lifeslikethis

Adopted: Betwixted and be Tween

2011-12-19T17:54:00.000-08:00

My son Builder is adopted. He has known he was adopted ever since he can remember. He knows his brother Bounce grew in my tummy. At three, he told me clearly, I was not his mother. I quickly informed him, although he grew in another Mommy's tummy; (f.y.i., much better toddler word choice than "birth parent" which I had used earlier with him...) I was his mom and his dad and I were very much definitely his parents. Throughout the years we have made a life book, talked about his birthparents, and written letters to them. It is a closed adoption so there are no replies or answers. I wish there were, to give Builder some more information about his "relatives." Maybe as a tween trying to figure out who your are, it would be helpful to have some extra people around to relate.
He is twelve now. Builder is full of ideas of who should be the boss, not us. Who should care, not us. And the daily "Why should I's" or "That's not my problem." He vocally states he doesn't want a brother, his actions reveal he doesn't want a mother, he recognizes he needs a father or perhaps just some adult to help him on his way to independence.
This incredible bravado is hard on the brother, mother, and father. And often the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We just want him to sort of like us and enjoy being around us. Is it really that hard? I do wonder. I know this is completely normal adolescent behavior. Tweens are trying their best to separate from their parents and childhood roles. But sometimes it seems amplified. Is it because of his Asperger's, ADHD, or being adopted? I am not adopted. I don't know how it feels. Tons of research and testimonials say it can be difficult. Maybe I should ask my younger sister. The sister, a year younger than me, that I didn't so much enjoy at my heels growing up. The one I often told, she was adopted, even though she wasn't. After all, there were no pictures of her until she turned two.

How to Handle Birthday Bullies? Or My Child’s Frenemies.

2011-11-28T15:53:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, I know my son is bullied at school. I also know much of the time he probably doesn’t even know he is being bullied or made fun of by his “friends.” He has Asperger’s and ADHD. Understanding social cues and subtle facial gestures is difficult for my sixth grade boy.
I know fully that my son is often inappropriate with the words and actions he uses. However, my son is never mean spirited. He may be callous, cold, and unthinking. He may be insensitive and unresponsive to someone else’s pain, but he never tries to purposely cause it.
Through conversations with my other son, who is neurotypical and a year behind his brother in school, I am informed of the hostile acts and words said to my older son at recess or in the lunch room. Amazingly, my older son believes these other children in his grade are his friends. Ironically, the school staff also believes these other children are my son’s friends.
Well, I don’t. I know some of the children in my son’s grade are bullies. Their acts are planned out, cruel, and intended to be mean. I have seen my son’s face when he knows the Number One bully will be at an event he is going to attend. His face shows extreme fear even as he says hello to the other boy. He thinks they are still his friends. It has become apparent to me they are actually frenemies. By acting as friends, they can further target their acts.
Today, the bullies left the school yard and came to our home. Today was also my son’s 12th birthday. His “friends” decided to put shaving cream in our mailbox, on our cars, pumpkin decorations, and on the driveway. They had made an X, but after some internet research, I think they might have been trying to make a much darker symbol. Because we live in a small town, my husband managed to track the boys down quickly, report their “mischief” to their parents, and have the boys clean up the mess. Mostly.
The two offenders couldn’t erase the mess they had made of my son’s birth day. They couldn’t clean up my younger son’s dismay when he found out who did it and why he thinks they did it. The boys also were not able to get rid of the disgust I feel when I see them on the street skateboarding away.
I wonder if I should follow up. Do I call or email to let their parents know how glad I am the boys did make an effort to make reparations for their actions? Do I also call to say; by the way, what your boys did is vandalism? They could pay a fine up to $250,000 or spend three years in prison. Of course, they would not at this age, too many people are looking the other way when children misbehave, including my son, and often the bullies’ parents.

