Where There’s A Will…

Autism 101:  Individuals with autism tend to “…have eccentric preoccupations or odd, intense fixations…  They tend to follow their own inclinations regardless of external demands…” (Karen Williams)

You got that one right, Karen!

In our home, living with Aaron means that Gary and I also live with his fixations.  Sometimes his obsessions are funny.  Sometimes they are maddening.  Sometimes they are exhausting.

But always, Aaron will…to finish the above title…find a way to fulfill his inner demands of how his life is to be lived.

Like his mealtime routine.  Aaron will always, always, always, have multiple utensils or plates or bowls of whatever kind he desires for each meal.  Here was his place setting recently as he ate lunch in the family room.

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We have come to expect this, and we don’t even try to correct him. He will make sure to have the proper number of knives, forks, or spoons for every meal.  I am just very thankful that I have a dishwasher!

How about movie credits?  Gary and I watched a movie yesterday.  Afterwards, we wondered where the movie was filmed.  We watched the credits to find our answer, which happened to be at the very bottom of the huge stream of names and job titles.  And we laughed at ourselves, realizing we had become…for that moment…just like Aaron.

Aaron…who watches movie credits with as much focus as he watches the movie.

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Aaron loves his Star Light that he turns on every night.  It was a Christmas gift from Kyle and Andrea, and he has turned it on every night since then.   Aaron very quickly developed his own rules for his Star Light.  He wants it turned on just as he is getting into bed.

One night, Gary came upstairs shortly before Aaron was actually getting INTO his bed.  Aaron wanted Gary to see his Star Light, so while Gary stood in the doorway, Aaron turned the light on.  Gary oohed and aahed, Aaron was very happy, and then off went the light.  Maybe two minutes later…tops…Aaron turned the light back on because he was now getting INTO bed and it was the REAL time to turn on his Star Light.

Back to Karen Williams’ quote:  Aaron will follow his own inclinations regardless of external demands.

Gary and I are usually the ones making those external demands in many cases.

Let’s talk sweaters…Aaron’s sweaters, to be precise.  Of course.

Aaron LOVES his sweaters.  Certain sweaters are better than others, and he will wear them until they are worn to bits.  He had this old sweater for several years, but it was his very favorite.  He wore it or carried it or had it nearby, inside and outside…always.

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This year, for Christmas, I ordered him two new sweaters.  They are long and flowing, the kind he loves.  And love them he does!

He wears one pretty constantly.  Inside and outside, his sweater is being worn.

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He also wants to wear it to bed, under all his necessary covers…including his new weighted blanket that he loves.  This means that sometimes he gets too hot, but he will rarely agree to sleep without his sweater.  This happened on Saturday night when he talked about being too hot the night before.

Enter the external demands, made by me.  I reminded him that he should remove his sweater before climbing into bed.  He was reluctant, but finally agreed to those external forces trying to rearrange his internal inclinations.

We discussed it on his monitor when I went into my bedroom.  We discussed it as he stood at my closed bathroom door while I tried to brush my teeth.  And he continued to discuss it with Gary after he clomped down two sets of stairs to Gary’s study.

We thought we had won.  We were the new KING AND QUEEN OF EXTERNAL DEMANDS!!!!

Silly us.

Soon Gary came upstairs.  Aaron called out to him from behind his closed bedroom door, wanting one last word with Dad.

And last word it was…for there lay Aaron.

Wearing his sweater.

On TOP of the covers.

We removed our King and Queen crowns as we climbed into our own bed.

Instead, we wore smiles.

Why fight the inevitable, right?

Aaron will always find a way.

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Caught Up In Crazy

I very innocently planned a grocery trip today to Aldi.  I often go to Aldi on Friday mornings.  Not a big deal…so I thought.

Also, not a big deal to take Aaron with me…so I thought.

I wasn’t surprised that the parking lot was rather full.  I WAS surprised when Aaron and I headed for the carts to hear a woman call out to me, telling me that Aldi wasn’t opening until 12:00.  Somehow, I missed that memo.

