Building Strengths for Builder

I am usually seeking, finding, investigating the next step, therapy, or group my son needs. But not anymore. I am looking and finding activities that suit his personality and interests. He is now eleven. Well, not really, but that is what age he tells he is to everyone he meets. I am trying to be attuned to his interests and wants. It is a teeter-totter act. I think. Negotiating with these independent thinkers, we call middle schoolers. It is the fine balance of suggestion and knowledge of your child. Some suggestions will be met with rolled eyes and an "OMG." And some will be met with a "really? cool." But it is up to us as parents to present these opportunities to our kids so they can find a strength, a stress outlet, a friend. This week it is a create and skate class...paint and individualize your skateboard. It's cool.

Oatmeal in the litterbox and other moments

What does oatmeal in the litter box, a bike without its wheels, and a guitar case made of duct tape all have in common? You are correct, nothing much. Nope, it is not the punch line to the latest Internet joke. It is simply a sample of the various events of my week here at home. And the boys were in school most of the hours of the week. Actually, all of these situations were produced by Builder. Here is why. In order to build a super rocket you need a bigger size cylinder, an oatmeal box or two. Does it really matter if they are full? No, not if you need them at 6AM before any parent is awake and you find a handy spot to hide the oatmeal. How can you possible build a ski bike if the bike still has wheels? You can't. Remove wheels immediately. Dismantle cross-country skis, attach to bike frame with duct tape. Wait for snow. Does it really matter if it happens to be your younger brother's bike? No, of course not! In fact all the better to leave your own bike intact. You have a case your electric guitar came in that is cloth and soft sided. You have seen real guitar cases that are solid, hard-sided, with handles. What better use for the multiple card boxes and duct tape you have stocked up in the past week? None. Let the projects continue, right after you vacuum up the oatmeal from behind the cat box.

Blog because...

I started this blog as a place to do some prewriting, thinking, and venting...hence it is a blog. It seemed self-indulgent and kind of silly. However, when it was eventually shared with my one to five people audience, it was well received. Primarily by the target audience it was intended for...moms and dads struggling with the unbelievable task of parenting a special needs child who requires an inordinate amount of time, patience, and grace. It is a nonstop, 24 hour challenge, pocketed with even more difficult situations and experiences you could have never ever imagined. Yet, here we sit and sigh. We are blessed with a child who sleeps all night. So many others in this boat have children who rarely sleep. I pray for those parents daily. The point is this blog may ramble, rant, and occasionally be nonsensical. However, this blog is a celebration of one more day, week, month of progress. Even if I don't always see that daily, weekly or monthly.

Rock On?

So one of the activities Builder and I love to do together is garage sales. We have since he was one, pretty much every toy, baby accessory, clothing he wore was purchased at a garage sale with a big grin on my face. Awesome, I always thought as I dragged the collapsible play tunnels, high chairs, and cozy coupes home. Because we didn't pay full price for it we had more of it. Not such a good practice. However, this past Saturday, I went garage sale haunting with my ever needy Builder. It is a dangerous combination, bargain hunting mom and kid who desires everything. We only hit two...that's the lingo. But we came home with an electric guitar, amp, roller blades, travel bag (that maybe a cat urinated on, did not know that until it sat in my car overnight), snow pants for Bounce, and some dress shoes for Builder two years from now. Forty bucks later, it does all sound crazy to me!!! What was I thinking? An amp? Apparently it is just one more thing Builder and I can argue over. The shoes? He has informed me he is never going to a social dance in sixth grade with girls...apparently he can barf on demand. Who knew? Although I think he did try it last night to avoid going to bed...However, all that being said, he loves his electric guitar. It really is so him. And I knew it would be. We strive endlessly to find the paths he might be successful in even if it is not our first choice. My son loves to be center stage. We call him our "shock jock". I guess I would rather raise Bon Jovi than Howard Stern. I can live with rocker with an attitude. OK,turn it up, but eventually turn it down. I am sure his first song he writes will about the massive oppression he lives under as we require him to not swear, be nice, and have some respect for others. My question is...will I at least make the liner notes?

Summertime and the living is easy?

Summer..not so fun for parents like me. Unstructured days mean really hard work for us special needs parents. For example, today, my ten year old and I (he is more 5 developmentally) set up fishing and paper mache, went to Target and cleaned the back room. And of those activities got us to noon. I advocated for calling for play dates. But, he knows like I do, there are none to be found. I am his play date and he knows it. Briefly, there was an opportunity for him to go with his brother on a group play date, but I chose to have his brother away from Builder for that brief time. Bounce needed the break from his brother more than Builder needed the play date. These are the decisions we make every day about our unique children. These are the decisions no one else knows we make. They are brokered by silent rules of who has been the most damaged by the recent outbursts, arguments, or activities.
Another mom and I took all the kids plus some extras to the pool at four. I forced Builder to go after he had set himself up with a cooler filled with water and his legs inside. He was hot. I had already told him no, but that is never a deterrent to him. He didn't want to go to the pool, but I told him he had to go with us. He loved it. He got to play in the water, mostly with his mom.

The best relationship my son and I have will occur this month. There will be no reprimands. No questions about his actions. No arguing. Just perfect peace and happiness. Why? He is at overnight camp. I get to send him care packages that show him I am thinking of him and want him to be happy. The boxes he get include silly and fun things I would normally just be saying no to at the store the eleven other months of the year. For example, I just sent a flying screeching monkey, bouncy ball,and a puzzle book consisting of all gross words. He couldn't wait to be dropped off at camp this year. He is a returning camper and looked forward to doing all of his beloved activities. Almost everyday, he gets to fish, collect stray creatures, and stay up late...with all boys. He gets to hang out the very cool counselors, who have a much more laid back attitude than I do.

Big Sigh

I know I was difficult at eleven. Rolled eyes, big sighs, and the very clear implication my mom was the dumbest person on earth. It wasn't enough I would perform those actions and blatant disrespect in front of her, I also journaled about it. Some things never change, I guess. Here I am venting about being on the other side; even as I clearly remember those feelings of Tweenness. I really thought I would handle it better being on the other side. As the mom, I am handling well enough, smiling through most of it. Providing empathy as appropriate, or just walking away from the disdain. Or sending the disdain back to his room. On the occasions I confront him about his super disrespect or inappropriate tone/manner, I am greeted by "OK, smart one." Well...now we are getting somewhere I think to myself. I believe he is trying to call me a "smart aleck" but his Aspie brain just won't let him. He doesn't have a definition for aleck. And truly, neither do I. The only Alec I knew was in college and really a very nice young man. Never disrespectful. However, a smart alec is someone very smart or clever, and at times irritating. I am guessing "smart one" has the same definition in my son's book. And my mom's. Big sigh. Sorry mom.