Collateral Blessings

(Or How to Turn Crappy Days into Gratitude Days)

I came home with a rare social high from back-to-back outings recently. Truth is, it has been a long time since I did anything for myself and by myself that did not have anything to do with household chores and management.

The other Friday, I had gone to a very informative, whole-day baking class under Ms. Beng Legaspi. I learned loads about the science and art of gluten-free/sugar-free baking and picked up tips and tricks that can come only from years of research and experience. I also made new “Baking Mama” friends, some of whom were already pros in the kitchen.

With my “classmates” (Photo credit: Ms. Jan Rubi)

Our class photo (Photo credit: Ms. Beng Legaspi)

Then the next day, a Saturday, I attended a Sylvanian Families Christmas Party luncheon hosted by Sylvanian Families Collectors PH. I was reunited with old collector friends, Analyn and Ledz, both of whom I haven’t seen in years. I also met new collector friends, some of whom I have only seen in Facebook. I’m grateful and honoured to be friends with Rose and Robert, one of my favourite couples in the world, and with Joann, Nenette, Blair, Christine, Mely, and many others who welcomed this old Sylvanian junkie with open arms!

Sylvanian Families Collectors PH is ❤️

As you can already tell, I have been home bound for much of these past few months, taking care of Alphonse and nursing my knee injuries, that days out for myself and with friends have definitely been rare and far-in-between. A❤️, bless his kind heart, gave me the time to enjoy these events by taking over Alphonse’s care for those days. Alex, my eldest, pitched in to help, forgoing sleep to sub for his dad when A❤️ needed to do something else.

And then disaster struck.

Within an hour of my return home that Saturday, Alphonse had a meltdown that ended with Christmas ham and gluten-free chocolate cake samplers being smooshed all over my head. My short absence, coupled with the unexpected visit of relatives that day, had set him on edge, making him anxious and irritable. Even after that episode ended, when he would have otherwise been able to shrug off his nervous energy, he never lost his angry snarls and discomfiting whines. He was rigid, obsessive, and controlling, barking his often unintelligible demands one after the other the rest of the day.

To illustrate:

“Heh!” Alphonse shouts loudly to his dad. Translation: “Don’t move your leg, Papa!” A❤️ moves his leg slowly to return to an “acceptable” position.

“Heh!” Alphonse shouts again, this time at me. Translation: “Touch your glasses twice, Mama!” I nudge my glasses down my nose and up again.

“Heh!” Alphonse directs his bossiness at his brother. Translation: “Go back the house again!” Alex steps inside the house and steps back out, doing this twice, to complete a ritual that exists only in Alphonse’s head.

By early evening, we were all exhausted and impatient for the day to end. Our nerves were frayed, and we felt beaten. In the last few weeks, we had been hopeful that we had found a good formula of routine, play, and exercise to keep his bad days to a minimum. Saturday was a sudden turnaround to the progress we had been making. As is often the case with our journey with autism, when we take one step forward, we wind up taking two steps back again.

The following days turned out to be more of the same, angry, dark days that got worse at each transition point. Somehow, we found the strength to stand up and carry through each day, pacifying, calming, and working with Alphonse to dispel his anxieties.

But something worth telling happened to me that Saturday. While Alphonse had my head in a wrestling hold, his fingers alternately pulling out strands of my hair and massaging as much cake and ham as possible to my curly ‘do, I felt an unexpected wave of calm wash over me. It was weird because I suddenly felt disconnected from myself. At that moment, it dawned on me that even in that lock hold, there were still things I was in control of. I could choose to wallow in the sorrow of the occasion, or I could choose to be grateful. I had a choice.

With that, I quit struggling under Alphonse’s strong hands. My breathing slowed down. Instead of pulling away, I pushed nearer him and quietly stroked his hands. And then, I began to list all the things I could think of, making mental notes of each one and giving thanks in a silent prayer.

