Adventures With Autism and Adopting a Healthier Lifestyle


This child of mine hates, hates, HATES having her hair messed with. Guess what? Her teacher has, three days in a row now, put Emily’s hair up.

Today it was French braids!


She called herself by name!

Emily loooooves to label, so we do a thing where I point at whoever is in the room (one by one) and ask “who’s that?” When we get to her, she almost always says “baby!” A couple of times, she’s said, “me!” So, today, out of nowhere, this happened…

Me: Who’s that?
Emily: Grandma!
Me: Who’s that?
Emily: Maggie! (dog)

Me: Who am I?
Emily: Mommy!

Me: Who are you?
Emily: Emily!

My jaw dropped! I praised her like mad!! When Daddy got home, we tried it again and she said Emily that time, too! ๐Ÿ™‚


“I could easily stop my child’s meltdown. I am a magical fairy, after all.
But, I love how uncomfortable and annoyed everyone looks when it happens.
You got to have a hobby.”

From All Over The Spectrum on Facebook

Three meltdowns in one day, one of them about an hour long (and that was the one I handled well… figures).

It’s been a while since a day like this has happened. How long, you ask?

Well, during the year or so we were faithfully eating gluten-free? Not one day like this.

Yes. As you may have guessed, we fell off the wagon. Pretty badly over the last couple of weeks.

Since about November, we have been eating pizza and such on occasion, while maintaining GF during the in-between time.

Emily didn’t really react badly.
Then we got too cocky and ate gluten too often.

We rue the day.

The past week has been constipation and meltdowns aplenty.

We’re getting back on the wagon.

The Awkward Dance

About once a week or so, it happens.

The awkward dance.

Emily meets a new person.

There’s the initial, “Hi sweetie, what’s your name? How old are you? What grade are you in?”

No response.

Then there I am, either answering for her, or repeating the questions to her, in a vain attempt to get her to say something.

More often than not, what she says (if anything) is something like, “kangaroo!,” or “ice cubes!,” or “hi” (if we’re lucky).

Then my internal argument with myself begins, “do I tell them she has Autism?”

“I could tell them she doesn’t talk much, but they just heard her script a full minute of dialog from Numbers Ahoy.”

“I could say she’s shy, if it weren’t for the dance routine she just did for anyone who cared to watch.”

Eventually, my desire to escape the situation takes over and we make a hasty exit.

I never was a very good dancer.

Top 5: things that help

People often ask me what helps/has helped Emily the most. I thought I’d go ahead and rank the top five.

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Thursday: Best Day Ever

So, I go to pick up Emily from school on Thursday and her teacher says, “I’m not even kidding… best day she’s ever had!” She listened, she talked more (!!), she “sang every song and did every move.”

Way to go, Emily!! I guess that week you took off due to head lice made you miss school that much. ๐Ÿ˜‰

First of all, please forgive my long absence from blogging. I’ve been very distracted lately. I’m here now, though. ๐Ÿ™‚

I want to catch you up on something that happened to me at the end of September.

The back story would be far too complicated and long to put here, plus, it identifies me quite a bit. This blog is semi-anonymous, after all (I say semi, as people who know me do come here). I’ve done this mostly because of my husband and his work. He doesn’t like personal stuff put out there too much, so I keep his name and mine hidden to accomplish that goal.

ANYway, I’ll give you the “nutshell” version of the back story: there’s a person I used to know who is relatively well-known (more so 20 years ago, but, still…). A fan/groupie/minion of this person (from here on referred to only as “Fangroupieminion”) likes to attack people via Twitter if they happen to say anything about said former friend that she deems inappropriate. And her definition of inappropriate and yours are likely nowhere NEAR the same, believe me.

So, at the end of last month, someone (not me) started a new Twitter account with the express purpose of posting an unflattering (yet 100% honest) video of this “well-known” person. Fangroupieminion decided this fake account was mine and began to attack according to that assumption.

Straight out of the gate, I was called an “Autism lover.” Umm… okay. Loving a child with Autism does not mean I love Autism. Just so we’re clear on that. In fact, I hate… loathe… detest Autism. Such a strange thing to call someone. What the heck? Is that the “(N-word) lover” for this millennium, or what? Besides, even if I was in lust with Autism, that would be between Autism and I. It’s private. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Next, she said, “…like the mom of a re re you are.” Okay, getting into dangerous territory there, but refraining a bit.

Then it got worse. A lot worse.
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Original recipe from:
Gluten-Free Makeovers, but you know me, I had to experiment a bit. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I didn’t include the chicken soup part here, as I figure most of you probably already have a “go-to” recipe of your own for that and you’re all about the dumplings. Right? Right. Okay. Let’s do this! ๐Ÿ˜‰

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Said No ASD Parent Ever

One of the Facebook groups I’m in had a “things special needs parents never say” thread. These are the ones I related to most.

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