Dinner, Speculations and a Dose of Reflection

I have some hesitation in writing this particular post. I fear I may be too judgmental of parents or families who have neuro-typical kids. And that I may be contradicting my own mantra of refusing to criticize my neighbor until I have walked a mile in their shoes. But then, when I think about it, when will I really get to walk a mile in their moccasins? Literally? Never. After all we are given different life circumstances and resources to go with it. I can only imagine and speculate what I would do if I were in their situation. Pretty much like everyone else, I think.

What I can do though is to bring out memories of my neuro-typical childhood and upbringing, examine my own values and philosophies borne out of my present circumstances and create a scenario and solution had I been given other parents’ predicament. The predicament I am talking about?

My partner and I were out for dinner last night and beside our table was a family finishing their meal. This was the scenario—the father and another adult, the uncle perhaps and the mother were talking animatedly, exchanging stories, etc. There were three kids—all boys. 2 were most likely in their teens and the youngest probably 9 or 10 years old. The 9 year-old was busy eating his food. The older boys were busy. Busy playing games on the iPhone. Both of them were crouched over, silent and totally engrossed in what they were playing. There was no conversation exchanged. When it was time to go, the father announced a faint, “Let’s go.” The two older boys stood up, but their heads still on their respective iPhones, even while pushing back their chairs. Still no words uttered. Not even a “thank you, Dad or Mom for the dinner.”

Or maybe they said thank you in the car…attention still focused on the game on the cellular phone. Or maybe they didn’t.

I thought to myself when they left the restaurant, “ What a waste of time and money. And the boys! Wow, they have postures of a 90 year old man all hunched over.”
So why this post? I think maybe because these are the times when I imagine myself in the shoes of “normal” parents. And how I imagine it to be! So if you would be so kind to allow me my “musings”.

If I were in their shoes, when I take my children out to dinner, NO PHONES ALLOWED. ONLY TALKING—face to face. What to talk about? ANYTHING! Under the sun. And eating of course—enjoying the flavors of the dish served on the table.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask endless of questions to my kids. If they get annoyed by my constant pestering, I would pester then some more just to elicit a meaningful response so we can have a meaningful conversation.

If I were in their shoes, I would encourage my kids to ask questions. Endless questions. I know some parents complain how they tire out answering their kids’ questions to the point of annoyance. Again, I can only imagine. But maybe if I were in their place, I would stop the barrage of questions only when it is time to sleep. Even if my answers would eventually turn out to be silly, maybe I wouldn’t mind and maybe they wouldn’t mind. I know it would feed their souls as much as it would their intellectual abilities.

If I were in their shoes and the kids ask me why the sky is blue and the sea green, the sun bright yellow, gleaming and glaring and the rain comes pouring out in torrents and why the stars twinkle in the night sky, I would surely answer them to the best of my ability until they are satisfied until the next question pops in their head.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask them how their day went, who’s going out with who, what’s the latest fashion trend or computer game or television show or what’s trending nowadays, What or who’s following, etc... And when they do answer, I would listen, really listen.

If I were in their shoes I would encourage my kids to ask me questions about my life, how I came to be, my parents—their grandparents, how I am the mother they see everyday. I would tell them my story. The stories of their lolos and lolas (Filipino for Grandmother and Grandfather), their ama’s and angkong’s. (Chinese for Grandmother and Grandfather) I would tell them my dreams—accomplished or yet to be realized, lessons learned along the way and experiences that could never be bought or taught in the classroom. Even if they seem to be uninterested, I would make them be interested because there are lessons to be learned and values to be taught.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask my kids “What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you like to do? What are your dreams?” And it would not matter if their answers were silly or not. What would matter to me is that they spoke of their dreams. And they have stories to tell.

If I were in their shoes, there would be hundreds of stories to tell, even thousands. And my kids would hopefully learn to look people in the eye when they speak, confidently and sure of themselves because they are more than what meets the eye. They have stories to tell. Real ones. And they know how to communicate it to the world.

So anyway, enough of my musings. Let me wrap it all up with this—If only I were in their shoes. But I am not. My life is a whole different universe. My boys are worlds apart from theirs. And I am not saying, my boys are any less than theirs intellectually. They’re just differently-abled. But here’s the thing about being different, we live in one and the same world. What I do know is that in our world, to be able to communicate—to speak is essential for survival, and not just to voice out one’s needs for food and water. Because we are social beings, we thrive on relationships. No man is an island. And for relationships to even begin is to learn how to make a good conversation, to tell stories, whether real or fiction. And how do you expect a 14-year old to establish good relationships if half the time, his body posture is crouched over a gadget? They are able to speak. Let them speak, even if it would annoy you to bits. I know I would. If only I were in your shoes.

