Losing My Marbles

One of the blessings and curses of autism is the need for routine. A typical day in our untypical lives usually begins with marbles. Newly-turned four-year-old Callum climbs up onto my side of our double sized bed. He giggles and paws at me like a puppy before burrowing his legs under the covers. He lies his head on my neck so I can stroke his hair. This makes me feel like my throat is being crushed, which might not seem like a great way to wake up, but I'm so grateful he wants to be near me that I welcome it.

Inevitably, Callum's little puppy paws are filled with marbles. A year ago-- well, one year, one month, two weeks, and five days ago-- Callum discovered marbles. His bowling obsession morphed into a passion for more portable rollies. [Thankfully, he has never put them in his mouth.] He builds marble runs out of plastic pieces we've purchased or whatever is available to him at that particular moment. When his tower is complete, it's often taller than he is. He follows the intended path with his finger, from the very top to the place where the marbles will collect at the bottom. Then, down the marbles drop, one or a dozen at a time, racing for the finish line.

Part of Callum's morning cuddle routine involves creating a marble run out of the nearest hilly object, which happens to be me. He makes a path in the down comforter I'm still trying to snooze under. He laughs and jabbers as the marbles roll over a shoulder slope or hip mountain. A few or many minutes later, hunger sets in. Callum inevitably forgets to collect some of his marbles before he runs downstairs in search of Cheerios. I fling the covers off my side of the bed and send marbles flying. It's 7:00 AM, and I've already lost my marbles.

I don't know what it is about marbles that Callum finds so comforting. Perhaps it's their smooth texture, their swirled colors, or merely the fact that they roll. He has always enjoyed things that spin or roll and I think he probably likes the fact that he can make them move so easily. Whatever his reasons, he's hooked.

So am I.

Knowing how to calm an upset or overwhelmed child is a crucial skill for any parent to develop. Is it more important for a parent of a child living with autism? Ask a couple of moms and dads raising both autistic and neurotypical children and you'll have your answer. This mom is going to go ahead and say yes. Most of my coat pockets, my purse, and other areas of my life are currently stashing an emergency ration of marbles. I'm never sure what will cause my little man to become upset, but I do know how to fix it. A marble is a wonderful distraction from something unpleasant, or a fair trade for something I don't want dragged home from the beach.

Every night, hours after the rest of the family has gone to sleep, I sneak into the children's bedrooms to kiss their velvety cheeks and recover the feet that have found their way out of the blankets. When I enter Callum's room, I unload the marbles from my pants pockets and quietly set them in the cup that sits next to his latest marble run masterpiece.

Sometimes I am so tired, I forget that step of my Mommy routine. I go into my own room and fling my pants over one of the bedposts. The sound of tumbling marbles shatters the beautiful sound of silence I've stored up for myself.

I'm not going to glamourize it. Some days, striving to be a good parent is hard and trying to parent a child with special needs seems downright impossible. But I try to look on the bright side. Whenever I feel like I'm losing my marbles, I need only look in my pocket to find them again.

If you haven't visited operationjack.org please stop by and read about a father who has gone from couch potato to running 60+ marathons this year in order to raise money for Train4Autism.