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Aaron has his very own unique way of describing things.  I’ve really never heard of anyone else who uses language the same way he does, although I’m sure that there are others.  It would be very amazing to get these persons together and just listen to them speak.  An aspect of Asperger’s autism is that these individuals often have an impressive vocabulary, although not always understanding what they are saying.  Aaron’s vocabulary isn’t so impressive, necessarily, but he puts words together in very interesting and amusing ways. 

For instance, one day he said, “Mom, I saw one of those cars that the top of the hood comes down.”  I knew right away that he was referring to a convertible.  He couldn’t remember that word so he described the car instead in his own way.  We’ve become master interpreters of Aaron’s language!

Yesterday he came home from his group carrying a slushie from Quik Trip.  As I mentioned in my blog awhile back, he told me that he got a “number 52” slushie at Quik Trip.  And guess what?  It really is a HUGE 52 ounce cup!  I’ve learned not to doubt him when he’s very sure of these details.  Anyway, later he barreled into the kitchen and said:

“Mom, I’m thinking I need a hard pan thing for my slushie.”  Even my refined interpreting skills were struggling with this one.  Then he walked over and grabbed this:

Of course!  A coaster!  I’m tucking that into my memory bank. 

As soon as I got out of the shower this morning, I heard that familiar thump, thump, thump coming down the hall.  Then the knock on the door.  And, “Mom!  Are you fixing pancakes?”  Aaron never says good morning, or any other greeting.  He just launches into whatever is on his mind. 

So it was a good morning.  For Aaron:

Because he got his pancakes – more than a few.

And for me:

Because Aaron said, “Mom, it was colder last night so now I’m wearing my long pajama pants.” 

Yes!  So thankful for the cold weather!

Aaron’s bedtime routine hasn’t varied much over the years, although on some nights he’ll drag the process out as he remembers something he hasn’t done or something he hasn’t told us.  One thing he’s always wanted to do before bed is to hug us, which really is sweet – especially coming from someone who has a hard time showing love and emotion.  When he was little he would back up to us for a hug.  It was so funny to hug him backwards, but that was how he was comfortable.  I remember Gary’s mom, especially, getting such a laugh out of that.  Now he actually gives us a real hug – progress!

He used to hug ONLY in his room.  Yes, no other place was hug-worthy to him.  I remember one night not too awfully long ago when I tried to hug him in the bathroom just before he brushed his teeth.  He knew I wasn’t going to wait for him to brush before hugging because I was tired and was going to bed, so he put his brush down and walked (or thumped!) back up the hall to his room.  He turned around and waited for me to come in his room to hug him.  That was all – just a hug and then he thumped back up the hall to finish brushing his teeth.  Amazing!

I walked in his room this past Monday night to find most of his covers on the floor.  “Mom, can you help me put my covers back on my bed.  They weren’t straight quite all the way.”  Well, certainly, Aaron can’t go to bed without his covers being just right (remember my Order of the Covers story?) so I don’t even argue that point anymore.  I just helped him put the covers back on and made sure EVERY wrinkle was out, just the way he wanted it, and he could then rest. 

Practically every night he must also ask if it’s going to rain.  Some nights he’ll forget to ask and soon we’ll hear him thump, thump, thump up the hall.  Often he’ll just barge right in to our bedroom, or sometimes remember to just stand at our door, and say, “Mom!  Do you think it’s going to rain tonight?”  I’ll answer the question and he happily thumps back up the hall to his room.  Some nights I just tell him about the rain chances before he asks, but he might still thump up the hall and ask, “So Mom, did you say you don’t think it’ll rain tonight?”  Sigh.  He does love rain.

Last night he came in our bedroom and said, “Mom, can you fix me pancakes tomorrow for breakfast?”  I replied, “Well, I’ll see if I have time.”  So he changed his tactic a little.  “Mom, can you fix me a FEW pancakes for breakfast?”   Maybe I could manage a few, right?  So I told him that maybe I could fix a FEW pancakes.  He rethought that real quick and said, “Mom, I mean can you fix me some pancakes tomorrow?”  HaHa!  Let’s leave out that “few” business and go for more!!

Some things about bedtime I just wish he wouldn’t bother to tell me.  The other night it was warm and so after telling him goodnight I heard that familiar thump, thump, thump up the hall.  He actually knocked on our bedroom door this time and then said, “Mom!  It’s hot so I’m not going to wear much clothes to bed.”   And why do you think I want to know this, Aaron? 

