John Mayer Helps Autism

In the world of autism, we parents have many a battle to fight. Sometimes you don't even know there is a battle and it creeps up on you like a stealth, quiet ninja...

"I had no idea that the color of the curtain at story time at the library would set him off!!"

"I wish I had brought Honey Nut Cheerios for him to snack on instead of plain Cheerios-may I never make THAT mistake again!"

These are the things in life that you didn't see coming. If you're anything like me, sometimes you are really on the ball as far as projecting ahead at the pitfalls and bumps in the road for that day. Other times (okay, let's be honest here, most EVERY DAY), I am just in survival mode and planning ahead feels exhausting.

All you planners out there are shaking your heads...tisk, tisk...if only she was a bit more like me. Trust me, I WISH I was more on it. And, Liam has taught me a thing or two about being on it if I want to stay anywhere for an extended amount of time.

Sometimes, though, there are just those blaring, obvious markers in your day that should indicate what your outcome will be. As I have said before, you can anticipate with some certainty what will be served on Thanksgiving day. In this instance, bring a sack lunch for your little one with autism. You can bet that the doctor's office will have a long wait time, bring the Nintendo DS or there's hell to pay! You know, things like this...easy!

Then, there are those things that you KNOW better. You know in the deepest parts of your gut that it will not turn out okay no matter how much pep talk you give yourself or your little one. The thing that will set off a typical developing child, much less one with autism. You know the one...Fireworks!

In the early stages of Liam's diagnosis, I was determined not to let this autism thing get me down! People go see fireworks on 4th of July, dedgummit!!!!! This is what you do and I will not, so help me, let my son determine whether or not I will see fireworks on the 4th.

I think I thought that he would ultimately enjoy it. Yea, maybe it was loud and maybe it looked like there was fire raining down upon us, but Hey! He'll LEARN to like it. I was stubborn and deep down, I knew it.

We always go to the beaches of the gulf of Mexico during the week of 4th of July. We have a family home right in the middle of the beaches of Rosemary Beach and Seaside in Florida. It is so beautiful down there. If you haven't been, make plans to go. Some of the most breath-taking beaches in the world are located just south of Alabama and Tennessee. Anyway...

This particular year (I'm thinking it was 2004) was not unlike most years. We were down with a big group of extended family and had planned on watching fireworks in Seaside. We set up our lawn chairs, picnic basket, and blankets and settled in for what was sure to be a beautiful night. Liam was next to me and seemed just fine running around with all the other children who were there with their families.

The first batch of fireworks began...BOOM! BOOM! CRACK!

Liam looked at me with the widest eyes and the most horrific expression on his face like, "What in the freak are you trying to pull on me??" He instinctively plugged his ears quickly and again looked at me for reassurance. I was probably smiling maniacally, trying to make the whole thing seem like a normal occasion- which set him off even further.

The screaming began, other families stared as we were frantically trying to figure out our escape route. And, with each passing second, another explosion would happen, loud cheering from the crowd, and even louder screams from Liam.

Most of the businesses had closed for the evening and we were all in one car. Liam's dad, Will, scooped him up and noticed that the small record store located on the square at Seaside still had its lights on.

The guys working in the store saw the tear-stained face and heard the screams and reluctantly let Will in to the back of the store.

"It's gonna be okay, Liam. Those are fireworks. They won't hurt you, I promise." More tears, more screaming...clearly, this was not our Kodak moment we were looking for.

Will thought that maybe some music might calm him down.

"JOHN MAYER NUMBER 8, JOHN MAYER NUMBER 8!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Okay, okay, uh...guys, can you put on some John Mayer for my son?"

The song Liam was referring to was a song called "3 x 5" that we had listened to on occasion. And, come to think of it, it is a really soothing song. (hit the link above to hear it-I think you'll agree). For reasons unknown to us, it was the very song that led Liam into a calm trance in the back of that store. They put it on repeat and he laid down in the corner and let John Mayer take him to another place.

