Jonesin’ for the Jig

The little boy is enamored of arms.  For months now, he has been fascinated with freckles and veins and moles and anything that sets an arm apart from the one next to it.  He likes to study these things.

Mostly, it’s kind of charming.  He is gentle and sweet and genuinely interested in the differences between us and himself.

Sometimes though, it’s sort of annoying.  My arms are not my best feature, you know?  I don’t really want him to point them out in public, much less unexpectedly reach his hand up my sleeve and shake them.  😐

To combat this unwanted activity, I started pulling him close and threatening “if you jiggle me, then I tickle you!”  It stopped him about three times. 

Now he has, in fact, used the word “jiggle” to nickname my arm.  And his dad’s arm too. (Though dad’s doesn’t actually jiggle.)

Funny, right?

Um…well…no.  No.

Okay, it’s a little funny.

A few weeks ago he came up to me, his eyes full of love for my fleshy underarm, and he said “Thomas hug the jig?”

Seriously?  I don’t even get the rest of the word, now?

My husband and I both laughed, but I don’t know.  It just sounds wrong or something, doesn’t it?

Well, whatever, that’s what he says now.  My arm is “the jig.”  More specifically, the squishy, unfit, underside of my upper arm is called “the jig.”

Oh, and “tickle puff.”  Sometimes he just calls it “tickle puff.”

The thing is…

the boy has eyes for other arms too.

He just likes to hug people, you know?  He sees their bare skin and he smiles.  He is fascinated and wants to wrap himself around them and just hug.

Most of the teachers and aides who know him at school are fine with his latest obsession.  None of them seem to mind this extra attention from my smiling boy.

The other parents?  Well, I’m not so sure about them.  I don’t think any of them would be troubled by an accidental nudge from a stray kid, but fawning adoration of a specific body part?  I don’t think they would be too welcoming of that.  They don’t know him.  They don’t know that he’s harmless and sweet.

Every morning as we stand in the line for his classroom, my son eyeballs the arriving parents.

It’s hot in August and all those mamas have on tank tops and spaghetti straps and short sleeves.

My son is fascinated.  He smiles, he laughs, he looks, he really wants to hug.

Today, one of the moms I’ve never met (and whom I’m a little put off by, actually 😐 ) showed up in a strapless sundress.  Oy.  She sat at the picnic tables with the kids who were eating breakfast.

Nothing happened, but only because I never took my eyes off of my son.

He skipped up to the tables, deftly weaved between the other kids and was standing next to strapless mama in about two seconds flat.

Her back was to him, so she never knew that she almost got an arm squeeze.

I called him back before he did it and tried to explain that he couldn’t hug just any jiggling arm.

I don’t know if my words made sense to him or not.  I’m guessing not, since I’ve told him this same information every day for several weeks and nothing has changed.

We get to school, we stand in line, and the boy starts jonesin’ for some jig.

Watch this space…

Next month, he’ll have a new obsession.

Sweet potato.  🙂

As I typed this, he wouldn’t leave my arm alone.  Just now he asked me “Thomas hug the jiggy?”

Thank goodness!

I got some letters back.  😀

P.S.  Those pix above are from our weekly IHOP visit.

P. P.S. Husband is making little changes in the yard this week.  I’ll post a few pix in the next day or two.  For now, look what I brought in to put on the counter.  I love, love, love the bright orange.

Happy Tuesday!

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A Little Relief, Please

I left the school in tears again today.

The little boy started out happy and was looking forward to his morning run with his classmates.  But there was an assembly scheduled first thing, so they didn’t do the laps.  My son had a complete meltdown.

After ten minutes of trying to calm him and offering to run with him myself, I realized I had to leave and let the aides deal with whatever he dished out.  It killed me to walk away while he was so distraught, but I had to.

I drove to a thrift store.  Browsing there would cheer me up.

There was a man in the store who reminded me of Willie Nelson, partly because of his looks, partly because he had a lovely southern accent and gentlemanly way about his speech, but mostly because he was singing.

He wandered through the store much like I did, only extroverted and conversational with everyone he passed.  The last word or two of each sentence he heard reminded him of a song which he would then happily sing as he browsed some more.  Hymns, carols, interesting old country hits, he knew all the words and he carried the tunes.

He walked and looked and found more clerks and customers with whom to exchange pleasantries.  With each of them, he found a new song.  And he had a lovely voice.  A lovely, homey, comfortable, Willie Nelson voice.  And I love Willie Nelson.

But I was in my autism fog, blue and teary, with a lump in my throat and no courage in my demeanor.   I didn’t want to be one of the people this man spoke to.  I didn’t want to be one of his songs.  So I had to navigate through the store carefully, being small and quiet.  And I’m not very good at that, so it stressed me out.  Lovely song man stressed me out.  And made me stay in the store longer than I wanted, just so I could avoid him.

Once I finally made my escape, I headed to the grocery store.  That was rife with even more awkward social moments.  I still can’t believe I asked a twenty-year-old produce boy if he had fresh zucchini.  😳

My mind raced this morning – everywhere I try not to let it go.

