You say tomato, I say tomahto, basically means, that not matter how you say the word tomato, it is still a tomato, but, what I want to know is, who actually ever says "tomahto"? I recognize that I certainly am not the most cultured or well traveled woman in the world, but, I have several friends who grew up in various countries, speaking various languages with various accents and I have never, ever heard any of them, or anyone at all for that matter, call a tomato a tomahto. I get the meaning, boy do I get the meaning, because most days as I'm getting Ryan out the door for school I think, "his routine, my routine", tomato, tomahto...no matter how you say it, it has the exact same meaning which basically translates to, never stray from the routine unless you want a rotten tomato, tomahto thrown at your head.
Groundhog Day, Columbia Pictures "His routine, my routine" is a little like Bill Murray's routine in the movie Groundhog Day. Bill Murray stars as Phil Connors, an arrogant, big wig meteorologist who is sent to check out good old Punxsutawney Phil for Groundhog Day, an assignment Phil believes is soooo... beneath him. In a weird twist of fate, or perhaps karma, Phil wakes up every single day at the exact time and repeats the same day....Groundhog Day, over and over and over again. This repetitive monotony for Phil Connors seems to be a sort of punishment, or purgatory if you will, for belittling the importance of the Groundhog Day routine as well as his dismissive attitude towards the repetitious, humdrum, doesn't quite get them, folks of Punxsutawney, PA.
Every morning, Phil wakes up at the exact same time, takes the exact same freezing cold shower, is greeted by the exact same woman, has the exact same cup of coffee and heads out the door to the exact same place, Gobbler's Knob, to give the exact same weather report over and over and over again. AWEnestly, Bill Murray's got nothing over on me....except maybe some hazy, drug induced memories of the 1970's. For a mom loving my AWEsome son, who craves routine like Punxsutawney Phil craves the privacy and media free seclusion of his groundhog hole and an additional six weeks of winter so he can go back to sleep, Ryan's routines and rituals have become my routines and rituals. Tomato, tomahto.
Every morning, Phil wakes up at the exact same time, takes the exact same freezing cold shower, is greeted by the exact same woman, has the exact same cup of coffee and heads out the door to the exact same place, Gobbler's Knob, to give the exact same weather report over and over and over again. AWEnestly, Bill Murray's got nothing over on me....except maybe some hazy, drug induced memories of the 1970's. For a mom loving my AWEsome son, who craves routine like Punxsutawney Phil craves the privacy and media free seclusion of his groundhog hole and an additional six weeks of winter so he can go back to sleep, Ryan's routines and rituals have become my routines and rituals. Tomato, tomahto.
My alarm goes off at 6:15 every morning, I hit the snooze (much to my light sleeper husband's dismay), then finally roll out of bed with the second alarm squeals and here is how Ryan's routine, my routine goes:
6:20-I wake Ryan up to groans of "I'm still tired."
6:28-In a hushed, but, yelling voice, I tell/yell for Ryan to hurry up or he will miss the bus (missing the bus is a fear much scarier than a groundhog's shadow).
6:30-Feed Ryan a sugar filled breakfast of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Welch's Grape Juice (only the kind with high fructose corn syrup...I tried the others, he noticed, I got reprimanded) in the same glass and the same bowl, every single morning.
6:32-Pack Ryan's lunch...cheese sandwich (two pieces of Land O' Lakes Cheese, no substitutes acceptable, a light spread of Hellman's Mayonnaise, again, no substitutes allowed) cut into triangles (never, ever, ever rectangles), grapes (not too many, not too few...it's a gamble), Pringles (I have figured out how many by the feel of them in my fingers), Jello Vanilla Pudding (another food where a brand substitute would not be acceptable), a plastic spoon, and a juice bag, one of three choices are acceptable.
6:43-I'm called to "catch" his clothes which he tosses over the two story foyer railing for me to "heat up" in the dryer on high heat, not medium, not low for 3 minutes, not 4, not 5, and especially not 2 (trust me he can tell).
6:46-Deliver warmed up clothes to Ryan which I tuck inside my shirt to retain the heat so as to avoid another 30 second warm up if the clothes are deemed "freezing".
6:48-Untie Ryan's shoes (which are easily a size too small, but, he refuses to wear a new pair), set them at the bottom of the step with lunch bag and gym bag.
6:50-Ryan comes downstairs, backpack in hand, sits on the bottom step, not the second, not the third, puts his lunch box in his backpack, puts his left shoe on (never, ever the right one first, "it doesn't feel right"), I help him tie his shoes even though he can now finally do it himself, but, they just "stay better" when I do it.
6:51-Ryan puts his coat on (the exact same coat all year long regardless of season), if it's too warm, he still gets the coat, covers up with it, while I wrap a towel around his neck and use a wet brush (never, ever a dry brush, even though ironically, once upon a time it could never, ever be a wet brush), and brush his hear.
6:52-Depart for the bus stop, by jumping in the van to drive one block (bugs and inclement weather makes that one block feel like one mile).
6:53-Bus arrives, I am kissed and hugged twice, unless he is mad at me for not fully heating his clothes properly or running out of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and off he goes.
His routine, my routine. Tomato, tomahto.
6:20-I wake Ryan up to groans of "I'm still tired."
6:28-In a hushed, but, yelling voice, I tell/yell for Ryan to hurry up or he will miss the bus (missing the bus is a fear much scarier than a groundhog's shadow).
6:30-Feed Ryan a sugar filled breakfast of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Welch's Grape Juice (only the kind with high fructose corn syrup...I tried the others, he noticed, I got reprimanded) in the same glass and the same bowl, every single morning.
6:32-Pack Ryan's lunch...cheese sandwich (two pieces of Land O' Lakes Cheese, no substitutes acceptable, a light spread of Hellman's Mayonnaise, again, no substitutes allowed) cut into triangles (never, ever, ever rectangles), grapes (not too many, not too few...it's a gamble), Pringles (I have figured out how many by the feel of them in my fingers), Jello Vanilla Pudding (another food where a brand substitute would not be acceptable), a plastic spoon, and a juice bag, one of three choices are acceptable.
6:43-I'm called to "catch" his clothes which he tosses over the two story foyer railing for me to "heat up" in the dryer on high heat, not medium, not low for 3 minutes, not 4, not 5, and especially not 2 (trust me he can tell).
6:46-Deliver warmed up clothes to Ryan which I tuck inside my shirt to retain the heat so as to avoid another 30 second warm up if the clothes are deemed "freezing".
6:48-Untie Ryan's shoes (which are easily a size too small, but, he refuses to wear a new pair), set them at the bottom of the step with lunch bag and gym bag.
6:50-Ryan comes downstairs, backpack in hand, sits on the bottom step, not the second, not the third, puts his lunch box in his backpack, puts his left shoe on (never, ever the right one first, "it doesn't feel right"), I help him tie his shoes even though he can now finally do it himself, but, they just "stay better" when I do it.
6:51-Ryan puts his coat on (the exact same coat all year long regardless of season), if it's too warm, he still gets the coat, covers up with it, while I wrap a towel around his neck and use a wet brush (never, ever a dry brush, even though ironically, once upon a time it could never, ever be a wet brush), and brush his hear.
6:52-Depart for the bus stop, by jumping in the van to drive one block (bugs and inclement weather makes that one block feel like one mile).
6:53-Bus arrives, I am kissed and hugged twice, unless he is mad at me for not fully heating his clothes properly or running out of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and off he goes.
His routine, my routine. Tomato, tomahto.
When Ryan was little, his need for routine and sameness AWEnestly freaked me out. Back then, Denial was whispering in my ear, "It's not a strict adherence to rituals and routines like the DSM-IV described as a risk factor for "The A Word", Ryan is just stubborn and likes things HIS way." Clueless and Denial would then bully me and say, "Wrestle that new coat on Ryan and MAKE him wear it, you paid all that money for it, so he HAS to wear it." Of course I listened to my so called, "friends" and the end result would be both Ryan and I in tears while Denial and Clueless just "tsk, tsk, tsk'ed" me from across the room and the coat remained crumpled on the floor as useless and discarded as I felt. Denial and Clueless also use to grocery shop with us and one day, Denial said, "Just skip aisle 5 and go right from aisle 4 to aisle 6 because you don't need anything in aisle 5 and Ryan has to get over it." Listening to my not so well intended friends, I skipped aisle 5, much to the dismay of every shopper in aisles 3 through 7 who became officially hearing impaired by the time I returned to aisle 5. His routine, my routine. Tomato, tomahto.
Ryan's need for routine, his desire for Groundhog Day, helps him predict a very unpredictable world. When Ryan doesn't know what vague, unpredictable, fictional assignment he will receive in English class, knowing that right after English, he will find a cheese sandwich cut in triangles with just the right amount of grapes and Pringles in his lunch box, helps balance out Ryan's world. Walking out the door into a world that is confusing and filled with bees, thunderstorms and bullies, wearing one of five soft, cotton tshirts, and the same broken in too small shoes, makes taking on that scary world a little less frightening.
