Driver's Ed . . . . Oh no!

The time is here whether I like it or not.

   Almost everyone learns to drive at some point in his or her life. Some of us choose to learn and then avoid the task altogether by living in an area where it's not required. However, that decision typically comes with the added curtailment of all extracurricular activities like vacations, weekend trips or other travel that might require transportation beyond what is available through the local city or metro area. For most of the population, the choice to give up that autonomy and access would be a very difficult one. For some, it's a no-brainer. The answer is just a clear and definite, "No." For others, it's not really a matter of choice. Not having transportation would make life practically impossible.

Here in Dallas where the public transit system leaves much to be desired, in part due to the shear size of the place and in part due to massive under funding, most area are hugely under-served by public transportation. In addition, the suburban city where my family lives boast an annual population growth of over 25,000 annually with most homeowner's earning a level of income that negates public transportation completely. They simply don't need it. That social and financial luck, combined with vast urban sprawl have created the necessity for residents to commute in vehicles to almost every place they might want to go . . . a person has little choice. Bicycles only work well when the temperature is less than 100 degrees and you ride in a group where it is impossible not to noticed. So . . . half the year. But the other half, when tires begin to melt on the pavement an it's not healthy to be outside for more than a few minutes (because it's 115 degrees) much less exercising - bikes are not a good idea.

Large-tract urban planning has virtually eliminated the 'local community zone' from the map making it unfeasible to consider not having a car if and when the possibility becomes available. That point is the same day most urban-dwelling teenagers reach age '15.'

Driver's Ed.

Even with all the peer-pressure and geographic requirements staring him in the face (not to mention his younger brother giving him hell on a daily basis about not taking the classes) my oldest son does not want to learn to drive. He is afraid. He tells me that he cannot be sure of the actions of other drivers. He says they do not follow the laws and or rules. He's right. He says they behave erratically. They don't communicate. They are emotional. He believes that they are clearly and wholly not reliable. He cannot help but wonder how - if other drivers do not follow the laws or the rules - he will be able to learn to navigate in an environment where he can never be sure what to expect.
I get it. It's a good question and a tough one to answer. In fact, up to today - I have no sound, reassuring answer for him because I cannot make any driving experience a black and white one for him - or anyone. I cannot fix this for him. I cannot guarantee it will be safe. I cannot tell him that every day will be a good one if he does a, b and c: Drives safely himself, keeps his car in good repair and stays alert on the road. I wish I could.

Driving is always a risk

There's just no putting it lightly. Operating a vehicle on any road regardless how it's traveled comes with inherent risk which is multiplied exponentially and directly correlates to the number of driver's on the road.
I can't even count the number of accidents I have been in. Some were bad, but in all I was very lucky. Damage to me was most times minimal -it was the vehicle that took the brunt of the destruction. But still, an accident in some form over a lifetime of driving is probably unavoidable.
I wonder which one of us is more afraid. Most days, I believe it's me who is virtually terrified. So scared.

Classes begin on June 17th.
My stomach hurts.

 We never stop worrying about our kids. Ever. Not for a day and not for a night's sleep.

Soon, (sooner than I'd like) my son will be 18 years old. His birthday is just six short months away and I am incredulous as to how we arrived at this date so quickly. He is a wonderful young man, but 18? . . . No. Is he ready to be 18? Have I prepared him well enough? I worry is that I've missed something; some critical lesson or piece of advice. I've done all I know of and am prepared to do more, but I still worry that my efforts won't be enough - good enough - thorough enough.

Let's see . . . I've got him on advocacy lists - just in case he needs the support because after all . . . who doesn't benefit from a little bit of kind and or sincere support? I don't know a single soul who can't use some at some point.
I've started the legal processes that will enable him to be the strong, self-sufficient adult that I know he will be - but when he's ready. For a toolkit of your own for your child go to:Transition Toolkit

 

I am in court almost as I speak attempting to have child support for him continued beyond his matriculation date and paid into a Special Needs Trust on his behalf. I want his Father to begin paying his son instead of me. His Father is never going to go for it, but how can I not try? My lawyer believes me insane, but how would I look my son in the eye later - when he needs help . . . support, and say, "I thought of that, but I didn't make the effort. It (you) weren't worth it." I have to try.

