Vanity

Apparently a war was waged recently – chillingly close to my bedside. It must have been quite a sight. Unseen by me, even though it was fought in my own bathroom. Yes, I can see from the newly darkened hair of my husbands he attempted, again, to color his own locks.

Mind you, it suits him, that deep brown hair color. Looks good with his Sicilian year round skin tone. And honestly, I appreciate him taking care of himself. As we age (we as in all of us) its only natural to fight nature with the products and protocols manufactured just for this purpose. But really, my toilet seat was meant to be white, dear.

Oh, and the drips on the counter, in the drawers, and all around the sink? Didn’t you USE the gloves provided in the box, dear? And my towels, or should I say your towels now, they didn’t do anything to solicit such abuse. Yes, there is a waiting period for the dye to adhere to the hair folicle….I get that. But getting sucked into your favorite NFL channel – post season no less – is not a good enough excuse for destroying the nice bed linens that I JUST washed and replaced. Again, where was the plastic head liner that was also provided IN THE BOX, dear?

Thanks for leaving the conditioning treatment in the shower for me to use too. But leaving the comb, q-tips, and oh! so thats where the plastic gloves went….they too are in the shower, dear. And I’m curious, just how did you manage to spray that forsaken dye on the ceiling? Do you just shake like one of the dogs when they come in from the rain, dear? The mirror, did what you saw need to be swiped by your hand while wrangling the applicator, dear?

Yes, it was a thrifty thought, buying a nice hair dye kit on sale, with a coupon to use in the privacy (you thought) of your own home. It really was……but I think next time you need to be supervised. Of course, I’ll grab the stain remover, paint supplies, industrial cleansers and hydrogen peroxide when I’m at the store, dear. No problem. But honey – I’m also going to make you an appointment for 3 weeks from now with my stylist. I have a feeling it will save us more in the end, dear.

(Insert eye roll, right about HERE, dear.)

~ Wendy Frye

“A good marriage would be between a blind wife and a deaf husband.” ~ Michel de Montaigne

Grown

I am the proud mother of two sons. Both adults now – one a Senior in High School and the eldest, diagnosed on the autism spectrum so long ago that it really doesn’t matter.

The burdens of raising children in this day and age are quite remarkable. It has to be said with todays technology we can loose touch with each other in a home more often than keeping in touch with children being sucked into the vortex of social media. Never looking up from the dinner table is not my idea of time well spent.

Since retiring early from a sparkling career to care for my eldest, we’ve finally hit a time that we could come together as more of a family. With the sacrifices of raising a special needs child, i.e. the monetary outlay, abbreviated social life, appointments and therapies, it can be said that our earlier years were a blur and nothing to be envied.

So, now, when it’s actually legal for me to run away (oh ya, I won’t lie, it’s not a thought but a fantasy) we have pulled in and are actually enjoying each other. Call it upside-down and backwards – but we are now living forward.

I never got to (had to) drive either of my sons to a soccer game. I’ll leave that pleasure to other parents. Neither of my sons played sports, one couldn’t and the other wouldn’t. While we missed out on all the extra-curricular activities I hear other parents bitch about (no time to themselves, the expense, the coaches, the juggling of a calendar) its all good.

But hey. I can’t even describe how wonderful it is to be dragged out of bed way too early on a Saturday morning by my eldest, The Artist!, who wants to show off his newest graphic art work. Always a surprise – this man is going places. Need more coffee on those mornings.

Or, watching my youngest son, also technically an adult, gain success at school. He’s growing outward and finally enjoying unique activities that appeal to him. Ecentric, smart, shall I say dapper? We love going to thrift stores to score another vintage pair of jeans, or a Pendleton wool flannel to wear overseas when he visits Europe this spring.

Who else can claim that even though the new eclectic movie by Wes Anderson “The Grand Budapest Hotel” isn’t showing in our city, yet, still holds enough interest that we will be re-creating their signature confection this weekend. Why, that would be me – any my youngest! This little sumptuous ditty requires a trip to the farmers market for the best cream available plus a run to the local german import store for the finest chocolate from Bavaria. “Courtesan Au Chocolate” – on the menu. And no, I’m not sharing.

Tonight, we’ve already planned whats for dinner. I’ve gathered up some great nibbles and drinks to watch the next episode of “The Vikings”…one of our favorite historical shows – together. We four Fryes.

