M.M.A. or W.W.E.? No... Just M.O.M.

TGIF.... Seriously.

I think I finally fell asleep last night/this morning moments before the royal wedding began.  My mind was swirling after an eventful evening at work.

Frustrated?  Angry?  You bet.

But as I lay in bed tossing and turning, I began to wonder exactly who I am.

Where did this angry, full of fight, vengeful person come from?

I used to be so quiet.

In fact, way back in the last millennium, my brother Ken wrote a poem about the family for Christmas.  Each sibling was singled out with their own little verse.

"Frances so quiet and so serene... To you Life could never be so mean."

Christmas 1974.

So where did this person that I have become, come from?

In a nice-nice world, I could say it comes naturally from the mother-cub bond.  But where that relationship is protective, I am more angry.

And I believe Autism is the cause. 

Not because of the diagnosis....no.  But because of the reaction of the world out there.  The ignorance.  The judging with the "I know better than you" attitude.  The insurance companies.  The services...or lack there of. 

How much have I had to fight?  How much have Rich and I had to fight?

It's exhausting.  But you do it.

And you can almost never relax.  An insurance denial.  A look from a stranger out in public.  A mess up in the schedule.

A fighter.  Always a fighter.

And then the bus comes.  You kiss your kid and send him off for the day.

You close the door and unlace your gloves but you never quite take them off.  You breath a sigh of relief and relax your stance for just a moment.

Eventually, the phone rings, the mail comes, the unkind word is spoken....

You come out of your corner, ready to fight again.

So TGIF my friends....TGIF.... 

And for my son.... TGIF.... Thank God I'm Fighting.

One If By Land, Two If By Cell

Where do I begin?  Oh where?

Yesterday there was simply too much to do.  Thus, the mommy-do list was chucked out the window and my only goal was to shower.

SUCCESS!

I wanted to write about cooking club at the junior high this morning but instead, I will talk about the phone....

No, this is not going to be a tirade about Sean going over his minutes.  He doesn't even have a cellphone.

This is going to be about the old-fashioned land line, one of which I still have. 

Yesterday, was cooking club at the junior high.  Or so I thought....  It was marked down on the trusty calendar.  It was even stated on the email that was so wisely printed and attached to said calendar.

But, alas.... it was not meant to be.

Sean, however, was picked up from his day school and shuttled over to the junior high to enjoy....nothing.  I, blissfully unaware of the schedule mishap, was driving about town taking care of things at my mom's and picking up Ashley at preschool.

I usually ignore the answering machine and its blinking light - it can only mean someone, somewhere, wanting something.  Maybe it was instinct, but yesterday I was drawn to the red flashing button.  I pressed it and a voice came on.

It took me a second because the "real" voice was talking about the machine's voice...

And then I realized it was Sean.... 

He wasn't saying "Hey, mom.  Come and get me."  It more like recording his conversation with the school secretary.  Of course, I was able to figure it out and was on the phone with the school in a split second.

"This is Frances.  I'll be right there...."

I was relieved to see a smiling Sean emerge from school.  The shredding of routine a mere blip on the radar.

"Sean, do you know my cellphone number."

"Yes...."

"Why didn't you call it?  I was at Grandma's and then right across the street picking up Ashley."

"Because I was calling from a land line."

In the two minutes it took to get home I tried to explain that he can call a cell phone from any phone.  I'm sure Sean heard none of it.  His mind and mouth were already racing through his list of topics.

We got home and I proceeded to scurry about trying to get ready for work.

I yelled from my bedroom, "Sean, call your dad and find out how soon he'll be home!"

He did.  He called his dad.  He called his dad's cellphone....from a land line.

I will never be able to figure out that boy!

A Toast, A Toaster, and A Smile

It is just past noon and I am finally beginning to emerge from my NyQuil induced fog.  I am left wondering if Star Jones from Celebrity Apprentice is really going to perform Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in front of Steven Tyler for her American Idol audition.

It all seemed so real.....

Unlike Sean, I believe my symptoms are due to allergies.

This morning would have been the perfect day to call all the kids in sick and go back to bed.  But alas, I found myself once again in the car driving Sean to school.

"How is school going and you can't use the word 'great'?"

"Good."

I am in no condition to try and outwit my 12 year-old.  I wave the white flag and let him speak.

Sean picks up his favourite subject from the past few days and begins talking about the new game that they are playing at lunchtime with his classroom psychologist.  It's a game called "Attack" and before I start getting hate mail.... it's a boardgame.  They play boardgames all the time.  This particular year they have been playing RISK and now, Attack.  It teaches them to think before they act, to work as a team, and to lose gracefully.

Or that's what we are all hoping for.....

It makes him excited to go to school every day.  One time I scheduled an orthodontist appointment close to lunchtime.  Silly me for not wanting my kid to lose out on classroom time and to be efficient.

Sean told the orthodontist that he (meaning the doc) had to hurry up because he (Sean) had to get back to school.

