This is a sketch of the area in the garden that we cordoned off for the dogs. 
A photograph would have been quicker but then you'd also see the mess, so this is the cleaned up version.
This week we have Bella, Thatcher's sister visiting us. 
She's littler but the same age, and clipped. In the first sketch above, I see a neat square that will give her time to acclimatize, but I don't see with a dog's eyes.
This is what a dog sees:-
What a twit I am. Come and visit "Nonna" to view more ways in which I demonstrate "twitishness." That really should be a word.
We chat on the way to the supermarket in the car. It is a proper chat because it is not about Pokemon. Who ever thought that we would ever enjoy a casual chat! The casual chat has been instigated by me, because I wish to distract from the imminent torture of the supermarket. It’s a thoroughly delightful new tactic. The chat is also prompted by the Brain Quest Third Grade (3rd Edition). As they are about to enter 4th and 5th grades in the Fall it is obvious that they are both well below grade level academically. When they were little, the answers were easy but the words were difficult. Now the answers are elusive but the words flow much more freely. All too often I find that as one thing advances another recedes, it’s a trade off. I believe it’s quite common. You can see it in "John Elder Robison’s" book called “Look me in the Eye.” When John was little he had extraordinary talents but as an adult those skills were unavailable to him. The chat comes to an abrupt halt.
“Lets not talk about it any more.”
“Why dear?”
“Coz I don wanna talk about dah future.”
“How come?”
“Coz I worry about dah future.”
“What is there to worry about?”
“My babies.”
“What babies?”
“My children.”
“But you don’t have any children yet.”
“I know and I’m worried I’m not gonna have any.”
“Why won’t you have any?”
“Coz of dah married bit.”
“The married bit?”
“No-one’s gonna wanna marry me.”
“Oh no, you’re quite wrong there. I’m absolutely sure that there’s someone out there for you, just the right one.”
“But I can’t do it.”
“Er…..do what dear?”
“Dah slow dancing.”
“Slow dancing! I don’t think that’s very important. Not everyone likes to dance. Anyway, you’re so good at fast dancing and robot dancing. Lots of people like that too.”
“Dya think?”
“Indeed I do!”
“No…..dya think dat…….one day when I am all grown up dat I will be being……a…da, .a… da, …..a…da…...”
“Be what dear? A dad?”
“Adorable?”
After losing "11,000 words" into the ether I am more than severely miffed. So I’ll just share a quicky whilst I play catch up.
I’m not sure if it’s an American thing or a Californian thing but I think the whole world recognizes it. You have to imagine a teenage girl, an American of course. She is probably dressed in whatever is the current fashion for teenage girls and wears a whole heap of attitude. It’s an attitude full of confidence and entitlement. It’s encapsulated in a Bratz doll but I believe it’s universal. These young women have a few stock phrases which they exchange with other young women of their ilk. They all understand each other although these few phrases may seem like an overly brief shorthand to an older generation. Can you see it? Can you hear it? Are we on the same page?
So, I come bounding down the stairs and bowl into the kitchen where I see my son standing on the counter in bare feet, legs astride with both hands clutching a cereal bowl. I am just about to launch into my well worn and slightly tedious script when he cuts me off. I hear it, a little voice with a big attitude, “hello! Need a lil help here!”
And don't forget to add your name to the "book giveaway."
Spoiler:
This is not a book where everyone lives happily ever after.
If you write and publish a book about your personal life you automatically expose yourself to criticism. If you write an accurate and honest account of your personal life, warts and all, you expose yourself to even greater criticism. So I shall be the first to launch the attack.
But let’s back up a bit. Let’s be frank here. There are so many books on the subject of autism, a deluge, that it’s sometimes hard to spot the good ones. These days I positively avoid reading anything about autism as I am heartily sick to death of all the tales of woe and misery. I also dislike warped distortions of autism where everything is fun and games. I’m looking for balance and realism.
But I digress. Back to Laura and her book “A Regular Guy,” growing up with autism, a family’s story of love and acceptance.
It’s a promising start.
The book starts at the beginning and the story gradually develops chronologically but before too long, it becomes all too obvious:-
Laura is a big ol’ cry baby!
There!
It seems that every few pages she bursts into tears. She doesn’t know the meaning of ‘emotionally repressed,’ or if she does, she certainly doesn’t put it into practice. But that’s because Laura is a good sharer and a truth teller, a fairly heady combination. Bear in mind that every few pages represents a skip in time which considerably reduces her ‘year per weeping ratio,’ especially if you compare it to her ‘laughter per day ratio.’ She has cartloads of that too. More importantly, her ready wit, private asides and singular voice must surely touch even the most callous of readers, such as myself.
I suspect I know the reason why Laura is apt to blub so often. I’d posit an idea that doesn’t receive much air time. It goes like this:- you become a parent of a child and have great expectations. Sometime after that you become a parent with different expectations. Sometimes that transition merely warrants a one liner for some parents.
Good luck to them.
