Big Daddy Autism

Today is a significant day for most people around the world.  Tragic events occurred in three cities in the US which affected the lives of billions of people around the world.  My heart goes out to all those who lost loved ones or whose lives have been altered by that horrible day in 2001.

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But that is not the subject of this post.  In addition to a day that will live in infamy, today is also my birthday.  I’m 46 years old today and wanted to use this occasion to impart upon you a little wisdom I have stumbled upon in those 46 years. I actually started thinking about this several years ago while listening to the Grateful Dead, who must get some credit for this nugget which has finally fully formed in my brain.

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I have been alive for approximately 16,800 days.  Around 10 of those days have been truly monumental. Monumental days include those such as the day I was born, the birth of my children and the day I met wife, etc.  Then there have been about 300 really important or significant days.  Examples of significant days are those where; I was on a great vacation, a friend or relative passed on, or a big business or personal decision was made.

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That leaves about 16,500 days that I have lived which were neither monumental nor uber significant.  That is 98% of the days that I have been alive.  These are the days which I believe Jerry Garcia referred to when he sang “there are days and there are days between.”   Approximately 98% of my life has been spent in “the days between.”  Only 2% have been in the “days.”  There may be some aging Deadhead out there who will claim I misquoted or misinterpreted the song.  That’s irrelevant.

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The point is that it is easy to be joyous, excited, thrilled, scared, exhilarated, sad, etc. during the monumental and significant days.  Because they are, well, monumental and significant.  It is also easy to take for granted the other days because, well, they are not monumental and not significant.

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What I have only recently learned to do is to fully appreciate the days in between the monumental and the significant.  For many years I just let those days slip by in a robotic routine and dense fog.  Some of them were good.  Some of them were bad.  But all of them were not appreciated adequately. No more.  I do not have nearly enough days left to waste 98% of them.

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As I write this, I have no idea whether my 46^th (an insignificant one numerically) birthday will be monumental or not.  Doesn’t matter, I am going to spend it as though it is.  In furtherance of this goal, I am going to use my birthday as an excuse to get unlimited hugs and kisses from my kids and wife and eat two slices of birthday cake. Because that, my friends, is how I want to spend this day. I have no clue what tomorrow will bring, but I know I will not waste or fail to give it the respect it deserves even if nothing at all of note happens.

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Today, of all days, is a good one to remember the preciousness of each one.

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Since Griffin is approaching fifteen years of age, Mrs. Big Daddy and I have been leaving him alone in the house for a few minutes at a time every now and again.  He is an excellent rule follower and, usually, when we return, he is right where we left him – watching elevator videos or classic Wilford Brimley Liberty Medical commercials on You Tube.

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As you, my dear and loyal readers know, Friday is Pizza Night at Casa de Big Daddy.  It is, far and away, Griffin’s and Big Daddy’s favorite night of the week.  One recent Friday, immediately after Mrs. Big Daddy made the call for delivery, the need for both adults and Lil Sis to leave the house for a short time arose.  The details of our simultaneous errands are irrelevant, although the end result was Griffin alone in the house while the pizza delivery guy was set to arrive in 30 – 40 minutes.

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I was certain to be back home in time, however, while I was out and about, I couldn’t help notice how much our present circumstances resembled Schrödinger’s Cat Thought Experiment / Paradox.  Yeah that’s how my mind works.

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Griffin is strict about the “no answering the door no matter what rule.”  But he also loves pizza.  Also, Griffin is completely clueless about the concept of money and the fact that the pizza delivery guy would be expecting some before turning over the goods.  I am also fairly certain, the pizza deliver guy would be just as clueless about the concept (and reality) of Griffin as Griffin is of the concept (and reality) that food costs money.

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In Schrödinger’s much simpler experiment, the cat in the box was both alive and dead at the same time in the absence of an observer.  Likewise, with no observer (i.e. adult) present in Casa de Big Daddy, as long as both Mrs. Big Daddy and I were on our errands, the pizza had both been delivered and not been delivered.   (If anyone is confused at this point, Google Schrödinger and you are certain to become even more confused.)

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It was only when Schrödinger opened his box that he would be able to tell if the cat was dead or alive.  He could never know while the box remained closed.  Similarly, only when either Mrs. BD or I arrived home would we know whether the pizza guy had been there or not.  Mind you, either way, there absolutely, positively would be no pizza in the house.  However, if the door bell had rang while we were gone, Griffin would talk incessantly about the experience for a period of time which would need carbon dating to calculate.  Schrödinger has no idea how lucky he is that cats can’t speak.

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Friday night is usually pizza night at Casa de Big Daddy.  Griffin, of course, knows this and starts to think (and talk) about it early every Monday morning.  Last Friday, when Griffin arrived home after school he began moaning:

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“I am STARVING!!!!”

