Category: Understanding

Included

Last night, I peeked into Aaron’s room and saw this:

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THIS…is Aaron finishing The Meg movie by watching the credits.  He keeps his eyes glued to the screen as if he is looking at the most pivotal part of the movie and wouldn’t dare look away.  He knew that I was getting ready to go downstairs so that he and I could watch our nightly show.

“Mom, I’m almost done!” he said.  “It won’t be long!”

To Aaron, the credits are a part of the movie.  He will not end a movie when most of us say that a movie is over.  No.  The movie is over only when the credits end.

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If Aaron starts something, he will finish it in his Aaron way.

Aaron has started something else recently.  It’s not the first time we’ve seen him start this thing, but it’s the most recent.  It’s not something that we can touch or see, but it’s something that we definitely hear.  And feel…because Aaron feels it deeply.

I can explain it by telling what happened a few weeks ago.  We were eating breakfast on a Saturday morning on our patio.  Gary prayed before we ate.  One thing he did was to ask God to take care of us, and also to bless and take care of Andrea and Kyle, and Andrew.  He named them, but for us three sitting at the table, Gary just said “us.”

No big deal, right?  Wrong.

Aaron’s head popped up after the prayer and immediately he said, “You don’t also want to love ME?!”

Gary NOT using Aaron’s name did NOT sit well with Aaron.

We talked about why Gary called us “us,” and explained that it had not one thing to do with not loving Aaron.  Aaron finally hushed about it, but we could tell he wasn’t totally convinced.

Like I said, once Aaron starts something, he will finish it…sometimes weeks later.  And even if we think it’s finished, one more little part of it may emerge at any moment.

Aaron has a very difficult time expressing his deep feelings in conversation.  He also has a blind spot when it comes to seeing how he is affecting others at times.  But to be so unaware of other’s reactions, he sure can see a difference sometimes in how we talk to him compared to how we talk to our other children.

For instance, when I’m on the phone with Andrea, Aaron will almost always stand beside me at some point and want to talk to her.  He waits and waits until I let him have the phone, or turn it on speaker, and then he goes on and on and on about his latest movie or game.  He doesn’t ask her about her life but gets his satisfaction by doing all the talking.  Andrea responds so well, and Aaron loves it.

But Aaron has also observed that the way I talk to Andrea, and she talks to me, is different from how we talk to him.  He doesn’t get why it’s that way, and he really isn’t able to change it, but he does know that our interactions with each other are not what they’re like with him.

This has been bothering him lately, and he’s been comparing himself to her or to Andrew.  Therefore, he strives for attention…and Gary and I strive to give him a share of our attention while we are getting more and more tired of the striving.

The other night, Gary and I snuck outside and sat on our front porch.  Just the two of us.  Talking.  Uninterrupted.

But then we heard the door in the garage close.  Aaron popped around the corner.  We were caught!

There Aaron stood, talking and talking and talking.  Talking about Terminators and Trandoshians and clones from the Delta squad and visor modes…

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Our brains freeze and our minds wander when Aaron talks non-stop.  Then he asks a question, waiting for an answer, and we do a mental hustle trying to remember what on earth he was talking about.  It’s a scenario repeated so often, and one that Aaron so often interprets as a lack of interest on our part.

A couple nights ago, Andrea texted during supper and sent us a picture of what is growing on the mystery plant in their yard.  Grapes!  It was fun to see the picture as we’ve all wondered if the plant was a grapevine.  Gary and I were happy!

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Then yesterday, she sent a picture of their first onion harvest from their backyard garden.  And again, we were happy.

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But Aaron was not happy.  Once again, he sensed more enthusiasm from us about Andrea’s life than his.  And once again we were doing damage control for much of the evening.  UGH!!

This morning, Aaron was up and on his computer at 4:30.  That’s 4:30 A.M!!!  I got him to go back to bed, but he was up again not long after.  And as I talked to him, he mentioned Andrea and her things and he hoped she wouldn’t call.

I sighed.  But not where he could hear me.  He heard me sigh once when I was on the verge of anger.

“Don’t breathe madly!!” he commanded me.

I went to the kitchen this morning, and then decided to do the hard thing that I didn’t feel like doing.  I walked back upstairs to Aaron, sitting at his computer.

“Hey, Aaron,” I said.  “Do you want some eggs and bacon?”

He did.  So later, there we were, sitting at our kitchen table eating eggs and bacon.  I wanted to be having my quiet time and talking to God, but here I was having a not-so-quiet time and talking to Aaron.

But before I prayed over our food, Aaron blew me away by what he said.

“I just want to be included,” he said.

That was truly amazing!  And as we ate, I was able to assure him that he IS included in our lives.  Yet no number of words coming from my mouth gave him assurance of that fact as much as my listening to HIS words coming from his mouth.

Really listening.  Asking questions.  Looking at his Ironman Guide Book that he ran and got from his room.

The flying fortress.  AIM.  Girl face statues.  Titanium Man.  The frozen ship.  The brain controls that make you dizzy.  And oh, SO much more!

Then I got a text on my phone.

“Better not be Andrea,” Aaron muttered.  “Like her grapes and onions!”

I wanted to laugh but knew better.  And I know better than to think that this inclusion and being loved business is settled.  I know it isn’t. But I was very touched by how Aaron calmed and responded when he knew he had not only my full attention, but my full interest.

The credits on this part of Aaron’s life movie are still rolling, and we must show interest…and also guide him to know when it’s time for a break.

And that a break doesn’t mean exclusion!

God, give us and so many other parents like us the grace to love ALL our children just the same, even when the expression of that love is anything but the same.

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My Special Needs

I hate Mom.

Those were the last words I heard Aaron mutter softly as he lay in his bed after a very rough evening.  I heard those words on the baby monitor that I keep on my nightstand so that I can hear seizures.  I would rather have heard a seizure, honestly. 

And I was so frustrated at his hurtful words that I picked up the monitor, pressed the talk button, and nearly…very nearly…spoke angry words that would have only exacerbated the situation on so many levels.  I am glad I didn’t.

Earlier in the evening I had written another funny clip about Aaron on Facebook.  I love sharing the very unique and humorous ways that Aaron speaks.  His take on the world can be side-splitting hilarious and so refreshing.

But he has another take on the world as well, and that take can take a huge toll on me and on Gary…and take every tiny ounce of patience that we have left in order not to erupt ourselves into verbal onslaughts that will match Aaron’s, word for word. 

I knew that we might be in for a rough night when Aaron was still playing a game on his computer after 9:00.  He’s usually downstairs long before then, hovering over me, waiting for me to finish whatever I am doing so that we can watch one of his TV shows on his DVD set.  But 9:00 came and went, with no return of Aaron who had previously asked me to assure him that we would watch a DVD at his precise, set time.

Upstairs I went, only to find him playing one of his favorite Lego Star Wars games on his computer.  When Aaron plays a game like this, he has a very hard time stopping it and saving it.  He must reach a certain point in the game, and in his mind, before he will turn it off.  For over an hour he kept repeating the same phrase, loudly: “I’m coming!!”  Over and over and over.

I knew better than to rush him, but I also knew that the clock was moving toward bedtime and not TV time.  We were in for it, I knew it…and I was right.

Aaron finally rushed downstairs and barreled into the family room, eyes wide and words rushing out. 

“Can we watch Bones, Mom?!!  Can we??!!”

