Domestic Psychology

where’s the hitchhiker’s guide when you need it?

// March 25th, 2009 // No Comments » // aspergers, school, teenagers

We always knew that the group bathroom in the college dorm would be a problem for Tommy. It has been a constant source of annoyance for Tommy and the resulting poor hygiene has been the topic of far too many weekend conversations. Still, I was caught off guard yesterday, with just a few weeks remaining until finals, Tommy sent me a rapid-fire series of text messages complaining about the bathrooms.

“Ever since Spring Break, the bathroom is ALWAYS crowded.”
“I can’t even shower late at night now.”
“Too many people.”
“They talk in the bathroom.”
“You’re not supposed to look at other people in the bathroom.”
“I can’t do anything with all those people talking.”
“They’re mostly *foreign students talking.”
“I guess it’s different where they’re from.”
“We don’t do that.”

Tommy was worked up and having a tizzy over something that I can’t control. I tried to convince him to visit Student Services and just talk to them until he could calm himself. He wouldn’t do it. Despite dozens of e-mails, phone calls and meetings, Tommy still won’t use Student Services. He won’t talk to professors. He will not ask for help of any kind. After 18 years of being the center of attention, Tommy has connected succeeding with blending in to the woodwork. Apparently, life hasn’t been difficult enough for Tommy. Now he wants to make it more difficult.

*I don’t know what he meant by this. He might think students from Texas are foreigners. The middle of Asperger drama was not the time to discuss it.

smells like . . . oatmeal

// January 13th, 2009 // 5 Comments » // aspergers, parenting, school, teenagers

Tommy: “Mom, can you get by the co-op this week?”
Me: “Umm, why? Do you need something?”
Tommy: “Yeah, my dorm room gets really stinky, so I want some horse feed to leave out in a bowl to make the room smell good. Not the cheap feed though. The good stuff that smells so fresh.”
Me: “Horse food as potpourri?”
Tommy: “Yes. Thanks mom.”
Me: “Would you like some wood chips or hay to throw down on the floor in your dorm room?”

college is not summer camp

// January 11th, 2009 // No Comments » // aspergers, parenting, school

Tommy’s first semester away at school we learned exactly how much he has changed and just how much things remain the same. The biggest surprise was that Tommy made friends. Real, honest-to-goodness, not orchestrated by parents, friends. Tommy and his friends played games, watched movies and went shopping. You know what they didn’t do? Study. At least one member of the merry little group of campus campers didn’t return this semester. Tommy almost joined his friend in the stay at home and go to community college club. He is back at school now, but under a microscope of parental supervision.

Tommy’s first experience with an unsupervised play group wasn’t the only problem last semester. Tommy was supposed to check in weekly with a counselor who knew Tommy’s entire life story. The counselor had an envelope proving Tommy’s disability that was to be used to get Tommy accommodations. Tommy’s handwriting hasn’t improved since the first grade. It’s not just illegible, it’s a source of stress and anxiety that needs to be fought separate from a college classroom. Tommy needs to do assignments and tests on a word processor or verbally or anything except a blue book. Those adaptations were never made. The appointments with the counselor stopped within the first few weeks and we didn’t understand what was happening until Tommy was deep in the semester. Eventually we learned that when the counselor transferred to another department, Tommy’s files were stuck in a box and dumped in someone else’s office. It’s not the college’s fault. The real world doesn’t hold your hand like elementary school does. We were just so elated that Tommy was happy and interacting with NT peers for the first time in his life that we forgot Tommy has no self management skills. The balance between not treating him like the little boy that he is maturity-wise and the young man that he is physically is incredibly difficult and we don’t have it figured out yet.

I want to say that if this semester goes poorly academically, it was a wonderful year of social growth, but I’m just not feeling that open-minded yet. I don’t want to have to say that. I want to say that we stumbled when we threw Tommy to the wolves without any help and then we learned as we went how to help the child who wasn’t supposed to read, make it through college.

Tommy says:

// November 4th, 2008 // 4 Comments » // kid quotes, politics

“People have been cheering all night up here. Everyone is really happy.”

