We Go With Him

What We Did on Wednesday

 

Jim dropped off a load of branches shorn from the shrubbery above our driveway then drove to Manhattan twice and taught a total of three classes. Inbetween, he and Charlie went on a 14-miler.

Charlie slept in till 10am, walked, ate a hodgepodge of items including sushi and apples, stood on the sidewalk, stood in the house, kept his iPad going, asked for Jim, went on the bike ride, looked forlornly out the front door as Jim drove away the second time (to teach an evening class), stood on the sidewalk sadly, wanted to make brownies, stood on the sidewalk, stared at me, looked up brightly when I suggested turning on the timer, stared at the numbers for the next 3 hours while playing the Charlie Brown music album he had at first wanted nothing to do with (he likes the Bill Melendez piano and also a song in which the kids are singing 'Charlie Brown! Charlie Brown!'), ate rice and Chinese lop cheung sausage standing up and keeping an eye out the window, sat resignedly in his brown chair watching the timer, dozed off with his head almost touching his knees, rejected my efforts to pull the lever to set the chair to recline, looked at me big-eyed every five minutes after 9.30pm, got right up to open the door when I said I saw the black car pull up, demanded Jim take off his socks and shoes, wanted a bedtime snack while in bed, listened to the ocean waves album, didn't sleep till very late after asking me to put some Disney albums back on his iPad.

While Charlie was sleeping in, I worked my way through a German poem, wrote blog posts and tried on pulling together some ideas about neurodiversity and nepios, did some PR for a particular event next week at my job, cleaned the floor, scrubbed the stove, made more coffee, cut up the brownies, reorganized the freezer, emailed Jim's students when he got stuck in Lincoln Tunnel traffic on his second trip into New York, made a few plans for Charlie's birthday party (which will not be for over a month but I usually start thinking about such things about 2 days before the actual event), read a book on field archaeology whose author has a hilariously dry sense of humor about the likes of context record forms.

It was a home day (well, not exactly for Jim who had more of a driving-in-the-black-car day), not bad for a Wednesday and one in the middle of Charlie's Spring Break too.

 

On the Dad Watch

 

After a 15-mile bike ride (including a detour because the local community college's grounds were shut off due to .... a bomb scare), Jim drove into New York to have dinner with some old friends. Charlie had dinner and then spent most of the new few hours at the front window with 'Blues and the Abstract Truth' and John Coltrane ('A Love Supreme') on -- some of Jim's jazz favorites.

Soon as Jim came home, Charlie called for a walk and we all three went.

 

Feeling the Music

Jim has a sixth sense for Charlie's internal states and moods and always has one eye on the rear view mirror when driving with Charlie in the back seat (whereas Charlie seems irked by what seems like such scrutiny on my part). In the car on the way to Jersey horse country Saturday morning, Charlie started crying hard. Jim immediately said, 'hey pal, how are you?'

Charlie had been playing a Wiggles album on his iPad, 'Wiggle Bay.' He used to have the video -- it's about the Wiggles in a beach setting having the usual silly adventures with lots of singing and dancing (c'est Wags, c'est bon, etc.) -- and Charlie had been playing the opening song over and over. Then he let the music go on and on. I was listening and remembering watching various parts of the video with Charlie years ago when he started crying.

Memory pangs of what was and now wasn't?

The acne on his nose?

Jim's and my vigilance levels went up several notches and we both took note of how many more exits we had to pass before getting off the highway. It took a few requests, but Charlie handed me the iPad and I turned off the Wiggles and turned on 'Jazz and the Abstract Truth' with Oliver Nelson and Eric Dolphy. It's a favorite of Jim's and Charlie has listened to it in the past. Just sounds and rhythms changed everything in the car and we proceeded to the general store to get Charlie his habitual piece of carrot cake and thence to the gravel parking lot.

He was smiling by then and eager to get on his bike. As it was in the 70s, there was no need for yellow jackets and really not skull caps or heavy gloves, but Charlie preferred both (while being ok with Jim not wearing his matching heavy gloves). They did 14 miles and 6 later at home and I made soy sauce chicken and butterscotch pudding (the latter on a total whim), not that Charlie ate any of those.

As I stirred the milk into browned butter and sugar while Jim and Charlie both took a much-needed rest I thought about how it's not just that music reflects Charlie's feelings and possible mental states. Very often it seems there is no filter at all between the music and what Charlie is feeling; that he can't screen out whatever the music is making him feel and it all just comes out and he is... paralyzed? to change it -- maybe doesn't realize at that point that he can.

Charlie went to sleep listening to another favorite thanks to Jim, jazz violinist Sugarcane Harris.

 

When the long weekend is a little longer than you remembered

 

Somebody forgot that Charlie had Friday as well as Monday off for President's Day but fortunately somebody else was going to be home anyways!

 

While Jim Was In Boston

 

I got home from New York 25 minutes before Charlie's bus came. His communication book revealed that he'd had a good day at school.

He smiled delightedly as we drove to get a burrito; he hadn't eaten much of his lunch. Snowflakes were falling as we left after getting his 'order to go' and the snow kept falling.

