This morning I woke up early to attend a group focusing on the female profile within ASD. Can't imagine getting a more perfect and pertinent topic for a woman on the spectrum with twin girls on the spectrum. So, I made my way through the deserted Saturday morning streets of Toronto's financial district . It reminded me of the possible beginning of a George Romero movie. All is quiet, and then ZOMBIES! I made it to the Sheraton without a single bite mark by 7am. I figured it was going to be one of the most personally rewarding seminars of the weekend. But... then... when we were all streaming into the conference room someone suggested group circles. I froze. I could suddenly recall every group circle I'd had been in since about second graded streaming by my eyelids like a high speed slide show. And, then I left. I couldn't handle the butterflies that started or the tension rising in my shoulders. What if someone asked me a question? Were we going to take turns? I didn't want to play. Those are the times I feel disappointment in myself. Did I just miss a great opportunity simply because ten other people might ask me to say my name? Yes. However, I waited until after its completion to go back, taking a moment to briefly explain the structure made me uncomfortable. It is NEVER my intention to insult anyone by turning away from them while they are talking. I wanted to make that clear to the VERY nice people directing the group. I did put my name on an email list. And, I hope more information can be found online after the fact. It is one of my main directives to work more with young girls on the spectrum in my community. Lending my positive experiences and mistakes up as life lessons to them. More research on my part will only strength any programs created in conjunction with others here in Erie, like Janet Pawlowski.
The keynote speaker of the day was Alan Evans discussing the Structural Connectivity in Neurodevelopment. Now, this is my kind of brain candy. When working on my degree in Liberal Arts with two minors at Penn State, one of the minors was psychology. While studying psychology, I realized most facets are still too closely rooted in its philosophical origins and loosely subjective. Then came neuropsychology and neuroscience to save the day. I still have a soft spot in my heart for those subjects. Plus, working in a surgical intensive care unit now makes me very familiar with many of the tools used in the research like MRIs and EEGs. Studies like these put into words the
feeling I have that my brain is functioning differently. I am seeing, hearing, deducting differently. Is it the more gray, less white? Less calories with better taste? Is that possible? Yes, and show me! Please. Again, once I go over my notes (translate my handwriting which is ridiculous to even me, the stenographer), I will break down each session, retelling with my opinions inserted here and there. Can you see my brain was like an open bottle of vinegar duct taped to an open box of baking soda? I do wish I would have extended myself more to the other grantees.
The ride home was a labor. It is Victoria Day weekend in Canada, which apparently means everyone hits the road to go open up their cottages sprinkled along the Lakes. Stop and go for the first half. Then an hour at the border. I tried to remain patient, but the idling use of gas kills me. The border guard was rude, but he didn't hassle us. I had the wherewithall to realize he probably wasn't in the mood for jokes about tropical birds, ash beetles, zebra muscles, or illegal immigrants. I am surprised Kristy Korea didn't haul off and punch me a few times this weekend, especially while driving with me. This is a shocker, but traveling with me or spending more than eight consecutive hours with me can be a bit trying. I'll admit I can come across as argumentative and less than patient... often.
I arrived home to find two little mermaids in the bathtub. The two main reason why I went to IMFAR in Toronto this weekend. Sine greeted me with a song. A complete song. And, even thinking about that now chokes me up a little. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but Sine usually can't maintain an interpersonal exchange like that long enough to complete even half a song. She was telling me she missed me. Cosine showed me her digger bee "bite". At bedtime, I took the girls up separately-- reading to each of them alone. They rarely get to spend time with me one on one, letting me get to know them each better. I am thinking it needs to happen more to help Sine with her reading/phonetics delay without slowing Cosine's second grade reading level down. But, it lets them each talk to me uninterrupted. And, the three of us all need some communication skills practice!
When we were finally all in bed saying our good nights (Daddy needed a motorcycle ride after three days with the girls alone), I was reminded again of why I do EVERYTHING I do. Cosine rested in the crook of my arm while asking me whether or not Sisyphus died, what the peak of the mountain looked like, and how big was the boulder. Oh, and did he wear a toga like Greeks and Romans. I tried my best to fully answer them all. Sine, as she lay draped across my belly, asked me if the Earth would exist in the future and what color the Sun would be as it started dying. We discussed how Earth would burn up as the Sun expanded and how new planet & suns could form from the dust and gases let over. Then we talked about things most five and a half year old girls talk about-- princesses. More specifically Ethiopian princesses as we listened to the aria of Aida by Verdi. I may not be a typical mother, but I am a good mother. One glad to be home with her Dumplings.
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