Good night, Aaron.  No, it’s not going to rain.  And I’m personally glad that we already hugged good night. 

Gary and I were doing lots of outdoor work this weekend, partly because it was our neighborhood clean-up time and partly because the coming winter is urging us to ready our gardens before the cold weather hits. On Saturday I had been clipping and yanking out the dead growth in the flower beds. There was plenty to do and the piles were filling up our big outdoor trash can quickly. I had decided that if I had time I should visit the vegetable garden to see what I could pull up there. It’s certainly time to be done with it, tidy it up for winter, and begin dreaming of a hopefully better vegetable season next year.

For several days I had been thinking about what I would try to clean up over the weekend and it hit me that I hadn’t even checked the status of our carrot patch. I had walked by our dying garden several times lately and had seen the sparse, stunted growth of the carrot plants. They were very unimpressive and hardly merited a second thought from me. The familiar lacy growth did remind me of the time several years ago that we first planted carrots. I was so excited about pulling up carrots that I became very impatient and was checking every few days to see if any had grown underground. One evening Gary, the kids, and I were outside when I stepped once again in the garden to bend over and do a little digging in the carrots. I gasped when I saw a large, orange protrusion in the dirt. A huge carrot!! I scooped back more dirt, reached down to pull it out, and discovered a very large and very fake plastic carrot. And out in the yard was some very loud laughing from my very amused family! They got me!

I grabbed my garden bucket from the garage, stepped over our little used-to-be electric wire fence into the garden, and walked over to the small carrot patch. We had planted quite a few carrots this year but many of them had died in the brutal heat and the awful drought of this past summer. I wasn’t at all hopeful that these measly few plants would produce anything of significance. They were hardly worth the effort, I assumed. Plus I remembered the beautiful, lush potato patch from earlier in the summer and how its yield was laughable and disappointing. Surely I could expect no more from this puny little row of struggling carrots. I bent over and gave a pull – and was surprised to see a pretty orange carrot slip out of the dirt. Well! After several more pulls and several more carrots, I was greatly encouraged. Certainly these were not state-fair-worthy carrots, but they were far better than what I had expected to find. Gary helped finish out the row with a pitchfork and we ended up with a healthy little pile of carrots. Despite their small size and their dirty exteriors, they were a delight to us – an unexpected gift at the end of our difficult growing season. And guess what I had just bought the day before when I shopped for groceries? Yes – a bag of carrots! O ye of little faith, I thought.

I must admit that I am so often attracted to what is outwardly appealing, like the lush growth of our potatoes that fooled us into believing we had a bumper crop of delicious spuds. In reality they were only showy to the eye but had no substance and no real growth. It can be so tempting to participate in the ministries that are evident to all but to neglect the ones that are considered menial or boring. Or to not give much time or attention to people who are marginal to us – who maybe even annoy us. Can we lend a helping hand; make a phone call; fix a meal; send a card; clean a toilet? Sometimes God takes away the up-front, public ministries to put us in a place where we struggle; where our efforts seem puny and small, unnoticed and unimportant. Everyone gathers around the public persona but the unimpressive one is rarely given a second thought. Who wants to be a little dirty carrot when we could be a big, beautiful tomato that everyone looks at with pleasure? But God knows the work that is being done away from the public eye, the glory that is being given to Him through the efforts of those that He is using to quietly further His kingdom work. Paul talked to the Corinthians about this in I Corinthians 1:26-29: “For consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble; but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong, and the base things of the world and the despised God has chosen, the things that are not so that He may nullify the things that are, so that no man may boast before God.” All ministry with pure motives is valuable to God, but if our lives are changed for whatever reason and we find ourselves feeling like our work is sparse and we struggle with insignificance, may we be faithful to grow and serve where God has placed us. Remember that the work God is doing underground will one day shine for His glory and praise.

Persons with autism are easily overwhelmed by change.  Routine and sameness are very important to them.  Growing up in a military family brought many changes to Aaron’s life and he’s learned to adapt very well.  But sometimes it’s the little things that get him flustered.  For instance, one day I noticed that the water in our guest bathroom faucet was coming out at an angle instead of straight down.  When Aaron got home that afternoon, he ran in there to use the bathroom and when he turned the water on to wash his hands, he came running out saying, “Mom!!  The water in the bathroom is bent!!”  The bent water coming from the faucet was a topic of conversation for some time after that. 

