Retail Therapy

On Thursday, the media gleefully reported that First Lady Michelle Obama had been photographed shopping at a Target store in Virginia. Since Alex and I had been shopping at another discount store, our local Kmart, the day before, I thought a comparison and contrast of their shopping adventures might be interesting.

Mrs. Obama was photographed wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses in an attempt to shop incognito. Alex, too, often wears a baseball cap and sunglasses in public places; however, he needs them to deal with the glare of fluorescent lighting in discount stores.

Mrs. Obama pushed her own shopping cart; Alex also pushes his own shopping cart.

Mrs. Obama shopped with an assistant and a Secret Service agent. Alex shops with Ed and/or me, his personal assistants who know how to run security detail, should he become agitated.

Mrs. Obama reportedly bought dog food and toys for First Dog Bo. Although we’ve never owned a dog, Alex enjoys going down the dog food aisle and seeing the big bags (40 or 50 pounds) of dog food, so he would have enjoyed shopping with Mrs. Obama. However, this week Alex shopped for athletic socks. Apparently, socks sounded like “sucks,” which led him to muttering and complaining, which led me to put down the socks and lead him out of Kmart before a meltdown erupted.

Mrs. Obama supposedly was not recognized by anyone in the store except for the clerk in the checkout lane. Alex moved through Kmart unnoticed, thanks to my quick response, until he decided to push the buttons angrily on the credit card reader at the customer service desk on his way out the door.

On Mrs. Obama’s way out of Target, customers probably noticed that she was having her picture taken by newspaper photographers. On Alex’s way out of Kmart, customers probably heard the beeping caused by his pushing buttons on the credit card reader and may have noticed my grabbing his arm as we hurried out the door. Fortunately, no photographers were available to record his annoyance or mine.

After all the attention Mrs. Obama received for her Target shopping trip, she may have to limit her visits to area discount stores. After his griping during our last Kmart shopping trip, Alex may find that I’m not terribly eager to take him shopping there again, at least not by myself. Maybe the next time we’ll take along our personal assistant/security detail, Ed. If he’s not available, maybe Mrs. Obama’s Secret Service agent would be willing to tag along with us since he’s a seasoned discount shopper.

I’m just thankful that Alex decided to voice his displeasure at Kmart, which is my least favorite of the “big box stores.” If we were banned from Kmart, that would be no big deal. However, not being able to shop at his favorite store, Wal-Mart, or my favorite, Target--now that would be a loss. In the meantime, we keep praying that we can target (no pun intended) whatever may be causing these irritations in Alex and hope that they disappear rapidly so that we can all enjoy retail therapy in peace.

“But the others replied, ‘We don’t have enough for all of us. Go to a shop and buy some for yourselves.’” Matthew 25:9

Pride

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog entries, Alex loves to grocery shop at Wal-Mart; in fact, pushing a cart down the crowded aisles is one of his favorite things to do. With just a little guidance from Ed or me, he somehow easily navigates around displays, people chatting on their cell phones as they stand in the middle of the aisles, and carts thoughtless shoppers have left blocking pathways. Despite these various irritations, Alex remains constantly cheerful, keeping a smile on his face the entire time. Watching him stroll confidently down the busy aisles, all the while staying out of other people’s way, I feel a pride that he has mastered an accomplishment most of his fellow Wal-Mart shoppers have not. In fact, I’ve half-kiddingly thought about having a bumper sticker made that reads, “My autistic kid pushes a grocery cart better than you do!”

A couple of evenings ago, we stopped by Alex’s favorite fun park, I mean, favorite grocery store to pick up the type of ham he likes to eat for breakfast. Since we were only getting the one item, we didn’t need a cart, but Alex still managed to stay out of other people’s way as he walked through the store. He has a habit of holding his hands up near his chest when he walks, which is probably a sensory or balance issue, or may just be a teenage self-conscious one since he’s so tall and lanky and doesn’t seem comfortable with his long limbs. Ed has been working with him this summer to try to get him to keep his arms down as he walks so that his gait looks more typical. Over the past several weeks, Alex has gotten better about keeping his hands at his sides, and he’s very cooperative about putting his hands down when gently reminded with the cue word, “Arms.” Without the cart to push, Alex’s hands went up to his chest, and as soon as we picked out the ham, we gave it to him to carry so that he would have something to put in his hands. Trotting through the store with an ear-to-ear grin, Alex looked as if he were carrying a trophy instead of a ham, which reminded me of a funny family story from my childhood. One time when we were visiting my grandfather, he wanted to give us a canned ham to take home. Because we were riding the train home, my mother explained that there was no good way to transport the ham. Undaunted, my grandfather suggested that my brother, who was probably about ten years old at the time, could carry the ham on the train. My mother explained that he wouldn’t want to carry it, to which my grandfather earnestly replied, “Why, he’d be proud to be carrying a ham!” This has become a joke in the family, as we have asked each other through the years in jest, “Were you as proud as if you’d been carrying a ham?” My cousin Beth tells this story best because she punctuates the details with an infectious giggle. Anyway, as I watched Alex carry that ham through Walmart, I finally understood what my grandfather, whom we called Paw Paw, meant about carrying a ham with pride. I think Paw Paw would have enjoyed watching Alex carry that ham proudly as much as Ed and I did.

