I'm Not Fussy to Annoy You

I wrote about five paragraphs of this blog post yesterday...and then all but the first sentence disappeared.  Don't trust the internet, kids.  Not because it's full of porn or sexual predators or misinformation but because it'll swallow up your hard work (I have learned my lesson and am saving in Word from now on).  Okay, so a large portion of the post was about a spider above the window (which has worryingly disappeared today) but I still feel cheated (and a little worried the spider will appear again somewhere closer...).

So, I'll be writing this week's blog on a Sunday instead of a Saturday (yes, a week runs Monday-Sunday and I'm not having any of that Sunday-Saturday crap - Saturday and Sunday are called the weekend).  The topic this week is fussy eating.

I have read/heard the phrase 'I hate fussy eaters' or 'I can't stand adults who are picky eaters' or some other variation many, many times and it does feel like a personal attack.  I have mentioned my own fussiness in this blog where I looked at whether I was autistic.

I think the picky-eater-haters tend to fall into two camps.

The first camp don't think there's any excuse for being fussy with food full stop and if a child is picky then it must be because of indulgent and/or lazy parenting.  Again, this feels like an attack (wow, I'm obviously feeling very defensive today - I think it must be the assumption that spider could ambush me at any moment) because as well as being fussy myself, I have fussy children.  I hate being a fussy eater and have tried very hard to make sure Tyger and Baby Bear don't have that sort of relationship with food.  From first weaning them onto solids I gave them variety and healthy, balanced meals and even made sure I cooked them foods I don't like so as not to pass on my own distaste for certain foods.

Tyger was actually a relatively good eater as a baby.  I mean, it was quite hit or miss and even with the foods he liked, they tended to have to be prepared certain ways but he'd eat a good variety of fruit and veg. as well as a variety of carbs.  Gradually he got more restrictive but that's common with kids as they come up to the year mark so I carried on making those meals he'd gone off in the hope he'd come round again, though they tended to go uneaten and he'd have breadsticks/crackers and raisins instead.

Then we all caught a stomach bug.

That was the beginning of the end.  It started one evening when my stomach very suddenly swelled up (that does not sound right at all...swold, swolled, swalled...nope, none of those sound right, either) to about three times its usual size.  Luckily, I wasn't pregnant with a vampire baby (I wasn't sure whether to keep that reference because my knowledge of a certain set of popular vampire books isn't really something I'm proud of - I'll have to include either a good geeky reference or a highbrow literary reference later on in the post to try and reclaim some dignity); unluckily, I started violently throwing up and this continued through the night with the Wolf joining in (not at the same time - I'm all for doing things as a couple but that's just gross, not to mention impractical).  Tyger seemed blissfully unaffected and I thought maybe my superboobs had passed on immunity.  Unfortunately, that wasn't the case and partway through eating his dinner Tyger was afflicted with the dreaded bug.

I promise all this talk of throwing up is relevant...Well, the very last part is, at least; maybe the rest was just an overshare.  The following day Tyger seemed to be all better but come dinner time he gagged on his mouthful of food and brought it back up.  The next night he started gagging before the food even reached his mouth.  We had to abandon the use of the highchair for a while because he'd obviously made an association between it and being sick.  He also stopped eating most meals, including his favourites.

I'm not sure what the 'fussy children just have indulgent parents' brigade would have had me do.  Force feed him whilst he gagged and screamed?  Only serve him food I knew he wouldn't eat and let him go hungry?  Actually, I know lots of parents do this and almost always have a 'my parents did it to me and I lived' attitude (because...you can do anything to a child so long as it doesn't kill them??).  I mean, I often give Tyger a meal I know he does like/will eat and he refuses it so I tell him it's that or nothing.  I don't think there's anything wrong with that; I refuse to run back and forth to the kitchen half a dozen times trying to find him something he fancies (which would invariably be plain pasta, drained and then dried with kitchen roll at the moment).  But I don't make him something I know he doesn't like and then stand over him, telling him he must eat it whilst he cries.  Even if I didn't think that's pretty cruel, it simply doesn't work.  I know plenty of people who - as adults - shudder at the thought of certain food because they were forced to eat it by their parents or by some horrid dinner lady as a child.  So, what's the point in forcing them??

