Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Posts Tagged ‘Batman

I’m NOT Batman

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Far removed from the terrible tragedy in Colorado, and insensitive media speculation that managed to both diagnose an individual without having met him, and demonize those on the autism spectrum, Batman means something else in our home.

Cubby, like his daddy, has taken a shine to Batman.  He likes other superheroes too, and knows all the real names and those of the villains.  Spectrummy Daddy even made up a superhero story for Cubby, and his alter-ego, The Neme-Sis (get it?).

A few weeks ago Grandma sent him some Batman nightwear (complete with cape) and a Batman action figure.  Spectrummy Daddy couldn’t fit in the pajamas, so Cubby was allowed to keep those.  I’m perhaps married to the only diplomat with a Batman toy on his desk.  Then again, Spectrummy Daddy showed up to the consulate yesterday in his Batman shoes, so I shouldn’t be surprised.  Don’t worry, he doesn’t wear them to his meetings- he has his Batman cufflinks for those.

Because I’m nothing if not an enabler, I taught Cubby to say, “I’m Batman” in the trademark growl.  It is obscenely cute.  It doesn’t matter if he is decked up like the caped crusader- my blond-haired, blue-eyed little bundle of mischief doesn’t make for the most convincing Batman.

Yesterday morning was a hard one for Cubby.  He opened up his bottle of whine before 5am.  Finally Spectrummy Daddy had had enough, and deemed Cubby not fit to wear the pajamas he so covets.

“Batman doesn’t whine,” he told Cubby.

So our very own Bruce Wayne lifted off his pajama top, and patting his belly growled at his Daddy:

I’m NOT Batman.”

That was the first time I actually believed he could be The Dark Knight.

Today he told Daddy that he could his Robin.  I’m not sure where Pudding and I fit into his scenario, but at least I know that when life in our own version of Gotham City gets a bit too much for us, we can always escape to Wayne Manor with a certain billionaire philanthropist.  Hey, my boys aren’t the only ones who can fantasize!

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

July 28, 2012 at 1:01 pm

Happy Holidays!

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I meant to write a post on Christmas Day, to wish you all happy holidays from our family to yours, but the only photo I have of us all together is this one, and I realized that it looks like we are in a very comfortable and festive jail.  Not really in the spirit of the season, but a fair representation of living here.  So in the style of not-so-great photo-journalism, here is our Christmas in pictures.

So, as you can see, Santa came.  Or Father Christmas as we call him in England and South Africa.  He enjoyed his whiskey and cookies, and I’d like to say Rudolph enjoyed the carrot, but that was actually Pudding who gnawed on it.  I had to stop her before she ate the whole thing, and shook my head at the strangeness of a child who chooses carrots over cookies, and a mother who stops her.

Pudding awoke at the usual 5am, but we made her wait an unbearable (for all of us) hour until her brother woke up to go downstairs.  Eventually her demands of “I want presents” became loud enough to rouse him.

One of the great things about raising third culture kids is that they are exposed to many different religions and cultures, and we embrace this fully, while honouring our own traditions.  One of the weird things is that you end up with photos of your kids opening Christmas presents while sitting cross-legged on a Muslim prayer rug.

And another great thing is that Christmas is an opportunity to support the local economy.  Pudding had her own very specific requirements that didn’t lend themselves well to sourcing locally-produced items.  We did, however, find this hand-crafted chair for her doll at a local market.  It broke moments after this photo was taken.  Kind of glad the rest of our stuff came from Melissa and Doug or Lego Duplo.

It isn’t difficult to find gifts bigger than the boy himself.  The way he has been eating this holiday season though, we’re expecting a growth spurt any day now.

I told you she was Santa’s little helper!  Once her own unwrapping was done with, Pudding assisted us too.

Love is not indulging your husband by surprising him with Chuck Taylor Converse All Stars with his special interest- Batman.  Love is being seen out in public with him wearing them.

And for most of the rest of the day, it was about play.  Here we are tricking Cubby into developing his fine motor skills.  Probably doesn’t hurt that he is learning about counting, shapes and numbers too- with us as parents he needs all the mathematical help he can get.

Pudding played by dressing up in the same outfit as newly-shorn Kelly doll and telling her a story.  Maybe I joined in likewise- you can’t tell because I’m on the other side of the camera, thanks to Santa bringing me a new lens to replace the one I broke back in the US.

And the rest of the day I pretty much spent making this: my most perfect turkey yet.  The kids ate about two mouthfuls, of course.

That was about it for our Christmas.  It was quiet, cosy and drama-free, and I know what a lucky autism mama I am to be able to say that.  Of course, I did take down the tree the next day- a return to our version of normality is a present to us all.

From my family to yours, I sincerely hope you had a wonderful time.  And if not, I’m sincerely glad they are over for another year.  Extra-special holiday love to you all.

Trying to Be a Superhero (Guest Post by Spectrummy Daddy)

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One of the hardest things we’ve had to deal with as parents has been the separation anxiety of our kids.  Pudding had some terrible times when we would leave, and Cubby’s is much worse.  Mummy can’t even leave to go take a shower without him screaming out for her.  It’s a bit off-putting to be honest, and we always make sure that when we have date-night that the kids are asleep before we leave the house.  There is no need to subject our babysitter to that kind of torment.  (Plus, it keeps people volunteering.)  When Pudding asks for Mummy to put her to bed, I have to deal with the screams and temper tantrums that come from Cubby not getting his mummy.  He will calm down, but not before rattling the windows with his histrionics.  And when I have to put Pudding to bed, I get a lot of the same thing.

The thing is, I know how hard my wife works, and she is always there for the kids when they need her.  When Cubby falls down and hurts himself, she’s the one that picks him back up.  When Pudding needs a glass of milk, Mummy does that too.  That probably has a lot to do with it.  As Pudding says, “Daddy has to go to work.”  However, I have to admit, it’s very terrible sometimes being the one left out.  I always fancied myself as a Superhero, trying to do best for my kids, and that they would appreciate me for it, and want me to be there to comfort and hold them.  Maybe it’s because they’re still small, but I don’t see that happening yet.  It does break my heart when in the middle of the night Pudding cries out and I go only for her to say over and over again: “I want mummy.”  Or when I put Cubby to bed have him cry, “I want mummy-cuddle.”  Instead of Batman, I feel more like Aquaman.  A character that’ll do in a pinch, but not the guy you want to carry the story for long.

I shouldn’t complain.  I still get hugs and kisses from my kids, we play and rough house together, and I know they love me.  It’s just sometimes I wish they’d come to me for help and support instead of bothering their mother, who really needs a break.  I’m sure it’ll happen.  Until then I keep hoping that when Cubby and Pudding have an issue that needs solving, I’ll look to the sky and see the bat-signal waiting for me.  And you better believe I’ll get there as fast as I can.  Hopefully in the Bat-mobile.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

January 18, 2011 at 7:22 am