So, if I were willing to share my SAT scores from a millenia ago (I'm not), you would understand that math is not my thing. You may wonder with a score so low if perhaps I napped through the math section or if maybe I used a number 1 lead pencil instead of a number 2. And if I were to tell you that I can no longer help my daughter with third grade math (and honestly struggled with second grade math too) you would never believe that I have the ability to understand the math and science involved with horology, the science of measuring time. But, I do. Kinda. Sort of. Not really. Although I may not understand the exact mathematical equation when it comes to measuring time, there is one thing I will tell you that no horologist ever will. Sometimes, tomorrow comes before today.
Trust me. I have proof.
Trust me. I have proof.
This "proof" came sort of by accident. I wasn't trying to disprove all the work done by super smart horologists or trying to win some Nobel Prize for science. No, this "proof" was a direct result of my poor math skills and my inept ability to compute how much weight a metal closet shelf can bear before collapsing. (Hint: Four years worth of school papers, assignments, workbooks, evaluations, and over 40 board games is too much). Oh, and my slovenly housekeeping skills also had something to do with my recent time measuring discovery.
Of all the closets to collapse, it had to be Ryan's. The neatest of all my kids. This closet disaster did not go over well. Ryan was less than pleased when he came home to a pile of papers, clothes and board games in his otherwise clean and tidy room. In fact, I was told to "get this junk out of here because the dust is making my lungs swell". Much to Ryan's dismay, while digging through the "junk", I would cry out happily, "Oh, Ryan, remember this?" and "I loved when you drew me this" all while I sat in his space, in his way. Ryan isn't much of a sentimental guy, so he quickly tossed me and the "junk" out into the hallway.
I spent hours (in the hallway) going back in time...remembering. It was then, surrounded by "junk" and memories, that with no real math skills to speak of and without any background in horology, I made the irrefutable discovery that for a mom loving a child with autism, there were many occasions when tomorrow, did in fact, come before today.
Digging through the remnants of Ryan's destroyed closet shelf (thanks to his mother's laziness and poor weight distribution computing skills), I discovered seven pieces of hard evidence, I needed to prove my theory.
Of all the closets to collapse, it had to be Ryan's. The neatest of all my kids. This closet disaster did not go over well. Ryan was less than pleased when he came home to a pile of papers, clothes and board games in his otherwise clean and tidy room. In fact, I was told to "get this junk out of here because the dust is making my lungs swell". Much to Ryan's dismay, while digging through the "junk", I would cry out happily, "Oh, Ryan, remember this?" and "I loved when you drew me this" all while I sat in his space, in his way. Ryan isn't much of a sentimental guy, so he quickly tossed me and the "junk" out into the hallway.
I spent hours (in the hallway) going back in time...remembering. It was then, surrounded by "junk" and memories, that with no real math skills to speak of and without any background in horology, I made the irrefutable discovery that for a mom loving a child with autism, there were many occasions when tomorrow, did in fact, come before today.
Digging through the remnants of Ryan's destroyed closet shelf (thanks to his mother's laziness and poor weight distribution computing skills), I discovered seven pieces of hard evidence, I needed to prove my theory.
1. Old evaluations and assessments. Doctors, therapists, fortune tellers and Google can't predict tomorrow, so worrying about their predictions, believing their predictions, made tomorrow come before today. Evaluations give a snapshot in time. They do not predict the future. So worrying if tomorrow Ryan will live alone, have a job, go to college, get married and have a family when he is only 3, made me miss how high he could swing, how far he could jump and how many new words he learned today. Tomorrow interrupted today.
2. School work. Examining every writing assignment and wondering, will he ever improve his handwriting, his spelling, his story telling to "mainstream" in middle school, high school and (dare I dream) college? The words and the work I found in that heap were indescribable! How did I not see today? How did I not see his AWEnesty, his humor, his desire to use big words, words that no other 8 year old was trying to use? Tomorrow blinded today.
3. Crumpled board games. When Ryan would play board games, he would get so frustrated if anyone bent the rules, did not follow the rules as he interpreted them and God forbid, if he lost, that inevitabley, the board game and most of it's contents would go flying across the room. I remember sitting there watching his meltdown, ducking from the metal Monopoly pieces so as to not lose an eye and thinking, "How will he deal with less than scrupulous colleagues or a boss who bends the rules as an adult?". Worrying about tomorrow, I failed to see that today he sat through most of a board game without melting down, interacted socially with his siblings and occasionally praised them when they did well. Tomorrow stole today.
3. Crumpled board games. When Ryan would play board games, he would get so frustrated if anyone bent the rules, did not follow the rules as he interpreted them and God forbid, if he lost, that inevitabley, the board game and most of it's contents would go flying across the room. I remember sitting there watching his meltdown, ducking from the metal Monopoly pieces so as to not lose an eye and thinking, "How will he deal with less than scrupulous colleagues or a boss who bends the rules as an adult?". Worrying about tomorrow, I failed to see that today he sat through most of a board game without melting down, interacted socially with his siblings and occasionally praised them when they did well. Tomorrow stole today.