I reminded him of the late hour, but he didn’t care one bit about that.  He was in such a tizzy.  And he could tell that I was tired and didn’t want to stay up late.  His whole nighttime routine was a wreck now, due to no fault of mine, but Aaron refused to take responsibility. 

Mom was mean.  Mom was dumb.  Mom didn’t care.  On and on.

He turned his DVD on.  Turned it off.  More yelling.  Turned it on.  Turned it off.  Asked if I was crying, over and over and over…for Aaron does NOT like to see me cry.  I wasn’t crying, but he didn’t believe me, so he stared and stared at me.  And he also does not like for me to make funny eye or facial movements, so he stood in front of me as I sat on the couch, demonstrating to me with his own face the looks from MY face that he would not tolerate.

It was just too much.  He looked so funny, really, that in my tiredness I did the forbidden…I laughed.  Aaron thought I was laughing AT him personally.  He erupted and we traveled even further downhill than we already were.

It was a wild hour after that.  He was in and out of his bedroom…in and out of bed…in and out of our bedroom.  He was calmer talking to Gary…angry talking to me.   Say goodnight, Mom…no, don’t say goodnight, Mom.  I don’t want your goodnight kiss…OK, I do want your kiss. 

He calmed when Gary came upstairs.  He let me hug and kiss him goodnight.  And then the soft, muttered words that I heard on the monitor…words that showed he was still upended and very frustrated. 

My calmness during the whole episode only seemed to fuel his flames.  The realistic, upset words I did say seemed to appeal to him more than soft kindness.  So strange how that works.  So strange how that complex brain of his works.

Seizures are honestly easier to handle than are the behaviors.  Seizures are scary and sad.  Behaviors are exhausting and often hurtful.  People feel sorry for seizures.  But behaviors…what do you do with behaviors? 

And behaviors leave me feeling like a very unfit special needs mother.  I am not above the anger and the lost patience that Aaron’s anger and lost patience trigger in me.  Then comes the guilt and regret.

I lay in bed last night, Gary’s calmness and nearness giving me comfort.  But my tension was strong, too, and sleep wouldn’t come.  My tossing and turning was keeping Gary awake, too, I knew.  I would relax and then thoughts would wash over me.  I would relax again and Aaron would stir, seeming to be restless as well. 

There are so many thoughts and emotions that go through my mind after these episodes, infrequent though they have been lately.  How could I have handled it differently?  What should I have said?  What should I have NOT said?  Guilt for not liking Aaron when he’s out of control.  On and on.

What I do know is that God is always there for me.  He heard me last night, there in the dark, praying and confessing and praising.  He knows my form.  He knows that I am human and that I am weak and that I need Him, totally.  He knows that I get frustrated and tired, and that I do love Aaron with all my heart.  And He knows that though I love Aaron, sometimes I don’t like him when he’s angry and full of hurtful…and hurting…words.

Being a mom of a child with special needs is never easy.  Some days…and happenings…make it harder than others. 

But then I think about God, and how often I am that child with special needs and how much He gives me His love and His grace. 

That’s the kind of parent I need to be with Aaron.  Forgiving him…understanding but not condoning…and opening my heart and my arms with love. 

I have no superior wisdom or strength.  I mess up…I give up…I look up.  And there I find God, always understanding and giving me grace. 

God’s a good Father to me, his special needs daughter.  I need all He gives to me and does for me, for I have nothing of my own.  He certainly didn’t choose me for this parenting role because of anything I have to bring to the table.  He chose me because…well, I don’t really know.  But what I DO know is that He is all-knowing about what is best, and that in all of this I see MY special needs every bit as much as I see Aaron’s.

And in the seeing, I am shown God’s great love and great grace and how His arms are always under me, bearing me up when I am at my weakest.  Which is often.

God loves me, His special needs daughter. 

And He will give me all that I need to do the same for Aaron, His special needs son that He entrusted to my feeble care. 

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Aaron’s Bowl of Normal

Walking through the family room the other day, I noticed something red sitting on the end table beside Aaron’s favorite chair.  I knew he had left his bowl of Hot Tamales on the table, but there was something else.  I stopped to look, and this is what I saw.

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Aaron had set aside these two Hot Tamales.  This is nothing new, so I knew exactly what it meant.  It meant that Aaron realized these two Hot Tamales were a different shape and size than his normal Hot Tamales.  To Aaron, they don’t fit into the bowl of regular candy.  They are not the norm.  They must be separated from the usual candy, sitting there until all his candy is finished, and then thrown away.  He will not eat them.  They are unacceptable to him. 

Our Christmas holiday is still a warm memory to me.  However, not every memory with Aaron is warm and fuzzy.  Those unusual Hot Tamales help explain our family dynamic perfectly.

Aaron both loves, and somewhat dreads, our Christmas celebration.  He loves the anticipation of opening his gifts.  He looks forward to time off from his day group…time to be at home relaxing and filling his days with whatever he wants.  He likes seeing what food I am making, hoping that some of his favorites are in the mix. 

However, Aaron’s autistic mind is also very aware that his structured schedule is about to change.  He knows that he will soon need to share his ordered world with Andrea and Kyle…with their three dogs…and with Andrew.  He even must share his bathroom, for crying out loud!  In his mind, he is already setting aside some of these daily issues much like he does his unacceptable Hot Tamales.  They are not the norm, so they are cast off mentally as being unpleasing…yet in this case, necessary.

Aaron in many ways looks forward to our family being together for Christmas, just as he looks forward to eating his candy that is poured into one of his ever-present bowls.  But soon comes along those pesky interruptions into his ordered life…interruptions that are very difficult for him to sort and to deal with properly.

Christmas Eve is most often the time for what Andrew calls “Aaron’s Annual Christmas Meltdown.”  We say this with a smile when Aaron doesn’t hear us, but we also say it with some dread for what might come. 

Two of our best Christmas traditions occur on Christmas Eve.  My favorite is the Christmas Eve service at our church.  Each year we ask Aaron to come, and each year he turns down our offer.  The large crowds…all the talking with strange people…some of the louder music…and having to sit quietly for such a long time…are all very stressful to Aaron.  We understand this, and we don’t push the issue.  We know better.  But each year I’m sad that our picture in front of one of the beautiful Christmas trees does not include our full family.

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When we get home from the Christmas Eve service, our other fun Christmas tradition takes place.  Christmas Bingo!!  Otherwise known as the usual cause for “Aaron’s Annual Christmas Meltdown.”  Our Christmas Bingo is fun and loud and unpredictable.  Aaron greatly dislikes loud, unpredictable fun…which to him is NOT fun!  This is why Aaron shuns parties of any kind.  He says that people act weird at parties.  Never mind that on any given day one may hear Aaron clapping or saying outlandish things as he watches a show or scratching himself openly in Wal-Mart.  Aaron sees his actions as totally fine, but when Gary acts goofy as he announces each Bingo card, Aaron’s frustrations grow and grow.  Add to that our laughter and joking, winning or NOT winning each round, prizes that disappoint…well, Aaron’s bowl of normal is quickly being emptied and he is usually simmering as the game progresses.

This year, Aaron joined us after we had played a couple rounds.  He hovered near the table, observing us and seeming to need time to gather his courage to sit down at the table.  Aaron usually targets one of the guys, especially Kyle since he is new to our family and Aaron still isn’t sure it’s OK that he married Andrea.  He targets Andrew because Aaron has always been somewhat jealous of his brother.  And he targets Gary because Gary is Dad, and Dad is acting way too silly. 