When I got back into my car, I flipped on the radio and was annoyed to find Gloria Penner at the Editor’s Roundtable, discussing unemployment.  I usually love Gloria Penner and the editors too, but people without work at Christmastime?  Too depressing for me today.  I pushed another button.  I thought music might boost my mood.

Nope.  It didn’t.  Four more stations – all playing sad ballads or songs of despair.  I wanted a lift, you know?  I wanted something to pull me from my melancholia.  I’m not the type to indulge the sad music.  I was looking for a way out of that.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I could turn to a Spanish station.  I understand a lot, but I probably wouldn’t be able to translate lyrics fast enough to be bothered by them.  I could tune out the words and just hear something musical and cheery.  Fighting back a fresh wave of mom tears, I pushed another button on the radio.

I sold myself short.  I understood every word.  And do you know what they were talking about on the Spanish language station when I tuned in?  Oh, you will never guess.

Sangre.  That’s what.  Sangre en el papel y en la taza.  Sangre de hemorroides.

Seriously?

I’m depressed.  I’m looking for something to cheer me up and these people are talking about hemorrhoids on the radio.

Hemorrhoids.

Pain, itch, general discomfort and sangre.

In Spanish.

On the radio.

Well, what do you know?

That cracked me up!  No pun intended.

I laughed in Spanish too.

Ha!

Happy Friday!

I’ve lost track of my photos, so if these are duplicates, I apologize!  😀

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♥♥

A Nice Blog And Greatly

Today’s spam comments made me laugh, so I thought I’d share them:

hello bockychoy , i read your blog , that a nice blog and greatly. Good for everyone. best review for and Jack-o-Lantern content. i will plan to read and comment your website.”

“hello bockychoy , i read your blog , be a nice blog and perfect. Good for everyone. useful and piano content. i going to visit to read and comment your blog.”

Are you laughing too?  😀

Last week, I set the dvr to record Amelie.  I finally had a chance to see it yesterday.  I love, love, LOVE this movie.  And I’m so glad I watched it with subtitles instead of dubbing.  I might have to watch it again today.  Have you seen it?  What do you think?  I think after this life, I’d like to come back as Audrey Tautou – beautiful, quirky, charming.  Sigh.

Day Seventeen 2010 Pumpkin Demise

The new life in pumpkinville doesn’t look as green and determined as it did yesterday.  I’m thinking that slug probably snuck in there and chewed off the new growth from the bottom up.  Oh well, even slugs have to eat, right?  I’m sure another little sprout of something will show itself in due time.

It’s funny that I took that picture of my shoes yesterday, because a few hours later, I retired them, with no forethought whatsoever.  Now I have their shiny new cousins – same brand, same style, but cleaner, whiter, better and less embarrassing to remove in front of someone who will be looking closely at your feet.

Anyhoo, here is today’s squash rot.  And just in case you don’t recall where we started, I threw in a picture from Day One for your viewing pleasure.

There are also a few of the little boy’s chalk drawings.  He is ready for Christmas.  🙂

Enjoy!

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Happy Wednesday!

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#13 – Things I sorta already knew…

but learned again this month:

  1. If you don’t have giant bandaids, you can use a bandana to tie a kotex to your husband’s hand when he burns his skin late at night and wants to protect it while he sleeps.
  2. If you need a new patio table, one will magically appear at your front door.  Behind it, you will find giant birthday cupcakes (see pic) and a card from a visiting (and quite spectacular) friend.  Thank you, Christine!
  3. If you accidentally toss a heap of lantana clippings into the blue bin instead of the green bin, you will be really upset with yourself when you also pour a container full of broken bottles, dented cans and wet cardboard in on top of them.  Dumb.  Dirty.  Tedious and icky to correct.
  4. If you don’t write something on your blog at least five days a week, you will forget how and your drafts will threaten to outnumber your published pieces.
  5. If you really need a break from the house and long to indulge in a little guilt-free impulse shopping, a friend will suddenly appear with an Anthropologie gift card for your birthday.  Thank you, SarahHUHlita!
  6. Everyone should have three moms.  😀 😀 😀
  7. If you sign up for every restaurant e-club out there, you will get a lot of free meals around your birthday.
  8. The little boy does better with pictures.  For everything.
  9. You can’t finish your list unless you take a cheerios break when you get to number nine.
  10. Sitting in commute traffic sucks even more for a low blood sugar autistic seven-year-old than it does for me.  “No zero.  No zero.  Yes sixty.”
  11. Oil covered wildlife is sad and wrong and makes me teary.  (Don’t look, mom.)
  12. I want to see Toy Story 3 more than my child does.
  13. If you are patient enough, you will realize that the odd looking tomato in the corner is actually a yellow heirloom variety and not a red one gone wrong.
  14. If you are smart enough, you will take your salt shaker into the yard, eat the yellow tomato right from the vine, and feel more privileged than any diner who ever lived.
  15. Support for Obama will wax and wane, but I will always believe that he is a good man who is trying very hard to do what’s best.
  16. If you keep forgetting to take your child for a haircut, the hair will not stop growing to wait for you.
  17. You don’t have to pile into the car to entertain your kid.  Sometimes, riding a scooter to the park around the corner is the best thing ever.  Really, ever.

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