I stepped outside last week and I finally had to accept it, regardless of how much it hurt to think it, how much it hurt to admit it and how much it hurts to write it, fall is really here. Boo! When I took the puppy out for his nighttime ritual, the smell of fall was in the air. It was a crisp, cool night, the leaves were crinkling under my feet and the crickets were singing what must surely be their summer encore. The smell of sunscreen and chlorine had been replaced with dried leaves and wood smoke burning off in the distance. And as I waited for the dog to finish his "duty", he too sniffed the air perceptively, almost like he knew that change was right around the corner.
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE fall...apple picking, pumpkin carving, warm, toasty fires on a cool fall night and picking out all the Snickers, Peanut Butter Cups and Butterfingers from the kids' Halloween candy to keep my highly allergic son, Kyle, safe. The sacrifices we mothers make for our children is just unimaginable...including plaque build up in our arteries. (Yes, I know I could throw it all out, but when have YOU ever thrown out a Peanut Butter Cup?). Sadly, on the heels of a crisp, fall day is the dreaded return of bleak, dreary, depressing, icy, cold winter. Blah. I hate the snow, I hate the ice, I hate the cold and I sink into a seasonal affective disorder slump every time I look out at the brown, colorless landscape that is the Northeast from November until March. Even the laundry of winter is darker, heavier and uglier.
For someone who longingly shops online, just wishing for a little light therapy via a costly "lightbox" (ranging in price from $100-$300 which is precisely why Dan laughs at the thought of buying me one), so I can close my eyes and pretend I'm on a beach somewhere sipping Mai Tai's, it's hard to believe that there were a few years that with all the ugliness of winter, that winter, quickly usurped spring, summer and fall as my favorite season. Not because I took up skiing or because we "wintered" in Aspen with the likes of Charlie Sheen and Kevin Costner (hands down, Charlie Sheen would be the preferred neighbor as I imagine his parties would be much more entertaining). No, winter became #1, because in the Northeast, the chance of a severe thunderstorm or tornado "destroying our house" was slim (probably a less than 20% chance...my boy knows his weather statistics) and The Weather Channel was not blaring from every television in our home 24/7.
The Wizard of Oz (1939) MGM To say that once upon a time, Ryan thought storms were a "little scary", would be like saying Dorothy thought the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz were just a "little creepy". Just like Auntie Em's home, Ryan feared with every stormy day, that our home would end up in the vortex of a twister, crush a wicked witch and land in Oz. This fear, this phobia of thunder, lightning, wind and tornado watches, or heaven forbid, tornado warnings, became so intense, so prevalent, so consuming, that the chance of PM thunderstorms influenced our daily activities. If there was a 30% chance or higher of late day thunderstorms (we were really doomed if "some storms may be severe" was tossed up on The Weather Channel screen), a trip to the grocery store, out for dinner, or off to cash in our winning Power Ball ticket, was just not worth the horrible scenarios that played out in Ryan's head. Just like Dorothy (sans the ruby slippers) in Ryan's mind, there really was "no place like home".
Lots of kids dislike thunderstorms, lots of kids have phobias, fears and anxieties, however, for a child with an ASD, it often is what they fear, the degree that fear impacts their daily life and how they react to that fear that makes the difference. Anxiety Disorders and Autism Spectrum Disorders are frequently co-occurring (or co-morbid), meaning, they go hand in hand. When your kid is watching The Weather Channel (from April-November) more than he is watching Nick, Jr. at the age of 7, that is just a wee bit extreme. When your every day spring and summer plans must take into account the chance of a thunderstorm, or your son almost walks into the bus gate while running for his life in a rain shower for fear a tornado may appear at any moment and swoop him up, or you son worries more about the dew point than he does missing out on his school's once a year Family Fun Night (we all did have to take cover inside the school due to a tornado warning while Ryan sat safely and shakily in our basement watching the radar), that my friend is a problem....regardless of what Denial may say.
