I can't believe it's August already. If it weren't for the Back to School newspaper ads, the pre-season football discussions at the breakfast table and the Christmas ornaments hanging in the Hallmark store (seriously?) I would think summer hadn't even begun. After all, the weather in the Northeast has been crap...many gray, dreary and below average temperature days has made it feel like summer barely glanced us by. With the addition of a new puppy, we have had a stay-cation this year, and a summer without the beach just doesn't feel like summer at all. Regardless of how much time Denial has plopped her butt poolside next to me, holding her umbrella and wearing her lightweight jacket, the inevitable fact is, summer is slowly coming to an end. The sun is setting earlier, the glow of the fireflies are becoming dimmer and my children are making me f***ing nuts.
I have a love-hate relationship with the routine-less days of summer. I love the no homework, no official bedtime and no 6:30 AM wake up call that summer time brings. I love the relaxed, lower stress level the kids exude when slugging on the couch, wearing jammies until after lunch and not worrying about what's due next. My heart fills with pride on the rare occassions when all three of them are out just past dusk playing baseball in the backyard with no screams of "cheater" or "I quit" as I sit swaying on the porch swing listening to the crickets and locusts sing their summer song. There is, however, a downside to this summer free for all.
I despise SpongeBob's annoying cackle blaring from my family room television 24/7 regardless if anyone is in the room or not. It kills me that the kids graze all day and constantly complain that "there is nothing to eat here". This cattle like grazing means we are always out of food, I am constantly taking out the trash (our garbage can is invisible to anyone who has not grown a child in their uterus) and the dishwasher never stops running....ever. I struggle several times a day to maintain my sanity as well as my voice as I constantly yell, "hands off" or "stop fighting" or my all time favorite, "close the freaking door" as the back porch is cooled off by the air conditioning. For kids who wait all school year for summer, it makes my skin crawl to hear them sigh, "I'm bored", which translates to "let's go somewhere and spend money". I think all those child experts who claim children need routine are absolutely right, but children don't need routine nearly as much as good old mom.....unless of course said child has an Autism Spectrum Diagnosis. I'm not sure who will jump for joy higher on August 26th when that school bell rings, Ryan or me.
I despise SpongeBob's annoying cackle blaring from my family room television 24/7 regardless if anyone is in the room or not. It kills me that the kids graze all day and constantly complain that "there is nothing to eat here". This cattle like grazing means we are always out of food, I am constantly taking out the trash (our garbage can is invisible to anyone who has not grown a child in their uterus) and the dishwasher never stops running....ever. I struggle several times a day to maintain my sanity as well as my voice as I constantly yell, "hands off" or "stop fighting" or my all time favorite, "close the freaking door" as the back porch is cooled off by the air conditioning. For kids who wait all school year for summer, it makes my skin crawl to hear them sigh, "I'm bored", which translates to "let's go somewhere and spend money". I think all those child experts who claim children need routine are absolutely right, but children don't need routine nearly as much as good old mom.....unless of course said child has an Autism Spectrum Diagnosis. I'm not sure who will jump for joy higher on August 26th when that school bell rings, Ryan or me.
Ryan also has a love-hate relationship with his routine-less summer time routine. Ryan is the first one to celebrate no homework, but the first one to claim he is bored when he is forced to step away from the video game controller or his Ipod battery is dead. Ryan loves staying up late, sleeping in, swimming, and whining for food since he is always "starving". This food he whines for is usually served following the words, "Can I take your order please?". Ryan also lives for the television shows that those oh, so smart television programmers save for only summertime (Total Drama Island, Avatar, etc) in order to load up my DVR and save no room for the higher intellect shows like True Blood. The downside for Ryan, which he may or may not get, is that with no school routine, Ryan tends to be a bit edgier, a little less understanding and a little less "checked in". Days without school sometimes make the days of summer very, very long.
Although the school day routine has long since faded from his memory, Ryan still runs a pretty tight ship during the summer months. He typically wakes up around 8 AM, barks out a "Can I have some Cinnamon Toast Crunch please?" (don't judge, that sugary sweetness is gooooood). A bowl of cereal and a glass of Welch's grape juice is served to him at the family room coffee table thanks to our new vicious puppy trapped in the kitchen (yes, I know grape juice stains are tough to get out of carpet fibers, but I'm also keenly aware of the permanent hearing damage that will occur if I force my son to partake his meal with Cujo). This is followed by some video game time, maybe some piano practice and then lo and behold it's time to eat again. For Ryan's lunch order, a grilled cheese sandwich (not too brown, with Giant's Italian Bread with seeds and Land O Lakes White American Cheese....never, ever yellow or orange cheese), fruit and a juice bag. This menu never, ever varies, unless of course there is leftover pizza which must only be heated in the oven so it tastes "fresh"). Ryan's afternoon may be filled with swimming (as long as it's over 80 degrees, the sun is shining and there aren't too many "annoying" people in the pool) then maybe some Legos, a little SpongeBob and typically a little more game time before dinner. After Ryan picks one of the five things he eats for dinner, he typically fills his evenings with the same activities he does during the day with an occasional family outing to see a movie, go bowling or take the puppy for a walk (he remains 15 feet behind the puppy at all times). Go to bed, repeat.
The one day Ryan breaks from his routine-less summer routine is shockingly his favorite day of the week and AWEnestly, half the reason he loves summer. It is the one day of the week I dread and Ryan lives for...grocery shopping day. Blah. And if I just happen to actually look at a recipe and plan a meal or two thus needing an actual grocery list, well then, my boy is utterly jubilant. Typically, Wednesday morning is grocery shopping day and if I have to vary that schedule for any reason, you can bet I'm going to hear about it....repeatedly. If Ryan is at camp in the morning, then I may not even entertain the idea of going grocery shopping until camp is finished. This late day shopping trip usually "tortures" Ryan for fear his chosen bakery donuts will be gone, or heaven forbid, not fresh. Yes friends, grocery shopping Wednesday leads to Donut Thursday and that is Ryan's second favorite day of the week.
For many summers, I believed Ryan's gleeful grocery shopping adventures were a direct result of what was going in the cart, donuts, Vitamin Water, "fresh" fruit off the salad bar and the bulk candy. However, it took one memory lapse of spaghetti noodles for me to figure out that although Ryan certainly enjoyed what went in the cart, how it got in the cart was equally important. "Shoot, I forgot the spaghetti.", I mumbled. "I will get the spaghetti from aisle 9 Mom.", Ryan responded eagerly. Aisle 9? How did he know what aisle the spaghetti was in? I had been shopping in that grocery store for over ten years and if a gun was held to my head I would not have been able to say which aisle one could find spaghetti. Then it hit me like a donut filled shopping cart. For a boy who loves order, routine and everything being in it's assigned location, the grocery store is like Ryan's Mecca.
The grocery store has labeled aisles with everything right where the signs say they should be. The spaghetti is always in aisle 9 and the cereal is in aisle 4 (I just asked him and I'd bet all the donuts in the world he is right). Rarely does the grocery store logistics and routine change and so I learned when shopping with Ryan, my routine better not change either. Once when Ryan was little I skipped aisle 5. I remember this because he screamed, and I mean screamed, "5, 5, 5, 5" until I turned around and went down aisle 5 where Denial was stocking the shelves. I threw a jar of spaghetti sauce at her head. Yes, I should have known then, that skipping aisle 5 should not lead to such an ear splitting melt down, but I assured myself and Denial, that Ryan just really wanted whatever the he** was in aisle 5, regardless if it was the feminine hygiene aisle. You might be wondering, "Well what about the end caps that are always changing with the weekly Bonus Buys or Dollar Deals?". Well, you see dear friend, the end caps always change...they are SUPPOSE to change, so it does not matter what the end cap contains, what matters is that there is not a sign proclaiming spaghetti will be there and it's not. Routine and sameness make my boy so very happy.
The grocery store has labeled aisles with everything right where the signs say they should be. The spaghetti is always in aisle 9 and the cereal is in aisle 4 (I just asked him and I'd bet all the donuts in the world he is right). Rarely does the grocery store logistics and routine change and so I learned when shopping with Ryan, my routine better not change either. Once when Ryan was little I skipped aisle 5. I remember this because he screamed, and I mean screamed, "5, 5, 5, 5" until I turned around and went down aisle 5 where Denial was stocking the shelves. I threw a jar of spaghetti sauce at her head. Yes, I should have known then, that skipping aisle 5 should not lead to such an ear splitting melt down, but I assured myself and Denial, that Ryan just really wanted whatever the he** was in aisle 5, regardless if it was the feminine hygiene aisle. You might be wondering, "Well what about the end caps that are always changing with the weekly Bonus Buys or Dollar Deals?". Well, you see dear friend, the end caps always change...they are SUPPOSE to change, so it does not matter what the end cap contains, what matters is that there is not a sign proclaiming spaghetti will be there and it's not. Routine and sameness make my boy so very happy.
Kids with an ASD not only crave routine, they survive by it. When children with autism struggle to process all the sensory stimuli bombarding them throughout the day, routine gives them a feeling of security. For kids on the autism spectrum every day feels like a loud, bright, painfully distorted funhouse. Having a routine helps impose order in such a chaotic world. Grocery shopping on Thursday instead of Wednesday not only gives Ryan cause for alarm that perhaps a different, less capable donut baker may be on duty that day, but, for him, that variation in routine would be like ripping Linus' blanket away from him when the Great Pumpkin fails to show....again. As Ryan's neurotypical (yet clearly certifiable) mother, I don't have to understand why routines help him, I just have to try and find a balance between his routines that make him feel secure and safe, and preparing him for all the times the world will repeatedly rip his security blanket right out from under him....Great Pumpkin or no Great Pumpkin.
