Well, It’s Like This

Hi Quirky followers!

An announcement and a request – I’m making a change and would love for you to join me.

I’ve been writing on and off here on Stay Quirky, My Friends since April 2012, and it has been so valuable to me. 

But lately, I’ve been reducing my time on social media and online in general, and that has been hugely valuable to me as well. 

I’m forever grateful that you’ve liked reading my posts over these past almost 9 years (?!), because writing them has helped me connect with and understand my kid in a myriad of ways.

It’s why I come back to this space even after going silent for weeks or months at a time.

I still have things to write (and tell you) about what life is like over here…but I’m feeling the need to change things up.

So, beginning in March 2021, I will be trying out a new platform for my writing on Substack. It’s an email-newsletter service that will allow me to get out from under online ads, WordPress complications, Facebook algorithms, clicks and hashtags – and just simply write to you.

If you want to follow my writing, you can subscribe here, for free. You’ll get an email from me every couple of weeks (hopefully!). Or, if you’d rather not subscribe, you can follow along (and comment) on my Substack page: itslikethis.substack.com.

I’m not sure how this is all going to work yet.

But my plan is to launch “It’s Like This” in early March and get into a regular groove of posting something about what it’s like around here every other week. 

This Quirky page (and its corresponding FB Page) will stay up for a while until I figure out how best to archive it – but I won’t be posting any new content here. 

So, please consider subscribing to my emails on Substack to read my latest ramblings! 

Hopefully, I’ll see you there!



Character Counts

The other day, I overheard my son reciting his old elementary school’s “Character Counts” pledge, the one he heard every morning (13 years ago) as his class repeated it together after the pledge of allegiance.

He was never able to say it in the moment along with his class, but those words (and the cadence and inflection) have stuck with him.

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him repeat this little pledge—although it’s not unusual for my 21-year-old to randomly voice short phrases, like his 2nd grade teacher’s daily greeting (and the students’ response) –  “Good morning 205! Good morning Mrs. King!” 

Perhaps his memory was triggered by one of these non-stop political ads, that argue over a candidate’s (and our nation’s) “character.”

…I promise to be TRUSTWORTHY, to show RESPECT, to be RESPONSIBLE, to be FAIR, to be CARING, to be a good CITIZEN and to always have the courage to do THE RIGHT THING because CHARACTER COUNTS…

I do wish more of our politicians, and their fervent supporters, would take this oath.

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Big Thoughts

My son often comes to me and—with the strong eye contact that helped delay his autism diagnosis all those years ago—quietly urges me to read his mind. He seems to almost hold his breath, waiting for me to prompt him, to help him say what he needs to say.

He may gesture with his arm in the general direction of the thing he’s thinking about (never exactly pointing, an early autism-related deficit that still lingers).

He may mumble or tentatively whisper a single word or short phrase if I ask him, “What’s up?”

If I encourage him to speak louder, his voice grows softer instead. He sometimes appears nervous and flustered while he waits for me to figure it out.

Many days, I do guess what he’s thinking. I’ve lived with this kid for a long time, and mom just knows, right?

I know he wants me to unhide the rest of the cookies we made yesterday.
I know he needs the dog to stop snoring.
I know that he really must to take this pen out of my hand and return it to its spot on the desk.

But there’s so many things I don’t know. So many conversations we’ve never had.

Maybe he’s coming to tell me about a dream he had last night.
Maybe he’s figured out what he wants to be now that he’s grown up.
Maybe he wants to know how I’m feeling.

Lately, when he comes to me with words hiding in his throat, I try not to jump ahead, to not assume I already know what he’s trying to say.

I offer him an open-ended sentence, typed on a screen or written on scrap paper.

I am thinking about ___

Just in case. Just to remind myself that I don’t know all that is in his head.

Not I want___ or Can I have___. Our interactions don’t have to be limited to requests. Just tell me what you’re thinking.

Most times, simply the movement toward typing or writing loosens his tongue and he says his thought out loud before he fills in the blank.

Yes, yes, he usually replies with something he wants.

“Banana muffin” or “Chocolate” or “Toy Story”

Yeah, I’m thinking about chocolate, too, kid…

But I try to keep his options open. Because he might not be asking for those cookies we’re both thinking about. He might not be reminding me to close the drawer I’ve left open again or for permission to return the remote to its forever position.

Yes, yes, those are usually the case.

But he has more on his mind than filling his belly or fixing (what he sees as) our disorganized house.

And, I want him to know he can tell me those thoughts, too.

I’m desperate to hear them. Even more so now, home together, all the time.
The cookie-talk gets a little stale.

I am thinking about___

Someday he might answer with something I wasn’t expecting.

I guess that you miss seeing your friends and family in person.
I think that you get bored sometimes.
I bet that you wish, like me, that we were at the beach.
I hope that you’re not in pain or sad.
I wonder if you’re remembering something scary, or strange, or funny.

I assume that you’re thinking about a lot of things.

Let’s break out those cookies and you can tell me all about it.


On Turning 21 in 2020

I have mixed feelings about my son turning 21 in this year of pandemic and turmoil.

His 21st birthday, even in a pre-COVID19 world, would not be like most kids’ celebrations as they come into “legal” age. I could be disappointed about that for him.

But at this time, I’m just relieved we don’t have to argue with him about the safety of going out—like some of his young adult peers who are ignoring medical experts and partying as if they (and their loved ones) are invincible.

He stayed home for pizza and cake and games with his parents instead.

Unlike most others his age, he’s not working or going to school, and that’s a loss in some ways. 

But, at this time, I don’t have worry over the safety of his job, if his college campus will be open in the fall, if his dreams and ambitions will be delayed. 

From home, he shared a virtual roller coaster ride with his friends from his day program, and listened to everyone singing a joyous if slightly disjointed “Happy Birthday” song on their regular Friday Zoom meeting. 

Although my son is coming of age during an important time in our country’s history—a time when many of his same-age peers are getting involved in political activism for the first time, debating over issues of great importance to our nation and (hopefully) gearing up to vote on them—he’s unable to play an active part or voice his opinion. I’m sad about that, remembering the causes I began to care about when I was his age. Read More