Lost . . . again

For all of us, life can get distracting. Some days there is simply SO much to do that managing all the tasks seems practically impossible, totally exhausting and mind-numbingly paralyzing. I hope I have described it correctly because this has been my life for the past six or seven months.

So much has happened that I have wanted to write about - tell someone about or maybe even find someone who has been on this path before me who can empathize. I would even be happy just to have company along this road through Autism - I wouldn't care if neither of us knew if we were on the right road or where that trek might lead. I would be happy to have company along the way. Someone to talk to about the joys and stresses of finding ways to help my child with Aspergers as well as the child without Aspergers. He suffers too - just as much and in entirely different ways. Sometimes I believe life is harder for him. He knows. He understands issues and concerns that my first son does not.

All distraction aside, I am making an attempt to get my life back on track, keep things moving in some direction that resembles forward because time will march on whether or not I choose to try to affect the outcome of events, learning, changes - all meant to be interpreted as 'growing up with Aspergers.'

I will start with the most recent challenges and make my way around to all the other wonderful, frustrating and remarkable occasions to learn acceptance rather than conformity my son provides me with. I have always known that my son 'lives in the moment.' It is just how he his. As is typical, he helps me see both the benefits and the costs that come with this.

My son looses things.

Important things like homework, books, his wallet, all manner of belongings, money and clothing. Typically he finds them again, but not always. The odds decrease if the items have left the house. In other words, if he has had to transport them between school and home - forget it. It's gone. When we travel, I literally have to keep an eye on everything he brings along. With the exception of his electronics. Those he can manage and does, but he has had to work very hard to learn to handle them and still needs help in the form of my ever watchful (yet from his perspective - completely humiliating) eye. He hates that I still try to look after him at his age. I am trying to learn not to, but it is difficult to watch him fail (I have to choose the times when I can allow this - like the ones that aren't too expensive).

I wish I knew why keeping track of these items wasn't important to him. Well, let me state that differently. They are only important when he needs them, if he doesn't need them - they do not matter. Class notes and homework, once completed are finished in his mind and he no longer needs them - so they are forgotten or thrown aside with as little care as he might give a candy wrapper. In fact, less. He would actually put the wrapper in the trash. The homework is simply left unattended until it is left behind in some random location like all the lost socks you see along the street gutters. Just ignored until they are lost.

I live in North Texas. For the most part, our weather has extremes like any part of the globe. However, out extremes live in a higher position on the temperature scale. For us, average temperatures fall between 40F and 115F (40C). We rarely need winter coats, gloves, hats or scarves. Unfortunately, there are usually just a few days or weeks each year that we do - then 'winter' is over and we march back toward triple digits.  Therefore, my son has a winter coat - HAD a winter coat. Every year it seems he needs a winter coat.

This year, he will definitely need one because we are travelling to the east coast after Christmas to visit family in Massachusetts. Since I am a planner, I went looking through the closet as soon as the tickets were in hand to make sure we had what we needed. In truth, the boys have grown so much the past year that I needed to make sure what they had still fit even though I knew there was no way it would. A person simply cannot grow six inches and still be able to wear the same clothes. But a coat? - you never know. I thought I might get lucky. Not!!

There were no coats in the closet except the old dark green, "Starter" sweat jacket my brother used to wear that neither of my children would be caught dead in, a light-weight, nylon wind breaker and my coats. Where in the hell did the coats go?
I know for a fact that I bought two wind breakers; one grey and one black, a winter coat for Jack and a mid weight coat for Ben. I swear that closet is like a black hole for coats. Put them in there and they are off to other parts of the universe through some unseen portal!!

Seriously, how can a person loose their clothes? I will never understand - even if was explained in detail, I would never be able to comprehend how this is possible.

I asked my son where is winter coat was and he was immediately defensive - a bad sign. It means he has realized he's lost it and was hoping I would never be the wiser. Poor kid. After the astonishment abated, we went coat shopping. Again. Like we do every year. This trip is as regular as our annual trip to buy a Christmas tree. Every year at the same time of year, we are coat shopping because last year's coat is in some unknown location and the only peace I can gain from this is knowing that all clothing left behind at school at the end of the year is donated to charity. So maybe someone is getting some use out of all those coats.

I know what you're thinking. Why don't I simply choose his coat as the item that I keep track of? Yeah, I wish. It's not that easy. I am a single parent. I have a lot on my plate and some things just outweigh 'coat location' on the priority scale. Managing a household, raising two boys, going back to school, keeping a meaningful adult relationship meaningful, providing meals, keeping a full time job and looking for a new one, and all the rest easily present themselves.

So I ask my son to go coat shopping and of course he doesn't want to. It's boring and it costs money; two things he has a distaste for. As well, it cements the fact that once again, he lost his coat and it embarrasses him. But being the logical child he is, he goes.
At the store he vetoes choices left and right. All but one. I know that the color has to be either blue, black or red. I have learned not to waste my time with any other functional option not available in one of those hues. It's just not going to happen. I hold up hanger after hanger and no words are necessary. The curled up mouth is striking enough that I simply put it back. Until . . .  one choice gets a barely discernible nod. Hallelujah!! And . . . it comes in grey - Oh no! Surprisingly, it's okay. Wow!
Basking in my triumph I risk it all and ask, "Can you try it on?"

(Imagine a train wreck here. Crumpled, piled-up, derailed momentum come to a screeching halt.)

"No."
"Please."
"No. It's fine."
"Why not? We should see if it fits before we buy it."
"It's fine."
"Okay. If we buy it and it's not comfortable, you are going to have to keep it." (Stupid me, have I forgotten that in four months it will be in the company of all the other lost coats? How much of a threat is this - really?)
"I will try it on at home."
"If you don't like it at home, I am not bringing it back." (Sticking to my position even though I have realized it's hopeless.)
"Then I won't wear it."
"That is not an option."
"Fine (eye-rolling). I will try one arm to see if I like the fabric."
(Eye-rolling from Mom). "Great."

And we take the coat home. The coat lies on his bed for three days - tags on. Untried.

Then . . . . the weather turns and he needs that coat . . . and it's lost.

I know. I cannot believe it either. This is definitely a lost-coat-speed-record.

After the usual questions, we find it. It has been stowed in the same dresser drawer that he keeps his jeans in. Mashed up, tags still dangling and forgotten. Out of sight and out of mind. Right where he is comfortable with it residing.
The day afterward, he wore it to school. Two days later, he wore it out to the store. He's not sure he likes it. The coat is made of a neoprene-like material that feels "stiff." Fortunately, it's lined with a soft fleece in bright, construction orange! Now you see why I was so surprised to have it approved. This color is completely out of character. But for now he's wearing it - which is all I care about.
I hate the thought of him standing at the bus stop in 38F weather in nothing but his t-shirt. (He won't wear long sleeves, sweaters, sweatshirts, hoodies, etc., but that is another battle entirely.) His hands white and cold and his ears frozen to bright red stubbornly and diligently obeying his preferences despite that they are haltingly uncomfortable.

It is going to be a long few months.