The Speedy Zone

So, you know the check-out counters in the grocery store where you can do it yourself? You know, the ones that you take the item, say Peanut Butter, you search for the tiny bar code, than carefully place it above the glass, and some light from underneath flashes, and magically, your Peanut Butter price shows up on a screen, and this voice, some ladies voice, announces to you that your jar of PB costs you two dollars and ninety six cents. At which point, you dig into your grocery cart of twenty items, and repeat the process. I am not sure of the name of this modern day grocery checkout system, so I will call it the “Speedy Zone”. I really like to use this method. I do not know if it is because I am a grocery store checker “wannabe” or I just think I can get out of “dodge faster”, but I am really drawn to this method of checking out my groceries.
The other day, I, along with Peter, decided to use the Speedy Zone self-checkout system in the local grocery store. I, looking at the long lines in the other lanes, and in a hurry, decided this method would be much quicker! Why, I thought this was a good idea with Peter... I do not know??? I am not sure in that brief moment of making the decision to be speedy, that some voice did not surface and tell me... “Diane, get real...this is not a good thing”. But, nope, I never heard that voice of reason so off we went...thinking we had made a great decision. Now Peter, my twenty two year old son with a mind of a six year was ready to join in the fun and be extremely helpful. That is where the excitement began. Before I could even get my grocery card out of my wallet, I, who was searching in the depths of my purse so I could begin the checking experience, looked up to see that Mister Speedy himself, Peter, was scanning and rescanning the same item, and thinking this was how you played grocery store checker. I looking up from my desperate wallet hunt search in the depths of my purse, stood there with a look of bewilderment and a thought of how do I stop this commotion? The look on my face was all that was needed to call the nice lady, the one who monitors to the Speedy Zone, to come over, smile intact, and put in her much needed code into the machine and helped us regroup. We did regrouped, I in the process secured the much needed cards to once again commence this checking experience. In the past, I actually had this feeling of “Look at me, I am in charge of my own groceries, I can handle this with ease!” Today, I was beginning to lose that feeling of control.I do admit in my past checking experiences, I have a hard time with the veggies, the looking up and the weighing of those items. Having those green and yellow objects in my cart and awaiting to be bagged, I had already put on my game face for this event, when Peter decided to put his hands on the bagging area which immediately detected an unpaid item and once again, the process was stopped. Nothing could be done. The hopeless, helpless look was once again taking over my face. I grimaced and looked at now that machine, the one who has no personality and thought, “ No machine...I have paid for every grocery item up to this point, and NO, I am not going to pay for Peter...really, I do not think that is necessary. Besides, haven’t I paid for him already?” And so, over walks the nice lady, smile still intact, puts in her code, and life is once again good and swell, or so I think. I can once again pretend that I love this self checking process and that I am in control of my own destiny, at least, my ability to check out the groceries. And, yes, we regroup. Please realize, at this point, I am starting to sweat a bit and have made a decision not to make eye contact with those lined up behind us. That would be those individuals who now have lost their smiles, who are not being entertained by this event, and who have joined us in the Speedy Zone, because they also believe they would leave this store in a more timelier manner than if they had gone through the traditional checkout line.
I am now trying to scan the rest of the groceries and make a request to Peter to stand behind the cart, please Peter please stand behind the cart, over there, see where it is safe and you cannot get into any more trouble. Of course, to Peter, this is no trouble at all! No, this is big time fun, he has no care in the world that the five people behind us are ready to wrap their hands around our necks and squeeze really hard. It was at that point when Peter decided that he really needed and I mean really needed to check the FREE AutoTrader magazine that he managed to collect somewhere along the way. No amount of coercing would convince him that he need not do that. No, Peter, that will not work, we do not need to do this, was falling on ears that just must have been full of earwax, as there was no listening or comprehending involved.
Once again, the distress call came out, and yes, the nice lady, continuing to keep that smile intact, not only came over to put her code in the machine, she decided to become our new best friend, and did not leave our sides until we were done. I, observing her kind demeanor realize that she knows now that if she just stands there and does not move, hopefully, we would soon be out or her hair!! We did manage to finish with her help. I still maintaining my forward glace and not looking behind, expressed my extreme gratitude. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated her help and her ability to stand there between Peter and the machine, so I could finish the process. Peter, still tried to sneak that magazine in, however, we had luckily finished and no more damage could be done. And the individuals behind us, smiling ingratiatingly, taping their feet, and wishing we would be out the door soon, were relieved that the Speedy Zone act was done.
Leaving the store smiling, I remember muttering about never doing that again. I am considering even shopping at a new store for awhile in hopes that we would not be remembered. Peter, once again, providing a moment of entertainment...I am not sure who were the recipients of this...but made the Speedy Zone grocery experience is one that I will not forget!

Believe

Holidays...a day to experience that warm fuzzy feeling, a family day, a happy day...well, let's get real. Holidays are not always that perfect day that one conjures up in one's mind as that "special" day. In this household, we have had some really nice holidays, and we have had some really not so nice holidays. Trust me, we have had our share of both! But either good or bad, Peter has a way of making them special. Partly because he still believes. And in the saying...Believe...you've seen it around Christmas...it does make the holiday a bit more special. So whether the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus is showing up at our house, at the mere age of 22 and next year it will 23, Peter believes and neither Sara, Mike, or I are letting him in on the secret. No way!! Why wreck our fun!
So, Christmas, yes, I admit, still use the...if you are really good....Santa will bring you....line. And every Christmas, now 28 years and going strong, I still wake myself up in the middle of the night to sneak downstairs and bring the Santa gifts and to hang the stockings. I have delegated the eating of the chosen Santa cookies to those individuals still up on Christmas Eve playing some video game. Those chosen never complain and the the cookies are eaten and the crumbs carefully strewn to appear as if the one indulging really enjoyed the selection.
And Easter, no matter where we roam, EB still visits, bringing a basket or a bag of goodies. And those bags, yes, need to be hidden, carefully when one my not be looking in the hotel room.
The sheer belief, the look on the face of one who still holds on, it just a great feeling. Last year, at Peter's work party, the room was filled with believers ranging in age from 18 to 65. When Santa gave them a $5.00 bill, you would think they had won the lottery. The joy, the laughter, the need to tell you that they got a $5.00 bill...A FIVE DOLLAR BILL!! Wow, I am thinking, if we could all just be so happy that we got a five dollar bill. If we could all experience the sure pleasure of receiving this gift. In that moment, you just had to feel good all over.
So, this family is all bound to not tell Peter. We love it! We get into it as much as he does. Cheap thrill, maybe...actually . it's free!!

Answering Machines

I really was planning on discussing holidays, and I will, however, again a break in the action, I have a need to talk about answering machines. You know, those very benign machines that when you purchase you compose an announcement regarding your inability to answer the telephone but if the caller leaves a message, you will gladly call them back. If I would venture a guess, I would think that most people do not change their greeting once it is set. Maybe never, maybe once or twice. However, in this household I change my greeting so often I have been known to wear out the tape.
So, my need to discuss this unique machine occurred today when Sara called and asked me if I had listened to my message on my answering machine. Laughing, she suggested I go home and listen. So there is was, Peter erasing my previous instruction regarding how to reach me, replaced it with his own version which stated something like "Hi Sara, this is Peter, Call me Sara, I am waiting for you." Now this message has been on this machine at least a good week, maybe longer, and has one person who called and left a message even hinting that something may be array?
There was a time that some nice person would call and gently remind me that I needed to make change. Peter, who would change the message, of course, when I was not around, did this on a fairly regular basis. I would make a nice little saying, Peter would change it to state something about how we were not home and maybe we were cooking or dancing, or he would leave messages to his brother and sister. Always something different, always something that did not quite fit the greeting standard.
When he was not changing the greeting, he was Johnny of the Spot to see the message button flashing and erase all the messages before they met my ears. Not sure why he thought that was entertaining, but he did. When we returned home, and I opened the door, Peter and I practically ran each other over to see who could get to the answering machine first, I tripping and begging, Peter please do not erase those messages!!! My standard greeting for a long time included a little ditty about if I do not return your call, I probably did not even know you called, as Peter beat me to the answering machine.
So,, this simple machine that really does not bring pleasure, but just conveys a message to stay in touch, in this house, at times brought laughs, interesting conversations among friends, sometimes a source of irritation, but always a something out of the ordinary.
So, I will sign off, go compose a new message which will last for a time. Until that moment, I will again get a call, a hint of laughter in the caller's voice, asking if I, that would be I who live here, have called my answering machine lately!!

