THAT'S What you Bring up in Therapy?!?!

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Boo walked to a friend's house with instructions to be home by 5:00.

Albert and I, still being 'newlyweds' of sorts, decided to have some 'quality time'. To put it delicately, 'quality time' was over but we were cuddling and talking.

We did not hear Boo come through the front door.  Hours early.

We DID hear Boo stand at our open bedroom door and scream.

We heard him scream and run all the way down the stairs to his room, we heard him scream and bang his head on the wall, and we heard him scream while he twisted his glasses into a knot, probably hoping he would never see anything again.  Ever.

The next morning, while he was still freaked out, and had no glasses, I called Mrs. G. one of his two favorite teachers.  It was, by far, the most awkward conversation I have ever had with a teacher.  I was afraid that all of his teachers would ask where his glasses were, and that he would have no response he was comfortable with.

He came home in much better spirits, telling us that Mrs. G. told him that almost everyone, unfortunately, catches their parents.  It's just that most people never speak of it.  And Mrs. V. told him that her friend once caught her grandparents.  I think his exact words were, "Ew, gross.  That's even worse!"

Luckily, we managed to move on, but a few weeks later we were at Boo's doctor's office.  My hubby and I were out in the waiting room while Boo was in there by himself.  Boo came out, obviously upset, wouldn't look at us, sat down, and the doctor called us in for 'our turn'.

We all sat down, and the doctor broke the silence with, "So, I hear it has been a bit eventful lately.  Boo is pretty upset."

For a few seconds, my husband and I looked at each other, and we both thought, "Aw, crap.  This is going to be embarrassing."

Before we had a chance to speak, the doctor continued.  "So, Albert, I understand that you and Boo are arguing about you putting the bread in the refrigerator rather than leaving it on the counter like he is used to."

Seriously.  The subject of catching us naked has NEVER come up in therapy.  The bread in the fridge?  Still an occasional topic.

Why the Trayvon Martin Case Scares Me

Note: I have several friends in law enforcement.  I would trust them with my life.  More importantly, I would trust them with my son's life.  But, like most mothers, I do not necessarily trust strangers with my son's life.

I doubt that there is a parent in the United States who hasn't been emotionally touched this week by the tragic death of Trayvon Martin.

President Obama's commented, "You know, if I had a son he would look like Trayvon."

Dwayne Wade (Miami Heat basketball player) said, "As a father, this hits home. This situation hit home for me because last Christmas, all my oldest son wanted as a gift was hoodies. So when I heard about this a week ago, I thought of my sons. I'm speaking up because I feel it's necessary that we get past the stereotype of young, black men and especially with our youth."

Boo is biracial, but is very light and (to use a politically incorrect term and concept) can "pass".  So, I do not have the exact fears that Gayle King described when she talked about having "The Conversation" with her son.

My fears are much more like the scene in the movie Adam, when he is confronted by the police and has the meltdown that spectrum moms know so well.  (If you have not yet seen the movie, I highly recommend it.  Boo watched part of it with me, but Adam's meltdown in the lawyer's office upset him so he stopped.  I may try it again with him soon, though.  It depicts dating issues (gulp!) which is another conversation we need to have soon.)

I wasn't scared as much when Boo was younger, because he never ventured anywhere alone and unsupervised.  If I wasn't with him, he would have a teacher or other trusted adult with him to intervene.

But now he is 17.  He has a learner's permit.  He starts college in the fall.  He will move in to the dorms.

I will not be there to help him regulate his behavior.  I will not be there when (not if) someone thinks he is acting strangely.  I will not be there to help him interact with authority figures.

To say it scares the crap out of me is an understatement.

Yes, there are resources.  Yes, I am trying to teach him every single thing that I can.  Yes, he attends classes to learn independent living skills.

And yes, I am still a very scared mom.

The Great Taco Meat Fiasco

Yummy!

Boo loves nachos.  Then again, who doesn't?  Crunchy chips, savory meat, creamy sour cream, gobs of cheese...

Damn, I am getting hungry.  But I digress.

