Sweet Breakthrough

The expression above is why I do what I do. This is the payoff.

So, the kids got to ride the bus home yesterday, because it was the last day of drama camp, and I had a special snack waiting for them when they came in from the bus. G changed into the foundation for his costume, and we walked in the bone-chilling cold--at their insistence--to church.

(I love the fact that both my kids would rather walk than ride whenever possible--they are truly my kids.)

When we get there, managed chaos reigns. Containing both boys until proceedings begin consumes me. I order Nic to stop trying to create a 'Mr Bean' disaster. G unknots the belt to his costume and hands the belt back to me.

I settle G in a pew with the other children and send Nic over to Miss T, who gives him a master script and marching orders. Dress rehearsal is a bit scattered for both kids, but they get through it. I border collie the rest of the 22 kids in the project while the three main leads are trying to do their jobs.

Fortunately, pizza arrives, and I shepherd the kids down to the cafeteria, where Nic declares the chicken nugget, french fry and pizza dinner a 'night to remember.' It doesn't even matter to the boys that they are sitting alone at the end of one table--they are happy to be in the group, happy to be sharing dinner, and for them, these things are enough.

After warm ups, we shepherd the kids back to the church and prepare to put on the show. The good turnout surprised the kids more than anything, I think, because the spotlight--not used in any rehearsals--acted like a bit of a stun gun to a good third of the cast--G included.

BUT, it was a good show, the kids had a great time, and Nic just blew me away as he showed off his crew skills--not just to me, but to every person sitting there in the audience.

I couldn't resist an inward smile. And he did a good job putting together the program, too.

So at the end, when the director included awards and acknowledgments, I was one of the people she called up. And this is what she wrote in the card:

Thank you for attending each week and for guiding Nicolas along with the interviews. You have a beautiful soul and I am happy to have met you.

I can't help but feel that my kids have created an awareness and appreciation for difference in this little community. And last night, I flung myself against one particular pane of glass one last time--and broke it.

I feel a little like Anne Shirley from 'Anne of Green Gables.' I always wanted to be her, and the lesson du jour is that you are never too old to become what you want to be when you grow up.

Adapt or Die

A couple ideas I had this morning converged in this common theme:

• Wondering, for example, why my kids continue to stick out like sore thumbs in the neighborhood, why it’s so hard for the other kids to incorporate them in their games

• Thinking about the pointed remarks from some one whom I ceased contact about studying the ways of neurotypicals very carefully to treacherous ends

Thinking about the way my little one looked at me this am, how he climbed over to be on the empty side of the bed and how he pushed his big brother over to make room for me. The look he gave me was me, probably at about the same age, maybe younger, and it was him too. He snuggled up under my chin and let me curl around him to warm him up.

Love is wanting to be the best person you can be for some one else, and G is just one of those people I want to be my best self for. Nic and hubby are two more. And the list continues from there.

Thinking about adaptation, it occurs to me that the kids in the neighborhood exclude because it is the natural order; there always has to be a them, and heck, I spent the first 18 or 19 years of my life on the outside looking in, so I should know better. Inclusion is not, despite what we like to think, instinctive. It’s easier to shut out and shut down people who are weird and different.

Which leads me to the second point. This same person has accused me (indirectly) of treachery and not being true to myself by adapting to the ways of the larger world. Actually, adaptation is important, because inclusion is not natural. If you want to survive in the larger world, you have to figure out a way to make your differences WORK in that world.

And I like to think that I’ve done just that. And it’s important that I imprint on both my boys the importance of applying their gifts and strengths in ways the larger world is going to see, recognize, and ‘get.’

I see nothing hypocritical in adaptation, particularly if the alternative is marginalization and death (in whatever forms these things take). If the point is surviving and thriving, the means by which to do these things is to find your gifts, and share them, and be amazed at what those who are open to receive will do with what you offer.

When I look back on this year, adaptation looms large. My returning to corporate after a 10+ year absence demanded much of my family, and they all rose splendidly to the occasion. And the larger lesson here is that I truly believe that they—and I—are ready for anything.

We are blessed. And I am humbled by the sheer magnitude of our blessings.

