I have to admit that I was being a little pissy about the new HBO movie, Temple Grandin.  It’s a true story about an autistic woman who invents a humane way to slaughter cattle.  There were several ridiculous reasons why I did not want to watch it; a) I do not like the woman’s name, Temple Grandin; b) I have no interest in cattle; c) the subject of slaughtering cattle is unappealing; and, d) I live with autism.  Autism is never more than two seconds from my brain.  The idea of spending two hours watching a movie about another autistic person was not a tiny bit enticing.  However…  We do have HBO and while Rob took Linlee swimming this afternoon, I went channel surfing.  Temple Grandin was just starting.  I paused to watch for a few minutes and I never picked the remote back up.  I was fascinated.  The movie only shows a few minutes of Temple at age four.  For the majority of the movie, she is between ages eighteen and somewhere in her late twenties, I think.  Still, there were so many moments where I thought, holy cow, that’s going to be Linlee!  Of course, I don’t know that.  Linlee may progress to the point of surpassing Temple Grandin (who is now a professor at Colorado State University), or she may not come close.  It’s a question mark.  But I saw so many similarities (although, not 100%) between my daughter’s behavior and what was portrayed in the movie.  It truly was fascinating (to me, anyway).  One thing I really liked was how Temple’s mother often reminded her daughter that she may be “different, but not less.”  I was recently asked if Linlee knew she was different.  For a split second, I considered being offended by the question, but that’s silly.  At this point in time, Linlee has no clue that other children her age communicate and engage differently than she does.  When she does become aware of the difference, I hope I can help her understand that she is not less of anything.  In many ways, she is more.  And to Rob and me, she is everything.

Today we visited some botanical gardens for a photo shoot.  One of Rob’s friends wanted some practice taking photos of children, so we volunteered Linlee (figured he could start off with a real challenge, heh heh).  To be honest, there is just not a lot to see at the gardens in February in Seattle.  Still, they offered a nice “nature-y” background for the photographer.  I was there taking my own pictures, but I sure hope he got better shots than I did.  Mine were awfully mediocre (to poor).

To begin with, Linlee got out of the car and realized that we were at more of a “park,” than a “playground,” and started the afternoon in tears.  It wasn’t looking good for the photo shoot.  But she slowly pulled herself together.  Here we are waiting for the photographer…

A little smile?

That’s better!

Jumping across big rocks:

Wishing mommy & daddy would let her climb this tree:

Reading up on the flora & fauna:

Getting some tickles from daddy:

Linlee and I have done some nice reconnecting the last two days.  We are both finally getting over an icky cold that lasted two weeks, which is helping a lot.  Today Linlee came up to me several times and hugged my legs, saying, “Hug mommy.”  Oh my gosh, she never does that and it was exactly what I needed!  I love her so much.

Linlee had her five year well check-up this morning.  She did so much better than the last appointment in the summer (where she howled the entire time).  I brought Rob with us for this appointment and I think that helped (daddy is her hero).  Unfortunately, we were not able to check her hearing or sight because she just isn’t able to cooperate for those tests yet.  Otherwise, she is petite, but healthy.  Linlee weighs 31 pounds (2nd percentile) and is 41 inches tall (16th percentile).

Here is a sweet picture from yesterday; Linlee and Mémé reading a book:

While some of my friends in the south have been enjoying a winter wonderland, our temperature was 55º in Seattle today.  That’s spring weather!   My mom is still here, so Rob and I were able to have a date last night.  Nice!  She leaves tomorrow – boo!

Here is pretty Linlee playing in the front yard.  She was still in her heavy coat from school, but didn’t need to be…

My mom is over for a quick visit.  She brought Linlee these neat toys called Pinklets.  They are sort of like the feminine version of Tinker Toys.

Linlee was delightful today, which was a nice change.  Rob is around and letting me takes lots of naps, so I’m starting to catch up on some exhaustion that got a wee bit out of control.  This is good.

Freaky picture, huh?  Linlee was jumping for the camera.

There is my sweet girl.

Thanks for the support concerning Linlee and her trying behavior of late.  I wish it were only whining that I’m dealing with, but she doesn’t whine (yet).  She wails.  She howls.  She throws herself on the floor and cries at the top of her lungs as if someone has just lit fire to the soles of her feet.  And all that because we’re out of oranges, or I asked her to put her coat on the hook, or a toy won’t sit the way she wants it to, etc.   Today I’m going to talk about being the mother of an autistic child.  Children are needy by nature.  As mothers (and fathers), we give selflessly.  That’s just how it works.  When children are challenging, the mommy cup starts to deplete.  Yet, every time we get a smile or giggle, or a hug, or an “I love you,” the cup fills back up ten fold.  It all works out.  However, autistic children can be more challenging than regular kids.  I will give one example of the kind of situation I deal with on a regular basis.  The other day I heard a crash from the play room and Linlee immediately began to cry.  I raced upstairs to see if she was okay.  She is five, but she cannot tell me what happened or if she was hurt.  So I looked her all over for any cuts or bumps and didn’t find any.  She continued to cry hysterically.  I put my arms around her to comfort her and she wriggled violently away screaming, “ALL DONE!  ALL DONE!”  I should not have tried to hold her; I am never allowed to comfort her when she is hurt or upset.  I decided that I could at least sit next to her; just be there for her.  But she was becoming angry and agitated that she’d gotten hurt and was now looking for someone to take it out on.  So she began kicking me.  I held her legs and reminded her that we do not kick.  This reprimand infuriated her even more and she began to kick harder.  Although she deserved a time-out for kicking, I just didn’t have the heart at that time to give her one.  Trust me, the child already lives in time-out and I felt bad because she’d hurt herself and did not know how to handle the situation.  However, I’m not going to be her punching bag, either.  So I got up and walked away.  There was clearly nothing I could do as her mother to improve the situation – and that felt awful.  Linlee continued to cry hysterically until she wore herself out.  I sat miserably in another room.  My reality; I go to comfort my child and end up getting kicked for it.

Anyhow, the point is, my mommy cup empties fairly quickly each day.  Autistic children have a difficult time expressing affection, including Linlee, and my cup doesn’t get filled up as often as other mommy cups do.  I often go to bed each night with a cup which is just about empty.  That doesn’t leave me much to start with the very next morning.  I don’t blame Linlee; she can’t help being autistic.  I love my child more than words can say.  But understanding a situation doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to live with.  Autism is a tough road and I’m feeling that pretty strongly right now.  (Probably because of sleep deprivation; Linlee has been keeping me up for several hours in the middle of most nights lately.  Thanks again, autism.)

A picture for the grandparents:

Linlee’s constant wailing and tantrums over the most ridiculous things are driving me insane.  (I probably shouldn’t have written a week or two ago that things are getting easier.  Those words are biting me in the butt.)  I’m suddenly daydreaming about putting the child in daycare and going to work at Starbucks or something.  Of course I don’t truly mean it and I couldn’t do it even if I really wanted to because who would drive Linlee to all her therapies every week?  (Okay, while I typed that Linlee spilled her fries and began crying hysterically over it.  Probably the 83rd hysterical cry for the day.)  Perhaps we’ve let gluten or casein slip into her diet the last few weeks and this is the result?  I don’t know, but where did the fun go?  I never cried this much as a child.  Neither did my brother.  We did not have temper tantrums either; it just wasn’t done.  Of course, we were also not autistic.  I guess Linlee is having a hard week and therefore, so am I.

Here is a picture of my child not fussing and not in time-out today; a rare moment: