My Impulive Mac Genius

Matty - my Mac Genius

Last weekend I was out with Kathryn for the evening.  Periodically, I looked down to check my phone for messages.  I noticed I had an unusual amount of new emails for 8pm on a Saturday night.  Curiosity got the best of me, and I checked.  There were about 10 emails from Apple telling me that the owner of the email address mattymac2004@gmail.com (guess who) has tried to reset his apple ID.   Lots of times.   If anyone can figure out how to bypass a password or reset something on an iPad, it’s Matthew.  The rule in our house about iPads is – DON’T GO TO SETTINGS.  But he just can’t stop himself.

The iPod in Polish!

Matty has a small iPod in his room connected to a speaker specifically for playing his “sleepy music”.  Here is what it looks like after he's had his impulsive button pressing session with it.

Yes, he changed the language to Polish (he broke that “don’t go to settings” rule).  I was afraid he set some alarms to go off in the middle of the night and I don’t know the Polish word for “alarm” or “clock”.  Luckily, it only took me about 12 minutes to get it back to English. 

Have you ever forgotten a password on an iPhone, iPad or other device?  After trying out different passwords, you receive a message that you are locked out for a certain time period.  It usually starts with 15 minutes, then builds up to an hour, and then lengthens from there.  A few months ago, Matthew successfully changed the password on his iPad (yes, he broke the “no going to settings rule” yet again).   Unfortunately, he did not remember the new password.  The next time he was trying to get into his iPad, it was a huge problem.  

I did the math on 84,287 minutes and realized it was 2 months.  Off to the Apple store we went.

As the Mac Genius in the Apple Store was helping us reset the iPad, he looked down at Matthew, who was sitting at the kids’ table checking his email on the store iPads.  With a surprised look on his face, the Mac Genius said, “Wow, that’s the first time a kid has ever set up his email account on one of our iPads”.  I am pretty sure that was meant as a complement.  I think I can be hopeful that there may be a place for Matty among Apple Store employees when he grows up. 

Impulsive.  Compulsive.  These words describe Matthew well.  He is acting on impulse all the time, and he is also obsessive about his actions. A lot of kids with autism and other disabilities face these challenges.

 

Parking lots are dangerous places for us.  If Matthew sees something he wants to touch, he is going to dart across to get to it.  Thankfully, we live on a quiet street, because he will run across without looking.  He has to touch the neighbor’s garbage cans, or see what they put in their recycling cans.   The buffet at Whole Foods?   Forget it.  He will touch every food he gets close to.  Including the steaming hot pot of white rice.  If you see us there, I either have a hand on him or am constantly reminding him to have “quiet hands”.   

 

Do you know what this piece of plastic is?  It's a seat belt lock.  It deters Matthew from taking off his own seat belt in the car.  Of course he does know how to take the lock off, it just takes him longer when he has this on. 

 We are trying to give him more privacy and independence in the bathroom.  After all, he is 11 years old.  Here is what happened recently in the bathroom when he said he needed his privacy.

He unscrewed the hot light bulb.
"Just to see what will happen"

So, what happened?  One less light bulb and
one new mess for mom to clean up.

We have been breaking in a new sitter for Matthew.  I showed him (yes, a male sitter in high school!) what to do if Matthew locks him out of the house or if Matthew locks him (the sitter) in his room (yes, this has happened before!).  I showed him what foods are safe for Matthew to eat and taught him what Matthew will try to get away with.  When I asked if he had any questions, he asked, “what do I do if I have to use the bathroom?”.   In other words, what happens during those 30 seconds when Matthew is not being watched?  Great question!  That’s what it feels like to live with Matthew.  He needs eyes on him all the time.  The impulsivity – it’s draining and exhausting.

Last week, I had to take the kids to CVS.  While we were paying, the customer ahead of us who had just left the store came back in and was looking through her bags.  The clerk noticed and asked if everything was OK.  She responded that she was looking for her keys.  Quickly and impulsively, Matthew walked a few feet over to where she was standing looking through her bags and asked, “what if you can’t find your keys?”  She responded, “then I will need a ride home”.  So he said “Where do you live, my mom can drive you.” 

So if impulsive is how he functions, I will take it because he has such an impulsively kind heart.  Sure, he causes exhaustion, weariness, anger and a host of other emotions at home with his impulsive behaviors – especially on the electronic devices.  I waste tons of time going to the Apple Store and hours spent on-line with Apple Support.  It is hard to clean up the messes, both physical and emotional, that he brings on.  But at the end of the day, I am so thankful Matty is mine, because he impulsively offers rides home to strangers in need and sends me these messages daily.

 

On My Toes - Learning about Grace

People who see me in action with Matthew will often comment, “well, he sure keeps you on your toes.”    Greg and I are always anticipating his next, unexpected move.  Sometimes it’s an amusing move, like the time in church at the end of the service when he ran up to the pulpit to wish everyone a “happy Sunday” on the microphone.  Other times, it’s a dangerous move, like the time we were in a rental car and had only activated “child lock” on his door, but not on Kathryn’s.  Lesson learned.  He reached across Kathryn, manually unlocked her door and then opened her door while we were driving on a highway.  Thank God no one got hurt.  It took me months to get over that moment.  

For those of you who have never had to use it, "Child Lock" is found inside the car door and can be activated by pushing down this little switch.  Every car has it on the back car doors. 

 Matthew was invited to a family friend’s movie-themed birthday party last year, and we went together for about an hour of it.   All of the kids sat on bean bag chairs, eating popcorn while watching the movie.  I stood in my “ready stance” to the side of the TV and DVD player.  I know my boy, and when he sees a button, he is going to push it – it’s only a matter of time.  I was impressed that he waited about 20 minutes into the movie before darting to the DVD player to attempt his attack on pushing the DVD player’s various buttons.  I like to think that my time as a high school athlete helped develop my quick reflexes to defend the DVD buttons in the nick of time.   Crisis averted, the movie played on!   

Yup, I had skills back in the 80's!

I look at other kids his age and am jealous for a moment.   Jealous that their parents don’t have to strategically plan where they sit in church so their child won’t reach the pulpit microphone before they can catch them.  Jealous that their child understands the basics of car safety and won’t try to open a door in a moving car.   Jealous that their child will sit through an entire movie without trying to push the buttons on the DVD player to examine the cause and effect of that action.   Jealous that they can sit and relax and not have to anticipate the unexpected in each moment they spend with their child.   Keeping on your toes is exhausting.  Take it from me.  

In these moments, I know I am not graceful in my thoughts or my movements.  I am tripping over my own two feet after deflecting his reach for the DVD player.  I am hyperventilating after realizing the dangers that we avoided in the car.   I am not graceful.  I am clumsy.  I yell, I scream, I cry, and I learn.  I listen, I observe, I hope, and I pray.  I will continue to trip over my own two feet as I wait for Matthew’s next unexpected move.  I am not moving gracefully, but I am given grace.  The term, grace can be interpreted in many ways by different people.  The definition I relate to calls grace a gift.**  I have been given this gift.  The gift of Matthew.  Life gives us plenty of unexpected moments.  Thank you, Matty, for keeping me on my toes.  

On the microphone at church, wishing everyone a "Happy Sunday"!

 As I was finishing my edits on this piece, Greg told me he and Matthew were at CVS this evening – he turned his back for one moment and turned around to find Matthew at the MoneyGram machine – he was about to wire money using Greg’s phone number to someone in Belarus.  Seriously, you can’t anticipate that move!  

** Thank you, Dad, for helping me out with your "word geek skills"!

What's Your Favorite F-Word?

No, no.  Not the
F-word you may be thinking! 

Fabulous. Fantastic.  Fun.   

These are the words Matthew likes to use when he wishes his email and texting friends a “Happy Happy Fantabulous and Funny Friday”.  He even has shirts about Friday, his favorite day. 

