Tales from the Minivan

I drive my kids around in a minivan. A lot. Their schools are more than 25 miles apart in a traffic-heavy city, and neither is close to home. (I am a huge fan of the Gas Buddy app!)

Along these treks, we listen to music, talk, yell, read, complain and laugh. I've learned a lot from my mini-passengers. So I thought I'd share some of the lessons my kids have taught me on the road.

Hope these tips are helpful to someone out there. If you and your kids have additional travel tips to offer, please add them. I need all the help I can get!

• There IS a better seat. It's the one already occupied by your sibling.
• Sign language doesn't work so well while driving.
• Crumbs always make a good snack. And if there's a cup in a cup holder with liquid still in it, it's fair game. 
• Anything you've placed carefully on the seat to look at later will be all over the van by the time you get home. Many important papers will never again be seen in one piece - especially if a deadline's involved.
• Songs MUST be played through to the end or the day will be ruined. The exception is songs in which you only like the opening beats. For those: Play. Restart. Play. Restart. Play. Restart (repeat 100 times).
• Navis make excellent toys. They also serve as wonderful tools for nonverbal children to know where they are or are NOT going...providing additional opportunities for screaming, protests and tantrums.
• Child locks work ONLY if the child is not able to open them. If the child has autism, he or she eventually WILL learn to open them.
• Music - no matter how loud - will never be loud enough to drown out a screaming banshee.
• Car windows can withstand much more heavy banging than one would think.
• If something's worth the effort of saying out loud, it's a good idea to repeat it every 2 seconds until you get what you want. Patience? Waiting? Huh?
• It doesn't matter if she's driving on the highway, balancing a cell phone and/or a large Diet Coke, or begging a screaming child to keep her seat belt on...If something needs to be thrown away, just say 'here" and wait for Mom's hand to magically extend.
• Exiting the van is an act of precision, requiring careful planning, balance and warning. The timing will never be quite right for either child. 

***For tips on maintaining a chic, professional appearance on the road, see Red Light Makeover.

***To see what this family looks like when we exit the minivan, see It's My Blog. I Can Cry If I Want To.

Wordless Wednesday: Really?

Interesting interpretation of a disabled parking spot. And no, I didn't spot a hangtag either!

Draw Something Hall of Shame

I'm a little late to the Draw Something craze, but that's probably because I've been so absorbed with my Scramble, Scrabble, Poker, Mystery Mansion and Hangman habit.

It's been less than a week, and it seems that I now am as addicted as the rest of you. However, I've got a huge problem with this game: I can NOT draw something. I can NOT draw anything.

I'm not being humble or self-critical. I just can't. Occasionally, I might fancy myself a "word artist" and I'm not terrible at photography, but when it comes to traditional art on paper - drawing, painting, sketching - I'm a complete and utter failure. Does your 5-year-old bring home "Art" from pre-k? Mine is worse. If there were an American Idol for doodling, I'd be brought in during audition week as the "I can't believe anyone's that bad" entertainment.

Once, in 4th grade or so, we were doing something with paper mache. (Natch.) I think we were paper macheing our arms or something. Can't imagine why. Anyway, probably to deflect from my lack of talent in art class and simply to be silly, I put my charm bracelet on the paper mache arm. To help you visualize this, think tacky, plastic, neon-colored charms circa late 70s/early 80s; not Pandora. My art teacher happened to pass by at the moment, and deemed it absolutely brilliant. (Art is weird that way.) She loved it. Before I knew what happened, said paper mache art was displayed in the local (nationally renown!) art museum.

It was a complete fluke because of two facts: 1. It was not brilliant. 2. I really suck at art. (And I kind of missed my charm bracelet. Wonder if I ever got it back?)

Still, I defend my right to play "Draw Something"...and not only draw poorly, but revel in it.

I whined-commented a little when I read this article by my TwitterBook friend: Draw Something (That Doesn't Totally Suck). (Disclaimer - none of the examples are mine. He won't play with me...which is good, because mine are worse).

