An Open Letter to the Ex: Why the Boy Will Not Be Flying by Himself Anytime Soon

English: Airpot the Caraño of Quibdo Español: ...

Dear ex,

Our son was diagnosed almost 6 years ago with autism – do you remember?  Autism is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive behaviors and poor social skills.  Our son, in particular, has a great deal of anxiety about time (being on time, being first to school, timers, etc.).  He also does not always respond when spoken to, gets easily flustered by changes in his schedule, and sometimes needs a great deal of sensory stimulation.  Autism does not “go away”, and there is no cure.  Just because you have not seen him have a meltdown in a long while, does not mean that he has not had a meltdown in a long while.  Remember, please, that you live three states away, and have only seen him for one week out of the last 52.

I understand that driving so far to pick him up for your irregular visitation time is a bother.  I realize that you think you have plenty of better ways of spending your time, and that having an independent son who could fly by himself on an airplane would be very helpful to you.

Unfortunately, your son is not independent enough to fly by himself on an airplane, and may never be.

Can I ask you to take a moment just to think about what you are proposing?  Think about all of the things that happen when a neurotypical person like yourself has ever flown a plane.  They may include

  • security screening where you have to take off clothing, put very specific items in bins, and follow very implicit directions (or you end up in a small poorly lit room in the bowels of the airport being asked about all and sundry)
  • navigating an airport, and trying to decipher screens, maps, and just where those bathrooms are and if you have time or not to use one
  • waiting in lines, very near other people
  • waiting at a gate, occupying yourself for the two hours you now have because you are supposed to arrive so early for your flight
  • following very implicit directions about when to board the flight and what to do with your belongings once you get on the flight
  • following very implicit directions about staying seated and belted, and understanding all of the social rules about switching seats, using the bathroom, and handing over trash
  • occupying yourself, often without electronics, for the duration of the flight

And that list is what happens when there are no flight delays or cancellations, no problems whatsoever.

Now imagine your son who has autism, attempting that by himself.

I realize that with children, much of this is ameliorated by staff members who do much to aid the child through the process.  But The Boy is not a typical child, and I very much doubt that any staff person they would assign to him would have any insight into his disorder or possible outcomes stemming from it.  And if we are trying to predict when The Boy would be independent enough to do all of this, it could well be after he reaches an age where the airlines are willing to assist him like that.

So, in short, it’s not going to happen any time soon.  And I have a sneaking suspicion this is all moot anyway, because you would have to pay for the plane ticket, and that’s not bloody likely either.

Sunday Shout-Out: Love That Max

Ellen Seidman’s blog, Love That Max combines wonderful stories about life with her son, Max, who has cerebral palsy, and large doses of advocacy.  She tells stories that special needs moms can relate to, not being able to have a normal out-to-dinner experience, rejoicing when Max has an opportunity to work at a car wash, and she writes about the r-word.  She has become such a cogent voice for us on that issue that she has been interviewed by major news outlets about it, and she never fails to articulate our feelings clearly.  She’s one of my heroes on that score alone.

Right now on her blog, and on twitter she’s telling the world about groups that are helping families with special needs children in the wake of Sandy, and how we can help.

If you haven’t already, go read Love That Max (and follow her on twitter @LoveThatMax).  You’ll see how amazing Ellen and Max both are.

Weighty Issue

I went to the doctor today and had the requisite “weigh-in”, and I’m about 15 pounds over my normal weight.  That’s what I get for not owning a scale, I guess.  And so I started mulling over this whole increased-cellulite/Holy-crap-I-haven’t-been-this-heavy-since-right-nefore-my-divorce/hate-to-workout … Continue reading

A Look Back at October

Can you believe it’s November?  Here are some of the top posts from October you may have missed: One of the Toughest Things The irony of autism is its unpredictability, when the person with autism craves predictability… Birthdays Past and … Continue reading

Feelings… Nothing More than Feelings

Angry Talk (Comic Style)

You know what I don’t understand? When people say things like,

“Don’t worry about it!”, or “Don’t feel guilty, sad, angry, etc.”

Newsflash: We cannot control what we feel.  And you cannot change your emotions.

For instance, when we have a rough morning, and something has triggered anxiety in The Boy to the level that he is refusing to leave the house, I get angry.  I am not angry with The Boy, and as long as I don’t aim my anger at him, it is perfectly OK for me to feel that way.  I am angry because I fear I will not get to work on time, and I fear he will have a rough day at school. Reasonable, given the circumstances.

For instance, when I feel guilty that The Boy has no pets, but clearly has a love for animals, it’s OK for me to feel that way.  I can’t control it.  I feel guilty because I fear that I am not providing him with opportunities to develop his interest in animals.  As long as the guilt doesn’t overpower me, as long as I use it to spur thought about how I could help him more in this area, the guilt I feel is OK, and can even be a positive force.