One of my favorite things about nachos is that I can cook a pound or two of taco meat, toss it in the fridge, make sure we have all the fixings on hand, and Boo has after-school snacks for a few days.

I like nachos, too, but just the first day.  After day one, the leftovers have always been Boo's.

Having always been an only child, and in a single-parent household for 15 years, he never really had to 'compete' with anyone for food.  And, then I got married.

Many, many things changed for Boo after I got married.  You can imagine how thrilled he was with that.  For months, he tried really hard to be patient and understanding of the changes his new step-father was trying to implement.

Things came to a head one day, though, when Boo went to the fridge to heat up some taco meat to make himself some nachos.  Turns out that Albert had beat him to it, and the treasured taco meat was gone.

I hear this blood-curdling "AHHHH!!!" coming from the kitchen, and take off running, expecting to find him with a severed artery.  Instead, Boo is standing in front of the fridge with the door open, looks at me with a face filled with raw fury, and screams:

"THAT FAT BASTARD ATE MY TACO MEAT!"

The next few minutes are kind of blurry.  I was holding my breath to try and keep from laughing, while simultaneously feeling like this type of inappropriate behavior should be nipped in the bud.

Still, it was funny as hell...

"Reporting for taco-meat-eating duty!"

Tornado Alert

Boo went to Catholic School for 3rd grade.  It was meant to be a 'transition' year between his time at a Montessori school and reentering the public school system.  The teacher already knew and adored him, so I knew he would get great support.

So, a couple of weeks after school started we were watching Die Hard 2 together.  There is that scene towards the end of the movie where everyone is running through the airport in a panic.

He asked why they were running and screaming and so I decided to use it as an opportunity to explain why we have emergency drills.

I asked him, "You know what to do if there is a tornado while you are in your classroom, right?"

"No."

I thought that was odd given that we lived in a very active tornado area.  I followed up with, "You have had a tornado drill, haven't you?"

"Yes."

OK.  "Do you know what to do in your classroom if there is a tornado?"

"No."

*sigh* The conversation continued like this for a few more rounds, when he finally looked at me like I was the stupidest thing on earth, and exclaimed:

"I know what to do if there is a tornado and I am in the Principal's office.  I just don't know what to do if I am in my classroom!"

*****
Epilogue: I asked the teacher about why he was being sent to the Principal's office and no one had told me.  It turned out that when he would start to get agitated with the noise in the classroom, they would let him go to the office where it was more quiet.  Over time, the Principal even set up a little work area for him (small desk, some supplies, etc.) so he could work more effectively when he was there.

It actually worked out pretty well for him.  He learned to recognize when he was getting overwhelmed and had the option to remove himself from the situation.  Over the course of the year, he retreated less often.  I think he felt comfort in having some control over things.

Adventures With the TSA

Who doesn't love a man in uniform?

Let's face it, TSA is always in the news, and the media rarely puts a positive spin on it. But 10 years later, the mention of TSA still cracks me up.

We used to travel quite a bit when Boo was little.  By the fall of 2001, at the ripe old age of 7, Boo could navigate the airport pretty well.

Then 9/11 happened.

Since I grew up on a military base in Germany, the sight of heavily-armed guards was not a big deal to me.  But, I realize they can be pretty intimidating to most.

The first time we flew post-9/11, I spent a great deal of time explaining to Boo that things would be different.  He had seen the news and was concerned about safety, so we talked quite a bit about the soldiers that would be at the airport to make sure we were safe.  I showed him pictures of soldiers and detailed the new security procedures.

We went through security at our regional airport with no problems, as it was exactly how Boo expected it to be.  He was nervous, but held it together great.

Then we got to Dallas. 

As we made our way to McDonald's, we were trudging along with the crowd of mostly business people, all quietly, quickly, getting to where we needed to go.  We passed one of the many security points that fed into the terminal, when I saw it: a male member of the National Guard, in complete combat gear including weapons, leaning against the X-ray machine flirting with a young, female TSA agent.  Seriously, it looked like a scene from "A Night at the Roxbury."

Unfortunately, Boo saw it, too.  He stopped cold, nearly tripping up the folks behind us, points at the pair, and shouts, "That man is NOT keeping us safe!"

