Apologies...

I used to hate being late.  Granted, I never wanted to be early either.  To have to awkwardly wait for someone, all the time wondering in my head if they were still coming, if I had gotten the time or location mixed up, if they wanted to see me at all.  All that anxiety over a silly meet up.  It can be tough when you don't want to be late but also don't want to be early but I've learned that I seem to be a walking contradiction.

But my problems were solved when I had kids and then when I had 2 kids under 2, at least this problem was.  You can't expect a new parent to be on time or even crazier, early, for anything.  Wrangling 2 children who can't hardly do anything for themselves... this was just the excuse that I needed.  I could let go of the guilt of being late.  I wouldn't have to stress about being early.  And should planets align and I actually arrive early for something, I could just sit back and take pride in the fact that I managed to get 2 monkeys shod, dressed and into carseats.  It would be a good day.

Then the kids grew.  They became more independent and they became more independent.  It was no longer a victory to get the shoes on their feet.  It was a victory to get them to want to put shoes on their feet.  Free will can be such a frustrating thing.

I'm now back to wanting to be on time.  I'm expected to be on time and yet, it continues to be a next to impossible task.  You see, the challenges have changed.

"Caleb, it's time to get shoes on and go to church"

"No" or my new favorite phrase (sarcasm alert) "I don't feel like it"

And the challenge begins.  Can I think fast enough to get the boy to want to go out into the world or do we plow through a fit until he finally gives in and accepts that mama is getting her way?  This is life on the spectrum.  The boy would love to spend every day, every hour of every day, at home with his nose in a book.  Sure the boy enjoys going to school, playing at the playground, going to the library but not always enough to take that first step in getting ready and out the door.

I don't often plan outings after coming home from school.  If we come home for lunch, most days, we're not going back out, unless it's to OT (that's part of the weekly routine so that's okay).  After convincing him to get up and get ready for school, it's just tiring to have to convince him to go out again especially when mama can sympathize with his desire to just be home.  Mama also likes to just be home.  This is life on the spectrum sometimes.

So getting the boy out the door when he knows it's what he has to do (like going to school) can be challenging.  Try getting the boy out the door when it's unexpected, like to the doctors.  This can be tricky, unless of course, he's too sick to really put up a fight.

Today our fun was whether or not there was school for Veteran's Day.  We all were up and the boy said that he didn't have to go to school (and no, this is not my guy trying to get out of school.  we don't really play those games on our part of the spectrum).  I said okay but let me check your folder and there I made my first blunder.  You see I have trouble reading all the words.  I can't explain it but my husband knows full well that I skim and I don't do it very well.  If I have anything important to read, I give it to him.  It's really sad but that's how I am.  And so I skimmed the weekly notice in his folder and sure enough saw the note, No School, Friday November...  Kind of skipped over the entire date.  So I told Daddy, the boy is right.  No school.  Of course my 6 yr old knows these things.  He knows lots of things, like that giant squids migrate.  The girl, we question.  The boy, not so much.  So Daddy took Sadie to school, Caleb started pouring over the toy catalog for the umpteenth time and I went to check email.

Then my phone rings.  It's Daddy.

"Are you sure he doesn't have school?  There are kids at the bus stop"

"I swear his folder said no but I'll check again"

Um, yeah, No School, Friday, November 5 for conferences.  Crap, crap, crap.

And of course, my boy is now set on staying home.  I employ all the usual parenting techniques.  I bribe- if you go to school, Daddy and I have a special surprise for you this afternoon.  I threaten- you know what happens when you stay home from school and you're not sick (the police come).  I mean business- Caleb, this is unacceptable.  You are expected to get ready and go to school.  I threaten again- if you don't get dressed, I'll send you to school in your pjs.

I thought that we were headed for another meltdown.  We had one earlier this week and I really didn't want to deal with it again.  I gave him one more chance... Mommy's going to get dressed.  You have 2 minutes to get yourself ready to go to school (I don't even have an or else because I'm out of ideas).  And while I go down the hall to my room a little voice asks for 3 minutes.  This just isn't going to go well.  I get dressed and start back towards his room.  Okay, buddy, I gave you 4 minutes.  A whole extra minute (in my most enthusiastic voice.  It's all about not showing fear).  He's under his covers.  This isn't good.  I cheerfully pull off the covers and declare it's time to get ready.  I pull out his comfy pants from his drawer and I'm met with a compliant little guy, ready to get dressed and go to school.

I don't know how it happens.  It's so stinkin' unpredictable.  I can't always tell when one thing will work and when it won't.  Life on the spectrum sometimes... you have to think quick and always be willing to bend and yet still keep your expectations consistent.  And yet, my part of the spectrum is so easy compared to some.

So, my apologies if you find yourself waiting for me.  I do value your time and I do admit that sometimes its my own fault that I'm running behind, sometimes it's the girl dawdling trying to find her missing sunglasses because she can't bear to go out to face her public without them, but sometimes it's life on the spectrum throwing us a curve.