So this is Christmas

The kids wait at the top of the stairs until we fill our mugs with coffee.

"You like to annoy us," Olive said on Christmas Eve when she asked if they weren't allowed to come downstairs right away in the morning.

"Of course, that's our job as parents."

We take our time. "Does anyone need to shave first?" I ask Nick and Bruce, remembering how my father deliberately, methodically, cleaned his chin, as I waited impatiently to open stocking gifts.

"Mom!" Olive rolls her eyes, but smiles, not yet so annoyed with her mother that she doesn't appreciate my humor.

Elias sits next to his younger sister with a big grin.

Like typical siblings, almost.

We wake to snow, finally, four inches of fluffy white powder so I tell them: "Santa didn't need to stop at our house, he gave us the best gift of all."

Their excitement for snow doesn't quite equal their anticipation for presents, so they refuse to believe that Santa missed Grandma and Pop's rooftop.  

They still believe in Santa. Or at least they don't want to stop believing--and so they fall into the magic of the holiday, searching for our Elf each morning, leaving cookies and thank you notes on Christmas Eve.

We finally release them from the top of the stairs and begin the ritual of unwrapping stocking gifts one at a time. Elias beams about gluten-free cake mix, Olive touches her gifts and guesses what they are before opening: "I have a feeling about this one," she says about the Nutella. Both kids genuinely get excited about new socks.

After stockings we gather around the table to eat an egg and bacon breakfast casserole with grapefruit and cinnamon toast. Olive says, "Know what my favorite three gifts are so far? The fact that it snowed, our family, and this food."

I'd like to end this post right here.

But the day continues.

More presents await under the tree. "Elias has a lot of big ones," Olive notices--she doesn't yet know a bike, too big to fit under the tree, waits in the garage.

Elias gets a new rolling backpack from my parents. Recycling bins from David. A Queen shirt from Pop. A new iPad cover from Santa. And of course the chrome garbage can with a sensor that I wrote about in my last post. He loves every gift. Says thank you appropriately. Wonders how we knew what he wanted.

Olive gets a soccer trainer that connects a ball to a bungee to a belt around her waist so she can kick it and the ball comes back to her-- and though its an outside toy, she practices all around the house for the rest of the day.

Can I please stop here?

We spend the afternoon outside in the snow. Nick and I ski around the neighborhood, pushing the elements a bit as we sink through the dry flakes to the gravel below, but eager to finally glide. Elias helps Pop clean off the cars and shovel the driveway. Olive goes in early to organize her gifts.

We all meet up in the kitchen where Olive asks Elias to trade some chocolate snowmen for Santas. They each received a gold box of European candy, eight pieces in each. Before Elias has fully decided Olive runs upstairs and gets his box for him.

"Don't open his box," I say and she quickly hands it to Elias. He studies the small piece of cardboard she started to tear.

He opens it and takes out four for the trade but then grabs his back.

"They are two different flavors," I say, "Nougat and Marzipan, so this way you get to try both."

"Oh," he says, a two letter word he uses often. They trade again. Elias tucks the snowmen from Olive next to his Santas and struggles to close the box.

"Do you need help?" I ask, sensing his tension rising and just wanting to put the box away and move on to Prime Rib and twice baked potatoes.

He pulls out the foil wrapped candies, stops, puts them back in the box, and this time successfully closes the flap.

And then it comes-- the brewing frustration turned rage. My smiling boy transforms into a hurricane, a tsunami, a bear, a monster who calls me Mom.

He rips his box of candy into pieces and reaches out to grab, scratch, crush anything in sight, which happens to be a fluffy tiger-colored cat named Simon who loves to sit on the counter.

Elias throws Simon across the kitchen, as Olive runs and shuts the family room door. Nick pins Elias to the floor, restraining his arms so he can't hurt anyone else. 

When Elias gets a hand free he grabs at my legs, Nick's face, as he says in his estranged voice, "Don't you ever do this again. Don't you sit on me! Or I'll..."