Matty in one of his favorite Friday shirts!

Matthew’s love of Friday all started when he became interested in garbage trucks back in 
1^st grade.  Yes, Fantastic Friday is our garbage day.  He would sing the reasons why Friday was his favorite day and we came up with a long list of more than 20 reasons why Fridays are so fabulous.  We had to write all these reasons down so we wouldn’t forget them.  (Pizza day, garbage day, Mrs. Strickland’s garbage day to name a few).

Has Matthew found the essence of practicing gratitude?   Yes, I believe he has.
He’s been making lists of what he likes about each day of the week for years, which translates into what he is grateful for.  “Mommy, Happy Happy Terrific Tuesday,” he blurted out this morning as he woke me up.  Although it’s an early wake up call each morning, he does begin my days with a smile since he is so positive as he lists all the things he is looking forward to during his upcoming day. 

Now, of course there are times when autism and intellectual disability get in the way of his joyful attitude towards the days of the week and his gratitude lists.  “Mommy, I
want to skip Thankful Thursday and go straight to Fun Friday,” he tells me most
Wonderful Wednesday evenings when I am putting him to bed.  Waiting that one extra day to get to garbage day is just too long to wait.  Some Thursdays become Thrashing and Thunderous in our house because it’s in the way of getting to Fun Friday.  It’s really hard to live with Matthew when he gets stuck in this cycle of thinking.

As a mom who must practice “extreme parenting” because of Matthew’s special needs (thank you Suzanne B. for coining this phrase), I know I try my hardest to make the world a friendly and tolerable place for Matthew to live.  I want to make it possible to prevent him from getting stuck in his thinking patterns. 

o   Restaurant too loud?  Let’s go outside for a walk. 
o   Line for airport security a mile long?  Put Matthew in a wheelchair to bypass the line.**    
o   School van is supposed to come at 8:11 and now it’s 8:13?  I use my improvisational    
     skills as I spontaneously sing lyrics to him, which include reasons why the van driver is  
     late (like most individuals with autism, Matthew responds quickly and positively to music). 
o   Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to take Thursday off the calendar.    
     Sorry, Matty.  You’ll live.

A friend recommended a great book a few years ago about how to teach gratitude to kids (Raising Happiness).  One of the tips I took away from this book, is to pause throughout the day to let my children know when I have stopped to become mindful in the moment by saying something like, “tonight, when I lie in bed and think about my day, I will remember this moment with you as one of my favorite moments.”  The hope here is to teach kids how to savor moments and practice gratitude.  I love this lesson. 

One of the ways autism presents itself in Matthew, is his need for people to say certain things at specific times (yes, part of the stuck thinking).  After Greg takes a shower, Matthew always asks, “How was your shower, Daddy?”   Greg’s response has to be, “Refreshing.”  Matthew has gained a keen sense for when I am going to talk to him about savoring the moment.  Usually, just as I am about to say it, he will ask, “Mommy, are you going to think about this moment tonight when you go to bed?”  His autism makes him rigid, yet it helps him (and me) to remember to savor moments and practice gratitude. 

Yes, there are many difficult moments when I am just so F^<&ing exhausted of trying to figure it out.  Trying to figure out how he thinks so I can help him.  In these moments, I often do use my true favorite F word (under my breath of course)! 

Recently, in Matthew’s daily emails and texts to his family and friends, he has asked for a list of favorite W words on Wednesday or M words on Monday, and of course, F words on Friday (see example below).    When he requests the list of F words, I think he is trying to expand on his repertoire of alliteration for the days of the week, but I am going to allow his request for F words to remind me to make a mental list of what I am grateful for.  

One of his texting BFF's, Molly D. thank you for allowing me to post this great email you sent! (And thank you to SO MANY family and friends for keeping Matty occupied & happy with your daily emails and texts.)

Happy Happy almost Fun, Fabulous, Freaky Friday – from Matthew and me!

**Regarding my mention of using a wheelchair in the airport.  I will expand on that in a future post.

OPEN!