Thankfully, Aaron and I only had to sit in the van for less than 10 minutes.  Out we hopped, again, grabbed our cart and had to walk to the back of a long line.  Never…not Thanksgiving…not Christmas…not pre-blizzard…have I seen a line waiting to get into Aldi.

The lady behind me mentioned that this was crazy.  Yes, it was crazy.  So was the line all the way up the first aisle headed for the produce, and the line waiting for eggs, and another for dairy products.  All through the store, in nearly every aisle, we were bumper to bumper carts and shoppers.

So much for social distancing.

I saw some things.

I saw concerned faces.

I saw tired children.

I saw long lists in shopper’s hands.

I saw smiles, too.

I saw kindness from many of the harried people there.

I saw a very elderly and frail woman with beautiful white hair sitting on the counter where her caregiver packed their groceries…and she was sound asleep, her head bowed, seemingly oblivious to the noise around her.

And I saw Aaron as we stood in the check-out line, his arms hanging down and his hands folded together while he stared down at the end cap display beside us.

He was somber and quiet, very uncharacteristic of him when shopping.  Usually he rubs his hands together happily as he stands in line talking about a game or a movie or what he wants to eat for supper or any number of other things.  Usually I must remind him to talk softly.

But not today.

Today, Aaron saw and felt the crazy all around him.  I was calm all through the store, talking to him and to others, trying to maintain a sense of normal.

That’s because I know how necessary normal is to Aaron.

But today was anything BUT normal, and Aaron was not to be fooled.

I’ve written about how Aaron is very tired of this Coronavirus…how done he is with store closings and restaurant closings and crowds and shortages.

I really didn’t expect Aldi to be part of the crazy today.  I didn’t expect our trip there to add to Aaron’s angst.

Yet there we were, sucked into the crazy while not wanting to contribute to it.  I was just there to get normal groceries.  But the crowds…the lines…the empty shelves…the waiting…the jostling – all made Aaron most unsettled.

“Mom,” he said.  “You’re just here because of the crazy Coronavirus!”

I tried to assure him that I was there because of needing normal groceries.  But Aaron wasn’t buying it.

All through the store…thankfully in a quiet voice…Aaron told me over and over that I was a part of this crazy because of the Coronavirus.

“You’re just buying that because of Coronavirus,” he muttered as I bent over the sandwich meat.

“You just want that because of the Coronavirus,” he said again as I added coffee to the cart.

Seeing him in the check-out line, so still and serious, made me very sad.  All the times I’ve wanted him to be quiet and now he was…but for a reason that yanked at my heart.  He was most uncomfortable…most uneasy…most worried.

This whole scenario of our current lives is new to me…new to all of us.  Watching Aaron’s manner and seeing his worried face was a real insight into how this strange time is new to him as well and is affecting him.

Normal is gone for now, and for who knows how long.  So, for many of us with special children…children who respond strongly to their environments…this may be an extra stressful time.

Let’s encourage each other and pray for one another.

And if you’re out and about in the crazy, and you see a mom with a special-needs child, give her an extra big smile, would you?

 

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Number 10 Song

I was already fairly saturated with Aaron issues when he and I walked out to the van this morning.

Him standing outside my bedroom door earlier, wanting me to come look at his bed – and me knowing what I would find.

“Aaron, is your bed wet?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.  “And my pajamas.  Come look!”

My day was already taking a track I did not plan.

Him saying he didn’t want to go to his day group today because of the Valentine party.  No surprise there since he doesn’t like parties, of all things.  Too noisy, says the loudest person I know.

Him wanting to take his wallet if he did go to Paradigm, even though he didn’t need money on a pizza day.  I know his plan.  Give money away if he can get by with it.

Him wanting to take snacks even though food was to be provided today.  Again, his plan is to give food away even when he’s not supposed to do that.

There I was, redirecting and being level and not reacting and listening to him tell me that everything was my fault – including any possible seizures he said might happen today.  I didn’t hear a seizure last night and he doesn’t act like he had a seizure, but he was laying claim to that possibility in an effort to stay home.

