Graduate Student Barbie

Just like you, only crazier.

A couple of weeks ago I saw a blog post about Graduate School Barbie.  If you have gone to graduate school and have not yet read it, you really should.  It is brutally honest, still very funny.  For those of you who went the "Real Job Skipper" route, it will probably make you glad you made the decision you did.

I have finished up but a friend of mine (bless her heart) is still in the midst of the torture process, so I sent her the page.  We had some great laughs about the whole thing, but in particular, we enjoyed the following passage:

"Grad School Barbie's Medicine Cabinet comes in Fabulous (pepto-bismal) pink and contains Barbie sized bottles of Advil, St. Johns Wort, Zantac, and your choice of three fun anti-anxiety drugs! (Barbie Medicine Cabinet not available without a prescription)."

It reminded us of a very funny moment from school.  We were talking to a female professor about something, and for reasons that neither of us remember, the conversation turned to anti-anxiety medication.  I think we were joking about another student who we referred to as "needing a medication adjustment."  The professor seemed surprised that this guy was on meds.  My friend and I laughed and acknowledged that we were on medication, too. 

Our professor was even more surprised at this point, and asked "Are ALL of the grad students on medication?"

I don't remember which one of us said "All of the ones that are successful!" 

Ah, grad school.  We laughed and laughed.  And cried and cried.  Some of the best (and worst) years of my life, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Don't Pet the Goldfish

Swim for your life, Dude!  That kid is here again!

Years ago, when our boys were about 6 years old, I was talking to my friend on the phone.  She was pretty irritated, telling me about her son's friend who had been at the house.  She walked into her son's room and saw the friend with his hand in the goldfish bowl. 

She said, "What are you doing?!?!"

He said, rather calmly, "I'm petting the goldfish."

She yelled at him that it wasn't a very nice thing to do to the fish, and his response?

"You never told me not to pet the goldfish."

Really, kid?  Do you NEED to be told not to pet the goldfish?

Since then, the phrase 'Don't pet the goldfish' has become a bit of a mantra for us. 

So, as we are about to go forth into a new year, my advice to you is to never be the kind of person who actually has to be told not to pet the goldfish.

From Monkey Butt to Monkey Brains

I while back, I blogged about a product I found called Anti Monkey Butt.

Well, a few days ago, I was at Wal-mart a super-classy, up-scale retail establishment and found Monkey Brains hair products.

(Does not contain actual monkey brains.)

A few comments, in no particular order:

• These items were NOT with the children's products. They were shelved with regular adult hair products.
• I did not think it was possible to make bananas look even more obscene, yet this packaging manages to do just that.
• I guess if you use "Grease Monkey Hair Pomade" you would have to use "Goop Out Shampoo" to clean up.
• I do not think I want anything with the word "Sticky" in my hair. Not"Super Sticky", and definitely not "Psycho Sticky." Kind of makes me picture the movie "There's Something about Mary."

As a service to the community, I will continue to be on the lookout for more monkey stuff.  Hey, what are friends for?

Ah, Structure, Thou Art a Heartless Bitch

Actual family calendar would have less 'white space'

One of our family's favorite shows is "The Big Bang Theory".  In one episode, Sheldon (who is widely believed to be an Aspie) says, "Ah, gravity, thou art a heartless bitch."

I feel the same way about structure.

All of us find comfort in structure.  The predictability means that we don't have to quickly adapt to unplanned scenarios.  Most of us, though, can muddle our way through the unforeseen, and may even enjoy the surprises along the way.

MOST of us.  Not so much with folks on the spectrum.

I saw a post on Facebook last night from a friend who was confessing to feeling like a terrible mother.  She was looking forward to going back to work today after the long Christmas weekend, primarily because it provided her with a break from her child.

Been there.  Done that.  Got the t-shirt.

Oh, yea.  Still there and still wearing the t-shirt.

Boo is 17, and Christmas break is still kind of rough.  He gets bored, starts acting up, gets fussed at (by me), then gets agitated.  When he gets agitated, his annoying unusual behaviors get more pronounced.  When the behaviors get worse, I lose my patience and fuss more.  I think we see the beginning of a pattern here.