But I then realized he's probably not having as much fun as I. I am hysterical when I'm drawing these bits AND even more so when I have to witness my opponent's attempts to guess the words that I've so ineptly illustrated. If you want a game like this to be fun, play with someone like me. If you want to win - even though there's not really winning at Draw Something - so let's say win something like Pictionary, put me on the other team (even though I'm okay at guessing. BTW, if the game is Taboo or Catchphrase, I'm your girl. Unstoppable!).

Recently, another TwitterBook friend posted some of her not-so-art-museum-worthy pics on Facebook, and I was practically in tears reading the hilarious comments. Basically, Draw Something is the best party game ever - without the party. So, I am going to provide a space for us to share these pictures and the laughter. We all need it!

***Unfortunately, I haven't quite mastered saving my screenshots on Draw Something, so I can't share my absurd depictions of "joystick" or "airport" ... but don't worry. Worse will come.

Please post your own ... if you dare!

Draw Something Hall of Shame Gallery

How Old Is She?

The question seems innocent enough, right? Not even close. See, when it comes to a giant, 7-year-old nonverbal child with autism, it’s a loaded question. In fact, depending on the inquisitor and tone, it’s like the word “set” (which possesses the most definitions/uses in the English language - rumored to be in the 400s!).

So, allow me to help translate it for you, since I imagine you won't find these definitions on Wikipedia.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: gentle, kind): I know she has autism because I recognize it. I am asking her age because I am empathetic and sensitive. I’m hoping you will volunteer the information so I can tell you all about my sister’s/cousin’s/neighbor’s kid with autism. I might offer you a hopeful message or simply a knowing, supportive smile.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: sweet, cloyingly sympathetic):  I can tell something is wrong with your child. She is not acting anywhere close to her age. I’m slightly nosy and want to appear friendly. I will smile pitifully at you and probably follow up with something like “bless her heart."

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: rushed, alarmed):  I have (or am very close to) a child with special needs, and I am comparing our children. In an instant, I have assessed whether yours is older/younger than mine...yours is speaking better/worse than mine...yours is higher/lower functioning than mine. This comparison is not at all like the competitive nature of suburban, prep-school playgrounds. It’s more about survival, hope and support. Occasionally, resource ideas and therapists’ names will be swapped.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: stern, accusing):  I have no idea what you’ll answer but it doesn’t even matter. She is way too old to be acting this way. I’m not really interested in hearing an explanation for her behavior. She’s bothering me somehow, and you should take her out of here. Have you no shame, lady? Just stay home if you can't handle your child.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: bright; speaker has child of similar age): Are our kids the same age? Will they be in the same class? I embrace and support inclusion...just not in my own daughter's classroom. Oh, I’ll say all the right things and use this as a teachable moment for my children, but in the back of my mind, I foresee that brat ruining my little dumpling's Hannah Montana birthday party. And I just KNOW that you ate too much tuna fish or drank too much while you were pregnant. Really, I’m just relieved that we escaped that statistic and you got the 1 in 88 instead.

***

There are many more. Perhaps one of my supportive readers will add to this list.

Meanwhile, for my sister mothers, I will share one last interpretation of this question which I learned only a few days ago. This scenario is a rare but exciting one. Last week I was asked the same, old question, but in a tone I’ve never heard before. It was like someone speaking in a foreign language. Here’s what happened.

Lady (Tone: casual, hopeful; Setting: store of some kind): HOW OLD IS SHE?

Me  (suspicious, unsure): 7

Lady (holding up two outfits): “Oh good. I'm buying a present for my granddaughter and thought they might be about the same age.”

(Addressing my daughter) “Which one would you like better?”

We were BOTH speechless this time. I explained to the lady that my dear, little girl doesn’t talk and doesn't really share the same interests as others her age...but still I repeated the question for her…and she pointed at one of the outfits (the uglier, more ostentatious one, of course). The lady thanked us sweetly and walked away.

I remained in place, somewhat flabbergasted but delighted that someone considered my daughter to be a typical peer of her age group. Best question ever!

***FOOTNOTE: Please don't EVER ask me “WHAT GRADE IS SHE IN?” There’s only one definition to that one: You are utterly clueless...(not to mention that I have absolutely no idea).