A Change of Pace

Whew...all that talk about hospitals was exhausting! I think I will change directions and talk about something fun...how about Halloween, that is always a fun topic.
Now, if my memory serves me correctly, Peter, being the third child, was probably dressed at an early age and brought along for all Trick or Treat events. If I would guess, he most likely was placed in a wagon, and literally dragged along. Because he was tiny and did not speak for a very long time, he would be picked up from the wagon, and place on the stairway near the front door. Prodding to say those words "Trick or Treat". he would mumble something and my wonderful neighbors would oblige by filling his pumpkin to the brim. Now Peter, being half the size of the pumpkin would stagger back to the wagon, and we would empty that round into a grocery bag,ready for the next round. My memory also stirs up pictures of Peter really not all that interested in candy. So, his family obliged by helping him eat his candy, with some of us still holding the memory of that particular event on their hips...if you know what I mean.
Peter, liked Treat or Treat while he was accompanied by his bro and sis, but his interested waned when they gave up the sport and it was just Peter and I. Because Peter is Peter, he did this sport well beyond the norm. Finally, he made the decision to just hand out the candy. I, for the first time in years, did now need to to spend the afternoon visiting the locales in search of candy. I was thrilled. So, Peter, standing at the front door and in charge of the basket filled with candy, waited patiently and answered the door, I supervised, until I felt he understood the concept. Then, in my comfort zone, I headed to the kitchen, ready to to help if needed. And so, the doorbell rang, and Peter gave. Until....the doorbell rang and rang, and I drying the dishes went to determine why these youngsters were not the receipts of any candy. There, to my amazement, found...NO Peter, gone, candy gone. Apologizing to the youngsters, I ran out the door in search of the MIA child and candy. Shortly, I found him, Trick or Treating himself with our basket of candy, going door to door. He was not convinced to return, so we continued on with this large sized witch basket as his Trick or Treat bag, and I, dish towel in hand, attempting to explain to the neighbors "our look".
That was the last year Peter did solo on the handouts. I never left his side after that. He was closely supervised, no more multi-tasking for me. I learned my lesson that day...not quite sure why I did not know better. What was it that past experiences did not remind me that Peter handing out candy would be an ordinary event? I guess it is just part of me, the hopeful person, who always thinks that this will be the time.....only what will happen during that time is always entertaining.

Getting in the Door

Getting out of the house and into the hospital has always been a task that has taken every once of patience and outwitting that I owned. Always very apprehensive, that at any minute Peter would bolt and there would be no return. Peter, in his later years, was no match for my strength, so it always came down to a verbal discourse and an enormous amount of convincing and bribing...not sure if anything of that worked; however, it somehow made it in the door. One year standing by the elevators never to go into the room. Another year, standing outside the door, refusing to enter the pre-op room.

So, the stories go. At the local children's hospital, Peter was "drugged" enough to allow me to get him to the floor and into a room. But, at the first site of a MD in a scrub, that Valium had run it's course and Peter became aware, on guard, and if anything, Peter seemed more agitated and afraid. To be honest, that day, the anesthesiologist could have handled the situation better, as it took 6 very tall doctors and me to hold Peter down, long enough to give him sedation and the whole time Peter had the edge. The doctors begged me to join them in the OR, fully clothed in street clothes I said, but to them it did not matter. Those were the moments I really, and I mean really want to sit down and cry hysterically. I remember, gulping in a sob, and reassuring those men that yes, I would come with them. Smiling, looking fully in control...a good cover...my heart was breaking and wishing to be elsewhere.

In another hospital visit, and again dicey at best. The hospital engaged all the services needed to convince Peter that this was a good thing. Actually, as "bad" as it was, it was also as good as it could be. The nurses and MD's were all on the same page, quickly and expediently they handled Peter. The security personnel became his new BFF's for the day and Peter trusted them. We are here to help you, Peter, they said, and they held his hand, of course, hoping he would not bolt, but using comfort techniques to keep him safe. The anesthesiologist, having worked with children with special needs, swiftly walked in, and Peter who was now sitting on my lap, was given a dose of Ketamine, a drug that immediately induces a sleeplike state, right through his shirt. Sound awful, but having done this so many times, it works the best. This hospital team gave Peter and me it's all, and made a extremely hard situation the best it could be.

My thought, my wish, my prayer, that God would wave His magic wand and take away the fear. I really think someday that will happen. Hopefully sooner than later, because for Peter, as painful as this is for me or the hospital staff, I know that his fear is so much more really than anything I feel.

So there will be another tale to tell, another story this year, but until than I will continue the hope and prayer that Peter will be less afraid this time.

Getting to the Hospital

Really, going to visit a doctor’s or dentist office is a piece of cake compared to taking Peter to the hospital. This is one experience I still dread when it occurs and does occur on an annual basis. You see, Peter as a child, had many ear infection, so at one point needed to have a tube put in his left ear. He also, when young, resisted and fought teeth brushing on a daily basis, so now Peter has a month full of bad teeth. Very unfortunate! He has gotten better at that…good thing, but is still suffering the consequences. So, because of this inability to lie in a dental chair and even open his month without spewing, he needed to receive teeth cleaning and filling while sedated and that meant a hospital.
The first step in this hospital experience was always just getting there. That turned out to be a major undertaking in itself. When he was little, we just carried him and held his close. But the older and bigger he became, that just was not happening. So we needed to become crafty. Early on we started giving him Valium to relax him, so we would put it in his juice and off he went. However, as he grew that nasty tasty juice was a signal that either he would be visiting a dentist or going to the hospital. Good memory! When he was in high school, we engaged the whole class in a hospital experience as the teachers had snack time, and everyone got juice, only Peter’s contained a mixture of various drugs all meant to induce a sensation of relaxation. When Peter was deemed relaxed, I who was waiting in the parking lot retrieved him and we were on our merry way to the hospital.
Peter, as he grew, starting realizing that funky juice was usually connected with a hospital experience. And, in the last two years, has refused to drink knowing what the next step will involve. Two years ago, he had a surgery scheduled complete with dental work, every immunization known to mankind, blood work, TB skin test, you name it, we included it under the anesthetic period. That morning, Peter absolutely refused to do anything. I, totally at a loss, knowing a surgical team was waiting and he needed all these good things, did not know what to do. On advise of a good friend who said…you need to do this, you cannot give in…I was really ready to cave….we called the friendly Village police who quietly came and explained to Peter he could either go in his car or ours. Peter chose my car and off he went. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Officer Friendly, Peter was not going that day. I thank the nice gentleman dearly, who took the time, was kind, and really had a big impact on our life. Peter would never gotten in the group home, had he not had all those tests under the anesthetic.
Last year, we incorporated Wilson to come with Peter and somehow that worked. However, once we get there, getting him to go in and getting him to sit in the room and wait for surgery involves many members of the hospital staff, which I will save for another time. Let’s just say…that these times were extremely trying, however, those who helped in pitched in made the difference in getting the job done.

