When Cameron was little (and not yet diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome) he had a difficult time remembering which shoe went on which foot. I guess we corrected him alot because he became so obsessed with getting it right that he started asking if his SOCKS were on the right feet! We would smile and answer, “Socks don’t matter!” It became our little inside family joke- and soon it was used for any situation that was getting more thought or attention than it really deserved. To this day you can hear,”socks don’t matter!” in our family as a lighthearted reminder to keep our perspective.
Raising a family is challenging under any circumstances. We have four very unique kids. Our oldest son, Cameron. is entering HS- he was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome in the 2nd grade. Craig is beginning middle school and is in the gifted program. Our daughter, Jamie, is in her last year of elementary school and deals with some yet undiagnosed visual/learning ’stuff.’ Our youngest, Jordan, is in elementary school and was diagnosed with autism by age two. We were initially told by “the experts” that he was “mentally retarded” and that they were “hopeful he would learn to communicate.” Jordan had amazing therapists in First Steps, talented and creative preschool teacher and assistants, and school personnel who saw his potential, not his disability. He has not had an inclass assistant in two years and gets advanced math work. He has played Y soccer and Rec league basketball; he loves cub scouts and going golfing.
It was at the time of Jordan’s diagnosis that “Socks don’t matter” took on a new meaning for me. Lance Armstrong has”10/2″ on his line of clothing to commemorate the day his life changed, the day he found out he had cancer. Sometimes I want a shirt with “12/10″ on it- the day Jordan was pronounced “mentally retarded probably autism.” Eric and I sat in the car outside the doctor’s office with our then 19 month old quietly in his carseat, we talked of the life plans we had for our son, and for ourselves, that had just changed dramatically. We went to a church Christmas dinner that evening and sat numbly at our table while all the celebrating went on around us. Soon my attention shifted to what did we need to do next. We already had the best therapists. They took a “family therapy” approach to everything they did with Jordan. We were all involved. It was time to take action.
At the same time, Cameron was struggling at school. Isolating himself from others and having outbursts that, though we saw them at home, he had not had at school.The answer came a few months later- Asperger Syndrome. It made so much sense and I actually felt relief to know what it was so we could deal with it and get him the supports he needed.
So in two months time we had 2 sons diagnosed with autism spectrum disorders. That’s where our faith took over. Our church congregation is like our extended family, they have been a huge part of our lives and the boys are as much a part of that ‘family’ as anyone. Our beliefs are that we existed before this life and that we go on after it- that this is just a time to learn and grow. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace as I got a clearer understanding that “autism” is not who my kids are but one of the challenges they face. Sometimes, especially as I’ve watched my sons overcome so much, I feel like it’s MY challenge to learn from far more than it’s theirs. You will not hear my husband nor I use the term “autistic” when describing our boys (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with the word) we instead say, “he has autism/asperger’s.” It’s our personal way of reminding ourselves it’s not who they are but what they have.
One of the most important things I would want a parent of a newly diagnosed child to know is that “socks don’t matter.” Parenting these guys takes so much effort, it’s imperative to keep perspective- to pick your battles and be able to laugh at the zaniness that becomes our lives.
This is so close to home. When Michael was little and before knew what autism was, let alone Asperger’s, we too had the sock issue. We spent alot of time on the concepts of left and right- hands, feet and yes, shoes. He would repeatedly ask which one was the left sock when getting dressed and refused to accept that it didn’t matter. It took months of telling and showing that socks were socks- all that mattered was that they were clean, right side out and matched.
About six years later I reconnected with a couple of very close friends from High School that I had not seen in almost 20 yrs. In conversation one mentioned that she labeled all her socks left and right and assigned each pair a letter so she could get the right ones together. She insisted that it makes a difference. YIKES! I told the sock story and told her in no uncertain terms that she was never allowed to mention it in my house. No way was I going to go through that again!