Therefore, when I bought a different brand of toilet paper a couple weeks ago the first thing I thought of was the fact that Aaron would not only notice the change but he would certainly comment.  I put the first of the new rolls out and when he used it yesterday it did – uh – leave an impression, so to speak.  Here’s the old toilet paper:

And here’s the new toilet paper:

And Aaron’s comment:  “Mom!  That new toilet paper is weird!”   
Me:  “So what’s weird about it, Aaron?”
Aaron:  “Well, it’s got lines on it.  I’ve never seen toilet paper with lines on it.  That’s weird!”

I assured him that the new toilet paper was just fine and he assured me that he would use it.  He better!  I’m hoping that this uncertainty about the lined toilet paper will soon pass and will come out just fine in the end.  Puns intended.  Sorry.

This is the first year that Gary and I have planted potatoes. Gary was around home grown potatoes when he was a boy and so he knew how to plant our spuds. I also set out to research and find out as much as I could about planting potatoes. I bought the seed potatoes at a local mercantile and asked questions there; I googled and read some items on-line; and most importantly, I asked other experienced potato growers for advice. And so in the spring Gary and I planted a long row and a half row of tender red potatoes. We were very excited to see the first green shoots break through the soil, and our excitement continued as the small growths became large and lush. I could imagine all the delicious potatoes growing just under the mounded soil and couldn’t wait to dig them up and cook them in various ways. I wondered where I would store the heavy yield that I fully expected to find.

I asked questions as I thought that our harvest was near and had other gardeners confirm that it was definitely time for Gary and I to dig up our crop. One friend said that potatoes are her favorite crop to harvest as she pulls up the plants and has potatoes spill out of the mounds, and then finds even more as she digs in the soft dirt. And so one morning before the heat was overbearing I anxiously went to the garden with my tools and my big bucket. I thought I might need two buckets, or even more, but thought I’d only have time to fill one on this morning. I carefully dug and found nothing. A little more digging and I found one little potato, then later another little one, but no more. I continued to dig until I reached the next plant, then gently pulled it up as I expected the potatoes to roll out all around my feet. Nothing. Hmmmm. This process continued for as long as I was able to dig that morning. I walked into the house and looked down at those pathetic few potatoes in the big bucket. Surely the rest of the mounds would yield more that that! But sadly, Gary finished the digging on Saturday and had the same results. I stood and watched him dig, again holding the bucket that I hoped to fill, but we were disappointed once again. What had happened to our potatoes? We had planted carefully, had watered, had fertilized. We had beautiful green, bushy growth that led us to believe that underneath the ground were dozens of delicious potatoes waiting to be unearthed. However, underneath the deceptive and beautiful greenery was almost nothing of substance.

I’ve thought about this experience for several days. My mind first went to the lives of some along the way that have touched our lives. And in this case, not necessarily in a positive way. We have known and ministered with people who have every outward evidence of being mature believers in Christ. They say the right words, participate in many right activities, help others, etc., etc. But somewhere along the way their true colors show. When you dig deeply into their lives you find hypocrisy with no real fruit. At times certain ones have brought hurt and disappointment into our lives. But I also, and more importantly, remembered the advice Gary has given me and our children many times. He has wisely said, “Patty, look at your own heart and let God deal with others.” How many times have I exhibited lush, beautiful outward growth but inwardly I am struggling to produce fruit? Am I allowing the Spirit to produce His fruit in my life or am I trying to manufacture it myself? If you dig deep enough into my life, will you find fruit or will you find the dirt of unforgiveness, bitterness, or other sinful issues? It’s easy to be like the Pharisees and show outward growth but have inward barrenness. God spoke to His people through Isaiah and said, “Because this people draw near with their words, and honor Me with their lip service, but they remove their hearts from Me……the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the discernment of their discerning men shall be concealed.” May I have a true and faithful heart so that I will consist of more than just the outward greenery of words, actions, and lip service! I pray that I will have deep inner fruit that will manifest itself outwardly for the glory of God!

I never know what Aaron will bombard me with the second he barges in the door when he gets home from his group.  He never says “Hi Mom!”  Instead he immediately starts telling me something about his day.  Like one day last week, as soon as the door burst open, it was:

“Mom!  Today we went to the east mall and I got a 12 foot sub!!”    [Wow!  Do they make them that big?]

“I got all the meat on it like I always do.”    [A club.]    “Yeah, a club!”