It started with this epiphany: Hey, my head didn’t hurt as much! It seems that short hair, even when pulled with all the strength of a vigorous, severely autistic, young man, doesn’t give in as easily as long hair does. I had rued the loss of my locks for a time but ultimately, I was grateful that Rose, my longtime hairdresser friend, had given me my (fat) pixie look.

Next, Ms. Beng’s gluten-free and sugar-free chocolate cake did not only taste good, it felt really soothing on my scalp too! Who’d have thought that was possible?

Also, Alphonse may have been raging with fury, but some semblance of restraint kicked in that day. The old Alphonse would’ve fought us off till he was spent of all his anger. His next move was patented: he would’ve kicked me in the chest even as he pulled down my hair. Yes, Alphonse would’ve wrought maximum damage easily had he wanted to. Saturday, however, despite his shouts of protests, he listened and backed down. Thank God for that!

Then too, and most important of all, A❤️ and Alex relieved me of the burden of Alphonse’s care until I could change and wash my hair. True, for a while, I did give in to tears, more from disappointment than from pain, but when my boys’ consoling arms enveloped me in a family hug, I was able to wipe my eyes dry again and feign a smile till it became real.

The way I see it, there will always be unintended, unintentional damage when it comes to dealing with profound autism. We get hurt, physically and emotionally. God knows how many cuts, bruises, bites, and wounds we’ve had to endure over the years. We get frustrated and disappointed. We become angry and afraid. We are, after all, human.

But if there’s one thing we’ve learned through the years, however, it is this: that autism, despite its many difficulties, also has its fair share of goodness – what I’d like to think of as collateral blessings.

Because of autism- and Alphonse- we discovered our personal strengths. We learned to roll with the punches and to shrug off episodes of sorrow and anger as just “blips” to a normal day. We learned to live with hope and optimism always, even when things look bleak and dreary. We honed our ability to laugh and celebrate even when we are hurt and in pain.

We found within ourselves a fount of complete forgiveness – one that comes easily and bears no ill will or grudges. This process goes both ways, as we have sometimes also inadvertently wronged Alphonse in our lack of understanding of his needs. We learned to live each day with overwhelming gratitude that springs from rare moments of peace and joy. Perhaps, best of all, we are able to recall and summon love- at will- even in the midst of horrible, debilitating despair.

Life with autism is often wearisome and difficult. But Love, we’ve learned, is not.

These are the blessings that sustain us each day.

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Back to the Blog

I have to start today’s entry with an apology. I’m sorry for my absence. My blog went into hiatus these last few months and I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been gone without updating, not until I looked at the calendar today. I had not planned on staying away too long but time got away from me as I grappled with a series of health crises that came one after the other.

I was bedridden for most of May and June, and save for a few rare days here and there, I hardly left the house. Aside from the physical symptoms that caused a pervading sense of discomfort, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I wasn’t sleeping well, ehrm, let me rewrite that to say that I wasn’t sleeping at all most nights.  During the day, however, I couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed.

The responsibilities of 24/7 care for a profoundly disabled young adult weighed heavily on our shoulders. When I got sick, my husband took over Alphonse’s care, allowing me to rest, recover, and work at my own pace. I did try to catch up with many of my chores, except that I got too winded easily. Without additional help, all three of us — my husband, my eldest son, and I — were often run ragged and tired to the bone.

And then in mid-August, I had a pretty bad accident. In the middle of a busy rainy afternoon, while cleaning the schoolhouse bathroom, I slipped and slammed my back and knees into the cold hard tiles. That was a doozy. Ouch.

I was able to cushion my head with my arms but I hit my right knee by the side of the toilet bowl. My lower back made direct contact with the slippery floor. I couldn’t stand up at all as my back and knees screamed in pain.

From the bathroom door, I saw Alphonse outside the schoolhouse and playing on his basin of water. Alone with him (my husband was somewhere else in the house and Alex was with his friends that day), I called out his name and asked for his help.

