walking through Target with him in ripped pants and his balls hanging out (literally) while he screamed that he wanted fresh underwear.

Because it’s one of those days, I decided against taking him to Target because we would probably wind up being arrested for public indecency, and I convinced him that we could go straight home and then he would have fresh underwear.

Because it’s one of those days, since we’ve gotten home, I’ve had a hot bubble bath and some Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

Because it’s one of those days, don’t you judge me.

Ugly Dog Stickers

Seriously – he likes these.

I think that all parents, sooner or later, believe they are the worst parents in the world. Or sometimes, perhaps, they think that they are perceived as the worst parents in the world. And, I have to say, sometimes they really *are* the worst parents in the world…but normally those who feel that way are anything but the worst – because to truly be the worst, they would have to see nothing wrong with their parenting, right? See how that works?

Image this scenario, though: a family of three (mother, father, son) goes to an ice cream shop. The mother and father order bowls of ice cream. They get nothing for their son. The woman behind the counter asks if he wants anything, and the parents say, “No, he doesn’t like ice cream.”

Now imagine this scenario: the same family goes to a toy store. They wander the aisles, repeatedly asking their son, “Do you want this? Do you want this?” He says “no” every time, and if they attempt to put something in their cart, he forcibly removes it and returns it to the shelf. When they check out, the only thing they have purchased is something for the parents. The cashier asks, “Does he like [fill in toy name here]?” The parents say, “Uh, no, that’s for us.”

This is what it’s like whenever we take our son out. He does not like ice cream. Honest. We’ve tried to get him to eat it repeatedly, and even if we can get him to try it, he refuses it the minute he lets it touch his lips. The basic rule is that if you need a spoon to eat it, he won’t like it or be willing to try/eat it. He also never wants things when we go out. We will walk through Target, through Toys R Us, through any place you can think of, and each time we ask him if he wants something, he says no. If we think he may like it and try to buy it – or if we try to buy something for ourselves that he thinks is for him – he will reach in the cart and return it to the shelf, over our protests.

It feels pretty horrible to constantly be told that you cannot buy anything for your child. By your child.

But that’s also why, when he asks for something, we buy it for him. It’s so few and far between that we’re always shocked when it happens, but we never waste any time in getting it for him. Admittedly, he often gets the toy home and then ignores it, never to touch it again. That’s okay, though, because at least we got to buy him something that he wanted and gave him a gift that he liked, even if it’s only for a little while.

So the other day, we were at the dollar store. He had rejected everything we had offered – he loves their paper/drawing pads, and we always stock up on those, but he hates their crayons because they’re not Crayola. He’s a massive Crayola snob. But this time, he didn’t even want paper. Everything was met with a “no.” Until we got into the line. Then he wandered over to the quarter machines at the front of the store and started trying to make the one with glittery stickers work. He got the idea – you shove the little metal thing into it – but he didn’t have any quarters, so clearly nothing was coming out. I dug through my wallet, found two quarters, and handed them over. He slide the slid, and wham, out came a set of what had to be pretty much the ugliest stickers of dogs in the world. Super ugly stickers. And he was thrilled.

Now, Simon has a very clear idea of what to do with a sticker. He puts it on his arm. I have no idea why this is. But every time he has a sticker, he peels it off the backing, slaps it on his arm, and keeps it there for most of a day. He does it when he gets them at the doctor’s office or when he gets one at the grocery store at the check-out. And he did it with these. The ugly little glittery dog stayed on his arm for most of the day, only to come off when it was bath and bed time.

I’m not sure if we’re really the worst parents in the world or not, but I think that letting him wear that ugly dog sticker might rank us pretty high up there.