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To me this just seemed like his way of signalling it was time to call the pizareria. Concerned, Mrs. Big Daddy replied:

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“Why are you starving?”

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Griffin quickly responded in a matter of fact fashion:

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“I have been starving myself all day because we are having pizza tonight?”

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At this point the conversation became a bit surreal.  Kafka and Dali would be proud:

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MRS BD:  “Didn’t you eat breakfast at school?”

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Griffin: “Yep!  Doubles of breakfast burritos!”

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MRS BD: “And what about lunch?”

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Griffin:  “Cheeseburger, double fries and a smoothie!!! It was good.”

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MRS BD: Didn’t I just see you inhale a bag of Doritos about five minutes ago.

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Griffin:  “Yep.  And some water”

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MRS BD: “If you’ve already had breakfast burritos (doubles), lunch, a smoothie and a bag of chips, how is that considered ‘starving yourself’ and why are you so hungry at 4:00?”

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Griffin: “Because we are having pizza tonight!”

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Duh! Not even Aristotle could argue with that logic

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It’s times that like that I know the kid (at least his appetite) is mine and he makes me proud.

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As I write this, Hurricane Isaac has passed us.  Luckily, we only got hit with the tropical storm winds and rains associated with the outer bands of the tremendous storm that is presently bearing down on the Panhandle of Florida and, ugh, New Orleans.  By the time you read this, I hope the storm has moved over these areas with very little carnage.   Although the storm itself caused very little property damage in our slice of heaven down here in the tropics, we certainly had our share of drama inside Casa de Big Daddy.

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As I’ve mentioned on this blog and in my books ad nauseam, Griffin is obsessed with the weather and terrified of thunderstorms.  That is why he was eerily silent in the week the storm looked to be approaching us.  He also handled our usually wet summer and the early onset of the aforementioned tropical wind and rains over the weekend fairly well.

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Mind you, when I say “fairly well” I mean;

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*Long periods locked in his room with the Weather Channel blaring on his TV and computer and Jimmy Neutron episodes playing on an endless loop on his iTouch,

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*Relatively few (yet manageable) tantrums,

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*With triple head-phoned protection.  (iTouch earbuds covered by Kermit the Frog kiddie headphones, with construction grade Jackhammer ear protection over the contraption.)

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But then it happened.  Last night, around 8:30 PM, after being battered by rain, wind, lighting, and thunder for a day and half, the lights flickered twice and the cable went out for about a half a minute.  Calm and sort-of peaceful Griffin snapped! Like the Hulk, the monster was released and we were treated to hours of the most intense tantruming the boy has given us in over a decade.

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Many parents of kids on the spectrum can probably relate.  When I looked in his eyes, I could not see my boy any longer.  All I saw was a raging 15 year old 170 pound man / boy terrified, crying, screaming, flailing, stomping, rocking and begging for us to go to a hotel.   We’ve survived these before but this was a big one.  Like FEMA and the American Red Cross, we have an emergency protocol we put in place for these types of Griffin Disasters.

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Category One:  We try to get his anti-anxiety meds in him.

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Category Two:  We spend an hour or so trying reason and calming techniques.

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Category Three:  When both those fail, we resort to negative consequences such as telling him he can’t watch TV or surf the web.  If those don’t work, then we pretty much need to find a way to ride it out.  We thought of going to an emergency shelter without him, but decided that would be unfair to the cats and neighbors.

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Category Four: Like Hurricane Andrew 20 years ago, this tantrum made it to a Cat 4. This is when we bring out the last resort.  We ignore him.  We try to pretend that a huge human being is not running around our comfortably lit and air-conditioned house as though his hair was on fire and the Navy Seals 6 Team was storming the exits ready to take him out like a terrorist.

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This, my friends is even harder than it sounds.  Forgetting, for a moment the damage to all our ears and the occassional pinching of our torsos, when you need to go to the refrigerator or bathroom there would be a huge lump of crying autistic boy to be jumped over or maneuvered around.  Whenever there was a moment or two of eerie silence, you’d look up and the boy would be lurking around the corner waiting for anyone to make eye contact with him again so he can descend into madness with an audience.  He quickly turned on his sister – barraging her with a hurricane facts and pleas for her to take him to a hotel.  After patiently and calmly reminding him that she was only 12 and had neither a credit card nor driver’s license about 600 times, Lil Sis too moved into Cat 4 –Ignore Mode.

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Finally, as the real Isaac still raged outside, about 4 or 5 hours into his tantrum, Griffin fell asleep.  This morning he woke up, all smiles as if nothing happened.  That is life with Griffin.  Beautiful tropical weather most of the year with the occasional monster storm thrown in to remind us of what our lives really are.   A roller coaster in the dark.

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