I still give Tyger food he doesn't like because he's never going to like it if it's never even available for him to try.  But I just give him a small amount alongside things he does like and I certainly don't force him to eat it.  In fact, his beloved pasta was actually quite a recent conquest.  Going back a few months, he wouldn't touch it.

I also give Baby Bear food he doesn't like in the hope he'll at least try it now and then.  He has always been funny with certain food textures (as I wrote about in more detail here) and I don't hold out much hope he'll be any less fussy than Tyger but he does at least eat some vegetable at the moment, even if his fruit selection is more limited than his older brother's.

So, I do feel miffed when parents of fussy eaters are attacked.  I don't think I'm complacent when it comes to the diet and health of my cubs but they're still both picky little things.  That's just how they are.  Perhaps it's related to ASD, perhaps not.  Either way, I don't see it changing any time soon.

Then, there's the second camp of critics.  These people will accept or at least tolerate food pickiness in children but can't stand it in adults.  I guess it's something people should 'grow out of'.  I don't really know what to say to that.  I haven't grown out of it.  I'm not sure how to force myself into growing out of something.  There's this great myth that health visitors and proponents of the belief adults shouldn't be fussy will tell you: apparently, if you eat a food you dislike a certain number of times (say, 20 times) you'll train yourself to like it.  Bullshit.  I can tell you, categorically, that is not true.  I have eaten onions probably hundreds of times and I still detest them.  I want to like them.  Do you know how hard it is to find food you like when you're a vegetarian who doesn't like onions??  My life would be much easier if I liked onions, tomatoes and peppers (apparently the basis for any and every vegetarian meal in all restaurants ever) but I don't.

My mum also heard this myth and tried it with my youngest sister, who is also very fussy.  She gave my sister hated foods again and again - possibly in the hope she wouldn't have another fussy eater on her hands - and my sister still hates them.  Talking of siblings, I'm not sure how anyone who blames parents for food issues explain the fact me and my sisters are all pretty picky but my brother will eat anything and everything.  We all have the same parents!

I'm also not sure what the people who hate fussy adults want me to do.  They seem to think being fussy is in some way a deliberate act to inconvenience them.  Well, you know what?  It's far more inconvenient for me.  Yes, I feel hugely guilty when I go to someone's house for a meal and they have to cook me something specially but I'm really not doing it on purpose.  Insulting someone you like by telling them you just can't eat the food they've put time and effort into making is not fun.  In fact, generally, I don't say anything.  I will always mention beforehand that I'm fussy in the hope the host will take pity and ask me what I do like but if I am given a plate or bowl of food full of my most hated ingredients I don't tend to speak up unless an understanding family member has cooked.  I normally try to eat as much as I possibly manage to be polite.  I chew the absolute minimum and desperately try to hold in the gagging that involuntarily accompanies certain foods.  I wish I had some funny anecdote about surreptitiously feeding dogs under the table or stashing food in my bag to dispose of later but I wouldn't dare do anything like that for fear of being caught; you'll just have to imagine your own amusing scenario.

So, please go easy on us poor fussy eaters.  We really aren't doing it on purpose and I can guarantee you our fussiness is more difficult for us than it is for you!

I'll end with this quote from my favourite poem, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot:

          And I have known the eyes already, known them all-
          The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase.

Not because it's particularly relevant, you understand, but because I still feel embarrassed by the Twilight reference earlier and hope this will redress the balance.

Also, there's still no sign of the spider.  If I never write another blog post, you'll know it pulled off the ambush and I'll never annoy anyone with my fussiness again.

Am I Autistic?

