Two short runs with the Wii marked part of yesterday. J gets into it, but we still have to work on lifting those knees and putting more energy into the whole thing. It never ceases to amaze us how he will leap into action with great alacrity for other things, but will seem awkward in his movements when we “run.” This, thankfully, is a learning process for all and as long as J continues to participate I have a chance to come up with solutions.
Last night we had an “emotional moment” of those that confound us tremendously. For no apparent reason, J burst into heartfelt sobs, refused to be consoled, would not pull out of his sadness and, in a nutshell, had us totally stumped. Whenever I asked him, he’d promptly say BYE! and ask me to leave, only to give me a bone-crushing bear hug a second later. This lasted for an hour (which felt like two or three hours) and then, as if nothing had happened, the clouds parted and the Sun (well…it was night so the Moon) shone brightly.
During this “mood,” he folded laundry, opted for his furry cap rather than any of the scrum caps (the one he had been wearing was in the wash and J waited for it like other kids wait for a Hot Pocket that’s turning in the nuker,) wailed occasionally and was somewhat consoled by the necessary application of his foot ointment and clean socks. I ate with a knot in my stomach and my ear pointed towards the basement so I could hear if J needed anything.
Up the steps J sprung, happy as a lark and full of energy. Our jaws, of course, were on the floor because not two minutes before he had been in the deepest depths of despair. Up to his room floating in peals of laughter. Down the stairs giggling. J stopped at the “boxing glove basket” gathered his four “friends” and, skipping happily, made his way to the entrance to the basement level stairwell. And then…
Once in a while children will do something that will make you laugh out loud. J has been doing this more and more recently. From where I was sitting at the dining room table, I could see him lining his gloves up on the top of the stairwell… With the same degree of precision soccer players pray for during the championship match at the World Cup, J kicked each and every glove down the stairs. You could tell these were deliberate shots, of course…he was lining up the glove, looking at the spot he wanted to hit and THWACK! Four thuds later, he skipped joyously down the stairs to gather his gloves, leaving us laughing upstairs. I got up and peeked downstairs, and J was standing, looking at the gloves on the floor and deciding which one to gather first…almost like reading tea leaves. BYE! he waved and off he skipped, happy as can be, to sit on the couch.
Two such opposite moods in one short night, and some people wonder how we can not be bored! Between trying to figure out why he was crying (in such a heartfelt fashion) and being entertained by his sudden desire to shoot at targets with his boxing gloves…who can possibly complain of boredom?
An item was published yesterday in The Huffington Post titled “Autism: A Year in Review”; this post is from Talk Nerdy to Me by Cara Santa Maria. Ms. Santa Maria was basically summarizing all the scientific work done this year regarding Autism research. And then all hell broke loose in the comments. For every person thanking her for the article, there were three berating her for denying the link between vaccines and Autism. Here and there you’ll find, if you opt to read this article, comments indicating something along the lines of “all I want is information because we’re new to this issue.” If you read through, you’ll easily find my comments because by now you know what my story is all about. I try to be a voice of reason, but people don’t really like that and, well, it can get pretty heated.
The point of this is (and I think -delusional fool that I am- it is an important point) that the Autism community is a lot more divided than it should be, and we’re unwittingly working against each other in many ways. You know I’ve said this before (if you’ve been reading at all…some people do others…crickets!) and I will keep repeating ’til I’m bluer in the face: knowing why would be nice, but it won’t change what we’re dealing with right now. I don’t know if I would have the energy for the day-to-day work if I invested a great deal of time and effort being angry about the causes. Does that mean I don’t stop and wonder? Let’s just say that the urge to delve and mope is there, but that I have learned that “THE KID” is more important than the “WHAT IFS.”
Of course I wonder. Of course I’d rather no one else have to go through this if it is preventable, but I’m not going to yell at the top of my lungs, berating mankind for something that is not going to change for us. I believe in research. God forbid something happens to J, but his brain is going to science…what if they can find something in there and, using all this crap I spew at you, they can come up with a possible way to look at this?
I can’t be angry for very long. It’s counterproductive to the bigger picture J is painting for us and I can’t hand him what he needs or asks for or requires or desires or hints at if I’m flapping my arms around screaming “WHY???????” to one and all. My kid is just as autistic as the kids of people who give credence to whatever conspiracy theory appeases their soul and gives them comfort, and I just tackle the problem in a different way. We all feel guilty…but guilt can be a crippling thing.
Here’s the link to the essay: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/12/28/autism-a-year-in-review_n_1171943.html
Slinky’s calling…sounds like an S.O.S from the boxing gloves…