When Aaron sat down with us to play, we all quietly decided to try to make the game as non-silly as possible.  We also decided to be as quiet as possible when announcing that we had a Bingo.  However, this plan ultimately made us laugh even more…as quietly as possible but still not quiet enough for Aaron. 

But something else was also going on with Aaron.  Andrea later said it very well.  Aaron knew that things were very funny because we were all laughing, but he couldn’t figure out what the funny things were.  There were many comical moments, but none made Aaron laugh.  He was focused and intense and struggling very hard to keep from being angry.  There was nothing worth laughing about in Aaron’s mind.  Instead, he was wondering why we were all laughing at the gifts and at each other’s comments, and as we see every year, his tension was mounting and his fun meter was doing way down. 

My heart went out to him as I just watched him sitting on the opposite end of the table from me.  He had just won a prize and was so very seriously opening the little box. 

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He loved getting a Bingo, and I found myself wanting him to win every time.  But life isn’t like that, and I knew he needed to once again learn to be a part of our world…loud and puzzling and frustrating and disappointing as it is.  He can’t remove the parts of life around him that are not his normal.  He must adapt as much as possible, and we must also be allowed to enjoy our family life together with him when we can…when he can. 

There are small ways that we have learned to let Aaron be…to not ripple the water unnecessarily.  Like when he won a bottle of body wash, but it was ladies body wash.  With each other, we would have laughed at this…making fun of the girlie name on the bottle and teasing whichever guy had the misfortune of winning it.  But not with Aaron.  We just kept quiet about it, watching Aaron stash his prize safely on the floor beside him.  And later that night, I found the body wash placed in the shower to be used by him the next morning.  I never said a word to him about it, and he happily used it…and smelled very nice!

We pick our battles with Aaron when we can, happy that he actually made it through this Bingo game without an eruption of anger.  His anger later spilled out toward me after I made a random comment about forgetting to put the ham cheese ball out to eat, saying that maybe we should start our game all over.  That did NOT make him happy…and neither did my hand motions that he copied angrily.  He was so done with that evening!  All of us were picked out of his normal bowl, trust me!

I was happy that his seizure during the night didn’t ruin his Christmas day.  I was happy that he was able to open his presents, though he was heavy-eyed and dreary after the seizure.  I was happy that his other seizure later that day was during his nap, and that he didn’t fall down. 

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And I was especially very happy that our neighbor came over and took our family picture in front of our tree.

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For really, our family isn’t complete without Aaron.  He may want to kick us at times out of his normal bowl, but then he does turn around and let us back into his life. 

And we do the same with Aaron, over and over and over again.  We welcome…we include…we modify…we adjust…we sigh…we go to bed tired – but we do love our Aaron and will always want him in OUR bowls as much as possible. 

 

 

The Rat

It all started one recent night when our almost-broken DVD player became the totally-broken DVD player.  Aaron and I were watching the next Blue Bloods show that was in Aaron’s rigid schedule for the evening.  Aaron kindly paused the program while I went into the kitchen.  Something about that pause became the something that pushed our ailing DVD player into its grave.  Even Gary, our go-to he-can-fix-everything guy, came but could not fix.  And as I watched Aaron’s frustrated reaction, I rightly guessed that he would also be very difficult to fix that night.

I was very correct on that one.

There are times when Aaron handles life’s interruptions of his routine with amazing calm and grace.  That night was not one of those times. 

I didn’t help, either.  When Aaron became more belligerent, I became more frustrated.  I don’t do end-of-the-day meltdowns very well, especially as I get older.   I finally told Aaron not to be a bully.  But I didn’t end there.  I also told him not to be a bully brat.  I thought it had a nice ring to it, you know. 

Aaron did not think it had a nice anything.

Now we not only had to go to bed without finishing our Blue Bloods show, and knowing that the DVD player was dead, but we also had to walk up our stairs for our goodnight routine harboring anger.  I could have made amends and gone right to bed with no problem. 

Aaron could not.

And so began an age-old bedtime dance that we hadn’t done together in a long time.  It basically consisted of Aaron refusing to do what is normally done and insisting on doing what is unacceptable. 

His angry comments included: 

“I am NOT helping put the oil in the diffuser!”

“I am NOT taking my medicine oil!”

“I am NOT saying goodnight to you!”

“I am NOT going to bed!”

“I am NOT letting you kiss me goodnight!”

“I am NOT a bully brat!”

I stayed as calm and flat as I could be in my reactions as I went about my own bedtime routine.  Aaron continued his fuming by going into his room and closing his door, only to open it seconds later.  He would stomp up the hall and come into my room, hurling another angry comment at me.  One time he closed his door normally, but immediately reopened it so that he could slam it shut the second time.  I had to smile at that one.

But I wasn’t smiling at any of the rest, for sure.  I was sorry it had come to this…I was very tired…and I was totally aware that Aaron’s outrage could continue for some time.  Therefore, I just went to bed, pulling my covers up and acting as if everything was normal.  Gary had not come upstairs yet, so I left my door open. 

Sure enough, Aaron clomped up the hall again and came into my bedroom.  He didn’t even seem to blink as he saw me in bed and so changed his direction, standing on Gary’s side of the bed.  He glared down at me under the covers and continued his verbal barrage.  Then he was off, slamming his bedroom door before soon reopening it, and repeating the same action again and again.  In my bedroom, hovering over the bed as he angrily talked, and off again.  I don’t even know how many times this occurred.

Then all of a sudden, the next time Aaron hurried to my room to glower at me, he didn’t.  He didn’t hover and glower, but instead he sat on the bed beside me.  He started rubbing his hands together and then he said, “Mom, do you know what Nanomites are?” 

Really.  Nanomites.

And just as seriously as I possibly could, with no hint of surprise or laughter or tiredness,  I told him that I did not know what Nanomites are.  There we were, in the dim light, talking ever so diligently about Nanomites.  We didn’t talk about our anger…our hurt…our frustration with each other…our disappointment in the dead DVD player…or our needed apologies.  We talked about Nanomites.

And all was well. 

Aaron went back to his bedroom.  I stayed in bed, waiting.  Soon he was headed back up the hall, but this time he came around to my side of the bed.

“Here Mom,” he said.  “I want you to have this.”

A couple days earlier, I had taken Aaron to Dollar Tree.  You would have thought I had let him enter heaven for a few minutes.  He bounced from aisle to aisle, SO excited by his many finds, but definitely the MOST excited by this big, plastic, long-tailed, red-eyed rat! 

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I rolled over in bed that night, and there on my night stand was that long-tailed, red-eyed rat.  I knew as sure as ever, then, that things were right with me and Aaron.  He had given me what at that moment was most precious to him…his black, plastic rat. 

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He laughed and bent over as he rubbed his hands together…a sign of his pure joy.  And I thanked him.  I thanked him as sincerely as if he had placed a huge vase of roses on my night stand.

Aaron wanted me to come and say goodnight in the way we always do, so I did.  Then as I was in my bathroom right after that, I heard Aaron once again walk up the hall.  He knocked on the bathroom door, and when I answered he said, “Mom, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Aaron,” I replied.  “I love you.”

“I love you,” he mumbled as he hurried off and back to bed.

