Some people get it. Some don't.

Background information:

I have a 4 year old son with autism. He is almost completely non verbal, although some progress has been made on that front. Not enough as far as I'm concerned, but these things take time.

This school year he started an autism-specific preschool at a complex where people with disabilities from ages 3 to 22 receive services. Most of the students at this school are profoundly disabled and rely on wheelchairs for mobility.

My son is healthy and I thank God every day for that. I know nothing in this world is guaranteed.

On to my story. This past Thursday as I picked my son up from school, I ran into the head of maintenance at his school. His name is Rick. This man is someone I knew when I was younger. We grew up in the same small town. I ran into him for the first time in years when we did our orientation at the school a few months ago.

He asked me how things were going with my son at the school and in general. I mentioned to him that I was about to take my son for additional therapy at Fresno State. He does 20 hours of preschool and 20 hours of ABA therapy a week. I said "He's 4 and he has a 40 hour a week job". Which is true. He works his butt off all day long. Rick then asked about me. I told him that I'm taking 16 units, student teaching 5 days a week, in class 3 nights a week, working at the VA hospital 20 hours a week and, along with my wife, raising 2 kids and trying to stay sane.

In the span of a 2 minute conversation, Rick offered more compassion and understanding of not only my son's situation, but of my own, than I've received from some people who know me very well. It was genuine and unsolicited...and it meant the world to me. I've asked for (and practically begged for in some cases) understanding. It doesn't come as naturally to some people. Sometimes it doesn't come at all.

And here is this man, who...out of the blue...Lets me know that he realizes how difficult life with a special needs child can be. I was floored by his kindness and compassion.

He gets my son.

He gets me.

He gets it.

I don't expect people without a special needs child to really understand what our lives are like....but it's nice when someone makes the effort.

Sometimes the effort alone is enough.

Rick and a Paraeducator named Jonathan made a Lip Dub video featuring the students and staff at the school.

My son is at 2:36 (dancing with his teacher)

And at 4:41 in the lower right corner on the play structure. 

You can watch the video here. Please share it with everyone you know. We need more of this type of acceptance in the world. 

As for the rest of the people at my son's school?

They get it too.

PS, this is Rick.

Hot Rods for a Great Cause

Yesterday, the Camtwisters of Fresno held their annual "On The Roof" Car Show at River Park. The show benefitted FEAT-FMC (Families for the Effective Treatment of Autism - Fresno-Madera County).

FEAT, among many other things, supports the Central California Autism Center. My son attends ABA therapy at the CCAC. They are wonderful people doing wonderful things. I made this video for them last summer if you'd like to see more. That's my son in the green shirt. =)

On to the pictures. I'll start with one of my kids with Arthur. He is an adult with Autism. He works as a therapist at the CCAC and is an inspiration to all of us. I'd like to interview him and tell his story one day. I know a lot of it already, but I think it would be a fascinating project.

The FEAT booth.

I won't pretend to know the year and make of every car. I do know this is a Ford Thunderbird! Notice the hood is flipped open. See next photo for an idea of the paint jobs on these cars. 

This is my reflection in the hood. Amazing.

Ranchero. My brother owned one of these back in the day.

"HT MSTRD" was one of my favorites.

Tow Mater was there! 

Wait, check that. His brother Gus was there. While it was cool to see, it was like running into one of the lesser Baldwin brothers on the street. 

Not a seat belt in sight. Aaah...the good old days.

This was a very good year for me. 

Finally found a car for my daughter. 

And one for my wife.

The paint job on this next car probably cost more than my current car. Watch it change as I move. Incredible.

It appears as though someone familiar with a color wheel/color theory set these cars up.

The family. Photo courtesy of Arthur.

Looking back, I failed to get a single picture of any members of the Camtwisters! I apologize for that. I did get to personally thank a few of them for supporting Autism causes and I introduced my son to them.

They are a wonderful organization and as a parent, I'd like to thank them once again. 

Consideration

I'm gonna whine a bit.

