Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The tornado and the cookies...

I love fall, and I love this time of year. Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas. Scarves, and shopping, and cider, and snowflakes. I am a Holiday nerd. I wear Merry Christmas pants on November 1st. I breathe in and sigh at coffee shops when I smell peppermint, and I cry when I hear carols. But the scariest, most heart stopping thing to me is that Chandler's birthday in January. Another year has come and gone, and my baby still doesn't talk. He will be eight years old. Don't get me wrong. I am fiercely proud of him. This year he stopped wearing pull ups. This year he started requesting more things. But as my friend's ASD children move forward, I watch them moving faster than Chandler. I know, I know, its not a race. Not a competition. Then why do I feel like I am standing in the eye of the storm? It's silent in here. I can see out, through the debris and the 90 mile an hour winds. I don't want to leave this spot. I know that we all have so many common threads, but sometimes I am so jealous I secretly am angry at them. I love their children and I am proud of them for each and every milestone.....but do I beg God to let me hear him say a sentence. Every year. I put that on my list. And it never comes. Tears spill down my face every year when he half opens his gifts and throws them aside.
I thought of that the other day, while I was making the boy's lists for Grandpa. I was wondering what to put on his list....and Chandler kept bringing me a bag of cookie mix. I was shaking my head, signing, and saying "No, baby, they aren't in the bag. You have to...."....maybe he already knows that.... Why am I assuming he doesn't know that this is a mix? Maybe speaking is not the most important gift to ask for. I put down the catalog, and in my messy kitchen, with my pajamas on, in the morning, we made Chocolate chip cookies. He poured in the butter, he made a horrible face at the egg, and I had to ask him to come back and stir three times. But we did it, it was a very short lived experience, but one of the funnest. We each had three and a huge glass of milk. Christmas cookies, here we come.


  1. Honestly, I hear you. This is tough. Sometimes the autism blogosphere seems full of smart kids who come out with funny one-liners and flashes of insight. Yes, those kids have HUGE challenges, and they're recognisably on the same spectrum as BB, but sometimes ... just sometimes ... it feels like I'm peeping into another world. And then something lovely will happen, like your cookie making, that tells us "it's ok, we're doing fine just the way we are". Hang in there. You and I may be travelling slowly, but at least we can appreciate the scenery ; )

  2. Ben is the only child in his class not being pulled out for any length of time to sit in on the regular kindergarten.
    I guess I know Ben, and see how incredibly smart he is, and when I look at the kids in the class, they seem equally effected by autism. The fact Ben is in the back of the line is scary.
    Just like you though, I look for the thought behind the actions. Getting to know him in a round the block way.