This Transition Can Bite Me

The last couple of weeks of summer have been, for me, packed with impending changes. Despite being on the autism spectrum, I do not hate change as a rule; it depends on what the change is, whether I have notice of its intentions to enter my life, and if I feel it’s necessary. In these circumstances, I knew it was coming, and I expected it, and to a point, I’m ready for it.

I’m ready for the boys to go back to school (they may agree, or have other ideas). But I’m not ready, literally, in terms of acquiring all the supplies they may need throughout the coming 10 months, or emotionally, in that I feel unprepared to have a 10th grader in my family.

For months now, I’ve been asking White Fang if he was ready to turn over his layout to Muffin. “The layout” is a combination of Thomas the Tank Engine tracks and accessories and trains, arranged in a minature version of the Island of Sodor, on which has also dwelled (since about 2015) Lego Minecraft servers and important Lego City vehicles or buildings. (The Arctic Ice Breaker and Weather Station is especially impressive.)

Anyway, Muffin has, off and on, eyed the layout with something approaching coveting, as he is now old enough to play with almost all of it (apart from some of the Lego sets where the box states ages 8 plus). A few times, a power struggle has almost resulted. The old guard and the new; the teenager harboring fond memories, and the preschooler wanting to take advantage of all these toys he hasn’t played with yet, right in his midst.

Then, this past week, I made one more proposition to White Fang: I will dismantle and rebuild the layout, appropriate for Muffin, packing away the Lego sets. Honestly, I was stunned when he said yes.

And so, I undertook this mammoth task (White Fang collected Legos from 2009-2016, and nearly all of them lived on his layout since Muffin was born). Across two days, I attacked that corner of the basement with at first enthusiasm and passion; then, a twinge of sadness; then, eventually, a feeling of relief (and a fair number of impolite phrases).

As I worked, I couldn’t help but flash back to the first time White Fang built each of these sets, the joy and pride on his face when he finished, and the care with which he brought the new addition to the basement and chose a place for it.

The lighthearted way he said to me a few days ago, “I can always rebuild them,” threw words like mature and growing up into my brain, and tightened my throat.

I’m not crying, you’re crying.

Although Muffin was at first reluctant (yes, after all that) to play with the new layout, he did, and enjoyed himself. Trains are not a huge passion for him, but he likes them, and the bridges and tunnels and pretending the engines are on a quest. So, while at this present moment the layout is resting, I know it will continue to be used in the future.

All my effort was worth it. As I anticipated it would be. I just didn’t expect…well, I didn’t expect to feel anything beyond sweaty and victorious.

Then there was the whole job interview/car shopping situation. These particular issues I haven’t mentioned here, partly because so much was up in the air, and trying to write about the in-progress stuff was turning me into a flailing, wailing, melting mess on the carpet. So, now that certain things have processed and concluded, here we go:

Since early 2016, I have been without a vehicle. I was driving an older sedan that was on its 8th life. Then, before I had Muffin, one bitterly cold winter day, I was on a country road, hit a patch of ice, and then a ditch. (And, yes, I was carrying Muffin in utero at the time. It was terrible.) After that, even with the (expensive) repairs, the car never ran quite right. And in January 2016, it reached a point of needing far more work done than we could handle; so we sent it to the scrap yard.

Hence, I have been walking everywhere, or somebody else’s passenger, for the last two and a half years. At first, it was all right; for probably the first 12 months, I didn’t complain. We couldn’t take on a car payment, and I was more concerned about my children having food and clothing. But bit by bit, this endless loop I’ve run to the post office and library and drugstore and back to my house has ground down my soul.

Last year, the pain of the endometriosis made pushing Muffin’s stroller up the hill practically unbearable. And I was really, really done with this walking setup. However, we weren’t in a financial position to get a second vehicle.

Fast forward to now, and the fact that the song-and-dance of looking at cars, getting a price estimate, and continuing to look had begun — and then suddenly escalated. There was a vehicle quite near home that was affordable. And it was in good condition. And available immediately. So the purchasing bit happened pretty fast.

A lot of this had to do with the job interview I also had this summer. My first one in a while, because many of the positions I’ve applied for since Muffin was about a year old have never gone beyond me submitting my resume and getting a flat-out no (it’s already filled, or I’m not what they’re looking for, or whatever). This situation felt different, promising.

However, nothing more positive happened. And I was gutted. This always happens anymore; there’s just something about me that either makes people wary, or that doesn’t sit totally comfortably with them. Even if I don’t tell them I have autism, I’m nowhere near as good at masking as I used to be; I honestly don’t have the energy for it I did 10 years ago. So, even for the people that can tell there’s something “quirky” about me and don’t mind, it frequently means they end up hiring somebody else.

I am so tired of feeling like I can’t get ahead. At least I will have access to a car for errands now. That’s little comfort, though, since I was planning out a commute to a part-time income.

To everything, there is a season. I won’t regret saying goodbye to the season of walking everywhere. But I was anticipating replacing it with an entirely different sort of season, and I will miss that.

In the midst of all this, I realized that there was a reason the books I bought with birthday gift cards felt familiar: I had already requested them from the library, and simply had to wait a while for those new releases. Now, they’re on their way to arriving at my local branch. Buyer’s remorse, I am thee.

Anybody interested in only paying $12 for “The Book of Speculation” by Erika Swyler, or “Mez’s Magic: The Lost Rainforest” by Eliot Schrefer? (I in fact got these titles mixed up with other stories, but now that they’re almost at the library, I will read them anyway, dang it.) Or for “Fawkes” by Nadine Brandes (I waited a long time for it, yes, but I don’t need 2 copies). And, yes, somehow I forgot I had already read “Children of Blood and Bone” by Toni Adeyemi. Any takers? I have Paypal; and I swear on my grandmother’s grave (yes, she is in Heaven, don’t worry) not to share your address with anybody other than the post office.

Also, because I need to focus on the good and remember what I have accomplished this year, I am running a sale for the remaining first editions of Masters and Beginners: Volume 1. Only $8 — yes, that includes shipping — per copy. If you’ve been meaning to start reading my YA fantasy series, this is a great time to go for it! All first editions feature precious Toby on the cover, and I’ll have signed it. And you can brag that you’ve chatted with the author and follow her blog. A heck of a deal, really.

My goal was to enter the finale of this summer with grace and skills. I did learn how to eat fried rice with chopsticks.

But otherwise, this transition can bite me.