This may be it this week. I’ve been nagging myself to post, but we’ve opened the shop an hour earlier this week, and with The Boy home for vacation, my routine is so funky, I’m all messed up. So rather than stress, I thought I’d write a simple post to wish you all the happiness of the season.
My family is my heart and my happiness, and this week in particular, they are my focus.
Love you all to bits!
My boys and the beach
One of the bits of advice that hangs on is “Fake it ’til you make it.” This bit has rung true for me. I have been able to pretend long enough to get the hang of something more times than I can count. Part of getting out of this low, scary place I’ve been has been “faking” that I am in control. In other words, planning.
I’ve done several posts on planning, and how it’s just part of my DNA. And even though I don’t have much to plan at work (besides how I’m going to spend six hours a day with no customers, which is actually enjoyable), I have found some peace.
You may remember that that I was trying to determine if I was going to order a Plum Paper Planner or another Erin Condren earlier this fall. I ended up ordering the Plum Paper Planner, and it is very stylish, and lovely, and just what I wanted at the time.
About two weeks later, I found Midori Travelers Notebooks on Pinterest and fell in love. Had to have it, ordered one as an incentive for NaNoWriMo. It was so lovely to hold, and such a neat little niche of paper geeks that came along with it (I think I joined three different facebook groups). It was a fantastic motivator for NaNo (I won by the way!). I used it everyday, and loved how grown up and worldly it looked, as opposed to the sorority girlishness of the Erin Condren world, and I started to feel guilty toward my Plum Paper Planner.
Shortly after that, I came across the Bullet Journal again. I had dismissed it earlier because it sounded complicated. But the more I looked into it, the more creative I found it, and ironically, the more personalized. Way more personalized than Erin Condren or Plum Paper Planner could ever hope to be. Of course it was more work, but if the act of doing more work helps one find focus, remember more, and get more done, isn’t that a nifty trick?
On the last day of November, I started my BuJo (short for Bullet Journal), and have used it daily ever since. I was even able to take it to the meeting with the school administrators, with a page dedicated to the topics I’d like to discuss, and space on the facing page to take notes during the meeting. It is much more than a planner, containing “collections”, quotes, and goals. The community I have found (again on facebook and even instagram) has helped me plan, design my own setup, track habits I’d like to form, and figure out 100 life goals I’d like to achieve in the next ten years.
If it sounds hippy dippy, it’s really not. You can put into what you want, and take from it what you want. Goal setting was not something I had done in a long time, and what is better to do at your lowest point than set some goals and plan some ways to climb out of it?
If you are at all interested, you should check out this from the guy who came up with the system – Ryder, and this from one of the ladies who has made it fun – Kara Benz at BohoBerry (it’s actually the second in her series, but I find it more informative than the first). If not, that’s ok too. I just wanted to share what has helped me turn a corner.
And if you’re wondering about my Plum Paper Planner, I’m going to use it for blog planning and bill paying. That’s the plan, anyway 😉
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I mentioned yesterday that The Boy is very interested in getting a cell phone. The Man is convinced he will lose it, but I’m just relieved that he doesn’t want an iPhone. In fact, he isn’t interested in a smart phone. I still have to sit down with him and figure out what exactly he wants it for. I believe it’s mostly for the alarm clock capabilities, believe it or not.
The Man and I have discussed this before, and the difficulty here is limiting the use. I’m sure that’s not news to anyone else with a kid between the ages of 8 and 21, but remember, I did the iPad all wrong. He doesn’t get that there isn’t unlimited storage. He doesn’t get “the cloud,” and how you have to move or remove images and video in order to make more. He doesn’t get it. Or maybe he does, but just doesn’t want to. He laments that Steve Jobs died too young, before he could figure out how to give people unlimited storage. I kid you not.
So I want to be careful here. Tread softly. Get all of my information from my service provider about the best way to go about this. Pre-paid or not? What limits can I put on the account? Insurance? Can we use this old cell phone I just found in a box from twelve years ago (please, please, please)?…
We shall see how this plays out. Anyone with autism in their lives knows there’s more to consider. “I want Sonic on the back,” is a very real concern. Do they make cases or covers for this model, and if they do, is there a Sonic the Hedgehog version available? If not, we may have to consider a different phone…
Help me.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned that The Boy turns 14 this week. Still not quite sure how that is freakin’ possible, but apparently it’s true. And while he is asking for things like cell phones for his birthday and Christmas, he is still asking Santa.