His Bark is Much Worse Than His Bite

2011-10-06T18:25:00.000-07:00

So if you are parenting a child on the autism spectrum, you know your child perceives minor wounds as extremely serious and major wounds as insignificant. Well, parenting the Asperger’s child, you might also know they perceive minor insults as astronomical and major insults as nothing.
Example: your child smashes into doorway head first, gashing open head, remains calm and is fine. Your child accidentally trips on rug, no injury, and is devastated, crying hysterically. As the children get older, it is even more mind-boggling. Nope, the bloody wipe out on the skateboard didn’t hurt; but the imaginary bee sting he didn’t really get is killing him.
As a parent of such child of conundrums, I prepare. He loves bandages, band aids, and medical tape. He often sports medical aids found at Walgreens including ankle supports, wrist bands, and the occasional eye patch.
I am always on a first name basis with the school nurse. I know he uses her office as a refuge from the assault of school life. My little sister always did when she was younger . Apparently she needed the support and break from the classroom. For me, a germaphobe, I would really rather die, than lie on one of those scary cots in a room with no windows. Not my son, I fully expect the daily 10am call. Sure, He can have an Advil, Benedryl, and Calamine. It is the ABCs of nursing a needy child.
However, last week, he actually gave me cause for concern. Almost. He was skateboarding at a nearby park. Within minutes he had returned, crying, yelling, and swearing. A dog had bitten his wrist while skateboarding. Scary, right? Except he was wearing a fleece jacket. And when I checked “the bite” there wasn’t one. But he was very upset. He told me he swore at the dog and told the dog he was going to tear its ears off if he bites him again. He also told me he swore at the owner who had let the dog off leash.
I remained calm. I asked if he was OK first of all. Second, I checked the non-wound and acknowledged its alleged presence. Next, I asked if he truly said those things to the owner of the dog. I admit I crossed my fingers behind my back and thought, “surely not.” He replied, “No, but I thought them.” Hallelujah. Progress.
Progress. Therefore, I felt a need to make sure the dog had no rabies, had its shots, even though there was no wound. I wanted to acknowledge Builder’s obviously scary event. But not build it up or give the incident too much power. On the condition, Builder would stay in the car, we found the owner, or actually the owner’s friends and all the facts were cleared up. Including the bite and the bark.

ABCs and IEPs

2011-05-26T18:53:00.001-07:00

Just hopped off my broom from my recent IEP meeting with Builder's school. I haven't been too pleased with this year. His teacher interpreted accommodations to mean lowered expectations and in general his teaching philosophy is "whatever." The lack of accountability coupled with my tween's attitude of "whatever" meant no one cared, except my husband and I. And on the really bad nights where numero uno son did not want to do any homework, had thrown his math workbook in the trash, or lied again about the school website homework information being wrong, we too were at "whatever." It is so easy to go there. I really want to, I know he will still pass. Kinda easily, if he never does one more minute of homework at home. (What a glorious thought that is!) But, it isn't O.K., although in my own heart of hearts, I want to free every parent from homework across the nation.
Yes. I could so easily be elected president.
Yes. We want to teach him responsibility. But does it have to be about homework?
Yes. We want him to want to achieve. But does that mean via his homework?
Do we want him to have good study habits? Yes. But can't that be about topics he cares about?
And finally, do I want him to not take a foreign language or band and have two study halls? Yes. We want our tax dollars at work. Homework.

New Year, New game plan

2011-01-21T18:42:00.000-08:00

1. I can't believe my last post was in November.
2. But really I can. It seems like the boys haven't been to school very much in the past 8 weeks with all the vacation days and holidays.
3. I don't really like to write about when things are challenging to me. Who wants to just complain and rant?
4. Things have been challenging around here.