Doctors and Dentists

As long as I am in the behavior mode, I might as well continue with doctors. From a very early age, Peter was seen by many doctors, so many, you would think they would be his BFF's. But no, somewhere along the way, Peter developed an almost phobia when it came to the medical profession. I wish I could remember when it happened, or why it happened, but it happened. It was not so much a dislike, but a fear, an all and all out right fear of the MD. Not that they did anything wrong, he just did not like to be touched by them...and after all, isn't that a part of an exam.
So going to doctors took and still takes an inordinate amount of coercion, sometimes trickery, and an extreme amount of patience on everyone's part. Something as simple as a blood pressure was considered by Pete majorly invasive, something to be feared. Taking one's clothes off, for a peak, wow, major trauma and drama. His pediatrician was an extremely patient man who took his time and was able to complete the task. However, beyond a peak and a quick look, Peter would be dressed and out the door before you could even say "Now you can get dressed."
His love for dentist probably ranked even lower than his love for doctors. Never, not once in his life, has any dentist ever convinced him to lie in that chair. Now, when he was little, we laid together, but that could only take place for awhile. After that dental exams were performed usually in a chair, sitting upright, with Peter maintaining one hand of the door for the quick bolt, I hoping that the exam would be complete before the bolting took place.
You wonder...did she consider sedation pre-dental visit. Yes, that would include Benadryl and Valium. Did you know that some individuals actually react opposite to the needed effect of some drugs. Peter, who was valiumized to the point of needing assistance to walk a straight line, once in the exam room, woke up, had a heightened sense of awareness, and no drug could keep him sedated long enough to perform the exam. It was as if the antlers arose, and he know...dentist coming.....no touching. Oh, yes, to complicate matters, Peter, if asked by a doctor or dentist to open his mouth, develops this amazing gag reflex that you would think that at any minute you will see his lunch in your lap. Sort of like a conditioned response sort of thing that only occurs when asked that question within the realms of a doctor's office.
So, going to doctors and dentist's office does not evoke any warm fuzzy feelings within me. Rather, pre-visits included sleepless nights, and hours of thinking of the new "how to get Peter to cooperate". Peter of course, was never informed until the last minute, the very last minutes, the very last nanosecond.
Recently, Peter at the mere age of 22, needed to switch from his pediatrician to an adult doctors. For those of you who watched friends, it was kinda like Ross still going to his pediatrician. It was me, Peter, and the 2 year olds in that waiting room. So, I looked and searched and called to try to find the new replacement.
Off we went, having to visit his office in the hospital...a major task to get Peter in the front door. However, once in, the Medical Assistant had a very laid back manner and got Peter to jump on the scale and take his blood pressure. The new Doc...not knowing what he was getting into, played along, let Peter keep his clothes on, and let him keep the door open..so we were all involved in the physical..the secretaries, the bookkeepers, it was a family affair of sorts.
But we made it through, we made a new friend that day. I always pray that Peter will not need major anything, because it is traumatic. My hope, is next year, he will take another step in trusting. Peter will take off his clothes, shut the door, and feel more comfortable. Because as traumatic as it is for me, I know in Peter's mind, it is even more traumatic, because his fear is real to him.

The Day Made for Mom's

This was Peter's message inside the card he gave me this morning. I found it upside down on the other side of the card. It reads " I love you, Peter", now the "I" is buried in the love. Kinda a cool concept if you think about it! As I am writing this, he is sitting, headphones on while attached to his computer and singing to me...well, I pretend he is singing to me. With his monotone voice and his hand slapping the ground, I feel as if I am about ready to meditate...hip-hop style. He is slapping, and squealing and laughing, which of course, I find quite entertaining. I know it will be a good day!
Mother's Day, also a day to celebrate...in years gone by, at some fancy brunch with my family. Again, you would think divine. With Peter, always interesting, as Peter from little on did not like to sit or eat...he had no pincer grasp so sitting in a high chair eating cheerios like most kids his age...just wasn't happening! Those fancy cloth restraints meant to secure a child in a high chair, either he squirmed or cried mercilessly to be released. So, he usually ended up on my lap where major squirming took place and my task was to get the fork to my mouth in one quick movement before a flying arm met the fork and flung the food across the table to someones face. Not cool, as we were all dressed in our Sunday best and spending a day's salary on the meal. Putting him down, meant that he would be out the door ASAP, and one of us would go in search, always concerned that he may end up in the duck pond. Smiling, grateful to be there enjoying this nice meal on Mother's Day, I remember, I was always happy when it ended without some major trauma taking place. Not that I am ungrateful, as those were very special times....just not the peaceful calm experience you would expect on Mother's Day.
To our Mothers...we would not be here without them! For all the great things they did for us, no matter how long they were with us, here's to you Moms! And to current mothers...keep on smiling and count your blessings..that would be your children if they are crawling up under your skirt as you are eating today! And to those who want to be mothers..may your prayers be answered.
In honor of all mothers, I have added two thoughts which I found, so read on:
A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. - Washington Irving
However...this one.....I thought held true meaning..
A mother is neither cocky nor proud because she knows the school principle may call at any minute to report that her child has just driven a motorcycle through the gymnasium. - Mary Kay Blakely

Enjoy the day!!!

Dating

Yes, dating. Around the time Peter was eighteen, I found myself in the dating world. Having not been there for a very very long time, I decided to take on this task with a new vengeance. Living in the Internet world and the world of professional dating services, I and a friend decided this would be an "investment" into the future. So off we joined and proceeded to meet many nice professional males. This to us was a safe and convenient way to meet members of the opposite sex. And I, wanting to get my monies worth, met quite a few.

At that time, Peter was living with me and there was no concept of a group home. He was still in high school, and once he graduated...well, that would be the next step. So, at that time, the plan was that he was with me and would be with me on a daily basis. Now, when I met these fine men, I usually did not divulge that I had a child with special needs living with me on the first date. Why waste my time explaining, if that would be the first and last time I would be having any discussion with this person. However, if he passed the first round, then the second, and third followed. It was usually during that time, that I brought up Peter. Peter, became the barometer of my dating sessions. If I detected a hint of apprehension, than off the list you went. Very surprisingly interesting...that never happened, and these fine men always wanted to know more.

The next test came when they got to meet Peter. I, observant of all behavior, watched as how they addressed him, engaged him, and reacted to him. Now let me tell you, this is no easy task, as Peter is a man of few words, so engaging was an art form and I understood the enormity of the task. However, it was in the effort that I observed and evaluated. And once again, pleasantly surprised. Only one person, who could not stand up to the task, and for reasons I won't indulge, I understood why. However, reason aside....out the door, no more to be seen.

When I decided I had gotten my "monies worth" and the initial excitement of going to dinner every other night starting to wear off, I began to narrow down the field. So one "lucky" man got to have quiet candlelit dinners at my house while Peter decided to be Peter.

Many a quiet dinner included door slamming and those four letter words that Peter had picked up from the person who had previously lived in this house. (That will be made even more known when I tell you about Silent Night!). Peter, who usually was well behaved, may have been sitting on a tack or just hungry, but some of his behavior was definitely not date like material for anyone trying to impress. So, during these romantic candle lit dinners, I would calmly state..just ignore his behavior....and we did, as an occasional shoe may have passed our heads, or the door went slamming, or some #!*+ was said.

I was never questioned, never judged, and trusted that I knew what I was doing. Of course, I really never was quite sure I knew what I was doing, but I had to make a good appearance. He, also got very good at judging Peter's behavior and would haul out food before I could say..quick he needs something to eat.

Honestly, a true quality to me was tolerance of this. Not everyone would have the wherewithal to sit quietly as these events takes place. My Peter dating barometer helped me to select quality individuals who had hearts and understanding. And Peter, has made the dating experience most likely unique by any standards.

It was not always about singing

No, Peter's life was not always about singing and dancing, although that filled his time and kept him focused. Life with Peter did not always end with a round of YMCA and High Fives. Nope, there were those times that weren't so rosy. At times, his teenage years were, what would be a good term, excitable, turbulent, crazy at times, as his small frame was filled with raging hormones. With a mind of a youngster, he was not in control at all times. Normally, hormones are hard, but when you really have no understanding, how do you give meaning to that?

When Peter was the tender age of nine, I started noticing changes in his voice and body that indicated he may be going through puberty. Feeling, like, come on, not one more thing...this is not fair, Peter and I took the trip to the Children's Hospital and met with a specialist who confirmed my fear. Yes, it was true, Peter was in the small percentage of children who went through puberty at a very early age. And yes, we could bring him in on a regular basis to receive injections that would stop the process. Peter, who already was developing a strong dislike..make that phobia of doctors and hospitals, just did not seem to be the candidate to subject to weekly "shots". So, both I and the medical professionals agreed, it was probably best not to pursue this mode of treatment.

So we returned to life, and Peter began his trip into puberty, never quite knowing what hit him. He still was a small child, and because developmentally behind, we still carried him around like a toddler. Now, this toddler like person, was developing facial hair, his high squeaky voice was now cracking and becoming lower, and you know...so were other things changing. He was the only child in elementary school to have a mustache. Really, heartbreaking at the time, but what are you going to do? It is what it is or was what it was, so we just dealt with the development.

Unfortunately, along with the facial hair, came years of on and off outbursts. The trick always being one step ahead of the outburst. Prevention, if possible, in the form of food and out thinking. Chair time outs, not working! And Peter, who has not one ounce of fat on his body, developed muscles...strong muscles.

