And the cow jumped over the moon

Jackson has a very special pillow.
We don’t go on any trip without it.
He doesn’t sit in his chair without it.
Well– truth be told it’s not really the PILLOW it’s a pillow CASE

Wait.

Let me go back about 7 years

Clay ( Jackson’s Daddy) is a MAJOR WWI history buff. Specifically the airplanes. He’s the type of guy that when you’re watching a movie says “Oh, that’s a Blah flippity blah blah but that couldn’t have flown THEN  because they hadn’t started production until…….”
Yeah. He’s THAT guy. So he had a t shirt that had an airplane on it. A WWII P40 to be exact. He LOVED this shirt, but it was wearing thin, and Clay was loathe to part with it because the design was so cool. No problem for a crafty dame like myself, I turned it into a simple t shirt pillow.

We weren’t prepared for Jackson to glom on to this pillow. But he did. It became HIS airplane pillow.

He sits in his chair and pats it.  He looks at the plane on it.  He asks for it.

It goes through a cycle of use, wash, repair, use, wash repair,repair repair.

All too soon the t shirt fabric is almost too thin to BE a pillow.  And the batting inside it matted and lumpy and misshapen from repeated washings.

Time to get creative again

I cut away everything BUT the airplane and salvage what I can.
I stabilize it ( oh how I love you SF101)  and affix it to a custom made pillow case that matches the colors and present it to Jack.

Thankfully it  passed the test. It’s been well over two years and its still going strong.

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But……… I have tried breaking the obsession.  I’ve tried introducing other pillows and pillow cases.  I want a back up.  I want something ELSE to be able to take the place……Just in case…

I’ve tried baseballs

I’ve tried Spongebob

Etc etc ad nauseum

I would place the pillow near him and I would get a resounding

Noooooo–ooooo
Loud and clear

But then. I found it

THE fabric that would TOTALLY captivate him!!

I smugly patted myself on the back, ordered the fabric and

TODAY made the pillow cases.

The fabrics? oh just…….Prints of Jacks all time favorite book Goodnight Moon ! Cows jumping over the moon! A red balloon in the great green room !! Pictures from the book.
Perfect images !!
RIGHT?! How much more perfect could it possibly be?!

You have to know–  there are at least 5 copies of Goodnight, moon! in this house.
2 ALWAYS within his reach.

I put one of the pillow cases on the spare pillow. I walk over to the chair.

He sees it and says, “Goodnight moon. La Luna”

I’m ecstatic
I put the pillow on his lap

He says, “No”

His respite worker says, “Jack , see it’s on your pillow – Goodnight moon on your pillow!”

He pushes it away and begins to make a noise that sounds like a vintage Plymouth trying to start on a cold morning.  His voice rises in pitch as he emphatically states . “Nooooo-oooooo!”  pronounced with several syllables.

I take the pillow away.

I am totally bummed  and I chalk it up to his obsession with the airplane pillow .
(Autism 1 Tina 0) I take pictures of the pillowcases and post on social media because I still think they’re pretty cool. And beautiful.

And that’s what we geek sewers do ☺️

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Now it’s night and   we are putting Jack to bed when I remember –” I gotta go retrieve Jacks pillows for bed — Aw heck. I’m not gonna put the old pillowcases back on. I’ll just leave the Goodnight Moon ones on. He never notices pillowcases on the bed.”

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Jack  is getting into bed and all we hear is:

“Daddy. The cow jumping over the moon. I see the circles. The moon. The moon. La Luna. The moon Daddy? I see the circles. The cow jumping over the moon.”

His hands would flap. He would look at his pillow case and smile. He was animated. He was communicating. He was engaged and engaging. He kept looking at us.  He kept looking at his pillowcase.  It  went on and on long after the lights went out.

I made him happy.

I made Jackson very, very happy when I had absolutely no expectation to do so and wasn’t trying to.

I wanted Jackson to want that pillow case for his chair and enjoy it it THERE .   He didn’t.

And in my shortsightedness, that’s where I let it end. But that’s not where JACK let it end.

I wonder how often we allow our expectations to limit our enjoyment of something.

I know for Jack , whose head is resting upon pictures of the cow jumping over the moon, who went to sleep saying “Tina the moon the moon the moon Tina “– He taught me -once again – to live in the moment.  Be open to all the joy that is out there.

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An open letter……..

As alot of you know…..we have just returned from a two week vacation where we traveled to Idaho and Utah to visit family.  It was lovely.   Jackson traveled very well. (with ALOT of pre-planning on our part!)

One of the highlights was visiting the Hill Aerospace MuseumImage

THIS, is an open letter to the woman that openly stopped and stared at Jackson at one point in our visit there.

Hello.
I understand that you might have been a little put off or uncomfortable with what you witnessed   at the Hill Air Force Air Museum.
Let me break it down for you so that you can put it in perspective.
My son , Jack, is autistic.
Jack loves, and I mean LOVES, helicopters and airplanes.  They are endlessly fascinating to him on many levels.  So that day he had reached Nirvana, Vallhalla, and Heaven all rolled into one.  It was bonus points that the hangar was cool and not brightly lit.  That echo?  A big draw, too!

And that cool ( to the touch) concrete floor was the coup de gras on that hot summer day.
He laid down on the floor so that he could see the propellers from his favorite angle:
LOOKING UP.

And that is why he yelled (at the top of his lungs) the word FAN.
What he did next was a sensory thing.  The floor was cool and slick and perfect to push oneself across on one’s back.  If YOU were a severely autistic child, YOU probably would have done the same thing.
Really.
You would have.
And it would have felt AWESOME!
Jackson, at that moment, was deliriously happy.

Now, my 13 year old self really wanted to say to you in a snippy voice:
“take a picture, it’ll last longer”

The grown woman/mother in me really would have liked you to have at least try to catch my eye.  Perhaps smile.  Maybe raise an eyebrow.  Even ask, “Is he ok?”

But no.
You openly stared.
You stood there.  You frowned.
You stared.

I thought about offering up the phrase “He’s autistic” as a way of explanation.
But decided against it.

You were closed.
You were not open to any information as far as I could tell.
You turned smartly on your heel and walked away.
My guess is that when you went home Jack and I became a dinner table story.  A cautionary tale- perhaps a narration of bad parenting.

And you know what?  It’s OK.  It really is.
Because Jack and I know the truth– and we had a really great time.