Although Denial assured me that all kids have fears and phobias and these fears are just part of "being a kid", it was a trip to Smith Mountain Lake in Virginia with friends that made me tie a rock to Denial's feet and toss her off the dock. We rented a fabulous lake house and a pontoon boat to float around the 32 square mile lake. Needless to say, with parts of the lake being 250 ft. deep, we were all in life vests and I was knee deep in paranoia...constantly checking life vests and keeping an eye out for the Loch Ness Monster or Jason to pop out of the lake right next to one of my children. Aside from my own personal, "need a therapist and some medication" phobias, the week was great with boating, swimming, fishing and tubing. The only downside was that throughout most of the week, The Weather Channel (Ryan found it immediately upon arrival) forecasted a 30% chance or greater, of thunderstorms, which put a bit of a damper in Ryan's mood . Guess how much my sweet boy wanted to go on a boat in open water with a 30% chance of thunderstorms? About as much as I wanted to go investigate a noise I heard in the middle of the night, by myself, in my pajamas, without a weapon down by the dock (why are people in horror movies so dumb?). Poor Ryan. It didn't matter that the sky was blue with only a few white puffy clouds in the sky, The Weather Channel does not lie!
After cajoling, threatening and finally, bribing Ryan, he got on his life vest (which of course he hated how it felt and smelled) and warily got on the boat with his eyes on the sky. Watching all the other kids swimming, tubing and laughing my heart ached as my boy repeatedly looked up at the sky with trepidation and asked how much longer until we returned to the house. Such fear and anxiety is not what a 7 year old child should feel when surrounded by a beautiful lake, great friends and as much junk food as the boat would hold to keep him happy. Ryan jumped in the lake a few times and tried his hand at fishing, but overall, Ryan was just weather obsessed. It's hard to see the ripples on the lake or hear the giggles from the other kids on the inner tube when all Ryan could see was darkening clouds, lightening strikes, tornadoes and devastation. Enough was enough. Time to stop listening to Denial's gurgling protests from the dock, and get my boy some help. Enter Dr. B.
Dr. B specialized in treating children with anxiety disorders. He was one of those quiet, sciency doctors with a warm smile and a kind heart and you could tell, Dr. B was fascinated with the inner workings of Ryan's brain. Dr. B decided to try a little exposure therapy with Ryan. First, Dr. B showed Ryan photographs of severe weather...lightning, tornadoes, hurricanes, etc. Ryan seemed unimpressed and he certainly did not demonstrate the reactions that a real storm evoked in him. Eventually, Dr. B moved to video clips of severe weather and while Ryan watched the clips, he blew bubbles in order to control his breathing. I remember thinking, "Are you freaking kidding me? Hundreds of dollars for bubble blowing?", but hey, I'm not the expert, I'm just the mom. We had to repeat this exercise at home and Ryan complained that it was boring. I asked him if watching the storms got him nervous and he said, "not really, the storms are on the computer." My literal thinking boy...I was starting to believe this exercise was futile. I asked Dr. Bob, if exposure therapy was effective for a child with an autism brain and he said, "Well, it is a bit more challenging." I thanked Dr. Bob, wished him well and took matters into my own hands. Sometimes, Mom does know best.
Even though we moms know we know best, our kids frequently do not believe this to be true. After all, we are "just" moms. Ryan reminds me regularly that I "don't know anything" other than how to cook a meatless cheeseburger and make his bed. We moms can't help with homework, we aren't teachers. We can't help correct your swing, we aren't baseball coaches. So, we most surely can't tell you that the chance of your house being destroyed in South Central PA by a "deadly tornado" is relatively small because we aren't meteorologists. This mom, who doesn't know anything, decided to take my boy to an expert. Not an expert on autism, not an expert on anxiety, this dumb old mom, packed Ryan up and drove to Lancaster to meet with a weather expert, WGAL's meteorologist Matt Ritter. I called the station, explained our struggle and an appointment was made for Ryan to get a tour of the weather room and get the goods about storms first hand from an expert.