He finally came around and compliantly went to the van with me, where he immediately wondered where his CD of choice was.  I had removed it earlier this morning along with a stack of others.  Varying choices I offered were not acceptable as we sat there in the driveway.

Finally, I saw one!  The Oak Ridge Boys Ultimate Collection!  He had wondered only yesterday if we had any other Oak Ridge Boys CDs.  We had just finished listening to the two that I remembered having, so this other one I saw laying there was a real find!

Or so I thought.  Aaron was not impressed.

He mumbled something about the other Oak Ridge Boys CDs…and I knew what was going on here.  He really wanted to listen to this third CD but not without completing his order of listening.  I knew that there was no other choice but to go back in the house to get the two CDs that were in that stack I had earlier removed.

“Seriously?!” I thought as I headed in the house.  “Why are you so…so…RIGID??!!”

I climbed back in the van, carrying the hopeful source of Aaron’s contentment.  Then I learned that Aaron didn’t want to listen to both of the CDs again.  He wanted…NEEDED…to complete the one that we had not finished yesterday.  This must be done before he could begin the new CD.

“We were on number 10,” he flatly said as he pushed the CD in the slot and pressed the button until number 10 was on the screen.

Aaron visibly relaxed as number 10 song began to play.  He was still and quiet, his hood pulled over his head and his gloved fingers entwined together.

 

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I say this often, but Aaron’s world was made right in that moment.  He seriously must finish the prior CD by the same artist before he can begin the new CD.  I do not feel that angst that Aaron feels, but I will certainly feel his angst if I do not cooperate with his very ordered view of his world.

I can’t be selfish, tired and frustrated as I may be at that moment.  Selfishness will only increase Aaron’s frustration and will lead to more conflict which will not in any way help our situation.

Aaron needs understanding.  That’s all.

Oh, and a dose of love.

He doesn’t want hugs and kisses, gooey words and all that sort of stuff.

He wanted me to get the CD, and to not make him feel dumb for needing it.  This is Aaron’s love language.

As we drove away, finally, the number 10 song was playing.  It’s a pretty song, and suddenly my heart was very touched as I listened to these words:

“You’re always in my heart, and you’re often on my mind.”

My love for Aaron was being sung in that number 10 song.  The tears trickled from my eyes, but I couldn’t let Aaron see me cry.  My tears make Aaron very uncomfortable.

“I like that song,” I said as it ended.

“Do you want to play it again?!” he asked with excitement.

“Sure!” I happily answered.

My affirmation, on every level, was just what Aaron needed.  But so did I.

Aaron is often on my mind for less than pleasant reasons.  Worries.  Frustrations.  Anger.  Dilemmas.  Prayers.

But Aaron is often on my mind for happy reasons as well.  Joy.  Humor.  Uniqueness.  Thankfulness.

He is always in my heart, for all the above reasons.

He needed more than Skittles and a goofy love card this morning.

 

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He mostly needed…and needs EVERY day…to know that despite my weariness and my worries, I get him.

Because I get him, I got his CD.

I liked the number 10 song.

That’s the BEST heart gift for Aaron…and for ME!!

 

 

 

 

The Good-Smelling Difference

Aaron was awake and out of bed very early Monday morning, especially considering the fact that he took a long time getting to sleep the night before.  We were late to bed on Super Bowl Sunday, and not just because of the game.  He and I watched a Dr. Quinn after the Super Bowl…a SUPER Super Bowl for us, by the way.  Aaron would tell you that the team we voted for WON!!  YAY!!

Aaron enjoyed watching the game with us.  He didn’t have many new insights, except for thinking that he heard something upstairs on fire.  What??  He was sure of it.

“I hear a snappeling sound!” he insisted.

Gary and I assured him that there was no fire upstairs, but finally he had to prove it to himself, so up the stairs he stomped – he does sound like a bull elephant! – and came back with the report that there was no fire upstairs.

“There’s the snappeling sound again!” he soon insisted once more.

Still no fire.

We eventually realized that the “snappeling” sound he heard was the sound of the player’s shoulder pads hitting together.  Who notices that sound?

