{"id":2082,"date":"2011-07-01T09:13:47","date_gmt":"2011-07-01T13:13:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/?p=2082"},"modified":"2011-07-01T09:13:47","modified_gmt":"2011-07-01T13:13:47","slug":"my-grandparent-piece-in-ny-times-motherlode","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/2011\/07\/my-grandparent-piece-in-ny-times-motherlode\/","title":{"rendered":"My Grandparent Piece in NY Times “Motherlode”"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Motherlode<\/a><\/div>\n
\n

June 22, 2011, 4:22 pm<\/em><\/p>\n

Grandfather Knows Best<\/h1>\n
By LISA BELKIN<\/a><\/address>\n
\n

Grandparents. It can be comforting to know our parents are there when we have kids, with wisdom and experience to share. It can be exasperating, too, that they assume they know best. As Susan Senator<\/a>, author of \u201cThe Autism Mom\u2019s Survival Guide\u201d<\/a> writes in a guest post today, it can often be both of those things at the same time.<\/p>\n

Especially when they are right.<\/p>\n

OPENING THE DOOR<\/strong>
\nBy Susan Senator<\/p>\n

When I first told my father about my oldest son Nat\u2019s autism, Dad said, \u201cWell, he\u2019s still our Nat.\u201d Our Nat. I remember being stunned by the simplicity of that response, thinking, \u201cdoes he really get what I just said?\u201d even though he is an intelligent man. For some time after that, I took many opportunities to rub his face into the rotten places autism took me to. \u00a0But his reaction was maddeningly the same: basically, that Nat was just great, and what was I complaining about?<\/p>\n

It quickly became apparent that Nat\u2019s autism was very severe:\u00a0\u00a0unpredictable tantrums, barely functional language, a vacuum-like withdrawal. In the early days family gatherings snapped with tension and the anxiety that Nat would explode into unpredictable rage. Back then my husband and I attended any holiday or visit with fearful\u00a0expectation of having to pile ourselves back into the car at a\u00a0moment\u2019s notice, but my parents always begged us to come anyway. And we forced ourselves to, and face the specter of Nat\u2019s\u00a0volatile behavior year after year. The power of their unflagging, quiet insistence would swept us along, tsunami-like, carrying all of our messy uncertainty in its wake.<\/p>\n

But Dad\u2019s calm confidence \u2013 bordering on denial \u2013 was mixed for me.\u00a0\u00a0His attitude \u2013 and his success with Nat \u2013 made me feel at times like an overwrought, incompetent parent, and yet at other times, like a worshipful daughter. After all, his approach seemed to do the trick:\u00a0\u00a0when Nat was 4 Dad started getting him to do yard work for him. \u00a0When Nat was 8 Dad helped teach him how to ride a bike. When Nat hit his most difficult phases, at 11 and then at 17, he never once did anything to hurt or scare my father. \u00a0I can\u2019t say the same about the rest of us.<\/p>\n

I found myself thinking about Dad\u2019s singular skill with Nat \u2014 and his blind spot \u2014 when my parents visited us recently for the holidays. \u00a0Passover now takes\u00a0place at my house, because being on our own turf has proven to be an easy solution to some of our difficult family gatherings. This was a fairly typical Passover, with Nat hovering benignly over me while I cooked, making his usual endless walking loops around the living room and dining room. \u00a0Now 21, Nat has learned, at last (and after our frequent brave forays into the world)\u00a0 that he can be with people calmly, even enjoyably. \u00a0Especially if the gatherings include food. \u00a0This time, Mom brought double the amount of food that we needed, including three kinds of dessert, so Nat was especially excited. \u00a0Every now and then his self-talk would become giggles, which floated over to me and bathed me with relief and joy.<\/p>\n

Dad came in, loaded down with dog-eared copies of the Hagaddah (the Passover story and prayer book) and his lesson plan for leading the seder, complete with index cards and notes. And this year, Dad had one new item: a Hagaddah he had adapted for Nat so that he could really follow along and participate. \u00a0I loved the idea, though when I saw it, I grew skeptical over the many chicken-scrawled cues Dad had written for Nat. \u00a0Wasn\u2019t it a little too much hope packed into such a small space?<\/p>\n

A few hours before the seder was to begin, Dad sat down\u00a0with Nat to familiarize him with this pared-down Hagaddah. At one point I heard Dad quizzing Nat about the part of the seder where the family welcomes the spirit of the prophet Elijah into their home. Dad said, \u201cSo Nat, you open the door for who?\u201d
\n\u201cElijah,\u201d Nat answered dutifully.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you count, 1-2-3, and then \u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cClose the door.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c1-2-3,\u201d Dad repeated.<\/p>\n

At the seder he called on Nat several times, and Nat would read in his halting, uncertain voice. \u00a0\u201dThank you, Nat,\u201d Dad would say each time. \u00a0All evening, Nat remained his usually antsy self, bouncing in his chair while the rest of us slurped our soup and crackled matzah onto our plates; clearly he wanted out of there, but he has learned enough about how his extended family works to know to stay put. \u00a0And there were all those desserts to consider.<\/p>\n

Then the time came to open the door for Elijah. \u00a0At my father\u2019s cue, Nat sprang up and opened the door. Dad shouted \u201c1-2-3!\u201d but Nat had already slammed the door shut. I laughed softly at both Dad\u2019s zeal to get Nat to do the right thing \u2013 and Nat\u2019s equal zeal to resist.<\/p>\n

But Dad\u2019s smile declared victory, as if that was exactly what was supposed to happen. \u00a0Dad always has to be right.<\/p>\n

And yet, wasn\u2019t he? \u00a0As I watch my stubborn Dad and my irrepressible Nat, tarnished hope starts to sparkle and glow like old silver. \u00a0Why can\u2019t Dad\u2019s gauzy veil of denial actually be the truth? \u00a0Whose to say it isn\u2019t? \u00a0The door was opened. \u00a0It was shut again, sure, but the bottom line is: \u00a0a door has opened.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

June 22, 2011, 4:22 pm Grandfather Knows Best By LISA BELKIN Grandparents. It can be comforting to know our parents are there when we have kids, with wisdom and experience to share. It can be exasperating, too, that they assume they know best. As Susan Senator, author of \u201cThe Autism Mom\u2019s Survival Guide\u201d writes in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2082","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pSTth-xA","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2082","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2082"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2082\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2083,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2082\/revisions\/2083"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2082"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2082"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2082"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}