May | 2016 | Simple. I Just Do.

I lost one of my two flute students to gymnastics this week.

When I was a middle school band director, I lost more than a few to hockey and dance.

But when I was a kid, this wasn’t a thing. Sure, kids were in soccer and I even took ballet in kindergarten. But this every-night-of-the-week-for-four-hours-a-night-oh-and-four-hours-on-Saturday-too was definitely not a thing. Neither were the moms who got mad because the rest of the world couldn’t accommodate their insane schedule. “What? You mean I can’t get a dentist appointment at 3am on a Sunday because that is the only time my kids are not in dance/gymnastics/swim/horse back riding/AAU badminton??”

*dragging over large soapbox*

*standing on said soapbox*

When I was a kid, we did this thing called “playing” with the neighborhood kids. We even had a game called “Ghost in the Graveyard” for when we were out past dark – shocking, I know. We rode bikes, climbed trees, ran through each other’s houses like packs of wild animals looking for fruit snacks, and then back out through the other door. I “taught school” to some younger children (for as long as they would stand it) on the hill in a neighbor’s yard across the street. We rode bigwheels back and forth down the street. When we got a little older, we walked across a small field (with garter snakes!) to the convenience store to buy candy.

We were not scheduled within an inch of our lives.

I think today’s parents have control issues. IMHO you should not be involved in any activity which eats up 24 hours of your free time per week at the age of 9. It’s wrong, and there will be long term consequences. Don’t you trust your children to any degree? Do they get any say in how they spend their waking hours?

Autistic kids aren’t usually much for team sports, and for this one small blessing, I am thankful. But even if The Boy were not on the spectrum, I would not be raising my child on scheduled time.

*crawling down off soapbox, albeit ungracefully because I only had the one year of ballet* At the Cape

I follow several blogs and facebook pages related to autism, as I’m sure most of you do, as well. Maddox from Maddox’s Autism Chronicles cracks me up on an almost daily basis. Melon and Boy from Cat on a Trampoline are a constant source of amazement, and their mom can be relied on for some seriously hilarious writing. Casey from Conversations with Casey is such a joyful spirit, and his mom is quite funny, too. But I’m here to tell you about Kreed.

Kreed from Kreed’s World, a Complex Journey through Autism is a handsome young man who is nonverbal but has recently been able to communicate with the world through his device. His mom, Erin, also shows the world what living life in an autism household is really like, when your child with autism rages and self-harms at times. Kreed has a whole host of medical issues, and is currently in the hospital, and has been for quite awhile. He’s been in intense pain, and the doctors aren’t exactly sure how to treat it. He’s also suffering due to too much carbon dioxide in his system. In fact, he’s doing so poorly, they have had to put him in a medically induced coma. Erin’s post the other day about having to walk out of the room when her child’s eyes were pleading with her to save him from the doctors trying to put him out was gut-wrenching.

And I’ll be honest that I’ve been tempted sometimes to scroll on by and save myself the pain of watching what this boy and his family are going through. But I don’t. Because I’ve been in that helpless situation with a baby in the hospital, whose life hangs in the balance. As you sit in the waiting room knowing you are powerless to help your child, and not having a clue if he will survive the night or not.

And when you read this, think about this, experience this, you realize the divide in our community is quite petty. We need to be there to support each other every damn day. We need to read and hear each other’s stories, and not scroll away from the pain. We need to reach out to each other when we are in our darkest moments to lift each other up. Because watching your child suffer is horrible. Watching him suffer and feeling alone on this Earth is even worse.

I’m going to make and send Erin a card for Mother’s Day, because let’s face it – we all have more than one mom on this planet who have taught us deep lessons about living. If you would like to support Erin and Kreed, visit their page, like it, follow it, send them something, help with their medical bills – whatever you would like to do. But at the very least, send good, supportive positive thoughts their way. They need them.

Kreed’s address: 2208 Valley View Drive Woodland Park, CO 80863

Update: Kreed is back up and on his feet this week, spending time in the hospital playground and at the piano! So happy to see this!