Category: Autism Laughs

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I Have Come to the Conclusion That My Son is a Millennial…

He is a multi-tasker: He likes to watch TV, listen to his headphones and play with his vast collection of airplanes all at the same time.

He is connected: he would be devastated if the satellite  were down or if we didn’t have an emergency iPod.

He is Tech-savvy:  He can find the buttons on most devices and figure out how to get them to work in his favor.   Also known as  “The Button Pusher”

He wants instant gratification: When he wants something, he expects it immediately.

He believes that everything should be shared:  Especially if food is involved.

He is team-oriented: He cannot go anywhere without someone going with him.

He is over 25 and still lives at home, with no desire to ever move out.

So, I have come to the conclusion that it’s not autism…he is just a millennial.

Oh yeah, he thinks he is the center of my world…well, yeah, he has me there.

 

~ASM

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ISO A New Best Friend

ISO  Best friend, must have a great sense of humor, compassion, be intuitive and know how to “take it to the grave”.  Preferably a woman, with at least one child, bonus if the child has special needs, such as autism, extra bonus if said child is a young adult.

She must be able to differentiate between venting and literal meaning in regards to husband ranting.  If I say “I want to kill my husband” she needs to know weather to hand me bowl of ice cream, or to start Googling “How to get blood  out of the carpet without fading the color.”

She needs to be able cheer with me when my autistic child reaches a long overdo milestone, and not get grossed out when I talk about some of the not so pleasantries that come with being an autism mom.

She needs to be able to look at me and know that I NEED to get out of the house and have a girls day, because the overwhelming black cloud that follows me around, is getting so close that it’s starting to block out the sun. Or that I need  her to just bring her hubby and kids over with a board game and snacks for a communal gathering.

She cannot be judgmental, especially about the condition of my house if she drops in unexpectedly, or about my weight.  However, she needs to motivate me by saying  things such as “Your house smells great,  I think it’s the smell of the fabric softener lofting through the air, from the heaping pile of laundry on the couch, waiting to be folded.” and “Come on, get your sneakers on, I feel like a 2 mile walk n talk.”

She needs to be able to read between the lines, when I say things like “Mary’s daughter just had a baby,  Mary is now a Grandma!”  and know that what I am really saying is “How lucky Mary is, I envy her, I will never be a grandmother.”

She needs to be able to blurt out the lines to a movie or sing a bit of a song that pops into her head as it relates to our conversation.  Bonus if she can join in as I do it.

She needs to be able to get along with my family, and mix well with the white collars, blue collars and rednecks.

Above all, she needs to know that most of this information that I share with her, has to stay hidden in the room that I have created, because no one on the “outside” can ever know… they just wouldn’t understand.

This position is open until filled,  compensation will be matched accordingly.  Serious Inquiries only.

~ASM

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The Private Parts

When I was growing up we didn’t say certain words.   Those words were nonexistent in our home.  Private parts were not talked about.  I vividly remember riding my brother’s bike…remember banana seats?  Remember how you would slide off of it, like butter in a cast iron pan? Well, I slid off the seat…on a boy’s bike.   The memory I have, isn’t  the actual slip-up (or down as the case may be) but of telling my mother that “it hurts where I pee from”.
I made a promise to myself that my children would never feel embarrassment from having to discuss any body part.  Now, mind you, I didn’t want them yelling out as if in a Kindergarten Cop movie.  But I certainly, didn’t want them to not be able to talk to me openly.   So I decided to compromise (because, as you can see, I am still not very comfortable saying those “dirty” words).
What I came up with was “pee-er”   Boy and girls can have pee-ers.  (and yes, as they got older, I planned on using the correct terminology). And there’s a fly on my wall that gets quite a belly laugh out of me yelling at my 25 year old son to “PUT YOUR PEE-ER AWAY…Nobody wants to see that!!!”
So fast forward to Buddy at about 5 years old.  We were in the process of attempting potty training (which failed).  We were also in the process of training a new service provider. (which I hate to this day)
So here we are Buddy, the main provider and the new back up provider all in the bathroom.  I had told her that we call his boy part, a pee-er.
As I stood in the kitchen nearby, I heard the new provider say something, and I listened.   She said it again.   When they came out, I asked her what she had called it…she said “Pierre” …I started laughing as it all clicked in my head.    Pee-er sounded like Pierre which is French for “Peter”.  … “yes, yes” in French is  “oui, oui” (pronounced “wee wee”).  Even now, nearly 20 years later, I still get a little giggle out of it, and wonder… if I could find a little beret, would Buddy keep his Pierre covered?
~ASM