My family have joked about getting my mum a t-shirt with the words 'I See Autistic People' printed on it.  You know, like the whole 'I see dead people' thing in The Sixth Sense?  I don't know how popular that film is these days - does that reference need to be explained or is it still obvious?  I'm not really good at keeping up with popular culture.  You know what: I feel like that film gets a bad rap these days.  I still like it.

Nineties Bruce Willis films aside, after my sister received her diagnosis my mum started to analyse everyone she knew for signs of ASD.  It's not uncommon.  I find myself doing the same these days and I'm sure other people do it too.  There are people like my dad who - once you know about ASD - are obviously autistic (I don't think he'll mind me pointing it out).  Back when he was a child they didn't diagnose such high functioning individuals so he has no official diagnosis but there is no question about it: my dad is as autistic as my sister.  However, there are also a lot of people - especially in my immediate family - who have a lot of autistic traits but not enough or not intensely enough to actually be on the spectrum.  Or far enough along the spectrum.  I'm not sure if the spectrum starts at 'neurotypical' and goes all the way along to severely autistic or if the spectrum only starts at the 'just about autistic'/Asperger's point.  Maybe I should look into that.

My mum has pointed out some of my ASD traits, as has the Wolf, and I've noticed others on my own.  I thought it might be worth sharing some of them.  I'll start by introducing you to the sort of...oddness I displayed at the age of four (imagine the Wayne's World style wibbly wobbly effects as I take you into a flashback if you like).  When I started school my mum was concerned about her daughter fitting in and asked me who I played with at break time.  I told her I didn't play with anyone, I just sat on the wall and ate my apple by myself.  Poor Mum was distressed by the thought of me having been bullied or shunned but it turned out I chose to distance myself from the other kids at this time every day because you can't eat an apple whilst you're running around and apparently those other children were 'silly'.  Yes, at the age of four I thought other children wanting to run around and play at a time that was clearly better suited to sitting and eating a healthy snack was 'silly'.

Want to know another adorable, not-at-all-creepy thing I did as a child of a similar age?  I'd go up to strangers - mostly little old ladies - at the meat counter in the supermarket and say, 'You shouldn't eat dead animals!'  Oh yeah, I'm vegetarian.  In case that hadn't come up before.  That's kind of important to the whole anecdote...maybe I should have mentioned it first.  Anyway, I have no idea where Tyger got his social inappropriateness from...

Oh, and the reason I had an apple at break every day was because the school had a 'fruit only' policy on break time snacks and apples were pretty much the only fruit I'd eat.  Sooo, I might moan a lot about Tyger's fussiness with food but I'm not the easiest person to cater for, myself.  I'm a vegetarian who doesn't like onions, tomatoes, peppers, aubergines or leeks (and that's just the beginning).  Considering most restaurants seem to think people only become vegetarian for the love of these particular foods, eating out is difficult.  There's a mix of taste and texture issues, I'm sure.  I haven't really given much thought as to why I don't like certain foods, I just try to avoid them as much as I can, but I'm pretty sure it all counts as a sensory problem.

Another sensory issue I have is sensitivity to sound.  I don't mind having reasonably loud music on if I'm not talking to anyone or doing anything more than perhaps reading or messing around on the internet (basically, my 'hobbies' pre-kids).  But as soon as someone tries to speak to me I want all background noise to be way, way down.  The Wolf used to put a film or something on the TV whilst also playing on the computer and then would also talk to me and I wanted to shout at him, 'What are you doing, you maniac??  Why are you assaulting our ears like this?'  And after a film finishes when you're at home, why doesn't everyone immediately turn down - or preferably mute - the sound once the credits start?  It's like a physical presence.  Don't get me started on the hell that is the sound of someone sweeping concrete!  Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.  And as for speaking on the phone...well...

