Desktop Diaries: Temple Grandin

Friends, Frowns and Tears

I greeted Max as he got off the bus and felt this strong feeling that I needed to ask him how his day went. I do ask him, but sometimes not until we are seated around the dinner table. Max stopped on the walkway that leads to our  front door, dropped his back pack, lunch sack, and viola minutes after I asked him. Tears escaped from his sky blue eyes and cascaded down his cheeks.  "Dale said to stop talking to him on the bus and Karl told me to stop asking the same questions in class today."
 Max took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "I don't have any friends."  

I called his teacher and she said that Max and the other students seem to all have a problem with asking the same questions over and over.  She told me he has lots of friends. I guess it's a trial we all experience in our life, where we feel like we don't matter and no one wants to be our friend. 

I broke into a million pieces hearing Max say I don't have any friends. Its a sentence I hoped would never cross his lips. I remember when my oldest son felt like he didn't have any friends because he was smart. I remember him  saying, "I wish I wasn't smart." I guess all of us go through a period in our life where we feel like we don't matter to our peers. Even Max with autism has to learn to cope with the same stuff a typical child deals with. I am glad Max recognized what a friend is and that he wants friends.

One question Max has been asking me since the election is. "Mom are we going to have a civil war?"  Max always follows up with reason before I can answer him, with 

"I think we will have a civil war, because people don't know how to be nice to each other."

I always write a note on Max's paper towel that I put his his lunch box. 

Max's World

What life has been like for Max these last couple of months. 

Max had a Orchestra Concert in the park. 

Max in his Orchestra school shirt. He was glad when concert was over. 

Halloween

Max getting ready to carve his pumpkin.

Max thrilled with his pumpkin.

Max wanted me to get a close up of his pumpkin.

Max put his pumpkin outside on Halloween night and asked me to put a candle inside. 

                                         

Max's Halloween costume. 

Max wanted to be a Newsie from the musical Newsies. He loves the Newsies.

Car Show

After Car Show we went to visit my cousin. 

Max got to help feed my cousins horses and he loved it. 

Then we went to visit sweet, dear Nancy and her hubby.

Nancy let Max play with her bow and arrow. He loved it

Max's brother Malachi helping him. 

HONOR ROLL OR NOT?

Max and I at a beach in Washington, when he was three years old. 

 The results of Max's school Honor Roll list jabbed at my heart. I took a deep breath and then scanned the list for Max's name. The pain in my heart became more intense with the realization that Max's name would never be on a honor roll list. My tears began to form and  I believed and hoped it would magically appear, but I knew it wasn't possible. I have had a habit to look at the honor roll list since my oldest, who is now 27, was a youth. To observe each one of my children's names on the deans list or honor roll was a comfort to me. A list that announced my child had an interest in learning and had more intellect than others. I believe it's a list that shows that their child likes to read, write or learn everything and anything they can. 

 My children didn't have to work hard to make the honor roll. My oldest  at the age of five took an algebra class at ASU and passed it with flying colors. I feel blessed that God has given me the opportunity to raise such intellectual children and then He gave me the pleasure to raise Max. Each one of my children have been  a source of strength and pure joy. 

Max might never have to do a science project or a long draw out book report like my other kids. The nights of staying up late helping my children put their science boards together seem like a dream to me now. Instead my hours are spent sitting in waiting rooms while he has therapy, or listening to him express his thoughts on subjects he really doesn't understand. I love listening to Max's prayers they are filled with compassion. He is always asking God to help him not be tempted by the devil and that he can make good decisions. 

Magnificent Max, my sweet loving son who didn't make the honor roll list, who probably doesn't even know what the honor roll is. In my heart he has made the honor roll. He brings honor to our home.  He brings a loving spirit of kindness, gentleness and pure innocence.  I can honestly say he made a better list. He has enriched my life in more ways that I ever thought possible. He has taught me the most important list to be on, is one of compassion, love, and respect for others.  

How blessed I've been with five remarkable children. I love each one of them. 

Last night Max and I shared a bowl of popcorn and watched Polar Express. Max still believes in Santa!  

I need to stop typing.  My tears are dripping on the keyboard. 

