Jackets, Coats, and a Side Order of Fear

There have been a lot of tears at our house revolving around the inevitable kindergarten experience that Rowen must endure. We had one such incident this morning when Rowen tried desperately to put on his light jacket in an effort to thwart the intense change-up of wearing a heavy coat. He has a hard time with change, and this includes what he wears. I must say he does an impressive job of giving change the middle finger by wearing shorts and t-shirts year-round. Yes, he knows that in order to keep Children's Services off our doorstep he has to wear the socially normed "long sleeves and pants" outside the house. Once he is home though, it's summer time for him.

We have had many-a-talks trying to soothe him about other fears he has at school. He is desperately afraid of being left behind by the other kids. He asks me to pray every day that his friend will sit with him at lunch. We have recently added to prayer that he could get his coat on fast enough beforehand so they won't run off to lunch without him. He even asked- well made- his teacher pray the same prayer with him at school. Out of the mouths of babes...

I've long ago learned that his rough exterior at times is a defense mechanism to keep his fears from bubbling. The autism monster often takes aim, and Rowen is just trying to dodge the bullet. Sometimes the meltdowns are from being so desperately afraid that he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sometimes he is so full of fear that he doesn't know how to self soothe- though I see him try. And sometimes, he's just being a total goober and mouthing off. What 6-year-old doesn't though, I guess. Sigh.

It's sad to see him so afraid. This morning, touched down by the coat incident, I felt desperate myself. I was desperate to take it from him, to control it in some way but sometimes the autism monster just wins. Life isn't fair that way I guess. I must have heard the questions, "mommy, do you think the other kids will think my coat is ugly?" and "mommy, will the other kids be wearing coats just like this one?" a hundred times through his red-faced tears. It doesn't matter how many times I answer the question, it doesn't give him what he's looking for.

Rowen wants so badly to fit in, but autism has it's way of making sure that becomes nearly impossible. I think he knows he's a little different and tries to iron those differences out so no one will see him. He feels more at ease being the invisible boy but it goes against his desires for friendship. It must be a tough road to walk. I know I feel self-conscious at times, but this is game on to an entirely different level.

So every time he flips out Jersey Shore style, I have to ask myself what he is afraid of. That usually does more good than giving into my own frustrations. When they said parenting is the hardest job in the world, I never realized to what extent. There's so much on the line here. We'll get it right though. It just takes some work. And maybe a hand grenade to autism. Who's with me?

Planet Autism

We've all heard that men are from Mars, women from Venus, and Tom Cruise is from, well, some other planet. But many of us non-Top-Gunners are finding ourselves these days on a place called Planet Autism. I packed up and moved there a few years ago and haven't returned since.

Planet Autism is filled with therapies, doctor visits, moody kids, and a harried mom who missed the "soccer mom" boat and landed herself instead in the "therapy mom" boat. It's the much lesser known brand of the all-American mom, but the boat is filling up fast. It's a one-way ticket to Planet Autism. All Aboard...

I look at my calendar every day to tell me where I am going. It's been a little bossy lately. Don't let the picture of the pretty little palm trees swaying in the breeze fool you. My calendar is relentless. Last week I had an appointment every day; a few days there were a couple I had to bounce between in the same day. Lest we forget I had two kiddos being dragged to each appointment that had some sort of promise of making our lives better. I started to feel like the girl in The Exorcist. Somebody needed to stop my head from spinning or it may well have shot off my body into outer space. Hey, maybe at least I'd meet Tom Cruise.

Thank goodness for Brenner, because he did just that. No, he didn't get me Tom Cruise's autograph, but he did stop my head from spinning. He told me I was doing too much and I was taking our poor kids down with me. I fought back for a minute or two, but quickly caught on that he was right (please, don't anyone tell him I said that).

Taking a hiatus from Planet Autism is darn near impossible though. I live with therapists and doctors who almost come from different planets themselves. The pill-poppers are fighting the integrative doctors like the confederates did the union. I don't know how much it matters though because Lincoln still gets shot in the end.

So I guess it's up to me to end the madness. I was told tonight to go with my instincts. I think my instict has told me lately that I suck. I need to make some changes and let my kids be kids again. Sure I need the help and will still paint my address on Planet Autism, but I need to find a healthy balance before my head starts spinning again.

So maybe I will hit the sack and sleep on this one... balance myself out with a little shut-eye for now. Or maybe I will crash in front of the tv for a few. I have the sudden urge to watch Jerry Maguire.