Never underestimate the power of laughing.
It gets us through the moments we once thought we could not master. The times when we had to just push through. The times when we put our foot down hard on the expected right way. When we said NO out loud to do it our way. Brushed off knees on an off-road trail. Rocks and misdirection, open arms for the risk worth taking.
Jake started home school this week. He chose Spanish and I prepped my lessons. I used indirect prompts to motivate him with low demands. He told me “We do Spanish before lunch”. I agreed with confidence in mind, and to secure his buy-in. With PDA, I have found it is important to slide into tasks without altering autonomy. Parents like me fully understand the task at hand.
I knew we needed more to make it all stick. A laugh to start our lesson. This is what keeps Jake engaged. I started the lesson with ‘My name is Amelia Enchilada” Jake buckled over laughing. A silly start to a class. A customized approach that just makes it work. This is what works for now. And for now, we will capture the good, the learning, and the self-esteem. Whatever it takes. The shift and the slide, and the let’s try again. All that it is worth.
The calming of a nervous system. A continual quest. We stick to routines that work in our home. Routines that consistently have us all buckled over laughing. How can the same moments that make us happy not get old? I guess some moments make us happy every day.
Jake likes to show us the nightly tv lineup. We cheer with the titles in the guide. He likes to do specific activities at specific times. And just when you believe it will forever be the same, something ever so softly changes directions. Like a smooth, soft change in the wind.
Jake would always leave his phone charger downstairs on purpose, then walk to the top of the stairs to ask me to toss it up. I did this every night. It was the predictable routine. Then, one night I was in the basement doing laundry. He called for me and I was not there. Jake decided to walk downstairs to get his phone charger. Now he walks downstairs every night on his own. The routine slowly tweaked. A natural transformation. A gradual slide.
I use this “slide” method to incorporate things I want Jake to do. For example, he was not eating fruit. I wanted his diet to be healthier. He always refused fruit because it was not always consistent. The size, shape, and smell could vary. Yet, I knew he needed more healthy food in his diet. One night, I walked into his room with a sliced apple. I did not use words, just a big smile. I slowly placed the plate of apples on his bed like I was landing a plane. We used big waving kinds of hand gestures as I walked backwards through his door. We both laughed at the silliness of the bedroom fruit drop off. Now this is our routine, he expects the apple every night. Ways in which I have learned to embrace his OCD, autism, and PDA. Ways that I can tweak to slide something in.
Leaving the house is much harder and requires deep calculation. The reason why families like mine choose to stay home. The exhaustion of escalation. When we are finally out, we must think on our toes. An explanation based on learned hypervigilance.
On the way home from an outing with our dog in the car we had to stop at a convenience store. I needed to use the restroom. An overcrowded parking lot, but I ran in as fast as I could. A country song was playing on full blast. I waited in line, nervous about the time. When I got back into the car as we were pulling away, Jake looked at me in an overstressed way. He asked me what song was playing. I answered him with the name of the song, and he immediately shouted in a rage. The back of the front seat shook with the power of his escalation. A panic attack in full gear. “Take a minute, slow breaths” and a quiet car was needed. A sip of water and all the calm offered. The calm needed before any words could be said.
And then, finally we talked. Jake took his time. Finally, he was able to express it was our dog. He feared the crowded parking lot. He was scared that our dog would bark during the time I was in the restroom. The fear turned into a question about the song playing in the restroom. My answer only caused his fear to explode.
We learn. We learn it may be better to park farther away. To explain to Jake what we are doing. So, he can shift himself to find his own solutions. Not try to change himself to force fears away. We shift, we slide, we tweak, and we learn. We are always learning.
Back to school this year felt just a little heavy. This was the year Jake should have started his senior high school year. The pictures flow into social media. The big celebrations, the college choices, and the homecoming games.
Our school experience was different. It was all how it transpired. It was wrong. It was not Jake’s fault. We could not pick up sand. It was always slipping through our hands.
We chose another path. We chose to not hover over the aftermath.
The right way. The way that shifts, slides, and bends.
The daily doses of laughs. What keeps us all together.
What is worth it.
And what will last.