When Ryan was little and we would be reading a book together, I would have to read the book the EXACT same way (same silly voice, same inflection, same goofy sound effects, same rhythm) every single time. If not, Ryan would yell, "No, no, no again!" and he would promptly grab the book and we would have to start over. Every. Single. Time. This "routine" caused me to drink more wine and consume more Ibuprofen, but, it also raised a red flag, somewhere in the deep, dark, recesses of my mind. A place I was not ready to go to because, sadly, as we read those books over and over again, Denial was still sitting on the other side of me encouraging me to start the book from the beginning again because I was the best mother book reader ever. To this day, when I read those same books to Emma, I read them EXACTLY like I did with Ryan. PTSD or a gentle reminder of a time when Denial held my hand and comforted me? Probably a little of both.
In a world that moves too fast, talks too loud and offers little predictability, it's no wonder Ryan loves his weekly pilgrimage to the organized, reliable grocery store. Yes, the donuts and all things sugar are a bonus, but knowing that the things he loves, the things that make him smile, will always be in the same place in the same order, well that's just the icing on the cake, or should I say donut. So for anyone out shopping at our local Giant (sorry Wegmans, your aisles are too scattered and don't flow well and not to mention your donuts "suck") if you can't remember what aisle the ketchup is in, feel free to stop us, because rest assured Ryan will know. And if you just happen to be behind us in Aisle 4 when Ryan spots an empty space where the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal is suppose to be, plug your ears and shield your children, because there is going to be hell to pay.
In a world that moves too fast, talks too loud and offers little predictability, it's no wonder Ryan loves his weekly pilgrimage to the organized, reliable grocery store. Yes, the donuts and all things sugar are a bonus, but knowing that the things he loves, the things that make him smile, will always be in the same place in the same order, well that's just the icing on the cake, or should I say donut. So for anyone out shopping at our local Giant (sorry Wegmans, your aisles are too scattered and don't flow well and not to mention your donuts "suck") if you can't remember what aisle the ketchup is in, feel free to stop us, because rest assured Ryan will know. And if you just happen to be behind us in Aisle 4 when Ryan spots an empty space where the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal is suppose to be, plug your ears and shield your children, because there is going to be hell to pay.
As the summer days slowly become shorter and the kids begin starving for routine again, moms and dads will gleefully swipe the credit card for back to school supplies. And although the late nights and lazy mornings are quickly coming to an end, the school routine will make us all breath a little sigh of relief as order will once again, be restored to the universe, or at the very least, to the family room. And as you are back to school shopping if you happen to hear a child scream, "aisle 5, aisle 5, aisle 5" and observe a beaten down mother quickly turn her cart back to aisle 5, give her an encouraging smile and keep in mind that kids on the autism spectrum may have routines that vary from our own, but that does not make their routines any less important. In fact, their routine makes an intolerable world survivable.
Whether your routine is cracking open an ice cold beer after a long day at work, always checking your lipstick in the rear view mirror before exiting your car or grocery shopping on Wednesdays at a highly organized, rarely changing, great donut baking grocery store, some type of routine is important to all of us. And if someone who was unaware of your routine came up and ripped your ice cold beer from your hand or covered your rear view mirror with duct tape, you would go ballistic and rightfully so. As neurotypicals, we don't have to understand or be able to explain the extreme need for routine for kids on the autism spectrum, we only have to accept it. Just like we must accept that summer is winding down and long nights filled with homework, sporting events and endless activities is quickly approaching. Yes, the routine-less summer routine is ending, so grab a donut and your security blanket, because CHANGE is just over the horizon. Lord, help me I hate the C word, but not nearly as much as Ryan.
Whether your routine is cracking open an ice cold beer after a long day at work, always checking your lipstick in the rear view mirror before exiting your car or grocery shopping on Wednesdays at a highly organized, rarely changing, great donut baking grocery store, some type of routine is important to all of us. And if someone who was unaware of your routine came up and ripped your ice cold beer from your hand or covered your rear view mirror with duct tape, you would go ballistic and rightfully so. As neurotypicals, we don't have to understand or be able to explain the extreme need for routine for kids on the autism spectrum, we only have to accept it. Just like we must accept that summer is winding down and long nights filled with homework, sporting events and endless activities is quickly approaching. Yes, the routine-less summer routine is ending, so grab a donut and your security blanket, because CHANGE is just over the horizon. Lord, help me I hate the C word, but not nearly as much as Ryan.
The last bubbles of summer. Sigh
RSS Feed