I hate making phonecalls.  Hate, hate, hate it.  And if I do have to - you guessed it - I don't like to have any background noise.  It's to much; I can't cope.  Why do I hate making phonecalls?  A bit like the whole food thing, I don't tend to think about the why but here goes.  I don't like talking to people when I can't see their expressions and body language; I don't like the fact that most phonecalls come with some sort of expectation (even if it's just knowing when I'm available for an appointment); I don't like the fact I might not be able to understand what the person's saying due to a bad connection, someone talking to quietly or quickly, accent etc., I don't like the fact they might ask me something I don't know the answer to.  It's mostly just not being able to see them.  I don't know why that makes such a big difference but it does.  And everyone having mobile phones has just made it so much worse.

I get social anxiety when I see people face to face as well, though not anywhere near as bad and generally for different reasons.  I obsess over whether I've said something offensive or inappropriate.  I'm constantly worried I've upset or offended pretty much everyone I ever have contact with, actually.  'Oh, Christ, when I asked how their day has been did it seem like I was being nosy?  When they asked if I'd like a cup of tea were they actually just being polite and were pissed off when I said 'yes'?  What if they were upset when I complimented them on their hair because it sounded like I normally think it looks shit??'  Even in my relatively reclusive existence there are plenty of these moments a week (or day...).

And talking of being obsessive...I get obsessed with all sorts.  There are the obvious things like TV shows, films, books, music but luckily, the Wolf - who is almost certainly further along the spectrum than I am - is also pretty obsessive so we often get obsessed together.  But then I also get obsessed with certain foods and will eat the same thing repeatedly.  Or I'll get obsessed with a topic and google the frak out of it for several days (at university I once looked after a friend's pet rats for a while when she was away and at the time I was an expert on rats because I looked up every single fact I could find about them before taking on that responsibility).

I also have some physical habits/ticks/whatever.  It seems I wipe my hands on my shoulders (the same shoulder so left hand on left shoulder and right on right).  I didn't know I did this until one day at high school I commented on the unusual level of crumbs I seemed to get on my shoulders and a friend explained why.  I absent-mindedly scratch the back of my neck to the point where it becomes scabby.  I also have a habit of pushing my fingers and thumbs back away from the nails because otherwise they feel sort of uncomfortable.  I thought this was a normal thing until I mentioned it to my mum once...it's apparently not normal.  I assume the fact I sometimes lick the tips of my fingers first for a better grip when doing it is even less normal (I understand fully if you no longer feel comfortable reading my blog, knowing how odd I actually am).

This is the tip of the iceberg.  No doubt - if my mum or the Wolf read this - I'll be asked why I haven't included the fact I have to have the eggs laid out symmetrically in the egg box and am more likely to buy eggs in boxes of 15 to more easily facilitate this, or the fact I often talk too loudly (especially on the dreaded phone), or how I'm really particular about clothing because I find so much of it uncomfortable, and so on.  I have quite a lot of ASD traits, is what I'm getting at.

So, you're probably thinking, 'but I get obsessed with my favourite TV show,' or, 'yeah, loads of people hate certain sounds,' or, 'I know some fussy eaters.'  And that's kind of the point of this blog post.  It's why it's so hard to answer the question, 'Why do you think Tyger is autistic?'  Every trait I mention could apply to loads of neurotypical people.  It's the sheer number of them, the extent of them and - probably most importantly - how much they affect day to day life that makes it ASD rather than a few quirks like everyone has.  My noise sensitivity means I get a bit irritated sometimes and I find it hard to focus when I'm in crowds.  I don't get so overloaded I can't move or I start screaming or sobbing or rocking.  My food fussiness means I have to be extra nice to restaurant staff so they're more likely to agree to modify a meal for me.  It doesn't mean I only have five foods I'll eat every day and I'll go into meltdown because two foods on my plate touch (though, I'd rather they didn't.  Come on, who wants their beans to touch their mushrooms??) or that I'll only eat pasta not only plain but also dried with kitchen roll so it's not too 'wet'.  My obsessions can be controlled - they don't control me.

Am I autistic?  No.  I have many traits but I have seen how ASD affects someone who has it and I am nowhere near that.  I can empathise to an extent but I have not lived it.