Message in a bottl-e-mail

Two weeks have passed since I've had word from Elmer at camp. For most folks, no news is good news, but Anonymom is a Professional Worrier.

So I commissioned another Mom to spy on him at Visitor's Day, from which the boy himself had banned me.

Here is her message:

Package delivered, happy boy... All is well!

Took pic and will email you when I'm back home

Have a great weekend.

Sent from my iPhone

Hooray. Toss me a bone and I am happy.

Found

Image by cszar via Flickr

Less than a week after Elmer left for camp, I found out how I'd spend my summer.

Recuperating.

No carefree summer idyll for me. I stumbled, fell, and broke, including my right wrist which is now rich in titanium.

Man proposes, God disposes, Anonymom falls down.

So Elmer is having the idyll and Anonymom the ill-dll.

Lost and Found

Image via Wikipedia

@FindingBorneo tweeted: "There is no better compliment than having a child fall asleep in your arms."

Elmer is still my child, but even if he fit, he wouldn't do it now. That 6 foot-200 lb'er with the crewcut and the acne who just walked by? Nope.
Homeboy is leaving in 12 hours for 7 weeks at his beloved CampKodiak
I thought I'd spend the day with him. And I did; Elmer downstairs watching Lost, me upstairs hanging out.
Who's lost? Elmer's packed his bags, said, "Good night. I'll miss you," and shut the door.
This is what we dream of and work for-: the independence of our children.
He still needs me for some things. Not like he did 6 years ago when he was first diagnosed, or in the pre-diagnosis years of wondering what was going on. Not even like two years ago when we finally took on the school system.
It was worth it. Clearly. Because he packed his bags and shut the door.

Da boy in da basement

Image by AltoExyl via Flickr

Playing da video game.
I don't like it.
I'd rather he be gainfully employed.
Fishing. Biking. Camping.
Volunteering.
But he's in the basement playing Xbox.
Sleeping til noon and playing Xbox.
Like any teenage boy on break.
But this teenage boy has autism. On school breaks he used to fall apart. Completely.
Now he acts like any teenage boy on break.
On July 4th, he's off to his beloved Camp Kodiak for seven weeks; seven learning-rich, social skills-building, tightly-structured weeks.
That will be followed by a camping (there it is: the camping!) trip with the Treehouse gang.
And immediately back to school.
So I'm gonna try to lay off and enjoy the "teenage boy on break" experience.

reBlog from Susan Berkson: Teen Clean Your Room

I found this fascinating quote today:

In a house with a teenager. In other words, at wit's ends. The stepping-on-legos years were tolerable But this is ridiculous. You're not going in there anymore so the kid is going to have to take care of it. June 11.  That's the day we rise up and force those kids to clean their rooms.Susan Berkson, Teen Clean Your Room, Jun 2010

You should read the whole article.

Last day of 8th grade

Image via Wikipedia

"It's been a fun year," says Elmer.

So what's wrong with me? My 14-y-o teen with autism just had a great year in his mainstream middle school, after a year in a Level III ASD classroom, after dropping out of 6th grade and going through due process.

So it's a miracle that he has had this year. Yet I sit here and think, "His acne is awful. He is so overweight."

It's not enough that he is successful in school? That he fits in? That he has a friend?

What is my problem? Is it never enough?

Not for sissies

Image via Wikipedia

Parenting a teen with autism.

Just parenting a teen is hard enough. Throw autism into the mix and it becomes a decathlon.
Kid is up and down, wired then mopey, on the honor roll and unable to get out of bed.
Now I understand why so many kids are sent away to school.
Mom, of course, does nothing right. In theory, I am resigned to being stupid and embarrassing for the next 5 years. But since I am parenting solo, I sometimes get worn down and weepy from the constant criticism.
I have toughened up a tad bit, as they say in Minnesota. I told Elmer he is welcome to exchange me for another parent. To walk if he doesn't like my driving. To learn some recipes if he doesn't like mine.
Touche', as he says.