Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Posts Tagged ‘ice cream

Hope Floats

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Sorbet

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I’ve been taking Pudding to an adapted aquatics class on Sundays.  We can’t really afford the added expense of the weekly lesson, but she loves the water.  We’re doing just one session until our community pool opens for the summer.  They recently filled up this pool, so every time we go to the playground, she stares in at the tempting water and begs to go in.  Every time I tell her she can’t yet, but we’ll go on Sunday.  So she moves on to trying to extort a treat from me, but I’m no sucker.  Or so I think.

As usual, we were in a rush to get our things together and get out on Sunday.  Traffic was horrendous, so I was relieved to get to the pool on time.  I helped her strip out of clothes, and into the top part of her swimsuit.  Then I looked for her bottoms.

They weren’t in the bag.

I frantically pulled everything out of the bag.  Nope.  I’d forgotten them.  I couldn’t believe it.

Now I had to tell her.

She listened.  Her little bottom lip pulled south, and her eyes pooled with tears.

“I want to go swim.”

It was calm, but I knew it was just the beginning of a dive into hysterics.

I felt wretched.

“Pudding, Mummy, is so so sorry.  I know how much you wanted to go swimming.  This is all my fault.  I forgot your swimsuit.  We can go home, and then go out for ice cream (sorbet)  as a special treat.  I promise.  Would you like that?”

“I want to go swim.”

I drew pitying looks from every mother in the changing room.  Everyone has done something like this, I felt their empathy.  But I also knew that with a kid like mine, the stakes were higher.  She wasn’t going to get over it.  This was the beginning of the end of the day for us.

And then, one of the volunteer “swim buddies” and angel in a black costume appeared, offering me the use of a borrowed costume.  Pudding snatched it with an unprompted(!) thank you, and I breathlessly wished her as many blessings as I could muster.  Pudding had already stepped into the costume before I had a chance to think about how icky a borrowed costume might be.

We dashed to the class only a couple of minutes late, and Pudding soon returned to where she belongs.  I got my weekly treat of seeing floating happiness.  As I went to thank Pudding’s swim buddy (a different volunteer), she cut me off, and thanked me, saying she had never met anyone who loved being in the water so much as my girl, and it was a pleasure to be with her.

After we got changed, I rinsed and returned the borrowed costume to the life-saving lady.  Pudding thanked her.  The lady asked if she’d had a good time swimming.

“Yes.  And now we get ice cream.  Mummy, let’s get ice cream!  With Cubby.  And Daddy.”

Well, Mummy did mess up, and a promise is a promise.  Can’t help but wonder how those bottoms vanished from the bag though, when everything turned out just how she’d hoped.

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Written by Spectrummy Mummy

May 3, 2011 at 7:03 am

Spectrummy Daddy

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Today is my wonderful husband’s birthday.  I could write about how every day he demonstrates the strength of unconditional love, but I can show you instead.  And I’ll show you how he never stops trying to connect with our girl, even when it is hard going.  I’d tell you that the world is a better place for every day he is on the planet, but you can see that for yourself.  Read on for the first guest post he wrote, and please join me in wishing him a very happy birthday.

……………

Hello, everyone.  Spectrummy Mummy asked me if I would like to do a guest blog, and I reluctantly agreed.  I’m kidding, I jumped at the chance.  Please don’t go visit another blog, I promise Spectrummy Mummy will return tomorrow.

When she asked me what I was going to blog, I had to think about it for a bit.  Do I talk about one of the greatest days of my life, when I became a father?  (And the German nurse in the delivery room that still makes us laugh.  Great story.  Really.)  Or, do I talk about how I cried when my pudding said “I love you Daddy” after she was diagnosed, because I was afraid she’d lose the ability to say it later on?  I wasn’t as well informed then as I am now.  She still says I love you daddy.  And then I realized what I wanted to talk about.

A daddy’s link to his little girl is always strong.  Usually there is something that is special between the two of them.  Ours was actually two things: weekend breakfasts and ice cream.  I come from a southern family that likes to eat.  We can all cook, and we like to eat good food.  Our love of ice cream and breakfast, particularly American biscuits, is passed down from generations like a good family history.  Proving that she was my daughter, pudding took to both of these items with zeal.  Every weekend I would ask pudding “What do you want for breakfast?”  She would always reply, “Biscuits and honey.  Bees make honey.”  I would smile, and make buttermilk biscuits for her.  We’d smile at each other, and I’d get a kiss from her with a thank you.  When we were out, if she was good, she was always promised ice cream.  It was always a treat from daddy for her.  “Pudding, what kind of ice cream do you want?”  “Strawberry with sprinkles” was the inevitable reply.  It was the pink ice cream, you see.  It was Pudding and daddy’s special thing, and something we bonded over.

When Pudding kept waking in the middle of the night screaming, we knew there was a problem.  When we took her to Dr. P, she suggested that perhaps we should take her to an allergist, just to rule that out as a cause.  When we received the results, my heart sank.  There it was: milk, oats, wheat, and all the others.  There’s your ice cream and your biscuits gone.  There was weekend breakfasts, ice cream treats, and the bonding I had with my little girl.  How was I going to connect to her now?  It was like starting over again 3 years later.

However, Spectrummy Mummy came to my aid when she caught me crying.  (That is also passed down in my family from generation to generation.)  With the wisdom of Solomon and the looks of a young Grace Kelly, she explained that this could be viewed as a good thing.  While we had previously connected by eating, a potentially unhealthy and dangerous activity if overindulged, we could now find something else to connect with.  So, three years after I first became a dad, I started over with my daughter.

Now, we swim together, and she does dog-pile on daddy.  When I get home, she asks to be put on daddy’s shoulders.  We have a variety of things we do to help with her vestibular issues.  Things like whip-saw where I throw her over my shoulders and spin around.   And, I am proud to say, she can point at my t-shirt with the Justice League of America on it and correctly point out Green Lantern, Batman, Aquaman and Superman.  She also likes playing with the DVD player (to my consternation) and with mummy’s iPod, just like her daddy.  Maybe one day she’ll be able to eat ice cream and biscuits again.  Right now, I’ll settle for fruit sorbet and gluten-free pancakes and hearing my daughter laugh when I tickle her, and holding her tight when she asks for a squeeze.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

March 10, 2011 at 6:36 am