All I Want for Christmas. Or Chanukah. I'm Not Picky.

It's been a long time.  Like a two months long time.  Sorry folks; there's been a lot going on the autism universe, and every time I went to write, I discovered someone else that already had, sounding way better than I ever do.  I think going forward I will post those links here, so I can share even if the words aren't my own.

I know that the holidays have just ended, but here I am, still digesting what lessons this holiday season has brought.  I've had a lot of occasion to think about acceptance this year; not only what it means, but what it looks like.  How to honor that in daily life with Brandon.  It's an ongoing, constant learning process for me, but for the holidays this year, it took the form of presents.

We happen to be a dual holiday household, so there are lots of presents.  Chanukah presents.  Christmas presents.  These are currently the only niece/nephew/grandchildren/I don't have kids of my own and think it's cute to buy for yours presents.  My home looks like a sub-section of Toys R' Us.  As the parent of an ASD child, presents can be anxiety provoking.  Usually for me, not the child in question.  Want to see me look like a deer stuck in headlights?  Ask me what Brandon wants.  The difficulty is not that he doesn't understand that there's a holiday.  Trust me; Saturday morning at 7 am on the first night of Chanukah, sunshine came bursting through the door of my room yelling, "Do you know what today is?!"  Try explaining the concept of a lunar calendar and the holiday not starting until sundown to him.  Go for it.  Let me know if you have any luck, OK?

No, the difficulty is in finding gifts that he's actually going to like.  In the past, this has involved serious guessing on my part.  Unlike other kids, Brandon didn't tell us.  So his gifts were always a mixed bag; lots of books about animals, toys selected to work on specific skills he needs help with, toys that I thought would push him to a more age appropriate level of play, toys that were more of what he already owned, just to make sure there was *something* in there he would like.  Toys that very often spoke more about what I hoped for, what direction I thought he should be growing in, than about who he is or what makes him happy.

Learning to accept Brandon as exactly who he is changes things though.  It has meant listening - really listening - to the logic behind many of his choices.  Understanding that behind his desire to watch his old "Baby Einstein" videos again is really a love of watching the animals, and a love of the classical music it is set to.  Recognizing that his beloved "Sea Rescue" TV show may not be on DVD yet, but there are other Sea World related toys and DVD's that would allow him hours of imaginative play of his favorite sea animal variety.  Throwing out notions of gender specificity in toys and knowing that he wants Disney princess toys, and Ariel in particular, so he can cast himself in the role of prince.  Ariel in particular because, of course, she is the princess of the sea - and she can come on his Sea Rescue adventures with him.  To be fair, we were also gifted with this being the year that Brandon has finally asked for specific toys.  In fact, he has spent many hours trolling both the Amazon and Toys R'Us websites, pulling us into his room to show us what he "wants to buy."

It has also meant advocating for him.  Explaining to family and friends that yes, I know what I've suggested you give him may be unusual.  I understand that the age range on the box may be far under what his actual age is.  But what is that against the look on Brandon's face when he opened his gifts this year and all of them - every single one - got a whispered "yes!" and a look of joy and excitement?  When he opened his stuffed Ariel and actually squealed, then planted a great big kiss on her?  What is any of that when my son felt like his wishes and dreams had been heard and answered?

The real gift, of course, didn't come in a box.  It never does.  Of course, if you've been thinking about this at all, you've also realized that the real gift wasn't for Brandon at all.  It was for me.  In opening my mind to the possibilities of who Brandon is, instead of who I might want him to be or what developmental milestone I think he should be pursuing through play this year, I gained my son.  The real person, with his real loves, hopes, and dreams.  The kid that wants to see Sea World with everything in him, appreciates classical music, and loves his new toys so much that he is asking much more often for us to come play with him.  He finally thinks we're hearing him, and he is honoring that by giving more of himself.

Santa, you brought me just what I wanted.

Really, does this face not say everything?