Letting Go

As a parent, there inevitably comes a time when our children are ready to strike out on their own and be their own people.  For me, it’s happening much too quickly.

I have very clingy children.  They like to climb on me and smother me.  Even at ages 9 and 6, they still want to climb in bed with me at night.  They want to be snuggled to sleep.  They clamber on top of my head and rub my hair in my eyes.  They always say, “Mama, play with me!  Mama, watch this!  Mama, fix me a snack!  Mama, mama, mama!”



I do my best to meet their needs, but for years I have longed for just a bit of space to myself, some room to breathe, some time alone to think.  And suddenly, within the last few weeks, I have it.

I’m not ready.

We get to the playground at school in the morning, and instead of holding my hand and giving me a snuggle, Rowan (9) shouts a quick, “Love you, Mom!” and runs off to his classroom to dump his backpack, then heads off with his friends.  Henry (6) doesn’t hold my hand anymore, either.  He runs and skips and looks offended when I offer my hand.  When we get to his classroom, instead of me going in with him while he hangs up his backpack, he pushes firmly on my tummy when the door opens, to let me know that I am Not Welcome in his classroom.  This is his space, with his teachers and his friends.  Mommy isn’t needed there.

Oh, my heart.



I was talking this morning to Donna, one of the assistants in his special classroom.  She doesn’t see him much anymore, either, because he’s spending most of the day in the regular first grade classroom.  The fact that he is not just going there, but thriving and spending the majority of his days there, simply floors me.  There were many, many days and months and years when I doubted whether he could ever function in school at even a basic level.

Anyway, Donna and I were commiserating with each other about how Henry just doesn’t need us anymore, and she said, “Well, that’s really what our job is.  We provide as much and as little support as they need, and the ultimate goal is that they don’t need us anymore.”

Oh, that is so true, and it hurts!  Some part of me wants to cling to my little children forever, keep them snuggled up with me.  This morning Rowan opted to stay in his bed for ten extra minutes instead of having snuggle time with Mom in the rocking armchair.  And I love that he’s comfortable in his own bed, but my heart!

I know they still need me.  They still come to me for hugs and kisses and snuggles, to find their shoes, to fix their food.  There will always be a part of them that needs their mama.  But it is growing less every day, and while I am so glad and so thankful for their continued growth and development, I am not ready.

Back to School

Rowan (9) and Henry (6) went back to school today.  I thought briefly about taking pictures, but that thought was quickly driven out of my head when Henry went into full meltdown mode this morning.

It’s not that Henry doesn’t like school.  He really does.  He likes the structure, the activities, and the learning.  He loves his teacher, Mrs. A., and the two TAs who work with him the most, Donna and Sharon.  It’s just that he really, really enjoyed summer.

He loved waking up at 8:30 or 9:00, wandering into the dining room for cereal, then settling down to play Minecraft.  He loved lazy summer days spent outside in our backyard, driving trains over tree roots, throwing the ball for our dog, Lili, going to the river, and spontaneous visits to cousins or grandparents.

We’ve been trying to prep him for school the last few weeks.  He has always stubbornly responded with, “NO SCHOOL.”  Yeah, not happening, kid.  The staff at his school have many more tools in their toolbox than I do, to guide and teach through his autism.

So this morning he absolutely refused to wear any of his new clothes, despite them consisting of the same type of t-shirts and sweats he always wears.  I guess with everything else, it was just too much new  and scary.  We compromised at last with just a new t-shirt, and everything else old and familiar.  He’ll get used to them in time, I suppose.

There is a happy ending to this story.  When I picked him up, Sharon said that Henry had a GREAT day, and that his time in the regular first grade classroom [he bounces between the special ed room & the regular class] was “night and day” different from how he started in the regular kindergarten classroom last year.  He also got a candy for practicing safe body techniques all day, so that was great!

As for Rowan, while he wasn’t thrilled about going, he was excited to see his friends again.  He sits across from his friend C. and she offered to introduce him to all the kids he doesn’t know yet!  I got a running and jumping hug when he came out, and he told me that “today was the BEST school day I’ve ever had!”

In conclusion, I think we’re going to survive this year just fine.

Hello Again

Hello again.