I worry about him. I worry about his brother for completely different reasons. Like, "Did I spend so much energy worrying about one that I didn't pay enough mind to the other?"  Between the two of them, my concern is non-stop. I suppose that is what being a parent is.
Knowing that I won't always be there with a pack of items he will need throughout the day. Teaching him to pack that bag on his own.

Later I may realize that I got it wrong, but at least I will have tried my hardest, my best and with everything I've got while simultaneously attempting to leave them both responsible for their lives in growing proportion as they mature into adults. How can that be bad, right?

Ups and Downs

If you never knew it until this day; If somehow you have gotten this far without being brutally and glaringly told; If you have been lucky enough to have avoided one side . . . Let me tell you.

Life is full of Ups and Downs.

We all have them. We spill our coffee and ruin a brand new blouse doing it only later to find a $50 bill just lying there and nobody in sight - silently sitting in with the packs of gum at the gas station. Money arrives in the mail from a rebate we sent in so long ago that we had forgotten just about the same time we drive over a nail in the alley and need a new tire. Some people call it Karma. It's just the way life is - for most of us.

This week is TAKS week. My son is taking three this year. All the important ones. Those that he will need to do well on to graduate. He is nervous about them - and rightly so. They are a big deal and the school has made kids anxious about them with years of test-taking practice. Despite that he claims he isn't nervous, I know he is. He is anxious and suffering from a severe self-confidence drought.
Thank goodness for that Karma-thing!

Not two days ago my son received a phone call from someone who worked for a National company in his field of interest who wanted to interview him about the work he does creating his weather blog; Dallas Storm Watch. This gentleman who called wanted my son to fly out to his location and meet with him. Unfortunately, my son will be in 5th period at High School during that time and cannot attend. The caller could not have known that he was contacting a teenager.

 

Click here to go to the StormWatchDallas website

How terrific is that? My son's weather page must be so professional that the caller thought that he was calling a work-at-home adult for an interview!!

Good job son!!! I am so proud of you!

Honestly, I would fly out there with him if he wanted to go, but my son isn't keen on flying, so he has arranged a Skype interview instead. Another stroke of genius! I certainly wouldn't have come up with that solution. I just don't think that way. Thankfully, he does.
Is there anything better than national, unsolicited, positive attention when someone is feeling like he just might be a failure?

I don't think so.

I am, once again, so proud of him! He's gotten the recognition of someone who might really be able to tell him precisely how talented he is purely based on his knowledge and perseverance alone. And, he's gained this recognition just at the moment his fragile ego most needs a gentle boost.

It's fabulous!! And I am so happy for him.

I can't wait to hear how the interview goes. At first, he won't tell me because he hates recognition. He's so embarrassed by his own fantastic-ness factor.

Eventually he will tell me how the interview went and provide me a copy of the article the gentleman will write. Until then and even if he doesn't remember - I know that I'm not the only one who is impressed by him.

You goin' out?!?!

My son is going out with friends?

! Wait! Are you sure? because you know who my son is, right?

It's true. My son is going out with some 'friends' - for the first time in his life.

The news came to me on a Wednesday. My oldest boy wanted to go to the park after school instead of coming directly home as he always does. (He needs to check to be sure his younger brother got home okay and get something to eat. It's what he does - every weekday without fail.) He is 17 so it should be fine, right? Even though he has never been out with friends before - ever?
This Friday would be different. He was going to the park  . . .'with friends.' That was all I knew.

In a way the outing seemed completely normal and my anxious reaction a least a little paranoid. I felt knowingly overzealous to insist on the typical information from a child who is venturing out on his or her own for the first time but unable to resist asking.

"Who are you going with?"
"What are their names? Yes, all of them."
"Where do you know them from?"
"Where will you be?"
"How long are you staying?"
"Are you going anywhere else?"