Aaron does.  And isn’t that word just the perfect word for a crackling fire?

He didn’t eat much of the food I fixed.  He did try to convince me when I told him that he could have two Rice Krispie Treats that this was, indeed, only TWO!  😊

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On this Monday after Super Bowl, Aaron had an autism doctor appointment.  Aaron would tell you that we were eating lunch at Old Chicago as the main event, with the doctor visit as an annoying side trip.

He was chipper and happy, eating some breakfast I fixed him, but by the time we left the house later he had greatly changed.  I think he had a small seizure that I didn’t totally catch, only seeing the end of it.  Therefore, on the way to the doctor he was very tired, keeping his eyes closed most of the way.

The doctor does a good job with Aaron, trying to get him to communicate with her, but he was still draggy and tired…and his answers often very inaccurate.  She and I end up, as we did yesterday, talking about my Aaron concerns.

And my concerns seem to grow.  Weight loss…behaviors…seizures…a hard time on many nights going to sleep.

Adding a medicine…the concerns with that…

Just on and on.  And so many issues are unknown, even to doctors, when it comes to the brain and to the impact of long-term seizures and meds.

Now I was feeling dreary and burdened as we drove away, Aaron’s eyes closed again.  Even inside Old Chicago, as Aaron managed to eat two pieces of pizza, his mood wasn’t his usual over-excited self.

But on the drive home, Aaron and I had fun watching the temperature drop number by number as a cold front blew through.  He thought it was great fun!  It was also great fun to anticipate getting a haircut, which he loves.  I had signed in on-line and he was happy – but still very tired.

We ran home for a quick stop and to grab our jackets.  Then I told Aaron that I was sure a few Reese’s Cups would perk him up.

“Yeah!!” he agreed.

He carefully took three small ones, put them in his coat pocket, and off we went.

I never know when we go to Great Clips just how the visit will be.  As we walked in the door, I was just happy that Aaron didn’t barge in and loudly say,
“I’M HERE FOR A HAIR-CUT!!!” – as he so often has in the past.

However, yesterday I realized that we didn’t know any of the stylists.  I could feel discomfort invading my happiness.  I just never know if someone will understand Aaron or stare at him in that all-too-familiar way that makes me half angry and half sad.  I was hoping for someone who knew Aaron and was good with him.  Instead, we were given the perfunctory greeting as we entered, mixed with inquisitive stares.

UGH!!!

Aaron and I sat in our chairs, him totally unaware of my concern.  He wanted to know what Bed Head meant as he examined the products on the shelf, his voice still a little slurred.  Finally, he sat down and carefully pulled his Reese’s Cups out of his pocket.

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Two were placed neatly on the chair beside him, and the third he slowly unwrapped.  He ate it, and then repeated the action two more times.

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By then, the stylist walked our way and called his name…and I, with huge relief, saw that Aaron was in very good hands.

I knew he was in good hands because of the stylist’s big smile and her comfortable conversation with Aaron.  There was none of the awkward staring or obvious discomfort that we sometimes encounter when we are out.

Aaron sat in the wrong chair, one he has often used, but she handled it so easily.  Soon Aaron was sitting in the correct chair as the stylist asked him if he watched the Super Bowl.  Perfect question!

“Yeah!!” Aaron answered.  “Who did you vote for?!”

“I wanted the Chiefs to win,” she answered.  “Did you?”

“Yes!!” replied Aaron, rubbing his hands together in delight.

They talked about Super Bowl snacks as she cut Aaron’s hair and trimmed his facial hair, and soon she was done.

“Aaron, would you like some good smelling stuff in your hair?” she asked.

“I need to ask Mom,” he said as he looked my direction.

“MOM??” he yelled.  “Can she put some good smelling stuff in my hair?”

I laughed and said yes, of course, knowing how very happy Aaron would be with this turn of events.  He doesn’t have enough hair for good smelling stuff, but that’s not at all important.

Smiling, good smelling Aaron left there a very different person than when we walked in.  I did as well, I assure you.

