hope
Still looking
I spent the past day and a half in Austin. Every time I go, I meet the nicest, smartest, most compassionate people.
The kind of people that wouldn’t string out our kids for the sake of politics, the kind of people that wouldn’t balance the budget on the most fragile in our state.
But there is a crack in the universe there somewhere, you know, I know it. It’s the one where all the other people in Austin apparently are, the ones that make some of the stupidest public policies ever.
I haven’t found it yet.
Merry PianoChristmas
Almost two years ago, I sent my little upright grand for an extreme makeover, Philip Williams-style. Today, I received an e-mail that my old friend is ready to come home.
Let the carols begin.
Emotional IQ
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.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #39
(coming soon to an office near you … hardware tech superman)
Sam: How hard is it to work with MIDI devices?
Peggy: What?
Sam: I figured out how to load the Apple DLS sound font with SimpleSynth.
Peggy: What?
Wisdom matters
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.
Inch worm
Yesterday, at Walk Now for Autism Speaks, I was able to introduce a lot of people to Texas Parent-to-Parent, and that was very gratifying. More gratifying was that some people had heard of TxP2P already. Our concerted outreach effort is making progress.
Most gratifying was that some people already knew about my book. That wasn’t part of the promo package yesterday, but when people would ask about the play-dough, I’d direct them to the recipe (in anticipation of the question I’d already posted it, just a bit lower on this blog) and the book would come up.
Just like raising Sam, progress is made inch by inch.
A better idea
Sometimes we look askance at parents who put their baby’s name on a waiting list for a prestigious preschool before they are even born.
As if the path to adult success is really that narrow.
Yet, if your child is born with a lifelong condition that will affect their ability to care for themselves, such as Down’s syndrome or autism, parents are encouraged to “guess” what services they might need later in life and put them on a waiting list for services. Those lists, in Texas, are DECADES long.
And recently, Texas created pilot projects for MORE waiting lists for services.
The whole thing is a farce.
Last weekend, at the Njoy Foundation conference, Resources for Parents, I learned about a statewide group that is trying to change the model for Texas. With a bad budget year, they have a mighty, uphill battle.
But it’s got to happen. Last year, 53 people died in state institutions of preventable causes, including one person at the Lubbock facility who was suffocated while being restrained. Of course, nearly every one knows about the notorious “fight clubs” organized by some of the staff at the Corpus Christi facility because one of them recorded the fights on a cellphone.
The Department of Justice has been monitoring Texas facilities for rampant civil rights violations.
To learn more about this group that’s promoting inclusive communities — which means the money follows the client rather than the other way around — visit their website: www.communitynowfreedom.com.
The best humble pie
Last night, I shed some major baggage thanks to Sam. We’d spent a long day helping out at a community event. He wanted to say good-bye to one of the organizers because “she’s a very nice lady.”
She’s also very pretty. Sam, like any red-blooded fellow, likes a pretty woman. I teased her husband just a little bit.
“Watch out,” I said.
There was an awkward pause, and then Sam said, “He doesn’t need to watch out.”
Oh, don’t even bother cutting up the crow, just hand it over and I’ll stuff it in there with my foot.
All of my children are gentle souls who have a great deal of respect for personal boundaries. Unlike their father, who was a gentle soul, too, but struggled mightily to keep boundaries where they belong.
I learned last night I don’t own their father’s errors. Not in the least. In fact, I don’t need to watch out at all.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #33
Sam: What are you doing tomorrow?
Peggy: During the day — not much.
Sam: I get home from work at 2:30. What will you be doing then?
Peggy: Probably outside working in the yard.
Sam: I want to show you Reality Check.
Peggy: Okay.
Sam: It’s time. It’s time to make my major official.
Corpus Christi Report
I love the mind-meld that happens when everyone whose been in the trenches talks amongst themselves, as just happened last weekend at the Texas State Autism Conference. Great things can happen when everyone not only comes together and keeps together, but also works together.
There is a lot of work to be done for kids that are transitioning to colleges and the work force, but we’ll get there.
Perhaps the crisp blue skies, white clouds, and fresh, sweet air got to my head, but I think all things are possible again.