I kept that ugly plastic rat on my night stand for a couple days.  It reminded me of so much.  It was an unusual picture of my relationship not only with Aaron, but also with God.

How many times have I been angry with God over a problem or a situation in my life?  Maybe not even full-blown anger but frustrated and not trusting Him totally.  How many times have I held onto hurt, or worry, or fear, or whatever else it may be that I want to harbor close to me.  Things or people or events that I don’t want to relinquish to God? 

All the going back and forth with God doesn’t accomplish a single thing.  It’s only when I yield to Him and to His control in my life, tell Him I’m sorry if I need to do so, and then give Him my thing that to me is precious…that I want to keep and coddle…only then will I have true peace.  Also, only then will I have open communication and sweet fellowship with God again.  Only then will I see what’s on the new path upon which He has set my feet.

Who knew what that silly red-eyed black plastic rat would teach me? 

Leave it to Aaron…and to God…to take the bad times and make them full of good.

 

 

Parts and Pieces

I walked out into the garage the other day and this caught my eye.

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What is this?  It certainly looks like a small trash can that contains little pieces of paper.  It is that, but it is also much more.  So much more, at least to me. 

You see, this trash can holds the small pieces of paper that are left when Aaron cuts out a coupon for me.  Aaron cuts out the Sunday coupons every Sunday, rain or shine, do or die.  He has quite the coupon cutting routine going on as he positions everything just right.  His pillow on which he sits, his coffee beside him, a particular pair of scissors that are used ONLY for coupons, the coupon box…it’s all placed just so-so before the cutting process even starts.

Then he methodically cuts each coupon on the dotted lines (more or less), and if there is final perfecting needing to be done…if the dotted line cutting isn’t quite accurate enough…then he will continue to cut around the coupon that he is holding until it is just right.  Thus he has small strips of paper that fall to the floor in front of him. 

These strips of paper cannot just be scooped up and thrown away.  No, no!!  He carefully takes each thin strip of paper and cuts it into even smaller pieces as he holds it over his little trash can.  For weeks and weeks, these paper strips pile up inside his green trash can until finally, someday…when the can is very full…Aaron, and only Aaron, will decide to throw them away and start all over. 

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When I glanced at the familiar trash can that day, seeing all the colors and sizes of papers inside, I immediately thought that this is such a true picture of Aaron himself.  There are so many parts and pieces of Aaron, just as all of us have parts and pieces, but Aaron’s are truly unique because of his autism.  Looking at all the pieces of what makes Aaron…Aaron…gives much understanding of what makes him tick.  Maybe it will also give all of us some needed understanding of so many others who are one-of-a-kind special people, yet similar in many ways as well. 

Let me give you some examples of our Aaron’s parts and pieces.

I’ll start with coupons.  Sometimes I will put a Dillon’s coupon in the red coupon box.  If I haven’t had time to sort the coupons by the following Sunday, this is where I will find the Dillon’s coupon. 

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It’s under the bench beside him.  This is because Dillon’s coupons are odd to Aaron and don’t belong with regular coupons. 

This way of thinking is also why I found these a few days ago.

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These are Skittles, but not just any Skittles.  They are misshapen in some way, so Aaron won’t eat them.  To the side they go, to be later thrown away.

This same Aaron principle is why I sometimes find pieces of food on a napkin, set aside by Aaron to be thrown away instead of eaten.  Usually this part of his food is shunned because it’s too crisp.  He can’t just push it aside on his plate.  It must be completely removed from the plate.

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Aaron must nearly always have a spoon and fork when he eats, even if he’s eating a finger food that requires neither.  And multiple napkins, for sure!

Aaron always, always has a salad when we eat in a restaurant.  Often the salad is served on a plate, which he never minds at all.  But here at home, salad must be in a bowl.  One night I suggested that he eat his salad on a plate, to make it easier.  He stood by the table, staring at the offending plate, and then told us that he just wouldn’t eat salad that night.  He wasn’t angry…just very matter of fact.  So I got out his bowl and he ate his salad. 

Aaron enjoys watching Wheel of Fortune at 6:30, after supper.  One evening I asked him if he was going to watch, and he said yes, so I told him to turn on the TV.  He paused.  Why?  Because it was 6:25…and Aaron will NOT turn on the TV for Wheel of Fortune until 6:28.   Yes, you read that correctly.  6:28.  On.  The.  Dot.

6:25 was a ridiculous idea.  Aaron stood there, staring at the clock for a few seconds before his eyes riveted back to the television screen, black because it was OFF.  Clock.  Screen.  Clock.  Screen.

Finally, he spoke.  “Should I turn it on at 6:27?” he cautiously asked.

I took this event as seriously as he did as I told him that I would turn it on, so he ventured out and did just that. 

VICTORY!!!  At least for that one night. 

He wants to only eat lunch at 12:00 on the weekends when he’s home, or maybe after…but NOT before 12:00.  I asked him one Saturday if he wanted to eat lunch and he said yes.  Then he stopped and looked at the clock.  He then said no to lunch.  I knew why, but I asked him anyway.

“It’s 11:48,” he replied patiently to his silly mom.  “I’ll eat at 12:00.”

I’ve watched him sitting on his bed carefully watching his clock before writing his time-to-bed in the log that he faithfully keeps.  As soon as the clock is precisely on the next minute, he will write down the time.  Or I’ve seen him write down the time, look at the clock as it suddenly is on the next minute, and then watch as he scribbles through the time he wrote in order to put down the exact minute. 

And when Aaron watches a DVD, he watches it from the very beginning to the VERY end…all the credits…EVERY single line and word.  He does the same with a book, reading the very first page, the table of contents, and ending with the index in the back. 

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I’ll never forget how I learned that about Aaron.  Years ago, he was reading one of his Handy Answer books and he came to me with a question.  “Mom, what does http/www. ,mean?”  I asked him to show me what he was talking about, so he showed me the very end of the book with all the references to various web sites.  Even after I told him what it was, and that he didn’t have to read that, he continued to read every single one. 

Living with Aaron can be so many things because of his many parts and pieces.  It can be hilarious, fascinating, entertaining, demanding, frustrating, and maddening.  All in one day!!

And just as there are outward displays of his varied parts and pieces, there are many inner examples of Aaron’s unique design.  His way of thinking…of processing life…of feeling valued, or not…of feeling important, or not.  Those parts of Aaron are sometimes very difficult to predict, to understand, and to handle correctly. 

It’s his inward desires that, if unmet, are often understood better by us only after angry eruptions on his part.  This is very typical of those with autism.  Aaron already has a hard time talking to us about his feelings or desires, but it IS those very feelings and desires that drive him to outbursts of anger and resentment. 

So again, we are seen trying to fit together another aspect of Aaron…more parts and pieces, like his coupon pieces, that demand to be seen and understood for what they are. 

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We have been a party to this inner part of Aaron for some time now as it relates to his sister falling in love.  Andrea and Kyle will be married next month, so this occasion has opened a whole new door to us…and especially to Aaron.  Matters of the heart actually open all sorts of doors.  It’s been a very interesting, and sometimes very sad, process…one that I will write more about later. 

One that has plenty of parts and pieces of its own!  Stay tuned! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mentioning It

On our way to Aaron’s day group this morning, we started listening to Aaron’s current music choice – The Best of Alabama.  Aaron LOVES listening to music while we drive, unless he’s talking non-stop…which means he will stop the CD, say his piece, start the CD, stop the CD to say more, start the CD, stop it again. 