Bean burritos and blessings

Maybe I should call this entry 'Finishing Business,' but I like the other title better; both are equally apt. I am finishing business and bean burritos are the best thing ever. I bring the ingredients to work and assemble them in the kitchen. I had an audience a couple days. It was pretty cool.

I lectored the 7 mass for the Immaculate Conception with boys in tow Wednesday. G did his sprints, and Nic did his impersonation of the drinking bird--which was sort of amusing, since this is a G move, but the whole church could see it, and it took all my self control not to lean over and tell him to stop (he did, on his own, after a couple minutes). After all, I learned the hard way that trying to stop a behavior oftentimes draws more attention to it. The woman I subbed for parted with "I love your boys. They crack me up."

My message made it, unchanged, to its recipient. The voicemail that came in response is one I am going to figure out a way to keep.

Nic is helping to run the holiday party committee, and I am pleased. He is taking on more responsibility on his own. And yesterday, he called first thing in his morning, upset that he forgot his Phillies hat, and could I go home and get it.

I convinced him he could get through the day without it, and coached the SPED director on how I wanted to handle him. She used common sense and consideration--and for her and these, I am grateful yet again for the wonderful people working with my boys.

Things go better with G, but I suspect sugar issues linked to his behavior. Time to dig deeper.

We got through drama camp, but not without some barbs from the teacher. One more week.

Work goes well. I am surrounded by good and good hearted people, and grateful not only that I'm working, but working in such an easy going environment with people who 'get' it.

Circling back, one basic truth emerges. Love, real love, spurns you to be the best person you can possibly be. That's what wires, fuels, and runs me.

I know I am good. But I know I can be better.

So I push onward.

Balancing on Occam's Razor

It begins with G's communication book.

His teachers, aide and I "talk' to one another in this notebook. We keep these notes short and sweet. Generally.

Yesterday's note went two pages. And so hard had the teacher pressed her pen to the pages that they crinkled when I turned them. I began my return note: "Clearly, you had a frustrating day....."

Back this up a bit: make no mistake, G is my good kid. Good to the point that most of my blog posts have been about his brother's struggles. Yesterday, he signaled an end to all that. Attention is as attention does, and it matters not how he gets it.

I own this, as does dad. Nic sucks all the air out of the room, and G is clearly advocating on his own behalf by doing whatever it takes to get anyone's attention. He will be silent no longer.

I thought of all the times in the past week he'd gone into time out for some infraction or other.

I called in to him while Nic finished his homework. He came in, sat on my lap, and regarded me seriously while I talked to him about the note in his book, and some of the things he had been doing. He nodded, answered succinctly, and we promised each other we'd do better for one another.

While Nic went off to scouts, I blew off my committee meeting and spent the evening playing with and reading to G. We had a good time.

Which links into some epiphanies I had riding in to work yesterday morning, namely that my time is short, and I need to be more judicious about the battles I engage. My little one clearly still needs me, and I need to be present for him.

I wrote a letter that will be delivered to some one special today, December 8. I am hoping that the receiver takes the message in the spirit I intended.

Regardless of what happens, I want to make sure all I need to do or say is done. I want no unfinished business this hoiday season.

The Fabulous Fr M

Probably the best thing about getting my kids used to attending mass is the fact that I can now attend the mass myself once again. And all I needed to do was to teach my boys to follow the 'script' of the missalette.

G goes off for the Children's Liturgy, and Nic and I read the scripture together as the lector, then the priest, proclaims from the ambo. And Nic likes Fr M enough that he is now willing to tune in during the 'unscripted' (for him) homily. Which is a huge help to me, because I can actually focus on the homily now instead of trying to keep Nic contained.

Anyway, these gifts come for a reason: the yesterday's gospel spoke of John the Baptist and his words to the Pharisees--in short, "You may come here to be baptized, but if you don't acknowledge your sins, be prepared for the unquenchable fire."

Fr M was uncharacteristically blunt in his sermon, basically dovetailing on my previous post about people who claim to be righteous, but are not, and calling them out to reassess their lives and values.