Consideration. I've asked for it quite a bit the last few months. Not because I think I'm special or that if I want something so much, it ought to just be given to me without question.

Those who know me, those who know my family, and most importantly, those who know the situation we find ourselves in with our son (Matthew, 4, Autism) are usually really good about taking what we have to do into consideration.

I've worked my butt off to get my son to therapy, preschool, early intervention etc. all while attending school full time. Early on we asked for and received lots of help from grandparents and aunts. They would watch him while my wife worked and while I was in school. It was when he was diagnosed with Autism that all of the extra things that come with it appeared and ate the heart out of every single day of the week.

I've done everything I can since then to handle my son's requirements in-house. Meaning, no more farming him out to family members to watch. He now has places to be and things to do. Quite literally his potential quality of life depends on every day he makes it through therapy. That's how I see it.

I've reinvented the wheel every semester to make my school schedule mesh with his. Take him to preschool, I go to class. Pick him up from preschool, fight through a rushed lunch and get him to ABA with moments to spare. Then I go to class again. Often in a sweaty heap. Sometimes with remnants of snacks, juice or even pee on me. Yep! I do carry a change of clothes for me, just in case.  Most evenings my wife picks him up from therapy because I'm in class.

This semester I ran out of ways to make a wheel. My son had to be somewhere at 8:25, I needed to be somewhere else at 8:00. Checkmate.

I've known this was coming for quite some time. I tried to make the powers that be at a certain center of higher education aware of my impending conflict. From May to early August I heard nothing back. When I finally got in to see someone who I was certain would say "just start at 9 and stay an hour late"....I was floored. I was told that my needs would be given no consideration. I was out of luck and I was on my own to find somewhere else that would fit my needs. And if I didn't find something that worked, well.....

No consideration at all.

As luck would have it, I'm a people person. And I know the power of a good contact. I called my contact and asked if there was anything she could do. Sure enough there was. I found a place to call home for this semester. Finally, some consideration.

This was a person that really has no stake in what I've got going on. She is not in my chain of command. She is someone who I've met at my son's IEP's. What really torques me is that the person who is supposed to be looking out for the students in her care, offered nothing at all. Not even a sympathetic tone. Maybe she's on the spectrum.

I'm being vague intentionally. Who knows what she'd do if she got wind of this. I'm giving her way more consideration than she gave me.

Anyways, I've got to get to class.

New "job"

I haven't posted anything in a while. Been extremely busy with the end of my summer class, kids starting school, selling my truck, buying a car etc...

I now have a "job". I won't call it a new job because that would imply that I traded my old job for a new one. That isn't the case. I put it in quotations because it's a work study position. Yes I work. Yes I get paid. No I didn't really have to compete for the position.

I am a disabled veteran of the US Air Force. I'm not the injured-in-the-line-of-duty/combat related disabled veteran type. I'm more of a job-related-bad-back-and-hearing-loss type of disabled veteran.

As a benefit, while I am in school, I can work at the local VA hospital and make minimum wage as a part of my VA education package. Tomorrow marks the start of my 5th straight year as a full time college student. A year and a half to go before I'm a fully licensed and credentialed teacher.

This was my 2nd day on the job as a member of "guest services". Basically, I'm a gopher. Someone needs samples taken to the lab? I'm your guy. Pharmacy has a delivery for the ER? I'm on it. Wheel Mr. Doe from his room to xray? Done. I wait by the phone and when it rings, I do whatever is asked pretty much.

I already have a favorite task.

The coffee run.

Each morning when I work, which is sat and sun for the foreseeable future, I'll make the rounds with a 100 cup coffee pot on a cart. This is the cart before I cleaned it top to bottom this morning.



I stop by the nurses stations and the rooms of patients that can have coffee. Then I hit the waiting rooms. Then the lab and pharmacy. Then the ER and ER waiting room. I deliver happiness in little 6 ounce cups to one person at a time.

I've already made a few friends with the nursing staff and a I got a hug from a spouse of a patient who has been patiently bedside for who knows how long and for what reason. This was the second morning I'd brought coffee by to her. I remembered she takes it with 2 sugars and a ton of creamer. I think that's when I earned the hug.

