Everyone Loves Sheldon: A Cautionary Tale

I am the parent of an eleven-year-old boy with Asperger’s Syndrome (diagnosed).

I am the ex-wife of a man with Asperger’s Syndrome (undiagnosed).  

Therein lies a dichotomy.

Enter Sheldon as my point of reference.

You know who I’m talking about, right? When I typed ‘Sheldon’ into the Google box, the first five results were about Jim Parson’s character on The Big Bang Theory.  This is Sheldon:

The co-creator of the sitcom, Bill Prady, says he didn’t have any particular disorder in mind when he developed Sheldon. This leads me to believe Bill Prady may have Asperger’s, but that’s neither here nor there.

By the way - Sheldon has a last name. It’s Cooper. I didn’t know that until I Googled him. Sheldon is identifiable enough by his first name alone. Everyone loves Sheldon. There are Facebook and Pinterest pages that say so. Despite his non-existent social skills and complete lack of empathy, there’s something sweet and childlike about Sheldon that endears him to us.

We all love Sheldon, but you have to remember that we get Sheldon in half hour doses, interrupted frequently with commercial breaks.

I found a real-life Sheldon. His intellect fascinated me. His childlikeness sparked some warped motherly instinct that made me want to take care of him. I thought his inability to understand humor and sarcasm was cute. He learned romance from movies and copied it. I thought it was adorable.

So I married Sheldon.

We had a son - Sheldon, Jr.

And then, after ten years with few, if any, commercial breaks, I realized I didn’t really love Sheldon and that was painful. I felt guilty. I still feel guilty, but that’s beside the point.

When I asked for a divorce, Sheldon wondered if I would eventually abandon our son because he also has Asperger’s. This question alone is indicative of Sheldon’s inability to understand relationships. Parental love is vastly different than romantic love.

My role as my son’s mother is to prepare him for life. One day I will send him out into the world and I have no doubt that he will struggle more than most, but he’ll make it. He’s smart. He’s funny. People like him. I’ll help him when he needs it, but because I love him, I will push him out of the nest eventually.

It turns out that I pushed my husband out of the nest first. (Metaphorically speaking of course. I actually left him alone in the nest.) I was alone and isolated in my marriage. Communication only flowed one way. The same qualities about Sheldon that I had found adorable became unbearable and I couldn’t fathom living the rest of my life in that situation.

So here I am, cautioning you against falling in love with Sheldon - even if he’s my son. Especially if you’re Penny. Sheldon and Penny would never last. Sorry.

If you’re Amy, however, it might work out.

Visit me on Twitter (@CeceliaHalbert) 

Act Stupid and Maybe They'll Hire You

“Hi, Cecelia,” says the voice on the other end of the phone. It’s the manager at the coffee store, part of a very huge and green labeled coffee company, who had interviewed me a couple of days earlier. “I wondered if you’d have time today to go meet the manager at another store. I think it’s the right fit for you.”

“Sure,” I answer in the most sparkly bright voice I can muster at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.  She tells me to see William at 2:30.  She had told me at the end of my interview (the 2^nd interview) on Thursday that she was delighted to offer me a position but wanted to check the other stores in her district to see who had the most urgent hiring needs. Remember you can’t wear nail polish when you work at  *Coffee Giant*. You might want to make sure you don’t have any on when you meet William.”

I walk bare-nailed into William’s store at 2:25 and see a man who doesn’t really look like he works there leaning in close to a young female employee. I figure he’s her boyfriend, but she’s looking uncomfortable. I surmise that perhaps he shouldn’t be bothering her at work and she knows it, but then to my surprise, he leaves her and goes over to another female employee, invading, rather inappropriately, her personal space as well, leering at her cleavage. The first girl notices me and asks what I’d like.

“Oh. I have an interview with William at 2:30.”

The creepy guy looks up at me and straightens his posture. “I’m William,” he says. “Get yourself something to drink, then come sit down at that table over there. I’ll be with you in a minute.” He points to a table in the front of the store, then goes into the back room.

“Okay.” I order a plain old ordinary coffee, even though whatever I want is on the house. I go sit at the small round table and wait for William, probably twenty-five years my junior, who arrives shortly with papers and a pen in hand. I recognize the forms from the previous two interviews I’ve had. They are full of behavioral questions followed by blank lines for the manager to write something about my answers.

This is my third interview for a barista job that pays $8.35 an hour. I’m kind of sick of these stupid questions. No - I’m REALLY sick of these questions, but I’ve gotten fairly adept at answering them.

“Tell me about a situation where you had a customer who wasn’t pleased with your service,” William asks. “What happened and how was the situation resolved?” I’ve answered this question twice already with two previous managers, so the answer I’ve fabricated and embellished rolls off my tongue. He nods, writes, and fires three more similar questions. I answer. I smile. I talk about how much I love serving customers and getting to know them. I tell him what a quick learner I am and that I enjoy fast-paced work. I don’t have to be told what to do. I find work that needs to be done. I want to tell him that I’ve been around the block a few times, I have a master’s degree and 35 years of widely varied work experience, I know how to count change back to a customer,  and he’s not going to find a better employee than me, but I don’t say any of that. I smile. I’m pleasant.