“Open, Open!!”  This is what Matty shouts each week when he waits for the All Waste Garbage Truck to come and take our trash away.  He wants the tops of the cans to be left open by the arm of the truck.  I don’t know why – it’s one of his “things”.  You can hear him shouting with great excitement, “Open! Open on the grass!” as if he were routing for his favorite football team.  Nope, it’s not football, it’s a garbage can.    

(Here is a 6 second video so you can truly appreciate his excitement - with his happy hops!)

Even when he holds the iPad to watch garbage truck videos on YouTube with his headphones on, we hear him yelling “OPEN, OPEN!” to the trucks in the videos.  (Yes, people do post 15 minute-long videos of garbage trucks picking up garbage cans, and for this I am extremely grateful).

Occasionally, he earns the prize of following the garbage truck on what we call a “garbage car ride” (after great behavior reports from school for a week).  

Sometimes, this makes make me feel like I am missing out – other parents are enjoying shared interests with their children.  They are laughing together at the movie theater or enjoying a sporting event together.  On rainy weekend afternoons, they are relaxing at home putting a jigsaw puzzle together or playing XBOX.   Not us.  Greg and I are taking turns driving around looking for the garbage truck with Matty.

“Just for me, Mommy, he left it open just for me?” I hear Matty ask from the backseat as I drive behind the garbage truck – all the drivers know Matty by name and wave at him when they turn around in cul-de-sacs.   He is practically hanging out my car window greeting the truck drivers.  

“Yes, Matty, he did leave it open just for you.” I respond.  Really, it’s just the force of how quickly the can is dropped, I think, but I can’t tell him that!

“I guess he is in an open mood, Mommy.”  Matty is a great conversationalist.

This truck is doing it right by Matty's standards - putting this can down with the top OPEN.

This is how excited he gets when we actually find the Garbage Man so we can watch the truck pick up a neighborhood’s worth of cans. 

Somehow, Matty’s pure excitement for finding and watching the garbage truck has rubbed off on me.   No, I am not watching youTube videos about garbage in my spare time or yelling “OPEN”.  But his excitement has helped me to see things differently. 

Being Matthew’s mom has opened my mind to a whole new way of thinking.  In my PPL (Pre-Parenting Life), I had such a narrow view of how the world works.   Going through life now, with Matty by my side, my eyes have been opened to new ways of thinking, teaching and understanding the world each day.

The recycling truck driver who drives the garbage route in our neighborhood clearly understands how important open cans are to Matty.  He will lift our cans extra times, give them an “extra shake” till the can is deposited on the ground with the top open.  Yup, just for Matty. 

So, Matty, thank you for opening my heart, my thoughts and my mind. 

Dear Matthew...

"Before you were a parent, what did you expect motherhood to feel like?  And how is it different now that you live in the world of parenting a child with special needs?”

These were questions that I posed to my colleagues last week in preparation for a conference we presented dedicated to parents raising children with special needs.  

Here are some of MY answers – along with a thank you letter to Matthew:

Notice his flapping hands - he is SO excited!

I figured that being Matthew’s mom would include playing soccer or a game of catch in the backyard before driving him to his soccer practices or baseball games.  I didn’t picture that the driving we do together actually has no destination.  Matthew’s favorite thing to do together is to drive around looking for the garbage truck.  I didn’t know how heartbreaking it would feel to drive past those athletic fields packed with other people’s kids playing on teams while we search for the All Waste truck.

Matty at the amusement park this summer - do you think he's enjoying it!?

I thought that being Matthew’s mom would mean summers that included day trips to the beach or an amusement park – I pictured of course, that we’d bring his friends along on our excursions.  I didn’t realize that spontaneous would no longer be a part of my life – it’s all about keeping to the safe and predictable routines now – and that friends for my son to invite to the beach are hard to find.

Stressed out face - vacations are stressful for Matty.

