November 12, 2009 @ 05:30

While listening to NPR, as Saturn’s rings were being discussed, this past week . . . 

Puppy:  Mommy, what is the radio talking about? 

Me:  They’re talking about the stars and the planets. 

Puppy:  Do you mean the solar system? 

Me:  Yes, the solar system!  (why do I keep being surprised at the things he knows?)

Puppy:  I love the solar system, Mommy.  Don’t you love living in this solar system? 

Me:  Yes, Puppy, I do. 

I am constantly surprised by what he knows.  In the way that Bear continually surprises me with his wisdom and maturity.  For a long time now, I’ve not had any real expectations for Puppy.  I have put all of those things away, like Mom’s silver and spectacular Jackie O-ish dress that was the center of all my most perfect playing dress up days.  Eventually, the day came that pretend would no longer do and I put it away.  Just like the things I imagined for Puppy’s future.  You know the things you dream when you look down at them wrinkled and red in the hospital bundle?  President, Rock Star, Olympian . . .  There are no limits.  But then they grow and they become seperate people.  Not just the tiny little personifications of your daydreams.  They have dreams of their own.  And limitations. 

The last few weeks we’ve been beaten over the head with Puppy’s limitations.  I haven’t posted much lately because it’s really hard.  Hard to put into words how tired I am.  How scared I am.  How much I feel like a battered ship at sea.  And still, even after that, how I feel okay.  Not over the moon.  But okay.  Perhaps it’s a kind of numbness.  This week I’ve dealt with a boy who is afraid to go to sleep every night because he says all of his dreams are bad, a pediatrician’s office (who manages his medications) who’s front desk Barbie dolls could not care less, and all the regular things that life throws at you on a regular day, the bills, the work, the everyday stress.  There’s something going on with Puppy and we can’t figure out what it is.  He’s wound tight.  He’s on some sort of edge.  He’s been exhibiting Autistic traits that he’s never shown before like flapping his hands and traits that have been predictable but now are less so, like melting down into screams when stressed.  And I am at a loss.  I don’t really know what to do.  But then we’ll be driving down the road and we’ll have a conversation like the one about the solar system and I’ll feel okay, for just a minute.  Just for that minute I can see inside his world and understand him a little better.  And know that it’s going to be okay.  Like getting a glimpse of the light house on the horizon, even though I’ve got no way of knowing if our ship is gonna make it.  And I can’t catch my breath.  I keep listening to this Old 97s song and singing along . . . 

Pluck me from this driftwood Lord I’ll be a better man
Raise me from the deep sea in the palm of your great hand
Let me see tomorrow and I’ll try to understand
How the sinking of my little vessel fits into your plan

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 12th, 2009 at 5:30 am and is filed under Autism?. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.