While Alex has learned to maneuver the cart through the crowded store, Ed and I have developed a well-choreographed routine after we’ve checked out the groceries to get the food and Alex into the car quickly and efficiently. Last week, Ed commented that he and I were like members of a racecar pit crew the way we assume certain responsibilities in loading Alex and the groceries cooperatively with speed while staying out of each other’s way. Like the racecar driver, Alex pulls the cart into the pit stall, that is, up to the hatchback of our station wagon, which Ed opens. Then, I as the jack man, cue Alex when to go, making sure he is safely secured in his seat. Next, I run around to the back of the car to help Ed, the gas man, load the car with the fuel (i.e. our food for a few days), putting the groceries in the back of the car. Once he’s emptied the gas can, or grocery cart, I take the cart to the corral as he shuts the hatchback, and we quickly get in our seats and get ready to leave. Even though we can’t complete our tasks in less than fifteen seconds, as actual pit crews do, we’re fairly proud of how well we work together getting the job done so that Alex doesn’t have to wait too long for us to get rolling and on the road—almost as proud as if we were carrying a ham, that is.

“Yes, you are our pride and joy.” I Thessalonians 2:20

Adventures

This week, Alex and I are on spring vacation. "Vacation" is really a misnomer because we aren’t actually going somewhere on vacation; perhaps spring break is a better explanation for our situation—we’re on a break from school. Since the university where Ed teaches always has its spring break the first two weeks of March, and the school district where I teach always has its spring vacation the last week of March, our schedules for spring break never coordinate. Not that this difference really matters because we don’t vacation in the traditional sense anyway. Certainly, we enjoy our time off from school, but we spend our time relaxing at home instead of on a beach or at a family fun park. With Alex’s potential to have meltdowns—although less frequent than when he was younger—and his restricted diet that requires planning, staying home makes more sense than trying to deal with issues in unfamiliar settings.

This spring break week, as my friends and colleagues are flying to far-flung places, such as Arizona, Florida, Las Vegas, Cancun, Colorado, and the Caribbean, I’ll be here in Indiana hoping for sunshine. Fortunately, I am a homebody by nature, so staying home never feels like a sacrifice to me. Interestingly, two of my friends who are mothers of teenagers confessed that they would rather stay home, too, instead of going on their family’s planned trips over spring vacation, especially considering all the work involved in packing and unpacking that a trip involves. What they were most looking forward to on their vacations was spending time with their kids, and I can do that at home with Alex more easily than anywhere else. In addition, we can avoid dealing with the rising costs of gasoline, which I fear may upset Alex at some point. A few years ago when gas prices were high, he would have a fit every time we passed a gas station and he saw how expensive gasoline was at the time. Expressing his frustration, he would either throw anything loose he could reach from the backseat (snow scrapers, his sunglasses, books, etc.) at the windshield, or he would slap one of us in the front seat to make his displeasure known. During this time, Ed and I mastered driving places while avoiding any gas stations to prevent provoking the wrath of our backseat driver. Before we went anyplace, we would plot routes ahead of time to make certain Alex would never see the high cost of gasoline, and we learned to take several scenic routes to avoid the dreaded gas stations. Thankfully, gas prices went down, and Alex got over that obsession, but we worry that behavior might return, should he be agitated by rising costs again. Of course, this problem makes travel with Alex difficult, if not impossible.

Fortunately, Alex has simple tastes, finding joy and adventure in everyday experiences that most people take for granted or even find annoying. To begin our spring break, we spontaneously decided the other afternoon to go shopping at Walmart, his favorite place, with my mom. Although most teenage boys would rather be caught dead than shopping at Walmart with their mothers and grandmothers, Alex had a high old time pushing the cart for us, and he patiently listened as we discussed the merits of various toilet bowl cleaners and which flavors of sugar-free Jello tasted best. After we were done with our shopping, we took him to his current favorite section of the store, office supplies, where he happily looked at calculators and label makers, never touching anything, just tilting his head to see their various features. (His previous favorite section of the store was pet food, where he searched for the big bags of dog food and wanted to see the ones that contained the most pounds of food.) With a bemused smile, he waited calmly in the checkout line as the woman in front of us had difficulty using her credit card. Since he had been so pleasant, we decided to take him to an even-bigger array of office supplies at Staples, where he was pleased to view a large display of one of his favorite things, calendars. Again, he never touched anything in the store, just walked along and browsed contentedly. To reward him for his good shopping behavior, we took him to one of his favorite restaurants, a 1950’s style diner that plays golden oldies he enjoys. Sitting in a corner booth we call the Bob Dylan booth because Dylan’s Nashville Skyline album hangs on the wall above it, Alex always smiles as the pictured Bob tips his hat to him as if in greeting. Downing three large Sprites, Alex grinned as he listened to our animated conversation, never interrupting once. Certainly others probably have more exotic experiences during their spring breaks, but I doubt they enjoyed themselves any more than the three generations of us did on that cold, sunny afternoon in Indiana, running around doing mundane things. After all, life is about whom you’re with, not where you are, and Alex has learned that truth early and appreciates those experiences, never feeling that he is somehow missing out on other adventures in life. His contentment brings joy to those around him and makes us feel proud to have raised such a wise young man.

“Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don’t have.” Ecclesiastes 6:9