Everyone around us cracked up, but sadly, the young couple in question did not even notice the pointing, the loud declaration, or the small crowd laughing.  So much for security.

The "F-Word"



Oh, fudge!

A friend recently commented on that parenting rite of passage: a child's first cuss word.

Personally, I don't really understand why some words are considered profanity and other words (that mean the exact same thing!) are considered appropriate.  And frankly, if I don't get it, I don't really expect an Aspie to get it.

When Boo was younger, I worked pretty hard to keep him from hearing these "special occasion words", since he had no sense of when to really not use them.  Still, he picked up on a few things.

When he was in 2nd or 3rd grade, he had figured out that there was an "F-word" that was not to be used.  Ever.  And kids who said it got into BIG trouble. One day he referred to someone as a 'fool' and I told him that wasn't a good thing to call someone.  He put these two facts together and deduced that the F-word was 'fool'.

So, what is a mom supposed to do?  Do I tell him, "Oh, no, Boo.  The F-word is actually f***, but promise you will never use it, ok?"

Yea, right.

After a few years of being sheltered in private schools, he rejoined the public school system in 4th grade.  Thankfully, his Principal (who we loved!) was very understanding when Boo was tricked into letting loose with a very loud string of profanity, including that actual F-word, in the school cafeteria.

Fast forward half a decade to when I marry a Yankee whose language is very colorful...

Because he hears these words at home, daily - insert sad face here - Boo's language has 'flowered' a bit.  My concern is not so much about the actual language but about the situation in which it is being used.  I have told him repeatedly that it would be a very bad habit for him to pick up since he often does not take context into consideration when making social decisions.

Case in point: Boo's last IEP meeting was a few weeks ago.  His teachers started teasing him a little about a girl who likes him.  He did a facepalm, and said "Oh, f***." 

Way to go, Boo.  Way to go.

The Thrill of Victory, and the Agony of Defeat

As I have mentioned before, Boo is a manager for his high school basketball team, and last night was the annual Basketball Banquet.  Since it is Boo's senior year, it was one of our last 'parent' events to attend.  As I was ironing his shirt, and he was pacing nervously, the phrase "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat" popped into my head.  It occurred to my that it is a great way to describe special needs parenting.

For most parents, banquets and other events are a time to enjoy a meal that they didn't have to cook, an opportunity to socialize with other parents, and (of course) watch the kids get honors and awards bestowed upon them.

And then there is the experience of a Spectrum Parent.

When they are young, preparation for an event like that includes a Xanax for mom, struggling to get clothes on said kid that will probably initiate a sensory meltdown, social stories, implementation of a reward system, another Xanax for mom, selecting a seat by the door in case of emergency, prayers that all of the preparation will pay off, apologies to other parents when it does not pay off, tissues to dry your kid's eyes when you leave in tears, and a Xanax for mom.

As Boo has gotten older, the prep routine has changed.  Sort of.

We still argue about clothes some, but we have reached a decent compromise.  There is no need for social stories since he has figured it out now.  He is too old for a reward system, and I no longer give a damn what other parents think.  Xanax still makes a cameo appearance, though.

The pre-event anxiety remains, in large part because I want him to enjoy himself, but the threat of a meltdown still looms in the background.  He will occasionally lash out beforehand, either at the house or in the car, because he has so much nervous energy but can't always figure out how to get it out appropriately.

Yesterday was no exception.  He came home from school and mentioned something about speaking at the banquet.  I tried to ask a few questions to figure out what he was talking about, but he got agitated so I dropped it.  He asked if I would iron a shirt for him, and I was thrilled that I didn't have to explain to him why his Green Lantern t-shirt and camouflage cargo shorts would not be a good idea.

We dropped him off early so he could gradually 'ramp up' to the crowd rather than get bombarded by walking into a crowded room, and my hubby and I hid out for a while.

Unlike last year, he decided to sit with the team.  He laughed, he ate, he joked around.  At one point, Albert went up to the 'team table' to take a few pictures and Boo was pretty cool about it.  That sort of opened the flood gates and half a dozen moms converged on the group like the paparazzi at a Red Carpet event.