I like this job.


- Posted from my phone. I know...phones are amazing.

Excuse me...that's my son you're talking about.

I can see it very clearly. I'm pushing a shopping cart through a store. In the cart rides Matthew, my 4 year old son with autism. He's making the sounds he makes and occasionally letting go with a blood curdling scream of joy (most of the time it's happy screams). He's happy, but we do what we can to keep him somewhere below an F-16 on full afterburner. Its not that I'm worried he'll ruin 10 seconds of someone's shopping trip....it's that I worry what I'll do if someone says anything cross, or gives me a look that can't be taken in any other way.
You see, I'm always in full blown autism dad alert mode....just waiting for some parent with "perfect" kids to trip on the wire and have the autism awareness grenade that is me explode and rip them into tiny, self-righteous bits right in the middle of Target.

Which brings me to our trip to the grocery store yesterday evening.

Same scenario as before. Matthew is in the cart. I'm pushing. My wife and daughter have the list and are leading the way.

Matthew lets out a couple of happy screams as we peruse the outer regions of the produce section. No biggie. There's a lot of people there and everyone is focused on getting in and getting out.

I decide we need bananas. The banana area is crowded, so I leave the cart, and Matthew, with my wife and head in.

Just as I reached the bananas, I heard Matthew squeal again.

And wouldn't you know it...someone tripped on the wire.

I heard "Christ there goes that kid screaming again".

This comment was made by a 40ish male grocery store worker, to his coworker, who stood about 10 feet away (so it was said loud enough for everyone around him to hear).
I was behind him, so I saw his coworker roll his eyes and nod his head in agreement.

I calmly bagged my bananas and turned to face the guy.

"Excuse me....the little boy you're complaining about? That's my son. He has autism. He's 4 and doesn't speak. He gets excited and screams sometimes. He's not throwing a fit...it's just what he does."

He had the look of someone who just got caught talking small smack about someone else's kid.

He threw in a few "I'm sorrys" and a "he's not as loud as some of the kids in here" as I spoke.

I ended up giving a very nutshell explanation of autism to the guy.

I wasn't angry with him. He was quick to apologize and listened to what I had to say. I patted him on the shoulder as I walked away and said "I hear it all the time". Looking back, I hope he took that as, "I hear my son scream all the time" and not "I hear people complain about my son all the time". I may clarify if I ever see him again.

I might have been that guy in my former life. Hell, I know I've been that guy. Maybe I wasn't so open with my complaints, but I'd get annoyed when I saw or heard a kid going bonkers in public.

Not anymore. I give the courtesy to others, and I sometimes foolishly expect to receive it.

This was a minor thing, and I reacted accordingly I believe.

So that's that. The trip wire isn't as sensitive as I thought it was...

But it will always be there, waiting for the next person to step on it. How hard they step determines how hard the grenade explodes.


- Posted from my phone. I know...phones are amazing.

Six years ago...

Six years ago today, in a hotel room in Washington DC, my (then) girlfriend said yes.

She agreed to marry me.

I had planned on asking her at the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument....but when we arrived in DC, it was raining harder than I'd literally ever seen it rain (except maybe in Guam once). So I proposed in the room.
Minutes later, again literally, it stopped raining and we were able to go walk around. I always jump the gun in times like this.

This is her, just about an hour or so after agreeing to a lifetime with me. She looks remarkably calm.

Angelica and I....and Abe. I'm sweating bullets in the humidity (but I've got a little pattern going, which was nice) Dig those shorts too by the way.

While we had only been dating for about a year, our friendship goes way way back....

to the third grade in fact. 

That's me on the left in the very cool 70's (because it WAS the 70's) Giants shirt. My friend and future wife is in the back row, upper right with a white headband. Isn't she cute?