Others share their journey of a life time, in many chapters. As often as not, this is captured in the term ‘emotional rollercoaster.’ Thus far all is well and good, within our range of comprehension. The bit that’s left out, is the everything else. Everything else isn’t just family, friends and community, it is just that, the everything else. The autism experience does not exist in a vacuum, the roller coaster is in full swing, but the world keeps turning. There are jobs and careers, commitments, finance, paperwork, all the daily detritus of life either piling up or dealt with. Either way the pressure is on and doesn’t let up. The cliché of the human existence is that at the end of the day we dwell upon the things we did not do, or the things we could have done better or that we did badly, before it all begins again the next day. These days go on forever because we cannot escape life to focus on autism exclusively. Autism has to fit in with everything else and often it doesn’t.
It is the ability to live in these two worlds at the same time, to help them fit together better that takes determination, strength and stamina. This is what parental responsibility is all about, we have to be grown ups. As grown ups we juggle all these different things, we manage, and some people excel. In the midst of the permanent juggling act, something additional falls into the mix, something tiny, something huge, something unexpected and you have a choice, burst into tears or laugh your head off. The ability to do either or sometimes both, is the path to survival and Laura demonstrates this with perfection. It’s hard to encapsulate life with autism, but this may be as close a picture as possible.
Spoiler :-
This is a book were everyone continues to live their lives to the fullest.
Available from "Amazon" with more details "here." Here's a less biased "review."
And where would that be I wonder? And I wonder a lot. There’s a lot of wonder around because we are currently enjoying an abundant harvest of words and phrases. Complicated words and a lot of pithy phrases. As often as not, it’s quite enchanting. I consider myself to be a reasonable conversationalist, given ideal circumstances, but when the ideal circumstances evaporate I find I am on more tricky terrain. The trouble with conversation is that it is so interwoven with social skills. You can have all the right words but unless you’re good at sewing, the effect can be very patchy, though none the less charming.
So we are busy, early in the morning, when words often flow more freely. I gather the troops for breakfast where a heated discussion ensues regarding the inferior menu. I am in mid sentence when my son interjects, “so mom?” I pause for breath and look at him because his eyes and attention are upon me. Such a treat.
“Yes dear?”
“So…….since we’re on the subject of clay….”
Clay? But it’s such a perfect interruption, just the right tone, just the right bright inflection, flawless. “Meet Claydol!” he flourishes as he whips a Pokemon trading card into my field of vision. Sold to the mum with feet of clay in fluffy slippers.
I hold it up so that all 5 of the adults in the house have a clear view.
“See this?”
“Yup. What about it? What is it?”
“Guess?”
“It’s a hose…….vacuum hose.”
“Right.”
“So?”
“If you see it anywhere, anywhere at all, nab it. I need it.”
“?”
“I can’t keep the dog hair and car fur under control without it if the asthmatics are going to survive another 24 hours.”
“?”
“He keeps swiping it. Pulls the hoover out of the closet and takes off the hose.”
“Why? What on earth is he on now?”
“It’s his tail.”
“Tail?”
“He’s still ‘part cat.’”
“What has being ‘part cat’ got to do with taking the vacuum hose?”
“He’s morphed. No longer is he ‘part cat’ now he is ‘robocat. Teamwork! A united front! I need your help!”
“Hmmm…….. pity you can’t whip out his battery when he’s not looking!”
p.s. dear chums and pals, I have searched in vain for blogs where people’s lives are affected by "Alzheimer’s" or "Dementia," admittedly briefly, and do you know what, I can’t find any. A long time ago I doubted that there were any blogs about autism, but of course there are loads. If you happen to come across any blogs on the former topic I should be most grateful if you could tip me off / give me a shove in the right direction as we all know that the support of an online community is a big boost to the morale.
Conversation can be a little stilted around here despite all the speech therapy, practice and encouragement. Whilst we’re lucky that their receptive language, what they understand, is so much better than their expressive language, what they are able to articulate, it still doesn’t come easy. The latest campaign regarding table manners and prepositions flounders, primarily because by dinner time my ability to make things fun is a bit feeble. On the other hand the reading campaign is an undoubted success. Although they prefer cartoon strips given a choice, it’s a choice that’s just fine by me. That said the new trend is most disconcerting. The new trend consists of expressing emotions verbally, straight from the cartoons. Things like ‘zoinks!’ for I’ve just had a bright idea, together with artificial hand gestures or ‘Ahhh EEEEE’ with bared teeth for ‘you surprised me and worst of all, ‘Sighhhhh’ together with a rapidly deflating body posture that says it all, and more. But we trundle on regardless.
“You see it there?”
Silence.
“The salt cellar?”
Silence.
“NEXT to the pepper, the brown one. See it?”
Silence.
“The white one?”
Silence. I attempt hand gestures for emphasis and clarity but merely achieve air traffic controller status, which is not generally helpful at the dinner table.
“Just BEHIND the water jug?”
“Remember our good table manners about passing things to people who can’t reach?”
Silence.
“You know……so they don’t have to stretch because stretching is rude.”
“Sighhhhhhh…..”
“Could you just reach out your hand to touch it?”
“Wot did your last slave die of?”
“!”
