Transition in the Trenches: Midwinter Mash Up

Notes. In no particular order, here's a little of what's been happening during January and February in our neck of the woods. These could all be little

individual posts, but today you get a mash up. Lucky you!

• Once again, as required, FF made the call tonight to the jury duty hotline. Once again, I breathed a sigh of relief--he doesn't have to go in to the courthouse--yet. He's on duty for the entire month and calls in every night to check his status. I need to remind him to make the call, but he's doing it on his own. Talking on the phone really isn't his thing, but calling a recorded information line is okay. He calls in his own med refills now too, but only because it's automated. No communication with an actual person necessary. Update: He made it through the month and wasn't called in. Whew!

• Polar vortex. In case you hadn't heard.

• He's gaining confidence at college. I dropped him off the other day for one of his classes and watched as he walked up to the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, jeans, Colts shirt, no coat despite the not too balmy 24 degree day. Just like every other kid. An hour and a half later, back in the car, chatting away about the instructor, the syllabus, the presentations he'll need to prepare. He's got this handled.

• The public speaking class is in the morning. Foolish, foolish me. I'm again scraping a 19-year-old out of bed. Today he got to class with all of a minute to spare, but I pity the person who had to sit next to him. Hygeine got left at the bottom of the priority list. For the 7,953rd time we had the discussion. Teeth, face, deodorant, hair, clothes. Update, one month later: Some progress. He's setting his alarm. I sometimes have to call him, but it's not an epic battle anymore. And he usually gets the teeth brushed and clothes on without me saying anything. Hasn't been late once.

• Addendum to that last note: Lots of grumbling about what FF views as my daily Style Commentary. I may be the autism mom version of Joan Rivers. It's not quite, "Are you wearing THAT!??" More along the lines of "It's too cold out to wear that," or "Find a clean shirt, please." Today's words of style wisdom had to do with the open zipper on his shorts (it was 9 degrees out, BTW, which I did not mention). I pick him up after class and am maternally aghast when I see his zipper still unzipped. When I ask about it, he tells me the zipper is broken. Oh, well then. Perfectly understandable. But NOT SO MUCH! It never occurred to him that it might be preferrable to find a pair of pants with a working zipper. This is why I continue to be on style patrol. 

• Polar vortex. 

• On her own, DD auditioned for and landed a small part in a student theater production. Four nights a week she's with her geeky drama peers, learning the Bard's lines and laughing. We support laughing. It's a very good thing.

• Without prompting--ooh, that sounds very nice; let's say it again--without prompting, FF had the instructor sign his accommodations forms AND he dropped off the copy at the disabilty services office. Color me impressed.

• It's freezing. 

• This semester DD and FF both have two classes. New tutors for chemistry and for public speaking class are coming and going. I am the official Tutor Seeker, Screener and Scheduler. 

• And Cab Driver. No progress on transportation. I come and go, to and fro. Classes, workouts, volunteering. Somewhere in between those, I actually go to work for a few hours. 

• In an effort to increase her financial responsiblities, DD is now paying us a small monthly rent. That and gas are pretty much her only regular expenses. She's now working somewhere between 18-22 hours a week, has her own checking and savings account, and is comfortable using her debit card for little things and for withdrawals and deposits. Paying rent gives her practice writing checks and paying bills. She's now paying for her own tuition and books, but we reimburse her from her college savings account. Next up: phone and car insurance. If at some point she moves to an appartment, she'll at least have an inkling of what financial independence is all about. At least that's the hope. 

• Update on that one. Out for a drive in our car, DD skidded into a ditch. Polar vortex, freezing, snowy roads. Hondas make terrible luges. Lots of damage but not to her, thankfully. She gets to pay the deductible. Isn't responsibility fun? The good news is that she held up, shivering and shaking for an hour, talking to both the sheriff's deputy and the cop that drove up while waiting for the tow truck. Cop even wished her happy birthday. Probably not her favorite day of celebration.

• Attic furnace sputters out during polar votex. Heating and AC guy gives it its last rites. Suggests a $5,000 replacement. And do it soon, he says. Ugh.

• For the first time since the nasty incident of almost a year ago (which shall not be further mentioned herein, ahem), FF is talking about getting a job. Maybe a summer job, he says. How to make that happen without any supports is the question of the hour. (FF is now on a postsecondary education path with VR and so no longer has any assistance for employment.) I'm happy, though, that he's ready to get back on the horse.

• February thaw. "We're melting!" (Think Wicked Witch of the West.) 

• Though neither child 'o mine likes to talk on the phone (see above), DD is now adept at pizza delivery. She will not starve. Yea. (The pizza boxes and pop cans will eventually engulf her, but she will not starve.) 

• Because of this newfound skill, the husband and I actually left the house for a night, went to dinner and stayed at a hotel about an hour away. They survived. We, of course, drove them nuts by calling often. Did I mention they're not Chatty Cathys? Short conversations. Meds were taken, garage doors were closed, the cat was fed. We need to do this more often. 

• Polar vortex reprise and, oh look, the Weather Channel is predicting substantial icing over the weekend. 

There will be warmth and sunshine again, right? Right?

Acceptance and the Dark Cloud of Doom

FF and I had one of those car discussions this morning about his autism. He's sick of it. He would get rid of it in a minute if he could. It makes him different and that's what's so painful about it, he says. Above all, he needs to feel that he's like his peers, that he fits in.

"Don't you understand, Mom? Autism just makes me stick out."

I listen, I tell him I do understand. I try to point out that he has strengths and some extremely good traits, that his autism isn't all bad. 

He doesn't care and doesn't want to hear it. He just wants it to go away. And on and on. I seriously don't know how our conversations in the car devolve into dangerous territory like this. Sigh. I wish he could reach some level of acceptance and peace with it, but no. Or, at least, not yet. I'm not suggesting that he needs to love his autism or begin glorifying it in any way. I'd just like to see him arrive at a level of tolerance that would enable him to "walk around" the potholes in his life.

I imagine some day in the not-so-distant future when he'll calmly be able to talk to people about what it's like to have his brand of autism. Maybe he'll even be able to stand up in front of a classroom and describe the day-to-day hurdles to a class of college students. Or maybe he could at least get to the point where he can explain his challenges to a college professor (without an emotional upheaval) so that he can appropriately advocate for his own accommodations without having someone do that for him. But for FF, at least for now, the not-being-able-to-accept-it IS a part of the disability. 

As it is, I'm able to divert the conversation to something happier, just before I drop him off for his community college class--a very good thing. But Mom Worries taunt me. How will the conversation color his day and his mood--and, for that matter, eveyone else's with whom he may come into contact?

An hour-and-a-half later I pick him up, he slides into the front seat, and cheerfully tells me all about the TED talk that his instructor shared with the class from a young college student who has, wait for it..., autism. The video was one of several the class watched, illustrating good public speaking techniques. I actually watched this video months ago, and I even showed it to FF and told him about it--although I'm sure he wasn't interested in watching the whole thing. He remembered the student, who is studying quantum physics in Indianapolis (and, no, FF is not one of THOSE students with autism).

Did the instructor include the video specifically because FF is in his class? Did he show it so that FF would know that his autism doesn't need to be a barrier in his class? Or maybe so that the other students would see the tall awkward kid in their class a little differently? Or maybe it was just a coincidence (but I doubt it). I don't know. But at least for a little while, the Dark Cloud of Gloom dissipated. He was happier. I was happier. 

So thank you, COMM 101 professor. By showing him that he's not the only one, you helped him fit in just a little bit more. It's a little thing, I know, but you eased him into a better day. And for that you get the Gold Star of the day from a grateful autism mom.