This past weekend, we went to a Christmas Supper hosted by our local chapter of the Autism Society of America. It was pretty chaotic, and I’m not sure I could do that more than once a year, but a highlight of the evening for the kids was that there was a very real-looking Santa there to whom they could speak and with whom they could get pictures. He also handed out gifts to all of the kiddos.
When The Boy went up to retrieve his, he brought along his list (on his iPad) and proceeded to tell Santa about all of the other things he wanted in addition to the gift he was getting, and for which he was being prompted to say thank you. Very Real-Looking Santa didn’t look all that patient or impressed, which was cringe-inducing. And I started to think that maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s time to find a way to explain to The Boy that this little piece of fantasy isn’t quite true.
The reality is, he will be in high school next year, and he is already different enough. We have to fight for so much here, and even though he is accepted by his peers, it continues to be more like “tolerated” than “invited over to do fun things.” And while I want him to be comfortable in his own skin, I don’t want him to be sheltered just because he can. Because then, in some way, I’m using the autism to keep him little. He’s innocent enough on his own, I think, which is a whole ‘nother set of worries.
I’ll add it to the list of things we need to work on/approach after the holidays…
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is traditionally a half day. If you’ve had a school-aged child in the past fifteen years, you also know that many, many families forgo these wasted school days to add an extra day of vacation. What happens to our family is panic.
When other children miss school, The Boy can become inconsolable. And so it came to pass last Wednesday. He paced furiously, escaping the school at one point, sweeping things from surfaces in the office to the floor, “bumping” a counselor who he felt was in the way. He was allowed to call me, but my voice was not enough this time. He said he needed me to come pick him up. I told him it was a short day and to try to stick it out.
A wary-sounding counselor got back on the phone. I told her I had asked him to try to stick it out, and told her she could call me back if she needed to. Not ten minutes had gone by when she called and told me that there were “parents in the office who needed to get some things done” so I would need to come pick him up.
Wha…?
Ok. So I go to pick him up, and the principal asks me to “come on back” to her office. I was fairly unwilling. I do not need to be summoned into your office as if I’m some misbehaving child. I told her I didn’t have a lot of time, and followed her in. She said The Boy was upset because one of his friends was absent, and that he had even given his TA the finger. I almost laughed. I wanted to say, “So he’s communicating his anger in a pretty normal way? Awesome!” but I refrained. I just stopped talking, waiting for The Boy to be located and/or corralled back to the office. No one seemed to know what was really going on.
The Boy came back into the office, with his TA, and the principal immediately began speaking to him in that tone, telling him they would be discussing his behavior on Monday, and that he needed to apologize to his TA right now for giving her the finger. As is his wont, he immediately tried to tell me that he had “done something” to The Man this morning and needed to apologize for that, too. This was untrue, but this is what he does. When he perceives he is in trouble, he adds on imaginary infractions. I ensured he gave the TA a proper apology (or as close as we could get mid-meltdown), and then he announced he was going to stick it out for the rest of the day. Off they went.
The counselor and the principal informed me that we needed to meet regarding his behavior. (No, I’m thinking, we need to meet regarding your behavior.) I said we needed to be clear that this was autism, and this was going to happen from time to time. “He needs to learn the boundaries, here, that he can’t just leave the school!” the counselor said. I replied that The Boy is your best rule follower, but when one is in a meltdown, logic goes out the window. He is fully aware of the boundaries, but this would happen again. I said we need to be clear that this is not bad behavior. The principal assured me that she did. I said we needed to be clear that The Boy has a right to a public education. The principal assured me that they knew he did. I said we need the autism specialist at the meeting we were to have, and referred to her by first name. The principal had no idea who I was talking about, until I prompted her. She said she could make sure she was there. She said they need to tweak their strategies, as The Boy is getting older. I said ok, but this would happen again.
I was pretty riled. Their attitude, the tone they took with The Boy, the astonishment that he had “bumped” the counselor (yes, this happens all the time in special ed classrooms – is he the only child they have in the school with autism??)…
Strategies do need to be put in place because absolutely nothing has been done since the last time I was summoned to the principal’s office (do you think maybe a behavioral analysis might be a good idea??). After three years here, I am actually still shocked at the lack of autism awareness among the educators. I guess I need to pull out my lesson plans for Autism 101. “Class? Let’s begin. Rule number one: Behavior is Communication…”
Update: We had our meeting, and luckily the autism specialist was right on target (I basically ignored the principal and counselor, who weren’t contributing much anyway). We drafted a “crisis” plan, as well as a social story, and will meet again to formalize the plan and add it to the IEP. Unfortunately for the them, between absences surrounding the Thanksgiving weekend, and some suspicious activity at a couple of county schools (which turned out to be military personnel conducting a survey) and everyone keeping their kid home today, thinking this was somehow connected to the terror in San Bernadino yesterday… I’m anticipating the second morning phone call this week…
The Boy’s having a rough go right now, and I just hope they can pull this together.