As the coaches began honoring the players, I sat back and just watched Boo.  As the 7th grade team, the 8th grade team, and the Freshmen team were all brought up, he cheered them on.  When they go to the JV team (who he works with a lot) he was high-fiving the players as they walked past him.  It was pretty awesome to see a kid who used to hate being touched acting this way.

On the Program, between the JV team and the Varsity team, it simply said "Senior Remarks".  I assumed that the seniors would each speak for a minute about their post-high school plans.  I was nervous for Boo, but figured he would simply decline if he got too nervous.

The Head Coach returned to the stage, and said that Boo had asked to speak for a minute about how much the team has meant to him.  I nearly died of shock as Boo came up with a big smile on his face and took the mike from Coach.  I wish I remembered specifics about what he said, but I don't.  He joked about the team and everyone laughed.  He told the team he was proud of them.  He thanked Coach for asking him to be a manager.  And, I smiled so big I thought my face would crack.

When it came time for the Coach to honor the Varsity team, he started with the managers.  He brought Boo back up to the stage and talked about how far he had come.  He told the story about the start of last season when Boo would be close to a meltdown after a hard loss or a rude crowd.  He talked about how hard Boo had been working out lately and how he had lost 50 pounds.  Coach told him that he was proud of him and Boo was grinning from ear to ear.

When it was over, parents and kids milled about...the boys giving each other 'man hugs', and parents taking lots of pictures.  Other parents took a bunch of pictures of their kids with Boo, and I realized that he had truly become a part of the team.  He was 'one of them', and we have been so blessed to have these coaches and these fine, young men as part of our lives the past few years.

The thrill of victory...

Boo takes the stage.

Happy MeDay!

Hello, my dear friends!

Yes, it had been a month and a half since we last chatted.  For a while there, life got in the way of the blog.  I have missed you so!

After Boo's basketball season finished, we got all of the college admission/advising out of the way, and I wrapped up a major project at work, I had a self-declared MeDay.

That's right.  After weeks of being mom, wife, teacher, etc., I decided that for ONE DAY it would be all about ME.

For those of you unfamiliar with MeDay, here are the rules...(as I have declared.  They are not published formally, because I kind of made this whole thing up.)

1. Inform the family of the rules of MeDay.  (Then threaten bodily violence should they choose not to comply.)

2. There is no make-up on MeDay.  Unless you really want to, but seriously, it is MeDay.  Don't do it.

3. There is no errand-running on MeDay, except to buy things that you really want.  Not need, but want.  My hubby took me to the local used book store to treasure hunt, which is one of my favorite activities.  They must have know it was my MeDay because when I walked in a book I had been looking for was right there, front and center!  (Bitter is the New Black : Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass,Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office) 

4. Take a nap on MeDay.  

5. Rent a Chick-Flick on MeDay.  Or, in my case, finally catch up on "Up All Night" on the DVR box. 

6. Get a pedicure on MeDay.  (Mine had to be cancelled, because she had a sick child.  I substituted with a nap and more reading.  Still great!) 

7. Have your hubby take you out to lunch for MeDay.  Or a friend.  Or go by yourself and read a good book.  Whatever.  Just treat yourself.  Oh, and don't count calories.

8. Make sure you have your favorite beer/wine/moonshine on hand for MeDay.

9. Wear very comfy clothes on MeDay.  Those yoga pants worked beautifully while enjoying lunch, dinner, and beer.

10. The most important rule?  There is NO GUILT associated with MeDay.  

Moms (especially special-needs moms) tend to give, give, give, and give until we have nothing left to give.  Every now and then we desperately need to recharge our batteries.  And we need to send the message to our families that we are human.  We have needs.  We are not an unlimited service provider. 

My husband talked to Boo and explained to him how important this was to me.  In a rare, unprecedented move, they worked together to help make it happen. 

MeDay was great for all of us.  I got a much needed break, and the calming effects are still in place, even a week later.  Most importantly, I felt like I was truly appreciated.  I am in a better state of mind now.  MeDay put the whole family in a better state.

So, take a MeDay.  You won't regret it!