And once again it hit me just how big a difference one person can make in another person’s day….specifically, in Aaron’s day…and thus, in mine.

Later that evening, Aaron was waiting on me to finish some things in my bedroom.  He was hovering, as he so often does.

“Mom!!”  he suddenly exclaimed.  “Do you want to smell my hair?!”

Normally, that would be a no.  A big no.  But not today, thanks to our difference-making hair stylist.

“Sure I do,” I answered.

Aaron chuckled in joy as I took a sniff.  He was rubbing his hands together, a sign of his total happiness.

Who would imagine that such a simple thing as good smelling hair stuff would bring such happiness to Aaron and to me?

His hair still smelled good, but more importantly, his heart was light and happy.  The residual nice scent was like the residual warmth in our hearts, both of us.

Never underestimate the difference you can make in someone’s life, especially in the lives of our special ones.  It isn’t necessary to spend money or to take tons of time.

A smile…a word…the warmth of understanding…are all such sweet gifts to each of us, parents and children alike.

That good smell lingers for such a long time!

Longer than the good smelling stuff in Aaron’s hair, trust me!   😊

 

 

She Took It All

One of Aaron’s favorite things to eat is a Cheddar Pasta Salad from the deli at Dillon’s.  The name has actually changed to Cheese Pasta Salad, but to Aaron and to me it’s still Cheddar Pasta Salad.  Aaron always gets a large size, watching carefully to see that the container is filled to the brim.  We go so often that we’ve gotten to know some of the deli workers, who can always guess what we want when we walk up to the counter.

Yesterday afternoon Aaron asked me if he could have a Cheddar Pasta Salad, so off we went to run an errand before the Chiefs – Titans football game, and then end at the Dillon’s deli.  Things were going smoothly, and I was happy that we would make it home in time for the game.

It doesn’t ever seem to matter how carefully I plan our entrance into Dillon’s.  Aaron always seems to somehow get ahead of me as we make our way to the deli counter.  He is definitely on a mission!

The problem is that he will often push in front of people if there are others standing at the counter.  Therefore, he and I are in a foot race as I try to head him off at the draw, before he offends the others who were there before us.  Aaron doesn’t care one bit about waiting his turn when it comes to his Cheddar Pasta Salad.  He doesn’t notice if people are staring or are angry, if they sigh or if they edge closer to the counter.  He only has eyes for the food behind the counter window, looking quickly to see if there is any Cheddar Pasta Salad.

Yesterday there was a mom there with her very cute little girl who was maybe four years old.  I made it to the counter just a few steps behind fast Aaron, just in time to touch his arm and remind him that someone was before us in line.

Aaron was very happy to see that there was some Cheddar Pasta Salad in the tray.  “Look, Mom,” he said.  “They have Cheddar Pasta Salad!”

“That’s what we’re getting, too!” said the friendly mom.  “It’s her favorite!” she added as she looked down at her smiling little daughter.

In an instant, I knew that we were in a dilemma.

In an instant, Aaron had figured out that there was NOT enough Cheddar Pasta Salad for both him and the little girl.

And in that instant, Aaron’s face fell.

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself.

The mother was telling me that her little girl just loved the pasta…that she never ate the broccoli…that the mom ate the broccoli…

“There won’t be enough for me!!” Aaron blurted out.

“Yes, Aaron, there will be some for you,” I assured him, while I felt dread creeping up my spine.  How far would Aaron go in his disappointment?  Would he become angry?

The mother also told Aaron that they weren’t taking all the salad, but Aaron could see that there would not be enough for his large container.

He stared down toward the floor, not making eye contact, as he tried to process the fact that these interlopers were taking HIS Cheddar Pasta Salad!

Their transaction done, the mother told us to have a good day and told Aaron to enjoy his salad.

“Shut up,” Aaron softly replied as he continued looking down at the ground.

I was horrified!!!!

The mother and cute daughter were walking away as I sternly told Aaron to say thank you to them.

He refused.

I told him through firm lips that he would NOT get his salad if he didn’t say thank you.

