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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Feast

“I’m going grocery shopping, do you need more of your usual?” I asked my 17 year old son. “Oh GOD, no!”. My head snapped around, fast, eyes laser focused and left brow higher than Mr. Spock.

It all started the other day. A book came out of his backpack. An alternative guide to prescription medicine. It was four years new, checked out only one other time. I stopped breathing for a minute as he opened it up. Reading to me he decided to change a few things and manage his health a little differently.

Trying not to fall 6 feet to the floor, I stumbled into the kitchen. “So, what are you thinking?” He’s thinking, I can tell. This is my son who is a deep reader, deeper thinker who possesses more than a few brain cells to make thoughtful conclusions on most subjects sans his nutrient intake.

See, his older brother diagnosed on the autism spectrum almost 16 years ago, has been a constant recipient of biomedical interventions to improve his health and further his development. Vaccine injured, immune system blown, morbid allergy presentation – oh ya, it was an odyssey for all of us.

Despite the controversial spectacle in his own home, younger son controlled his world by rejecting any and all advice from his parents. He had control, we came to realize this. Dining on chicken nuggets and frozen fries, every day, 365 days, year over year – lets just say his health deteriorated.

He was past exhausted. Emaciated, with chronic heartburn, and assorted other symptoms – I insisted, he relented, and it was off to my integrative medical specialist. His tests showed something really wrong. Prescriptions, specialists, procedures and a really big hospital bill later proved to the young intellectual, unequivocally that he needed to change is evil ways.

He, not me, his father or brother – even the Bichons, who happen to eat better than he does, could change his thinking. Our son just needed to purchase the car to drive in his own change.

This morning, after coming downstairs, my super snazzy teal coffee pot I recently purchased was full of brewed green tea. Imported from the middle of China herself. Delicious! The counter was littered with yogurt cups, supplement bottles and a juice glass from breakfast.

“Mom.” “I read that the magnesium spray you make really can help me assimilate……….”

Welcome to the table my son. ~ Wendy Frye

“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.” ~ Jonathan Swift

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