Simply Colette

I don’t usually expose a lot of Dan’s traits in writing. It’s his story. I just happen to be his mom. Lucky and blessed to be his mom, rather. He’s been “quirky” since early on. Noises bothered him, different textures annoyed him, obsessive thoughts consumed him (and us.) I knew he was on the autistic spectrum before I really even knew much about “the spectrum.” 

It’s taken years for me to really grasp that it’s not the Plague. It’s a different operating system for the brain. 

Vacations have always been a bit stressful. No, A LOT stressful. He had to know exactly where we were going. Constantly worried about where the gauge was on the fuel indicator. “Those are driver worries, not passenger worries” I’d tell him. Not that it would help. “Do you know where we are going? What if we get lost? Do you have a map? Please don’t tell me you’ve never been here before.” These weren’t fleeting thoughts, they were gut-wrenching, fear-driven concerns.

Dogs. Terrified of dogs. We couldn’t walk past a dog. Not even a gentle dog on a leash. Dan would immediately tense up, color disappear from his face.

I’d be on edge walking through busy areas and touristy downtown streets. I couldn’t be out of his sight. He’d worried that I was going to disappear. Or he would be so lost in his own world that he wouldn’t notice stop signs or cross walks. Yeah, the stuff mom nightmares are made of.

He’s gone through many phases. We adapt, we play along. We constantly try to point out what’s “appropriate” behavior and what’s not. All while trying to embrace his uniqueness and trying not to suck the fun and personality out of this unique guy. He likes to tap people on the head. Why? I have no clue. He likes to sit under tables. Why? Again, if I only had the answers. He thinks it would be really great to dump pop or water on your head. As my husband and I try to make sure he can function in society, we tell him that’s not typical adult behavior, and he IS technically an adult. I’ve resorted to telling him he has to respect people’s personal space. If he asks and they don’t mind an occasional head tap, so be it. (He hasn’t found anyone that has agreed to having a cold beverage dumped on their head, though. At least not YET.) And last, but not to least, every conversation you might possibly find yourself engaged in with him, will start or end with facts about the Titanic. Those facts may even be sprinkled throughout the entire dialogue.

Our traveling companion is often my mom. Every summer she, Dan and I go away for a few days. He loves rock hunting so we often venture off to some of Michigan’s plentiful rocky beaches. We each go our own way along the shoreline, quietly sifting through nature’s treasures, each of us picking those that meet our own personal definition of special or unique.

We relax at the hotel pool, a family from Turkey occupying the same small poolside section as us. The 18 year old Turkish boy strikes up a conversation with Dan, telling him he’s going to attend U of M this fall. Dan looks at him and asks if he likes to sit under tables. “No, I don’t think I ever have but I bet I know why you do.” Dan asks, “you do?” “Yeah, I think I do. I know the world is sometimes overwhelming, I bet it feels good to be under a table sometimes, maybe safe and like you have your own space?” I’m absolutely delighted with the insightfulness of the young man. “Yeah, I guess” answers Dan, as he scurries over to the boy’s dad to inquire about his age. “You look about the age of my dad, he’s 62.” The gentleman tells him he’s pretty close, as he is 64.” We have had many a talk about not asking people’s age, weight or annual income. He can never seem to find that filter when he needs it.

We head to the coffee shop where a man, likely around 25, is sitting outside at a table. His laptop in place as he intently works on some project. Dan politely approaches him (something he is finally getting more comfortable doing.) I sit back and observe, he’s got this, right? He can socialize without me intervening. “Hey, what are you working on?” I’m proud, that’s acceptable, after all. The guy starts explaining his task at hand. Dan grins (uh-oh, I thought….it’s coming.) “Can I throw a rock at your computer??” Silence. The guy eeks out a grin. “Ya, sure.” Dan exclaims, “Really?? Such glee in his voice. “But you’ll have to buy me a new one.” Dan says, “oh, man!!” They both laugh. Dan returns to his seat to finish his cookie and Mango smoothie. He only likes smoothies with Mango, you know. Bananas have a weird texture.

Off to the harbor, it’s a beautiful hot, sunny day. We walk along the docks, marveling at the fortune docked at that marina. We spot a huge yacht. I can see Dan’s wheels spinning. He can’t get over there fast enough to get a closer look. The owner is on the deck. “I like your boat. Do you live on that thing?” “Sometimes! Every summer we take it to Nova Scotia.” His response is smug, he isn’t really giving Dan eye contact as he hoses off the deck. “How much did that thing cost??” “I don’t remember.” “What?? You don’t remember?? What kind of answer is that, you’re not gonna forget how much you paid for something like that.” My face is red. The man responds, “well, we don’t talk about that.” Fair enough, I thought. After all, life is a good teacher. Dan asks enough of these questions to the wrong people, it will sink in, right??