We all have our routines and rituals. We all have our Groundhog Day days, yet, sometimes, even the most tedious of routines provides us with a sense of comfort. You could probably make it through your day without that must have morning cup of Joe, but, you might be an intolerable bear to all your co-workers who immediately start a central line of coffee for you desk side. For Ryan and kids and adults living with an ASD, that cup of Joe is a necessity to survive Groundhog Day, no matter how tedious and inconsequential it may seem to an outsider looking in.
We all have our routines and rituals. We all have our Groundhog Day days, yet, sometimes, even the most tedious of routines provides us with a sense of comfort. You could probably make it through your day without that must have morning cup of Joe, but, you might be an intolerable bear to all your co-workers who immediately start a central line of coffee for you desk side. For Ryan and kids and adults living with an ASD, that cup of Joe is a necessity to survive Groundhog Day, no matter how tedious and inconsequential it may seem to an outsider looking in.
The term "Groundhog Day" has become known as a sort of negative connotation. The mundane, boring, predictable tasks of life. In fact, "Groundhog Day" has become military lingo for soldiers who have had multiple tours of duty in the same country, fighting the same war. Ryan may not be traveling roads decimated by years of war, with the threat of an aggressive attack around every corner, but, in Ryan's mind, putting his left shoe on first, eating the same lunch every single day, and wearing the same five shirts day in and day out, is as essential for his survival as a flak jacket in the middle of an unpredictable, unstable, war torn country.
In the movie, Groundhog Day, Phil Connors had to relive Groundhog Day over and over again because he didn't "get it". To Phil, the meaningless routines and rituals of Groundhog Day were ludicrous and a complete waste of his precious, valuable time, so Phil's form of purgatory was to relive Groundhog Day over and over again until he did "get it". Until Phil recognized the importance of this day, of these rituals and routines to the folks of Punxsutawney PA, he would never be fully vested in his assignment. Once Phil got it, once he understood, he was able to see the significance, the joy, and the pride of Groundhog Day for people he once did not understand.
Denial and Clueless kept me from seeing the importance of routine for Ryan. His routine, my routine, tomato, tomahto, once felt like Groundhog Day to me. There are still moments where I think, "Can you please just eat/wear/do something different?", but, once I see the fear and anxiety cross his beautiful, trusting eyes, I realize that I'm no better than Phil Connors. This is my assignment, one that I have been fortunate enough to cover and report on. Now that I "get it", I do respect Ryan's need for routine, but, if I'm AWEnest, I still try to occasionally switch things up a bit, because sadly, there are a lot of Phil Connors in the world who will not get the importance of a cheese sandwich cut into triangles, so it's just as important that Ryan "gets" that too.
So, no matter how you say it, his routine, my routine, I'm just so grateful that I'm the lucky one who gets to make the cheese sandwich, with two slices of Land O' Lakes White (never, ever orange) American Cheese, a thin layer of Hellman's Mayonnaise (never, ever the light mayo), cut into perfectly symmetrical triangles (never, ever a rectangle, a square, or some weird sandwich cutter shape) and always without fail, no matter what....always, always hold the tomato, tomahto.
Denial and Clueless kept me from seeing the importance of routine for Ryan. His routine, my routine, tomato, tomahto, once felt like Groundhog Day to me. There are still moments where I think, "Can you please just eat/wear/do something different?", but, once I see the fear and anxiety cross his beautiful, trusting eyes, I realize that I'm no better than Phil Connors. This is my assignment, one that I have been fortunate enough to cover and report on. Now that I "get it", I do respect Ryan's need for routine, but, if I'm AWEnest, I still try to occasionally switch things up a bit, because sadly, there are a lot of Phil Connors in the world who will not get the importance of a cheese sandwich cut into triangles, so it's just as important that Ryan "gets" that too.
So, no matter how you say it, his routine, my routine, I'm just so grateful that I'm the lucky one who gets to make the cheese sandwich, with two slices of Land O' Lakes White (never, ever orange) American Cheese, a thin layer of Hellman's Mayonnaise (never, ever the light mayo), cut into perfectly symmetrical triangles (never, ever a rectangle, a square, or some weird sandwich cutter shape) and always without fail, no matter what....always, always hold the tomato, tomahto.
The only thing worse than six more weeks of winter, is an empty Pringles can on a school day.
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