Falling is Like This

Oh, fall. You are so cozy and inviting and yet simultaneously foreboding due to the promise of a cold, dark winter that follows you.

I'm trying to enjoy fall and all the squash-inspired treats it provides. However, I'm also mentally preparing to throw myself into the Christmas spirit because that's the only part of winter that I really enjoy. I figure Christmas carols and peppermint mochas can carry me through the first 4 weeks of winter (not winter according to the calendar, but according to the weather) and then there's a small grace period post-Christmas where the snow is still sparkly and fresh and cuddling up next to the fire is delightful...

Then we descend into the depths of Minnesota winter when the sun vanishes and it actually hurts to go outside. That's when it's time for vacation. This winter promises a family beach vacation. My mom often helps subsidize educational travel for the boys, so I'm trying to justify Mexico as educational since Aidan has started taking Spanish afterschool. That's kinda legit, right? I mean, maybe the trip will inspire him to continue his studies...or at least he'll learn how to order virgin pina coladas.

I don't think we'll be able to take this trip until March, but I figure knowing it's coming will make January and February slightly easier to tolerate. Slightly.

All this impending winter gloom is not being helped by the continuing saga of Owen vs. 3rd grade. When we last left our hero, he had recovered from the school suspension and all the adults had sworn to figure this thing out. Flash forward to last Friday when our hero fell apart in the lunchroom, threw a couple milk cartons, and landed himself back in time out with the principal calling me to take him home.

What is it about 3rd grade that is so different from 2nd? I don't get it and I don't think he knows either, but whatever it is, it's ratcheting his anxiety up higher than we've ever seen. And although he still seems to like school, it would appear that he is just barely holding it together most of the time. And sometimes...he just can't hold it together anymore. It breaks my heart. It shouldn't be this hard for him.

While I think the school staff genuinely would like to find a way to make this stop, their motivations are of the keeping the peace variety vs. a concern for Owen. And so, as it happens when you have children, my husband and I are left having to be experts on things we've never claimed to be experts in: education? autism? anxiety? children?

The only part of this I feel expert in is Owen. And even then, I can't claim to understand the way his brain works well enough to know the solution. I can't read his mind, and that's pretty much what it feels like I'd need to do to get to the bottom of this.

But I can make decisions that put his best interest at the center rather than the policies and procedures of the school. And I can stand up for him when people forget that he's a brilliant little boy who is having a hard time and not a troublemaker. And I can always hold him and remind him to breathe when the world feels like too much. I'd like to believe that all of that combined with some patience, some more research, and the help of a new doctor we're meeting this week will lead us to an answer of some sort, because things can't continue on this way or else we might all have to run away to Mexico permanently.