Fast forward several years to this same record store. I had long since forgotten this story (because with autism, there is a 'story' about once per week, so life begins to run together). I took Liam in to the record shop to look around. He was yelling out all the band names on the placards and so excited when he recognized one of them.

"Mom, we have THIS record- I LOVE THIS RECORD!!" He was enthusiastic and LOUD! The store clerk was hanging behind the counter and I kind of smiled and said, "He has autism, sorry it's a little loud."

He was totally understanding, as most people are when I tell them about Liam's diagnosis. Then he went on to say, "Yea, that's interesting because there was this one time this kid came in here freaked from fireworks. He had autism and all he could ask for was John Mayer number 8."

I laughed. "Uh, yea, well, that's Liam! That's the same guy you're talking about right here."

"NO kidding!"

So, I said,"Liam do you remember coming here with daddy during the fireworks show when you were upset? You were so little, you probably don't remember that."

Liam very nonchalantly said, "Yes, I do. And, that guy's name is Edward."

I looked at the store clerk and he nodded surprisingly that yes, he was indeed Edward. No name tag gave it away. Liam just remembered it. Liam had never talked about that incidence, so I never assumed he remembered. We both just looked sort of dumbfounded at each other. And, Liam moved on to other band names, "Vampire Weekend, we have THAT record!!"

Huh.

I was stunned. Liam's diagnosis is Pervasive Developmental Disorder NOS which is a fancy autistic name for developmental delay. But, I realized in that moment there was a lot more going on in Liam's brain than I gave/give him credit for. He knows things. He remembers a great deal. And, he is taking in a lot more than we can even know. His words and conversation do not match this knowledge, so it is difficult for me to know exactly what he sees. But, I am fascinated.

Edward has become part of our routine down at the beach. We will go to the record store a few times a year and say hello. Edward gets a kick out of how tall Liam's gotten or the obscure bands that he knows about.

And, I'm continually fascinated at the way my guy's brain really works. I get to see pockets of this every once in a while, but rarely. We mostly talk about the same few interests he has in looping paragraphs.

But, I learned a lot that day. First, never go ANYWHERE without noise-canceling headphones and NEVER underestimate your own child. They will surprise you!!

Joseph "Joby" Abbott Walker, Sr.

*Thanks for reading today's post. Due to life getting in the way (aka 'stuff happens') I am writing another post NOT directly associated with autism. I promise to get back in the swing of things, but had to just write about what was on my heart. I hope you will stick around....thanks, R*



Today was a cold, bleak January day...

I couldn't believe the temperature change from one day to the next, and then I remembered I lived in middle Tennessee. I grew up in Alabama, and we could have extreme weather too. But, those 250 miles north give it just a little more bite. A bit more than this southern girl likes. 

So, today's weather sort of matched my mood.

I wept as I drove in to class early this morning listening to a song a friend wrote about the stuff of life. I woke up in a funk- which usually happens when I have to be coherent before 6am- but today's funk was different. 

I experienced a death last week that I did not realize I was not ready to accept. My grandfather, Papa, died suddenly at the age of 85 in his home in Alabama. I include his age only because, while it is an 'old' age, there was nothing old about this guy's spirit. I have perused all of my pictures I have of him, and in every one, there is such a twinkle in his eye. There is so much life in his face. So, I think I just took for granted that I could travel to Bama and see he and my grandmother whenever I wanted to. The old cliche that you just think someone will be around forever.

The stud that he was!

I realize that the past few posts I have done have not been specifically about autism. But, I hope you will indulge me and let me share a few stories about Papa. They're not fantastical, but they are funny/special to me. 

It was rumored that my grandparents' house was haunted. My grandmother would often say that she would just say hello to the 'ghosteses' as she would call them. Whenever my parents would go out of town for any length of time, I would end up staying with my grandparents who lived right next door to us in this ginormous house. 