You get the idea. 

He will often, after those stops and starts, decide to push the button that takes the CD back to the beginning of the song.

“I couldn’t hear it, Mom.  You were talking,” he explains.

ME???!!!

And Aaron doesn’t seem to notice at all my long sigh or my rolling eyes.  His eyes are staring straight ahead out the front windshield as he is absorbed in the song.  If the song is one of his very favorites, he will work his finger magic – rubbing his hands together and doing his unique finger work, sometimes very briskly and with a huge smile on his face.  Other times he is slow and methodical.  Here’s a video:

 

 

In the van, he usually holds his hands up high enough for people driving beside us to see his hands.  He honestly looks like a mad scientist hatching a new experiment.  I wonder what the other car occupants think as they see Aaron.

I wonder what lots of people think as they see Aaron.

I know what I think.  Well, actually, my thoughts depend on many things.  But on a normal day…normal for us, that is…I think that Aaron is pretty amazing and often very funny.

Autism is like that.  We have levels of amazement mixed with levels of laughter thrown in with levels of frustration.

Aaron is the constant.  He is the reason for these levels that we experience. 

Our constant…Gary and me…must be God and each other as we handle the other constant – Aaron.

So back to the Alabama music.  The first song was “Gone Country.”  Aaron was his usual excited self as he did his hand and finger thing while we drove down the road. 

“He’s gone country,” Jackson sang, “look at them boots.  He’s gone country, back to his roots.  He’s gone country,…”

Finally, Aaron said with some exasperation, “He keeps mentioning it!!”

HaHaHa!!! 

Aaron, of course, was paying attention to each word and those repeated words were getting on his nerves!

Now this is particularly funny to me because if there is anyone on planet earth who keeps “mentioning it,” it would be Aaron.

For instance, just after Aaron observed the repetition in Jackson’s song, we passed a little motel.

“That’s a motel,” Aaron flatly said.  I knew exactly where he was going with this because Aaron has observed that there are motels, but there are also hotels.  He has talked hotel and motel into the ground, but he can’t resist the urge to keep “mentioning it.”  We have looked up the definitions of motel and hotel, too.  Anything to explain it to Aaron, trust me.

I mean, who would even notice that?

Aaron would…and he did.

“There’s another motel,” he continued as we passed one. 

“There’s a hotel,” he then said seconds later.

And a couple miles down the road, I heard him soberly say, “Inn.”

Yes, we drove by an inn.  Great!  Now we have a new word in the mix!

Again, he didn’t notice me shaking my head.

There are times that Aaron does notice the messages that our bodies are sending.  Those times usually occur when Aaron is angry or on the verge of anger.  And often what he thinks he sees is nothing that we have done on purpose.  I probably see this more in the mornings than any other time.  That’s because if Aaron wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, he is hyper vigilant and sensitive to every word and every movement that comes from me.  I can be as flat in my reactions as possible, but invariably something will catch Aaron’s eye.

I saw this one morning when Aaron trudged into the kitchen, instantly saying that he was tired and that he didn’t want to go to Paradigm.  My affect was unemotional as I told him I was sorry, and then proceeded to get his coffee.  I have no idea what I did, but Aaron saw something.

“You make weird hand signals,” he commented.

And I knew that I needed to just go about my business, not responding or arguing or asking for an explanation.

I especially knew it later when in his bedroom Aaron got in one more parting shot as I walked away.

“Weird hand signals lady!” he said with more energy.

Talk about “mentioning it!”  Aaron won’t let these issues go easily, but if I comment it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire.  He drank his coffee while I got ready, and later he was fine.  No more mention of my weird hand signals.

And trust me, the irony was not lost on me as we drove to Paradigm later and he rubbed his hands together with delight during a favorite song.

Weird hand signals, huh? 

Aaron wanted to stay home one day this week.  He was tired after some intestinal issues the day before, but still he could have gone.  I didn’t push it, though, but he knew I wasn’t happy about it.

“You’re being quiet toward me,” he observed. 

It’s good for him to know that…good for him to see the effect that HE has on us…and good for him to verbalize it. 

The next day, he did go to Paradigm but he wasn’t very happy again first thing in the morning.  As he wearily talked to me in the kitchen, and I responded, he was eyeing me carefully through his tired eyes.

“Mom!” he blurted out.  “Stop doing things with your funny eyes!!”

I had to hide my funny eyes and face at that one.  I was thankful that he walked away so that I could at least smile largely. 

A trip to Dillon’s on our way to Paradigm that morning cheered him up tremendously.  Talk about things to notice and things to mention!  Dillon’s is full of possibilities.

And did he ever find a big one!  As I checked out his pack of gum he found, he had walked away…and soon I heard this.

“MOM!!  Can I put this in my bedroom??!!”

Everyone else turned with me to see Aaron carrying this huge thing.

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Others smiled and laughed with me, little children were looking up with wonder at loud Aaron holding this large spider, and the screen behind Aaron said, “Monitoring in Progress.” 

As if seeing this in person isn’t enough, we were also on the monitor screen!

So I paid for his gum, walked back to the Halloween shelf with Aaron, and together we also looked at all the varieties of spider skeletons, dinosaur skeletons, bird skeletons, and on and on…with lots of laughter mixed in!

Speaking of “mentioning it,” Aaron told Gary all about it and our next door neighbor and the boys across the street.  He talked and talked about it during the evening. 

Aaron thinks it’s ok for him to keep “mentioning it,” whatever “it” is at the moment.  Over and over and over and over, until Gary and I have glazed eyes and tired ears. 

But have I mentioned that Aaron sure can make us laugh and sure can make us see a side of life that we would otherwise miss?

THAT is worth mentioning over and over and over and over.

P.S.  By the way, the phrase “gone country” occurs 21 times in Alan Jackson’s song.  I know because I came home, looked it up, and counted it. 

You’re welcome, Aaron.     

Or should I say, “Thank you, Aaron!”  😊

 

 

Feeling The Lines

Aaron walked into the kitchen the other night and my eyes were drawn to his feet.  Why?  Because this is what I saw.

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I poked Gary with my hand and motioned for him to look, and then we both stifled our laughter.

“Aaron?” I asked.  “Why are you wearing your slipper socks that way?”

“Because I get tired of feeling the lines,” he answered, matter-of-factly.

Who cares about the safety factor of non-skid lines NOT being on the bottom of your feet where they belong, right?  Comfort was most important to Aaron, as it always is…not safety, and certainly not style.

Comfort in areas other than clothing is also very necessary to Aaron.  However, these “other” areas are sometimes a mystery to us.  Or they are areas in which we know Aaron struggles because of his autism but are also situations over which we have no control.  And, I might add, over which Aaron has no control.  No matter how much we wish he did, or think he certainly could or should, he just doesn’t have the ability to corral his emotions and frustrations like a typical person does.

Here’s an example:  Aaron and I were recently in Longhorn Steakhouse for lunch before one of his doctor appointments.  There was a table near us where several businessmen sat.  They were having a normal conversation, but one of the men in particular was rather loud.  When his animated voice was combined with the normal give and take of the other men, their voices at times overtook our area.

I saw Aaron’s eyes dart over to their table several times.  Soon I knew that Aaron was bothered by the sound of their talking, especially the louder man.  They would talk, and laugh, and talk and laugh some more.  Finally, Aaron was downright staring at them, so I told him to stop doing that.