I am lucky. Twenty five years this July, married to the same great guy, two adult sons who are finding success in their own way….with some tasty treats along the way. And even though, deep in our hearts, we would have preferred a different outcome than being lifetime caregivers…..we are still miles ahead when it comes to appreciating family. And now, finally coming to a time when we feel a little more normal than not as a family. Our little, teeny tiny, family.

(Oh, I should add the tag-line about the two horrible little white dogs count around here too.)

Enjoy the day! ~ Wendy Frye

“Everybody thought I was a bit of an eccentric for wanting to be out there looking at the stars, but I still do.” ~ Brian May

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Ideology

It is thought by some, that Autism renders the soul without ego. Living in the id – or emerging infantile ego state – of base needs and Freudian explanations over the lack of “social conscience”.

The id of my son:

Social conscience, for my adult son diagnosed on the spectrum at the age of 3 1/2 years old, be dammed. He slurps, burps or bumps into people on the street without a thought. Ever mindful of hygiene, taking two showers a day, abusing the deodorant and shampoo, he still refuses to shave his beard. Looking like a wanna be bearded Amish man – his face fuzz is just NOT manly – but he doesn’t care. An extended hand to shake receives a wag of the finger, no hands touching. Awkward? Yes. It’s all in the getting used to part of knowing him.

The ego of my son:

So. You want to talk about works of art and their makers. Discuss creations by masters of pop or surreal nature. He’s on it and engaged. Working with his new job counsellor today, a charming lady – he’s met his perfect ying/yang match. She’s creative, happy and does not hide her obsession for colorful pens….all nestled in clay mugs in a row across her desk.

Lively discussion, complete with true admissions from the young man, he paints his future out loud like a masterpiece. Can’t name the exact voodoo his counsellor possesses – but she is in possession of a certain kind of magic for sure. The conversation drifts into the nuts and bolts of the work involved, she turns to me and my son tunes out.

He retreats into the conference room. The walls littered with quotes and phrases of encouragement and an oversized white board. A blank and handy canvas, just ready for his ink. Picking up the first dry erase pen (no asking, just assuming it’s okay) he starts a new drawing . She quickly finds and hands him another box of more colors and shades from her extensive collection. Just like my son, never missing a beat.

THIS is going to be fun……
~ Wendy Frye

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Mincemeat – reposted!

We have a rule in our house: We are the nicest to each other because we should be.

From time to time I reach down, pull out my worn out soap-box, step up and preach to my children about the people out “there” in the world we live in. The people you meet who would willingly punch you in the throat to get ahead. “Let those persons have at it” I tell them, in the end you won’t want to know them anyway. While choosing how you interact with other people, remember to always consider your own family first. We will always be stuck with each other, get used to it, so be nice. I then require them to re-commit to the “team”. The family “team” who WILL ACT CIVILLY, TREAT EACH OTHER WITH RESPECT, AND REMEMBER TO USE THEIR MANNERS WITH EACH OTHER! “What?!!” “Why are we having this same conversation again……MOM!” My teen-aged boys cry out in unison. “Well, let me go down my current list of reasons why in sequential order.”

– Telling your autistic (but not even close to helpless) brother that the magenta colored golf shirt he picked out for our vacation to San Francisco will make him look “gay”, is unacceptable. Gay people wear purple and straight people wear purple. Don’t be judgey of anyone.

– Snapping at each other (semi-forcefully) while folding laundry over which channel to watch on the television is complete lunacy. On that perfect day the window was open and the neighbors heard you bickering like holler monkeys. Not cool.

– Punishing your parents for wanting to take you to lunch after shopping as a family JUST because you couldn’t agree on a restaurant after 25 minutes is unacceptable. It’s called deferring to each other from time to time, gentleman. Go look it up.

– Launching air squadrons when either of you enter the kitchen just to protect your soda, ice cream or (insert here) from the other one this summer will not continue. And the Nerf gun your Dad brought home? I buried it in my garden.

– Remember, the dogs are family too. If you let them out, you wait for them to come back in. Standing on the deck, again bellowing like a holler monkey, wearing only boxer shorts and a t-shirt is not okay. You are hurting their feelings yelling at them in that tone – and use patience!
Sometimes they need a little privacy too.