I thought a family vacation to Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard would include family bike rides, trips to the ice cream shop, buying souvenirs and relaxing on the beach.  I didn’t know that our family vacation time would be spent divided – one parent with one child at a time -  not buying souvenirs or ice cream in those shops, but rather asking what time those shops open and close each day.   This information is SO important to Matthew.  It gives structure to his unstructured vacation days.   Let’s not forget about finding out what time the streetlights go on at night – this is another activity that brings Matthew great joy and something that I would never imagine doing on vacation.

...and Matty is HAPPY!

Streetlights go on...

I pictured being a parent would mean speaking to my child’s teacher for parent conferences two times per school year, and perhaps a handful of other times.  I didn’t know I would be in  daily contact with my child’s team of teachers and therapists (special education, regular education, PT, OT, speech, school nurse and school psychologist…did I forget anyone?) to touch base about seizures, behaviors, protective holds, educational concerns and modified curriculum.  

Dear Matthew,

Before you came into my life, my view of the world was so narrow.  I was all about the product, not the process - the destination not the journey.  Thank you for helping me understand that it’s OK to drive around without a destination in mind.  That it’s a good thing to just enjoy the time we spend together driving around looking for the garbage truck.    Journey – not Destination.  Part of our positive energy comes from this journey we are on together. 

Our days at the beach don’t have to be filled with friends and social conversations.  Experiencing your pure joy when you watch the ocean waves crash over and over – each wave to you is just as exciting as the first one you saw – sending you into your excited “triple hop” – isn’t that what every mother wishes for?  To see her child so happy that he literally jumps with joy?

Matthew and Nana at the beach.

Our journey takes us to places that are difficult for me – like doctor appointments where new diagnoses are given, school events watching typical peers interact with each other the way I pictured you’d be able to one day, and simply having to admit and accept that I need more help from professionals to learn how to handle your behaviors at home.   Going to these difficult places is necessary, because it’s for you.  I wouldn’t go there on my own – you have held my hand each step of the way and made me stronger – able to take on the next part of our journey.

Matthew, thank you for teaching me to be brave and strong.  To be honest and stand up for you and your needs.   You’ve given me the strength and courage I’ve needed to teach others who are not a part of our journey, what it is like to travel the journey of life with disabilities. 

Thank you – for showing me what is truly important in life – it’s the journey, the process  - not the destination or end product.  Everyday I learn something from you – but the best thing you have taught me is that on our journey, we will continue to get to new places if we both feel happy and loved.   I am so lucky I get to be your mommy.

Love,

Mommy

Feel The Music

 I’m flashing back today  -  to a time when Matthew was 4 and Kathryn was 2.  We were at Kathryn’s music class – a fun 45-minute weekly experience. 

For years, Kathryn was dragged to speech therapy, occupational therapy, physical therapy and various other waiting rooms, for Matthew’s weekly appointments.  So when I finally had the opportunity to do something fun with her while Matthew was at his special needs preschool, I quickly signed us up for a baby music class.  It was so rewarding to watch my baby girl clap along, march in time, reach for the bubbles that Miss Kathye would blow from her bubble machine (a class favorite) and just enjoy the music!  It was such a different experience from those I had with Matthew – where I was always comparing him to same age peers – noticing all the things peers could do that he could not (like walk, talk, participate appropriately).  I actually felt successful as a parent, watching my daughter enjoy the music, play along and do what the other kids were doing.   I felt like I was doing this parenting thing right!

Here we are at music class with the amazing Miss Kathye!

One day we had to bring Matthew with us to class.  I guess Matthew didn’t have school that day.  Taking both kids anywhere at these ages by myself was a true challenge for me (who am I kidding, it is still a challenge today!) which caused great stress.    Miss Kathye started playing her “Hello, How Are You?” song on the guitar, and Matthew was right up there with her, his ear practically IN the guitar.  I was trying my best to give Kathryn the attention she needed and deserved, while prying Matthew off of Miss Kathye’s guitar.  I will never forget Miss Kathye’s words “don’t worry about it, Amy – he’s just trying to FEEL the music”.   Deep breath – the first one of my day - she gets him.   As moms of kids with special needs, we get caught up in the moments – trying to get our kids off guitars, or to stop turning light switches on and off obsessively – so it’s hard for us to see the bigger picture.  He’s trying to feel the music or learn about cause and effect (light switches).  Thank you, Miss Kathye, for understanding my boy!