We just need you to be safe, we all say in a variety of ways, as Elias fights against his father's strength, as I put my hands on his head to try to calm him, as Elias's face turns red with effort, as he continues to hurl words of resistance. "I'm gonna hurt you! I'm gonna crush you!"

I see a scratch under Elias's eye from Simon and think, "At least the cat got him too."

So this is Christmas.

Elias finally settles when Pop comes down from the shower and asks him to sit by the fire. He slumps into a chair, eyes down, fingers in mouth. I join Olive and Grandma in the family room.

Olive shows me how she barricaded the door when she heard Elias's voice change. We talk about self-defense techniques if he ever grabs her, especially around the neck.  We talk about Elias's triggers, like maybe the sound and movement of the soccer ball banging against things all day. Maybe just the box opening. We talk about the affects of trauma on a nervous system.

"So Elias remembers being born?" Olive asks when I tell her how traumatic his birth and first few months of life were. "No, but his body does."

"Combine that with the autism part of him that likes things a certain way, that can be rigid, even if it doesn't make sense to us. Like most kids would love to trade candy and try different kinds but maybe to Elias the candy is suppose to stay in the gold box. He might have never opened it."

Olive remembers Elias getting mad at Nick for opening a box of protein bars the "wrong" way. "And remember the toothbrush, when he wanted me to put it back in the packaging?" I say.

Olive tells Grandma the story and the time he got mad about the sock and I want to laugh and cry all at once because this is our Christmas too.

"You do know that he doesn't really want to hurt us, even when he tries to, even when says he does, you know this right?" I say to Olive, but also for me and Kathy, for Nick and Bruce in the other room, for his school principal who saw me in the hall at the middle school earlier this month and yelled--Christy, Elias is getting violent at the high school, run--for all the onlookers who stare as a teenage boy turns into a storm, for the police officer who someday might need to respond.

You do know that he doesn't really want to hurt us, even when he tries to, even when says he does, you know this right?

For Elias, who later, when the wind stops howling, says, with tears in his eyes: "I don't know why I did that."

I don't know why.

But this is Christmas too. 

Comments

[Mary miller]

Love you guys ♥️

[Ginna]

Love to you. Merry all the ways Christmas is Christmas. Big hugs to everyone. ❤️

[Christy]

Ah, love you both to the moon and back!

[Sarah Spanos]

Oh Christy, I devoured your words much slower today anticipating a different ending. Through the tears I finished and my heart aches for all of you. Elias is such a great kid, I just see he is a bit more complicated than most of us. Big hugs to his little sister, life is confusing enough so add this on top of it to a young teenager. I am wiping my tears and know that even though life isn't perfect, you and Nick are giving your kids the best life possible. I am at work today, if you remember how to get there, lol, stop by for a hug on your way into town...I'll have one waiting for you.

[Julie]

Thank you for writing this. I don't know if it helps at all but I can relate to portions of what you have written. Our daughter was often violent and we physically restrained her at times for the safety of all involved. It is not easy.
I will say that I don't know what your mental health options are but we found an awesome family therapist who does TheraPlay as well as EMDR--which has beneficial to us as parents needing to release some PTSD from the whole thing--as well as similar benefits for siblings.
sending you love and peace
Julie A

[Christy]

Sarah, I would have loved a hug from you if the timing worked.thank you for your words, your support, and your friendship, it means a lot. Cheers, my friend.

Julie, I do think we all have PTSD from this and have been interested in EMDR from the positive benefits I've heard. Not sure if it is available in Seward but your words are a good reminder for me to look into mental health options for all of us. I tend to soldier on and not take the time I recommend to others. Thank you for understanding and love and peace to you too.

[Justine Pechuzal]

Thanks for sharing Christy. No easy answers, but you, Elias, and your family move forward with grace.

[Sheila Morrow]

Elias, in his very complex ways, is nurturing two amazing parents and a very special sister. Such strength and compassion.

[christy]

Sheila I love this way of looking at it, thank you for your words. And Justine in the thick of it grace is the last thing I feel but with time to reflect it comes, thanks friend.