Pick Up

Today’s title has multiple meanings…

First, I desperately need to pick up my blogging again. It’s important to my sanity, it’s important to document where we’ve been, where we are, where we’re going. I have much that I want to share, and I just need to make more of an effort.

Second, I need to pick up my battle axe! Blogging is part of that. I want to be an advocate, I want to make a difference, I need to be one of the voices that matters at least to one person…

Finally, I wanted to tell an interesting (to me) story of my daily “pick up”…

Let me say that Kellen has started a new school district program, and you will be hearing a lot about it in the coming weeks. We had to make some decisions, not all by our own choice, but we are moving forward, and we are extremely hopeful for the future.

He still goes to daycare before and after school (it’s just a halfday) so our pick-up routine is much the same. I go get Larkin from her class, we walk to Kellen’s class and get him, and then we attempt to maneuver ourselves and our various things from the back of the school to my car without losing anyone or anything…daily success in that varies.

So yesterday I gathered Larkin from her class as usual and we went Kellen’s class where I proceed to get the report that he’s had a “bad day” (which to a mother in the autism world can mean a great many things or nothing at all). Apparently today’s bad day consisted of him attempting to bite his teacher a couple of times and generally just not wanting people in his space (hey it was Monday, I felt much the same). While I’m talking with the teacher and trying to get his crap together at the same time, two other things happen…one annoying/amusing (depending on your take) and one amazing/surprising.

Annoying/amusing: While I’m talking to Teacher #1, a dad is handing out birthday party invitations. He attempts to give Kellen his…by calling his name…repeatedly…and Kellen of course is not looking at him…because he is FREAKING AUTISTIC. Part of me wanted to dash over in rescue of Kellen and either a) take the invitation politely or b) actually say “He’s autistic dumbass”. Thankfully I thought better of option b because I was in a room full of 2-3 year olds, but not before I stood there for longer than was necessary watching this (non)-interaction…mostly because some small part of me was willing Kellen to look over at him, hoping, just maybe. But then I couldn’t stand it, went over, and politely took the invitation.

While all of this was going on, one of the other kids in the class apparently bonked Larkin on the head and she was now crying. Teacher #2 noticed this and quickly gathered her up and took her to the far corner of the classroom to console her. I finished my conversation with Teacher #1, and headed over to where Teacher #2 had Larkin who was still crying but did not appear to be injured in any way other than the loss of pride over being bonked on the head by a kid half her size. When I got to her, I stopped short in shock.

Amazing/surprising: Leaning down and peering into her face maybe a foot away was Kellen…he had just been over by me during the party invitation standoff, but when he heard his sister cry, he went over to check on her. My autistic son showed concern that someone was hurt, more importantly I am completely confident that he would have (and has) cared less if any of the other children in that room were crying. But he heard his sister, and went to check on her, and then searched for my face behind him and came to me.

And at the end of the day, I really could care less if he didn’t turn toward some random man calling his name. Because he heard his sister in distress and came to her side…and that’s all any mother (autism world or not) could ask for. Just another example of things “he’s not supposed to do”…I look forward to adding a whole lot more to that list!