“ALPHONSE! Alphonse! Please help Mama!” I shouted myself hoarse as the sound of heavy rain drowned my sobbing.

After a few tries, I saw Alphonse turn his head and look at me with a sideway glance.

“Alphonse, please help Mama!” I waved a shaky hand at him as I struggled to keep myself upright with the other hand.

Alphonse looked at me again… and waved back.

“Alphonse, help,” I tried again, giving in to loud crying. Sitting there in the wet, slippery floor of the bathroom, I realized that Alphonse was oblivious to my pain. His innocence and inability to understand social cues or comprehend risks and dangers made him unaware that I needed help.

“Mamam,” Alphonse muttered loudly. “Yu!” he shouted, the crescendo of his tremulous baritone merging with the pitter-patter of rain.

Mama, I love you. That was what he was trying to say.

“I love you too, baby,” I thought to myself, crying even harder this time. The idea that something worse could have happened and Alphonse would be unable to help anyone, not even himself, sent me into more fits of sobbing. When I think about it now, I still can’t decide if I was crying for Alphonse or for myself.

A few minutes later, my husband found me, drenched wet and hysterical. Alphonse went about his playing, glancing every now and then, smiling at us and shrieking happily.

My knees are still sore and painful today; I hobble around like an old lady in knee supports and cane. While the right knee received the brunt of my accident, my left knee is slowly giving in from the burden of walking and climbing. The orthopedist has recommended a regimen of treatment to alleviate the pain and increase mobility but I am unable to complete treatment as of today. Not only is the cost prohibitive, we also struggle with finding manpower to help with Alphonse, even just temporarily.

Between living with the constant pain and trying to find a semblance of normalcy to our days, I am hard pressed to find time to sit down and write. The pain has robbed me of my peace, truth to tell, and the struggle to give Alphonse the consistency of routine and predictability has fallen completely on my husband’s and son’s shoulders. I worry for them too, as they help carry my share of the load without complaints.

Still, today is a new day. Today, I found the will, and energy, and desire to write and keep writing. Maybe if I keep writing, I can forget about my worries and fears and allow myself some joy. For now, I will hobble along and try to keep up.

I’m just grateful to be here again, old friends.

Zero-Waste Journey: Alphonse’s Cup

One of the goals I’ve set for my family this year is to transition to a zero-waste lifestyle. I joined a couple of groups on Facebook that teach beginners how to do it, and they all suggest starting with little steps at first till it becomes a completely doable lifestyle. It seems easy and simple enough, that is, until I consider some of the challenges that come in a household with autism. I don’t want to give up on this easily so I’ve been hard pressed to look for solutions.

Case in point:

My son Alphonse, a young man with autism, is a ripper, shredder, and smasher. He has been all his life. Over the years, we’ve tried to redirect his destructive interests into other areas, with little success.

Aside from ripping (paper and clothing), shredding (paper, clothing, and plastic), and smashing (everything else), he also loves to bite and chew into things. As he grew in strength and size, we’ve had to abandon the use of glass in our home as even dinnerware touted to be “unbreakable” have been shattered to smithereens. We have used stainless steel, melamine, and plastic dinner and service ware to keep him safe but he has started biting into them too. Last year, he ended up with several cuts on his lips and tongue. Today, he nurses a recurring wound on the bridge of his nose, the result of pressing deeply the roughened rims of our drinking glasses on his face as he drinks.

There’s that wound on his face, see it?

Recently, we’ve had to limit and/or abandon the use of these materials because of his tendency for self-injury. While we looked for replacements, we used disposable paper and plastic cups for him but I felt really guilty each time he shredded them after a single use. We wanted to keep Alphonse safe but we were creating more trash to do it, and this thought nagged at me constantly. Sadly, our local malls didn’t have much to offer by way of alternatives but the through the Internet, I discovered silicone drinking glasses. Finally!

