Tag: Autism Parent

Posted on

Sharing the Autism Spotlight

I have a few favorite bloggers, as I am sure you do as well.

Things have been very hectic in my house lately, so I thought I would share one of the posts that I related to recently.  It is by Bacon and Juiceboxes: Our Life With Autism.

“G.I. Joe’s”

“They’re not as sweet as an old family heirloom. They aren’t as romantic as Daddy’s first BB gun, or Little League baseball glove. But for me, they are nostalgic. They bring me back to a simpler time in my life. I spent countless hours playing with them in my bedroom, in our basement, in the patch of woods behind our house that, to me, was as expansive as the universe itself. They dominated every Christmas, birthday, and the occasional good-report-card day of my childhood.

When I turned fourteen and discovered those mythical creatures called “girls”, I packed them with more love and care than I would ever admit to those scary, pretty creatures and stored them away in our attic.

Even back then, I had a silly fantasy of carefully wrapping them all and giving my future son one magical Christmas morning. I figured his ninth, maybe tenth. We would unwrap them together and set them up in a magical epic battle scene of good vs. evil. Until then, they would remain in their protective boxes, stored away in the secret corner of the attic. I had such grand and silly plans.

First, I met my beautiful wife. Still, they sat unopened. (Well, I may have opened them once and may or may not have whispered a “pew, pew” or two)

Then, our first child. Her name was Anna. She wouldn’t be interested. They remained unopened.

Then, our son. My plan was unfolding perfectly.

My parents sold my childhood home and the boxes were moved into their new basement. God slowly revealed His own plan to me. It was different than mine, of course, and as I have learned, it’s the only plan that really counts. My son is turning fourteen himself this year. Those boxes are still sitting in my parents’ basement. That makes me a little sad (a lot sad sometimes) and that’s O.K. It was a silly fantasy that was never promised. I’ll trust God’s plan and focus on the wonder that is our life. And, I’ll forgive myself and allow a minute or two of self-pity when I feel like a good epic battle of good vs. evil that has never interested my beautiful son. Then, I’ll get back to it… back to what makes him happy… back to God’s plan… back to what really matters.”

This touched me as Buddy recently had a birthday… this year was harder for me than most.  I actually had a week or two where I was honestly depressed. I think, because this birthday would have been one where I had imagined him on his own, married and starting his family of 2 children (a boy and girl). He would have been working at his dream job, and asking advice on buying his first home.  I would have been helping his sweet wife pick out curtains and baby clothes.   But instead, I bought him a new Tonka truck, and a bunch of airplanes.  And I also did something that was very hard …I went up into the attic and got down his highchair (that I was saving for his children) and I gave it away.

That was last month,  things are back to normal now…Buddy loves his Tonka and planes (he sleeps with them all) and we are also back to God’s plan, and yes, it is what really matters.

Please take a minute and go to Mr. Bacon’s Facebook page and enjoy some of his wonderful posts.

~ASM

 

Posted on

ISO A New Best Friend

ISO  Best friend, must have a great sense of humor, compassion, be intuitive and know how to “take it to the grave”.  Preferably a woman, with at least one child, bonus if the child has special needs, such as autism, extra bonus if said child is a young adult.

She must be able to differentiate between venting and literal meaning in regards to husband ranting.  If I say “I want to kill my husband” she needs to know weather to hand me bowl of ice cream, or to start Googling “How to get blood  out of the carpet without fading the color.”

She needs to be able cheer with me when my autistic child reaches a long overdo milestone, and not get grossed out when I talk about some of the not so pleasantries that come with being an autism mom.

She needs to be able to look at me and know that I NEED to get out of the house and have a girls day, because the overwhelming black cloud that follows me around, is getting so close that it’s starting to block out the sun. Or that I need  her to just bring her hubby and kids over with a board game and snacks for a communal gathering.

She cannot be judgmental, especially about the condition of my house if she drops in unexpectedly, or about my weight.  However, she needs to motivate me by saying  things such as “Your house smells great,  I think it’s the smell of the fabric softener lofting through the air, from the heaping pile of laundry on the couch, waiting to be folded.” and “Come on, get your sneakers on, I feel like a 2 mile walk n talk.”

She needs to be able to read between the lines, when I say things like “Mary’s daughter just had a baby,  Mary is now a Grandma!”  and know that what I am really saying is “How lucky Mary is, I envy her, I will never be a grandmother.”

She needs to be able to blurt out the lines to a movie or sing a bit of a song that pops into her head as it relates to our conversation.  Bonus if she can join in as I do it.

She needs to be able to get along with my family, and mix well with the white collars, blue collars and rednecks.

Above all, she needs to know that most of this information that I share with her, has to stay hidden in the room that I have created, because no one on the “outside” can ever know… they just wouldn’t understand.

This position is open until filled,  compensation will be matched accordingly.  Serious Inquiries only.

~ASM

Posted on

Playing with Autism

My 25 yr old son,  still likes toys and movies that are age appropriate for a toddler or small child.  I say that, as it is not appropriate for a 25 yr old man to play with cars and airplanes, or to watch Disney movies.

Watching Buddy play with all of his favorite toys, I always thought of him as being “childlike”.  But while sharing one of my many “Buddy Stories” with a co worker this week, my perspective changed.

If you set a  neurotypical 25 yr old  man alone in a room with Hot Wheels, how long would it take for him to start playing? 30 minutes…15….5??

How many grown women get excited when their little niece asks them to play Barbies?  <raises hand>

Buddy will play with his Hot Wheels, and the retired Marine next door, just bought a ’67 Corvette…is that not a toy??

The only difference is that my neighbor  can

1. afford and drive a Corvette and

2. he WILL play with Hot Wheels cars, if he thinks that no one is looking.

I think about all the dad’s with little boys,  and how they always buy them the cool toys cars…how often do you think that the dad is secretly looking forward to playing with them…well, with their son AND the cars.

I flashback to a Christmas many years ago,  my brother D.  who was about 10, had gotten a Figure 8 Race Track.  We played with that thing for hours upon hours during our childhood (he probably still has it).  But we didn’t play with it on Christmas.   On Christmas we sat on my bed and played with his new tape recorder (see, I told you it was a long time ago!) And the first recordings that we made, included the background yelling and cheering of our older brother R (he was about 20) and my father, as THEY played with D’s Figure  8 Race Track for HOURS upon hours.

So this all broadened my perspective,  I have been enlightened, my son DOES play with age appropriate toys. And that tickles me!

~ASM