Home Late Again = Bad Day

It was after 4:30 and Max still hadn't arrived home. When his new Occupational therapist called asking why we didn't come to our for a 4pm appointment. I knew it was time for me to call school bus department. Max's bus is suppose to drop him off at 3:30. My stomach began to tighten up with thoughts that Max could of been in a accident or got on the wrong bus, but when I heard the dispatcher on the other end of the phone line and found out that Max had a substitute driver and the driver didn't know the route. I was able to take a sigh of relief.
He had speech at five o'clock. My mind went in several direction as I felt my frustation boiling in me, wondering how I was going to make it to his appointment on time.

I waited and waited at our front door for him to arrive after I got off the phone with the dispatcher. Calmness came over me when I noticed a shade of the bus Shadow through the window.

Poor Max finally arrived home at 4:45. I quickly opened up the door to greet Max hoping he would be willing to leave for therapy. Max usually likes to come home, eat a snack and rest, but it wasn't possible.

I observed Max has he carried his viola case strap over his shoulder and his back pack dragging behind him. His eyes were drawn up and his voice was projecting the same couple of sentences over and over.

Max glared at the light fixture above our entry way. "Mom they need to fire the bus driver. If he doesn't have a college degree he shouldn't be driving the bus. Mom...he made me last to come home, he dropped everyone and left me last. Call the school mom and tell them to fire the two workers on the bus. I knew the helper, but the bus driver wasn't good mom."

I slipped Max's viola case strap off his shoulder while trying to get him to listen to my directions, but it wasn't possible. It was difficult to get him to focus on anything. I had to physically guide him out to the car as he continue to share his thoughts about the substitute  bus driver. "MOM...do you hear me? They need to tell those workers never to come back Mom, can they put me on another bus? They have to, I can't always be last home."

"I heard you and you need to understand they didn't know the  bus route."

Max looked at me with a firm belief he knew the answer. "Then they need to go to college and learn the route."

Speech theapry was not as productive with him so upset over getting home late and being last on the bus.

Max's Campout to Bear Lake.

Max went fishing for the first time ever and he loved it I guess.

 

 

 

Max with his fishing post and tackle box.



 

Max and another scout looking at the fish.

 

Max fishing.

 

Max trying to catch a fish.

 

Max watching the crawdads cook.

 

Max didn't want to eat a crawdad and neither did his brother Malachi.

 

 

Max's Mood Scale

 

 

Max's teacher has a number scale to help her students express how they are feeling. Here is the mood scale that Max has brought home. I asked him what each one of them means and I wrote what he said next to his mood description word.

 

 

The years that Max was non-verbal and his behavior was sometimes more difficult to keep under control, seem like a hundred of years ago. My heart aches at the memory of seeing his hand go through the living room window, all because he wanted to go for a walk. The countless times he ran out onto a main intersection now seem like someone elses story. I remember the numerous times he would dart out of my parents home and run out onto the street.

A hobby Max had developed was tossing his shoe at me while I was driving during rush hour. I know why he did those things. It was the only way he knew how to express his feelings and desires.

What a blessing that he can now share his feelings with me. Sometimes he has a difficult time, but most often I can at least figure out what he is wanting or needing.

 

Now he talks non-stop and he seems to think that when he ask a question I should know the answer right away. Well, I'm defiantly not a perfect mother and I don't always have the answers, but I try to answer him the best way I know and in a way he will understand.

 

We all have mood swings, we all have days when we are down unable to see any ray of hope of things changing or moving forward. For Max he sees each day as a day to play his wii, attend school and place Lego's all over his bedroom thinking they will permanently stay in that spot. He will have them even put on the shelves in his closet, dresser, floor. When I ask him nicely to clean up his face droops with sadness when he realizes it's the only way I can dust and vacuum his room.

(Yes, Max does vacumm.)

Scale mood number five kind of shocked me. Crazy Mad a combination I have never used before to him or any one else that I can remember. 

Heaven knows after raising five kids and one with autism, I might of said it. Life brings us trials that help us on our course through our trail of life.

Thanks for letting me share the story of a little boy who holds not only my heart, but my life.