We continue to venture around, we wander downtown, where dozens of people seem to have a dog on a leash with them. I notice for the first time that Dan isn’t panicking. He is acting as if they aren’t even there. He is comfortable. He is walking several paces ahead of us. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that I’m not right on his heels. And we he got to the corner, he stopped. These things are huge. These are milestones that most kids reach a decade or more sooner. My heart is smiling.

In the car, his headphones are on covering his ears as they always do. Drowning out the outside world, he retreats to the music and thoughts that entertain him. With every stop we make, he interacts in some small way with someone. I observe from the sidelines. He struggles to resist asking restaurant waiters if he can toss the salt shaker into the nearby water and stuff like that. Thank goodness we encountered many people that took his odd requests lightly and even joked back with him a bit.

On our long trip home, he educated my mom and I on so many things. He sounded like a college professor telling us about the planets, different countries, leaders, kings and queens, plagues that have existed once up a time. He is a sponge for facts. We are in a awe. My mom questions him as to why, with all of his intelligence, does he chooses to ask people if he can dump something on their head. “I don’t know, it’s more fun.” We stop at a small rural gas station, he hurries in before us. We enter just in time to hear him ask the young attendant how old she is (19) and why she is there by herself so late at night. Then he asks if he can go behind the counter. She says, “no…nobody but our workers can come back here.” He grins, “well, I wouldn’t hurt anybody. I don’t even own a jack knife.” We all busted in to laughter. She said, “well that’s good.” She lit up and enjoyed his humor.

We finished the rest of our journey home, Dan as calm and content as I have seen him. “I have so much energy locked up, I feel I could run home,” he tells me. His trampoline is the first thing he seeks out when we open the door. I tell him what a great trip it was. “Do you think I am weird?” Puzzled by that question, I ask him why he would ask me that. “Because I ask people unusual things and I sometimes sit under tables.” “Nah, unique, interesting, peculiar maybe.” He smirks. He’s good with that. So am I.

I was going to be a writer, you know. I studied Journalism in college. I also had aspirations to own a Bed and Breakfast. I yearned to own a cookie shop. I also thought (still think) I’d make a great detective. No one would like to solve a murder more than me. And you want to know if your significant other is cheating? I could find out. I have skills. I also dabbled with photography but decided I didn’t want to turn a hobby into a job, because, well……then it’s not a hobby. It’s a job. Now I have dreams of being a barista. LOL. Let’s face it. I’ve spent my entire 27 year career dreaming of being something other than what I am. A nurse. I mean, really….it’s nothing like they portray on T.V. There’s not one glamorous thing about this gig. And it’s certainly not about the money, because, well—-you know.

Today I got to lead by example to a young nurse. Actually, they all seem young these days. They can whip through that electronic charting like nobody’s business. They never had the task of dotting every i and crossing every t with paper charting. I am proud of the fact I’ve survived at this for as long as I have, and maybe have a thing or two to of useful wisdom to pass on to the next round of nurses.

I have made the very best of friends through my ongoing journey as a nurse. Nursing school introduced me to some the most influential friends I’ve had in my entire life. I hold them dear to this very day. Nurses get it. They have your back. They laugh at you. To your face. They laugh with you. They cry with you if need be. There’s no bodily function or body fluid that intimidates them. They have thick skin. Who else can get yelled at by patients, told off by family members, and so on. And still come back the next day….smile on. Ready to start over and nurture people back to health.

Many patients, family and coworkers have touched my life over the years. Most recently I wheeled a very demanding patient out to the front door to see her off. She had some challenges that put us all through the ringer. I’d be lying if I said we all weren’t ready for her to go home. She looked at me with a tear and said, “thanks for taking care of me, I’m gonna miss you.” She waved as I walked away and I felt a lump in my throat. I guess that’s why I keep doing what I do.

For all the days I come home thinking I’d like to hang up my nursing uniform for good…..I get gentle reminders that the things we do Do make a difference. To all my fellow nurses and those that have already retired…..thanks for doing what you do. Thanks for teaching and guiding ME along the way. I guess I’ll get my writing fix through this blog. I’m guessing the Bed and Breakfast wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, especially since my husband gently reminds me that in order to have a bed and breakfast you have to be up early enough to actually serve breakfast, and that’s a good point. Soooo not me. I will keep snapping pics and solving crimes in my own head, and making cookies to eat and share with friends. I’m holding on to the Barista idea…just in case. But something tells me I’m gonna keep doing what I was probably made to do.

