feet?

creeping feet

MrD has been growing, fast.  I noticed among the grade 7 boys, the taller ones did something unusual with their feet.  They would reach out with their foot to touch something or someone, almost affectionately, for lack of a better word.  When I think of it, its creepy, who wants someone else's nasty creeping feet touching them?  It seems to be some indirect way of making contact, or possibly just bugging.  I've been noticing that MrD has less of a need to "hang" from monkey bars and goal posts.  That's possibly because its winter, and grade 8 highschool does not have playgrounds like the elementary schools do.  Now he's all about stretching, really stretching, complete with pathetic drawn out horrible noises.  If he's not stretching, he's flopped out upside down on the recliner or sitting on his bean-bag chair intently touching the blinds or walls.

Another fun observation lately is the obvious.  If I ask MrD to go get something familiar on the counter among 6-15 other items, it can be right under his nose & he can't find it.  Strange but true.  A conversation with another Mom who's son is all grown up mentioned pointing.  Its common to point at something in the distance as a conversation reference.  Something in the spacial cue and vagueness makes it impossible to pinpoint what is being pointed at, therefore, meltdown is imminent.  Reflecting on this conversation I recalled a similar event.  Driving MrD downtown, I noticed up along the upper skyline was a blinking orange light moving along the hill.  It was likely snow removal equipment or a tow truck.  I asked MrD if he saw it and he did not.  He proceeded to get very upset by something that was directly ahead in both our line of vision. He really & truely could not see it and demanded repeatedly where is it, to show him, louder and louder.  I know his vision is excellent by how he brags of playing "punch-buggy" with his bioDad and frustrating because he wins a lot more points.  It's just interesting observations for a child who is so detail oriented to miss something right in front of him.

Another day, day by day, every day

When MrD was small he was very tiring.  Every day was like the movie “Groundhogs Day” with Bill Murray.  It took forever for him to integrate basic every day things.  I understood then that that is how a child learns, with repetition, familiarity, and deviations from the expected.  It makes sense that every day is a clean slate to repeat pretty much everything.  From the endless toys and messes, to the repetitive noises, tantrums, trials & tribulations of potty training, basic manners…  That didn’t change the sheer exhaustion I felt from having to wield patience like a shield.  I’m human, at times I just wanted to scream or shake him to “C’mon, get on with it already!!!”  I didn’t, I couldn’t treat this precious little soul to such cruelty.  His bio-Dad is another story. I’ve mentioned about sharing MrD’s time with his father, there’s an old legal document in place and scheduled time reflects that bio-Dad has the right to spend time with his son.  There is a complex background story in play and very good reasons why we split up.  I will try not to get into details that would slag MrD’s father as that would be disrespectful to MrD as well. 

The short version is that I could not raise MrD in that environment based on how bio-Dad was treating me.  Bio-Dad is not perfect, and neither am I.  My fear ever since we split has been that MrD will absorb his father’s communication strategies and possibly suffer because of them.  Now that MrD is a full blown teenager, some of bio-Dad’s less stellar qualities are filtering through.   Before we split, bio-Dad would have flare temper episodes, often because he couldn’t seem to have his way.  As long as there was agreement, then I could do as I pleased & just not tell him.  Not exactly couple healthy, but when in an unbalanced environment, I was striving to survive.  Bio-Dad would get into a rage at me for being so exhausted that I wasn’t doing anything at home other than the minimum of looking after our son, the minimum of my own self care and a daily walk with our son.  That meant the dishes, vacuuming, laundry, and general cleaning would back up.  Those are pretty normal things to leave when a new Mom doesn’t have any help.  When I got some energy built up, instead of resting, I would dig out the biggest messes.  Of course, that would deplete my energy stores so I would be into zombie mode the rest of the time.  Most people know or are familiar with zombie mode, it’s a slow autopilot that looks like depression.  I very likely was in post-partum depression but was too exhausted to deal with it.  Bio-Dad would flare into rages at me with ruthless name calling and try to push me around.  When the storm cleared, he would sometimes apologize.  At one point he admitted he was trying to shake me awake because he couldn’t stand seeing me being so useless.  He grew up where both his parents worked, a lot, and he never saw his parents in any prolonged health crisis state.  He had no concept that I am not the same as them, that I am my own person.  When someone is in a wheelchair, it is unfathomable to yank the chair out from under them and scream at them to get up & walk & stop being so lazy.  It wouldn’t occur to him to rip away someone’s cane, or to kick crutches away from one with a broken leg.  Post-partum depression is invisible; the person more or less looks fine to an average observer.  Autism is mostly invisible too.

When I think back on these moments, all I can think is that each stage was preparing me for the next.  Being pregnant prepares the mother for frequent bathroom trips, broken sleep, and chronic fatigue that a brand new baby brings.  Screaming colic episodes prepare for the endurance needed to white knuckle through really tough situations.  Repetitive days of a toddler prepare for the breaks in memory that an autistic teenager is surprised with, every day skills that are necessary for independent living.  Planning a daily outing with a small child after all physical needs are met builds a feeling of happiness and familiarity to everyday experiences that life isn’t scary or overwhelming.  Bio-Dad taught me that I don’t have to go by others rules, I need to run my life by my rules, my way while allowing respect and wiggle room for another’s perspective.  If Bio-Dad freaked out on me for being in zombie-mode, MrD has been treating me to similar cries for attention when I am depleted.  This has been the blessing of blogging, allowing me reflection and growth as a Mom and a person.  This is a really good reminder to myself to set the expectation that I will be respected and treated with care when I am occasionally unwell from sleep deprivation or illness.  Every day I am thankful for the love and care of my family & friends for helping me to pull through. 

Setting expectations

I think one of the most important aspects of raising a child with Auspergers autism is expectations.  Specifically, being aware of my expectations and being prepared to revise them.  I get bogged down with the everyday trivial crap, the backtalk, tantrums, delaying, dawdling etc etc.  I have every expectation that MrD will be able to drive a car, to graduate high school, to have a meaningful job or career, and to have an independent life.  He is smart and capable and once in awhile I get these blessed reminders.  I just finished a school Integrated Education Plan (IEP) meeting, and there is success being reflected there.  His behaviours are much less frequent and less disruptive than the elementary school reported to the high school.  He’s passing all his classes.  He’s still bouncing around socially, trying to fit in. 

I am so glad to be past the elementary school system.  Children are treated in such a disciplined and narrow way where there is no room to determine independent learning or growth other than as an adult professional tells you.  Educators are limited in the scope of what they can accomplish, but they forget they have training and a toolkit of skills that they don’t always use.  I am only one parent, I influence the home environment.  It drives me crazy to be the one reminding the professionals that THEY are the adults, THEY are the ones that should be able to handle what flies every day.  How is it that a child can do this so routinely, so regularly, and yet be a surprise each and every time.  In a way, is he smarter than the professionals and enjoying running circles around them?  It is no different that when your dog runs away, and then does running fly-bys, enough to collect the food you are offering or a pat & then run away again.  Who is running the show there?  Other students are learning by MrD.  He giggles about the English teacher teaching about how to properly use a colon.  Every time she says the word colon, he giggles.  Soon enough classmates are also giggling too.  Disrespectful?  Yes.  Funny?  Darn tootin’ yes!  He has learned that humor is universal social situation butter, and he figured it out all on his own.  He has dabbled in multiple social experiments of misbehavior over the years.  I think it is amazing that he has graduated to humor.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t understand the same joke every day isn’t funny.  Neither is repeating the same slap-stick physical joke is only a one hit wonder.  Maybe he will be the next Jim Carey?