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!

Christmas "Loves"? Not So Much...

Wrong.  Just wrong.

So, I covered many of the things I love about Christmas.  Now it is time to present a few things I could live without.

Here are some very bad Christmas songs...  

• Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. 
• Dominick the Donkey. (Possibly one of the worst songs EVER.) 
• Jingle Bells, when barked by dogs. 
• The Chipmonk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) 
• I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas (I just noticed an 'animal' theme in my list.)

Trust me.  It takes a lot for me to really hate a Christmas song.  Even after this rendition by Peter from Family Guy, I still love Carol of the Bells.

Not a fan of random items with Santa on them...

• such as the toilet above.  I wonder how Santa feels about that.  If I was Santa, I would be pissed.  (tee hee hee...)
• underwear that is meant to be 'naughty'.  'Funny undies' I am fine with, but let's not go X-rated with St. Nick, ok?

I strongly dislike having to shop anywhere for anything, even the grocery store.

And what do I hate the most? (cue drum roll)

Two words: turkey carcass.

My Christmas "Loves"

If I could fit this in my house, I would be a very happy woman!

I know it is sappy, but I LOVE this time of year.  I already discussed the Christmas of my youth, but I still get as excited as a kid about so many things.

I love the sounds...

• the Salvation Army bell ringers in front of store.
• almost all Christmas carols.  I especially love the older ones popular with carolers.
• a house full of people laughing.
• the glee of a small child when they finally spot Santa at the mall.

I love the smells...

• Gluhwein, because it reminds me of walking downtown when I lived in Wiesbaden.
• cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and pretty much any food that contains them.  Those are my favorite type of candle, too.
• a real Christmas tree.  I hate vacuuming up the needles out of the carpet until February (or March), but I can't give up the way it makes my house smell.

I love the movies...

• A Christmas Story ("You'll shoot your eye out!"  "It's a major award!")
• Christmas Vacation ("Merry Christmas. Shitter was full." - best/worst movie line EVER!)
• A Charlie Brown Christmas (I love Linus' monologue at the end.  Don't judge.)

I love the tastes...

• candy canes, peppermints, peppermint bark, etc.
• gingersnaps, gingerbread (especially a recipe that I have from my aunt.  I need to post that sometime.)
• those Brach's hard 'ribbon' candies.
• Terry's Chocolate Orange Ball (Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate, Toffee Crunch...I'm not picky.)
• warm apple cider, full of spice, especially if you can see cinnamon sticks and whole cloves floating in it.
• sweet potatoes.  I figured I should add something nutritious to the list!

 I love the sights...

• lights, of all kinds.  I like lights on trees, houses, professional displays, and even when a student just puts a string around their dorm window.
• bright wrapping paper.
• gingerbread houses.
• the delightfully tacky things kids make at school and bring home.  (Maybe I can find a picture of the wreath my kid made out of toilet paper cardboard rolls.  Charming.)

I am feeling TOO warm and fuzzy now.  I guess next I will need to post about the things I could live without this time of year!

Raymond Briggs' The Snowman

When Boo was about 4 or 5, my friend Stacy gave him the movie "The Snowman."  To be honest, I had never heard of it before.  I was raised, of course, on all of the classics that are shown on TV every year: "Frosty the Snowman", "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", "A Charlie Brown Christmas". etc., but this was a new one for me.

When Stacy gave him the movie, she told me she thought it would be a good movie for us.  OK, whatever that means :)

It really is the most amazing movie, especially for kids who are easily overstimulated.  The only talking is a sentence or two in the opening scene.  After that, it is very soothing music, beautiful animation, and NO annoying songs for a kid to fixate on!

Boo was hooked the first time he saw it.  FYI - there is a scene in the beginning when the boy is changing clothes so we get a one-second glimpse at his butt (always good for a chuckle), and when they get to the North Pole the snowmen have mugs of beer that are Oktoberfest-worthy.

When he was young, we would watch it almost every day during the holiday season.  I would even put it in sometimes during the rest of the year if he was very agitated.  It had an almost hypnotic effect.  And frankly, it was pretty relaxing for me, too!

Still, it is 26 minutes long - the perfect length for getting a few chores done but you aren't held hostage for an hour and a half!

Track Him Through His Cell Phone? Not Necessary

Many parents of teens track their kids through the modern miracle of a GPS in their cell phone.  I do not know how to do this.  Despite my engineering degrees, I sometimes struggle with what I refer to as 'the practical application of technology'.  In other words, I can't figure out how to work the dad-gum thing.

I'm sure I could figure it out if I really tried, but I have never had the motivation.

Like most Aspies, Boo sadly has almost no social life.  This has improved tremendously, though, the past few years, as his teachers at school have encouraged him to become more involved in extra-curricular activities.  (See this post, towards the bottom, to see how much I love his teachers!)

Since he does not drive yet, I have to pick him up when he returns to the school after events.  He isn't very good at estimating an arrival time, so he texts me at specified points in the evening, such as when they get back on the bus, when they get off the interstate, etc.

So, last night Boo was at an out-of-town activity.  He texted me to tell me he was on the bus and had had a great night.  After a while, I was curious as to where they were, and he said that the bus wasn't moving yet.  Once they did get underway, he let me know.

Since my husband and I were out to eat, we wanted to get an idea of how much time we had left.  I decided to ask what Interstate mile-marker the bus was at, and I could estimate an ETA. 