Normally, kids begin going out with, meeting or 'hangin' out' with friends years earlier than 17. I have heard stories about trips to the movies or the mall where one of the parents agrees to chauffeur. But by 17 most of these young adults can take care of themselves which makes this line of questioning seem a bit silly. I felt silly asking. But I couldn't help it. As a Mom, I couldn't not ask. I asked them all and then some. . . . got my answers and let him go.

I packed him an extra lunch to eat at the park knowing that he would be hungry missing both his afternoon snack and his dinner and waited . . . .
I made dinner. I did housework. I tried to read. I looked for more housework to do. I baked something. All the while I wondered, "Was he having fun?"  "Were the kids being decent toward him (or did they invite him along so they would have someone to tease)?" I know it's terrible to admit, but it's a real concern and one that has been validated over and over again by real situations.

Just before 9 o'clock p.m. I received a text from my son letting me know that he was on his way home - walking. The park wasn't far at all and he was with another boy who's parents were picking him up soon. My son had stayed later because he didn't want to leave the other child alone and waiting in the dark.

And here I was worried about my son while he was busy making sure the others were safe.

He came home a little cold, very hungry and said that he had a 'really good time.' He shared some pictures that he had taken with the camera on his phone. He even spoke about some of the antics and activities of the night. It was all typical teenage behavior from what I could tell. I tried very hard to restrict my questions to simple inquires and leave his private experience alone. After all, I didn't want to scare him off from sharing his feelings with me through my own over-protective scrutiny. I didn't want him to begin looking for trouble where there may not be any.

All-in-all, my son had a great time. He came home happier and more animated than he typically behaves. He was with friends, they didn't make him feel unwanted or as though he shouldn't be there and he said it was 'fun.'

Everything seems totally normal. And it is. He is going out again with them this weekend.

Even though I am wondering what it was I was concerned about, I know that I will worry for him again this Friday.

Mean Daddy

Something happened. . . about six months ago. I haven't written about it. In fact, I haven't really written anything at all since that time. The impact of what happened has stunned me into a verbal silence but also propelled me by fueling a violent inner rage. I feel as though I am hosting a dormant volcano of injustice and old school "mean" that will one day boil and erupt. I am afraid that I will blow up and everything in the vicinity will be destroyed. That is the last thing I want.

Last June, my son was texting with his Father in an attempt to determine what he might like for Father's Day. I won't go into the fact that his Father's wife ought to be the one hosting any purchase of Father's Day gifts - not me - the ex-wife. But . . . she doesn't. Never has. I don't understand. Never will.
In any case, my son wanted to do something nice for his Dad and I didn't discourage him. Their relationship has never been a solid or respectful one so in an effort to allow my son to show his care for his Father in any way that he can - I support.

My son, wanted to get his father something that he needed. His Father - instead of graciously accepting any gift and then returning it or whatever solution suited him and might remain in the hemisphere of 'polite'-  instead reacted, critically, ungratefully and with a measure of callous that should only be reserved for . . . well nobody.
My ex-husband told my son that he didn't want the gift and not only did he not want it, he wanted my son to stop attempting to get this item for him, "trying to rule my life" and for that matter, stop everything. Stop coming to visit him " . . . ever, I don't need the hassle."
What my ex-husband said to my son in a text was deeply rude, mean, horrible, entirely disrespectful and managed to completely obliterate any salvageable remains of the pathetic relationship that had existed prior into a huge pile of hurt feelings, inadequacy, personal rejection, humiliation and emotional abuse. My son has not visited his Father since the first part of June and has no intention of going.
The kicker is that these days, his Father wonders why he won't come over. He is not so much surprised, he simply doesn't get it.

It's the "I don't need the hassle" sentence that stings so badly. I can barely get myself to put those hurtful words in writing.What type of parent would ever say those words to a child in reference to the relationship between the two or with respect to his or her task and duty as a parent in raising that child?

It's incredulous.

I am still so angry I am practically apoplectic. I am deeply hurt for my son and sad that any child ever has to hear those types of words from a parent. I am embarrassed to write about them - those very painful words.

All this - because my son wanted to get his Dad a Father's Day gift and his Father has NO IDEA how to behave like an adult OR understand his Techie-minded Autistic son.