Over and above all my speculations of what I would do if I were to walk a mile in other “normal” parents’ moccasins, I have come to accept that Autism has given my kids a language of their own. A language that goes far beyond words and semantics. A language that speaks volumes louder than words. I have learned to see the beauty of it. But most of the times, it creates hard challenges for us parents, and most especially for our boys as they strive to live in our world…as you can only speculate and imagine as well. This is why for them to even utter a single word is absolute heaven for us. This is why if I were in your place—parents with “normal” kids, I would be grateful every single minute that my kids can speak… and not only a single word, they can speak stories, volumes and volumes of stories that emanates from their heart, minds and souls.

So maybe, when the times come when your kids pester you relentlessly with their questions, and you get annoyed, maybe what you can do is to imagine yourself in my shoes and in the shoes of all the Autism parents out there and to speculate what you would do if you were to walk a mile in our moccasins. Maybe then, this time, you would react differently to your kids. Maybe you would realize how blessed you are to have kids who can express their thoughts, feelings and emotions in a clear understandable manner. And maybe then, your kids will be able to set aside the iphone for a dose of good conversation with you. Maybe they will have better postures this time around, sitting straight and relaxed looking people in the eye. Maybe this time when you eat out, the bill you pay for dinner and time spent with your kids will be well worth it.

My Birthday Story

So this is how my birthday went...I woke up at 5 a.m. betcha I was sooo excited! Then Papa and I went to our Koi Pond and fed my 5 Koi -- Pinky, Spot, Dot, Red and Orange and Spar our freshwater hammerhead shark, then had breakfast with Mama Bea at 7 a.m. At 9:00 a.m. we went to Tita Tiny's shop to get my balloons, my wonderful, colorful balloons, then brought it to the Sped Center where I helped my teachers Pol, Prinzer and Loize decorate the place. Or rather I jumped up and down with glee while they put the balloons on the walls and windows. By the time we were done, I was all sweaty. Then we went to Lola at the office, had everyone greet me a happy birthday and we went to buy my little brother's favorite mushroom bread. Finally, we went home for lunch. At 1:15, I got dressed with my pogi (handsome) polo and shorts. Mama and I went to the center for my birthday party!!!! We had games and oh how so much fun!!! I loved my cake so much I couldn't decide which I liked better-- the truck on top of the cake, the chocolate flavor of the cake or the flickering light of my candle number 7. I think I liked the candle better. Then I blew the candle. Only maybe I forgot to make a wish. Uh-oh, but no matter, I had a great time! When we finally went home I played at our Koi pond again. After 30 minutes, Morgan finally woke up from his afternoon nap-- you guessed it ,as usual he was absent from my party. :-D...But it was okay. I understand Morgan still needs his afternoon nap. I was like that too when I was his age....Anyway later after dinner, I ate my cake and had icing all over my face! What time did I finally sleep? 1030 p.m. Whew what an exciting day!!!!!! Thank you God for making my birthday a very happy one. :-)

In Loving Memory

Morgan was fussing about a very leafy plant of one of the tombstones and I was cajoling him to begin our exercise. Bianca, our chocolate dobe, Garret and Andro were already starting the usual rounds of walking when I noticed a girl dressed in a pretty dainty white dress and wearing a medal around her neck. Her brother snapped photos of her while she posed happily. The rest of the family gathered around a tombstone talking quietly. I  figured maybe this family came from the little girl’s graduation ceremony and decided to visit a loved one.

This is what I love about our Asian culture. Strong family ties-- the closeness that goes beyond death. I don’t really know the real story of the little girl’s family I observed earlier but what I could sense strongly was how they wanted the loved one who passed away to share in their joy and pride. Don’t we all?

Tomorrow is the big day. Garret will turn 7. Although among the Chinese, Garret will be turning 8 tomorrow. A child’s first birthday is counted as his 2nd year. When you think about it, it is actually seeing life with a forward thinking kind of perspective—a certain optimism to it. It is like saying, “Today starts my 32nd year of life.” Or in Garret’s case, tomorrow will be the beginning of day 1 of his 8th year in this world.

