Mr. L learning how to dive.
Once again there I was just going about my business of parenting, helping manage my family, my home and working full time when my oldest and autistic son changed things up again.
Naturally I like to be easy going, I like smiling, I like letting things go and trying to declutter my life. But early on I learned the importance of structure, routine, and keeping things in very specific ways for the sake of keeping my child with autism happy.
It has been an interesting experience learning what routines my son needed, attempting to control that routine and then stretching it and slowly breaking it down so that it is no longer needed. Of course some routines are nice to have- like the shower routine and the getting ready for the day routine. But things like only eating pizza and French fries routine needs to grow over time. And the need to stay at a park for a minimum of an hour routine just isn't always possible, so learning to be flexible will help my neurodiverse child be successful in life.
But despite my efforts to stretch these routines to help my son grow, adapt and find joy in the unexpected moments of his life… I am still caught off guard when he skips a few small changes and just leaps headfirst into a new thing and is eager to do it!
Watching Football with Dad.
I should see it coming and I should be used to it. But I've been bit so many times in his young life by life throwing him curve balls and me wrapping my self around his little self in attempt to hold him together while he broke, and cried, and I couldn't always save him. That now I stand by with my head held high and I smile at his success and the young, scared mommy that I used to be hides inside waiting to help gather the pieces.
But I don't want to focus on the young toddler who used to bang his head and cried when routines didn't work right. Today I want to share when I went to make breakfast for my other 2 kids and Mr. L asked for eggs over easy when I assumed he was going to have cold cereal. It was out of the blue. I was standing at my stove prepping to make breakfast and Mr. L came in and asked for eggs, and ate them! Not only did he eat them, he said they were delicious and said, "Thank you mom!" Before putting his dishes in the sink.
Later that day my husband was making steak and again Mr. L came into the kitchen, took a big whiff, asked what smelled good, and then had a plate of steak, potatoes and corn. Did he eat all of his steak? No. Turns out he likes the smell but not the texture and that's ok! He had taken a big bite, chewed and swallowed but kindly declined the rest of his meat. But the fact that he didn't spit it out or act like he was being poisoned was a small miracle itself.
However since we are sharing this kid's accomplishments, let's share another one. Last Sunday Mr. L decided he wanted to go to church. Historically speaking, church has always been hard for my oldest. It's been too loud, strict, judgmental and emotionally exhausting for him. But last weekend my husband went to church early for a meeting, I was sick with a cold, and my other 2 kids didn't want to go. But I asked Mr. L if he wanted to go and he said, "Oh… right, yeah." And took off to shower. He got himself dressed tie and all. I drove him over to our church building and when I asked if he wanted to wait until my husband could come outside to meet him he said, "No. it's ok. Bye mom!" Left the car, sprinted to the door and held it open for 2 older women before heading inside himself.
Grandparent hugs.
Well there I sat in my pjs and unkept hair stumped, proud and not quite sure what to do with myself behind my steering wheel! I was so proud I could cry and part of me wanted to park that grocery getter, and dash inside God's house to check on my baby! Who obviously is not an infant anymore. I had done my job right and didn't know what to do next.
So I fought myself to stay strapped to my seat, eased myself slowly out of the parking lot and was grateful when my cell phone rang. It was my husband telling me that he just got out of his meeting, saw that Mr. L had hung up his coat and found him sitting in a pew saving a seat for my husband.
Years of taking small steps, walking the halls, cradling my kid in the car, packing fruit snacks, cars, trains, and anything that might keep him in the building- including his sound canceling headphones that protected him from the average hymn singing saint. And now he has decided that he goes to church. He participates in family prayer and doesn't mind reading scriptures at church and I never assumed he would share my religion.
And yet, here we are.
He's older, I'm older. But if you ask him if he's a teenager he will tell you, "No. I'm a preteen. Next year I'll be a teenager".
Mr. Preteen.
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