Meteorologist Matt Ritter showed Ryan the Doppler radar, he explained to Ryan, how with the help of computers, they can track storms and pinpoint where that storm will hit. Mr. Ritter assured Ryan that very few tornadoes like the ones he has watched on The Weather Channel, occur in PA. The weather expert also explained the warning systems and what they mean, and with today's technology, meteorologists are able to warn people to seek shelter before a storm hits. Of course it didn't matter how many times I told Ryan this same info and begged him to turn off that fear inducing Weather Channel, which, by the way I eventually blocked (AWEnestly, that happened), Matt Ritter was the expert, not reassuring old mom. I swear, as Ryan gazed at the Doppler radar satellites, while we walked outside, I could visibly see his shoulders relax....until we got in the car and he asked if it was going to storm before we got home.
Meteorologist Matt Ritter showed Ryan the Doppler radar, he explained to Ryan, how with the help of computers, they can track storms and pinpoint where that storm will hit. Mr. Ritter assured Ryan that very few tornadoes like the ones he has watched on The Weather Channel, occur in PA. The weather expert also explained the warning systems and what they mean, and with today's technology, meteorologists are able to warn people to seek shelter before a storm hits. Of course it didn't matter how many times I told Ryan this same info and begged him to turn off that fear inducing Weather Channel, which, by the way I eventually blocked (AWEnestly, that happened), Matt Ritter was the expert, not reassuring old mom. I swear, as Ryan gazed at the Doppler radar satellites, while we walked outside, I could visibly see his shoulders relax....until we got in the car and he asked if it was going to storm before we got home.
Thanks to my outside the box thinking, a road trip to Lancaster, and Ryan's love of books on weather, winter has once again become my most dreaded season. As the final leaves fall, I will hibernate in my house, anxiously awaiting the return of spring and summer which will also mean the return of severe weather season. Ryan still gets a little anxious when severe weather is approaching and he will tell me that he feels "uncomfortable" when the wind starts blowing in the dark clouds, but Ryan's fear is not as consuming as it once was. Unfortunately, Ryan still buys into The Weather Channel "hype" by routinely checking his Weather Channel app on his iPod, but thanks to maturity, the voice of an "expert" and a better understanding of all things weather, the fear is not as great as it once was. Now, Ryan will go mini-golfing even if there is a 30% chance of a storm, but he won't let the opportunity pass without trying to convince you that Thursday would be a better day since there is only a 10% chance of a passing shower.
I recognize in an unorganized, big world, where Ryan feels so little control, there really is no place like home. For Ryan, keeping an eye on the sky and deciding when is the safest time for him to venture outdoors, is his way of exerting some control over his world. Although Ryan loves me as much as Dorothy loved Toto, I assure you, on a cloudy day, when the winds are picking up and The Weather Channel alert is blaring a tornado warning throughout the house, there is little chance my boy will run outside to save me and bring me to shelter. Chances are, Ryan will already be in the safest part of the basement, where there are no windows, watching the radar on his iPod, with a mattress covering him waiting for the opportunity to tell me once again, that I was wrong and that I really don't know ANYTHING. Ryan's right, I may not be able to predict the weather, and my assurances of a tornado never hitting our house could literally blow up in my face, but one thing we both know, I will always be by his side as we weather the storm together.
I recognize in an unorganized, big world, where Ryan feels so little control, there really is no place like home. For Ryan, keeping an eye on the sky and deciding when is the safest time for him to venture outdoors, is his way of exerting some control over his world. Although Ryan loves me as much as Dorothy loved Toto, I assure you, on a cloudy day, when the winds are picking up and The Weather Channel alert is blaring a tornado warning throughout the house, there is little chance my boy will run outside to save me and bring me to shelter. Chances are, Ryan will already be in the safest part of the basement, where there are no windows, watching the radar on his iPod, with a mattress covering him waiting for the opportunity to tell me once again, that I was wrong and that I really don't know ANYTHING. Ryan's right, I may not be able to predict the weather, and my assurances of a tornado never hitting our house could literally blow up in my face, but one thing we both know, I will always be by his side as we weather the storm together.
One eye on his bait and one eye on the clouds!
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