Thankfully, the team was amused.

Kids will say the darnedest things....

Which brings me full circle back to American Idol and the contestant on it with Aspergers.  I don't know his name and I'm not even sure he's still in the running.  But I do know that a few weeks ago he made a reference to the Pepsi commercial with Michael Jackson.  The Internet was all over this poor kid and his comment. 

I felt bad for him.  He made a joke.  Sure it was on a Coke sponsored show but give the kid a break.

He has a quick wit about him.  That should be commended.

And if he were in Vegas or on Saturday Night Live, he'd certainly be getting the big bucks....

So let's celebrate and tip our glasses to the funnies and the quick-witted's amongst us....the people that belt out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with all the gusto and confidence of a trained opera star.

We can all use a few more smiles throughout our day.

I know I can.

Crap, just burned my bagel in the toaster.  Oh well... I wouldn't have been able to taste it anyway.

Have a great day everyone - and smile!

Eggs-actly What The Doctor Ordered

Sean was sick over the weekend - cold or killer allergies...don't know which yet.

We're not surprised.  Sean is famous for being ill around the holidays.  His first Christmas was a double-ear infection.  His second was spent in the ER getting fluids during a nasty bout with the flu.

Over the years we've learned to adjust along the way...keep things in perspective.

Thus, this holiday's germ invasion didn't stop us from celebrating Easter in our own unique, secular way.  Nothing says "Easter dinner" like leftover Lou Malnati's deep-dish pizza.  Yummy!

We kept it quiet and tried to deal with Sean's blend of illness mixed with adolescent crankiness as best as we could.

When Carissa and Ashley talked about searching for eggs, Sean made it clear that he was not the one that suggested it.

I think my son has finally reached the "I'm too cool for that" phase....

We're not big candy eaters so it was only after being reassured that all the plastic eggs were filled with money that Sean finally picked up his bucket and headed out to the backyard.

Coming from a family of nine children where everything from cookies to ice cream was doled out in equal shares, I made sure that each kid knew they were to pick up only 10 eggs.

Ashley found her's right away.  Carissa came in next.

And Sean wandered.  He had seven.

We attempted to hint with the Hot-Warm-Cold game but only succeeded in making him angry.

He was determined to find the rest on his own.

Fine.

And you all know how loaded the word "fine" can be....

Eventually he located #8 and then we told him that the rest were hidden inside the screen house.

FOUL!!!!!

That wasn't the "backyard."  That wasn't what we had told him.  We had broken our own rules.

I cringed every time Sean looked at the egg sitting on top of the Fisher Price basketball hoop and didn't see it.  One glance, two glances, three... YEA!  Of course, true to his nature, Sean figured out the hardest one located under the grill cover pretty quickly.

Finally, he had ten.

We headed into the house and made our leftovers.  Sean played computer, relaxed, coughed and sneezed.

In other words, just another typical day... another typical holiday for the Lehning family.

We can only wonder what's in store for us next.... Memorial Day is right around the corner!

A Good Son

Today is Good Friday.  Not that I'm super religious or anything but it is a day of significance nonetheless.

Today is the day that we would colour Easter eggs with my dad.  I can't ever remember a time when we didn't.

But my dad died in November.  Today my mom will try to carry on the tradition.

How does all this factor into a blog on Autism?  Simple.

Sean.

Last year my family experienced two deaths.  One was our beloved dog of 14 years, Whizzer, in June and then, of course, my dad Thanksgiving week.

In no way am I equating the two....

The way Sean dealt with both was remarkable.  He had such grace throughout....
When Whizzer suddenly became ill, there was no denying that something was seriously wrong.  It was only a span of two weeks but since she was home the entire time, it was extremely intense.  Not once do I recall Sean falling apart or even crying during those days.  He had his alone time with her.  He helped make her paw prints.  Only on the night she died did he cry.

Even then he was steady and calm as could be.

When my dad became ill it was really a shock to my family. 

On one of the last days of October, Sean interviewed my dad as part of a merit badge for Boy Scouts.  He had to interview a veteran and my dad had served in the Korean War back in the 50's.

I videotaped the exchange.  Sean was amazing.  He listened to my dad tell stories.  Since Sean is a history buff - specifically war and weapon related - he was able to ask detailed questions.  It was one of those great wonderful moments between grandson and grandfather. 

My father went into the hospital a couple of weeks later.  It was minor. 

I brought Sean to visit him.  Sean walked in the room and right away took my father's hand and asked, "Grandpa, what was your favourite story?"

My dad replied, "Oh Sean, there's so many."

Days later my father died.

Sean was so strong.  I barely remember him shedding a tear.  But I think he knew and understood.

At the cemetery I stayed behind to watch the casket and vault lid lowered.  My husband was going to take Ashley to the car.  I asked Carissa and Sean if they wanted to go with their dad.  Sean said he wanted to stay.  Carissa stayed as well.

The three of us stood there in silence.  Watching.

But it wasn't Sean, my little boy, who stood next to me.....