I have decide there is a definite ebb and flow to my Builder's mood swings and behavior. But that is as far as I have gotten. Does it correlate with the moon stages? Does it more correlate with his diet and increased wheat intake? Is he just a terrible tween right now? Is the pressure of behaving at school too much for him that he comes home and we all who love him unconditionally get to be sprayed with his frustrations with life in general? Either way it isn't pretty and doesn't make good copy.
Luckily, I have been taking care of myself and reading lots of books for me. I love memoirs of any sort and read them by the truckload. Because the secret of a good memoir is your life has been hard and full of characters who really were selfish. Plus, these authors have made it out of their life trenches and gained wisdom they are now freely passing on to you! It is a beautiful thing.
This month I have learned, the less you control others, the more control you get and you are responsible for your own happiness. Pretty powerful statements. And the best thing about them, these tidbits of advice are pretty easy to implement into your own life. I do not need to depend on the moon stage, my diet, my students' lack of turning in homework, I just need to breathe and realize my child is who he is. He can go to school looking like Pee Wee Herman (a botched attempt at a home made Mohawk) and still live amid the taunts of his classmates. He can swear at me when he is angry and I cannot take it personally and realize he is frustrated by not understanding his world. I can hold him accountable when he is less angry hours later. I can also give myself credit for being the best mom I can be even if I don't always deserve the title.

Guilty as Charged

2010-11-14T15:19:00.000-08:00

The problem with writing your thoughts down on paper or computer, is someday, someone might read them. Or in the case of a blog, you either really want many people to read it or you at least, like myself, kinda want someone, at least one, to read it and relate. However, you are fully aware it is writing being made public on the Internet for anyone to see. It is the exact opposite of my sixth grade notebook writings that were carefully hidden under my mattress. The only audience of those twelve-year-old laments was supposed to be me. Except for the time my mom found it and she cried.

Now, dear reader, you will see what I have been charged with in my latest writing class. A veteran, published author of personal essays has suggested that perhaps my essays, "share the beginnings of real emotion...but stop short of real disclosure." Hmmm...well, maybe. She suggested, "Have I always been a self-sufficient person and therefore asking for help is hard?" Well, I haven't spent much time thinking about that until she asked...but, yes, guilty as charged. Getting feedback on a personal essay gets pretty personal awfully darn fast. I think, I feel, if I ask for help, then I am not succeeding. Or upon further thought, I am not perfect. Not perfect as in perfection, but my all is not good enough. And as a parent of a particularly challenging child on a daily basis, I almost always feel like my all isn't good enough. Now, isn't that the truth?
I wish I could ask my mom if all parents feel like "giving their all" isn't good enough on a lot of days. I know she felt it, the day she read in my notebook, I didn't like her.

1-2-3 magic

2010-11-04T06:38:00.000-07:00

The title of this post makes me smile because it is also the title of one of the first books I bought to help me parent when I had an eighteen month old. I had actually ordered three books in a desperate attempt to add some positive discipline and order to the daily rebellion. I was embarrassed enough having to order the books. As an experienced elementary teacher and veteran babysitter, I had believed this parenting stuff to be a walk through the park. And it had been. Until Builder started walking and talking. Strong-willed and spirited child is what the experts like to call these children. My mom and dad would call it payback for my teenage years. But really, I was desperate. The days were getting harder and harder. So, I ordered up some books that were promptly delivered to my neighbor, who opened them, and then delivered them to me. "I think these are yours"...they couldn't possibly be for me , I have 3 girls. Great, I thought, the whole 'hood knows I can't parent. As if they hadn't seen my desperate actions in stores or at the park. At any rate, I read those first books, tried it out, and quickly ordered more heavy duty tomes. My early favorite, quickly dismissed, was the 1-2-3 Magic book...all you really needed to say was 1 - 2 and by the time you got to 3, why gosh darn if the child wasn't supposed to be behaving. Ha. As a teacher, I already knew to count DOWN from three because, the clever kids knew you could count up forever, but always knew you needed to end at zero. I then ordered more books and consulted more experts. The prescription from all of these professionals was usually the same. Add more parent to the child. Play their way. Five positives for every correction. Empathy, then read them the rights. Advice much more constructive and understanding to combat their ferocious need to control their world. However, I have recently gone back to adding some 1-2-3 magic my way. If we need to clean Builder's room, I "pre-clean" it. (Think toss one garbage bag worth out before cleaning the room together) Adding a reference source to help him finish some super hard homework..I supply it. (Think 15 words that have "war" in them) And of course the best way to use 1-2-3 magic is to count them in your head very, very slowly as you decide to turn and walk away from the arguments, defiance, or mess.

