Happy Birthday, Alex

 “What do you think he’s trying to tell me?”

Your new job coach called me yesterday at the start of your shift, asking for tips. Her voice was so sincere. “He keeps putting the cleaning supplies away, and I’m not sure why.”

This is still a new job experience - a new workplace, new job coaches, new tasks for you. “He’s trying to see if he can just be done if he puts the supplies away,” I tell her. “Tell him he’s not done yet.” 

I can hear her telling you, “Alex, you’re not done yet.” I suggest she try to make the tasks explicit, saying something like “First,..., then…., next” and foreshadow how much you need to do. She thanked me and hung up and didn’t call back, so I’m hoping it worked.

For someone who is minimally speaking, you sure know how to get your point across. Sometimes people miss what seems so clear to us, those of us who’ve been learning your language for over 30 years.

It’s your birthday today - 34. How is that even possible? So much life has been lived, so many memories. When you were very young, and newly diagnosed with autism, I was often fearful of the future. I was limited and narrow on what I thought your life should be. I naively imagined that I could have much more control over my life, and the life of you and your sister, than is possible. 

Life is messy and complicated and wonderful. We’ve faced frightening times, challenges, joys, and the simple mundane day to day. Your autism makes your life difficult in so many ways, but you are positive and resilient. You have so much of your father in you, in your easy going temperament. 

People constantly underestimate you, but you don’t miss anything. You’re very observant and also in tune with everyone’s emotions, especially your family’s. You like most people, but have no patience for people who are fake, or who treat you like a child or a pet. 

Today, on your birthday, I’m thinking of all the ways you’ve surprised me and made me smile, and some of so very many happy memories.

I remember the way you used to build your creations out of pop tubes and clothespins, cutting them to specific lengths, combining colors, flattening them to use as stim toys. You had a purpose and a plan. Just one of many ways that we could see your engineering mind.

I remember when you asked for white chocolate almond bark at a candy store in Door County and I told you no because I didn’t think you understood what you were asking for. I thought I knew better. Then you asked a second time, and a third time and I finally said yes. And even though you rarely tried any unfamiliar food, you gobbled it down. I learned that you like white chocolate and I learned that I should pay attention to what you were telling me.

I remember when Best Buy sold DVDs and you asked for a tv show called Firefly. I’d never heard of it and I assumed you didn’t know what you were asking for, yet you were so specific. Several trips to Best Buy in a row you made a beeline for the display and grabbed Firefly off the shelf. Finally, we relented and bought the season. And we watched the whole thing and we all loved it. I still don’t know where you learned about that show, but I’m so glad you introduced it to our family.

I remember the time at Cinder’s when you slowly and gently took a straw from the server's apron because she was busy talking and didn’t give you a straw for your drink fast enough for you.

I love baking cookies with you, watching movies, going for drives in the car, and going to Disney. I love the way your smile goes all the way to your eyes and makes them smile. I love the look on your face when you’re trying to do something silly or sneaky. I love watching your face on a roller coaster or walking through Disney World. I love how excited you are to see us when we pick you up for a visit, and I love that you’re ready to be done with us when we bring you back to your home.

I love you for who you are and I’m so lucky to be your mom.

 

Happy Birthday, Alex.