Fearless Folks … autism and beyond …

Meghan was home last week for a thanksgiving break. I know she enjoyed her week, because she didn’t want to leave “vacation” and go back to school. Don’t we all feel that way?

The hardest part of raising kids is teaching them the balance between work and fun, I mean they need to understand that life involves work; I think it’s much harder to teach kids with special needs — especially my kids — this reality, so it can get tough and sad for a parent — like this parent!

I must say though that Meghan did not have a flawless week — to put it mildly, then again who does? But…. She had three tantrums, two that involved her hair. She has beautiful hair, blond with curls, but I think she feels what every teenager feels, she hates her own hair. Two out of the three tantrums (blowups, sensory overwhelming explosions or whatever you like to call them) involved cutting her hair in the end. (her bangs are now as short as a boy’s hair). Take Thanksgiving Day for instance. By the time the turkey was nearly done, and that heavenly aroma was permeating throughout the house, I was just starting to set the table with china. I thought that Mimosas would be a good touch for a welcoming drink, so I freshly washed some fancy champagne flutes when I heard Meghan struggling inside her bedroom. A familiar sound that even my cat knows well and was running down the hall to hide under a chair. I grabbed the champagne glasses and stood in a corner while yelling for Meghan father to come help. Meghan ran into the kitchen and, as she had done already one time this week, started plucking dishes from the cabinet and tossing them across the kitchen — tossing them like flying saucers — until she saw the wine glasses sitting on the counter — all newly washed, shiny and perfect, I bit my lip as she threw the first glass and then just watched as she finished the job.

I was powerless. I could only stand there clutching champagne flutes while watching the glass show. I wasn’t shocked, surprised or even wanting to cry — I’ve seen too much for that.  But I was strangely thinking, how liberating this must be for her. I know, strange huh? To actually throw wine glasses one by one against the wall. Haven’t we all had that fantasy? By the time the wine glass shards were scattered throughout the dining/living room and kitchen, she wasn’t finished (or satisfied) so her father had to tackle her to the ground to keep her from further destruction. Meanwhile my guests (family members) were starting to come through the door, welcomed by shards of glass scattered at their feet. I just looked at them and was thinking: run, just run… go away, go far, far away. Why come here, because you know that in a few precious seconds I will have not choice but to pull you deep into the fray of my life: to police Meghan and help clean up every tiny piece of glass sprinkled throughout the house. So, go already, go to a great place like Rio (inspired by a book I’m reading where the main character steals 90 million bucks and runs away to Rio — nice book!!) change your name and live free! Why the hell not? You’re not stuck here like I am, you can do anything you want — you are free. And just in case you’re curious, I think about it once in a while too — off to the promise land of perfect weather, beautiful beaches and people who would welcome you with open arms and expect nothing in return.

But reality sets in — now doesn’t it — and they all have no choice but to be put to work and help clean up every tiny, shiny piece of broken glass while I attend to a roasting turkey that will not take a pause for broken glass and unruly daughters.

After long drinks of Mimosas, large glasses of wine, and a nice turkey dinner — if I do say so myself — Meghan wanted to go to McDonald’s. Ah, yeah! Why not just kick me where it really hurts, Meghan. We took the rest of the evening “trying” to tell her that McDonald’s isn’t better than the turkey she just ate. And second, even McDonald’s breaks for Thanksgiving. But Meghan is a stubborn girl; she will beat you down with a stick for days until she gets her way… Even as guests were leaving she tried to leave with them thinking they would just take her to McDonald’s for a Big Mac. I thought, go ahead, see ya, but my guests managed to (nervously) laugh it off and bolt to their cars when the coast was clear.

Off to Rio I bet as I slammed the door behind them!