Later in the class, during a “march around the room” type of song, Matthew pushed a little girl down and she started crying.   Talk about cause and effect, Matthew had to try again (I’m sure he was thinking:  “if I push her again, can I make her cry again?”)  Sure enough, he did it again.  Watching him do this made me so sad, embarrassed, alone, humiliated.  Why is he trying to hurt someone?  Why won’t he stop?  Why can’t I understand my own child?  It was too much for me.  I didn’t know how to handle it – so I had a mini-breakdown.  I grabbed Matthew off the girl  - had tears in my eyes, and didn’t know what to say or do.  (Strange moment for me – I’m a talker).  I knew giving his behavior more attention would cause him to push her down a 3^rd time.  But I couldn’t ignore that he had hurt another child.  Another mom from the class who I barely knew at the time noticed what was going on and in the midst of the marching song swooped over, whispered in my ear “I’ve got him, I’m a preschool special ed teacher, go to the bathroom and catch your breath”.  So I left the music room with Kathryn and went to the bathroom – I cried.  I tried to hide it from Kathryn age 2, as I splashed cold water in my face.  I cried for not understanding my own son, for the pure exhaustion of trying to get him to stop the difficult behaviors, I cried for myself, for not knowing how to handle this moment without crying.  I had to get myself together – fast.  I made it back to the music room and thanked the mom who took over for me with Matthew (what an absolute angel she is).   We made it through class and got home.  I don’t think I left the house with the two of them by myself again for many months.   

So I got home and allowed my thoughts to go to these dark places:

Why can’t I just take care of my own kids by myself?   Why can’t I take them to a 45- minute music class and have it feel like a fun morning?   I watched other moms with 3 or 4 kids successfully go to and from errands, music classes, with smiles on their faces as their kids obediently follow them through parking lots and get into their own car seats.  I thought that was how parenthood would be for me.  It’s not.

This reminds me of the time we went to the pool in my hometown for an afternoon of swimming when the kids were about 3 and 5.  I had my parents, a friend from growing up and myself to watch my 2 kids at the pool (yes, that’s 4 adults for my 2 kids).   While we were there, I ran into a friend’s husband with their 4 kids BY HIMSELF at the pool. I was truly dumbfounded.  How could he watch the 4 kids by himself?  What am I doing wrong that I need 4 adults to watch 2 kids? 

That day at the pool - they actually both fell asleep?  A first and a last time for everything!!

It’s not so much what I’m doing wrong, but more accepting the fact that this ratio is the level of support I need at any given moment to help care for Matthew’s needs.   It’s taken me years to accept this truth.  Perhaps I still don’t fully understand how true it is.

It’s time for me to feel the music – I don’t need to put my ear in the guitar, but I do need to accept the facts.  Matthew needs constant attention to stay safe.  This fact will likely not change over the course of his lifetime.  He needs support to understand dangerous situations.  He needs reminders to stop himself from touching the hot stove.  Everyday.  He needs help understanding stranger danger.  He needs help – so I need help.  Accept the help and be grateful.  Stop feeling embarrassed, sad, alone and humiliated.  Feel the music – the song is the truth. 

 

Feeling the music!
2008

The Joy of Routine and the Agony of School Delays

Holy S.  (Except I am saying the real word.)  This is what I am muttering, under my breath as Matthew’s van pulls away at 10am this morning.  We woke up to about 4 inches of snow, which in CT means a 90 minute delayed start of school instead of a snow day.   Holy S.   This morning feels like I have been through 10 hours of intense, yet unsuccessful behavior training.   Holy S.  Our morning routine is off, so Matty is off.

Routine.  Many of us crave it.  Some can’t operate without it.

