Countdown to B-Day

Last Saturday we celebrated Ethan's birthday party at Pump It Up, which has a room full of jumpy castles for kids to play on, plus a party room for the cake and presents. Now that it's over, I can breathe a huge sigh of relief that we pulled it off and everyone had a good time. It seems a little silly to be so worried about a birthday party; millions of parents plan such events every weekend, and million of kids go, play, eat cake and have fun.

But we had a huge factor that could derail the success of this party--my son's autism. When Ethan gets overstimulated, he has a hard time calming down and usually ends up crying and screaming like a 2-year-old. So even though he loves to play in jumpy castles, all the jumping and running around could quickly make him overstimulated and set him off. I've had play dates at such places end up with me restraining him from running and crying from the room.

Another factor that could derail the festivities was Ethan's rigid expectations of how things should go. Kids with autism have little ability to readjust their thinking if things don't go as they expected. Last Christmas, for example, Ethan cried himself to sleep because we forgot to put candy in his stocking. He didn't NEED candy, he just expected it and couldn't recover quickly from the disappointment.

Because of these issues, we had never planned a big party for Ethan. But this year, Ethan started asking for a party at Pump It Up. Because he seeks a lot of sensory input, he is drawn to places like Pump It Up, where he can run around and jump and slide to his heart's content. We weighed the good and bad points of a Pump It Up party, and decided it was worth the risk. Yes, maybe he would get overstimulated and overwelmed, and end up screaming and crying. But, maybe, just maybe, he would just enjoy jumping, running and playing with his friends. It was a Catch 22--should we take the chance and do what our son wants for his birthday, or should we play it safe and do a family party at home? We rolled the dice and went with the big birthday party at Pump it Up. We made the reservation for the March 15.

From that day in January on, it was countdown to B-Day for me. Instead of being excited, I felt like I was going to get my teeth pulled. We mailed out 25 invitations, thinking maybe 15 would come. To our surprise, 25 kids rsvped! I was happy for the turnout, but also nervous that this many kids would be too overwelming for Ethan, and meltdowns would ensue. But it was too late to turn back now.

The 15th finally arrived. A part of me was scared, but also relieved to get this over with. Terry and I spent the week making 25 grab bags, ordering cakes, and buying snacks and water for the party. We also came up with a game plan--every 15 minutes we would pull Ethan from the room to get a drink of water so he'd have a chance to calm down from all the jumping. So there was nothing left to do except get in the car and drive over there.

We make it to Pump It Up, and the guests start arriving. Ethan is running around, excited, but not too hyper yet. Then we go in the jumpy castle room and Ethan bolts from one castle to the next. But, fortunately, he never got too hyper. He just blended in with all the other kids running, jumping and having a good time.

Next obstacle was the cake. Would he sit still long enough to blow out the candles? Would he smear frosting all over his face like he did at my niece's first birthday party? None of the disaster scenarios happened--he did a great job waiting through the birthday song for cake and eating it.

As people went to leave, they thanked us for inviting them and said they had a good time. It was so good to hear. But what really made all the stress and planning worth it was hearing Ethan say he had fun, too.

New Car Blues

We got our 2003 Toyota Matrix in 2002, right after I had Ethan. This was our first new car, so it was pretty exciting. Unfortunately, since I've been a stay-at-home mom, I'm driving all the time, which gives me plenty of chances to wreck this car, which I have come close to doing a couple of times.



The first time I damaged the car, I blamed it on the screaming kids. I got gas, and as I was pulling away from the pump, I looked up and saw a car right in front of me. I turned sharply to the left to avoid the car, and hit the poll next to the gas pump. The loud, scraping sound made me pretty nervous. Sure enough, when I got out of the car to check the damage, the driver's side had a huge scrape and was bent in. Who knew a poll could do so much damage?



That little accident cost us thousands of dollars, and lowered our driver safety rating with our car insurance considerably. You would think after such an incident, I would never damage our car again. But I was wrong. Again, I blame the kids.



This morning, Ethan doesn’t want to go to kindergarten and runs away from me as I nag him to get dressed. I finally get both in the car and start back out—White Stripes is blaring. I turn the wheel too soon and hit the lawn mower, which hooks onto the front bumper. I stupidly keep backing the car out and hear a loud crunch. I get out of the car and see that the lawn mower pulled half the front bumper off and it’s almost on the ground. I wanted to cry and scream at the same time. How could I have done this again? I call Terry and he is PISSED. He’s like—I have a meeting at 10 am—I’ll see what I can do after that. So I think—forget him, I’ve done so much damage to this car in the past, I know what to do. I call the body shop and make an appointment to get an estimate. Then call back Terry and he tells me to tie the bumper on with a rope, which I do. Then I drive over there, expecting to have to pay lots and lots of money we don’t have to fix this car, because we definitely don't want to file an insurance claim. But THANK GOD, the manager says if I pay the mechanic $50 cash, they’ll reattach the bumper for me, and it will only take 45 minutes. I was profoundly grateful. I thanked the mechanic several times. I was so prepared to write a huge check to fix this car; $50 feels like manna from heaven.



Why did I wreck the car for the second time? I kick myself, thinking I should have learned my lesson; then I blame my bad driving on my onry boys. Accusations aside, I can't help thinking, too, that this little run in with the lawn mower proved to me that people can be good and kind when you least expect it. Thank God for that.