Different Worlds

Both of my children perch precariously on the higher functioning end of the autism spectrum (often, of course, not-so-higher-functioning). And that's as close as they may ever get, because in reality they occupy completely different worlds.

On the way home from work this evening, I call the abode just to see if there's anything they need me to stop and get before dinner. 

Me: Hi FF. How are things? 

FF: Hi Mom. When's DD coming home?

Me: Um, I don't know. Isn't she there with you? Have you seen her at all today?

FF: Uh, I don't think so.

Me: You don't think so, but you don't know?

FF: I don't remember seeing her. Maybe she came down earlier. I don't know. 

Sigh. This isn't unusual. Some days the first time they interact with one another is when I call them both down for dinner.  

They occupy such different worlds it amazes me that they have the same parents, grew up in the same house, lived in the same town, and ate the same foods. Their dissimilarities, in fact, are why I was so surprised when DD was also diagnosed on the spectrum. 

FF is all about sports. DD can't tolerate them. DD is a voracious fantasy reader. IF son o'mine opens a book, it's more likely an action suspense novel. FF is into food, likes cooking shows and restaurants, makes his own simple concoctions in the kitchen. If I'm not there to make food for her, DD assembles the same peanut butter sandwich she's been eating for 23 years. Or she orders pizza online and has it delivered. DD loathes the cold. FF prefers it. 

FF is in many ways more social. If he could, he would spend most of his time hanging out with other guys, talking trash, the latest film releases, and trading crude humor references. He can't, of course, because he doesn't have any friends other than those we pay weekly. But that's beside the point. If he had the opportunity, the money, the transportation, and the bros, he'd be there.

DD has more chances to be more social and in some ways may be more socially capable (or maybe "acceptable" is a better word there). She drives a car and can actually get herself to places where there are people. But that happens rarely. In the past six months she went out four times--to dinner with a friend twice, lunch once, and to a dance once (yeah, I about fell over when that happened!). And that was a tremendous improvement for her. She spends the majority of her time in her room, alone. She has a Facebook account she hasn't been on in years. She lurks on mine, so she can read the funny or geeky posts. 

DD wants a science career that pays modestly, comes with good benefits, helps her save the planet, and allows her to immerse herself in a world of acceptable nerdiness. FF wants a job that pays a million dollars and lets him live in his own house, and go to movies whenever he wants. Other than that he really hasn't roughed in the career details. He just knows he does not want a job that "matches his interests," something I mentioned awhile back, here. 

Are there similarities? I'm literally sitting here having to think about that one. Neither likes talking on the phone. Both take terrible notes when answering the phone. Both have brown eyes. It's a short list. 

Remarkably, they do now talk to one another at the dinner table occasionally, usually about a movie they've both seen or chapters of the Percy & the Olympians books, which they've both read. For the most part, we've graduated from the door-slamming, can't-stand-you, how-are-you-my-sibling? years. For the most part. 

I think they now appreciate one another's interests and understand their differing challenges and how it affects moods and level of function in varying circumstances. I think they love one another in their own ways. 

But will they support one another when we're no longer around? I honestly don't know. And by "support" I mean both emotionally and with life's have-to-dos. Will she talk him through the tough times and disappointments? Will he help shovel her driveway in the winter? WIll they laugh with one another, remembering Mom's annual battle with the ants or Dad's outlandish dreams of a trek to the Hudson Bay? 

It's one of my biggest Mom Worries for the future. 

Step Back, Mom! Or How I Became a Rhinoceras

A few weeks ago, I received an early Mother's Day present from 22-year-old Daughter Dearest. She  sat me down and after a deep breath, oh-so politely told me to back off. 

I think the actual exchange went something like this:

DD: (with a This-Is-Big portent and hesitency) Mom, I need to tell you something.

Me: (cautiously) Okaaaay, is this something you talked about with your therapist?

DD: Yes. 

Me: Alright, good. What is it?

DD: (slowly at first, but picking up steam) I need to start speaking up for myself more, so you need to stop doing it for me. I mean, you're really good at it, and I appreciate that, but I need to start talking for myself. The problem is that when you're with me and you take the lead in those situations, it makes me look incapable.

Me: (dumbfounded) You're absolutely right. I'm sorry if I tend to step in with doctors or advisors when we meet with them. 

DD: It's okay. It's just that you've always been good at knowing what questions to ask and what to say in those situations, but I need to learn how to do it for myself now.

Me: I'm okay with that. Really. And, in fact, I think you just handled that--talking to me--very well. Nice job, DD!...So, do you want me to make that call to your advisor about the career assessments, or do you want to do it on your own?

DD: (laughing and now realizing the responsibility she's taking on) I want to make the call, but it's okay for you to coach me so I know what to say. Okay?

Me: Absolutely!  


Definitely a shocker. About 7.8 on the Richter scale, actually. When we list DD's strengths, Avoiding Confrontation is right there holding first place. During those times when she does need to get her point across, she's usually passive aggressive to the nth degree. Just the opposite of her brother, who has no problem adovcating for himself, which he often does inappropriately, but he's certainly out front about it. 

We've always suspected DD was born with that retract-into-her-shell tendency, but it's possible that her Aspieness, her OCD, and growing up with a brother who spent a lot of time railing and gnashing against the world also hindered her abilty to learn to advocate for herself. 

Trouble is, those of us who are autism moms can become very skilled at advocacy. You discover it's a must-have skill early on. But after all of the IEP meetings, therapy sessions, appoinments with specialists, talks with well-meaning but completely untrained classroom volunteers, explanations to pee-wee league coaches, and run-ins with judgmental fellow shoppers in the aisles of the grocery store, you realize you've grown a Stand-Back, Kids, I've-Got-This shield. In fact, I suspect I've developed rhinoceras tendencies. Typically peaceful, but ready to charge whenever the situation arises. 

So now I find myself in the position--at least with DD--of retired rhinoceras. Which is really how it should be. Actually, not completely retired--I still need to provide a nudge now and then. 

When I look back at DD's little chat with me, I realize it was just a fantastic demonstration of effective, appropriate self-advocacy. No anger, no defensiveness. She was pretty calm. Complimented me while simultaneously telling me to step back. I have to say, it was a gosh darn, textbook example of how to put someone in their place. Even if the someone was me. 

Good for her. Good for her therapist for coaching her. Happy Mother's Day to all my fellow rhinoceri!