Matthew requires routine.  It’s what keeps his world safe and happy.   He always knows which day he has art, gym, library and music at school before school even starts (he dictates an email to his new teacher each August to ask).  He knows Kathryn’s schedule, too, which is great because he reminds her to return her school library books on time!  His first grade teacher once told me that the Spanish teacher entered the classroom for her weekly Spanish lesson with the class.  Everyone, teachers and students included, were getting into the lesson and Matthew kept saying, “but Senora, today is Tuesday, we don’t have Spanish on Tuesday”.   Guess who was right?    Senora left and went next door to the correct class.

He loves predictability, structure and routine.  If the plumber comes over on a Tuesday after school to fix a sink, Matthew will certainly ask, “is he coming next Tuesday, too?” 

So, once we read the email about the delayed opening of school at 6am, all bets were off for a smooth morning around here.   Matthew was nervous, anxious, and those feelings generate difficult behaviors and poor choices.  I literally can’t leave him alone in a room.   His impulsivity mixed with anxiety makes it impossible for him to make good choices.  I turned my back to check on Kathryn and he was flushing the hand soap bottle down the toilet (hence, the plumber visiting our house a lot, so he might very well be back next Tuesday!).  When I went outside for one minute to shovel the small patch of snow that was outside our door, he thought that would be a good time to find my car keys (my mistake for not having them in my pocket) and push all the buttons opening my hatch back.   These are just 2 examples of many more that made my morning feel like a marathon of unsuccessful behavior training.

It is in these small, intense moments that I am in pain.  I feel like a parenting failure.  Why won’t he just listen/stop touching/sit still/pay attention/follow rules.  He is 9 ½ years old, not 2.  But the real pain is when I allow myself, for a brief moment to think about the future.  Will he still be this impulsive in 5 years?  Will I still have to follow him around when he’s 18 to make sure he isn’t touching a candle or running out into the street? 

In December, Matthew had lots of new routines that he enjoyed.  Our holiday lights were on a timer and went on precisely at 4:05pm each afternoon.  Starting at about 4:00, on any afternoon in December, you will find Matthew perched by the front window, waiting for those lights to go on.  And when they turn on every day at 4:05, he cheers and claps like he just won a million dollars. 

On Christmas Eve, the service at our church started at 4:30.  We knew we had to leave our home early to get a seat, but we had to time it around the lights magically turning on at 4:05.  The car was running in the driveway, we were all sitting in it bundled up, waiting for the lights to go on so we could pull out of the driveway. 

Here is Matthew before (anticipating lights going on):    

                                

 And the pure joy after:

                                  

Predictability.  Do you know what got us through the non-structured three days at Christmas time staying with Nana and Papa at their house?  Along with the dedicated help from Nana and Papa, and Deb, Ken, Doug and Erin – this clock.  

                                  

Every hour it played a different Christmas carol in Nana and Papa’s kitchen, and Matthew was perched next to it starting at 55 past the hour, just waiting for it.  This clock gave his day some structure.  He could count on this clock to sing a song every hour.

And these street lights:

Random picture of the street lights
in front of my parents' house.

             

Each morning they turned off by dawn and each evening they turned on at dusk.  Matthew

sat by the window and just watched until the street lights came on (or turned off).  He

wouldn’t dare miss it.  It’s his routine at Nana and Papa’s.  It’s what makes him feel

safe and happy.

Safe and happy.  Don’t we all want to feel this way?

Matthew has taught me there is goodness in routine.  When I am rushing through a meal, like tonight at dinner, he reminds me after a few bites, “Mommy, we forgot to say our dinner prayer,” and then he says one so beautifully.

Part of his routine as we say goodbye to each other every morning on the van is, “I love you mommy, you’re my favorite mommy.”  So even though I was muttering “Holy S” after the difficult, unsuccessful morning, I am reminded how lucky I am to be his mom.  (And lucky that it was just a 90 minute delay and not a snow day!!)

Matty and Papa watching the street lights turn on last summer.