Their house was huge in my mind as an 8 and 9 year old. There were 3 bedrooms upstairs, but I would always prefer to sleep in the study which was next to my grandparents' bedroom. One time, my best friend, Katy, came to spend the night. We would scare ourselves thinking about the ghost stories and get ourselves so worked up about them. But, we secretly loved it. 

So, there we were getting ready for bed in the bathroom in the long, dark hallway. We were looking in the mirror brushing our hair and teeth and whispering to each other. 

All of a sudden, completely out of nowhere, Papa jumped out behind us to where we could see his reflection in the mirror. His hair was wiry, crazy, and going all over the place. He had on a white v-neck and white boxers, and his eyes were bulging out of his head.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

We screamed like we have never screamed before! Even after we knew it was him! It felt like a good 30 second scream.

His response was always the same after he teased one of us.

"GEEETCHEEEEEEE!!!!"

I think this was supposed to be the country version of "I got you", but it worked nonetheless. He got us. And good. 

He howled with laughter while I beat on his back out of frustration, but mixed with a ton of relief that the ghosts had not descended upon us.

                           ****************************************************

Papa grew up on a farm in the middle of the depression in the 1920's. My dad would often say he was 'depression scarred' because he would do things like leave paper towels out to dry. Or, he would fix EVERYTHING with this stuff called Shoe Goo. It didn't matter what the problem was, or if the problem really just needed to be thrown out, Shoe Goo was the magic touch. Yes, you could fix your shoes OR you could fix the seal on the window, or patch up an old lamp, or frying pan whose handle had broken off...didn't matter. It also didn't matter to him that it was urine yellow in color when it dried. 

My family is much more concerned with function than form.

One time on a beach trip, my grandmother, Gran, as we call her, bought me a pack of cinnamon sticky buns to eat for breakfast. As kids do, I left the package partially opened all  night on the kitchen counter while I slept. 

When I woke up the next day, a pack, gaggle or herd of ants (not sure of the term there) had made their way up along the bar and into the entire package of cinnamon rolls. They were crawling in ecstasy as they were over every inch of my now ruined breakfast. 

As I looked to my left, I noticed that Papa had a huge jar of honey that he had gotten from his cousin's farm. The ants, not to be outwitted, had made their way under the brass Ball jar top and into the honey. It looked like someone had taken a pepper shaker and poured bits of pepper all in the honey. You could tell these ants had their dying wish to drown in this ocean of golden, yellow delight. 

I felt so guilty for leaving the package opened all night and ruining Papa's favorite honey. 

"I'm sorry, Papa. I've ruined it."

"WHAT?!!  Nah! There's nothing wrong with this honey." 

And, I watched in horror as he spooned out tablespoons of honey and spread it all over his English muffin. He closed his eyes and ate it like it was something served on a silver platter. There was no way he was gonna let that whole jar of honey go to waste-noooooo sirrrr!!!!!  

                 ****************************************************************

I could tell you stories of how he kissed everyone he met- grown men included. I could tell you about his loud, but beautiful, tenor voice that he pridefully sang all the harmony parts of the hymns in church. 

I could tell you about all the times we would swim in his swimming pool in the backyard and play tag. 

I could tell you about the road trips he would take me and my two boy cousins, David and Daniel, on: to the beach, Tennessee, Mississippi, ski trips, and family reunions.

I could tell you that he would always wake me up in the mornings with the same farm boy song that his daddy used to sing to him about two cows called "White Foot and Light Foot":

                           Wake up, White Foot.
                           Wake up, Light Foot.
                           Come and follow Jesse to the milking pinnnnn.

To this day, I still don't really get that song, but I love that it was his routine. And, it was his little thing.

I could tell you about how he always, without fail, had Wrigley's spearmint gum in his mouth because he said it helped him clear his throat. I knew where his stash was in his office, and I would help myself to a pack or two every once in a while. (sorry, Papa)

And, I love the fact that I got to spend the most time with him in years because I was the oldest grandchild. 