Then William asks me what my favorite drink is at *Famous and Huge Coffee Store*. I tell him I like the passion iced tea and the skinny mocha latte, but that most of the coffee I drink is at home. I tell him how much I love the new *Monstrous Coffee Company* mocha ground coffee.

“*Huge Coffee Company* does not sell flavored ground coffees,” he retorts adamantly.

“Yes they do. I buy it at Target.”

His eyes flare at my indignant response. “I assure you, we do not.”

“Okay,” I say, “but I’m pretty sure it was *Coffee Store You See on Every Corner* coffee. Maybe Target has a proprietary blend only sold at their stores.”

“Yeah,” he says, stacking his forms, tapping them on the table. “Maybe they do. Anyway, I’ll talk to the other manager and we’ll get back to you in a few days.”

“Great,” I say while extending my right arm toward him. He reluctantly shakes my hand and disappears from the front of the store into the back room. I get in my car and go home.

Five days go by with no word from *Coffee Store I No Longer Patronize*. I call the manager from the second interview who had told me she was offering me a position as a partner. I ask her if she'd heard anything from William about my interview with him.

“William didn’t call you?”

“No.”

“Oh.” There is an awkward silence. “He was supposed to call you. What we’re looking for is someone with more consistent availability.”

“My availability is consistent,” I say. “I’m always available the same hours, and you've known what those hours are since the first phone call you made to me four weeks ago.”

“But I mean,” she stammers, “We need someone who’s available every morning or every evening.”

I don’t press it. She’s a kid. William’s a kid. They think I don’t know bullshit when I hear it. William was threatened when I told him something he didn’t know.

I accepted a different job at a lovely place where I can wear fingernail polish.

And I’ll be damned if I ever buy anything with that Green Goddessy Looking label on it again - not even at Target.

Visit me on Twitter (@CeceliaHalbert)

Love is Like a Child

Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.

                                    --- William Shakespeare in The Two Gentlemen of Verona

So there I was, Googling along the internet, searching for an eloquent way to express my feelings and thought, “Who better to wax eloquent than Shakespeare?” and thus I found myself reading lists of Shakespeare quotes about love. Most of them I’d heard and none of them fit the moment, but then I saw this one. I read no further.

I can hardly expand on Shakespeare’s insightfulness, but I’m going to try because when I searched for interpretations of that quote I found little if anything at all.  Granted, I Googled the quote and its meaning and I looked through the first dozen or so returns - not necessarily what one would call extensive research, but it’s a blog post I’m writing, not a master’s thesis.

So this guy - this duke - so in love is he,  that he requires a ladder to climb to the chamber of the woman who is the object of his affection. He needs the ladder “this very night, because Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.”

Shakespeare knew what he was talking about. One taste of love  - one longing gaze into each other’s eyes, one passionate kiss - and we’re envisioning an altar, a life of bliss, a forever happily ever after with never a cross word, never a financial crisis…  we want it all. If you’ve ever been with a nine year old boy in the Lego aisle at Toys ‘R Us, you'll understand this analogy: You bought him one $7.99 70-piece X-wing fighter and he is now screaming for the $149.00 Millenium Falcon. He is totally infatuated with the Legos. He will never look at a Pokemon card again.

But be wary, Legos...  Your days are numbered. Minecraft is lurking around the corner and though you be enticing and he wants all of you, you are pricey and if you demand too much, he'll go running.

In my experience, it’s that ‘wanting it all’ that usually scares guys right off the ladder (am I right, girls?), so I'm suspicious of a guy who is so eager to be with this girl that he’s going to take any means necessary to scale the tower to climb into her room. Sure he wants her now, but when he realizes how much the Death Star (marriage) will cost, he'll be gone.

I’m afraid of 'longing for everything.' I fear scaring someone I love away because he's the kid in the Lego aisle wanting it all and realizing the commitment it will take to have it.

But if it’s the right guy - maybe even if I scare him off a few times, he’ll still come back.

Because he does long for everything he can come by.

Visit me on Twitter (@CeceliaHalbert) 

Be Careful What You Wish For

Once I wished for a life less ordinary and that’s exactly what I got. I forgot to specify, however, that what I wanted was ‘good’ less ordinary and not ‘traumatic’ less ordinary. To be fair, I did get quite a bit of good, but I also think I got more than my share of traumatic.

2012 became the inspiration for writing Up the Hill. Every single time I thought the story would veer off into fiction, some crazy event would occur and my best laid plans got laid off. (Laid is the operative word, by the way.)

Things are finally settling down around here - more or less - and the frightening thing is that I find myself missing the craziness. I wonder what’s wrong with me that I’m not content to live a mundane life of teaching, parenting, girlfriending, writing nice stories, etc., etc. Why is ‘every day’ not enough for me?

I thrive on chaos, apparently. Without it I’m unfocused.  Is it just me? I get more done when there’s more to do or when I’m under the most stress. I require more chaos in my life in order to be more productive.

So I find myself wishing again, but I’m going to try and be more specific about what it is I’m wishing for. Because I like a little crazy.

But this time I’m wishing for happy crazy.

Visit me on Twitter (@CeceliaHalbert) 

photo credit: Urban Woodswalker via http://photopin.com