Anyway, my message to those with younger kids is that it does get better.  He is old enough to amuse himself for longer periods of time, and can express that part of his problem is that he is bored.  He can read or play games for a few hours, and is more likely to go do things with his friends.

Yet, in the back of my mind is still this thought...8 more days until school resumes.  Hey, I said it gets better.  I didn't say it gets wonderful!

Author's note: As I was working on this, my favorite Autism Army Mom posted this.  Great minds think alike.  Or maybe we just go crazy together in sync.

P.S. The Onion has a great (sarcastic) piece on the need for structure for people with autism.  If you are not overly sensitive, you might get a kick out of it.  If you insist on political correctness, don't say you weren't warned.

Small Talk, Nerd Style

My "peeps".

One of the great things about having old friends come to visit is being reminded of forgotten memories. A former student of mine is here for the holidays.  She was working on her doctorate in engineering when she first met Boo, who was 9 at the time.

Like many single moms, when Boo was a kid I often had to take him to work with me.  Because I was in grad school and then worked in a University, Boo has always been surrounded by, well, kind of nerdy people.  I am one, too, so I really say it with love.

Anyway, my friend reminded me of one of Boo's little quirks from a few years ago...

Through the use of social stories, Boo had been taught a certain set of 'opening lines' as conversation starters.  Common ones they teach the kids have to do with asking people what types of games they like, or TV shows they watch.

Somehow, from hanging out with all of us nerds, he picked up a more unusual one: "So, what is your dissertation topic?" 

What is even funnier than an elementary-aged kid asking about a dissertation topic, is that everyone would always launch into a very animated discussion about their research, excited that someone would ask, and then actually listen to the answer.

It is interesting how well an Aspie fits into the engineering academic environment.

The "Night Before the Wedding" Talk

I know it seems kind of odd, but Christmas sometimes reminds me of a story about my parents' wedding. No, they were not married at Christmas. It was March.

So, why the association with Christmas?

Picture the setting: My grandparents' house, the late 1960's.

It is the night before my parents' wedding. My grandmother calls my mother into the bedroom...for 'the talk'.

My grandmother sits on the bed, and pats the bed next to her, signalling that my mother was to sit down.

My mother, probably wanting to die at this point, sits down.  And waits.

As we say in the south, my grandmother 'hems and haws' for a few minutes.  She finally takes a deep breath, my mother braces for the worst, and my grandmother blurts out:

"There is no Santa.  It has been me and your dad this whole time."

Then she gets up and leaves the room.

It is a bloody wonder that my brother and I were ever born.

Christmas Sweaters

Actor portrayal.  Not actual teacher.

A couple of weeks ago I posted an article on Facebook about Gaudy Christmas Sweaters making a comeback.

Boo's teacher from last year (who is one of our most favorite people!) commented on the link, telling me that the special ed department at his school has an ugly sweater contest every year.  She won last year and had already gotten what she believed would be the winning outfit again this year.  There is apparently a trophy at stake and she wants to keep it in her room for another year.

I had to ask her (as I 'LOL'ed) how many of the kids even realized that the teachers were trying to look silly.  After all, this is a small, rural, Midwest town.  You can see some fairly ugly sweaters on the Walmart shoppers pretty much year round.

Then she sent me a picture of her wearing her 'winning' outfit.  Oh, boy.  It was pretty special.  The red sweater had giant snowflake happy faces and a faux-fur collar.  The read and white checkered skirt reminded me of a Christmas tablecloth at an Italian restaurant.  One of her colleagues commented that it was too bad the picture was not a full-length shot since the shoes 'made the outfit'.  I can hardly imagine!

Anyway, so while I was looking at the picture on my computer, Boo walked in.  He came over, saw the picture, and said "Hey, that's Mrs. V.  She got that outfit for Christmas last year."  Then he walked away without any further explanation.

While I was impressed that he remembered the outfit from last year, I had to laugh about how he said it.  As if she had received it as a gift, rather then wearing it as a joke.

I guess that's why we don't ask teenaged boys on the spectrum for fashion advice!