What It’s All About (#334)

Today I got a letter from the AARP: “Dear Ms. Kristina J. Fisher [sic], Our records show that you haven’t registered yet for the benefits of AARP membership, even though you are fully eligible.”

That last statement is rather suspect, as I was born in the year in which two leading figure of American society were assassinated.
And, to be perfectly honest, I rather wish I had had Charlie when I was even younger than I was in 1997.

Because our days with Charlie are so good, I could only wish that I could have more.

It is not that every single moment is “great!!!!!!!!”. As I have written here before, our life in Autismland is about the daily round of gold and dirt, the sludge and the shine, the stimming and the swimming.

For instance, today, the 24th of May. What was “great!!!!!!!!!”: Charlie’s speech was so clear, plus he kept adding articles and other small words: “I want a cracker. I want to play. I want to eee care-wots.” What was what it is: At recess, a piece of the puzzle Charlie was doing could not be found and he head-banged.

What was what it is all about: After school, 2 1/2 hours of ABA, a half-hour of speech, and dinner, Charlie and I were sitting on the couch. Or rather, I was sitting and he was lying on his side, back, and stomach, frisking and sending out conversational sounds and snatches of song and pushing the soles of his feet hard onto my legs. “Daddy b’ue b’ankett!” he called, even though it was semi-wrapped around him; I picked up the corner hanging on the floor and wrapped it round him, as Charlie pushed so hard that I realized he needed his toenails clipped.

It was two-way deep pressure.

After ten minutes, Charlie lay back, arms crossed behind his head as he used to when he was a baby and looked at the ceiling and glanced at me, and lay still and peaceful.

I sat, feeling the peace in the fading evening light.

Today, the 24th of May, was the date on which many of us blogged about Katherine McCarron, the young autistic girl whose family–who all of us–did not have enough time with.

I had been glancing at a book when Charlie was kicking away at his end of the couch, but, once I sensed his feet tapping, I put it down (it got kicked, too), and savored the live action show featuring my favorite rising star.


3 Responses to “What It’s All About (#334)”
  1. I really hope Charlie’s speech keeps progressing. I always feel like Sam is progressing when we start hear sentances containing things other than nouns and verbs.

    Also, Sam is our deep pressure boy too. The thing we don’t get, is that he hates the $50 weighted blanket I bought him a year ago. He prefers tight normal blankets or his 8 year old, 70 pound brother crushing him. Go figure. I could have saved some money.

    I know your star will continue to rise.

  2. Mamaroo says:

    Roo does that same thing as you describe pushing his feet into me to seek the pressure. He does this when we are standing on the top of our feet digging the balls of his feet into ours. My husband and I have the bruises to show for it. We are very careful when we are barefoot around him.

    You are so right…the great, the good and the not so great is what it is all about for us. I love every minute of my days with my boys!

  3. Charlie has wanted, sought out, deep pressure more and more as he has gotten older. I do not know what I would do without the invention of polar fleece!

    Laura, I like how you put that—yes, hearing something besides nouns and verbs is a big thing around here.

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