Where we live, we have certain stores and activities close by and available to us. We have a local Autism Society Chapter. We have the ocean. We have a Walmart, a Michael’s, and a TJMaxx. We have to drive a little bit to get to a 4-screen movie theater. We have to drive even further for a Target, Old Navy, bowling alley, or an arcade. We have to drive a couple of hours to get to the big city stuff. Like a trampoline park.
We went in May last year, and The Boy had an absolute blast. But he was by himself, and after awhile, you realize it would be much more fun with friends. We talked about inviting his friend C and C’s brother and sister the next time we came, or possibly to celebrate their birthdays, as C and his brother are twins and have their birthday a month before The Boy’s. We talked about it several times with C’s mom, a friend of mine, because we would have to coordinate driving or possibly rent a vehicle big enough for all of us.
A couple of weeks ago, a picture popped up on my facebook feed from C’s mom. They were at the trampoline park. And I was miffed. We happened to be in the same town (two hours from home) that day, and my first thought was that The Boy was left out. It has been one of his most earnest wishes to go there with them, and we got nary a text about the trip?
And I have to admit that I’m still miffed, but I’ve mostly let it go, because it’s life and shit happens, and people aren’t as thoughtful as they could be. But mostly because I realized we need to diversify. The Boy doesn’t have enough friends, and we need to work on that, because depending on one family, one kid, is kind of sad, and rather hopeless when C’s mom is as scattered as she is (it’s not a knock – she really is incredibly scattered and disorganized, and she would be the first to tell you). So we’ll work on this, which is difficult for this introverted mom, but it needs to be done. We can’t live in a vacuum, and The Boy deserves to have some fun with friends.
But to him, it was like watching a friend die, and that core piece of The Boy’s autism, attachment to things, reared its head again. He insisted he had damaged it by dropping it, which he hadn’t. He insisted that it couldn’t possibly be replaced. We kept focusing on the fact that he is getting a new computer – a delayed Christmas present to replace the brand new one that crapped out on us the day after Christmas. He didn’t want to hear any of it. His old friend, the Gateway, was toast, and his world was ending.
This type of lack of organization has to do with executive functioning skills, often a deficit for kiddos on the spectrum, and many with ADHD. Without assistance and support, and regular lessons and routines to help them get their stuff together, they continue to not bring things home-bring the wrong things home-not turn stuff in.
It’s almost the end of February, which means it’s almost spring, which means, it’s almost IEP season. And at our next IEP meeting, I have to let the school know what we’ve decided about The Boy’s future – 
He also will never tell me he is experiencing pain, which worries this mama. In fourteen years, The Boy has never once complained of a headache, but he’s probably had one. And he definitely will not tell me if his dad’s absence and lack of communication is causing him pain, either. I have always told The Boy that he can call his dad anytime he likes. He has never taken me up on the offer. He has difficulty talking to him on the phone on the rare occasions that his dad calls him because he has difficulty creating conversation, and his dad doesn’t understand the types of questions to ask.
A couple of years ago, in an attempt to get him to do some chores, I tried to teach him how to fold and put away laundry. I still have him put it away for me (sometimes), but I do most of the folding. The other day, he happened to come into the living room the evening I was folding, and for some reason, The Man had turned Spongebob on – a rare occurrence. The Boy plopped on the couch, and I started handing him socks to match up. He not only matched them up, but balled them up the way I had taught him to do it. No prompting, nothing. He just did it, and with no complaint.
But I am especially grateful for those that just do it, as if they were put on this planet for that express purpose. They do it with compassion and insight, with fortitude and humor. The one who, in the midst of a less than stellar day, emails me to let me know that even then, she notices improvement. The one who, after a string of days of heartbreaking behavior, simply says, “Tomorrow will be a better day,” and I know she believes it. The one who always texts me after the meltdown to let me know it’s all ok.
Our school year has been riddled with two hour delays. And although my recent posts have been fairly centered on my (adverse) reaction to these, they do negatively affect The Boy, as well. As always, if he can expect it, and be prepped for it, the result is mitigated. But if it comes as a surprise, and is combined with other students being absent, teachers being late… It’s not very pretty, and this was the case this past Monday.
Simple. I Just Do. 