Strangers and Santa, Unrelated

I have a post brewing in my head that might come out tonight or maybe tomorrow, but I thought I would just go ahead and share a couple of links to posts that I’ve written recently.

I wrote a post I really like about what to do when a stranger is rude to your child with autism at PokitDok. Please check it out!

I also wrote a post about, you know, that whole…thing…about Santa. I have some stress about it. Check out The Santa Lie over at White Knuckle Parenting.

Crazy Hair

Today was Crazy Hair Day at Quinn’s school, which was perfect because, well, Crazy Hair Day was made for Quinn.

Some kids put colors or glitter in their hair. Some shaped their hair into mohawks or wore funny wigs. The principal put her hair in several small ponytails all over her head (which was awesome, but distracting at the meeting I sat in with her today).

But Quinn? Well Quinn just made his hair a little bit EXTRA QUINN and he was good to go.

Quinn Einstein

He looked a little bit Einstein-y, which I approved of.

I will admit to teasing his hair a little bit, but I knew that it would settle into normal crazy. Quinn says that at some point during the day, he made his hair “good” again because he was tired of it being crazy. Honestly, I couldn’t tell the difference.

I brush that kid’s hair, like, twenty times a day. He is on a strict shampoo/conditioning regimen, but even so, there is something about his hair that rebels. It is fluffy at the same time as it is matted. It is…problematic. The back of his hair looks like this next photo no matter how many times a day I brush it.

the back of Quinn's head

I have this photo because Quinn wanted me to take it so he could see the red in the back of his hair. He is very vain, that Quinn.

That red hair is a big part of the reason why his hair is so out of control. If you say the words “haircut” in front of Quinn, he will immediately start screeching and clutch his hair and start yelling about wanting to keep the red.

(Red, Sherry. Red.) <—Sorry. Everyone but old college chum Sherry should ignore that.

See, Quinn has been getting crazy attention for his hair since he was a baby. Like, literally, he was four seconds old the first time someone commented on his hair. Consequently, he seems to think his hair is the source of all his power and refuses to have it cut.

At first I was on board with this, because I like long hair on boys (we all know that long-haired dudes are the coolest, right?), but then it got all Crazy Hair Day Is Every Day on us and I just want to take Sir Screams A Lot to get his hair cut, but now he won’t go.

I mean, really. He got home from school, I brushed his hair neatly to the side, he touched it once, and this is what happened:

Quinn's "neat" hair.

It’s shiny at least.

I don’t know if I have anything to add to this long treatise on Quinn’s hair other than HELP!, but I feel like I had to mention it, because it consumes about 38% of my mental energy at all times.

I do have one more thing to say on the subject of hair. I’ve been trying to not mention this, because it makes me seem rilly rilly shallow, but you know what I was really thankful for this Thanksgiving?

My hair. My hair used to be stick straight and then I had kids and it got curly, but weird curly and I’ve wanted to get it straightened for years, but it’s super expensive and I didn’t know if it would work and then a friend of mine found a place in my area that does Japanese hair straightening for less than it generally costs and I went and had it done and I have never been happier in my life.

My hair is like this whole other entity now that makes me so happy. People tell me my hair looks pretty and instead of being all modest and “Oh! Thanks!” I’m like, “I KNOW!! IT’S SUCH GOOD HAIR, ISN’T IT?!”

Life changing, people. Life changing.

This next photo is how my hair looks when I let it air dry. I don’t have to use a hairdryer or a flatiron or anything. I AM HAPPY ALL THE TIME NOW.

Thumbs up, Stimey!

That’s my thumb in the left corner being all, “This hair is GREAT, y’all!”

Phew. I feel better. I felt like I was keeping this big secret from you all because I hadn’t mentioned the GREAT NEW THING that had happened to me because it made me look like a narcissist, but it has entirely changed the way I feel about my head. Now I’ve told you about it and it’s done so I don’t have to mention it again. Thank you.

*****

In less shallow, but equally self-obsessed news, I wrote “Do I Have Asperger’s?—Adult Autism Diagnosis” about my Asperger’s diagnosis over at PokitDok. I write about this regularly because I get emails and messages all the time from people looking for diagnoses and when I was looking for how-to information a few months ago, it was really hard to find. Know that if you’ve been thinking you have Asperger’s and want a formal diagnosis, you aren’t alone. And feel free to email me. :)

Gala Blocked*

I was supposed to go to the Autistic Self Advocacy Network gala tonight. I tend to be a chronic panic canceler, so even though I had a lot of my usual anxiety about attending, I was determined to go.

SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t make it and I’m pretty upset about it.

I knew I was going to be late because I had an appointment that ended at 6 and the gala started at 6. I figured that I would be in DC, parked, and up at the gala by 7 though. I was okay with that. Fashionably late and all that, right?

SPOILER ALERT: Uggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!

I was not in the best mood to start off with because the appointment was with our family therapist and we were talking about some stuff that is not that big of a deal but that was emotional. Then I ran into a tremendous amount of traffic and I got angrier and more frustrated every time the same guy running on the sidewalk passed my car.

Regardless, I was still moving forward and by about 6:50 or so, I started to get confident that I would be at the gala by 7:15 or so. There was a fire engine approaching behind me, so I pulled over to let it pass because I am a good citizen.

It then stopped DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME, disgorged its firefighters, and stopped in the middle of the street. As the minutes passed, I started to consider parking and walking.

SPOILER ALERT: I was still too far away so I tweeted this picture instead to complain about what was keeping me from the gala. Note the parked cars on the right and the iron railing on the left.

SPOILER ALERT TO THE SPOILER ALERT: I wasn’t tweeting while driving. My car was actually in park at the time.

Whyyyyyyyyy??????

No escape.

You may notice that the GPS in the bottom right claims that I would arrive at 7:08. LIES. It had already told me that I was going to be there at 6:34. The closest I got to the gala location happened at 7:38.

Once the fire engine finally pulled away I tried to keep going to the gala. Normally I would have thrown in the towel, but I knew that I was headed to a kind room, so I keep trying. But then there was more traffic and then I missed a turn, which left me in more traffic, and I was getting closer and closer to a total meltdown, so finally, after the gala was already more than half over and I hadn’t even reached the location, let alone found a place to park, I took a sharp right, set my GPS for home, and bailed.

Basically what I did was take a two and a half hour, incredibly frustrating trip downtown and back without getting out of my car.

I kind of feel that I should have kept going and gone in. I know the good people in the room would have made me feel better, but I just couldn’t.

It was a really draining experience with the lesson that I should not be a good citizen ever again.

All of that is to say that I am really upset that I wasn’t able to go, and not in the mood to write a post (SPOILER ALERT: You actually did write a post, dumbass.) and I’m just going to give you links to other stuff I wrote.

If you’re in the mood for one of my PokitDok articles on autism, go check out After Your Child’s Autism Diagnosis.

If you’re in the mood for a White Knuckle Parenting column, read about my Clothes Conundrum and how my children are ridiculously hard to dress.

If you’re in the same mood as I am, go to bed and come back to check those links in the morning.

 * I’m not sure I used that correctly.