Building Strengths for Builder

2010-09-23T19:12:00.000-07:00

I am usually seeking, finding, investigating the next step, therapy, or group my son needs. But not anymore. I am looking and finding activities that suit his personality and interests. He is now eleven. Well, not really, but that is what age he tells he is to everyone he meets. I am trying to be attuned to his interests and wants. It is a teeter-totter act. I think. Negotiating with these independent thinkers, we call middle schoolers. It is the fine balance of suggestion and knowledge of your child. Some suggestions will be met with rolled eyes and an "OMG." And some will be met with a "really? cool." But it is up to us as parents to present these opportunities to our kids so they can find a strength, a stress outlet, a friend. This week it is a create and skate class...paint and individualize your skateboard. It's cool.

Oatmeal in the litterbox and other moments

2010-09-03T19:18:00.000-07:00

What does oatmeal in the litter box, a bike without its wheels, and a guitar case made of duct tape all have in common? You are correct, nothing much. Nope, it is not the punch line to the latest Internet joke. It is simply a sample of the various events of my week here at home. And the boys were in school most of the hours of the week. Actually, all of these situations were produced by Builder. Here is why. In order to build a super rocket you need a bigger size cylinder, an oatmeal box or two. Does it really matter if they are full? No, not if you need them at 6AM before any parent is awake and you find a handy spot to hide the oatmeal. How can you possible build a ski bike if the bike still has wheels? You can't. Remove wheels immediately. Dismantle cross-country skis, attach to bike frame with duct tape. Wait for snow. Does it really matter if it happens to be your younger brother's bike? No, of course not! In fact all the better to leave your own bike intact. You have a case your electric guitar came in that is cloth and soft sided. You have seen real guitar cases that are solid, hard-sided, with handles. What better use for the multiple card boxes and duct tape you have stocked up in the past week? None. Let the projects continue, right after you vacuum up the oatmeal from behind the cat box.

Blog because...

2010-08-24T19:05:00.000-07:00

I started this blog as a place to do some prewriting, thinking, and venting...hence it is a blog. It seemed self-indulgent and kind of silly. However, when it was eventually shared with my one to five people audience, it was well received. Primarily by the target audience it was intended for...moms and dads struggling with the unbelievable task of parenting a special needs child who requires an inordinate amount of time, patience, and grace. It is a nonstop, 24 hour challenge, pocketed with even more difficult situations and experiences you could have never ever imagined. Yet, here we sit and sigh. We are blessed with a child who sleeps all night. So many others in this boat have children who rarely sleep. I pray for those parents daily. The point is this blog may ramble, rant, and occasionally be nonsensical. However, this blog is a celebration of one more day, week, month of progress. Even if I don't always see that daily, weekly or monthly.

Rock On?

2010-08-08T17:21:00.000-07:00

So one of the activities Builder and I love to do together is garage sales. We have since he was one, pretty much every toy, baby accessory, clothing he wore was purchased at a garage sale with a big grin on my face. Awesome, I always thought as I dragged the collapsible play tunnels, high chairs, and cozy coupes home. Because we didn't pay full price for it we had more of it. Not such a good practice. However, this past Saturday, I went garage sale haunting with my ever needy Builder. It is a dangerous combination, bargain hunting mom and kid who desires everything. We only hit two...that's the lingo. But we came home with an electric guitar, amp, roller blades, travel bag (that maybe a cat urinated on, did not know that until it sat in my car overnight), snow pants for Bounce, and some dress shoes for Builder two years from now. Forty bucks later, it does all sound crazy to me!!! What was I thinking? An amp? Apparently it is just one more thing Builder and I can argue over. The shoes? He has informed me he is never going to a social dance in sixth grade with girls...apparently he can barf on demand. Who knew? Although I think he did try it last night to avoid going to bed...However, all that being said, he loves his electric guitar. It really is so him. And I knew it would be. We strive endlessly to find the paths he might be successful in even if it is not our first choice. My son loves to be center stage. We call him our "shock jock". I guess I would rather raise Bon Jovi than Howard Stern. I can live with rocker with an attitude. OK,turn it up, but eventually turn it down. I am sure his first song he writes will about the massive oppression he lives under as we require him to not swear, be nice, and have some respect for others. My question is...will I at least make the liner notes?