Lastly, in general, the snapper-fish answers to anyone who asks a question will end. Automatically responding “no” is lame. Please try harder in the future to craft your answers and use your words, please. As punishment, each takes a turn going all day without referring to themselves in first person. Think about that, all day without starting a sentence with the word “I”. The mental fatigue will be epic. But you will be fine. “Are we good now?”. “YES MOTHER!”

I retired my soapbox for now – a little wary……..knowing full well that the potential to be submarined by my two children and just as insolent husband is lurking around any corner. Seriously, is turnabout always fair play? Maybe, maybe not.

Oh man, I am doomed. ~ Wendy Frye

“Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdom.” Walter Benjamin

Wiz

One absolutely spectacular benefit working within the banking industry is a certain pretend holiday, Columbus Day. Oh yeah, falling on a Monday in October while the kids are back in school, husbands at work….Columbus Day HAS to be the best, employer paid holiday EVER known in the United Sates of America.

A couple of years ago, while employed with a local credit union, another Columbus Day came along. The time was ripe. My son on the Spectrum had shown me twice the venue he wanted to visit. His younger brother, an absolute super-hero, was good with the idea. So, we sprang it on him. Booked an overnight flight to Vegas (Baby!) to visit the unknown-to-most Pinball Hall of Fame!

You know the song, Pinball Wizard. Well, the guy with late onset autism, he relates. The self proclaimed “gamer” regressed, technologically speaking, into loving pinball. So hey, just try finding an operating machine thats not in a dive bar or other establishment that discourages a 16 year old young man from living his passion. Not easy, any day of the week. But try we did. So with his research and discovery of the “Hall” lie the path that will lead us to pinball Nirvana.

Om. (Clang Clang!)

Within fifteen minutes of our arrival to Vegas, we were surrounded by two hundred plus pinball machines. All workable and playable, spanning from the oldest to the latest, WOW! Can you say sensory overload? “MOM!” “I need a quarter!” was the last I heard from him for the eight hour shift.

It really was my idea of idyllic, a wonderful way to spend a weekend with my son. Besides the “Hall” we went to the art showing at the Bellagio, ate crappy pizza, had dinner for breakfast and pillaged the arcade at our hotel resort.

Returning home exhausted at 2:00 in the morning, I drug it to work the next day and managed to play off that I hadn’t slept in 24 hours. Arriving home, ready to collapse, my eldest son yells for my attention from the basement. He’d found it, a new Nirvana – the Coin Operated Museum in San Francisco!

“When can we go!” ~ James Frye

“If some people didn’t tell you, you’d never know they’d been away on a vacation.” ~ Kin Hubbard

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Fertile

I conceptualize the new year cycle that starts today. Today, I condition the seeds for planting in my garden. The very miracle of life from the God given spark within the tiny, miraculous encapsulation that simply assures succession of its species. A preconceived cycle of life, nourishing my family, making my time spent a higher quality – as only hard work will do.

The calendar mocks January. Snow on the ground. Cold wind in the air. In the Pacific Northwest of the United States the seasons are as vibrant as any seasonal calendar picture for purchase in December. But oh man, my palms itch to move enriched soil around my garden patch, to smell the fragrance of spring, and anticipate the fruits from the earth.

My kitchen table is being taken over by little seed pots, secured with plastic covers. The smell of the outdoors is a lovely fragrance permeating our home. Each little sprout promises loving, complete nutrition spiced by sustainable hope that only the first season of the year can whisper.

Delicious anticipation strengthens the project. The time it takes from seed to plant to harvest to preservation extends the pleasure. The wonderment knowing the most high lends a hand to this miraculous process. Delightfully complete fulfillment – all in a garden.

“My garden is my church.” ~ Wendy Frye

“I think this is what hooks one to gardening: it is the closest one can come to being present at creation.” ~ Phyllis Theroux

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Leverage

Three little words in our home are equal in power to any weapon of mass destruction. The biggest and oldest of our two Bichon Frise, Annie-Annie, not only understands what we say, she buys into the power of persuasion when it comes to her Daddy.

Weekend mornings, she lays in wait, listening for any of the three, harmless little words. “Go.” “Walk.” or “Leash”.

