An Unexpected Gift

Whenever Ethan and I meet someone, I usually have to tell him, "Can you say hi, Ethan?" It happens so frequently, the words spill out of my mouth before I realize it. "Say hi, Ethan." He'll usually mumble hi, and look away.
Poor social skills such as these are a hallmark trait of autism. Temple Grandin, a woman with autism who has a doctorate degree and often speaks at autism conferences, says she has a difficult time socializing because she can't interpret people's facial expressions or follow the usual give and take of a conversation. It has taken much practice and self-awareness for her to develop skills that are inherent for most people.
Ethan's social deficiencies are a deep source of worry for me, which is why I constantly tell him to say hello. I had no idea Ehtan actually appreciated my nagging until today at his Mother's Day school recital. One by one the kids held up a laminated picture with a typed sentence on it saying why their moms are special. When it was Ethan's turn, he held the sign up and said, "My mom is special because when I'm shy she she stays behind me and says hi." He drew a picture of me standing behind him, facing another little boy he wants to talk to.
I could barely hold back the tears when he then walked up to me and hugged me. It was one of those moments when I felt profoundly grateful for being a mom.

Family Outings Really Can Be Fun

Once upon a time, in my work life, I went to many Chicago Cubs and White Sox baseball games. Some were through my husband's work, and some were essentially press junkets through my editing jobs at various trade magazines. Then I had Ethan, quit my job, and the free Major League baseball tickets disappeared.

Until this past weekend. Terry got four tickets from his boss to see the Colorado Rockies play the Dodgers this past Saturday at Coors Field. At first he tried to get some friends together to see the game, but everyone had plans. So, gulp, instead of waste the tickets, we decided to take the kids.

For many families, taking 6-year-old and 3-year-old boys to a ball game would be a no brainer. But our kids' hyperactivity and sensitivities to crowds, noise and new situations make going to a crowded baseball stadium a minefield. It was a total crapshoot as to whether Ethan or James would stay in their seats and enjoy the game, or get overwelmed by the crowds and the noise and have huge meltdowns.

But, we figured, we got free tickets--it's not a huge loss if we drive 30 minutes down to Coors Field only to get back in the car and drive home.

So off we go to Coors Field. The weather was in our favor--it's a mild spring evening. We find parking and walk up to the stadium. We get past security, get a bag of peanuts for the kids and find our seats.

We knew our seats were good, but not this good--we're in the second row overlooking the Rockies dugout. I've never had seats this good. The baseball field shined like an emerald in the early evening light. I got a beer and took in the sights and sounds of the stadium--the lights, the music, the people joined in the common cause of seeing the Rockies win. I get my mind off of my kids, their developmental delays, our therapy bills, our problems of everyday family life. Please, I think, let my kids cooperate so we can watch this game.

It turns out my kids were as taken by the atmosphere as I was. They relaxed in their seats and focused on breaking up the peanut shells to extract the nuts. Ethan, whom loves loud music, clapped enthusiastically to every rock song played during the game. When Matt Holliday hit a home run and the crowd cheered, Ethan and James broke into smiles and clapped along with them.

The magic lasted about five innings. Then Ethan and James started getting tired and bored, and we knew it was time to go. As Terry and I walked to our car, our kids in tow, we felt so grateful that this effort wasn't a waste of time. Better yet, if Terry got tickets to another game, we could confidently take the kids on a fun outing for all of us.