Happy Nurses Week!

“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?” Dan, sitting in the car next to me, belting out his least favorite song lyrics. “Pink Floyd songs creep me out.” I glance at him, headphones resting around his neck, giving him the ability to immediately tune out the world (specifically me) if he feels the need. I think of the many times we’ve listened to music together over the years. It’s something that has connected us on both fun and meaningful levels. We love music. We share similar taste in music. We can disconnect from our worries, as we recognize that we both battle anxiety and share a tendency to worry excessively about things out of our control.

Starting when was just a little boy, he found great comfort in music. We would jump in the car on a moments notice and take rides, sometimes as far as Mackinaw City, listening to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” on repeat. I cherish those days. My eyes well up with tears as I think of him graduating from high school in just a few short weeks. I wonder how the time flew by as it did. I’ve wrapped the last 18 + years of my life around him. We’ve been thicker than thieves. I think I am more worried about how I will face this milestone than how he will.

He’s young, he’s adaptable, He’s smart. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. And we’ve learned a lot of good lessons through the songs we’ve listened to together over the years. In the words of one of our personal faves, Tom Petty, “Most things I worry about never happen anyway.”

We pull in the garage after a quick shopping trip. A small segment of “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas comes on. Dan promptly brings it to my attention, telling me we can’t go in yet….”these are your favorite lyrics, mom” …”All your money won’t another minute buy.” I put the car in reverse and we go for a short drive to hear the song in its entirety. No truer words have ever been written.

It’s been a while since we went to have lunch with Norb’s mom. We walked into her home filled with the smell of turkey and homemade gravy, to find her buzzing around, apron on. Her typical meal of meat, potatoes, cooked carrots and cucumbers making their way to the properly set table. Fruit with pudding for dessert. You always end a meal with a little something sweet, you know.

I don’t visit her as often as I probably should, especially since she lives just a few miles away. I will probably regret it one day. She’s 88 and as active as ever. Still makes three meals a day and does all her own housework, gets together with friends and plays board games, cards and avidly reads. “I gotta keep my mind sharp.”

We are so very different. We come from different times and different backgrounds. Her upbringing in Germany during WWII was so much different than mine here in the privileged USA. She knows what it’s like to lose everything. Family, friends, money, food, everything. She knows how to stretch a dime further than anyone I know. She can make a meal from the fewest, simplest ingredients. And make clothes from a spool of thread and apiece of fabric.

She will save most of her money but never let anyone go hungry or without something they need. Her home is simple. She doesn’t decorate to impress, she simply puts out things she likes and has things that are functional, not beautiful. She never replaces something just to replace it. She could shop from fine stores, but chooses to shop at second hand shops. She lit up when she proudly revealed to me the purchase she recently splurged on. A pound of ground coffee. “Fancy” coffee, she told me. It even has her beloved home of Germany on the label. She paid 5 bucks for it. And not only that, “I bought 5 of them!!” “Three for me and two for gifts.”

Her life story is so interesting. She has every reason to have lost faith in humanity and this crazy world we are living in. But she hasn’t. It’s only made her stronger. Aside from the fact that our lifestyles, budgeting and parenting are vastly different. We share a deep love for her oldest son and her only grandson. And though I know I wouldn’t be her first choice for a daughter-in-law. I do know she loves me. And I love her.

As we leave to head home, Norb kisses his mom and thanks her for the lovely lunch. He winks at me, knowing that is the only “real” meal he’s getting today. I peck her on the cheek and tell her I’m going home to plan the dinner menu for tonite. “Oh???” She says. “Yep, I’m thinking a choice of Cheerios, Rice Chex, or Corn flakes. Maybe a banana to mix in.” She grinned and said, “Cereal is just enough. And you shouldn’t eat after 7 pm, it makes your belly fat.”

Another Hallmark holiday in the books. You either love it or hate it. But I think it’s a great time to reflect on those that we love. Besides, who doesn’t want to break up the dead of winter with roses and hearts in various shades of reds and pinks??

Norb and I exchanged cards and he spent the morning doing snow clean up outside for us and our neighbors. I took him some fresh coffee in this precious heart cup, just to go with the theme of the day.

This afternoon, we had our dear friends over and shared snacks and drinks. And lots of laughs. It’s a great reminder to love and cherish the people in your life that bring you joy and happiness. After all, they are just on loan to us for a time. Life is short….fuss over people. And always fuss over yourself!!!

Welcome to my blog! I am super excited to be using this format as a creative outlet. I look forward to connecting with others and sharing thoughts, ideas, photos, food obsessions, decorating ideas, and just random stuff.