Summertime and the living is easy?

2010-07-23T20:11:00.000-07:00

Summer..not so fun for parents like me. Unstructured days mean really hard work for us special needs parents. For example, today, my ten year old and I (he is more 5 developmentally) set up fishing and paper mache, went to Target and cleaned the back room. And of those activities got us to noon. I advocated for calling for play dates. But, he knows like I do, there are none to be found. I am his play date and he knows it. Briefly, there was an opportunity for him to go with his brother on a group play date, but I chose to have his brother away from Builder for that brief time. Bounce needed the break from his brother more than Builder needed the play date. These are the decisions we make every day about our unique children. These are the decisions no one else knows we make. They are brokered by silent rules of who has been the most damaged by the recent outbursts, arguments, or activities.
Another mom and I took all the kids plus some extras to the pool at four. I forced Builder to go after he had set himself up with a cooler filled with water and his legs inside. He was hot. I had already told him no, but that is never a deterrent to him. He didn't want to go to the pool, but I told him he had to go with us. He loved it. He got to play in the water, mostly with his mom.

Big Sigh

2010-06-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

I know I was difficult at eleven. Rolled eyes, big sighs, and the very clear implication my mom was the dumbest person on earth. It wasn't enough I would perform those actions and blatant disrespect in front of her, I also journaled about it. Some things never change, I guess. Here I am venting about being on the other side; even as I clearly remember those feelings of Tweenness. I really thought I would handle it better being on the other side. As the mom, I am handling well enough, smiling through most of it. Providing empathy as appropriate, or just walking away from the disdain. Or sending the disdain back to his room. On the occasions I confront him about his super disrespect or inappropriate tone/manner, I am greeted by "OK, smart one." Well...now we are getting somewhere I think to myself. I believe he is trying to call me a "smart aleck" but his Aspie brain just won't let him. He doesn't have a definition for aleck. And truly, neither do I. The only Alec I knew was in college and really a very nice young man. Never disrespectful. However, a smart alec is someone very smart or clever, and at times irritating. I am guessing "smart one" has the same definition in my son's book. And my mom's. Big sigh. Sorry mom.

Understanding

2010-05-12T20:03:00.000-07:00

One of the issues parents face when they are dealing with their child's issues is who, what, and how to help with the current situations. All potential help options costs lots of dollars. Primarily, not reimbursed from insurance. Yet, the child still needs the recommended therapies.
We have investigated and done most of the available ones out there. At this point in the game, I find it ironic, experts still feel like they know what is best for my child. They are convinced there is an easy or doable fix. I also find it a whole lot disheartening to me, as the mom.
I have spent the better part of the last eight years of my life trying to figure out my child. I know him. I know what works and what doesn't. In the old days, I never took it personally when someone was trying to help us. As my step-mom and I agreed, no stone unturned, until we figured this out. So, our wallets were emptied via occupational therapy, psychological therapy, psychiatric therapy, neuropathy, vision therapy, social skills, and IEPs. Many of those therapies helped Builder, some helped me, some of that money would have been spent at the track for all the good it did.
Now, I am much more discriminating. We cannot afford to go down the ineffective path, emotionally, financially, or behaviorally. It is too uncharted and precarious.
There is a hard fact many people don't know. The therapists are befuddled by these unorthodox children. They have never before seen a situation like ours. Thus, we, as parents, get blamed. Shamed. Scolded. We happen to have another child living in our home, one year younger. He is a typical child. Way easier, not perfect, but doesn't need interventions. He just needs compassion and understanding of the brother and home life he has. So do his parents.