Charlie brought me the 'Dad goes to Boston' social story his teacher had made and I read it to him. He kept it open to the second page where mention is made of 'Dad coming home.' He said, very loudly, he wanted to go to a certain local grocery store where we had a certain incident and then grinned; he likes to say that phrase to be a tease and I said 'you're joking!'. 'Joke-ing' said Charlie.

He watched some old favorites on his iPad: the dog and the beach ball on the beach, the girl with the tap shoes, the dancing bear. I watched too and remembered the first time we saw those videos, on our TV in St. Paul.

Charlie went to his room around 8pm and was asleep by 9.30pm. He didn't listen to any music as he usually does, though he did plug his iPad into the charger, something he started to do by watching me.

 

Anticipating Events (He Always Knows)

 

 

Charlie has been serious and prone to teariness since Sunday. Short of him getting sick again (hopefully not; 3 weeks of stomach misery was puh-lenty), we've been thinking he is woefully anticipating something big next week.

For the first time in quite a few years (I've lost count), Jim is going to be gone overnight. He is giving a talk at Boston College entitled A “Fallen-Away” Catholic's Monastic Vocation in Autismland: Yes, there will be mention of dad 'n' son adventures on two wheels including

• 'stop sign squeeze brakes'
• running away from the bike left on its kickstand in the middle of the street with a dog eagerly yapping
• the famous 'bike rodeo'
• the infamous butterscotch car.

I just sent off a social story to Charlie's teacher this afternoon. While lately it hasn't always seemed so helpful to provide Charlie with too detailed and too advanced notice of non-routine events, given the momentousness of Jim's trip, one needs to try everything.

All this notwithstanding, Charlie had a good day at school. He went swimming and enjoyed it (he doesn't always -- sometimes being in the pool area can be over-stimulating and noisy, plus he had that unfortunate experience with swimming lessons given by an outside provider there a few years ago). The somberness was apparent once he came home and, Jim said, he was first teary-eyed on the bike ride and then singy. I had put on his schedule that we would go to the grocery store and he hopped cheerily enough into the car, only to make it clear he had no desire to go in. So he and Jim stayed in the car while I went in and shopped and then we went home, Charlie put his things away upstairs and then came down and easily helped himself to some sushi.

After several days of near-straight Disney, Charlie has been listening to some different music on his own. In particular, he's been turning on some of the jazz albums Jim chose for him, especially Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth, and especially Eric Dolphy, a jazz flutist. And also, the Wiggles

He istened for awhile then came down for an evening walk which was pleasant and moon-lit. Just before coming into the house, Charlie stationed himself on the sidewalk between the black car on the curb and the white car in the driveway and did a series of back and forth lookings at both. Then he came in smiling, but away his coat and shoes and socks and went to bed, after listening a little longer.

3 Snow Days and Counting

The snow is actually all melted by now (the photo was taken on Sunday) but Charlie's school, according to the call last night, still has no power.

While I was at work, he and Jim had a fabulous day together on Tuesday, putting in some 20 miles on their bikes and maneuvering with ease on new routes, as many streets are still closed due to down trees, hanging power lines, police tape.

Full day Mom and Charlie marathon -- waitathon -- coming up on Wednesday!

 

Prelude to the Weekly Big Wait

After the usual pre-bike-ride handshake and a kiss, Jim and Charlie went on their customary post-school bike ride. Jim then went into New York city to see a student's play and Charlie clearly would have gathered that he had stayed, but accepted reality.

 

Now for the weekly Wednesday wait marathon.

 

Haircut Fears Are Definitely No More

 

Not only did Charlie get a swellelegant haircut and shave from Jerry the barber. He waited, sitting in a barber chair, while Jim first got a haircut.

Yes, the days of crying and wailing in the barber chair and diving away from the scissors while I blew bubbles and we had the reinforcers (those Holgrain crackers) ready are becoming a distant memory. 

We then went to ride bikes in Jersey horse country on a cool, crisp fall day. After a neighborhood bike ride in the afternoon at an oddly slow pace, our boy requested an ice cream run and then went early to bed, with a smile.

 

Weekend to Monday Transition

After 21 miles of Sunday bike riding with his dedicated dad, Charlie, anticipating the start of another week, apparently thought it would be better to get the 'bye dad' business over as soon as possible and, as Jim sat emailing his students, handed him his shoes and announced 'bye dad.'

'I'm going to stay right here with you, pal!' protested Jim.

There followed a good hour of Charlie proffering the shoes and tapping and 'telling' Jim, the time to go to work was now (8pm on a Sunday night).

'That's tomorrow morning,' said Jim. 'I'm here with you right now and I'll see you off on the bus tomorrow.'

'Bus,' said Charlie.

'Dad shoes,' said Charlie.

Eventually, Charlie sat down beside Jim on our gigantic black couch and, still looking nervous, said 'Dad work.' By this time, Jim and I were intermixing saying 'that's tomorrow!' with other chitchat, about students and advisor meetings and the world economy.' 'Dad shoes,' said Charlie.

Then all of a sudden he smiled, popped up, and said 'bedtime!' And charged up the stairs.

Charlie did charge down about a half-hour later wanting one of our evening spring-race walks but after that, and a big bowl of watermelon, bedtime it was, with Dad/Jim's shoes nearly lined up beside the black couch.