So, on occasion things went flying...I became very good at catching, spindles broke, and at times life was tenuous. We put up our guard, and spent days making sure we stayed one step ahead. Learning, the best way to react to these outburst was to ignore them. Hard when things are flying by your head! His favorite, slamming the door to the garage. he was so good at that, I thought the house must be moving on it's foundation. Raising a voice only increased his agitation and lack of control, so the more upset he became, I learned to slow it down a notch. When I thought I had no patience left, I needed to dig even deeper in the patience bank and make another withdrawal. Nice easy deep breaths.... I needed to make decisions about what was important to discipline, and what you could let go. Not ever really sure if I was making the "right" decision, but someone needed to decide and be in charge. So, at least I convinced myself I was making the right decision.

The good news, the hormones have settled. At time, an occasional door is slammed. He may need to be reminded that he does not do that anymore...he has outgrown that. He does try and sneak it in. He has grown, has matured, and seems to even have a bit of an understanding of his body. I really do think living with three other males his age has helped with that growth and understanding. So again, when times were tough with his development and hormones, his need to play with the neighborhood children, that would be him, age 20, and the kids, 5 or 6, hormones slowing down, but still there, God opened the window and I found his group home. Amazing, simply amazing!!!

Singing

Peter, as I mentioned previously, has difficulty reading and writing, but can sing the words to many many songs. All different sorts, and when driving in the car with him, he randomly switches radio stations, finding the song of the moment which could be oldies, newbies, Country Western, Contemporary worship, and if he wishes to bring back good memories of visiting our friends Betty and Humberto in Mexico...tele mundo...or that would be radio mundo......maybe....
And when he finds his songs, he stops and sings, head nodding to the beat and arm waving included if needed. He sings loudly, and happily, as if he wants the whole world to hear.

Now, the one thing you need to know about Peter is he is monotone...m..o...n...o...t...o...n....e...
The same note for every song, the same very low note for every song. The sound that resembles a chanting of sorts, maybe someone meditating, as if in a Buddhist monastery. The only song I have ever heard him change his pitch is the Twelve Days of Christmas, where on the Fifth day...Five golden rings...some versions sing that part very high...so Peter has managed to change from monotone, to in a very high squeaky voice sing Five Golden Rings...enough to bring a large smile to my face every time I hear it.

So, Peter, arriving home from school would want to start the jamming going, and would play his CD'S or radio, sing and dance to which I usually joined in, unless of course..I needed a bit of P and Q or needed to listen to the news, or was having house guests. What do to....how to keep Peter entertained, me sane, and my house guests happy. That is where the Walkman and various versions came in. A small disc player with headphones...loved the headphones as Peter would sit at the kitchen table, play his songs, and sing.

Think about it.....Peter thinks he is Frank Sinatra, so he is singing away...loudly, especially if there are house guests, just wants to make sure they know of his existence. But, we on the other end of the headphones, do not hear the music, just the very loud voice of Peter...the very loud monotone voice of Peter singing to his heart's content. The very loud one tone voice singing away.

Many a book club was spent discussing our latest read while being accompanied by "We are Family" in pure monotone. Nice background music...very especial. He seemed to have a sense, that we may not hear him, so he would just turn up the volume...his volume and sing. What I like about this....he loves to sing and he does care or know that he is monotone...isn't that great. No bad feelings, just the love of singing...and really who cares if it is just one note. For him, it's a world of music. A means to communicate, a joyful moment. For us, entertainment...monotone version.

Button, Button...

A few weeks ago my friend Jeanne and I gave a birthday party for everyone in our book club. To ensure, LOL....lots of laughs, we decided to play your usual party games, pin the tail on the donkey, drop the clothes pin in the bottle, musical chairs, and Button, button who's got the button. Of course, we needed to Google how to play the button game. Why am I bringing this up, you may ask? Read on...
So off Peter went to play and off I went to play housekeeping. You see, Peter's short visit did not include washing this time. Oh no, we were all over that. He, however, was into cleaning up. Instead of playing "Button, button, who's got the Button?", I will be playing Sink plugger, sink plugger who's got my sink plugger?. I will be unloading the dishwasher which is filled with every item on my counter. I am still looking for the plug for the garbage disposal and the the thing that sits in the sink...can't remember the name., but it is MIA in my house.And, when finished with that, Mike and I will spend some time playing in the recycle bin, as Peter decided to dump all the grass clippings and leaves in with the bottles and cans. That would be an entire garbage can of grass clippings. Oh yes, and I will look for the doormats, I am sure they are somewhere..maybe?
These small tasks come with Peter...it is part of the package. And, yes, it may be a bit on the borderline of crazy, I love the package. Even Mike, as he stood and scooped for hours, cleaning the recycle bin, never complained, just took it in stride. It is part of our life...it is what it is. It is just understood, incorporated in the day. And, even though we watch vigilantly, it only takes a slip, a moment of distraction, and remember the radar...it will go up and Peter will seize the moment to do his thing.
So, Peter will be home again soon. I know we will be our washer alert and dishwasher alert. I have no doubt, Peter will come up with a new plan. A new way to clean or a new area to clean. And I have no doubt, that after he leaves, I will be playing some sort of housekeeping game.

Playing

Yesterday was a bright sunny day and after church Peter very enthusiastically told me that it was a nice day and he would be able to play outside today. And play he would, like a 6 or 8 year old. Should I be sad that my 22 year old man was planning on playing today. I wondered, should I regret that he would not be in the graduating class of 2010 at some University? I am most sure if he had attended college, he would be on the five year plan, so this May would have been his graduation date. He would be out seeking jobs in a few weeks, along with the other graduates, who I must say, might find it hard. But no, he is not graduating, instead today he is playing, and tomorrow, he will head for his job at a wonderful curative workshop where he most likely will box up Pledge. And, yes, I am most thankful that he has that job!
There were many times, although trying hard to put the "best construction on everything"..something my mom would say and still rings in my ears, that I did not. That I looked wistfully at Peter and wanted him to be more. Prayed for a miracle, as if God would come down with his magic wand and just fix him. Now, I really never got into what would really be fixed, but I just wanted a quick fix. Many days were spent with tears, and wishes of something better. The what if's that fills one mind to try and rationalize how things could turn out different...if I just had....
Yes, I had all those feeling. And, I understand the heartache that accompanies those feelings. The longing, the "life is not fair" kind of feeling. Yep, had all of those! But today, when he smiles at me and is just so happy that he gets to play outside because it is a nice day. I laugh. You are right Peter, it is a grand and glorious day and you will be able to enjoy every minute of sunshine. And he glows. His gift, living the moment, experiencing life for what it is. So simplistic.

I do not regret that he is playing today at the age of 22. For Peter, it may not be a college degree this month, but he graduated from high school, he is living independently in a phenomenal group home with his high school friends, he has a job, and a better social life than me.

I am rethinking this...I do believe God did come down with his magic wand. I do believe He did His magic, He did fix it ...for what more could one ask?

Today is Special Olympics Day

The annual track and field day has arrived, so have Nick and Sara. We will all go and watch Peter run his 100 dash. This is one of the events that one waits a year, and just like the Kentucky Derby, it is over in a flash. One never knows how this race will turn out. Will Peter run as fast as he can, using his true Forrest Gump like talents and finish the race? Or, will he run as fast as the person next to him, trying to strike up a conversation about the race, isn't this fun, maybe make a few smiley faces. Or, will he be distracted, as he was last year when someone fell, and he stopped and offered to help him up? One never knows....It is a bright sunny warm day..that is a good sign. Normally, this day turns out the to be the coldest, rainiest day of May, having to go in search of winter attire, just to make it through the few hours of entertainment.
So, I will leave for now. Go watch the opening ceremonies which always brings tears to my eyes. I will cheer for all the athletes as they do their own personal best to walk, or run or throw. I know it will be a warm fuzzy day, and this year the weather is a big plus. And, I will continue this story. The details of this long awaited race, the one Sara and Nick drove 6 hours to watch. I will let you know....



So the Harley Riders and Police Escort arrived on time, escorting the flame, the Star Spangled Banner was sung, and the games began. Pretty sunny picture, except, oh how could I forget, Peter reverted to his usual Special Olympics behavior of I am not going to participate. I need to eat, he tells us. But, Peter, you are running in a few minutes. Hot dogs, he states. Knowing that if he did not have a 1000 AM dog, he would most likely not participate. Sara, looks, and lets me know..I'll cover him mom, you go get the hot dogs. Luckily, she followed him as she was able to observe the stashing of the uniform into the trash as he took off. Several minutes before the race, Peter was stuffing his face with a hot dog, nothing like hot dog loading to get one to run. Uniform, back on, Peter is sent to the Lining up tent. And, we head down to the end of the track. As we patiently await his heat, Sara reminds me of all the money spent for her and Mike to go to soccer camps and tennis camps, and lessons and that Peter is now the only child left participating in a sport. Mmmm..and running is free!!
So we wait, wondering if between the line-up and the starting line will Peter make another participation decision. We squint, we look, ..does that look like him down there. And then we see him, he takes off, and runs....the best he has ever run. He does not stop, he runs fast, and crosses the finish line!! A major accomplishment. No, not first, or second, or even third...but a winner by completing the task.
So a quick soft ball throw, and this years events are over. Many winners there...all the participants trying their best. All the volunteers giving there time. And Peter, happy he participated, happy to have a pre-run hot dog, and now onto Boccie ball...his next Special Olympic Event.

The Addendum to Dancing

The Addendum to Dancing was to take place after “Dancing” however; I was a bit sidetracked by the washing and shrinkage event! Now, back on course. I must say, yes, I am proud to be an American, but I am also proud that Peter is my son. For many reasons, but today, for the sheer joy he brings into my life and others. Take Sara and Nick’s wedding for example. Okay, so I am a bit prejudiced, but really, if you want to spice an event, I suggest you could hire Peter and his compradres. No, not to do the wash, or wash your car, but to dance.
The night of Sara and Nick's wedding, the night went smoothly...Peter could have received the award for best sitter and best behave. No shenanigans. However, he was under the watchful of Ann, and he was soaking in the moments. But really, I think he was just waiting with bated breath for the dance. He sat, he waited patiently, and finally, the DJ announced the dancing would begin...that would be for everyone. The bride and groom dance over, the mother/father dance over, and now it was Peter's turn. And Peter and his compradres, Andy and Wilson, rushed the dance floor. The place erupted, the dancing began, there was no room on the dance floor, so people danced between the tables. I even saw my friends dancing in the hallway. There was something about Peter and his friends that seemed to send a message..let's dance! And so they did....all night. Even the DJ, observing the rush to the dance floor, jaw dropped in amazement and later he told me us...I know it was going to be good night!
The dancing continued. I have never seen so many baby boomers doing the YMCA in one place, at one time. We were "Shouting" and "Celebrating" and having Big Time Fun!!! I have never seen so many folks just having one good time...and I cannot help but think that Peter and friends had something to do with it.
Having attended other events that include Peter et al, and dancing is included, there is just something special about dancing with them. Maybe it is just their sheer enjoyment in the event. The I do not care what others are thinking, I am having a good time attitude. That feel good, laugh out loud feeling.Love it!
So, if you are in need of a boost, I am sure you could just call Pete and gang. I know they would oblige...and it would be free....in more ways than one!! And, I am quite sure, you will have BIG FUN!!!

A Reminder

I just had a Peter experience. Something I did not address when I discussed his love for the washing machine and his love to wash inordinate amounts of clothing on a daily basis. You see, Peter did not just like washing his clothes, he loved to wash anything he could find. When washing, he wasn't really good a choosing between Dedicates and Hand wash or Hot, Warm or Cool. Peter was a basic Cotton Sturdy - Hot kinda guy. Now, with his clothes, that worked. Got his clothes really clean, although, they were probably clean anyway, and had just been washed the day before, once or twice. But for me, I prefer Delicate and Hand wash and usually Cold was a good idea when it came to my wash. I, at one time, also used the clothes shoot, but when I was repeatedly finding my nice new and rather new t-shirts or tops, that I so carefully placed in that clothes shoot, now in the dryer mixed in with the sweats and the towels, all 44 pieces smashed together, my new size 8 t-shirt now a 2, I had to once again be creative. I needed to hide my clothes that needed washing, in order to stop the flow of donation bags to Goodwill for those who would actually fit into the new now sized 2 clothing. So, I bought baskets and hampers, and hid these objects under clothing in my closet, Peter, you know, was and is a wise one. He would search and search for items to add to his washing routine. At times, I won, and my clothing remained safe, and then there were the times, I slipped and somehow those precious, special items that so carefully needed to be washed got smashed in with the rest, and became victim to Hot and Cotton sturdy.
So, last night, was once again, a slip, an event that has not occurred recently, but yet today I will be visiting Goodwill with some really nice clothes that now will fit some cute petite person. For Peter, who was here briefly, and I mean briefly, managed to fill the coffers of the machine, wash on Hot, and sneakily throw the clothes into the dryer all while we sat and watched Michael open his birthday gifts. Now, just to let you know, that was all of about four gifts to open, so you see, that Peter is one talented guy.
Today, when I opened the dryer, I found my new sized clothes all muddled with towels and sweats and such. I know I muttered ...Peter!!! I really did like those outfits...really thought they were nice....I am hoping now someone will like them as much as I did.
With Peter visiting on weekends, I thought the clothes shoot remained a safe haven for my clothes. I should have known better!! Oh well...a reminder..back to the clothes hamper...back to hiding. Ya still gotta love him....after all, he was just trying to help!

Singing and Dancing

Peter's love for music grew as he did. Music seemed to be a way for him to communicate and retain information. Peter, who cannot really read beyond a kindergarten level, and who when trying to teach him something repetitive, it just did not stick, knows the words to many songs, many and varied songs. He started with the Patriotic songs, and than added quite a few songs to his own playlist. For a while loved Fifties music, he developed a short love for Country Western, spent many hours listening to those favorite wedding songs, you know...Celebration, Shout, YMCA, and more, he loves Mama Mia these days along with of course, High School Musical, and his true love..contemporary worship songs. I overheard Sara during our last visit, bribing..yes, it was an all out bribe..Peter is you run really fast in your Special Olympics race, I will buy you a new worship CD. Sort of brought back memories of the Frito dangling to win the race...only now it will be from the side lines.
Peter loved music so much, that we once again should have invested in the boom box companies and the company that makes the CD as we have spent major amounts of money on replacement CD's and the boom box itself. Oh yes, and those cute things to store CD's so they won't get sratched. I won't even repeat the demonstration story, because Peter just loves to stack and carry his CD's wherever he goes, and even the fancy scratch remover for CD's cannot get rid of all those scratches that occur during the travel time in the book bag. So everyone knew what Peter wanted for his birthday, the same CD they gave him last year.
The best part about Peter 's love for his CD's was that he does a combo dance sing routine when he plays certain CD's. One of his presents was a radio/CD under the kitchen counter CD player, so as soon as he arrived home from school he was into heavy diskjocking in the kitchen. Singing and dancing away. Laughing and squealing. Actually, Peter is quite a good dancer and has the beat...if you know what I mean. No matter, how bad my day, no matter how sad my heart, Peter and his dancing moves always made me forget my woes, and I almost always joined him at the disco. I cannot tell you what a great feeling it is to be making dinner, and the next thing you know, you are doing the YMCA in the kitchen. And that would be followed by Shout and a glass of wine...and life is good! I actually have become an expert in various wedding dances, as I would stop, listen to the words, and follow along. I am really good at "right foot two stomps, Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown. It was all that practice in the kitchen that enables me to join the youngsters on the dance floor and keep the beat.

I must admit, I miss those days of singing and dancing around the island. I miss the sheer delight of letting go and being our own entertainment in the kitchen, acting as if we had no cares in the world and the only thing that matter was making it through the Macarena. Maybe, I need to go out and purchase one of those CD's and just keep it on hand, play it as needed. Really, there is nothing like singing and dancing to lighten the soul! Once again, Peter, in his own way, made the crazy times in my life so much more bearable with his entertaining spirit.