Mom's Away, Boys Will Play

2010-05-01T19:10:00.000-07:00

I am gone for three whole days and I know my boys are celebrating. All of them. Finally, there will be no one asking why X,Y, and Z are not done. And wondering when the P, Q, and R will be finished, so we can all enjoy some M and Ms.
I admit, I am all about having dinners in a timely manner, homework done, laundry put away, and bedtime early. Why? Because our children, mainly Builder needs a structured, predictable environment. He also needs an on-time bedtime and limited amounts of sugar. I am not kidding when I say, well he's acting this way because he is super tired and super-sugared. He didn't get enough sleep.
I am the mom and I take the fall for most things. Why is the reading log never done? Where is that gym shirt? Why can't we have a bag of marshmallows for dinner? I am the resident buzz-kill. I am OK with it. Mostly. I say No, I ask Why, What are your plans for that pocket knife, and I say I Don't Think So. Well, until I am gone. Out of town on a a much needed girls' weekend. My only thought at the end of the day is, I hope they are home safe, put sunscreen on, and brushed their teeth. I fall asleep probably only one of those ideals have been met.

Little Man

2010-04-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

My recent blog was dedicated to a fellow mom in the trenches. She was/is inspiring to me. So is my youngest son. No labels, no extraordinary issues, he is what most parents have, a neurotypical child with typical developmental patterns. He is also (self-described) as kind, generous, and giving. He is. Always has been.
I used to hope and pray for a child who is like my husband. I got it. He is kind, patient, friendly and nice to all. His usual state of mind is happy.
Bounce just happens to look more like my side of the family. Not to say, he didn't get some of my traits. He did...like stubbornness, determination, or crabby when hungry. Plus, run away, when mad, sad, or tired of it all.
However, like my husband and I, he also got persevere in tough times. He sticks around and goes with the flow. He believes in the best and cries over the worst. We all do. WE ALWAYS HOPE AND PRAY. Odd, that wasn't supposed to be all caps and was. Strange. I am leaving it. Because I believe in it. However, I digress.
I asked Bounce the other day if he could handle another child who had anger issues and threw tantrums. He replied, quickly and easily, "Of course, I'm used to it." I knew what he meant. We are used to it, the perpetual unpredictability of Builder combined with the constant thought what's next? Builder is so much better than before; but still has a long way to go. His behavior can be extremely trying. But we know he doesn't mean it. He would be the first to protect us from harm. His daily antics, experiments, and outbursts? We can take it. We know how to deal with it. It is not typical for most families. It is for ours.
Bounce has long been known as "Little Man", I think he is deserving of his title.

Sandy

2010-04-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

When you have a child with special needs, you sit in a lot of waiting rooms. Often. Sometimes every week, sometimes all year long. While your child gets the amazing therapy he/she needs to succeed in life, you wait.
If you are like me, you could try to run one errand, try to read a book, or clean out your purse in each fifty minute slot. But, really, you can't do those actions every week. Some weeks you are so tired, you could sleep in the waiting room on the hard plastic chair. Some weeks you are so keyed up, you could easily lead a marching band through the room. Other weeks, the weather is so awful, you are just happy to sit quietly.
For the siblings of the child in therapy, you prepare. You play, you cajole, they usually meet other waiting sibs and depending on those children's social skills...you intervene and read your child a book or let your child deal with it.
Sometimes you meet another mom with the same time slot or waiting for the same group your child is attending because so is their child. If it is the latter, you have a great deal to talk about and share. It is the "free" therapy session for the moms of these unique kids.
Sometimes, you meet a mom who is meeting the daily challenges of her child with grace and magnificence. She is still smiling and making jokes. She is kind and friendly to your other children. She is interested in you, your life, and your child. She is one of the few moms who you know immediately understands your life.
She can nod in agreement with how you handled a potentially, truly, explosive moment and share back a tip of how she handled the same scene with her son. You will nod in agreement at how sometimes her husband isn't exactly on board with the latest parenting method or class.
You are amazed even your non-child experiences are the same. You have both been let go of jobs because of ill-tempered supervisors, you are the same age, she wants to become a teacher and you have been a teacher in your prior life.
She is the friend you will have over for coffee some morning or a drink some summer night. You haven't yet asked her; because every week you know how busy her schedule is and truthfully, so is yours. Se leads the entire Cub Scout troop for her child's school. She meets with her son's teachers to help them help her child. She is like you. Tireless and committed to her son and her community. She is an amazing mom that you admire. You are so glad to see her smiling, seated across from you every week in a waiting room of hard chairs.