The girl behind the counter, new to us, was waiting on my order.  I fumbled out that we would take the rest of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” Aaron flatly said.

My face was flaming.

The mother and little girl were a short distance from us.  The container…the medium size and not the large…was being filled with the last of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“THANKS!!!” Aaron suddenly bellowed.

And the mother turned and smiled at us.  I wondered if she could see the distress on my face, and on Aaron’s as he processed taking home a medium container.

Not a LARGE!!

Then the mom and her daughter turned and walked right behind us.  I touched her arm and whispered to her.

“I don’t know if you heard what he said, but I’m so sorry,” I told her.

She said she didn’t hear anything.  I softly told her that Aaron has autism, but I could tell she knew.

“Don’t even worry,” she kindly said.  “My older daughter works at Open Doors with autism all the time, so I totally understand.”

Relief washed over me…partly because they hadn’t heard Aaron’s comment and largely because she was so kind.

I thanked her, turned back to Aaron…who was staring dejectedly at his medium container…and then she said to me:

“You’re a very good woman.”

I was so surprised!  I thanked her.

And I blinked back tears and swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

I was so happy that now Aaron was holding a jar of Chili Fig Spread, excited about his new find, moving on to the next thing as he always does.

He is so oblivious to other’s emotions.  So clueless as to the stress he inadvertently creates.

SO unaware of how embarrassing and wrong it is to tell someone to shut up!

But he did just that.

And he will do it again.

So, we give the lectures and we live the example, but none of that can permanently re-wire his brain.

I picked myself up off the floor, figuratively speaking, as I gathered my wits about me and picked up the pieces of my shattered motherly pride.

Yes, my son is the one who told you to shut up.

But this is our life with Aaron.

Aaron, who wants life to fall into place his way and when it doesn’t, is hardly able to do anything but to tell the offender to shut up.

But he DID say thanks!!  I’m so thankful for that!!

I DID give him his Cheddar Pasta Salad.  Look at his sad face, though.

 

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His medium…not large…Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” he said over and over as we walked through Dillon’s.

“She did NOT take it all!” I reminded him over and over.

We actually got a lot in return at that deli counter.

A large serving of kindness goes a long way!

 

MERCY!! AARON!!

I’m a southern girl.  Well, from southern West Virginia – born and bred – so no matter what the Civil War folks say about my home state, I still consider myself to be from the south.

I guess that’s why sometimes I just want to look at Aaron when he’s being a particular form of disagreeable and just say, “MERCY!!  AARON!!”

And then tell him that he just needs to hush!!

When I talk to Andrea or Andrew on the phone, Aaron invariably barges in the room and wants to talk.  This happened on Saturday evening as Andrea and I were gabbing away.  I knew Aaron would persist until I caved, so I finally put the phone on speaker and off Aaron went.

He was particularly fixated on Luigi’s Mansion 3 – his newest Nintendo Switch game.  And he was even more fixated on going over Luigi and Gooigi.  I think I spelled that right.

He wanted Andrea to know who Gooigi is.  What Gooigi is made of.  What color Gooigi is.  What Gooigi looks like.  What Gooigi does.

Andrea, ever patient with her brother, commented on everything Aaron said.  She even asked questions…good questions…which fanned Aaron’s flames and off he blazed.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.

It took me awhile to put out the flames.  I usually have to end the talking by telling Aaron to say goodbye, after he has pushed me away several times from taking back the phone.

Never once does he ask about Andrea or Kyle, or Darcy or Oakley or Aries or Siggy…all dogs, by the way.  😊

For some reason on Sunday evening, Aaron kept referring to that phone call.  He declared that I only wanted to talk to Andrea…that I never talk to him (REALLY??!!)…that I would hardly let him talk to her…and so forth and so on.

Everything is bad to Aaron when he gets like this, including the fact that I am a bad mom.  I eventually shut down when this happens, meaning that I do not fan the flames of Aaron’s anger by things I say.  Even my eyes – “Don’t squint your eyes, MOM!!”…or my voice inflections, can increase his anger.

Nothing that I say helps.  Nothing that Gary says helps.

