Girl With the Long Blonde Hair

Hi.

Remember me?

Now, don't look at me like that. I know, I know. You're hurt. I haven't written. We didn't break up. I've just been...present.

Sort of in my life and not just observing it all the time.

You feel me?

I knew you would. You're good like that.

How are things?

We're good around here.

Summer has been eventful.

Some of you received a desperate missive from me, asking for prayers as Miss M started a performing arts day camp. A completely-NT-no-extra-help-let's-throw-her-in-there-and-see-what-happens camp.

Terrifying, yes.

Summer is always that time where we measure up to where she is next to other kids her age. As her school is small, private, and largely populated by boys (welcoming all kinds of learning differences, not just HF autism), we sometimes don't know where she is in the larger scheme of things.

It makes me want to poop my pants.

Anyway, she bravely went in, armed with Roxie, her tour-de-force sister, who looked as if she would cut-a-bitch-if anyone messed with her sister on that first day.

What I can tell you is this: The staff more or less gets it. I did the obligatory pull-aside explanation, with M's blessing (she is now at the age where she tells me if she wants disclosure or not) and they nod, understanding. They always seem confused, as she excels at so many things, and then something completely unexpected will throw the illusion.

She was just talking to us about species of flowers - so knowledgable - and then she almost started to cry when we had to break into groups of two?

Yes. That's the world we live in. High highs and befuddling what-the-fucks.

In all, she did great. She made two really, really good friends - one lives three doors away from us. Thank the Lordy lord.

She also was targeted by the Girl With the Long Blonde Hair, who found every way to get to her when the counselors weren't looking. Backstage, she'd slap M's hands when the curtains were closed. She'd elbow M in the side so that M would stay behind her (even though they were assigned as TWINS in the show - oy).

Our dinner table became a war room strategy collective. She was only too eager to bring up the day, and we'd do role plays, talk, come up with a plan, and always, slyly, mention that she could tell the counselor. If you know M, you know that she wants to deal with this shizz by herself. Not an option.

Of course, armed with homemade coffee cake or cookies in the morning, I'd quietly ask the counselors to keep an eye on GWLBH - you know, because I suspected that M was being targeted. It's amazing what people will do for a Magic Bar.

The next time GWLBH picked at M, M looked her in the eye and said, BACK OFF, DARCY (not real name, but very fitting).

And you know what?

Darcy did.

At the show, I noticed that M kept a very safe distance away from GWLBH and sort of skulked in the corners until it was time to say a line or sing. When she was on, she was, of course, the loudest, the funniest, and the most in-tune.

I think that camp was exhausting. She'd come home and we'd have our meeting, and her sister would say things like, "M, remember not to get your face too close to people you like - it freaks them out," and them M would say something like "Oh yeah, got it, right. Spatial relations," and slowly scoop rice into her mouth and take mental notes.

My heart ached for her. It soared for her. It was like she had to do two jobs at camp - memorize her role, rehearse, and then the play-within-a-play, rehearse her life and social skills.

She came home and would lie down often. Or we'd go for ice cream, and sit quietly, licking our cones. She deserved it.

Another session began this week. New show, new location, same staff, same organization. She strode in. She said hello to everyone. I brought the girls a half-hour early, to get their bearings, and sipped coffee and chatted with the staff.

M came over, only a 2 on the anxiety scale. "I'm not feeling the new space yet, Mom," she said. "Give it time, honey," I'd say, rubbing her arm. I looked over at the after-care room. Roxie had a table full of new friends already, making them laugh, coloring paper costume designs. "See if you can hang with Rox for a bit," I said. I watched as she went over the to younger girls, and Rox expansively opened her body up, scooting a tiny chair for her sister.

One of the counselors had some of the older girls with her. It was 10 minutes until the camp began. "Hey, M, would you help us stuff these scripts into the folders?" she said.

M's face turned crimson. I saw the tears well up. She walked over. The tears fell. "Give us a minute," I said. She was amping up. Started walking in circles.

"Outside, honey," I said, into the bracing, foggy San Francisco morning. "This is the first day, M. I don't want you to be a target, so I thought we'd cool down out here. What's wrong?" I asked.

"They were trying to push me around. Like GWLBH did at last session," she said, fighting back tears, blinking into the sky.

"Nah, honey. They were trying to acquaint you guys. You're all new. I mean, they're new. You're the professional. You've done the program. I do that all the time with my new students. It's called an ice breaker. They're trying to get you all opening up, talking, you know, on the same team." I admit, it's weird having to explain everything to her sometimes.

"You do? Really? Calculated like that?" Jesus, she's smart.

"Yep."

She stood stock still for another minute. Maybe two. I checked my phone surreptitiously, worried that she'd miss warm-ups, then where would we be?

"I"m done. Thanks, Mom."

And with that, she went in and had a good day.

I stopped hovering. I went in a few minutes later to get my coffee cup. Roxie glanced up from the warm up circle. She gave me a knowing nod and the finger O - everything would be OK.

Later that night, M took a shower.

Roxie showed us her tap routines peppered by lots of MOM MOM LOOK LOOK AT ME - YOU'RE NOT LOOKING.

Then she stopped.

"M was awesome today. She BELTED her song, and everybody was shocked. I think she's going to get the lead. And at warm ups, we had to do our name with a gesture and she did this -" she demonstrated a rock star hair swish and Pete -Townshend-esque air guitar jump. "Uh, I was shocked," Roxie said, "she can totally do all this stuff."

She listened intently to hear the shower, to make sure it was still going. She lowered her voice.

"I have a confession to make," my parochial school child offered, "You know that girl, GWLBH? I didn't tell M or anyone, but I went up to her at dress rehearsal and told her that she was not allowed to talk to my sister that way. I told her I didn't like it at all. I told her I'd be watching her." She started to do a little shuffle off to Buffalo, then ended in a semi-split. "I hope you don't mind." She looked at me.

The fact that this kid threatened a kid 4 years her senior and had the sensitivity to wait to unload all of this when her sister wasn't in earshot?

I've done my job.

"Thanks, Rox," and I meant it. I didn't know who successfully staved off GWLBH - M or Rox. I think M standing up for herself had the most effect. But that Rox had her back? It meant everything.

A few days later, M got the lead. The counselor kept muttering to me, "It's awesome, awesome to watch her bloom," and he said it this time with no coffee cake or cookies as a bribe. M is good. And they like her.

Later, we all snuggled on the sofa. There was no summit that night. Hasn't been for a few nights. I asked the girls if they'd enjoyed camp that day. "Oh yes," M said, snuggling in extra hard, and maybe rubbing her face a little too aggressively on me, but she always does that after 8pm. She's more than allowed to. It's our sundown time.

I asked if she liked the new batch of kids. "Oh yes. Much nicer this time." she said. Then I asked the question I hate to ask. "Have you made any new friends?" She thought for a moment. Roxie gave me a shrug with a knowing eyebrow wiggle. "Well, Mother. Not really. But I'm open and friendly to everyone. When I see someone that moves me, I will."

We sat on the sofa together for a while longer in silence.

"God, I love my family," she breathed in my ear.

And with that, I was satisfied.