I realized, looking on here, that it's been more than a year since I last posted.  I am sorry for that.  There have been many factors, not least of which is my ongoing depression.  I keep telling myself that I need to write, but I just couldn't do it.

Anyway, I'm back, and I'm taking steps to make sure that I'm staying around.

Different book, but still reading!

So, what's new?  I'll tell you.  Rowan, my 9-year-old, has fallen completely in love with Harry Potter.  Rowan, who was never, ever, EW, no WAY, Mom going to read Harry Potter.  Actually, he mainly listens to audio books instead of reading print.  It's easier for him to focus.  We've been listening to audio books by C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Roald Dahl.  Good stuff, yes?  But everything has its saturation point, and although I never thought I'd say this, I found myself begging to please never make me listen to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory again!  Enough!  No more!!






So I convinced Rowan to listen to just the first chapter of Harry Potter, and that was it.  He was hooked.  I made the introduction, and J.K. Rowling did the rest.  He's been binge-listening for the past three weeks.  He's halfway through book 5 now.

Yep, that's the face.

Naturally, this translates into nearly everything else he does as well.  Legos?  He's building broomsticks and having face-offs between the different characters.  Minecraft?  He built a boys' dormitory & girls' dormitory, both of which have a portal to the nether in the back.  Whaaaat?  I didn't think even Hogwarts was THAT unsafe!  He's placed a lot of armor stands around, decorated them with clothing, and named them according to various characters.  So far he has Neville, and Draco Malfoy and his gang.  Rowan, of course, is Harry Potter himself.

Whomping Willow?

He also roleplays at home, and insists that everyone joins in.  I alternate between being Hermione or Mrs Weasley.  Lili, our dog, of course plays Fang.  Henry, age 6, is generally relegated to being Ron, although Henry doesn't know or care, and refuses to follow instructions.  He's a free spirit.

So I apologize, friends, if sometime in the next five years I get tired of Harry Potter.  It's fun right now, but who knows where this obsession will lead!  You may have to save me from it all!

Wild as a summer storm.

Henry continues his search for Narnia.

Emotions Without Words

As the mother of two autistic children, I face a lot of challenges.  My two children are very different from each other in terms of abilities:  Rowan, age 8, is extremely bright in all the obvious ways.  He has read through The Chronicles of Narnia; he listens to Roald Dahl and J.R.R. Tolkien on audio book; he is finishing Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series.  He has read Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little.  He excels in math, and is very articulate.  He has been speaking his mind in complete sentences since he was two.  He has an uncanny ability to use logic, and he is extremely creative.

Henry, age 5, is less obvious in his genius.  He is very low verbal, and much of what he does say is echolalia--repeating what he hears around him.  If he is hungry, he asks me, "Do you want food?"  If he pees his pants, he asks me, "Are you wet?"  He still wears pullups, although we are trying to get him fully potty trained before he starts kindergarten this fall.

However, Henry has been reading since he was three.  He continually astounds us with just how much he can read.  He reads everything he can get his hands on, and loves the text more than pictures.  Once we figured out that Henry's preferred method of communication is writing, things got a lot easier.  The first thing he said to us via "writing" was to spell "CHEERIOS" on the fridge with magnets.  He got the point across.

Thanks to two years in an extremely good preschool, Henry's verbal skills have improved.  Talking to him used to generate no response at all.  Now he answers simple questions and talks to let us know what he wants.  However, emotions are more difficult to convey.  Yesterday morning Henry went into meltdown mode, with nothing I could do helping at all.

He wanted his shoes off.  I took them off.  The howling continued.  He wanted to build train tracks.  Okay, I got those set up on the coffee table.  Then he threw a fit because he wanted to put them together himself.  I kept asking him what was wrong, but he couldn't find the words to tell me.  It's frustrating when you know there's something wrong, and you just can't get the message across!

At last, as he sat sobbing on the couch, Henry managed to say, "Where's the train?  Where's the train?  Where's the train?"  Aha!  He couldn't find a train to put on the train track!  Once the problem was known, it could be quickly addressed.

I think communication is probably the most challenging bit of parenting an autistic child.  What is your experience with that?  Do you have any tricks that work for you?