Aaron’s lack of empathy and his inability to connect the dots like we do is a most frustrating part of his autism.

The next morning, weary and bothered, I thought of how my friend – a manager at Aaron’s day group – deals with these issues on the day after they occur.  Aaron often doesn’t want to go to Paradigm on that “next day” after he has blown it, but Barb always reminds him of an important truth.

“It’s a new day, Aaron,” she says.  “We just start all over and don’t let yesterday bother us.”

Thinking of that…of a new day…reminded me also of the wonderful promise in Lamentations 3:22-23:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

God’s love and mercy to me, no matter how much I sin, is new every morning.  And I know that I must also face every new morning with Aaron in the light of God’s loving-kindness to me.

If God is so loving and kind to me, how can I be any less to Aaron?

That next morning was still a little rough on Aaron’s part.  And then when I picked him up in the afternoon, as I watched him approach the van, I saw him stop and turn, running back into the building.

He returned, holding a paper that blew in the wind as he ran toward me again, his face all smiles.

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“MOM!!” he said as he got in the van.  “I colored this for you!”

With great delight he handed me this picture:

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I was so touched.  So amazed.

Amazed that Aaron sat still long enough to color.

Touched that he wanted to mend our fences in such a sweet way.

And both amazed and touched that it was a cross he colored for me.

You see, it’s because of the cross that I can even begin to love Aaron as I should, especially when he is at times so unlovable.

It’s because Jesus died for me, and because He is my Savior, that I AM loved and that I CAN love.

And I love how the old King James Version says that verse I wrote earlier.  “It is because of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.”

I am not consumed by hatred and sin or God’s judgment, but only because of God’s love and mercy.

Love and mercies that are new every morning.

Like I said, how can I love Aaron any less when I am so loved by God?

One more thing.  The cross is also the reason that I can bear the sadness and fear of Aaron’s 3:00 a.m. seizure today, and another one later.  The reason I can see him sleeping again now and know he may likely seize again.

The reason I can bear up under the disappointment of our doctor day being canceled…because doctor day means, to Aaron, eating out day.  And he does LOVE eating out!  It’s always a fun and happy day, but not today.

Aaron goes through these disappointments and rough days often, which means I do as well.

But like the verses above said, great is God’s faithfulness.  He doesn’t leave me to handle it all alone.  He is right beside me, my best friend, with His mercies and love that give me His peace that passes understanding.

Speaking of understanding, I won’t even go into all the detail of having to wash Aaron’s favorite fuzzy blanket today because he spilled coffee on it…and how it’s the only blanket that he wants to use on his lap when he’s at his desk…or on the couch.

About trying other blankets.

Rejecting those blankets.

Checking his blanket in the wash.

Observing me putting it in the dryer.

Following me around the house because without a blanket he can’t sit or lay.

MERCY!!!   AARON!!!

In the Crosswalk

What is it with Aaron and crosswalks??!!

I was asking myself this question yet again yesterday as Aaron and I exited Wal-Mart.

I could also ask the question, “What is it with Aaron and Wal-Mart??!!”

Oh, the stories!

As we got out of the van yesterday, while we were still rather obscurely hidden in the parking lot, I reminded Aaron to pull up his jeans.  He did that while tucking in his shirt, but for some reason yesterday his shirt tucking had a rather dramatic and unsettling beginning.  It involved Aaron fully sticking his arm down the FRONT of his pants, getting his shirt settled down there, and then working his way around the remaining waistband.

I told you it was unsettling.

“Aaron, good grief, you don’t need to make such a production of tucking your shirt in,” I instructed him as we walked through the store and he decided that his jeans and shirt needed repositioning several times.

Several times in the same manner mentioned above.

When will I ever learn to quit walking ahead of Aaron in Wal-Mart?

You would think after the nightie story and the falling cereal display story and the singing story…that I would know better.

I was in full “ hurry-to-the-van-while-mentally-checking-off-my-to-do-list-and-plan-my-next-stop-for-that-one-missing-item” mode as Aaron and I exited Wal-Mart.  Which means I wasn’t paying attention to lagging Aaron.