I could also tell you about the time a few years ago he said something so hurtful to me in passing. It cut me deeply. And, a year later, as I was sitting beside him, he looked at me and said he was sorry for what he said. He knew it was wrong, and would I forgive him. 

That healed me. 

Sorry's were not thrown around much growing up. So, his sorry meant something profound. 

I could tell you all about the godliness of this man. A man that consistently pointed me to Jesus. A man that cried a little bit every time he said the blessing (and his blessings were always a little too long!). A man that tasted and grasped the Gospel. A man that asked everyone (much to my embarrassment) if they went to church, and if they did, did they tithe. You gotta love a man with conviction and heart. And he had both! 

Papa and his cute little Christmas vest!

I guess I just wanted him to know all of these things. I wanted him to know the impact he had on me as a little girl and who I am as a mother today. So....I guess this is me doing that now.

And, as I share these memories, my mood lifts. I get a smile on my face. It gives me encouragement to be a legend in my own sphere of life. To touch those around me in ways that are meaningful and life-giving. To bring joy to seemingly ordinary days. To always laugh. And always be grateful because there is so much abundance around us every day.

This was my Papa. And, I love him.

Amish Paradise

So...it's been a while since I last posted. As soon as I would remember that I had not posted something, I would get busy with something else. This is where my ADD shows up. The amount of half-done projects around my house is astounding...

As I type this, I am multi-tasking by being on hold with my son's mobile carrier. I have them on speaker phone, and they keep playing these pre-recorded messages of different pop artists and bands announcing who they are, followed by a snippet of a song of theirs. I wonder if these artists know how completely terrible their songs sound on the phone speakers. It's pretty bad. It definitely doesn't make me want to run out and purchase their record.

So, instead of focusing on autism this blog, I decided I would venture outside the circle of trust into a broader spectrum of parenting and parenting those pesky teenagers. Ha! As I sat down to write this, I went through my list of things that i could talk about relating to autism, but this is the thing that is most vulnerable to my heart right now- the internet.

*sigh* Simpler times. When he would just show up with the boom box and not the phone.

As I have said before, I am raising two boys. Two future men. And, let me tell you, this is no small task. I feel the pressure. I do. Without putting down half the population, I will just say that I know a lot more altruistic women than I know men.

#Ouch! *Biff! %SLAM! #Pow!

Sorry, guys. But, from my vantage point, that is what I see.

By nature, it's kind of not their fault. Ever since that little wench, Eve, tasted that stupid apple, and Adam followed suit, the curse on men has been pretty much playing itself out over and over again generation after generation. Men are obsessed with careers, toiling and slaving away in an endless journey of achieving fulfillment and success. This inevitably leads to an unfulfilling life because we were (in my humble opinion) meant to be in communion with God instead of running around aimlessly plugging in our umbilical cords to work, sex, food, fill-in-the-blank obsession, etc.

And, we've got our problems too. As women, we are forever chasing our relationships and trying to get the man to be for us what only God can be.

I realize this is grossly overstated and cliche. I know every single man is not this stereotypical and every woman is not either.

But, I gotta say...this darned internet could be the life and death of us!!! Just like anything, it is both good and evil. But, today, I can only see a glimmer of the good.

I realize that I am setting myself up by typing anything about the internet and putting it up on the...[wait for it]... internet.

Love it, hate it. It's here to stay.

But, I will only be on my soapbox for a brief moment...

I consider myself somewhat 'with it' when it comes to knowing what's happening in today's world. I love pop culture, indie music, great TV, comedy, all of it. I am a consumer, without question. And, I will say, if you are not "in the know" as it relates to what your kids are in to, then you are already behind the 8 ball.

If you do not have a Facebook account, don't know what a 'tweet' or 'tumblr note' is, then start researching now.

If you don't know who T-Swift, Psy, or Macklemore is, clear your calendar and spend a night on Youtube.