Instead, it was a young man standing next to his mom and his little sister - watching over them and protecting them - just like any good son, autistic or not, should.

Trying Times...and Trying...and Trying....

"Nice and slow."

The words still hung in the air this morning as Sean opened the car door and bolted for the school entrance.

Oh, that boy....

You have to wonder sometimes with him.  Is it autism or adolescence that is the cause for his selective hearing?

I know as a matter of I-paid-a-$1000-for-a-test-that-is-not-covered-by-insurance fact that Sean does not have an auditory processing disorder.

I did get my parking validated though.  Woo hoo.....

And.... my son does know the meaning of 'slow' as evidenced from a stunt he pulled a couple of weeks ago.

We were driving to school as usual and I was thoroughly enjoying the delay caused by construction that afforded me the luxury of lecturing my captive son for a few extra minutes.  Heck, I could even drive around the block if I sensed he wasn't getting my point.

I was in prime form.  'Slow' was going to be stuck in his head for the entire day if I had my way.  Gave him the definition, used it in a sentence...even spelled it out and ended with an agonizingly drawn out pronunciation.

I was really pleased with myself.

Sean said I was annoying.

And then we pulled up to the school.  He exited the car with the usual "I know, I know" and then did something beyond belief.

He started walking slowly.

I almost burst into applause until I saw his face....and the smirk.

The kid was watching me watch him.  And boy did he put on a show!  

I tried keeping an eye on him in the rear view mirror but exiting the kiss n drive for the junior high is like pit road at a NASCAR race.  Probably more dangerous.

How soon did he break into a run?  Who knows.... He was gone in a flash.

I drove out of  the parking lot shaking my head and muttering, "Smug little...." to the morning DJ. 

Looking back you have to laugh because it is that "typical" moment that you so wish for and cherish.  The day he mouths back at you.  The day he conspires with his sister.  The day he breaks the rules purely for the sake of breaking the rules. 

Which of those adolescent milestones will we hit?  Which ones will autism steal away from us?

I don't know.  Every day is a new challenge.  Every day is a new triumph.  And you never know how those scales will be balanced when night falls.

Will I ever get Sean to walk at a normal pace?  Probably not.  But so far, I'm having fun trying.  And that's all I can do.... try.

You Bet Your Dickens...A Tale of Two Times

The 3 to 4 o'clock hour yesterday offered up quite a dichotomy....

I was watching Dr. Phil in between picking up Ashley at preschool, Carissa's carpool arriving, and Sean's bus pulling up.  The hour filled with revolving doors, a symphonic cacophony of stories of their days and a swirling storm of thrown coats, shoes, backpacks and socks.

And all the while, Dr. Phil is talking about violent kids....

One, in particular, showed signs of being on the spectrum.  The video footage that they shot at home showed how the parents dealt with his violent outbursts and trying to restrain him, or, at the very least, attempt to keep everyone safe.

I remember those days....  I remember having Sean down on the floor, trying to control his flailing arms and legs as he screamed.  I remember crying and begging him to just stop.... please just stop.

It could have been over something as simple as him wanting to do his homework and not finding a pencil....

My friends laugh at me for having my children's things overly organized.  We are talking individual bins - some of them clear - labelled for specific Burger King/McDonald theme toys, trucks, Slinky's, animals, etc.  It's an obsession for me.  Everything with regards to the kids has a very specific place and I completely freak if things aren't put away properly.

The reason is simple. 

Survival.

Years ago, if Sean couldn't find the wind up Chicken Little toy that burst out of the egg within a mere nanosecond of him asking for it, he would meltdown for hours.  I couldn't take a 3 hour battle over a toy.

As I sat there and watched Dr. Phil, I also remembered how difficult it was to talk to the professionals back then.  Before Sean's diagnosis, I had been put through hell and beaten down to nothing because the "professionals" all thought - and said way too many times - that I needed to be a better parent.  Sean was the way he was because of me....

One phone call, in particular, stands out.  The psychologist called and asked how I was doing and how was I handling a certain issue that we were having.

I was terrified that if I said the wrong thing she would have my children taken away from me.  Terrified.  Absolutely terrified.  I lived in fear of that every day for years.

A truly dark memory in deed.  Thanks Dr. Phil.

And then Sean walked in the door with report card in hand.  It doesn't matter that it was sealed and addressed to mom and dad....he opened it anyway.  He said he was curious.

All A's and one B.  Good job.

But the thing that struck me the most was the comment on the bottom.

"Sean is a definite role model and example for his peers to follow.  We hope that he continues to set a positive example for others."

I almost cried.  I was so proud.

Now when I am reminded of the past by a television show or the broken closet door in the bedroom, I can look back and see how far he's come.

I always knew that he was a great kid.  He is a great kid.  Now, finally, the rest of the world is beginning to see it.

While Dr. Phil made me recall the worst of times, Sean reminded me that things do change and that these are the best of times...

And tomorrow may even be better.