Instinct kicked in, I guess, because I turned around IN the crosswalk, with cars and staring drivers on either side of us, just in time to see Aaron pulling up his jeans and tucking in his shirt.

And doing it in that same disturbing manner!!!

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROSSWALK!!!!!

“AARON!!!” I calmly insisted, “STOP IT!!”

I said this while continuing to walk as if nothing was amiss at all.

Aaron knew then that he had erred, so he scurried up beside me as we left the embarrassing crosswalk.

“Well, I had to pull my pants up!” Aaron explained.

“In the middle of the crosswalk?!” I asked.

“What’s wrong with that?” Aaron questioned.

I just took a deep breath, reminded myself not to shame Aaron, and proceeded to once again remind him of how some things are best done in a less public setting.

Trust me, many of Aaron’s actions are best done in a MUCH less public setting!!

But Aaron truly doesn’t have a concept of social norms like you and I do.  No amount of proper parenting, wise advice, careful instruction, and repeated modeling of acceptable behaviors has…or ever will…change him.

I mean, he does show some improvements in some areas.  He hasn’t made his loud farting noise with his mouth in the middle of Wal-Mart in some time, come to think of it.

He can be so funny, but he can also be so exhausting.  The exhaustion is mostly mental for me and Gary with some emotional thrown in as well.

A big part of it is Aaron’s talking.  He loves to follow us around the house, sometimes a LOT, and talk…always a LOT!!

Our son, Andrew, drove home from Indianapolis for Thanksgiving.  Aaron had fresh ears to listen to all his talking, but he also had competition.  The competition comes into play for Aaron because now he must share our attention.  He is not the only person in the house, and he must share his podium with his brother.

This is difficult for Aaron, try as he might to be patient.  Another issue is the topic of our conversations.  Aaron’s topics are typically about aliens, Star Wars or Transformers or Terminators or whatever else he is watching, relational issues at his day group, and more about aliens and outer space and droids and what-do-we-think about aliens and outer space and droids, etc., etc., etc.

All of us are like the drivers in the crosswalk, where Aaron has the right-of-way and we must wait for him to cross.  No amount of confirmation from us toward Aaron can change the fact that his mind-numbing conversations dull our responses to him…and he senses this.

He also truly wants to be the ONLY one talking, and this is where we must step in and remind him to take his turn.  This creates anger on his part and resentment toward the person who has pushed him off his podium, albeit unwittingly, but done none-the-less.  We all understand this about Aaron, and even expect it, but still it’s tiring.

On the day before Thanksgiving, Gary got home early from work so we along with Andrew picked Aaron up from his day group and went out to eat in Old Town.  Aaron had a seizure early that morning, and another one about an hour before we picked him up, but it didn’t dull his tongue.  Not one bit.  😊

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But my favorite picture of our Thanksgiving was when Aaron waddled into the kitchen wearing his shark blanket – a gift from Andrea and Kyle for his birthday – and proceeded to continue talking.  It was just hilarious to see him standing there, oblivious to how he looked, and still talking up a storm.

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Again, we were trapped in the crosswalk…all of us with hidden smiles on our faces…and Aaron unaware of how comical he looked.

Living with Aaron isn’t always easy, especially when we’re already stressed about other life events and concerns.  Having to stop on a busy day for people in the crosswalk isn’t always fun, either.  So, when we’re rushing to get ready for the holidays in the midst of having some remodeling done, with lots of furniture to move around and mess to clean up – thanks for your awesome help, Andrew!! – and Gary is having foot surgery on Monday and will be incapacitated for a long time in a house full of stairs!! – and there’s decorating and shopping and surgery prep and just LIFE!!…

Those crosswalks can be very, very irritating and draining.

It helps to be able to smile and sometimes laugh and to think of Aaron in his shark outfit, not to be derailed from talking!

The pulling up his pants thing, though.  Some things are best forgotten.

My apologies to all the drivers at that crosswalk.

It was memorable, I’m sure.  😊  😊

Aaron usually is.