Yes, I love silicone! It’s handy, flexible, and Alphonse-proof. It’s also soft enough not to cause injury to Alphonse’s face and mouth. Moreover, silicone doesn’t make alarming clanging noises when dropped accidentally or thrown intentionally, which is what usually happens with Alphonse around.

Still, not all silicone drinking glasses are made equal. The first set we bought was a set of four Brovino wine glasses purchased from Amazon. We loved that these glasses could withstand Alphonse’s constant biting and throwing. They weren’t quite stable enough, though, tipping quite readily when bumped accidentally. Then too, learning to hold them properly was a process as the contents spilled easily if our grip was too hard. So even as we used these, we kept looking for other glasses to replace them.

A few weeks ago, I discovered a different kind of silicone glass. Supported by an embedded stainless steel frame inside, the cups were said to be kid-friendly, microwaveable, dishwasher safe, plus they didn’t collapse when gripped. The Silikids Siliskin silicone cups were available locally through an official distributor so we didn’t have to worry about international shipping and taxes. Their prices were also very reasonable; a two-pack goes for PhP700 when it retails USD12.95 in the Silikids.com website. At the time of purchase, only 8-oz kid-sized cups were available. We loved the cups instantly despite their size (we like big drinks so we needed refills right away) because true to their word, they were very easy to use. Unlike our first set of silicone glasses, these were quite firm and stable and didn’t tip over when bumped. However, less than three weeks from purchase, Alphonse’s constant biting created cracks in the rim. A few days later, he peeled off a piece of silicone from the stainless steel ring with his teeth, almost swallowing it in the process.

Even with this outcome, I still like the Silikids cups and will probably get the larger 16-oz ones for myself. The brand is just not a good fit for Alphonse or for any individual who chews and bite things avidly.

The “strongest silicone cup” was no match for Alphonse’s teeth. Oh well.

A few weeks ago, my sister-in-law (A’s sister and the kids’ godmother, J) gifted Alphonse with a two silicone cups she purchased in the US. Of the two, Alphonse took to the bigger one immediately, a foldable soup cup from Smart Planet. It’s large enough that it doesn’t need constant refilling and the plastic rim has stayed smooth despite being gnawed on. This is Alphonse’s cup for now.

See Alphonse enjoying his new cup? He always steals it from the kitchen. It multitasks as his drinking glass, ice cream bowl, and bubbles bowl too!

We’ve done away with paper cups since we shifted to silicone glasses. We’re also reusing the last of our plastic cups, a lot of which came from food deliveries, and we won’t be buying more. While we already segregate, recycle, and compost, I truly feel that we could do a lot more to reduce our impact on the environment. This may be a small step but one that’s the beginning of our journey to limit the amount of waste we generate.

In the meantime, the search for the perfect silicone cup for Alphonse continues.

His Mama’s Name

Every morning, we follow a routine to get Alphonse ready for the day. Part of this routine is taking his medications after breakfast. Even the order of his medicines has been planned to get him to swallow his pills and capsules first before we shift to those that need to be chewed, such as his supplements.

Every morning, this is our dialogue:

Me: This is your first medicine. It is yellow and small. Are you ready?

Alphonse: Ha! (Which means “yes.”)

I put the yellow pill on his tongue and he dry swallows it. He takes a sip of water afterwards.

Me: This is your second medicine. It is pink. Your Mama’s name is Pinky. Pink color and Mama Pinky!

Alphonse: Ha! (Which means “yes,” again.)

Mama: Are you ready for the second medicine?

Alphonse: Ha! (Which means “hurry up and give it to me already!”😜)

I hand him the second one and he dry swallows again. Sometimes I have to remind him to take a sip of water to wash it down.

Me: Please drink your water.

Alphonse obediently takes a short sip. Then he opens his mouth to show me there is no pill inside.

Alphonse: Ha! (Which means “Look! It’s all gone!”)

Mama: Wow! You did that very well! Thank you for taking your medicine.

We do this until we finish all his morning medications, eight all in all, including chewable supplements.

