If you build it, he will come. But if he hides it, will you find it???

You know how sometimes people say “oh, your kid’s autistic?  Then he’s got like super Math talents, right???”  Or they think he/she has musical talents that make Mozart look like Salieri.  Or they think he/she can tell you any phone number in the tri-state area because he/she has eidetic memory and can whip up the contents of a phone book faster than Siri.

Well…if J had an autistic super-power it would be hiding things.  For the life of me, I’ve turned this whole basement upside down and I can’t find ONE set of flash cards that came in the mail yesterday, that we worked on very briefly and that he was left unsupervised with for less than a minute.  And Dada says “oh, he MADE ME put them in the plastic container!  THAT is where I put them!”  Cut to today and I’m still searching…

You’d think that by now I would have run into a box of cards depicting different professions and the tools of those trades.  I haven’t.  I’ve looked and looked…I haven’t seen them anywhere.  I am sure they WILL turn up, but the question is when and how and WHERE!!!

Matters are further complicated by the packing and organizing that’s taking place.  We have a saying back home: “estoy que piso y no arranco.”  Do you know what that means?  I’m stepping on the gas, but I’m not moving.  What progress I’ve made is minimal, and I keep putting off for tomorrow what I should be doing today, but my intentions continue to be pure…I will get to it, I know.  The question for that is also “where, how and WHEN????”

For J’s portion of assistance I have gathered all the paper to be shred and have set up a shredding station FAR AWAY FROM THE BILLS!  Because he loves those ziploc bags that you can suck the air out of with the vacuum cleaner, we’ve made good progress in that portion of packing.  Little by little I’m labeling the books (the many, many books) and tying them in bundles so that they’re ready to transport and store in the corresponding cube when we get to the new house.  (Don’t ask…my family thinks I’m nuts, but if you want a book and we own it, I can find it in less than two minutes…)

There are 29 days between now and the 15th of August.  J’s Water Fun Day at school is on Tuesday, we have an appointment with the psych to review how the transition to less med is going on the 2nd, and then there are two more summer movies J wants to go see before those 29 days are consumed and school starts up again.  So between appointments, movies, TGG’s schedule at work and school and Dada’s schedule at work…I don’t know why I’m not in more of a hurry.

I get the feeling that I will suddenly go into panic mode, and then things will get ugly in a hurry.  This overconfident streak of mine simply indicates that I have not fully grasped the enormity of my task, and that it’s all because I can see how the work is progressing across the street and that I keep reminding myself we’re just “moving across the street.”  (Sterling Holloway’s voice keeps reminding me to “watch out, please, for overconfidence” as he does in Disney’s version of Peter and The Wolf.)

The sight of all our stuff, quite honestly, is overwhelming me.  There are days when I think (usually while watching home shows where people are complaining of how cluttered they are and how they need more space) “we don’t have THAT MUCH stuff.”  And, honestly, we don’t.  And what we have is pretty well organized.  But still…

My motivation for working my way through piles of things and starting to pack them in an organized fashion is finding that package of flash cards.  I wonder if J did this on purpose.  I spent the day as if in a Dr. Seuss book:

the cards, they are gone…

and I can find none…

The fireman, policeman,

the doctor, the nurse,

the tools of their trades

are not in my purse

they’re not in the couch

in the box

in the basket

they’re not behind the cushions

or under the beds

no, we cannot find them

we’re out of our heads…

And J, who thinks his mother is already pretty entertaining, gives me a sad, pouty look that makes me wonder if he’s doing this -in his mind- for my own good.  The spontaneous and sudden “I LOVE YOU” and “THANK YOU” and “GOOD EVENING” seem to indicate that, yes, my son’s machinations are geared towards lighting a fire under my immobile butt…  OK, the giggling when I’m desperately lifting things and looking everywhere is kind of a dead giveaway…


They’ll obviously be in the last place I look…



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