We weren't just classmates. We were friends. I was a shy, nice kid. So was she. Around the 4th or 5th grade, we both developed (some might say) an infatuation with The Beatles. It was this common interest that I think really cemented a life long friendship. To this day I act like I know more about The Beatles than she does but really, I'm a dunce compared to her insight on the subject. 

I remember going to see The Police in concert when I was in the 7th grade. I also remember an argument I had with a classmate over Sting. I had made the comment that Sting was the drummer for The Police. This was long before the internet...I just thought, "how could the drummer not have the coolest name ever? He's the drummer! He's GOTTA be Sting". Of course I know now that "Sting" is the lead singer and bassist.

On one of our first dates, over 20 years later, she brings this conversation up. She called me on it. I felt really bad because I remembered the "discussion" from years ago....I just didn't remember it was her who I'd made an utter fool of myself to. Once again, her musical knowledge trumped mine.

Our high school years are kind of interesting. I don't remember her, she doesn't remember me. Although, I might add my graduation partner was her best friend, and her graduation partner was one of my best friends. 

And that was that.

I attended our 10 year HS reunion in 1999. I was in the Air Force at the time. I spot her from across the way and run over and give her a big hug. She was beautiful. The sweet little girl I had grown up with was a woman, and holy smokes would I have asked her out on the spot, but it wasn't meant to be at that time. It was genuinely nice to see her and was one of the highlights of the reunion for me. 

And once again, that was that.

About 5 years later, I get an e mail. It's from Angelica. She had the gall to act like I might not remember her. She's very unassuming, which is one of the things I absolutely love about her. 

In the e mail she told me how she was doing and asked how things had been for me. I remembered seeing her at our reunion and what a vision she was. Once again, it wasn't meant to be...but it was wonderful to hear from my friend.

Life is funny. Within a few short months, my life had been thrown completely for a loop. I was sharing a spare bedroom in my parents house with my toddler daughter. I was now living in the same town as my old friend Angelica. I e mailed her and asked for her number. I called her. We met for a milkshake and fries.

And the rest is history.

She is a wonderful wife, a great mother not only to Matthew, our son with autism, but to Karen our daughter. 

She has supported and encouraged me like no one else before and I would truly be lost without her.

This is the whole family last weekend. 

And that's that.

Tag Team

My wife and I are going on a lunch/movie date today. We've hired a babysitter (Matthew's therapist from the center where he spends most of his day). We have 5 hours very carefully blocked out.
She arrives, we leave 15 minutes later, which gives us 40 minutes to get to the theater, etc.
The last movie we saw in a theater was Hot Tub Time Machine (circa spring break 2010) by the way.

This isn't the topic of this entry, just thought I'd mention it!

Tag Team. It's not just for wrestling anymore.

10 months out of the year, my wife is an elementary school teacher.

10 months out of the year I'm a full time college student.

My wife makes a nice living. She's been teaching for around 14 years and she earns every dime. I don't make any dimes going to school.

I earn my keep by getting good grades and making sure the kids get where they need to be when they need to be there. That's not always easy. Hell it's rarely easy.

What helps us keep from going completely bonkers is that we take turns (this mainly revolves around Matthew, our 4 year old with autism).

If my wife spent the previous night trying to find the exact spongebob episode that he insists must be played (downstairs at 3am I must add) then I know that tonight it's my turn if he pulls the stunt again.

My wife doesn't need to tell or ask me (most of the time!) It's just how we do things.
Yesterday my wife got to go to a small concert in town with her mom and her sisters. A rare and well deserved treat. I stayed home with the kids.

Tag. I'm it.

This morning, I don't even know when, she came downstairs with him and let me sleep in.

Tag. You're it.

I wake up around 645 (for me that's sleeping in) and take over with Matthew. Mostly at this time of the morning it consists of keeping him happy and non screamy. My wife is 10 feet away catching a few needed winks on the couch.

Tag. I'm it.

And that's how we do it. It's not a perfect system and either one of us carries a larger load at times... but we're always within arm's reach of each other.

For a hug.

For a pat on the rear.

For a tag.





- Posted from my phone. I know...phones are amazing.