I digress. So we were at the memorial park visiting my father-in-law’s grave, Papa Ching and doing our usual exercise with our boys and our dog. Andro and I often say things like, “If Papa Ching were alive, I think he would never get enough of the boys. Maybe we won’t even get to see them because probably he would insist in having the boys over at their house all the time.” And I would add, “ Well, if my Papa Suy An were alive, the boys would already have been brought to the Chinese temple and hundreds of incense sticks would have been lighted for them for good fortune and to ward away unkind spirits.” We both badly wish how our fathers have been alive to see our boys, their faces, their healthy and robust bodies, their naughtiness, their achievements, and their uniqueness, their vibrant personalities. We imagine many times how much their faces could have beamed with joy everyday in seeing their grandchildren up and about their business of just being who they are—Garret being delighted like crazy over our newly built koi pond, thanks to his papa and Morgan with his constant skeptical look framed in his eternally knit eyebrows and pouty mouth. And tomorrow will just be one of those days. I wish Papa Suy An were here to see his prince of a grandchild turn 7 years old, or rather starting day 1 of his 8th year of life. I wish he was here alive right now. I wish it so badly sometimes it hurts.

Maybe love is really like that. When you love a person so badly, even if they pass on, the celebrations you have in this lifetime will never be truly complete without their presence, or at least without making them a part of your triumphs and joy in whatever way. That’s how family is to us-- thriving on a love that is so much stronger than death. So I truly understand the scenario I witnessed this afternoon of the little girl with the white dress and medal and her family. We have our own kind of graduation. Not the typical one with the medals and ribbons and certificates and all. But something definitely worth celebrating, not just during this time of the year, but all year-round—good health, great job going to school and therapy without complaining, doing tasks with little verbal or physical cues, understanding 2-step instructions, humming nursery rhymes in perfect tune, plunking piano keys to the tune of Old McDonald, butterfly kisses and tightest possible hugs with eyes crinkly, Chinese-y, learning to be independent, brushing own teeth, dressing oneself, carrying one’s bag, learning to cope even when mama is not around. All these things are worth celebrating. Every little milestone is a graduation in itself. And every single day, how we badly wish Papa Ching and Papa Suy An were here to witness it all with their own eyes. So in our own way, we make them a part of our everyday celebration, our everyday graduation.

They say we channel our loved ones’ character traits, mannerisms, philosophies and values when we miss them the most or to keep their memory alive so that it may seem like they are still right here with us. They say children are an extension of oneself, grandchildren all the more what with the third generation theory that the “lolos” and “lolas” (grandparents) are seemingly replicated among the “apos” (grandchildren). Morgan has this trait where he examines and observes all things before accepting it as worth his time. He has a mind of his own, a plan of his own all mapped out in his head. Garret is so easy to please, more compliant and more flexible than his kingly of a brother. When I ask Morgan for a kiss, he will kiss me only 3 times full on the lips, no more and no less. When I ask Garret for a kiss, he willingly gives his chubby cheeks or cute lips all the time. While Morgan has physical features that resemble Papa Ching, save for his light complexion and his eyes that disappear when he grins, Garret has ears that stick out like his beloved Chinese grandpa.

So what do we know? Papa Ching and Papa Suy An are here, right here beside us after all. They are seeing with their own eyes our beautiful boys’ life. They are witnessing our boys’ graduation every single day. They are both celebrating with us everyday.

The term “commencement exercises” that is always used in graduation ceremonies spelled out in Styrofoam cutouts embossed on every graduate’s stage backdrop means the beginning, to start anew. New possibilities. Optimism. Forward thinking. And coincidentally, as I am proudly 75 % Chinese, today, I choose to channel my father’s philosophy—Garret begins his first day of his eight year in this life tomorrow. I am ready for wonderful possibilities for him. I anticipate only amazing things he can achieve. I am optimistic that I will carry on. I will be strong for my little Prince and Feisty King. I will not let myself be easily discouraged or frustrated when people judge or criticize me. For every problem that is presented to me, I will look beyond the fingers and focus on the solution. And I will choose compassion, kindness and love above all things.

Whoever said parenting ends when life draws its final breath? I refute this. Apparently my papa is still teaching me, parenting me, loving me through his most potent channels of life and love, his grandchildren—Garret and Morgan. Papa Suy An is right here beside me. Right here in my heart. I must dare not forget this fact.

Thank you Papa Suy An for showing me what life is really all about—Compassion, Kindness and Love. And in what better way to show me all these three values than in the persons of your grandchildren, Garret and Morgan.

I miss you every single day, Papa. With all my heart, I love you with all my heart. And forever until I draw my last breath, I will always be your princess.