Imagine if there were 8 of me for my 1 boy (#491)

It was a day of a lot of conversations.
With Jim as I drove to work: Charlie was not saying much, smiled as he got on the bus, which seemed pretty good considering that we had to get him out of bed at 1am for a shower and a complete change of sheets and so forth.

With an administrator at a large university who noted that, at some schools, eight people do the advising job that I do, in addition to my teaching classes in Latin, ancient Greek, and Classics.

With a student about something important.

With Charlie’s teacher as I packed my bag with one hand, forgot a book I really needed and some folders of paperwork, and hastened out the door. Charlie had had his first tough day at school: Repetitive speech plus humming as he got off the bus. A chair knocked over after another child was upset. More repetitive speech about family members, screaming, banging blocked by teachers at the ready. Charlie’s teacher talked about needing to up reinforcement during transitions (she had been working on fading it out) and about reminding him to remember to “ask for break.” We talked for quite a while about all the activity going on (due to a certain conference on autism and advocacy this Friday, October 27th—-Gong Gong and PoPo, my parents, visiting; —Jim working very late hours and both of us not at home as much for the next few days—-8 fewer hours of school last week—-the weather taking a distinctive change to autumn cool—-).

With Charlie’s school speech therapist, who came for a home visit, explained the oral-motor exercises he is working on, and detailed how he does group speech with a 5th-grade student.

With my parents about what to do on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday afternoons when they take Charlie off the bus.

With the ABA therapist later in the evening who noted that Charlie was decidedly tense with anxious undertones and needed a reminder to ask to take a break when something in him was escalating. And then the something went away and Charlie was smiling and playing catch. I went into the bedroom and Charlie was sound, sound asleep, and I sat down to make up a calendar with picture cards so he can track who will be where in the next few days.

(I suspect this will help me to do so, too.)

And another, 8th, conversation with Jim about the everything of today.

Come to think of it, I am feeling—like many another parent of an autistic child—that I seem to have to be 8 people simultaneously to take care of my 1, best boy.

2 Responses to “Imagine if there were 8 of me for my 1 boy (#491)”
  1. Lisa/Jedi says:

    If Charlie were B the tenseness would be due to picking up on the excitement of his parents 🙂 (for what it’s worth). B is also becoming aware of his transition difficulties- not something that he’s consciously worked on yet, although it’s been a long-time concern. (PS: the photos of Charlie that you post are gorgeous! I wish we could get such good ones of B. He tends to tense-up around cameras, giving him various goofy expressions… sigh 🙂

  2. I often seem to get the best photos on my cell phone camera—-candids are best for Charlie (posing him rarely results in a smile).

    Yes, it’s getting prety interesting around here……

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