At the end, I ask him if he remembers his Mama’s name.

Me: Alphonse, do you remember my name, baby? I told you my name at the start.

Alphonse: (pauses to think, then smiles broadly) Ha!

Mama: Okay, big boy. I know you’re smart. What’s your Mama’s name?

Alphonse: (takes a deep breath, then shrieks) Mama!!!

What a smart boy I have! 😂

This is Alphonse being naughty and cute at the same time, hehe. He loves mouthing stuff and would walk around carrying this -or some other thing- in his mouth. (Yes, that’s a KFC gravy cup which we reuse for his little snacks and cut-up fruit. )

Easter and Autism

Alphonse didn’t sleep on Thursday night, which meant the whole household went with little or no sleep, too. We were all addled and dazed the next day, doing our chores on autopilot even as our brains were blinking red in distress. Lack of sleep, repeated over and over again over time, has a way of wearing all of us down.

While most families were in their rest and relaxation modes for the long weekend, ours was in full work mode- keeping him busy, pacifying his fears, redirecting his aggression, and making him happy. There is no respite in sight. It’s not fair, I know, most especially for Alex, but for better or for worse, this is our life.

Then yesterday, in a sudden fit of anger, Alphonse pulled my hair again -what’s left of it, anyway- and kicked me on the chest while I was down. As I staggered beneath the weight of his heavy hands, I felt his foot connect with my chest. The kick came so unexpectedly that against my better judgment, I shrieked and cried for help. In the last few weeks, talking Alphonse down from the edge had worked rather well, but yesterday, he was in full meltdown mode that he was unable to pull back anymore. My husband, alerted to my cries, rushed to my aid and was able to disengage Alphonse from me. He took over the rest of the afternoon, doing gross motor exercises with Alphonse to tire him for the night.

This morning, my head heavy and throbbing, my chest tender and hurting, I had to summon all of my good cheer and positive energy to face Alphonse again. I have to be honest; sometimes, it isn’t easy to wake up raring to face the world again, more so when the past day has been a particularly bruising one. Some days, I wish I could just bury my head in the sand and not come up for air. But seeing Alphonse- wide-eyed and unsure each morning, stepping into our world with such fear and trepidation- erases all my ambivalence and I dive back head first into our daily grind.

When I reflect upon the Holy Week and what it means to us as a family, I am reminded that Love is a truly powerful force. It is Love that makes forgiveness possible, even when we have been hurt over and over again. It is Love that summons mercy and compassion even when anger and disappointment threaten to overwhelm us. It is Love that covers us with an impenetrable armor of hope and optimism. In the middle of tears, it is Love that makes us laugh and smile again.

I admit I have been dispirited and disheartened many times over the last few weeks. Working with Alphonse daily is exhausting work that requires pouring all my emotions, energy, and attention into him; when he rejects me as he does, I am crushed and defeated, submerged in a sorrow so deep that my strength and determination are often not enough to drag me out of my despair. But Love, even in the darkest, deepest hole, brings a sliver of His light and I am able to recognize- nay, see-something beautiful and hopeful in Alphonse and in our lives again. Without darkness, there is no light, this we know only too well.

In the season of His rebirth, we are grateful to be reborn in hope as well.

Raising a Child with Autism: Parents Speak

Three weeks ago, I was invited to be part of a seven-member panel of parents for a forum on raising children with autism. Organized and sponsored by Kaakibat ng Autism Society Philippines Multi-purpose Cooperative (KASPI-MPC), the forum was spearheaded by its hardworking President, Ms. Josephine Palomares, and was open to both members and nonmembers of the cooperative. Ms. Mayang Pascual facilitated the discussion and helped us get comfortable with the exchange and sharing. I was joined by one father and six mothers; our children’s ages range from 10 to 49. Each of us had at least one child in the spectrum.