Sometimes, when the Bichons are outside, my husband will whip open the slider and simply raise the leash like a flag – a beacon of hope that Annie has not been forgotten. Other times, the two will have a elongated stare down. The subliminal hope in a thought that she will get to strut and brag with her beloved daddy down the street.

Then, those mornings, when the moment seems right. I whisper a key word under my breath. Ever vigilant, she typically looks at us in disbelief. Of course, I cannot say with all certainty that my husband is ready for a little jaunt, however, there is no turning back the clock to the moment before the “mistaken” utterance. “Oops! Sorry Hon.” I mock wearing a devilish, sideways smile.

“Well then, I better get my shoes, and you better get your leash.” ~ Dan Frye

“Peeves do not make very good pets.” ~ Bo Bennett

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Color

Today, nineteen years ago, our eldest son entered this world. Little did we realize how spectacularly unprepared we were for the task. But somehow along the way, we found our game and started to play.

He was a whopping 10 pounds 4 ounces, two weeks overdue and five years in the making. The greenest eyes to see the world on a spectrum where some colors are a little different shade, but just as beautiful. Even before his diagnosis of autism, we sensed he was going to be a huge change in our world, but really – we had no idea how much.

So James, Happy Birthday! Your family loves you soooooo much. May today bring you peace and continued hope for the brightest future imaginable.

Love,
Mom, Dad, Jon, Annie & Little Lilly Lou Lou too…….

“Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start new.” ~ Sammy Hagar

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Passed

To look forward to the opportunities to be chronicled starting with the initiation of a new year, it seems sensible to look back – first. I had forgotten and needed to re-learn how to measure success a long, long time ago. While recovering a child on the autism spectrum, the days, weeks, months, and years all fly by. Terrified we would miss the “finish date”, that notion where critical brain development is truncated by age – which signaled the end of the road. Even with a son who is now an adult on the spectrum, there is still that little “bit-o-panic” that nips at the heinie….a silent clock that ticks only in the back of the mind.

Tick.

Tock.

But wait!

Stop!

Stand still. Reminisce, go back through pictures (painful or not), now review/backtrack the calendar. Where were we then? Where were we while trying to figure it all out in the haze of life jacked up in physician appointments, therapies, special education, familial scorn, awkward glances, outright ridicule, asshole “friends”, working too much for shallow souled people and places, plus the other assorted diatribe that really didn’t matter. It sure piled up.

Now breathe.

Quantify the big and little changes from the last year (and prior years). Sweep off to uncover the foundation that has already been built to work from. Give credit, recognize true supports, cut superficiality and relationships that compete for any energy that’s less than positive. Stop trying to payoff neglect or abuse – their is no tender available. Quit competing, this is not a race. This is a life.

Now move!

Expand your sense of excitement. Consider the endless possibilities. Practice flexibility. Embrace a true career calling. Release your abilities. To relish the freedom…..

All in a New Year! ~ Wendy Frye

“To achieve, you need thought. You have to know what you are doing and that’s real power.” ~ Ayn Rand

Resolve

Considering resolutions for the coming New Year has a lot more meaning, or so it seems. Stepping back, taking care of my now adult son on the Autism Spectrum, I’ve been given a golden opportunity. The opportunity to take back my life too – refine my own “how I wanna live” goals – and move forward into a new beginning. Oh sure, eat right, exercise, breathe, payoff bills, and all that rot remains tattooed to the list. But this go around, on a philosophical level, will be the changes it takes to live how I wanna LIVE.

This time, I resolve to……:

Love with all I have,
Respect myself,
Be creative,
Start a venture, and succeed,
Work smart,
Leave negativity behind (including negative people)
Volunteer,
Keep family a priority,
Forgive those people who have worked against me, mine or ours (seriously, even the ones who say they are a friend),
Stay positive,
Become a role model,
Expand my garden, literally and figuratively
Create abundance,
Reach out to others who need a hand,
Get to know my neighbors,
Dig up the old, wonderful relationships I had to leave behind early on dealing with Autism in my home (I miss some people!)
Be grateful for having enough,
Live without regrets.

This coming years resolutions doesn’t start with the new calendar, nope, it starts right now. With the holiday festivities starting today – what better time for a new beginning. Seriously, we all made it through the Mayan end of times, didn’t we? Yes, yes we did……

Cheers! ~ Wendy Frye

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson