Thanks, Mom

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There she is. Mom.

This picture was taken back in 1996, during one of my visits to her and Dad’s home in Sarasota, Florida. I have another picture of her from two years later that means a lot more to me. But I’m reluctant to share it because it contains our entire wedding party, and I try not to post pictures of people without their permission.

Anyhow, the story I want to tell has to do with my wedding to Katie in 1998 and the role Mom played in making it special—as well as the role she continues to play, even though she has long passed on.

A Special Wedding Gift.

Two months prior to our wedding, Mom was pretty sick. The leukemia she had lived with for years was beginning its final march on her system. We weren’t sure she would make it to the wedding. We even began looking into moving the wedding to Sarasota so she could be with us. Continue reading

The Ballad of the Bedeviling Bedroom

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See that picture up there? That’s my boy (fourth child, third son, 11 years old), trying to go to sleep in his new bed in his new bedroom. We moved just about everyone around this past weekend. Usually, I would balk at such a thought—ASD kids have a hard time with transitions. But this was a pretty important move for a couple of reasons that I can’t get into right now.

Anyway, this poor boy was having a hard time with the change. He was excited to be moving to his older brother’s (third child, second son, 13 years old) room. The two of them had been roommates a few years back, and they had a blast together. But once he got into the room, he couldn’t cope. Within five minutes of Katie and me praying over him and giving him a good night kiss, he was back in our room, eyebrows knit, hands wringing, voice aquiver. Continue reading

A Field Guide for Holiday Visitors

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Well, here we are again, on the verge of another holiday season. Warm feelings abound this time of year, and everyone feels the urge to form unusually large gatherings and consume massive portions of food and drink. There’s something about the earlier sunset and the growing chill in the air that puts people in a nostalgic, romantic mood. Either that, or thinking about the cold and darkness of death makes them want to huddle together for protection. Whatever the reason, there will be family gatherings galore over the next month or so.

And then there are the ASD families. If you know anything about autism, you know that people on the spectrum can have a hard time with sensory overload. Noises and crowds can make them shut down or act out. Or both. Changes in routine are unsettling. The different smells, tastes, and textures of a holiday meal can be overwhelming. Even when they’re surrounded by people they know and love, they’re still surrounded. And that doesn’t feel good.

All of this got me thinking about how different our family can be—and how different we may appear to people who come to visit. Mind you, most of our relatives and friends are familiar with our dynamic, but there are a few outliers. Not to mention, new friends may end up dropping by. So, with no malice or prejudgment intended, I decided to revisit and revise the guidelines I had written a couple of years ago for holiday visitors to our home.

A Field Guide to the Zanchettin Holiday Home.

  • Please remember that the Hallmark Channel makes its money by shamelessly peddling its special form of mendacity. No one’s dining room looks like that, and certainly not ours. We’re too busy running to therapy sessions and prepping for IEP meetings to dust every other day. Or every other month. Or ever.
  • No, the dining room chairs do belong in the living room. In front of the computers. Which get tons of use. Which is why the chairs are battered and stained. And why some have the stuffing pulled out of them. Nervous, stimmy, perseverative kids tend to do that sort of thing.
  • If you find yourself trapped in a heavily one-sided conversation with one of the kids, remember that nonverbal clues don’t work. Use your words. Find some hook to change the subject. Unless, of course, you enjoy lengthy discourses about the relative merits of water type Pokémon versus grass types in the Kanto Region.
  • Please try not to make any references to any popular music. Or Rap music. Or Disney movie soundtracks. For some reason, all my kids have convinced themselves that they love metal music. Because their oldest brother blasts it into his ears to help him deal with the noise and chaos of his high school hallways.
  • Sorry, no Turkey Bowl in this family. A few of them watch Notre Dame football, but for the most part, these kids would fit the (stereo)typical definition of nerds or geeks. So instead of football, how about a rousing game of Super Mario? Or two hours binge watching the latest YouTube video game walk-throughs from Chuggaa Conroy?
  • Yeah, he spins around like that sometimes. Or hops. Or planks. He’ll be fine.
  • Don’t be offended if one or more of the kids disappears without notice. It isn’t you; it’s her. She’s probably looking for a quiet place to unwind. Just shrug your shoulders and move on to another child. We’ve got six of them, so there should be plenty to go around.
  • Don’t be surprised if, when you ask one of the kids what he does besides school, he replies, “Therapy.” He’s being honest.
  • Yes, he often sits upside down like that, with his head near the floor and his feet in the air. Or athwart both arms of the chair. Or draped over the back of the sofa. And yes, he’s very comfortable doing it.
  • Yes, I know he’s taking a bath right before dinner. That’s his safe place when things get too noisy. He’ll be out in about an hour.
  • Pardon me while I dole out the kids’ medicines. I have to take care of dinner and bedtime, so it’ll take a little bit longer than my morning routine. I’ll be back in about 10 minutes.
  • All compliments about our parenting will be graciously accepted by the management. All advice will be graciously ignored.
  • Why yes, I’d love another glass of wine. How did you know?