4. Birthday cards from "friends". Each card I discovered in the heap brought back a time when tomorrow came before today. Every. Single. Birthday Party. Was. Hard. I gave the suggestions on what to do for his birthday, I made the arrangements, I made the guest list (with an occasional nod or grunt on who I was inviting) and I helped him remember his friends' names. Each party I wondered, "Will he ever have parties, friends, social outings without me there guiding him every step of the way?". Will it be easier tomorrow? Funny, how looking back I realize that "today" he was in a crowded party room with noise, chaos, unexpected hugs from "friends" and presents he hated, but, worrying about tomorrow I failed to see how far he had come today. Worry put tomorrow before today.
5. Unopened rock hard Play Doh. Play doh. A neurotypical child's favorite artwork medium. My child with autism? Not so much. I remember trying so hard to get Ryan to touch it, squeeze it, smell it, and play with it. Nope. Nada. Never. He hated Play Doh...the feel of it, the smell of it, and yes, the taste of it. Play Doh became more of an occupational therapy tool than a toy. It's amazing how in a worried mother's eye Play Doh can morph into shaving cream and how that worried eye can convince the worried brain that Ryan's inability to touch anything sticky, gooey, etc would mean he would have a beard down to his knees since he wouldn't be able to stand the feel of shaving cream and of course the noise of an electric razor would terrify him. Play Doh to a ZZ Top Band Member in a blink of an eye. Tomorrow jumped way in front of today.
5. Unopened rock hard Play Doh. Play doh. A neurotypical child's favorite artwork medium. My child with autism? Not so much. I remember trying so hard to get Ryan to touch it, squeeze it, smell it, and play with it. Nope. Nada. Never. He hated Play Doh...the feel of it, the smell of it, and yes, the taste of it. Play Doh became more of an occupational therapy tool than a toy. It's amazing how in a worried mother's eye Play Doh can morph into shaving cream and how that worried eye can convince the worried brain that Ryan's inability to touch anything sticky, gooey, etc would mean he would have a beard down to his knees since he wouldn't be able to stand the feel of shaving cream and of course the noise of an electric razor would terrify him. Play Doh to a ZZ Top Band Member in a blink of an eye. Tomorrow jumped way in front of today.
6. Artwork. The art room. Still one of Ryan's least favorite places. Art is vague, abstract and there is no right or wrong answer. It is not concrete enough for his very literal brain. There is a lot of sensory stuff in the art room...smells, textures, and messiness. Not Ryan's ideal place to thrive. With every medium he became stressed. With every cycle day 5, "Art Day", he would moan and groan the entire way to the bus stop and I would worry about all the ways his heightened sensory system could impact not just art class, but, tomorrow. Yet there in the heap of "junk" I was reminded of a today when he couldn't hold scissors, a pencil or a crayon properly and how tomorrow pushed past today and I wondered, how he would sign his name in school, pay bills, or file his marriage license. How would all these struggles with fine motor skills "hold him back" tomorrow? I missed today waiting for tomorrow.
7. Chao. This guy is the embodiment of tomorrow coming before today. A tiny little action figure from Sonic the Hedgehog video games. Chao went everywhere and heaven forbid if he was not somewhere. With my poor math skills, I can't begin to count the number of times we turned the house upside down when Chao went missing or how many time I wondered, "Who the blankety, blank, blank would pay $80 for this tiny chunk of plastic?" while trying not to click Buy It Now on ebay. Chao helped Ryan get where he needed to go or do what he needed to do. I remember thinking, "What will the kids say in high school when he walks through the halls with Chao?". All my worry for tomorrow and Chao never even made it to middle school let alone high school. However, looking at his scratched up, beat up little blue eyes, I remember a "today" when Chao was placed in the pocket of a new coat that Ryan was finally able to wear even though it was "new" and "felt funny". Chao helped Ryan transition from one activity to the next at daycare and at home, and yes, Chao even sat at the dinner table a time or two helping Ryan to sit through a meal and actually eat. Tomorrow before today.
Maybe it took a collapsed closet for the full impact of how many todays I missed worrying about tomorrow. Some may judge me saying, I should have accepted and loved Ryan as he was today and not worried so much about tomorrow and believe me I did, but, I would be lying if I didn't tell you that there were times I was so consumed with Ryan's future, that I missed his present. That is something I must live with and learn from.
Although my math and housekeeping is not something to brag about, I must admit, had the closet not collapsed, had the dust covered "junk" not caused Ryan's "lungs to swell" I may not have made such a noteworthy discovery. Yes, sure I proved to myself that sometimes tomorrow comes before today, and in that I learned a valuable lesson to appreciate the present without worrying too much about the future, but, in all the "junk" what I discovered most about time is that yesterday is proof of what today and tomorrow may bring for my son.
Who knows, maybe I do have a future in horology.
Maybe it took a collapsed closet for the full impact of how many todays I missed worrying about tomorrow. Some may judge me saying, I should have accepted and loved Ryan as he was today and not worried so much about tomorrow and believe me I did, but, I would be lying if I didn't tell you that there were times I was so consumed with Ryan's future, that I missed his present. That is something I must live with and learn from.
Although my math and housekeeping is not something to brag about, I must admit, had the closet not collapsed, had the dust covered "junk" not caused Ryan's "lungs to swell" I may not have made such a noteworthy discovery. Yes, sure I proved to myself that sometimes tomorrow comes before today, and in that I learned a valuable lesson to appreciate the present without worrying too much about the future, but, in all the "junk" what I discovered most about time is that yesterday is proof of what today and tomorrow may bring for my son.
Who knows, maybe I do have a future in horology.
Enjoying today with tomorrow nowhere to be found.
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