The Holidays are Here. . .Already?

As I drove down my street tonight, greeting me the entire way were row upon row of Christmas lights. Practically every house was decked with bright colors or all white, holly wreaths, sparkly snowflakes dangling from tree branches, eaves dripping with electric icicles, shrubs sprinkled in elf magic, and walkway borders twinkling. Yes, FATHER CHRISTMAS and GENERAL ELECTRIC have PUKED ON MY STREET! Now I must add one more item to my list of things to be thankful for: THEY MISSED MY HOUSE!

Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays. I even enjoy decorating for the holidays. And I really get a kick out of driving around town looking at other people's Christmas lights on Christmas Eve. BUT IT'S NOVEMBER PEOPLE!!! It's a holi-DAY, not a holi-MONTH!

In case you are unfamiliar with Aspie life and the holidays, let me enlighten you. Patience is not a virtue generously bestowed upon my son or any of his like-minded cohorts on the autism spectrum. He has improved somewhat in this area, but not much. When he wants something, he must have it 10 minutes ago. Until he gets what he desires, he will ask me repeatedly and ad nauseam to get it for him. It is for this reason I rarely tell him about exciting things that are going to happen very far in advance. The more desirable it is, the less notice he is given. I learned this lesson the hard way.

Last year was our first Christmas in our new home. I wanted it to be a blast for the kids. We bought an enormous tree that reached almost to the top of the stairs on the second floor. It has 1,200 white lights on it and is a glorious sight. We put the tree up the weekend of Thanksgiving to make the most of the wonderful season.

As soon as the last ornament was hung on the tree and the lights came on, Ian started asking, "Is it Christmas yet?" He asked it 12 times that night. Then again 72 times the next day, only 43 the following day. . .you get the idea. He continued in this manner until Christmas Eve. By then I had given myself brain damage from all the head banging I was doing on the wall. On the plus side, I invented a new kind of faux finish.

We're not doing that again this year. Two weeks of it is all I am willing to tolerate. Ian is going to get his very own countdown-to-Christmas calendar this Friday so he won't have to ask the question every day. The anticipation is just too stressful, especially for Aspie's, who really aren't fond of the unpredictability of the holiday season.

And to all of you who have elected to start your holiday 30 days early, be forewarned. Santa's elves have been known to sneak out at night and place unsuspecting Christmas yard art in sexually explicit positions. Just thought I'd let you know.

Fences

I have been doing a lot of painting over the last few weeks. The more I paint, the more I want to paint. It's an addiction. At least it keeps my hands occupied and out of the M&M bag in the pantry.

A friend who was looking at my collection of unframed watercolors noticed that I paint a lot of fences. He was right. I had no idea this was a common theme developing in my artwork. I thought I had been painting mountains, trees, and lakes. He saw fences. Interesting.

Curiosity led me to Google to discover the symbolism for fences. One source said that in West African tradition, a fence is the "symbol of love, safety and security. The home to the Akan is a special place. A home which has a fence around it is considered to be an ideal residence. The fence symbolically separates and secures the family from the outside. Because of the security and the protection that a fence affords, the symbol is also associated with the security and safety one finds in love. -- from The Adinkra Dictionary"

In dream interpretation, a fence is seen as a boundary in a relationship, an obstacle, or choice.

So, here are some options to consider. Am I painting fences because I feel loved, safe, and secure? Do I seek to shield my family from the rest of the world out of fear they will not understand my autistic child? Or, is there a barrier in one of my relationships? Is there a decision I am avoiding? Because the fence in the picture above is broken, has there been a breach in my feeling of security or in my relationship with someone? Aha...I can see Freud rubbing his chin at that one.


How about this one:


The gate stands alone before a wilderness path. Am I the gate? Does the path represent the tangled confusion of autism. Or am I traveling along the path and the gate is the answer to all of my questions? OooooooWEEEE! It's getting deep in here!

How about this last one - the Appalachian Grist Mill:


Here the fence could be intended to contain something, rather to suppress/oppress/compress the freedom of some poor creature. Perhaps I feel trapped in my current situation, and my only means of escape is to throw myself over the fence, roll down the embankment and into the water. But then, what does the water signify? Hmmmmmm?

Here is a possibility - fences are easy to paint and offer an unusual and interesting focal point for a picture. I like this explanation the best. No psycho-babble. Just the reality that when it comes right down to it, I am a lazy painter who likes to take the easy way out and paint things I am familiar with. So there.

My List of Thanksgiving

It is a beautiful, sunny day. Three generations of my family are together. We have eaten well. The kids are playing quietly in the backyard. Some adults are napping. And I am reflecting on what makes me thankful.

I am thankful for my family's health.

I am thankful that we all get along.

I am thankful that my parents raised me to be open minded and accepting of people and things that are different from the norm. In fact, they encouraged me to be unique - whenever it was socially acceptable.

I am thankful my children love me, even though I have to lay down the law more often than I would like to. Every night, they still want me to snuggle with them as they drift off to sleep. It is my embrace that relaxes them brings them comfort. I am grateful for that special bond.

I am thankful for friends who understand that our family is different. They may not be able to comprehend what our life with autism is like, but their acceptance and support mean the world to me.

I am thankful my husband has a good sense of humor.

I am thankful that Ian finds the inner strength to make progress every day.

I am thankful for Ainsley for bringing joy to our world.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Driving in Neutral

We're just coasting along right now. Not much excitement, just working through each day like a normal family...I think. Since I no longer know what normal is, I assume this is it, or as close to it as we'll get for now.