“Why do I need to stop?” he asked.

“Because you need to mind your own business,” I told him.

“How can I mind my own business?!” he impatiently answered.  “They’re talking and laughing!  I can’t stand it!!”

I was proud of Aaron for verbalizing his feelings to me.  I was also nervous that he would tell those men to be quiet, as he has done in other situations.  But he didn’t do that, thankfully, and I was able to keep him engaged in our own conversation about movies and aliens and other subjects that were far more valuable to him than all that silly, loud business talk!

Sometimes the slightest nuances can trigger Aaron.  Sometimes what triggered him yesterday might not trigger him today.  Or what upset him today is something that he laughed at yesterday.  We just never totally know or can predict with accuracy when his anger will erupt…or simmer.

This is one of the very most difficult parental aspects of raising a child…or having an adult…with the behavior issues associated with autism.  And even when you have had smooth sailing for a while, a storm can always be on the near horizon.

Another example:  Last week Aaron got out of bed and came into the kitchen.  I don’t remember what I said or did, but I think I told him good morning and I said it with a face that was a little more alert and happy than Aaron wanted at that moment.

He looked at me with bleary eyes, no expression at all, and then flatly said, “I wanted a normal face.”

And I knew, as well as I knew that the sun was shining outside, that Aaron was very irritated.  I mean, it was really pretty funny that he wanted a “normal face.”  But I know him well and I knew that if I laughed then I would be in for a very rough morning.

So I just turned away…and therefore he couldn’t see my rolling eyes and my smile…and I made no comment.  Sometimes silence…my silence…is definitely golden.

But my silence was also to him, at that moment, a cause for further frustration.

“How about if I tell Sarah about your face?!” he said with challenge in his voice.

Sarah is one of the staff at his day group.  Aaron thought that I would not like him to tell Sarah about my abnormal morning face.

Oh, Aaron!  Here we go, I thought.  So I poured his coffee and escaped to my shower, door closed on both Aaron and his unpredictable anger.  Thankfully, by the time I was ready to go a while later, he was over his mad spell and all was well.  Plus, I don’t think Sarah ever knew about my weird face…but if she did, I’m sure she smiled behind Aaron’s back as well.

My friend, Wendy, texted me yesterday about her particularly rough time with their Elijah the night before.  She went to see a play that her other children were in.

“I thought I had my props ready, the stage set, E primed and ready for our outing…but oh, no.  It couldn’t be that easy.”

She went on to tell me that he wanted to take his hot chips and his balls into the theater, how he ran in front of a car, how he sat and very loudly crunched his chips, and how humiliated she was.

How I wanted to hug my friend!!  How well I understand how she felt!!

We have had those terribly embarrassing and difficult moments with Aaron over the years.  In fact, when Aaron attended the day school here for special needs students, we got a phone call one night from his amazing teacher.  Mr. Z told us that Aaron had won the Student of the Week award for best exemplifying the classes’ word of the week, which I believe was “patience.”  He told us that Aaron would receive the award the next day, and that he just wanted us to know about it before it happened.

Gary and I were amazed and thrilled!!!  I felt like Aaron had won a Nobel prize!!  I hurried down to the family room to tell Andrea and Andrew.

“Guys!!!” I excitedly started.  “Aaron is winning the Student of the Week award tomorrow!!!  Guess what the word of the week is?!!”

And without skipping even a beat, Andrea answered, “Hateful?”

We laughed and laughed and laughed.  Of course, Aaron wasn’t there to hear any of this.  But really, that was a true question.  Andrea and Andrew had endured many experiences like Wendy described with Elijah.

At times, Aaron and Elijah just cannot stand to “feel the lines.”  None of the rest of us mind the lines at all.  In fact, we don’t even see the lines.  But our boys do…and so do many, many others who struggle with the issues of autism, be it noises or lights or people or social situations or food or any one of dozens of other frustrating cues that only they see and feel.

So, if you’re out somewhere and you see a meltdown happening, and you see a desperate and exhausted parent, and very humiliated siblings – please don’t assume that this eruption is a result of bad parenting.  Don’t assume anything.  Just give a smile, lend a hand if needed or possible, show some understanding instead of judgment, and pray for that family as you walk away.

And know that in that paralyzing moment of public shame, every parent would look at you and say with Aaron:

“I just wanted a normal face.”

 

 

 

 

Long Time and Long Day

My goodness!  It’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything new on here that I had to look back at my last blog to refresh my memory.  I haven’t been able to write about life because of life being hectic and so busy.  When I don’t write for awhile, I feel like I’m covered up with things that I want to talk about.  There are too many happenings to share coherently.  So I hope I will just pull back, focus, and be as brief as possible (since WHEN??!!).

Let me say here that I do write more snippets of life with Aaron on my HeSaidWhat Facebook page.  (https://www.facebook.com/hesaidwhat84/).  You might want to check that out, like it, and follow along.

Now, where was I?  LIFE!

Gary and I did make it to Houston after our crazy few days with Aaron’s seizure injuries, written about in my last blog.  Poor guy!  The morning we left, before Casady (awesome friend!) came over to stay with Aaron, Aaron got out of bed and had blood on his face and pillow.  It was more of a pink blood, but still I was worried about his tooth extraction site.  All was well, though, and he did fine while we were gone.  He only had one seizure during his sleep while Casady was here.

We enjoyed being with our kids in Houston, so much!!  Time with Andrea and her fiancé, Kyle…and our son, Andrew…was great!  It’s always too short, but we’re thankful for every minute.

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It was wonderful to spend time with Kyle before he had to go back out to sea.  Sweet to do a little more wedding planning with Andrea, and to hear about her genetics lab that she manages and of the exciting new project that will soon launch under her leadership.

And it was loud and fast and fun to be at Royal Purple Raceway for the NHRA race that weekend, where Andrew is working now for Leah Pritchett and Don Schumacher Racing.

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We got to take Kyle’s mother, Marie, with us on Sunday and introduce her to this sport that you have to see and HEAR and feel in order to fully appreciate.

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Side note:  Leah was the #1 qualifier that weekend and broke a track speed record!!  And this past weekend, in Atlanta, she and the team took home the Wally!  That means they won the race, for those of you who were like me a few years ago and have no earthly idea what a Wally is!

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Even Aaron, who used to be very jealous of Andrew and who bad-mouthed racing, has become a huge fan.  This past Friday, I picked Aaron up at the theater after his group had watched a movie.  It went like this:

 

Me: Did you like the movie?

Aaron: Not really.

Me: Why not?

Aaron: Well, it was about a volleyball game.

Me: Oh, I love sports movies! Why didn’t you like it?

Aaron: I don’t like volleyball. I only like drag car racing.

 

We never thought we’d see the day!

So Aaron has had a few more falling seizures since our return from Houston.  He scraped his neck on the edge of his desk.

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He fell the following morning as we headed out the door, but I was able to somewhat break his fall, thank the Lord!  Our unfinished floor would have been brutal for landing!  He did bend his glasses but that’s no big deal.  Then he had another seizure that night but was sitting, which was a blessing.

