Things I REalize

Nov. 22, 2009
It's early on this saturday morning.
I just put laundry in, my son is moving back with me to sleep on the couch. (a whole other post) Part economy, part learning experience.
I was thinking about my day.
I'll be spending part of the day with my grandson; driving through the car wash, going to the pet store and Trader Joe's. It's our mid-day saturday thing he and I have. NPR blues program playing on the radio.
After grocer shopping and "train spotting" we go back to grandma's house for lunch and a movie, and then his momma picks him up.
To my grandson, I can do almost no wrong. From the beginning, he spent the night with me, snuggling in grandma's bed. At grandma's house, there's a pool and always a wilingness to swim. Sometimes we swim several times in a day, on hot nights during the summer, we've been known to go night swimming.
Isaiah is the only other human I know willing to take the water temperature as it is, he'll get in anytime, like me, almost a challenge to the senses. In fact, he has more guts than I do.
Isaiah loves Grandma's car. He gets to sit in the front seat, we cruise 'T' street with the windows down, arms out the window, tapping our toes to the music. If it's cold outside, we put the heater on for the summer effect. Isaiah will point out interesting birds and trees and he's starting to read street signs; or he'll look at me, nodding his head to the music and smile.
He knows the way to grandma's house. I can be almost anywhere around sacramento, and when the game 'how do we get to grandma's house' starts, he invariably will talk me home. "Turn right here" "Turn left here" "Go forward"
Great grandma times.
I was reminded a couple of weeks ago just how fragile that aura of greatness and perfection is.
So, autistic kids rely on routine, or memory of a similar event (for lack of a better explaination).
Three years ago, we were all in LA for my sisters wedding. Isaiah likes his straws (his 'birds'), and had a slew of them in his hand while we were looking at the view from the balcony. I think we were on the 4th floor. One of his straws made a get-away, falling to the pavement below.
The look of horror on his face was complete.
I watched as he cried as we both saw a couple of cars pass over the straw.
I went downstairs and got it. He kept a bead on it and pointed from the balcony. (Ursi was there with him - and we tried hard not to laugh)
His sigh of relief was audible even to me when he saw me pick up the straw.
I was the HERO!
He learned "help" that day - the word I had been trying to teach him to replace the frustration made sense to him. From there, he learned "need help".
Now he says "grandma, i need help" - sometimes "please" follows that.
Great strides.
Anyway, about the hero thing.
He and I both learned I can't fix everything. (That was hard for both of us, for different reasons)
We got a balloon from Trader Joes. I tied it around his wrist. It stayed there all the way home, up the the porch. As he switched hands to open the door, the balloon slipped free and was up in the tree before he had time to say "help!".
Bummer.
I know it's impossible to retrieve that darned balloon. He, on the other hand, can't stop asking me for help and doesn't understand why I'm not helping.
After a while of fits and misunderstanding - or, not understanding why grandma couldn't get up in that tree and get his yellow balloon, we arrived at trader joes and received another balloon, tears on his face, but smiling.
I imagine as he and I get older, try as I might, there will be more things I can't fix but would love to, for him.
Anyhow, I've lost my train of thought, kitty is trying to type and my laundry is done.