I am grateful to Jo and Mayang for allowing me to share parts of Alphonse’s journey with the audience. Our story has often elicited sympathy, if not outright pity, from those who have never met Alphonse. Sure, our life is filled with meltdowns, with aggression and self-injury, with daily challenges that continue to confound us to this day, but Alphonse’s story is also a story of hope and perseverance amid a mountain of difficulties. It is a story of grit and love. And while it is important to hear those not-so-rosy parts to give people a “real” view of what autism in the far end of the spectrum is, it is equally important to recognize Alphonse as one who struggles bravely to master himself and his environment resolutely.

(Photo credit: KASPI-MPC)

We were asked to prepare a short introduction of our children for the audience. We were also given a shortlist of questions to help us prepare for the question-and-answer style of the forum. Below is the introduction I wrote, and some of the answers to the questions I was asked. It is my hope that parents who read this find encouragement and recognize that their love and acceptance can open up their child’s world.

Alphonse is exactly 23 years and 3 months old today, and yet, for all the years he has lived, he remains very much a child in interests and behavior. He loves Disney musicals, Ava and Dave, and Princess Sofia. He is afraid of the dark, of fire, and of spiders. On hot days such as this, you can almost always find him playing with a large basin and a hose. He jumps in his big trampoline when he feels like it or paces around the house, but you’d most often find him in the garage, sitting in his plastic patio chair, blowing endless bubbles.

“Blues brothers cool!”

Alphonse lives a solitary life with his parents and brother. He has no playmates or friends. He hardly goes out because crowds and noises overwhelm him. The closest person to a friend he has is his older brother. Together, they hang out in the schoolhouse aka playroom aka boys’ pad, Kuya playing with his consoles while Alphonse watches or blows bubbles beside him. Despite this, he is a generally happy fellow, sweet and lovable. He loves to sit on his dad’s lap. He helps his mom adjust her glasses when it falls off her nose. And he follows Kuya everywhere, even to the toilet, where he sits by the door and patiently waits.

“Aarrr, I am cutie,” says pirate Alphonse, with his hook nose and nasty snarl. Argh!

To many, Alphonse may seem to live a limited life, holed up within the four walls of our home. The happiness Alphonse shows, however, proves that he is exactly where he needs to be, doing exactly what he wants to. He is at peace, and, as a result, so are we.

Q: When you found out that your child has autism, How did you feel and what did you do to deal with the situation? Did you have a denial phase?

A: Alphonse was diagnosed at 18 months of age, a few months after we began to notice that he was no longer talking. I think the period between recognition and diagnosis was my denial phase. Back then, there were days when Alphonse seemed connected to us, making acceptance difficult, if not impossible. I dealt with the denial by burrowing myself in information, trying to convince myself that what we were seeing had some other possible explanation, something other than autism. When the developmental pediatrician gave us the diagnosis in no uncertain terms, denial was no longer possible. What came next was a period of grief and guilt, of wondering how and what I could have done to change the outcome of things.

Q: What challenges did you face or are currently facing now at this particular stage?

A: Alphonse is 23 and is a young adult. Were he neurotypical, he would have graduated from college by now, be employed, perhaps even have a girlfriend. Today, he is a man-child, someone whose interests are limited still to childish pursuits, and yet he is physically and physiologically a full grown adult male. The greatest challenge we face these days is trying to reconcile his physical strength to his cognitive abilities. The disparity is so great that it has caused our family difficulties, especially during his periods of stress.

Q: What were the kinds of interventions you employed and what were the most effective? Did you undergo any difficulty engaging those services?

A: A few days right after diagnosis, Alphonse went to school for early intervention. We did the usual- sped, speech, occupational therapy. As he grew older, we added additional services such as play and aqua therapy. We changed and supplemented his diet. His behavior started to deteriorate when he was four, causing concern and reluctance in some institutions to allow him enrolment. For many years, Alphonse could not be accommodated in group therapies and received one-on-one intervention. When he was nine, we made the decision to home school him. That, I think, has given us a better outcome, albeit it has not been a perfect one.

