To all of Boo's "Mothers"

I have mentioned many times about all of the wonderful people we have had in our lives, but this Mother's Day, I really want to say "thank you" to all of Boo's other "mothers".  In roughly chronological order...

Miss W came into our lives when he was almost 2.  She was his preschool teacher, and so much more.  She helped potty-train him, diagnosed his chicken pox, and loved him unconditionally.  When he was in the ER from a nasty fall, she and her cousins (who also loved Boo like family) overran the place and refused to be told that there was a limit to the number of people who could come back to the exam area.  All they needed was to see that he was OK.

T's and J's mom, S, was always there for him.  For a few years, we were both single moms and regularly pooled resources.  We shared meals, laughs and tears.

Stacy, my best friend from HS, has always been  there for us, but became an even more awesome resource when Boo entered school.  She is a special education teacher, and fellow mother, so she was able to give me very practical advice on how to prepare for the dozens of IEP meetings we have had over the years.  On a more personal note, a very large portion of my AT&T minutes have been spent on the phone with her venting about the trials and tribulations of my life. 

I have mentioned Kellie before, as well as her complete lack of maternal desires.  (Frankly, I was shocked when she got a dog, and dogs are WAY less work than kids!)  She has known Boo since he was about 6, and has always been his buddy.  A few days before I got married, and Boo was freaking out about a variety of things, she was amazing.  We sat in her car outside a restaurant a few days before the ceremony and she was encouraging him to vent and get it all out before we went in to have dinner with some folks.  He would rant for a minute, then pause, and she would ask "Is that all?  Are you done, or is there anything else you are thinking?"  He would take a deep breath, and spew some more.  Finally, he had nothing else to say, we went in, and had a fabulous evening.

C and his mom L are still such a big part of our lives that their whole family adopted us.  C's grandparents have had us at their farm for Thanksgiving several times and there have been too many great memories to ever put in a single list.  L's sister-in-law (J) and I have decided that we are probably sisters separated at birth!

I have mentioned Boo's teachers, Mrs. V and Mrs. G before in True Thankfulness (sans the snark).  As his senior year comes to a close, I cannot help but really gush about them.  They love him so much that they put in hours of work to help him and his date (K) get ready for Prom.  They met with them to answer all of their questions and prepared a Social Story.  Since neither of these kids drive yet, they picked them up, took them to dinner, and then dropped them off at Prom.  Mrs. V sent me a couple of text messages and posted a few pictures during dinner to assure me that they were all having fun.  When I picked him up, he even said, "I had a great time!" and he meant it.

These are just a few of the amazing women that have become my sisters in this journey.  They are Boo's other mothers and are a big part of the reason that he is what he is today.  I love you, and more importantly, Boo loves you.

Childbirth and Basketball

I wasn't raised a fan of college basketball, but I eventually settled down in NW Arkansas in the early 90s, and the Razorbacks were VERY good at the time. 

The 1993-94 season was a fantastic time for Hog fans.  The new Bud Walton Arena opened that season, President Clinton was in office and would occasionally come to town for a game, and the Razorbacks were consistently very highly ranked.

I was pregnant with Boo during that time.  I started childbirth classes that spring, on Monday nights at the local hospital education annex.  I went with two of my girlfriends, Sherri and Ramona, who were also Hog fans.

The meeting after the Final Four had been determined, one of the dads in the class asked if the Razorbacks were to make it to the National Championship game (the following Monday night), would the class be rescheduled for another night?  The dozen or so dads were all very disappointed when they were told that the class would not be able to be rescheduled because there were no available rooms/times.  The class would go on, regardless.

The following weekend, Arkansas beat Arizona and went on to play Duke for the National Championship.  I don't think that Sherri, Ramona, and I even discussed what we would do.  We just skipped class and stayed home to watch the game.  (Side note: my brother, who had just moved to town and was living with me, watched the game with his pregnant sister and her two friends.  Probably his lamest sports spectator moment of all time!)

Arkansas won the game, celebrations erupted all over town, and we Hog fans had one of our best weeks ever!

The next Monday, the three of us girls went to childbirth classes, looked around at all of the married couples, and one of us said, "So, how many people were actually here last week?"

All of the wives glared at us, and all of the dads had this look like "Oh, boy.  They really stepped in it this time!"

One woman spoke up.  "Everyone was here except for you."

We probably should have felt bad.  About skipping class.  About giving the impression that a healthy birth took a back seat to basketball.  About causing marital discord between all of the couples there.  Should have, but didn't.

Skip ahead a few months to when I was in labor.  It was 3:00 in the morning and the doctor was on the phone with me trying to determine if I should go to the hospital.  He asked a few things, I was clearly clueless, and so he asked if I had gone to childbirth classes and did they discuss false labor.

"Well, I did take the childbirth classes, but I skipped the night they covered false labor.  It was the night we played Duke for the National Championship!"

The doctor perked up and said, "Oh!  Okay.  Let's just get you on in to the hospital to get you checked out!"

He totally got it.  Awesome.

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.