The challenge is having the self-awareness to understand the basis of the emotion: where is it coming from? Can I do anything about that right now?

The other challenge in my life experience is to make sure that my emotions are not escalating The Boy’s emotions.  If he is anxious, and I am angry (and I express that anger), he will only get more anxious.  Therefore I need to (quickly) figure out my own emotions, so that I can avoid negatively affecting him.

Rather than telling somebody, “Don’t feel that way!”, try expressing your own emotions.  “It makes me sad when you feel sad,” is a  much more open, accepting, and constructive way to show how much you care about the other person, and sounds much less flippant and judgmental than “Don’t worry about it!” or “Don’t feel sad.”

This Week

This week I am…

Reading lots and lots of blogs, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (with The Boy), and The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss (recommended here, by Holly Burns at Nothing But Bonfires whose writing I love, and figure if her book recommendations are half as good as her writing, I’m golden!)

Cooking pizza puffs, ugly chicken (looks nasty [nothing like the pic on the site] but tastes sooooooo good), and pasta, using my best friend’s husband’s meat sauce (he’s a chef!)

Anticipating the World Series (Go Tigers!), the delivery of my new Kindle (in November!), the new James Bond movie (love me some Daniel Craig [swoon <3]), Thanksgiving (only 30 days until I see The Man again!), and Friday, always Friday

Listening to Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and Feist (The Metals album) – I LOVE this version of Undiscovered First, especially at about 3:50, when she starts whacking the roof of the car for percussive effect.

Keeping an eye on The Boy’s cold, his reaction to attending his first funeral (maybe), and how he handles one of his best buddies moving away

Finding every excuse not to work out

Getting up the nerve to write a letter to our neighbor about the volume of her TV (or is it a radio) every morning at 5:30am

In disbelief that I’m hearing Christmas music as we begin to prepare for our next concert in class, and hearing the s-word in our forecast

Savoring any sleep I can get, the chocolate chip cookies I made last week, the Ghirardelli chocolates The Man got me for my birthday (my favorites!), my homemade sweet tea, and a relatively quiet house in the evening

___

This post is modeled after this one from Ali Edwards…

Body Image, Cellulite, and The Man’s Perspective

Scale

Scale (Photo credit: vividBreeze)

I’m getting older.  I know this not because I actually know how old I am in years – I am already to that point where I don’t consciously think about how many years I have been alive and often have to do the math to figure out the correct number.  I know this because I had to go buy a new pair of pants the other day because I needed a bigger size.  And when I looked in the mirror (something I don’t have in my room, nor do I own a scale) I saw the cellulite I have seen making its way into the limelight over the past year.  I saw it plain as day, and I was, for the first time since middle school, a bit ashamed of my body.

Middle school was a rough time (wasn’t it for everyone?).  I am still in middle school, as a teacher, and I know intimately that no one wants to relive it.  As a student, I struggled with how others viewed me as much as the next kid, if not more.  I look back remembering the whole time period as angst-ridden about my appearance, when in actuality, there were maybe three incidents that were burned into my memory, forever tarnishing the whole experience.  Magically, I turned a corner in high school and never looked back, consciously deciding not to give a rip about what anyone thought about how I looked.  That is not to say that I did not care about my appearance, but I didn’t ever dress or do anything else to my body to please anyone besides myself.

Until now.  Here I am, for the first time since then, looking at my own body with self-doubt, wondering how long The Man will find me attractive, and if I will continue to gain weight, getting fatter and fatter… Part of my problem is that I never had a weight problem, and never worked out.  Why would I if I didn’t need to?  Don’t hate, please, if you have struggled with weight.  Just like we shouldn’t scorn those who are heavier than us, we also shouldn’t scorn those who are thinner than us.  I had nothing to do with it, it was just how it was.  And now that I really could use the exercise, it is a foreign concept to me, and it has been hard to incorporate into my already hectic schedule.  Something else will have to go if I am to add regular exercise to my schedule, and I’m not sure what I can afford to leave behind to make room.  It won’t be sleep.  That I can tell you for sure.  I will not be waking up earlier than I do, nor will I be staying up later.  Something else will have to give.

In any case, The Man reassures me that I have nothing to fear in regard to whether or not he still finds me attractive.  According to him, while a woman is running through a litany of things in her mind that her man might not find attractive (Can he see the cellulite on my thighs? How about the hair growing out of that mole?  My cuticles in need of a manicure?  That pimple on my nose? My split ends?)  The man looks at her and thinks, “Wow!  I get to touch her boobies!”

Ha!

Take that, cellulite!