The ex called last week, talked about putting The Boy on a plane with an assistance program, and promptly promised The Boy that he would see him around New Years, and that he would be flying on a plane.
*sigh*
He presented this idea as basically the only way he could see his son. He intimated that this program was free (which it’s so totally not). Not that I would be paying for it, but this is evidence of his lack of research. He admitted that the people probably have no knowledge about autism, “but who knows, we might get lucky! Sometimes they are former teachers!” Not the thing to say to me when I have a tentative meeting scheduled with the school principal and counselor who not only know nothing about autism, but didn’t even know who the county autism specialist was.
I started to think about actually allowing him to put The Boy on a plane. I tried to imagine him going through security. Sitting in the gate area and waiting. Getting on the plane. The possibility of delays. The timing of medication. The certainty that the flight attendant would tell him to turn off his electronics. The possibility that he might want to videotape the toilet on the plane with his iPad…
Um. No. The answer is still no. And by the way, if you can afford a plane ticket, you can afford to pay down your overdue balance on child support.
After a fairly rough meltdown, it takes awhile for The Man and I to process, as well. We were discussing the events of the weekend, and then The Man asked if there was anything we could do about The Boy’s insistence to strangers and acquaintances that we have a purple dog at home named Barney.
I shook my head noncommittally, as I was still focused on the situation that had triggered the meltdown this weekend. I wasn’t even thinking of anything else, but apparently The Man had some other things on his mind, as well.
I got quiet, and he asked if he had said something wrong or upset me. I started to cry because I was upset. Not with him, but because I didn’t really know the answer to his question, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I am not enough.
We used to have quite the “village” to help me navigate raising a boy on the spectrum. Now, I feel like I’m it, I’m the authority. I have stopped believing that anyone in the school system knows any more than I do about autism. And there’s a very obvious limit to what I know.
I don’t know if the fantasizing about pets and cars he has “owned” and all of that can be curbed (or should be curbed). I don’t know if it needs addressing or if it will go away with time. I just don’t know.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed with worry, and I guess I’m particularly susceptible to worry after a big meltdown. And I suppose that’s ok. But it’s not a nice feeling, and I hope it passes quickly.
Your challenges change over time. The same is true when raising a child on the spectrum. Yes, I no longer need to worry about The Boy bolting into a street or into the crowd at a mall. I no longer have to worry about acquiring words and peeling meat sticks so he will eat some protein.
I do have to worry about the increase in anxiety. I have to worry about how seriously I need to take the screams of “I hate my life!” and “Today is my last day!” I do have to worry about just how to handle a meltdown when my son is bigger than me, in a public venue, and out of control.
Saturday, the recording of toilets in public spaces issue reared its ugly head again. I should have known it was coming. His dad cancelled on him for Thanksgiving, and hasn’t called in several months. And the talk of toilet models and interest has increased exponentially. I should have known, but I didn’t. And I had to put my foot down and remind him that we don’t record toilets in public bathrooms. Suffice it to say, it didn’t go down well. Heh.
After he had calmed a bit on the way home (a two hour trip to our favorite town which was supposed to include a stop for me at a stationary store so I could give The Man some ideas for Christmas, but was cut short), part of The Boy’s plan was to show me how I was mistaken by showing me videos that others had taken in public restrooms. Ahem. Yes, he is indeed a teenager.
He calmed, but didn’t let it go as easily as he has in the past. He’s of an age where he is questioning authority. But autism mixes it all up because parts of him are teenager, and parts of him are 10 year old boy, and parts of him are too smart for his own good.
When we got home, I let him settle, and then we talked. We talked about how Mom and The Man make the rules, and it isn’t a democracy, although I will always listen to him. We talked about why some people might not understand his recording in a public bathroom, how they might misunderstand and be afraid. How they might call the police, and how the police might not understand. We talked about how The Man and I don’t want him to be in that situation. We talked about some of the things he had said to me when he was angry were not nice, and that everyone says things they don’t mean when they are angry, but that apologies are necessary afterward.
He still has a burning need to record toilets as they flush. I can’t erase that. But if he’s of an age where he can try to prove me wrong in some of my judgments, he’s old enough to listen to why I make the decisions I do.
(We also talked about how next time we go somewhere, we make mom’s stop first.)
Simple. I Just Do. 