Mom, Don’t Be Sad

Blah!  Bleh!  However you want to spell it, it’s how I feel right now.

If we’ve learned one thing about Aaron, it’s that we’re always learning about Aaron.  The autistic brain, as well as the brain changed by seizures…and let’s not forget the brain impacted by so many meds…is indeed a complex mess at times.

Aaron’s mess often makes me a mess.

I also feel like a Yo-Yo.  Up and down…up and down…up and down.

Aaron had a cold last week and was home for a couple days from his day group because of it.  On Friday he was out of bed and reluctantly ready for Paradigm when I looked down the hall and realized that he had gone back to bed.

Oh well, I thought.  I guess it’s another home day for Aaron.  I had a must-do trip down to the air base scheduled, so off I went, minus Aaron.  But I was barely down the road when my phone rang, and there was Aaron, out of bed and ready to go to Paradigm.  I turned around, picked him up, and off we went – his current CD of choice playing and a smile on his face.

What a relief to me to see him happy!

I told him about the pizza lunch that was scheduled, being careful not to use the word “party,” because Aaron doesn’t care for parties.  I definitely didn’t tell him about the planned dance, either, because Aaron not only doesn’t like parties, he REALLY dislikes parties with dancing.  It’s all just too much sensory overload for Aaron, despite the fact that Aaron himself causes plenty of sensory overload for those of us who are routinely living in his world.  Go figure.

Aaron was still pleasantly happy when we pulled up to Paradigm.  He was still happy when he called me later to give me a report on his day.  And happy still when I picked him up later…an early pick-up just for fun and so we could make our Friday Wal-Mart shopping trip for weekend treats.

Aaron came to the van looking like this:

 

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Chris, one of the staff, jokingly put some tape on Aaron’s mouth…and I can surely guess why…and Aaron loved it.  He wanted to go into Wal-Mart that way, but stuffy mom said no!

Aaron immediately asked me in Wal-Mart if we could buy him an Xbox and I immediately told him no…as always.  I reminded him that an Xbox is too expensive to buy for a weekend treat.  Aaron asked if he could go to the electronic section to look around since he had no interest in looking at hair spray and make-up, so off he went with a reminder from me to NOT run!

I should have also reminded him to not bother any of the associates since I know that Aaron invariably finds an unsuspecting associate in their blue vest, and invariably asks them questions.  Friday was no exception, as Aaron told me later what happened.

“Hey!” Aaron said as he pounced upon said associate.  “Do you sell any CHEAP Xboxes?!”  😊  😊

Once home, Aaron helped me carry bags in the house.  He helped me make spaghetti for supper.  Never mind the broken noodles all over the stove-top.  He was trying his best.  He helped me make brownies, looking down at the bowl of batter and asking, “Is that the WHOLE brownie?!”

 

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He set the table, took the recycling items to the garage bin, and learned a funny song to sing to Kyle the next day for his birthday.  And after supper, he crammed spaghetti in his mouth and mumbled, “Send a picture to Andrea!!”

 

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On Saturday morning, we called Kyle for his birthday and Aaron happily sang his funny song that he had practiced over and over in his monotone voice while on his computer:  “Happy Birthday to you!  Happy Birthday to you!  You look like a monkey.  You smell like one, too!”

And Aaron, who is often jealous of his new brother-in-law, rubbed his hands together in delight after he sang his song, and ran upstairs after laughing loudly.

That afternoon, while Gary worked on our extremely frustrating messed-up internet, Aaron and I went for a walk in Swanson Park.  We saw beautiful Kansas prairie grasses.

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We saw lots of very old, dramatic trees.

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Aaron even happily posed for a picture.

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But best of all, we got up close and personal with this gorgeous deer.

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What a very fun, relaxing afternoon!

We finished the day watching a movie while eating supper, with Aaron totally delighted to eat his egg rolls as he watched a huge volcano erupt.

After church on Sunday, Gary had to get busy on our internet repair again, so Aaron and I scooted down to the grocery store for his favorite Cheddar Pasta Salad…and chicken…and drinks…and then doughnuts at Paradise Donuts down the road.  But as the day went on, and especially while I was on the phone with Andrea, I noticed that Aaron’s happy brightness was fading.  And after another movie that night, and one of his favorite television DVD shows, I knew that our happy time was over.

I just wish I knew why.

I really wish that Aaron knew why and could talk about it.

Asking Aaron to talk about his feelings or to verbalize his thoughts about these things would be like me asking him to walk up the stairs if he had Cerebral Palsy and was in a wheelchair.  That’s how impossible it is.

And even though I kept telling myself that this very happy time would no doubt end, I still realized that deep down I dreamed that maybe it wouldn’t end…that maybe Aaron would see how much fun it is to be happy and compliant, and would want to stay that way.