This is what I got:

Yes, he was providing me with real-time data on his travel progress.

I would like to think that this was sarcasm on his part, but I don't really know.  Perhaps I don't really want to know!

Still, with details like this, who needs to use a GPS with him?

Where IS Bikini Bottom?

Is it just me, or could he be trippin'?

Boo used to be a HUGE SpongeBob fan.  He probably still would be if I let him.  Time to let it go, kid.  Time to Let. It. Go.

One year, when he was still a fan, he was scheduled to go on a several-day field trip to a marine biology facility in southern Alabama.

Then, as often happens in life, a hurricane hit.  This time it was an actual hurricane, though, rather than just the random stuff life throws at you.

Since school was cancelled for the day, I had to take him to work with me.  Good times. 

My boss, attempting to make conversation with Boo, asked him if he was worried about SpongeBob.

Boo, looking at him like he was stupid, said "No. Why should I be?"

"Because of the hurricane.  Are you worried about Bikini Bottom getting damaged?"  (Let me interject for a minute here...is it really a good idea to plant the idea in a spectrum kid's brain that their favorite cartoon character might be in mortal danger?)

Boo: "Why would I be worried about Bikini Bottom?"  (About now, I was beginning to think that he had a better grasp on fiction vs. reality than I had originally thought.)

"Because of the hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico."  (Again, let it go, dude, before the kid loses it!)

"Bikini Bottom is in the Pacific Ocean.  Not the Gulf of Mexico."  (I had not recalled the cartoon ever mentioning the Pacific Ocean, but I didn't spend NEARLY as much time watching it as he did.)

Apparently, my boss was not aware of this geography either and said, "Really?  I didn't know that."

Boo, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, said "Stephen Hillenburg, the creator of SpongeBob is from Encino, California.  California is by the Pacific Ocean.  Therefore, Bikini Bottom is in the Pacific Ocean, NOT the Gulf of Mexico."  Then he walked off, apparently disgusted by the total ignorance of the people in his life.

As soon as he was out of earshot, we both busted out laughing.

For years after that, my boss used to tell the graduate students that story and say that as soon as they could defend their dissertation with that kind of logic and conviction, they were ready to get their Ph.D.

Why Gingerbread Sometimes Makes Me Sad

I grew up in Germany.  (It was West Germany at the time.  Yes, I am old.)  I am not German, but my dad was in the military.  Even as a kid I knew that it was a very special experience.  I met my husband there...a story for a different time. Anyway, over the past few years, I have reconnected with many of my fellow military brats through Facebook.  We talk about about where we are now in our lives (physically, professionally, emotionally, spiritually...), and we talk about what we miss most about living there.

 Recently a friend posted the following picture of me on Facebook:

Yes, I have always had a keen eye for fashion.

It was taken on the train, on our way to the Christkindlesmarkt in Nuremberg, Germany.  How do I know it was on the way there, and not back?  Well, I don't know for sure, but given all the candy I tended to eat while I was there, I suspect I was not smiling as much on the trip back.

Every year we took a field trip there.  We all went to the Bahnhof, piled on the train, there was always a big 'boombox' or two, and disco (yes, disco) would be blaring down the train.  I particularly remember "Good Times" by Chic.  Yes, those were very 'good times'.

When I was at Aldi the other day, I bought Dark Chocolate Covered Gingerbread.  Gingerbread, particularly if it is more savory than sweet, is a very German dessert.  It brings back a flood of sense-memories...Gluhwein, roasted nuts, Christmas carols, twinkling lights.

I know that while I look at that picture, eat my gingerbread, and hear "Good Times" in my head, I should be thrilled that I had such wonderful experiences in my youth.  And that I have managed to reconnect with my old friends so we can get nostalgic together.

Still, I can't help but get a little homesick.

I miss Christmas in Germany.  And I miss my friends.

*****

If you want to read more about the Christkindlesmarkt, below are links in both English and German.

http://www.christkindlesmarkt.de/english/

http://www.christkindlesmarkt.de/

These pictures are not mine, but they are beautiful, and much like I remember it...

Excuse me? WHAT did you just say?!?!

Ever have one of those conversations with someone where you can't remember how it started, but at some point you can't believe what you are hearing?  Given that I have an Aspie kid, I have those with him quite frequently, but when it happens with others it can catch me by surprise.

My husband and I were cleaning the house before we had company for the holidays and he made a reference to the downstairs 'Dungeon".  Boo's domain.  Home of the gas-station bathroom.  The forbidden place where I descend as seldom as possible.

Cleaning up that disaster is a somewhat Herculean task for Boo since it involves a certain level of organization that he simply does not possess.  Therefore, I usually break it up into more manageable chunks for him. 

• Bring your dirty clothes upstairs.
• Bring the trash upstairs.
• Clean up your books.
• Clean up the bathroom, etc.

Anyway, on this particular day, something happened and my husband wanted to do something differently.  I don't remember what it was he wanted, but I commented that it wasn't the way Boo was used to doing it, so it probably wouldn't be a time- and energy-saver.

At which point, Albert makes the comment, "Well, he just needs to learn to improvise."

Seriously.  Improvise.  Not really something we associate with kids on the spectrum, is it?

I just put down what I was doing, looked him in the eye, and said, "You haven't read a single one of the things I gave you about Asperger's, have you?"

"No.  Why do you ask?"

"No reason, dear.  No reason at all."

*sigh*