iPads and Lessons

English: The logo for Apple Computer, now Appl...

We delivered the iPad to the repair place yesterday, and I think part of the lesson, why-we-shouldn’t-throw-iPads-when-we’re-angry, was the length of the drive to the repair shop, easily an hour and a half.  The Boy was not happy with the time involved, and I’m sure would not relish having to make that trip again, yet another thing to think about the next time he has an urge to take his anger out on his electronics.

I believe he also had a consequence for some behavior at camp yesterday (I say, “I believe” because no one from the camp mentioned it to me, but The Boy self-reported.  This could be encouraging, except that he sometimes makes these things up, and grossly exaggerates his offense, as well as the resulting consequence.  We really need communication logs…).  He explained that he was building a tower, and someone else kept knocking it down, so he said some not-nice things and had to sit out for parachute time, one of his favorite activities at camp.  When discussing this in the car, I brought up our old friend B.E.A.R. (Breath, Exhale, And Relax), a technique taught to The Boy in early elementary for diffusing his own anger.  I’m not sure how effective it has been over the years, but for whatever reason, it makes him giggle, and it also reminds him that there are other actions that he can take besides the obvious choices of throwing things, using not-nice words, etc.

The neat thing was, he made his own connection between the two incidents, and said that the next time he would Breathe, Exhale, And Relax instead of using not-nice words, and instead of throwing his iPad if he couldn’t reach Grammy on facetime.  Whoa.  Made his own connection, and used independent thought to find an alternative to venting his anger in a negative way.  To me, this is huge.  Way to go, little man!

The Fight

Last week, The Man and I had a moment, a disagreement, shall we say.  And I wasn’t sure if I was gonna go there, if I was going to share with you about this experience, because, well, some things are private, and dirty laundry and all that.  But I decided that sharing the essence of what happened is important because the whole point of this blog is sharing my true experiences as a single mom, now remarried mom raising a boy with autism, and possibly showing others in the same or similar boat that they aren’t alone.

So we had a moment.  We were getting ready to leave the house to visit some friends for dinner, all three of us.  The Man and The Boy had a disagreement in the kitchen about which lunchable to take with us in case he didn’t like the food being served.  The Man got angry and stomped off.  I assisted The Boy with his lunchable, got his things together and we went to wait in the car.  After waiting in the car for a bit, it was clear The Man wasn’t coming right out, so I went in.

And we argued.  And neither one of us was completely rational — I know I was defensive (naturally).  The argument petered out enough so that we could go be social with our friends, and over the course of dinner, everything got turned right again.  Afterwards, we apologized to each other and talked a bit about what happened, and it was all good.

BreatheBut I continued to think about the argument, because I had rarely been so angry with The Man.  And I wondered at my reaction, and then it dawned on me.  The previous day, I had reacted to The Boy much the same way when he refused to leave Grammy’s house at the appointed time, even with the help of multiple timers.  I was frustrated and handled it badly — I had stomped off in anger.  And that’s OK.  Everyone who lives with autism has those moments, where we rebel against this thing that runs our life sometimes, because it’s not fair.  We react, lightning-quick, with anger because just for that second our resources of patience have run thin from over-use.  We are human.

I had gotten so angry at The Man for being human, for having a moment of weakness, for not being perfect when I clearly wasn’t the day before.

The point is, if you live with autism, and never “lose it”, you need to be recommended for sainthood.  I know I’m not a saint, and I know I didn’t marry a saint.  And recognizing that, and seeing myself in my husband was a much needed paradigm shift.