Every morning we go through the routine of getting the kids up, fed, and dressed. Then it's off to school for Ian. We do our thing during the day. Lately, this means Steve sits at the desk all day working instead of going to the office. He enjoys working from home when he has a lot to get done because he gains at least 3 hours of productivity by not traveling into the office. The down side for me is that he HOGS THE OFFICE AND I DON'T GET TO BLOG!!! Priorities, people! Ah, well, the alternative during busy time is that we never see him, so I'll take the present situation.

Ian returns from school in the afternoon. We have the customary argument/"loud discussion" about homework. Some negotiating takes place. Most of it is completed between breaks that include bug watching and computer games. The writing assignment almost always is delayed until breakfast the next morning. It is becoming so predictable, I often feel I am just repeating the same day over and over.

This past weekend was very special. Ian turned 7. It was a constant celebration from Thursday, when I kissed him good-night and remembered the night I went into labor, to Sunday when he sighed and told me how great his weekend had been. This year the party wasn't overwhelming, as many previous ones had been. He seemed delighted by the attention he received. He was even a gracious host, thanking his buddies for coming as he gave each their goodie bag. He was outgoing and humorous.

Because his best friend had been sick the day of his birthday, we had Jack and his sister over for a private party on Sunday. Jack's mother told me in advance what the gift was - an ant farm. Ian would love it because it was from Jack, but I was not certain he would be able to let Jack know this without also telling him his parents had given him one too. Before Jack arrived we practiced what he would say "if" Jack, who knows Ian so well, were to give him something he had already received. Right on cue, Ian said just the right thing to let his truest friend know the gift was perfect. And, honestly, Jack's ant farm was much better than the one he received from us. How could it not be? The box was HUGE! It even came with a mail-in certificate for free ants. With ours, he has to dig up his own in the back yard, which pretty much guarantees he'll get fire ants.

This morning he did what any other 7 year-old would do who had received a dinosaur dig for his birthday...break it out on the kitchen table before breakfast and start excavating. Sand and gravel everywhere. On the floor. On the table. In the milk. Stuck to the bacon. In the pancake syrup.

Yep. Life is normal at our house. Sure feels nice.

It's Quiet....Something Must Be Wrong

It has been relatively quiet at our house lately. Or, perhaps, my slight hearing loss has become total, and I am just unaware of the chaos around me. Since I can still here dishes being clanked in the kitchen, I'll assume it is calm for now.

Ian has settled into reading mode for the day. In fact, when he is not outside looking for bugs, he is inside reading a library book, a catalog, the comics, or a Calvin and Hobbes anthology. Occasionally, he plays computer games or builds a new Lego robot of some sort. He has become my sedate child, the contemplative one. When he is not engrossed in one of these quiet activities, he and Ainsley are teaching Bionicles how to climb the window blinds, which strangely requires every light in the house to be on.

How did we get here? I feel like I am on another planet or that something terrible is about to happen. Something thunderously loud, like an airplane crashing into the house. Has autism trained me to expect catastrophes? I guess the only thing that surprises me these days is when what everyone else considers to be normal occurs in my home.

I wish I could say there was a single magic bullet that brought us to this point; but I know that is not the case. For starters, Ian spends 7 hours a day, 5 days a week with an excellent educational team who constantly help him with his scholastic and social material. Then there is the psychologist who meets with him every week to work on the really difficult interpersonal stuff - understanding emotions and other people's intentions, appropriate behavior, and connecting with other people. He has not mastered any of this, but he is trying.

We may even have his medications close to being well-balanced. The psychiatrist put him on a drug that has been shown in studies to help with many of the social symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome. I believe it is beginning to help a little. Although we have not seen a consistent improvement, I am hopeful that he will learn the skills necessary for successful social interaction so he can achieve the things he will one day want professionally and personally. It's all about making progress, even though it may be slow.

This drug may not be right for him. I won't know for a while longer. Fortunately, I have learned to trust my instincts. They are rarely wrong. My gut will tell me when it's time for a change. Hopefully, Ian will one day be able to tell me, too. For now, I am going to enjoy the peace, do a little more painting, and try not to think about the crash that may be in our future.

Another Milestone Passed

This time, the milestone was mine. I turned 40 yesterday. It's a good 40. I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to. There have been little changes in me over the last few years, most of them good. For me, the most profound one has been how mellow I have become about things that used to bother me to the point of madness. For example:

-- I no longer care if my children throw things over the side of the catwalk that connects their bedrooms to the play room, as long as said items weigh less than a pound and are not living or liquid.

-- It is not required that everyone in the house be up and dressed by 9:00 a.m., even on weekends. Clothing is highly overrated. Soft pj's rule!

-- Ian does not have to finish his homework if he doesn't want to. I won't force him to complete an assignment; but he must take responsibility for that decision and suffer the consequences of it.

-- Some days there is no time to fold all the laundry and get everything picked up before company comes. That's why some brilliant person invented deep plastic baskets and closets with doors that close.

-- My body is far from perfect, and that's o.k. Over 4 decades it has carried me through some amazing adventures. With a little chromosomal help from my husband, it created, nurtured, and housed two wonderful human beings for close to 19 months. It was transformed by motherhood in a way that no airbrush can improve upon and is beautiful based on a natural standard.

-- When my kids asked if they could have birthday cake for breakfast this morning, I happily gave them each a small piece of delicious Italian Cream Cake on a birthday paper plate. They devoured it and were thrilled at the novelty of eating it in the formal dining room. It's been a lovely day ever since.

I guess what I am saying is I have finally recognized that sweating the small stuff makes you miss the great things that go on around you. If it took turning 40 to help me get there, then I have to say it was well worth the ride. Now it's time to start cruising. Anyone else care to come along?