It was like Aaron crashed.  Like he went from being manic to being angry again, for whatever reason.  He was just upset for no reason that I could see.

He said he was not taking his pills, but he did.  He said he was not taking his CBD oil, but he did.  He said he wasn’t going to bed, but he did.  He said he wasn’t going to brush his teeth, and he didn’t do that.  Of course.  😊

I just shut down, trying to stay flat and unaffected in order to not escalate Aaron’s unhappiness.  He noticed my change every bit as much as I noticed his.  He didn’t like it and wanted me to be happy even as he was anything but.

“Mom!” he said.  “Don’t be sad!”

But if I tried to explain why I was sad he did not want to talk about it or to hear me talking about it…talking about how he had dramatically changed so quickly.  No talking allowed.  But no sadness, either.

Aaron was worried that I wouldn’t participate in our nightly routine, especially talking to him over the monitor from our bedroom after he was all tucked in his bed.

“Mom?” he asked over the monitor.  “Are you going to say goodnight?”

So I did, half- heartedly, and he knew…but he thought that he should just be happy with what we had at that moment.  And so did I.  But once more before we were done, he said it again.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

My tears came then when Aaron couldn’t see them.  Tears of frustration and sadness.  Tears due to the realization of how very much I loved our fun days, without any stress, and how much I wished they could last forever.

And having those happy days, only to have the anger re-emerge, showed me just how stressed I often am.  I was so relaxed and content when Aaron was happy, but the instant stress again was a real blow.

Many of you reading this, in your own particular context, know exactly what I mean.  The ups and downs of life take a toll.  The good news and the bad news.  The hope and then the dashing of hope.

Long term care-giving mamas, though, know it all too well.  Balancing the moods, the environment, the activities, the meds, the decisions…and most definitely, the guilt for not thinking we’re doing it well enough.

Gary was right beside me last night, as always.

And so was God.  He reminded me as I laid awake for a long time of His love for me and of His unending grace.  Grace upon grace.  Grace for me and for Aaron…and grace to give to me so I can give it to Aaron.

God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness.  He never lets me down or leaves me to my own resources.  He is forever there for me with that tangible comfort that only those who really walk with Him will know and understand.

In a real sense, these hard times…this Yo-Yo life with Aaron…keep me experiencing God in a way that I might not otherwise.  For that I am thankful.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

Aaron has no idea of how God uses him to teach me so much.

 

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Author: hesaidwhatks

I write about our adult son who has Epilepsy and Autism, who still lives with my husband and me, and who is a package full of many surprises and joys and challenges and TALK! Lots of talking, which creates laughter and some other reactions as well. I also write about how God shows Himself to me in everyday life.

13 thoughts on “Mom, Don’t Be Sad”

  1. Thank you for sharing this with your readers. I am new to your blog. My husband and I share a home with our adult daughter. (age 26) who has physical limitations. While our stories are not exactly alike I identify with the thoughts and feelings you shared. We want our children to be happy and have a purpose. Thank you for the reminder to depend on God. Also- thank you for your candid and real thoughts that help me realize I am not alone. Hugs and prayers!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so happy to meet you, Sindy! Thank you for reading and for commenting. You know, I think there are many more of us parents with adult special needs “children” still living with us than we realize. I hear of more and more, both in our town and through social media. God bless you and your husband as you care for your daughter. I hope you and I get to know each other better. There is strength and encouragement as we support one another. Blessings to you!

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  2. Reading your story is like talking to my autistic clients mom. She too turns to God for strength. The one thing she always comments on is how she wishes her adult child could communicate emotions too. My clients father passed away 2 years ago and my client, not being able to show emotion, has never cried. I made her a photo book on the computer with pictures of their family off of her dads Facebook page and she just stares at the pictures, but still no emotion. It’s so sad. Aaron is so lucky to have you both! You are such wonderful parents.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Diane! And yes, emotions are very difficult for those with autism. Aaron gets very upset if we cry, and he calls us “cry babies.” We’ve never taken him to a funeral, including family members, because he would not be able to handle it. You sure have been a blessing to your client! Blessings to you!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Beautiful words! I’m new to following your blog but your posts caught my attention..my brother who has epilepsy and special needs still lives at home with our mom, he’s 29….our dad passed away from a car accident nearly 20 years ago and my brother suffered a severe brain injury as a result of the same car accident.
    I’ll have to share your blog with my mama, she desperately needs encouragement from other believers despite her strong Christian faith!

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    1. And I just read your Burnt Popcorn Lessons, and loved it! I didn’t get to leave a comment but I thought it was so good. Your dear mama and your brother…oh my, what a life they’re living! I would love to give her a hug. I’m so glad you and I “met!”

      Like

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