Politically involved 18-22 year olds at a very small college in Appalachia are celebrating right now. Instead of screaming and cheering, I weep quiet tears of happiness. Tomorrow, we must begin moving forward as a united nation. As difficult as the past two years were, they were easy compared to the tasks that we face now, but for ourselves and our children, yes we can.

Dear Tommy,

// October 5th, 2008 // 1 Comment » // flickr, home, parenting, pets, siblings

I am beyond thrilled that you are happy at school with your friends. I can see that if this college doesn’t work out, you are going to need to live away from home to be happy and functional. However, we need to talk about two things. First, let’s talk about your room. I like it staying clean from non-use, but there are still six people in this small house. Four of those people are actively campaigning for custody of your room. If we are only going to see you one day a month, you are going to find your new room is a cleared out space in the basement. I know it’s not fair to you. This will always be your home, but the people who are still sharing bedrooms are higher priority than the family member who only comes home for laundry and food.

The other thing we need to discuss is your snake. I enjoy giving him attention every day and his weekly swim is very entertaining. I don’t love that the only meat in our freezer is a bag of small mice. Dad cleans out the litterbox, but somehow, cleaning up the snake’s poop that looks like it could have come out of the cat has become my job. Again, I am less than thrilled with this new chore. If you pass your classes this semester, your snake is either going to live with you or we are going to be honest and call him my snake. When he is mine, the first thing I will do is change his name. Bahamut is a very intimidating name and this little guy is extremely gentle and quietly curious. He’s more of a Monty.

I love you and I miss you.

Mom

Up, up and away

// September 29th, 2008 // No Comments » // aspergers, parenting

After taking Tommy to the Greek food eatathon, we dropped him off at Pellissippi to spend the day watching hot air balloons with his friend. Then, we went on an extremely rare dinner outing with our friends. Before we even had our food on the table, my phone rang. “The glow is at eight. You have to be here.” Tommy could have clarified that the glow was a low tech laser light show. It didn’t matter though, we were having dinner, not watching balloons. I ate a few bites and my phone beeped with a text message. “It’ll be cool.” A few more bites and another message. “The world’s largest hot air balloon is here.” After a dozen text messages, I gave up on getting to talk to the grownups and we rushed to find out what was going on with Tommy. As we walked toward the crowd, Doug wondered aloud if Tommy was overstimmed by the festival. I was instantly aware of the muggy heat, large crowds, loud music, flame noises, food smells and fuel vapors. I distractedly clicked pictures while searching for Tommy. We made our way around the lake and searched the balloon area. Doug spotted him first. I just stood there in disbelief. My child, who I worry about constantly, was intensely focused on the hot air balloon at the end of the rope he was holding. I walked closer, my mouth hanging open so wide I could have captured half a dozen gnats. Tommy saw me and barely nodded. He worked the rope with more concentration and physical strength than I have ever seen from him. Not only did he work the balloon crew all day, he stayed there for several hours afterward to help with the takedown and packing. Except for the part where I was recruited to hoist the flattened and folded balloon into its’ storage cart, I watched Tommy instead of the balloons. I watched a completely different person than the boy who I left at college last month. I don’t know if Tommy will pass his classes. He went such a long time without any education during his childhood that he has serious gaps in his abilities. He can tell you about history, but he can’t write down what he knows. Tommy is going to be okay though. He may live a nomadic life following hot air balloons around the world or he might work on a horse ranch. I am no longer clearing the path for him. Tommy is paving his own road.