If you don't know what Halo, Skyrim, or Call of Duty are, we got a little work to do.

I'm not suggesting you need to like these things, but you gotta know what your kids are in to. You've got to stay a few steps ahead. Otherwise, you've missed the opportunity to speak truth and light into kids who so desperately need it.

I have since learned over this holiday season that all phones are moving towards being "smart" phones a.k.a.- they get on the internet. Before too long, you will not be able to get just a simple phone that texts and makes calls- it's all going digital, 4G, etc.

Personally, after I got my iPhone, I do not even know what I did with my life before I got it. It has revolutionized and helped my ADD-ness (think iCalendar with alert features) and has kept me connected in ways that have helped (and probably aided in my distractibility, truth be told) so much.

But, I am a grown woman. I know somewhat of how to filter what I need to see and what I don't need to see. Kids do not. I also know what to place on the internet and what not to place on the internet. Kids do not.

So, we have equipped and outfitted this whole new generation with these portals of infinite knowledge, with one click of a button. If my 14 year old wants to know how to do something, he will not ask me how to do it, he will ask Google or Bing or Yahoo.

And, as one male friend told me, these smart phones are little porn portals. Sorry, folks, but that's what they are. And, moms, you need to get your head out of your @$* if you don't think that YOUR boy is doing that. It's basically like placing a big box with a shiny bow on top of their laps and saying, "Sorry, don't look at what's inside!" It's too much to handle. It is asking WAY too much of them.

Then, if you think, well, I'm out of the clear, I have girls!!

NOPE. Think again.

The popular thing for girls to do now is post nude photos of themselves with the cameras that are on these little phones.

NOT MY LITTLE PRINCESS!!!! Uh, yea. It's happening.

And, why wouldn't they? If they are not getting the appropriate attention they want at home, they look to their peers, and then, if not there, let's take it up a notch. This'll get 'em talking!! *click*

So, I can protect my guys from my end, but I cannot protect them from other people. And, the way that men are wired and the way that women are wired...it's the perfect storm.

Some of you may be wanting to move to Pennsylvania on an Amish farm about right now. Believe me, it sounds tempting. You might think, "okay, I could pump my own water!" "I can rock a skirt and bonnet!"

Exhausting!

But, it's probably not going to work. And, I went on that field trip with my kid, and it ain't all that. There were women with beards...

So, what do we do with Pandora's box infinitely open?

My only answer is logic and communication. It is not fool proof, but it is a good enough start.

The bottom line for now is that my boys can't have internet on their phones. Hence, the hours of phone time for me with customer service. These companies do have a way to disable internet access. It takes a little finagling, but it can be done.

Even iPods. My son has a classic iPod and not an iPod touch. Sorry! Lame-o mom, at it again!

Also, computers are in all the main parts of the house. No computers in the bedrooms and hiding in closets. Anyone can walk in at any point in time, so no funny bizz-ness. I also have software that sends me emails to my account that lets me know what's being looked at. It is not fun to peruse through the stupid stuff that is googled, but it beats the alternative.

I know what you are thinking...uh, duh! Your son will not always be in your house. What will happen when he leaves for college. Guys, I've got this! I will simply put a police type "house arrest" ankle bracelet and shock collar for any websites that are PG-13 and above. Done and done.

I kid, I kid.

The answer is. I don't know.

This is where trust, grace, faith, prayers, and all of that combined come in to play. I will not always have the filters on and around my children.

But, my hope is that maybe they learned a little something along the way. Maybe they listened to me at some point. Maybe when I am on the edge of their beds with quiet tears letting them know the dangers of the world, they get it.

Maybe I won't try to lecture them in the morning since all I get is glassy-eyed stares. Maybe night time is better.

I do not know.

But, my hope is that the "lame" rules that are in place now will be seen as protective shields later on.

Plus, I am definitely too lazy to live in an Amish community.



P.S. Hopefully no men were 'harmed' in the writing of this blog. :)