I think I’ve figured out a pattern for these seizures, somewhat.  I changed Aaron’s appointment to his Epileptologist in order for him to be seen sooner.  Gary and I have decided to try CBD oil, and our doctor agreed to that plan.  It arrived today and I’m anxious for Aaron to give it a go…and praying that it will help his seizures, and aid in other ways as well.  Aaron has lost lots of weight and has been over drugged, big time, so we really weren’t wanting to go back to adding more meds.  We have lowered his seizure drugs and are hoping we can stay there.  I was reminded this morning as we drove to his day group about how very tired these drugs make him.

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Scenes like that tug at my heart.  I so desire for Aaron to live as normal a life as possible…to feel alert and strong…to be happy.  Many things beyond his control so often prevent that from happening for him.  Seizures…autism…behaviors – all of it can make his life challenging.  One minute he has me laughing…then he has me crying…later I want to throttle him.  So it went on Tuesday.

Our van was in the shop for new tires and some other necessary work.  I couldn’t take Aaron to Paradigm, his day group.  He was quite happy about that, for no matter how much he loves Paradigm and his friends there, he thinks that staying at home is the absolute BEST!  Here is what I wrote on my Facebook page about one of our morning encounters that day.

 

Aaron is staying home today because our van is in the shop for new tires and a check-up. Therefore, I can’t drive Aaron to Paradigm.

Therefore, Aaron is following me around as he talks…and talks…and talks.

Therefore, I have already told Aaron several times that he needs to go find something to do.

It is only 8:37.

Aaron found something to do. He is watching Falling Skies, so he hurried downstairs to tell me that the Queen Skitter Alien is big. Why is she big? Why is she the Queen? Why is there not a King?

Therefore, we discussed Queen Ants and Queen Bees, including their size, which is large. Huge, even, according to Aaron.

There ARE times that Aaron does connect the dots. Usually in ways that are unwanted.

Therefore, Aaron just barged down the stairs with this tidbit:

“Mom!! You’re the Queen, because you’re HUGE!!”

Therefore, I gave Aaron my best stink-eye stare, which he finds quite funny.

Therefore, it’s gonna be a LOOOONG day!!!!!

 

I had no idea when I wrote that about WHAT a long day it was going to be.  Aaron was first funny…

And then Aaron pulled at my heart.  I was outside watering and weeding some, and Aaron decided to “play in the mulch,” as he calls it.  He has always, since he was a little boy, enjoyed breaking sticks and leaves and mulch into tiny pieces, and watching it fall into his trash can.  It’s a very autistic behavior which relaxes and calms and focuses him.  But there is something about it, especially now that he’s an adult, that just touches my heart for him.

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He also decided to lay back on the sidewalk for a minute, and I wondered what neighbors or passersby may have thought if they saw him.  I often wonder that when it comes to Aaron, actually.

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Later came the frustration.  GREAT frustration!

Aaron was not having as much fun staying at home as he thought he would.  He was at loose ends, seemingly bored though constantly denying it, and was continually following me around the house…talking and talking and talking.  I had lots to do and we had no way to go anywhere, except to take our Jackson for a lingering walk around the yard, so Aaron was trapped.

I was trapped!!  In desperation I threw out a life line.  I know better than to do what I did, but I did it anyway.  I told Aaron that when Dad got home from work, we would go to the shop and pick up the van.

What was I thinking??!!  I know not to tell Aaron that something is going to definitely occur…or sometimes to even tell him that it MIGHT occur…because if it doesn’t, then Katie bar the door!!  And I know not to tell him far ahead of time, because the event then becomes his major focus.  I think he had sucked all the oxygen out of the room and I was light-headed.  Not thinking clearly, you know.

Aaron wanted Dad to come home, way before it was time for Gary to be home.  He asked and asked and asked when we were leaving.  I watched the change coming over Aaron with each time he asked that same question, over and over and over.  His focus had narrowed to that one upcoming event, and he wanted it to happen NOW.

When Aaron is like this, his mood becomes angry and impatient.  He wants what he wants, immediately, not later.  It’s totally impossible to veer him from the one thing upon which he is, at this point, obsessing about.

The more I said, the angrier Aaron became.  He was rude and belligerent.  I was tired and frustrated.  I walked away from Aaron several times before saying something that I knew I would regret.  Funny Aaron was now fuming Aaron.

It truly is amazing to see how his mind works at times like this, though I would rather not.  We’ve often said that at these times, Aaron is like a train on a track and there is no derailing him.  A milkshake might have done the trick, but that wasn’t an option.  It was a long late afternoon.

Then Gary got home, unaware of the tension in the house.  His phone rang right away and I listened as he was being told that the van wouldn’t be ready until the next morning.  AAAAHHHHH!!!!

But Aaron was spent, I guess, and with a new person in the house to talk to, he cheered up dramatically.  Gary is amazing, coming home from a demanding job and then dealing with the demands of Aaron.  Aaron was content to later watch some television with me, and then play a game of Skip-Bo…which he won, happily!

Recently, a friend sent Aaron some money for him to use in whatever way he wanted.  As we strolled through Wal-Mart, Aaron found this:

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Aaron flashes the peace sign all the time, so this figurine was perfect for him.  He wanted it right away, so some of Bill’s gift was used for this gift for Aaron.  It’s a perfect fit!

And it’s a perfect reminder to me that peace always returns after the rough spells – both peace in our home and peace in my heart.  That’s because I know the God Who made Aaron.  I know Him personally and He guides my every step, orchestrating each day.

God’s peace is only one of His many gifts to me.

Aaron is another one…another of God’s gifts.  I need to remind myself of that fact at times.

Actually, God has many ways of doing just that in my life…of reminding and refreshing me.

And for that…and for Aaron…I am grateful.

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All Aaron!

I heard Aaron through the baby monitor early this morning.  He wasn’t having a seizure but instead was making the unmistakable sounds of getting out of bed for more than just a trip to the bathroom.  When he turns his lamp on and moves his stuff out of his desk chair…his two back scratchers and his hand towel – always, always in his desk chair…then I know that he is getting up for the day. 

UGH!!!  I knew it was way, way too early for him to be awake for the day because I had just rolled over, unable to sleep myself, and saw that it was 4:00 a.m.  I turned the monitor off, tried to sleep but couldn’t, and later just got up and began my day. 

I was sitting at my quiet time desk, Bible and study book open, when in walked Aaron.  Another UGH!  And I don’t mean to sound mean.  It’s just that Aaron will not leave me alone if he is up and about in the early morning.  Without even looking at him, I said, “Aaron, do NOT come in here right now.  It’s too early.”

Total quietness.

So I turned my chair around and there stood Aaron, some videos in hand, slightly smiling.  He looked very chipper and very fully awake, and very happy.  Much happier than Mom.  But I had to smile, too, at the cute look on his face.

“Mom, I got out of bed…” he began.

“Don’t even go there,” I said.  “I know you were up at 4:00.”

“4:11,” he flatly replied.

I had to belly laugh at that.  His precision is always so funny, even before 6:00 in the morning!

We talked and compromised, Aaron saying that he would go back to bed if I would make sure he was awake at 7:30 so that he could say goodbye to Dad before Gary left for work.  Agreed.

I thought about yesterday when Aaron and I ran into Dillon’s before I took him to his day group.  If possible, whenever we are in Dillon’s, Aaron always loves walking up to the fresh seafood and fish display.  He loudly points out the shrimp, lobster, crab legs, and anything else he finds unusual and therefore very interesting.

But yesterday there was a surprise!  Aaron was beyond excited to see two whole fish, Tilapia, laying there on ice. 

