Beauty in motion

I took Case to see Legendary Santa for a work event tonight. I was driving down W. Broad street playing PacMan with the cones and squinting through the windshield because I can't see a goddamn thing at night. Can anyone actually see well after 6PM these days? I swear we're all so lucky there aren't more car accidents because no one seems to know what the hell they're doing once the sun goes down. Lanes no longer exist. My car's personal space is non-existent. Merging is a life or death situation. Anyway, I'll stop ranting. I'm driving in the car thinking about how this is gonna go, planning the evening, devising the tactics I'll use once things go south. I have a package of toy horses in the car right now. He doesn't know about it, but it's my emergency pony pack. Case is really into horses these days and these plastic foals could end up saving lives. I've determined what I'll say once Case gets near Santa and how I'll inform them that Case won't answer the question "What do you want for Christmas?" We're just here for the picture and a little adventure.

And here's why it is so awesome to take a chance sometimes. The line for Santa was extremely long. No way Case could endure 45 minutes in a crowded room waiting patiently. I mean, how many "normal" kids could do that? So, we threw seeing Santa out the window. And you know what? The coolest thing happened. There was a really pretty carousel running toward the back of the museum. And what is Case really into these days? Horses. And can you imagine his face when he saw a giant circle of colorful horses that glide up and down alongside soft music and lighting?

You don't have to imagine. There's the video. It was so sweet. And he's so beautiful and his face and smile grab my heart and I want everything to be OK for him because he's absolutely wonderful and weird and pure. All our kids are.

We ended the evening with an exuberant Case yelling "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!" at everyone we passed on the way to the parking lot. Oh, and he called my boss's wife "Sugar." "Hi Sugar!" It was charming. He's charming.

Goodnight eveyone

I have to go see a man about a horse

I showed up at the house today to decorate the old Christmas tree. (Matt and I are divorced, if you weren't aware. But I wanted to mention this because otherwise half of what I write might not make sense. It's really OK, though. We are putting the kids first, spending all our weekends together with them, and getting along like mature adults should. Which is amazing for us).

Anyway, I was excited to get the kids involved now that Charly's getting older and Case is starting to understand more about Santa and some of the traditions. Don't ask me to explain Baby Jesus or Mary and Joseph to him because it would get weird really fast. If I put a manger scene in the house Case would have Baby Jesus tied down on one of his train tracks and he would show no mercy. My feet would start burning as Hell rises up to engulf me in flames. We're just sticking with the tree and presents for the moment.

I was reticent to bring anything breakable along -- in meltdown mode, Case will throw the nearest object. If he's anywhere near that tree, we're f****d. It would be like that scene in the movie "Dodgeball" when the old dude is throwing wrenches. I did buy a metallic tree with colorful ball ornaments. It was cute. I presented it to the kids and placed it on a side table. Case had those ornaments off in two minutes. I thought they were attached very well. But Case proved me wrong. Case had that tree figured out before I even took it out of the bag. He's like that. He's mechanically kinda brilliant. And it's fascinating to watch him when he's focused and tinkering with objects. Case will end up kicking ass in trade school if the horrible, awful system supposedly providing help for ASD kids (autism spectrum disorder) gets its act together and delivers the support he and other kids desperately need. But that's a whole other blog entry.

Communication was tough today. He was fixated on a horse and penguin I know nothing about. This is what the conversation was like all afternoon:

Case: Want to get horse and penguin.
Me: What horse and penguin?
Case: Want to get horse and penguin.
Me: Where are horse and penguin?
Case: Want to go for a ride and get horse and penguin.
Me: We're not going in the car today.
Case: (shrieking) WANT TO GET HORSE AND PENGUIN!
Me: Help mommy decorate the tree.
Case: (stands at front door while boring holes into my head with his heated stare)

I felt terrible. I wish to GOD I knew what he meant/what he wanted. It absolutely sucks. I am so sorry he can't communicate the way I do, and I wish I could communicate the way he does. Sometimes, it's amazing having a conversation with him. It's hilarious. For instance, over Thanksgiving, we had these exchanges:

Case: Want to go see Ron.
Me: Who is Ron?
Case: Who is the bear?

or

Case: Want to go to school
Me: It's nighttime. School is tomorrow. The bus will come in the morning.
Case: Going to school now (puts on backpack and stands at door)
Me: Case, you can see Ms. H tomorrow.
Case: Ms. H is a polar bear.

or

(in the car, Case is in the backseat)

Me: Case, do not hit your sister!
Case: (silence)
Me: Case.
Case: HOT DOG! WHO WANTS A HOT DOG!

Some days he communicates really well. Some days he repeats the same phrase over and over again to the point all your hair is on the floor. And not every day is an adventure. I didn't take him anywhere today so the odds of something insane happening were reduced at least 80%.

But this is a snapshot of the everyday stuff. Please excuse any grammatical/spelling/tense errors. I'm writing the exact words running through my brain, and it's late and I have to get up early and there's an infant just steps away who could wake up at any time. I'll go back and edit these when I have time. So never, probably. Thank you, as always, for reading.

--Ashly

Penguin

The first blog post is called "Penguin."

Why?

Because in the car ride on the way to our first stop on a little (weird) family tacky lights tour this evening, I asked my six-year-old son, Case, how he was doing in the back seat.

He yelled back "Penguin!!"

And so when it came down to what I should name my first blog post, nothing came to mind. No title made sense. Sort of like "penguin."

Raising a six-year-old son with autism is absolutely hilarious. Absolutely exasperating. Absolutely heartbreaking. Absolutely wonderful. Absolutely chaotic.

Example in point -- Tonight. When we're leaving a beautifully lit up holiday home and a total meltdown ensues. Luckily, Case always saves the worst for the largest crowds.

The writhing boy was slung over dad's shoulders, but not before managing to rip off his slip on red Lightning McQueen shoes and launching them across the roped off front yard display which contained approximately eight thousand twinkling polar bears, reindeer, candy canes and some inexplicable rubber duckies. The crowd around us started murmuring, and staring, and laughing.

I immediately thought "OK, I'll come back tomorrow morning and ring their doorbell and recite my usual speech when weird shit happens and retrieve the shoes then."

Luckily, my three-year-old daughter, while a big fat liar, is also an adult sometimes and processed the situation immediately. She darted across the Christmas land mine yard and retrieved the shoes without fanfare.

We did our usual getaway car exit with everyone running down the driveway and flinging themselves into the vehicle while fumbling with keys, coats, phones, seat belts, car seats, baby bottles, pills, you name it. Usually we forget something like a full coffee cup on the car roof, or a purse in the grass. But tonight it was dark so I don't know what we lost. Other than our dignity. And almost some shoes.

This is just a taste of the circus. I'm going to spend some time updating the blog with things I have written in the past, along with things I have been saving for the right time. Thank you for reading this first entry. This story is just the norm. I kind of love it.

-Ashly