Royalty check

By Peggy | November 25, 2010 |

Before anyone thinks you automatically get rich writing books, let’s just say my latest royalty check for “See Sam Run” would not quite cover the cost to fill the tank next time I’m at the gas station.

But I was thrilled to see it on the plus side, rather than the other way around (deficit for returns). The book is still selling, which says something.

Plus, I sleep well at night knowing this kind of royalty isn’t my take in a zero-sum game.

Posted in Uncategorized

Road trip

By Peggy | November 24, 2010 |

I’ve been experimenting with leaving Sam on his own for a couple of days, just to see how he holds up. Dishes get washed, and animals get fed, house stays clean. He even went to the post office and picked up the mail and collected all the newspapers. This is good.

We shop before I go so that he can cook for himself, but he doesn’t. This time, I made a pile of sausage kolaches before I left. That was supposed to be breakfast. He just told me that was pretty much what he ate while we were gone — he made neither the spaghetti nor the pizza — both of which he’s made many times on his own for family meals.

When your toddler has autism, sometimes it’s hard to discern which is which. For example, was that temper tantrum the sign of something that needs to be addressed, or was it just your run-of-the-mill hissy fit?

I feel like I’m right back there again. Do I worry that this is a sign of self-help skills that need shoring up, or is he just being a bachelor?

Posted in adults with autism

Emotional IQ

By Peggy | November 17, 2010 |

Sam and I had the most amazing exchange this morning, one that belongs in some kind of magazine about how mature people should deal with powerful emotions.

First, you’ve got to set a stage for two people completely, utterly and totally misunderstanding each other. We’d both just gotten up — and neither of us are morning people. Plus, I had had only a sip or two of the morning joe, so that’s two strikes against me.

Sam was opening a vitamin jar to get a tablet out and suddenly it just flew from his hand and rolled on the floor. I didn’t see any of this. I just heard him yell “OH!” so loud adrenaline rushed to my nerve endings, so full and fast that it hurt my fingertips.

I thought my reaction was amazingly calm, considering. I turned around, puzzled that nothing seemed to be wrong, and said, “Don’t yell so loud in the house.”

That upset Sam terribly. He left the room.

A few minutes later, he told me that my comment made him feel like a little kid again and brought back bad childhood memories. That brought tears to my eyes. I tried to apologize for the comment, but Sam said we shouldn’t talk about it anymore, since it was about to make me cry.

I told him no, please, I welcomed the chance to say I’m sorry not only for hurting his feelings today, but also for any bad childhood memories and we could talk a little more if he wanted.

Sam said he remembered misbehaving, and it was in the past and it could stay in the past. I told him I thought that was very mature.

Then I said, you know, I didn’t know why you yelled so loud. I thought I needed to call 911 or something. He explained what happened, I told him I understood now why he yelled, and then he said he understood why I felt like I needed to say something about the yelling.

What Sam brought to the conversation that was so amazing was believing me when I said I loved him and never wanted to hurt him. That was part of my apology. I told him that it’s important to me to stick up for myself, and I’ve noticed that when someone sticks up for themselves, it can be hard to do without hurting the other person sometimes.

The whole conversation took all of 10 minutes and brought me such a sense of wonderment. I’m still trying to figure out where this supposed lack of social understanding comes from in people with autism. Sam is so clear-eyed and clear-headed. His father and I could not have had such a conversation early in our marriage. Even later in our marriage, it would take two hours to wade through all the emotional thicket to get to the same place.

I think it’s the opposite. I think the rest of us lack emotional intelligence. We play stupid mental games with each other, and we don’t trust each other.

When Sam doesn’t trust someone, he just doesn’t deal with them at all. How smart is that?

Any girl would be lucky to have him.

Posted in adults with autism, hope, love, self-advocacy, social life

Overheard in the Wolfe House #40

By Peggy | November 15, 2010 |

Sam: I haven’t been able to eat peanut-butter-and-jelly for a long time.
Peggy: Really? We have all kinds of them (opening refrigerator to show) — fig, apricot, pear, lemon. (pause, realizing he doesn’t like any of those). I’ve been meaning to make more raspberry jam.
Sam: I know. But you’ve been taking a really long time.

Posted in What Sam says

Wisdom matters

By Peggy | November 10, 2010 |

There’s been chatter among researchers about the benefit of wisdom in their work — the balancing of your own interests, with the interests of others, and the interests of the community (even God, or the environment).

I think it’s kind of funny that the new thing isn’t the latest, greatest technique or protocol, but this old thing called wisdom.

Now that I’m 50, of course, I understand the implications much more than when I was a desperate young mom of 27. Creativity matters still, but I’ve learned to fold other considerations when figuring out what it takes to solve a problem or make progress on a project.

Especially when it comes to supporting my kids as they launch their own lives.

I’m not talking about a “been there, done that” attitude, or excess skepticism, either, but a vigorous way of seeing things fresh, without throwing away all that you’ve learned so far. There really is no place to stand except on the shoulders of the people who’ve come before you.

What wisdom can I give Sam and his support team as he makes this transition from school-to-work? Much of that wisdom is already his, perhaps its better for me to help him see it in himself. Really, how is it different than the support Michael needs, or Paige for that matter? Except that Sam might have a little more trouble than most of us at deciphering the social codes of the “job hunt.”

I think it’s time to pick up a fresh edition of What Color is Your Parachute? and reacquaint myself with that old wisdom.

Posted in decision-making, hope, problem-solving, self-advocacy