Saturday

// September 27th, 2008 // 3 Comments » // flickr, food, local

Greek food wins every time

// September 25th, 2008 // 2 Comments » // food, local, parenting

After a month away at school, Tommy is finally coming home for the weekend. Not to see us, but to visit Greekfest. He doesn’t care about the church service, the dancing, the music, the outfits or the people. He only wants to eat the delicious food. I like everything about Greekfest, but there’s no denying that the food is the best part of the weekend. They should just call it “Eat till you sleep fest.” The recipes are happily shared. I just can’t replicate them. It’s a shame to have to eat a year’s worth of Greek pastry in one day, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

high school is like home

// September 20th, 2008 // No Comments » // local, people, school

I still don’t have a picture of Sarah doing the half-time show that I really like. I tried again last night. On my way into the stadium, a vice-principal waved and asked me about Tommy. A few minutes later, a parent asked me how Tommy is doing. Almost immediately another parent asked, followed quickly by a teacher checking on Tommy. Before I left the high school campus, more than a dozen different people kindly stopped me and asked about a child who is no longer a student at that school. High school is a community unlike any other. It is a place where every child matters. Friday night football games are family reunions. Not Tyler Perryish passive-aggressive family gatherings, but spirit-nurturing family reunions. High School is your great grandmother’s house. You don’t live there, but it is always home.

world’s longest umbilical cord

// September 14th, 2008 // 6 Comments » // aspergers, parenting

Thursday night, Tommy called to say that he wanted to stay at school instead of coming home. Fine. Then, he asked me to bring him clean clothes. Not fine. I explained that ALL of his pants and underwear were already in his dorm room. Without a moment’s hesitation he asked me to drive up the Kentucky border and do his laundry for him. Doug said no. Friday, as *gas prices soared and stations ran dry, I texted Tommy that he would have to do his own laundry. Tommy sent back, “PLEASE Mom. I need you.” My heart shattered in a million pieces. Doug sat silently while I hysterically explained why I shouldn’t go and what a bad precedent it would set. Then, he handed me $20 and told me to drive safely.

I criticized myself the entire drive there. I sang along with the radio. “Stupid, stupid, stuuuu-pid me.” Sometimes, I didn’t have to make up my own lyrics. “Insane in the membrane. Insane in the brain.” As with every trip before it, the drive on the Interstate was the easy part. Once I hit the two lane highway, the drive became drudgery. Just as I thought I was going to fall asleep, the mountains came into view. Mountains take my breath away. I found myself breathing short, shallow breaths and I drifted the rest of the journey in a hypnotic calm. Perhaps it was this calm that caused me to be so surprised by the sight of my son jumping up and down on the road that leads to his dorm. The child who is twice my size and usually operating in low gear was waving both of his arms and smiling as if he hadn’t seen me in ages. The two weeks felt like forever to me, but I didn’t expect him to be so happy to see me. I parked the car and readied myself for a rib-crushing hug. Tommy opened the car door as he called, “Molly!” He gave the DOG my hug and the two of them raced around the building.

After showing off the dog who he missed more than me, Tommy loaded his laundry in the car and we went out in search of a laundromat. Yes, the dorm has a laundry area. I think the only thing worse than your Mommy driving two hours to do your laundry would be your Mommy doing it in the boys’ dorm. We drove into Kentucky, to the town that distributes the Christmas shoe boxes and care packages to the very neediest people in Appalachia. The dirty, crowded laundromat made me homesick for the luxury of my neighborhood laundromat. I talked, talked, talked laundry as Tommy cheerfully sorted and loaded the machines. He did his own laundry until it was ready to be folded. Then, I thought I would have a seizure if I didn’t jump in and fold the clothes with him. I tried ignoring the way he was folding the clothes. Really, I did. It was just so very wrong. Do you know why Doug never folds laundry at home? Because he does it wrong too. What? Like you don’t have things at your house that you think nobody else can do correctly? Riiiight.

With Tommy’s laundry done, we made a quick stop at WalMall for Tommy’s Sprite and cereal needs. No, he doesn’t mix them together. I drove through the small, square burger restaurant and dropped Tommy back at his dorm. He was calm and content. I was glad I made the foolish trip. I didn’t realize it, but I needed to see Tommy. I drove home listening to the Hurricane news reporters. They bragged about staying in a hotel with flooded first floors. They stood outside and described trees flying through the air. They deserve a diagnosis more than Tommy does. I texted Tommy today and asked him what he does on the weekends. “Be normal. Be happy.”

* Doug told me that the only thing anyone wants to read or talk about right now is gasoline. This is the only time I am going to mention the whole media-induced panic.