I"m Proud to be an American

When it comes to dressing, Peter has his favorite pieces, of course, the hooded sweatshirt being the highest on the list, anything red, loves that vibrant color, and flag shirts. His love for flag shirts started shortly after 9-11.
9-11, the day none of us will ever forget. The day we all know exactly where we were when we starting viewing the events unfolding before us on the television. A day that still evokes feelings of sadness, unbelief, but also a strong sense of patriotism as we then watched the city of New York so bravely take on the disaster, and show the world, that city and the US would not be broken. During the days and months that followed, many patriotic songs were played on the radio, and many events were held that included the Star Spangled Banner and other such songs that renewed a spirit of patriotism. Peter became intrigued. Peter who never sat and watched TV at an early age, no he just ran, was beginning to sit for periods of time and watch a show or two. I never quite understood why he did not watch TV, was it an attention span thing, vision? I did not know, but knew he was not capable of paying attention to anything on that television set for any period of time. However, post 9-11, Peter watched. He watched and waited to hear the songs. He soon developed a love for any patriotic song and for years we bought him patriotic CD's.
For months, really years after 9-11, Peter remained a true Patriot. Peter who in his mind never could comprehend what really took place that day, did seem to understand how fortunate we are to live in the US. So, years after the new found patriotism became wearing off in many of us, Peter remained a stoic. I remember thinking during that time, if everyone had a Peter in their life, they would be daily reminded that we are so fortunate to live in the US. If everyone started the day out with the Star Spangled Banner or I am proud to be an American....would not we all just have a better attitude about all the good things we have by living in the US?
Peter usually started the day with the Star Spangled Banner, and the song I have my on play list..."Proud to be an American" was also usually played a minimum of twice a day. Peter would hunt out any event on TV that was playing the Star Spangled Banner, just to hear the song. When he found it, he would grab me, stop me from whatever I was doing, ask me to stand still, hand on chest and sing along. I cannot tell you how many times I sang that song, I even got pretty good at mixing with one hand, chesting with the other, singing and finishing dinner for the evening. Sara and Mike also were asked to join in, as a matter of fact, if you were anywhere near the kitchen or the TV, you would be asked to stand, chest, and sing. What I loved about these moments was the reminder that I am proud to be an American. We have so much, and sometimes are not appreciative, and Peter in his own little way, keeps that thought forefront. So, today, I would like to thank Peter for that pure simple reminder of that great blessing...freedom! For keeping the thought alive on a daily basis.For making me stop in the middle of a busy day and taking the moment to sing and know, no matter the politics...we do live in a great place. Hopefully, as you are reading this "I'm Proud to be an American" is on, if not, click... guaranteed to give you a good feeling, a realization of how blessed we are!

Dressing but not as in turkey

When our family was blessed with Peter, we were also blessed with his small size. Peter, remember the missing pincer grasp, cannot button, zip, or tie. So, lucky for me, Peter still fits in kid's size clothing. And, thanks to Land's End, who has boys clothes with rubber waist Peter can dress up in his rubber waist pants and still look pretty cool! Even though, Peter had hours of OT, he never developed the ability to button. On those rare occasions when he wore his suit, that would be his wedding and prom suit, we would dress in up in a matching blue shirt that unless closely supervised when undressing, he displayed an superman type behavior and with one quick movement, that shirt came off along with the seven buttons which were seen flying in every direction. This past Christmas, I made the decision to put that suit to rest, along with the blue shirt...I am tired of sewing on buttons, and from now on Peter will be seen in a crew neck sweater without any button shirts involved. No more zippers...just rubber waists.
Because Peter's clothes did not involve buttons or zippers when he was growing up, in Peter's younger years, Peter's wardrobe consisted of sweatshirts, hooded sweatshirts, and sweatpants. And as in Peterism, Peter loves his clothes. He loves those sweatpants and even more the hooded sweatshirt. There is nothing like a good hooded sweatshirt that keeps you warm and secure. When Peter is feeling bad, up goes that hood that seems to provide him comfort. These are the sweatshirts that when near a dryer are repeatedly warmed before applying.
He loves these outfits so much, that when winter is ending, the chill is out of the air, and summer is upon us, you will still find Peter in those layers of clothes. Ninety degrees does not deter Peter from wearing sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt. Convincing Peter, that shorts would be a better idea, goes unheard. So, again,, creativity takes place. At the end of the season, when one needs to change attire, I needed to hide all of those heavy clothes and replace them with the season at hand. Hiding a closet of clothes, again a trick, as Peter was the master of finding these items. So, between the washing and the seasons, I hid and retrieved.
When winter came, Peter so loved his shorts that I once again, had to hide those clothes. Recently, I received a phone call from his group home, stating he would not give up the season's clothes, and now his clothes are hidden again. Dressing, so easy for some, so hard to choose the perfect outfit. For Peter, security in warmth and familiarity. No concern about the look!

Measuring....

As you have noticed, Peter has a definite issue with quantity, tending towards the "too much" end of it. Too much soap for the car wash, too much soap for the washing machine. Actually, as I relayed the story the other day, I received a call from Sara who asked me if I remember the time she was watching, that would be "watching" Peter and he pulled the same stunt. Only she did not know the washing machine was spewing enormous amounts of soapsuds, so Peter took it upon himself to clean up. He did this by gathering every scatter rug in the house...not that I am a big scatter rug person...that belongs to our parents and grandparents, the scatter rug generation, but Peter managed to find the rugs that caught the mud and snow from the winter months, and the bathroom rugs and use these rugs to cover the mounds of soap. A valiant effort which ended in soap and mud soaked rugs along with the remaining scattered soapsuds. After Sara relayed the story, I pondered...did I remember that or was that another incident I just plain blocked from my memory???

So, back to amounts. Never too little, unless you are seeking information from Peter, but always too much. As in his need to wash his clothes. His idea of "helping" is to wash his whole closet...on a daily basis. So, to encourage the dirty and clean concept I purchased various and sundry types of laundry baskets or containers where he could place his dirty clothes. We are now the proud owners of Big Bird Hampers, baskets, bags, large waste baskets..if it was cutsie and could collect dirty laundry, it was on the purchase plan for me. Under close supervision, Peter was watched to demonstrate that he could take off his dirty clothes, place them in his new shiny cute hamper, and put on his pajamas. Dirty here, clean stays in your closet, and you put on the PJ"S. Easy! I really do not know what Peter did not not understand or still will make an attempt to understand as when the opportunity evolves, he will remove as many items from his closet and quietly, yes, so quietly, sneak into my room and throw them down the clothes shoot.

The clothes shoot where pounds of laundry filled it's coffers on a daily basis. I never really knew what actually was clean or dirty, gave up the battle and washed. Washed and washed. Peter's real plan was always to then sneak downstairs and do his own laundry, which of course he was able to implement on a fairly regular basis. Again, a conceptual amount issue. How many clothes can I actually stuff into that machine before it starts to rock and roll. His idea of doing a load correlated to stuffing it full, holding one hand on the clothes to prevent the clothes from falling to the floor, and finalize with a door slam.

The washing activity became such as time consuming task that I needed to hide his clothes. And hiding also became an activity as Peter became the master of finding the hidden or supposedly hidden clothes. I would empty his closets and drawers and only hand out the clothes he would be wearing for the day. This worked for awhile, until the clothes that were hidden were found or I just got tired of climbing into the cedar closet, going under boxes or blankets, to find an outfit for the day. As the seasons changed, my battle to keep the clothes hidden was always replaced with the thought that maybe Peter would not wash this time. He was usually good about this for awhile, and I kept watch for awhile and than the process started again.

To this day, Peter loves a good wash. And if that goal cannot be reached, he is really into warming up his sweatshirt in the dryer. This, I can handle, many dryer runs, but safer, user friendly. It involves less soap and he love the warmth the sweatshirt provides...try it someday! As I did throughout Peter's life, I learned to "pick my battles" and also needed to decide what is really important to pursue, to lose sleepover. When it came right down to it...not much! When it comes to store bought parts, those can always be replaced, so I kept that close to my heart. As long as nothing was broken, as in body parts, no one was hurt....than it could be replaced, and so my sanity remained cohesive...or at least, so I thought!

Staying over

For as old as Peter is, his behavior has remained rather consistent throughout his life. Yes, he has grown, and slowed down a bit, a very bit, but when he comes to visit as he did last night, he still will try to wash clothes or sneak in an indoor car wash in my shower. He just quietly sits and waits, and when I am not in the room is gone in a flash, as if I would not notice. He was only here a few hours when he went MIA and was found early evening giving my new clean shower doors a much needed coat of soap. He tried very hard, that would be extremely hard to do some laundry, but being on the top of my game plan, he was deferred. Luckily, he now has the Internet and Skye to occupy his time. He will call you ahead of time to remind you that you need to be on Skye...not quite understanding that his sister and friends are not just sitting there waiting for him to be Syped! So during the evening hours, when not soaping or escaping he browes and Skypes.

He has also yet to understand the concept of "sleeping in". Peter, you can sleep in tomorrow until 800 Am, how about trying 700 AM.... It is a really nice feeling, Pete, to sleep in!! And as always, he promises and I believe.

So, this morning at 600 AM, as I hear the cupboard doors opening and motors running, I mosey on downstairs to start my day. Peter has already started up the Internet and is looking up his "favs". As he had invested in a fair amount of time last evening reviewing "car washes", he has now moved on to looking up trains. Peter loves the METRA, and has found that there are many "pieces" of information regarding this train system. He especially loves the one that arrives, I believe in the Aurora train station, I should know this as I have heard so many times. What he likes about this particular clip, is the LOUD clanging the train makes as it enters the station. To assimilate the actual train arrival, he turns up the volume and if you did not know better, you may think that Metra was landing right in your kitchen. This little activities will take place for approximately an hour or so, and then he moves onto his absolute favorite saying, which is "The doors are about to close". He will repeat these words in his lowest base voice that he can muster, but than likes to use his soprano high pitched voice, like a munchin, saying these words over and over in all different levels of tonation, the doors are about to close. All these variation of the tones to the phrase bringing him absolute joy and laughter!

This morning as he is eagerly googling his favorite topics and I hovering over my first cup of coffee and trying to wake up the brain and get it motivated for the day. I hear " You have reached your destination". Now, that is a new one..the GPS? You can google the GPS? So I ask..Peter you can google the GPS? He replies that yes, it is very easy...you just have to put in TUNV...magic I assume! So, as I foggily prepare for the day, not really know where I am going, I am reminded, frequently, I have reached may not have reached my final Destination, but my journey is good!

The Washing Machine

As am I reminded of the car washes, I find the words car wash synchronous with the word soap, and that inspires me to discuss the washing machine. You see, in our house, my washing machine is conveniently located between the kitchen and garage, placed there so I would not need to climb the long steps to the basement to place a quick load of wash. Conveniently located that during the course of the day, I can do many loads of wash, as the washing equipment is just steps sway. So convenient...and,even more convenient for Peter.
When my second hand washer and dryer finally called it quits, I made a decision to go out and buy what I thought was the best, most convenient, top of the line washing machine, you know, the ones that are very popular these days, the front loading ones that require minimal amounts of soaps. That one. I am thinking this will be the perfect machine where I can place items on the top, or better yet, fold the clothes on the top as the top is no longer needed for entry. So thrilled with my purchase, my new Maytag washer and dryer arrived and I was in wash heaven. Perfect, I am thinking. Looks good, convenient...could life get any better?
In my search of this new machine, I forget one small item that would make a significant difference in my life...that machine, that pretty, cream colored, expensive machine's door, was at the perfect height for Peter to open. Most likely, not an issue when buying the machine, as previous to this new Maytag arriving, Peter showed no interest in washing...nope, probably could not get him to wash if you paid him. So, in my list of things I needed or felt were essential in a new washing machine, a front loader at Peter's height was not a concern. Knowing what I know now....top loader would definitely be the washer of choice...but who knew that Peter would add a new business of washing every item he found in the house when, I of course, was occupied.
This fancy machine was computer operated, no more knobs and dials...totally push button, and when the salesperson recommended the buyer protection package that costs half the price of the machine every three years, I bought in. My mind did go to Peter playing with these way to easy buttons, and, as he said, if the computer goes, that will cost you about $800.00. Peter insurance I am thinking. So every three years, I bought, and now have paid twice the amount for that machine! However, the dials, although of interest, were somewhat intriguing to Peter, not just as intriguing as the act of washing itself.
He found a new activity which has kept him and me occupied since the day my new found friend, the machine entered the door. The one thing Peter just could not comprehend, was the amount of soap needed to wash. Remember Mister I need a whole bottle of Dawn to wash a car, well, Peter maintained that Mister I need a boatload of soap to wash clothes. No hiding of Tide, explaining how much to use, nor any method of constraint could convince Peter that if he decided to wash, he needed small, that would be minuscule amounts of soap. Peter always made a decision to use as much soap as he deemed necessary. He also maintained the fine art of sneaking in a wash while one eliminates..if you know what I mean.
I distinctly remember one fine sunny day, when I came downstairs and heard the machine going, only to roll my eyes, and understand what had just taken place. By this point, I had come to accept the event and move on with my day. I, remaining in the kitchen, detected an unusual sound emitting from from my friend the Maytag, it was as if that machine was suffering from severe gastric distress...the whirling and the churning that was taking place was painful to my ears. I approached slowly, entering the small laundry hall, hoping to analyze and solve the problem. I had much to do that day, so a quick fix was in order. But, to what to my eyes did appear, I really needed the Christmas clock at that point playing a small round of Jingle Bells, as the washing machine, as if it was vomiting, has expelled gargantuan amounts of fine white tiny bubbles. Mounds of white puffy soap was filling the room, so much, that I needed to make a pathway to the machine. Winter soapuds, in the middle of summer right there in my laundry room. Never experiencing such an event, I was not quite sure where to turn, what does one do when Frosty the soap man is melting all over ones floor and building knee high piles of soapsuds in the process. Walking through the piles, I turned off the machine, and than made a grave mistake... I opened the door, the front end loader door where the rest of the machines "stomach distress" lie. The machine, with the door open, removed the remaining soapsuds that was causing so much pain and that soap landed on me and the floor. I, standing in knee high soapsuds, was now covered with bubbles. I, now, have a one to one experience with Frosty as that was who I momentarily appeared to be.
Do you know how long it takes to get rid of soap bubbles? Do you know how long it takes to get the soap out of the clothes that were in the washer before they can be replaced, only to be washed again?
Things changed that bright sunny day. Deanna got a call, and spent the afternoon cleaning the laundry room. As for Peter, he thought it was great fun, there was nothing so exciting as seeing the machine spew the soap, it equated to an automatic door experience, a hand wringing, squealing with delight experience. Oh, to be so easily entertained! I, on the other hand, needed to dig deep that day, to see the immediate benefits of entertainment one derives from a washing machine experience a gastrointestinal event!!

Taking the Car Wash inside

The car wash did not always take place outside. Peter, in his own creative mind, was able to find inside opportunities to Paint the soap inside the house. This took place when Peter either stated he was going to take a shower or was asked to take a shower. The shower door, inside and out, became the car. Spending a generous amount of time in the act of cleanliness, Peter would empty my shampoo bottles in a washcloth and "clean' the shower door. I am amazed, as this event still takes place today, the amount of soap one can apply to such a small area. The soap, which again resembled frosting on the cake would later be cleaned by me or Deanna. Not a small undertaking as the layers are thick. Now, you may ask, why not stop Peter from playing car wash in my shower. You see, with Peter it came down to Inside car wash or momentarily peace and quiet to which I made the decision that those fifteen minutes of peace and quiet were well worth the one half hour of cleaning that would take place later. If I allow him fifteen minutes of cleaning, which included a shower as I always reminded he had to wash his body first, than I would have a few minutes to spend for me. Fifteen minutes where I was fully aware of Peter's location and fifteen minutes where I knew that the only "damage" would be soap of the shower door. A trade of utmost importance in the sanity cycle of life. Those precious fifteen minutes may include making dinner, a phone call, a moment to sit and read the newspaper. Fifteen minutes of P and Q...a refueling moment if needed. What is a bit of soap on a door anyway? In Peter's life, I made decisions that most logical people may question, but in my life, made perfect sense.
The carwash now also takes place, rather quietly, on Peter's lap. During Peter's car wash years, the Internet came along with You Tube. Peter, who has the reading and writing level of maybe a kindergartner has the ability of googling CAR WASH and will spend hours viewing all those post on You Tube...occasionally needing a bit of monitoring based on the level of clothes those participating in the car wash are wearing. He is mesmerized by these hundreds of car washes, and sits for hours and watches, squeals with delight, laughs, wrings his hands, and thoroughly enjoys the moment of You Tube car washes. Very entertaining as this could go on for hours. To be honest, the computer and the Internet has been a "God send" as now Peter can spend hours googling car washes and trains, the Wiggles, and recently before going to Minnesota, spent hours trying to find the Lite Rail. With a refurbished laptop on his lap, he remains in my view which cuts down on the soap consumption, inside and out. In my mind, a small window that opened for Peter which keeps him entertained. And for me, an opportunity to sit next to him, a glass of wine in hand, and read, or watch a show, or stare aimlessly into space,enjoying the peace and quiet

