Monday, March 14, 2011
With incredible support from the coaches, a lot of back-channeling by us and a fantastic special ed crew at our high school, The Weatherman is a Lacrosse player!
“Lacrosse?” you might say, “really, for an aspie kid?”
And I say, “Lacrosse Mom? For this brain-dead husk of a survivor of three ADHD teens? Bring it on!!”
The Lacrosse topic came up, as all paradigm-shifting conversations always do, unexpectedly and in the car.
(When the Smarter Spicoli was 13 he asked me how old I was when I lost my virginity. I asked him why and he said he felt so sorry for Dad who told him he lost his virginity when he met me…he was 39…my hormonal son was practically despondent and I nearly rolled my car trying not to laugh.)
The Weatherman TOLD me he was trying out for the Lacrosse team. I had to fight my wicked ADD “foot-in-mouth-disease” and refrain from saying “Are you kidding? You don’t even walk fast let alone run and we have never been to a lacrosse game, we don’t know the rules and don’t those guys bash each other with sticks?” But, my friends will be shocked to know that I actually told him I thought it was a great idea.
Now for the next step. Teaching The Weatherman Lacrosse.
*Found a local coach who spent weeks teaching The Weatherman the basics so that when he got out on the field for tryouts, he didn’t embarrass himself.
*Contact the HS coach and start the long “conversation.”
*Buy a DVD about lacrosse.
*Get the outfit. So…here is how that went down.
The Weatherman and I went to the local sport store and I found a sympathetic looking sales kid to rescue me. If The Weatherman was going to try out, at the very least, he would have the coolest accoutrements to complete the look.
I accompanied the two as we piled the cart with pads, helmet, cool looking stick, gnarly cleats, gloves and oh, yeah, one thing the Weatherman didn’t have was a Jock Strap.
I made eye contact with the sales kid and left those “details” for him to discuss with The Weatherman…but I stayed close just in case The Weatherman reacted to the sales kid's size selection.
I give the sales kid a lot of credit. He found the right stuff I guess and off to the cash register we went.
We were ready….uh…sort of.
On the first day of practice, The Weatherman got dressed at home and I really had no idea if all the pads were on properly but he looked okay to me.
Until I saw the way he was walking. He was walking like a cowboy with bowlegs. So I said to him “Hey, why are you walking so funny?”
He told me that I would walk that way too if I had to wear “a F#$%^ cup!”
So, of course I sympathized with him and said I had no idea what that would be like but lots of men play sports and don’t walk that way.
Swear this is true. The Weatherman said that he didn’t believe that because “How could they do that with their balls hanging out of the cup.”
My delivery of the next “piece of advice” was cautious as I told him I didn’t think he could possibly have it on right. I gently said that I think the cup is designed to hold your stuff. But again, I digressed with “I wouldn’t know that for sure, of course.”
That is when the light went off in The Weatherman’s eyes.
“Oh, maybe I have it on upside down.”
So, the poor Weatherman had indeed put the smaller part on the top, which left his manjigglies squished out on the sides.
I drew the line at helping him “adjust” this issue but I did work the “visual learning” aspect of the teachable moment that would have given legendary mime Marcel Marceau a run for his money.
And, really, this begs the question “Why doesn’t any of this stuff happen on my husband’s watch?”
By the way, The Weatherman is having a great time on the lacrosse team and with all that “support” (haha) he is walking around campus like “THE MAN!”
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Power: Keeping my Eye on the Poon Puppy
My two college kids came home for their holiday break…for a month!
I have to admit, as the day approached in December for their return, I, like most normal mothers, looked forward to having them home. Though I had gotten used to, and enjoyed the relative quiet of our house somehow I had developed a brain lesion or selective memory and had forgotten how much I deplored their nonstop, techno, wall vibrating taste in music.
I returned to my old, cranky, pissed off self after a day of “Dub Step” and the endless parade of the cast of characters who just had to welcome back The Smarter Spicoli and Rainbow Sparkle-Dazzle!
But, the best was yet to come!
For anyone who thinks kids grow out of their ADD, I’ve got news for you…they don’t. They are prone to all the same stuff that got them into trouble when they were in elementary school but now, often times, the consequences are a bit more challenging.
Impulsivity is our family’s biggest challenge.
The Smarter Spicoli came home a couple of days after Christmas with a Siberian Husky puppy that he had quasi rescued in downtown LA. He told me that the puppy was going to live with him in San Francisco.
Here are the highlights of our exchange.
Me: “A puppy? How can you bring a puppy back to college? What about studying?”
Spicoli: “It’s chill, Mom.”
Me: “Puppies require a lot of attention. You go to school all day.”
Spicoli: “Mom, it’s chill. I live with 5 guys. They will help.”
Me: “Why don’t you bring our old lab up to SF. She sleeps all day and only requires feeding.”
Spicoli: “Dude, Mom. Chicks love puppies.”
Spicoli: “Mom…if I walk around SF with this really cute puppy, think of all the poon I am going to get.”
*note: one of the special gifts a child with ADHD has is a lack of filter and relentlessly inappropriate, but truthful discourse.
Me: “You mean to tell me that you are going to take advantage of this sweet little puppy as a device to get poon?”
Spicoli: “Totally. It’s like a chick magnet.”
|Poon Puppy with our Lab.|
Me: (looking at the sweet puppy) “How does it feel to be a Poon Puppy?”
So the rest of the The Smarter Spicoli’s “vacation” was “totally chill” as the aphrodisiac effects of the Poon Puppy began to pay off. Gross.
I, on the other-hand, spent the “vacation” pointing out poop for Spicoli to clean up and trying to teach him how to care for a puppy that had such a wonderful future waiting for him in Spicoli’s lair.
As the date got closer and Spicoli realized just how hard he was going to have to work to get “poon” I began to feel really sorry for the Poon Puppy. He was going to be miserable in San Francisco. I prayed that Spicoli would see the world through the Poon Puppy’s striking blue eyes and figure out for himself that sacrificing the dog for poon would be the right thing to do…as a good citizen.
Thankfully for the Poon Puppy, Spicoli’s landlord told him that he would get evicted if he had a puppy. Spicoli was pretty sad and wiped a tear from his eye as he said his good byes. Not sure if the tear was for the dog or for the chaste future he faced back in San Francisco.
I didn’t have the heart to give the Poon Puppy away so, I am now the mother to two cats, two dogs and a cockatiel and now, a Poon Puppy. We all know the drill…they gnaw on everything, poop everywhere require exercise and non-stop attention and everything has to be put and out of teething range.
I am reluctantly up for it. What’s the worse thing that could happen?
|Teeth marks at bottom right, ouch!!|
Swear to God…I woke up yesterday morning and found the Poon Puppy teething on my $3500 fake eye. (it’s like a big contact lens which covers failed cornea transplant, no big deal) but now it has teeth marks on it and I can’t wear it because it hurts when I blink.
I’ve got to do a better job keeping my eye on that Poon Puppy!!