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“MOM!!!  LOOK!!” he exclaimed as he pushed his way in front of a little family also standing there.  “He’s ALL fish!!!” 

How I love the way that Aaron expresses himself…well, most of the time!

Gary and I can truly say…He’s ALL Aaron!

Like taking him to Subway over the weekend for a sub.  Subway and Great Clips are two places where, for some reason, his autism just shines.  There in Subway he told the young girl waiting on us all about Dracula since he’s getting ready to watch the old, old Dracula movie.  He asked her if she had seen the movie, did she know where Dracula lived, and how his voice “sounds like England.” 

I kept re-directing him to think of his sub and not Dracula, so he told the girl that he wanted the bread with the black dots on it.  I had told him the correct name since this bread is new to him, but he couldn’t remember that.  She looked confused, I tried to interpret, but Aaron by then was already asking her if she could show him a picture.  And on we went from there until finally we had the sub with black dots in hand and safely exited. 

Later, as he ate his black dotted sub, I asked him if he liked that new bread.

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“I like it!” he answered.  “It tastes weird.”

That’s Aaron…ALL Aaron!

His take on food is so interesting and funny.  Last night he was eating peanuts.  He is often fascinated, over and over, by the outer skin he sometimes finds. 

“I’m afraid to eat those outering parts of the peanuts,” he told me. 

And orange juice pulp – “This orange juice looks like it has worms in it!”

There he goes…ALL Aaron!

Today describing his observation at Great Clips – “You know what I noticed they do to those women?  They take them to that water place and put their HEAD in it!!” 

YIKES!!

All Aaron again!

I could go on and on sharing many insightful, funny, amazing, and embarrassing comments from Aaron.  I have tons, trust me!  So why do I share?  To make you laugh?  Cry?  Scratch your head…like we often do? 

It’s like this not-too-great picture I took of Aaron awhile back.  We had just gotten home after I picked him up from his day group.  Aaron LOVES to share with his friends, so on our drive home he was already asking about what goodies he could take the next day to share with Natalie, or Simone, or Heather, or….

He didn’t even take his coat off, but just sat down on the floor in front of the cabinet, pulled out the snack drawer, and went to work searching for his next treat to share.

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In much the same way, I want to share with all of you what a unique young man our special Aaron is.  There are so many varied parts to Aaron.  Some parts I love to share, and others I may want to hide, but they all make up who our son is. 

Autism is not the end of the world, honestly. 

Instead, it can be the beginning of another world…a quite amazing journey.

And so I want to say to each of you –

“LOOK!!  He’s ALL Aaron!”

 

What Time Is It??!!

So today I have another Chicago song rumbling around in my brain.  A couple weeks ago it was the song “Color My World” that I wrote about.

But today…today it’s the song, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”

The chorus begins:

Does anybody really know what time it is?

            Does anybody really care?

Stop right there!!

Yes, somebody cares!!!

AARON CARES!!!

For anybody new to my blog, Aaron is our amazing adult son with autism.  And keeping the correct time is of paramount importance to him.  I mean, look at his log book that he keeps with his time to go to bed at night and the time he gets out of bed in the morning.

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And many of you still chuckle with me when I share conversations similar to this:

Aaron:  “Mom!  I woke up early this morning!  Guess what time I got up?”

Me:  “You got up at 7:00.”

Aaron:  “No!!  I got up at 6:58!!”

Aaron loves keeping his eye on the time, the PRECISE time!  Therefore, this change yesterday to Daylight Savings Time caused a huge bump in his road of exact time keeping.

And that’s why I waited until he and I were driving to Sam’s Club in the early afternoon to even casually broach the subject of another time change.  He listened and then didn’t have much response, but I’ve learned not to be fooled by his silence.  He was pondering this unwelcome news with each ticking second of his wristwatch…his wristwatch pushed way up his arm, always, for those of you who may not know that little fact.

His Sam’s food treasures kept him from dwelling too much on the time issue.  Pineapple slices…cheese cubes…dry roasted peanuts with sea salt (Aaron likes using their full description!) (and talking about what dry roasted means until Gary and I are sick of the topic of dry roasted peanuts with sea salt!)…strawberries…orange juice…and dog jerky for our big Great Dane, Jackson.

Once home and all unloaded, Aaron went out with me to the front yard.  He kindly picked up branches that had fallen in our last wind storm.  We praised him for his helpfulness, and how he was allowing Dad more time to work on our bathroom remodel.  Or as Aaron puts it – “tearing the bathroom.”  He was very proud of his job well done.

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And then it hit him.  The afternoon was moving right along.  We were going to watch our West Virginia team play Kansas at 5:00.  Aaron asked about what time the game started, which reminded him of that time issue discussed earlier, and the countdown began.

“Mom?  When do we change the time?”

“We’ll just change the clocks when we go to bed, like we always do,” I told him.

This question was asked in one form or another several times during the evening.  Then it got complicated.

It was 8:30ish when we finished watching a program.  “Maybe I should go on to bed,” Aaron said.  I suggested that we watch one more thing, and then he could call it a night.

“But when does the time change?” he asked again.

“Well, technically it changes during the night when we’re asleep, but we’ll set the clocks ahead when we go to bed,” I replied.

He was satisfied with that.  We watched one more NCIS and then it was definitely time to hit the sack.  Aaron ran down the stairs to say goodnight to Gary, remembering to have Dad change the time on his wristwatch.  We got all the bedtime routine taken care of, with Aaron pushing up his sleeve every minute or two to check the ever important time on his watch.  His eyes were darting, though, to the time on his satellite weather station.  We had told him that the time there would change automatically during the night.

Finally, he pushed up his pajama shirt sleeve, stuck his arm out for me to see, and said, “Mom, look.  It’s this time on me.”

He was struggling with having one time on his watch and another time on his weather station.  Nothing I said was helping much.

Then…THEN…the inevitable happened.  It was time for Aaron to write down his time to bed in his log book…and the time on his weather station did NOT jive with the time on his watch.

What to do??!!!

He wrote down the time displayed on the weather station.  I said goodnight.  I should have known it was not over.

Nine minutes after he went to bed, I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the hallway.  Soon there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Mom?” he asked.  “Is it really 9:47?”

“Yes, Aaron, but during the night it will change while you’re sleeping.  Now go on to bed and don’t worry about it.”

Off he went.  I think it was 9:48.

I was starting to breathe easy, but I shouldn’t have.

More footsteps.  Another knock.

“Mom?  Is it really 10:03?”

Bless his heart.  These things are so, so urgent and of such great importance to him.  I dare not dismiss them or shrug them off or make him feel like he’s ridiculous to be so tied up in the stress of what time it really is.  Gary and I know to explain over and over, if needed…and it almost always is.  Small price to pay, really, for Aaron’s peace of mind and for ours.

All was well today.  Aaron was super excited to eat lunch at Carlos O’Kelly’s, so it appeared that all the time issues had been laid to rest last night, at the same time that Aaron finally decided to rest.

I think it was 4:43 when we were all walking in from the garage…and Aaron spied the time on the garage door opener.

“Dad!  It says 3:43!!”

And in no more than a couple seconds, maybe three, Gary had gotten that garage door opener in sync with Aaron’s watch, Aaron’s weather station, the microwave that Aaron had just watched me change, the oven, the radio…

So…

Does anybody really know what time it is?

            Does anybody really care?

Silly song!!