The Gas Station

Peter did not always play car wash, on a rare occasion, that would be a one time rare occasion, Peter decided to play gas station. Imagine yourself on a beautiful sunny summer day, a kind of day that is perfect for spending in the yard, picking or cleaning or maintaining the yard, surrounded by your family happily occupying themselves with either helping you, or just being entertained by themselves. A day to accomplish much needed yard work, surrounded by your loved ones, Perfect..sunny..warm..fuzzy! Feel it?
It was of course on this day, that we used the ASSUME word...you know that word...you know the one I tell my student's never assume because if you take apart the word..you get the meaning. So assuming we did. I assumed some family member was either playing or watching Peter, and others in the group also made that same assumption. It was the perfect family bonding afternoon, so someone had to be in charge. Assuming away, and thinking Peter was playing car wash on Sara's old car, so we were not concerned about the pounds of soap that he would apply, we went about our business. After awhile, I decided that I really needed to check on whoever was watching Peter, so I headed to the front of the house. There I found Peter, contently playing a new game called gas station. You see, when one plays gas station one takes the garden hose, turns if on, and then puts it into the gas tank of his sister's car. Filling it up...just like in the old days, full service, what more could you ask. Gasping, hoping it wasn't true, that sinking feeling that I had previously experienced related to Peter's activities, the inner voice that wanted to scream "PETER" all gathered within my spirit. I cannot believe this is happening. Just when I think that Peter has done everything imaginable on earth, he comes up with a new activity!
Immediately, I ran and turned off the water and tried to explain to Peter that was really not a good idea. Peter, in his innocence, really did not understand and was just playing, staying busy. Realizing the damage was done, I called several gas stations and asked for advice. I have to admit I do not know anyone who ever had their gas tank purposely filled with water. But, now I can tell you what you do when that happens.
The rest of that perfect day was spent observing Sara's car lifted carefully on a tow truck. Did you know that you cannot turn on the car once the water has been infused. The junker than spent the week drying out at the local gas station and could be retrieved only after the tank had been removed, dried, and reinserted. The cost equivalent to the price of the car itself.
The silver lining...always found it important to find the silver lining in these meaningful events. At least we knew there was water in the gas tank, as the damage would have been horrific had she turned on the car...and we probably would not have realized the cause.
I am thinking that my sheer look of terror when I saw this event occurring made an impression on Peter. He must have learned that day never to play gas station again, as this scene was not repeated. The calm hysteria that occurred following the discovery must have sent a message somewhere to his head. And we, held a small gathering, the neighbors coming to view the car removal, and we explaining oh it was just Peter....and they smiling, telling me I should write a book...that day, I could only think of the check I would be writing! Some day, a tale to be told....

The Chandelier

I am expecting company this weekend, so knowing that my house is in dire need of cleaning, I needed to call my cleaning lady Deanna. She has not showed up for awhile and after a very stern discussion with her...get you anny fanny over as I do not want to have my college roommates thinking I live in a dirty, hasn't been cleaned since Christmas house, she agreed to come. So, Deanna, (AKA me!) has dedicated the entire day to making the house look like Mr. Clean, was he the White Tornado? lives here. Ha..fat chance this cleaning event will be happening again soon.
As I am cleaning, I find Peter's imprints of life throughout the house. Take for instance, the chandelier. The beautiful white cracked porcelain chandelier that we saved to purchase from Porter's the fancy furniture store in Racine, many moons ago. The very expensive white cracked porcelain chandelier that is now not so perfect because it was touched by Peter. As I am dusting, I now make the connection of how he learned to fling that bowling ball so far down the alley. Peter, for as tiny as he was, learned the fine art of flinging Big Bird over the balcony which looks into the dining room where you find the wonderful white cracked porcelain chandelier which has those tiny little cups located at the end of the candlestick like lights. The ones that would catch the drips if they were actual candles. Well, all mine won't be catching drips, as on his flight to the floor or the table, wherever he landed, Big Bird managed to come in contact with these cute little drip catchers and so several of mine have rather large chips. And no, the company is out of business, so the catchers will remain forever chipped. This chandelier holds many memories as often, returning home late at night while the kids were supposedly being carefully supervised by a responsible teen, we would find clothes hanging from the chandelier or various stuffed animals surrounding the table, all having been thrown by Peter over the course of the evening. It became such a regular occurrence, that as I turned off the lights for the evening, I included the gathering of the objects that were used to play over the balcony baseball earlier in the evening. See, the special memories that chandelier holds. I cannot look or dust this chandelier without these wonderful fond (?) memories. At the time, I am sure, I had many a discussion with a sitter, why, we even had doors installed in the balcony opening in order to spare the chandelier, but Peter,in his own way, still managed to toss that incredibly heavy bird overboard or is that overbalcony.
As I went on to dust the collection of books found underneath a coffee table, there I noticed the replacement book from Mexico. Yes, I remember that night we were had friends over for dinner, a nice fire going in the fireplace, and what do I see out of the corner of my eye, it happened so quickly, the beautiful book that I found in southern Mexico depicting all the places we had visited, slowly engulfed in flames. Peter feeding the fire. The book never to be found, was replaced by another, not quite the same. And yet, the book burning, such a vivid memory!
And now, into his bedroom where one of the roomies will sleep. I wonder which of the five alarm clocks they will set? Peter loves clocks, so he over the years, received several alarm clocks, all fully functioning in his bedroom. Peter loves clocks so much we have a large variety. Maybe when they come I could hang the train clock which sounds like a train entering your kitchen on the hour, or the obnoxious bird clock...it is spring afterall. Oh wait, I think I will go retrieve the Christmas clock, it will make for good conversation and keep us on time. We could use a little Silent Night mid-April.
So, my journey through my house, brings smiles and laughter. The broken pieces, the replacement parts. All pieces of Peter that has made up my life with Peter Labanowsky. All pieces that I would not change one bit.

Bridges

So, my very special boy, now really a man, still boy, turned 22 this weekend. He had the best birthday weekend ever, as he visited his favorite sister Sara...works when you only have one, no competition involved, and her husband in Minneapolis. Because Peter has a love for trains, it is on the same love level as car washes, he chose to ride the Lite Rail to Mall of America. The sheer simple joy of a train ride is all he needed. That and a hotel room made up for the perfect birthday.
Spending six hours in the car inthe drive to Minnesota definitely shed some light on Peter's development since he moved into his group home. Since the move, several years ago, Peter has matured nicely and has become more talkative..that would be 10 words per sentence now,, rather than 5 or 6. He has experienced more group activities, so taking him to a Twins game was an enjoyable experience, as he participated, stayed seated, yes, stay seated which is a major improvement throughout the game. He loved being there, did not want to leave, and ate two of the largest hot dogs known to mankind. He even likes to shop and engages himself in looking while we shopped. Again, all these changes are amazing in our eyes.
However, the surprising moment came as my friend the GPS was having us cross the Mississippi every two blocks, the voice saying turn left, oh that would be left again, and again, and over and over. So, we continued to cross the Mississippi, back and forth. On one of our crossing, I attempted to point out the new bridge, was quickly reprimanded by Peter to pay attention to my driving and than professed that Bridges made him very nervous, to me, a new found phobia for bridges. Really Peter, bridges? Oh, I am very afraid of bridges he claimed. Looking very scared I held his hand to cover the last of the many bridges we crossed, I pondered. Dentists, doctors, thunderstorms, boats..now bridges? Peter has never had a care in the world about bridges. So what is with the new concern? I do know that when Peter is around anyone long enough, he has a tencency to pick up other's behaviors. Is this one of them? Is one of his roomies afraid of bridges? So, Peter, does Andy not like bridges? Yes, Peter admitted one of his roommates did not like bridges, so I guess, Peter made a decision that he also does now not like bridges.
In my mind, I am thinking, Oh no..we are not going there. No new fears..old ones, okay,....new ones, NOPE! So, after finally, arriving to our destination by pulling the cord on the GPS and calling Sara, Peter and I have a bridge heart to heart.
Peter, I say, in my most convincing voice, you are not afraid of bridges, you never have been, you are not now, and you will not be afraid of bridges. Peter looks at me and says..I"m not? No, you are not afraid of bridges!! Really? Really!!! Okay, he agrees, and that was the end of the bridge phobia. Interesting, no more bridge fears for the rest of the trip.
Why, do I think the next time it may be escalators...because I know Peter, and he will observe this behavior and think that he needs it. We will have this discussion again. Remember Peter, you are not afraid of that. If only life were so simple I could convince him that he is not afraid of dentists!