I literally sat there with my mouth open.

I didn't get the opportunity to talk to him after mass, but we saw him again for the parish's carol night; I narrated, my family came to give me notes. Fr M sat with us. I thanked him for his sermon, telling him he knocked it out of the park--again. He is a humble man, and seemed more abashed than usual in thanking me. And I insisted, "No, really, I needed to hear what you said. And I think a lot of people need to hear it, too."

The attendence was low, but it was a really nice service, and my agnostic hubby even agreed that it was beautifully done. G held the holy water and Nic held the flashlight as Fr M blessed the tree out front afterward.

At one point during the service, I sat between T and Fr M, with G on the other side of Fr M and hubby and Nic behind them both, and had a real sense that my family was truly all together at that moment. I wonder if Fr M and T felt that way, too?

So it is this feeling, one of hope, warmth, and love for my family--those of my blood, and those I have chosen--that renews me, fills me with joy gratitude, and keeps me moving forward.....

(Salt) Pillar of the Community

I can't post the previous without its partner, but I didn't have the time yesterday.

So bookending yesterday's smackdown was one that started Monday evening. I received an email from the drama teacher (you know, the one who professed to wanting to work with me and the boys) asking me where Nic was with interviewing the cast for the program.

I figured this a fair enough question. I checked his sheets, and he had gotten through about 12 interviews, and had 14 to go. I send this information back.

Five minutes later comes back an email: she is concerned that Nic will not get the program done in time, can another boy help with the interviews?

I shrug and answer: sure.

About an hour after that: another email, this time telling me that the set designer would much rather do the program on her own, could I please send drama teacher everything Nic has done?

Hmm. I email her back and tell her I will get everything to her in the am.

SO I type up Nic's notes, send them to her, and get a saccharine note in return. It makes me suspicious enough to send the set designer my notes with an attached message: So-and-so said you'd rather do this, so this is where we are, and we will see you on Friday.

Long story short, set designer was utterly mystified, and asked me when we saw her on Friday if Nic would finish the interviews, because she really didn't have time to do them.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on here.

I tell Nic he needs to finish all the interviews THIS SESSION. He had 14. And damn if he didn't finish them all.

The program director's voice went up an octave every time she spoke to me. And at 5 minutes to 6, she asked me how many more interviews Nic had. "Because we have plenty of help here tonight.....?"

I smiled at her sweetly. "He has two more," I answered. "And he is doing them."

I had the pleasure of typing up his notes and sending them out yesterday morning. Yeah, I transcribed them, took all of 15 minutes. But he did the hard work of interviewing each and every person himself, taking notes, and making sure he got all the information he needed to get. In total, it took 3 hours of his time.

That's 3 hours she didn't have to deal with him.

You can bet I won't do this again, but I'd like to think that the program director learned an important lesson--that everyone CAN contribute something.

If you let them.

And if you don't let them, they will figure out a way to get it done on their own.

And the other point to this was that I really thought this person was on our side. I really thought she believed in my kids. And to have her turn around and try to strip him of the responsibility SHE gave him (and to try to pawn off that responsibility on an innocent bystander) speaks to a more insidious problem. If you say you are a Christian, this is not the way you are supposed to roll.

And I am certain that this person will find a way to make me look like the villain. Who cares? Bring it. Dealing with people like this is old hat to me, now.

Unfortunately, my kids, also.

Ignorance is......

pervasive? Or bliss?

During a training today, I got hit with this 2 x 4:

Trainer: so we had a boy in our troop with Asperger's, which is a form of autism, the really nasty end of the spectrum....

I found myself speaking: "Excuse me, I have two sons on the autism spectrum, one of whom has Aspergers...."

(Once upon a time, I would have just sat in disbelief and fumed for days after. I think I've been in this position so many times that my mouth starts before it checks in with my brain...)

And didn't she start tripping over herself saying what a great kid he was...but he has behaviors and a temper.

And I said, "I hear what you are saying, but not all children with Aspergers are like that..."

So the question, would she have said any redeeming words about this child had I not spoken up?

Discuss.

(In a larger sense, it matters not. You can't unring a bell.)