For us, ABA was the most effective way by which Alphonse learned. Today, however, because he is slowly manifesting a greater desire to participate in relationships, I feel that the Son-Rise program is also helping us make headway in acquiring his full trust.

Q: What were the big & little victories of your child and what were the personal breakthroughs that you had or are presently having?

A: No one knew Alphonse could read. We never even tried to teach him because we got stuck in the alphabet. Whenever teachers would try to read him books, Alphonse would grab the books and rip them to shreds. We noticed, however, that whenever we would read aloud to his big brother, Alphonse never left the room. This was the time Harry Potter was really big and my eldest son was so engrossed in it. On a whim, we decided to ask Alphonse questions about the book and give him choices written in paper. He gave us the correct answer each time.

I wish I could tell you that this was the magic bullet that solved all our challenges. Alphonse’s difficulties are so severe that moments such are these are few and far-in-between. Yet each time he looks at us, comes to us for a request, asks us of anything, that I feel is already a breakthrough because it goes completely against isolation and everything his autism is.

Q: How did having a child with autism change you & your family?

A: I have to admit, Alphonse was and is the center of our world. I wish I could undo that, for my eldest son’s sake, but that is done and nothing can change that anymore. Perhaps that’s one of the few things I would want to change- to not be so caught up in autism that everything else in our lives became secondary, sometimes even our own personal needs and desires.

The best thing to come out of my son’s autism is that our family has become stronger and more united. I’m sure a lot of families can identify with that but our son’s difficulties have taught us that we are stronger than we think we are, that there is nothing that can bend or bow us as long as we love each other.

Q: What are your aspirations for your child and how do you plan on making that happen?

A: I am still working on giving Alphonse his voice, so no matter how old he is, we have not stopped his education. As he grows older, I have learned to modify my expectations and not set his value based on what he can do or not do. In the end, I just want him to be happy. To know that he is always loved so he need not hurt others. To find peace in his body and mind so he will no longer hurt himself.

~0~

My grateful thanks again to KASPI-MPC, and to all the other parents who shared their experiences with us. I learned a lot from all of them; their willingness to teach and share what they have learned in their own journeys is a gift to those who follow in their footsteps. To Max, Doris, Imee, Ma’am Emma, Dr. Lirio, Ma’am Carmel, and to Jo and Mayang, God bless you all!

“Not The Mama”

Image

When I brought out breakfast for the boys yesterday morning, Alphonse came up to me right away and kissed me. I was glad to see him looking happier than he had been of late, so, buoyed by the 3Es of the Son-Rise Program, I celebrated with whoops of joy and a silly dance.

Alphonse turned out to be amazingly responsive, using more vocalisations to respond to me. His “red light” moments were shorter, enabling me to sustain longer interactions with him.

While he was having his breakfast, I kept a running conversation with him. At one point, I asked him, “Did you have a good night’s sleep, Alphonse?” He responded with a loud “Yah” and a vigorous nod. I followed it up with “Did you have a good dream?” Alphonse roared “Yah!” again, smiling broadly and nodding his head in obvious agreement.

Of course, this Mama just had to ask: “Did you dream of Mama?”

Alphonse looked at me quizzically, then shouted a deafening “Eh! Eh!” He shook his head emphatically. An expression that can only be described as “ewww” 🤢 crossed his face fleetingly.

I laughed so hard I almost fell off my seat.

I wish I could have recorded the whole thing in video. When Alphonse opens himself up, he is quite the hilarious fellow.

Then again, do I give him nightmares? 🧐

Update:

Today, I asked him the same questions, and his replies were honestly consistent.

Me: Did you have a good night’s sleep, baby?

Alphonse: (shaking his head) Eh.

Me: Did you have good dreams?

Alphonse: (shaking his head again) Eh.

Me: Did you dream of Mama?

Alphonse: (nods sadly) Ya.

I do give him nightmares! This just cracks me up! 🤪