Letting Go #3

Today I dropped him at the airport to fly off to Israel, which requires a whole new level of letting go.  I remembered the first time I experienced this as he rode off on horseback on a Mexican vacation; in fact, I blogged about it in 2009 on the occasion of another letting go moment:
"Let him go, let him go, let him go.

Physically, I did.  Mentally, not so much.

Just before midnight, Diver joined a crowd of other teens waiting to board a bus at a satellite YMCA site in the city.  

Bye!  Have fun!

Not even a backward glance.  We'd already had our talk about the right way to behave, not getting drunk on sugar and pop, who to turn to for help. 

I remembered the first time I waved him off alone.  We were on Stone Island in Mexico, and he went horseback riding with a group.  I don't ride.  I grimace and worry, so I waved him off through gritted teeth and angst'd for the next hour.

Which is pretty much what I did last night.  Nine hours have passed and I am so tempted to call the youth leader on her cell.

Then I remember all the things he has successfully navigated.  Snorkeling, scuba diving, diving boards, flying, skiing, customs, bar mitzvah parties; things I could never do, not just alone, but ever.

So he can do this trip.  Even if the phone rings right now, with the cry  "Help.  Come get me!"; calls I used to get a lot, he's already succeeded.  He got on the bus alone last night and journeyed to an unknown world.  He'll come back stronger and more confident.

Maybe I will, too. "

I'm glad I revisited this, because it's the same thing: letting go.  So he can do this trip.  He's journeying to an unknown world, and he'll come back stronger and more confident. I believe I will, too.

One month

Image via WikipediaIn a single month, the ASD teen got a job, trained for a job, worked a job, excelled at a job, and quit a job.

A roller coaster ride for anyone, especially someone with Aspergers. And his Mom.

He was excelling, giving it his all, which is how he operates. He would come home feeling good, but exhausted. He missed some school, struggled to juggle & coordinate his three schedules (school, law enforcement exploring, work). (For those of you who don't have ASD or ADHD kids, this is known as an "executive skill" and is challenging for our kiddos.)

He double-booked himself one day, which escalated the issue to crisis stage. He struggled to manage, calling around to find a replacement. Striking out, he sank into a silence, emerging once or twice to announce "My heart says one thing; my brain, another."

Next day, he himself said, "There's too much on my plate right now. I took this job too young. Maybe I can handle it when I am 16, but right now, it is too much. I appreciate the opportunity and I even enjoy the job. But it is too much."

Which is essentially what he told the store manager. I listened from the hallway, as the manager expressed his disappointment and said, "Without giving 2 weeks notice, you will never work for this company again."

"I understand," said my son.

I do, too, now. I was disappointed. I was sad. But now that he's back in his pre-working routine, I see that it was too much for him. There was too much on his plate.

Thus we grow.

Related articles

• Asperger's Syndrome and ADHD (everydayhealth.com)

Growing

Image via WikipediaAnonymom is growing up.
Because as Diver/Elmer/Dude
has grown, mastering new skills,
I've had to back off. Pull away. Chill.
The hours/months/years that went into getting him what he needed-
Aren't needed anymore.
It's a blessing. A miracle. And for this mama of a child on the autism spectrum, a challenge.
Raising a child with special needs is all-encompassing. Now, by the grace of god, I'm unencompassed. He's just 15; not fully grown, but no needier than any other teenager.
Today he flew off to Canada, unaccompanied.
Which means I'm unaccompanied, too, and unencompassed.
Say what you like about raising our kids - and it is all-encompassing - it does fill up the days.
So this is new.
Now I pray for the skills to grow, just as he has.

When autistic behavior is misunderstood | Washington Times Communities

When autistic behavior is misunderstood | Washington Times Communities

How well we know. And understand.

Ouch is right

Image via Wikipedia

On her Teen Autism blog, Tania writes: "And no matter how much you love your son and the wonderful person that he is, no matter how far he’s come and how much he’s achieved and how high your hopes, it still hurts. For both of you."

This week, Elmer's team leader cc'd me a post she'd sent to Elmer's teachers:

Hi All,

I noticed that Elmer doesn’t really have a clue about when to interject his ideas or perseverations of the moment during your class time. He becomes easily embarrassed if he is redirected in front of the class. So, how to shape and redirect his behavior effectively as gently as possible?

It will be helpful for us all to tell him when he can share information- exactly as you wish him to share.(both verbally and in written form) Gentle reminders in written form would also be helpful to him when he forgets or needs reminders in novel situations.

He has been in a 1 teacher : 5-8 student classroom for the last few years where this behavior was not a an issue. He needs to learn when to share relevant info and when to share goofy fun stuff so it doesn’t interfere with your teaching. Elmer and I will talk it over in goals lab, too.

Thanks, he is thriving in your classes, Team Leader.

Immediately I pictured his classmates rolling their eyes, tittering, "Weird Elmer"ing. Ouch. At least in our case, Elmer has Team Leader who is on top of this. Still, as Tania wrote, after all these years and as far as he has come.....Ouch.

Image via Wikipedia

Elmer's 6' tall. He runs the snowblower. And he got a phone call.

He's on the call right now with "Nickolai from Camp Kodiak", apparently a pal from last summer. I'm eavesdropping from the top of the stairs as they talk about paintball, snow, rain, school, normal stuff. It's one of those milestones Tania at TeenAutism writes about. Not a big deal for most kids, but meaningful for him.

And me. My cheeks ache from grinning.

He's hung up now and returned to Xbox live, normal teenage stuff.

I imagine Nickolai talking to his Mom about the call; her pride in his milestone.

Thank you, Alexander Graham Bell*, Camp Kodiak, Nickolai, and his mama.

*his mama, too.

Bad mama

Image by IndyDina with Mr. Wonderful via Flickr

I'm a bad mama. Bad, bad, bad.

And I don't mean bad in any cool, ironic sense.

I made a mistake this morning, which in and of itself, is ok.

But I did not have it in me to make it right. No patience. No grace. Not enough love.

Elmer (I don't even like the name) was having a rough morning. Dad hadn't shown up to cover the morning routine for Mom, who had a 7:30 meeting. Guess what? That threw Mom, too, but Mom was sucking up and dealing, nudging Elmer through his morning routine, when Elmer asked if he'd really be walking to-and-from school, even in winter.
Warning! Red alert! Think before answering, Mom! (Oh hindsight)
"Of course you'll walk, Elmer,unless it's -15 and blizzarding."
..............................................................................
"Mom! That's child abuse! How? How could you?!?! Do you know what I'm dealing with now? Do you? If you did, you wouldn't have said that."
...............................................................................
I get that, now. And I have since apologized.
What I could *not* do was stick around to process and fix it. Could not do it. Told him my day had gotten screwed up, too. That I would drive him today, that we would laugh about this tomorrow. But he was stuck. Asked to go see his therapist, who had no openings today.
I just did not have the patience to be a good auti-mom today. I had things to do, errands to run, and I asked him to come, but he refused. Instead of sticking around, I left. I did my errands. I am now at the library. He will have to work this out on his own.
Because I am a bad mama.