“And I got that white stuff on it……………you know……….”     [Mayonnaise]

“Yeah, mayonnaise!”     “And then when I was eating it some of the meat went down a wrong pipe on my throat, and it made me cough!”     [Did someone call a plumber, I’m wondering?]

But I decided not to ask him that.  Some questions just spoil the moment.  Wonder what I’ll hear today?

My dad was color blind, and that gene passed to his daughters to be possibly passed on to our sons.  Only two of us daughters have sons – Kathryn and I.  Kathryn’s son, Matt, is color blind.  And of my two sons, only Aaron is color blind.  I remember how as children we loved to ask my dad what color this item or that item was.  We were amazed at dinner, for instance, when he couldn’t tell the difference between the colors of the peas and the carrots.  Or we’d tease him in some way about colors.  He was the most patient dad on the planet!  Mom would hang his pants and shirts together, matching sets, so he could just grab a set and go.  He knew that they always matched and that he would look coordinated, not disastrous like it would have been if he was left to put them together.  When we were older and Mom would travel with her job, we’d threaten to mix Dad’s clothes up if he wasn’t nice to us.  Those were empty threats but we sure had fun giving him a hard time and having him play along with us. 

I also remember how my Mom wore this Avon pink lipstick with matching nail polish.  Dad finally asked her to stop wearing it because pink looked blue to him, which meant that her blue lips and nails were a little eerie looking!  One day, when we lived in Germany, we were driving down the autobahn and we passed a bright pink truck.  Little Aaron yelled out, “Look at the BLUE truck.”  I knew then that he was color blind. 

The other day Aaron bought a huge bag of Skittles and brought it home.  Often he likes to take a handful of Skittles and organize them by color.  He leans way down to examine them in an effort to match them correctly.  This morning he said, “Mom, I have a hard time with some of the colors in the Skittles.”  So I asked him which colors are hard (though I knew) and he said, “Just the green, orange, red, and purple.”  Well, that just about covers it – only yellow is left!  I asked him to sort some for me while I fixed him some breakfast, and he proceeded to lean over his little pile and begin separating them.  And sure enough, there in his pile of purple Skittles were two stray red ones that seemed just the same color to Aaron as the purple.  He does a good job, though, and can compensate just like my dad did.

Dad could see yellow, too, and blue.  So Mom would major on blue decorations at Christmas – a show of her love for Dad.  And yellow roses or other yellow flowers were a favorite. Mom always planted plenty of yellow miniature roses or other yellow flowers for him to enjoy.  When Dad died, though, Mom made sure there was a beautiful arrangement of multi-colored flowers adorning his coffin because now he could see and enjoy all the colors, not just the blue and yellow.  Another example of her love shown for him.

Funny how something like Skittles can lead to such sweet, unexpected memories. 

Aaron was in the kitchen chattering with me as I fixed supper awhile ago.  He saw me put corn on the cob on the counter, walked over and looked at it and said, “Mom, why does that corn have hair on it?”  HaHa!  The world through Aaron’s eyes!

Funny, though………last week he was talking about his legs having fur.  Now he says that corn on the cob has hair.  Is he confused or what?!

Oral hygiene can be an issue with Aaron.  Not can be – it IS an issue with Aaron.  Some of his meds over the years have made his gums swell at times, for instance.  His lack of fine motor skills and manual dexterity make even brushing his teeth difficult for him.  Also, he thinks that the harder he brushes then the cleaner his teeth will be, so his gums suffer from being brushed too hard.  Don’t even get me started on the difficulty with flossing!  Even the taste of toothpaste, too, has been an issue with him over the years.

So when his hygienist told us a few months ago that Aaron should start using mouth wash to assist in his oral health, I was very skeptical that he would agree to it once he tasted it.  Even opening the bottle on the Scope I bought has been a nightmare.  The lid has to be squeezed and then turned. This was amazingly difficult for Aaron to accomplish because of his motor skills issues.  You just had to have been there to see me trying to show him how to do it.  Now he just grabs the bottle and uses brute force to open it, then laughs like he’s just killed a  mammoth for dinner! 

But he IS using the mouthwash every night, for which I’m very grateful and surprised.  He came downstairs some time back, though, and said, “Mom, that stuff I have to use in my mouth at night is very SPICY!!”   You know, I guess spicy describes it very well. 

But I thought for sure I bought the mint flavored, not the chipotle.