I have shared this story with a few people - close friends who know the type of man their father is and they type of young man my son is growing up to be. In every case, at the end of the story, the listener will squint his or her eyes, cock his or her head and ask, "What?!" as though they must have missed some critical part of the exchange. Maybe the part where my son is antagonistic or has been so disrespectful to his Father that his Dad had no options left but to end it entirely. None of that happened though. It's not there.
Again, "What?!"

Disbelief.

My son was emotionally crushed even more than he had been up to that day in his life. He remains so to this day. He only speaks to his Father at an arm's length and has lost all respect for him. I cannot blame him. Would it were me, I be planning some sort of homicide, but my son is far more forgiving than I am. He always has been. My son has never expected his Father to behave like an adult the way I do.

The worst part is that according to the courts, there is nothing I can do to keep him from having to go with his Father should his Father decided he wants to see him again. I have no choice. Neither does my son unless he goes to court and tells a judge that he refuses to go. As you might expect, my son is afraid of retaliation from his Father should he do so. Honestly, I am too.
I thought about moving far away from here - from him. How can having any child exposed to that be healthy, right? Again, the court has determined that I have no idea what is best for my children. However, they do. The response was that we cannot move away from here because in the eyes of the court, that would damage my son's relationship with his father. I can move, but I cannot take the boys with me if I were to. They would have to stay with their Father.

What?!

Now do you understand?

Good, because I don't either.

"That's How You Get What You Want"

My son wants something . . . again.

He has his eye on a target and his tenacity in pursuing achieving or obtaining only that is impressive to say the least.

He didn't want this item yesterday, or last week, or last month. Before today - this minute, he wanted something else. Another item that, (if he could figure out a logistical path to it's retention) at the time, was critical to his continued survival and overall happiness.

Where did this come from?

The truth is . . . he had never so much as mentioned this 'thing' - even in passing before today. My son never mentions anything 'in passing.' There is always a reason. Despite that, his need for this piece of equipment was and is always as immediate and immovable as is his will. We have been through this before and I know the drill. Still, shoring the dam against the sure and massive storm surge of his persuasive attempts will be exhausting. The process is not new. However, the goal is.

Today he has an entirely new agenda and he wants this bad!! He is fixated. He's bargaining. He's managing the logistics (which I am apparently too dull to manage or sort out on my own). All this work must be exhausting for him. I am exhausted and all I have been doing is dodging bullets. My son is the one planning the battle strategy and lobbing all the logical artillery. I am convinced that all this determination is simply a method devised in an effort to keep both his mind and his senses busy with something - to stay focused. I believe he is creating a point to focus on.

Planning a battle that more resembles an international political negotiation to keep from becoming bored. The task is complicated and likely to take up quite a bit of time. This sort of undertaking provides him with something to concentrate on - something to focus on when his thoughts are scattered and jagged. Here . . . embedded in this issue, is a clear, definable agenda and a problem that can or could be solved if he put his mind to it.

As he matures, so do his abilities to formulate and verbalize some very compelling arguments for the items or privileges he wants. Because he thinks so quickly, he can sometimes (quickly) leave me behind grasping for some way to hold on to my position. I know. "Because I am the parent and I said so" is always an option, but he's 17. At this age and despite his or any disability, I feel he deserves more respect than being hurled such a childish, contemptuous and relatively disrespectful statement.

He wears me down like the waters from an enormous storm that cover everything, soak through and flood all the layers leaving only what was always firm and permanent behind. These attempts to make me change my mind leave me feeling like soggy toast. Like if anyone disturbs me any further, I will fall apart entirely and be left a mushy mass of unrecognizable bits.

Something new happened this weekend though. A victory - for me!

Again, as is the case with many weekends, my son was bored and set his sights on something he wanted; an activity this time. Naturally, I resisted and used my full arsenal of experience and factual evidence in my attempt to help him understand why this won't work as he believes it might. It was a long day.
However, at the end of it my son said, "I think I am glad I didn't do that. It would have been a bad idea."

Yay!! (for me)

Yay!! and congratulations to my son who is learning to think ahead and make those complicated decisions that involve more persons than just him and more affect than only he might feel.  

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.