About JulieJordanScott
Member Since:
August 27, 2008
Last Signed In:
January 1, 1970
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What I Did on Summer Vacation
If I was still in school and asked to write my version of the infamous, “What I did this Summer” my most stunning accomplishment would be “Teaching my son with autism to expect the unexpected and not to depend solely on his routines and rituals for comfort.”
This is the anti-thesis of parenting a child with autism, right? We are supposed to make everything easy for them. I read articles by experts, outlining how to create a successful family vacation and almost none of it was relevant for me.
“Stay in the same hotel chain so the child knows what to expect from night to night.”
We were primarily couchsurfing on our adventures in travel this Summer, which meant we would be staying with a hearty eclectic blend of people and our accommodations being everything from an air mattress in the basement (which he loved, by the way) to an attic hideaway.
“Eat in familiar restaurants so your child can have the same food he is accustomed to eating.”
We did the familiar restaurants usually once a day, while driving, otherwise Sam needed to learn to eat at least something that was presented to him. We had snacks in the car, but I wanted him to stretch. He ate or he didn’t eat much and I chose not to stress. He tried new foods and our hosts worked very hard to accommodate him.
When we got home, the journey continued, even yesterday.
I have been art journaling and Samuel has been helping me here and there, spreading modge podge on finished pages primarily.
Yesterday I was starting a new page based on Margaret Atwood’s poem. “You Begin Like This”. To make the background, I plopped some white paint and some red paint on my prepared journal pages of ephemera and gesso.
I started spreading the red and white paint, eventually meeting them in the center so much of the page was a deep, highly satisfying to me pink.
Sam was sitting at the table with me and I handed him my paintbrush, “Here, your turn.”
I gave him no instructions beyond handing him the paintbrush.
He took it, unquestioning, and started moving the paint in straight lines. I noticed he was focusing on eliminating the red and the white and filling the page with straight, just-right pink.
I did some chores in the kitchen and waited until he looked satisfied with his artistic progress.
“Excellent,” I commented and took the brush away. “Now let’s add some contrast.”
I picked up a coffee filter and put another blob of red paint in the corner. I made the round coffee filter into a sort of finger mitten and dabbed the red paint in the corner so it looked mottled and pretty against the pink.
I did the same with white paint in the alternative corner.
I handed Samuel the now wet, messy, red and white covered coffee filter for him to use as a painting mitten. He took it and became an instant – oversized – pointillist painter.
He didn’t know what my intent was, but it was to show him and let him prove to himself he doesn’t need to paint only in straight lines. I wanted him to increase his comfort in getting messy and not knowing exactly what would show up on the page when he did it.
This, I thought, was a fine example of “You begin like this” – you begin to let your child grow, like this. You stop talking and model. You believe they can do it and suddenly they can. You don’t expect meltdowns, you expect creativity.
This Summer wasn’t problem free and it was growth inducing without an abundance of struggle and tears. Growth came from exploration, anticipating adventure and stepping into the present moment instead of being worried about what comes next.
Samuel has forever memories of fantastic places of his dreams: Springfield, Oregon – famous for “The Simpsons”, video-taping at Mt. Rushmore and participating just like all the other kids in the demonstration at the national park and making an instant-“he-gets-me!” friend in Vancouver, Washington, where Lego building inspired Sam’s dreams further.
This Summer, Samuel and I learned that when your only intention is to expect the unexpected, you also open yourself to an infinite number of delightful experiences. All of a sudden the label “autistic spectrum” stops mattering so much.
He is quirky and loveable and he is on the autistic spectrum. Mostly he is just Samuel. My precious little boy.