Shockingly, Sandy passed away suddenly last week. She will be missed by so many.
This post is dedicated to Sandy Meinholz, her husband, and her son, Trevor.

What It Is

2010-03-21T17:34:00.000-07:00

Last month, I had my car window smashed in and my purse stolen. I know better than to leave my purse in the car; but I thought I was in a safe area. I thought, of course it could happen- but it won't. But it did. I was upset and shocked.
However, you quickly get over it. Simply because you have to. There are phone calls to make and cards to be canceled. You just deal and ride home a little bit more breezy than you might have liked.
Thinking more on it...it is very similar to how we deal with a diagnosis of autism or ADHD or whatever else is thrown our way. You deal with it. You start making phone calls. You deal with it immediately and the many months after.
You are upset and a bit dismayed that this situation has happened to you. It is not what you expected to deal with at all. You have always taken every precaution so this type of situation wouldn't happen.
But it does. And it did. And it has changed you. It changes how you interact with everyone else in the world.
You view the world differently than others. You take nothing for granted. You understand when parents talk to their children what they are really thinking and feeling. You know why children are behaving certain ways and why they are not. You have examined every parenting book known to mankind. Your knowledge base is extreme parenting. You want to offer advice, help, and encouragement. But only in small doses so as not to seem obnoxious.
In an effort to help you understand your own child, you now understand most children; yet still not always your own. However, you get it. You understand the others now. It is what is.

Good Work

2010-03-11T18:51:00.000-08:00

Tonight Builder was busy on the computer. Not unusual. He is usually looking for the newest product he can buy or build. Often, it is the Obsession of the Week, any item he has seen somewhere,or heard of, and must have immediately.
Tonight, he had printed out copies of a rat playing a saxophone. That's right, sax playing rat. Real rat, tiny sax. I saw the photo. Very real.
He was busy writing a note to his fellow sax playing classmate. "You are a realy good sax player." He then included the picture of the talented rat and sealed it up.
I helped him with spelling and added some paper clips for him. I believe it was one of his first gestures to show appreciation for someone else's talents. I know he is impressed his friend can play the Sponge Bob Square Pants song. What I don't know is if he realizes how much his friend will appreciate this gesture.
Builder is still very concrete in his thinking. Friend is good sax player-tell him he is good. He doesn't have the concept of good deeds lead to good will.
I don't think he realizes the many opportunities for telling someone they are a good sax player. He just sees it as it is.
Do most of realize the value of a good compliment? I always try to compliment the fast cashier, the person in front of me in line, or the phone operator who was helpful. I think it is harder to do with the people you know and see all the time. Because you know them and see them all the time. Just for this week, try to tell them a trait or talent they have that you admire-- in honor of Builder.

A Tween Day in School

2010-02-08T20:10:00.001-08:00

Today I spent the day as an eighth grade student. All day in school. Started at 8:15...finished at 2:15. As part of my middle school course training, I had to to shadow a eighth grader. I happened to shadow a really happy, outgoing, friendly adolescent. The opposite of me in middle school. By the way, we called it junior high then, and we all were left to fend for ourselves on our own.
What I realized is important. It is a long day and they sit on very hard chairs. When I taught, I was always moving and leading the class in some way. Most days I got them moving. I now apologize for any day we didn't get out of our seats at least for a bit.
Some teachers are really not so good. Without a lesson plan, the class unravels into a free-for-all. Other teachers make you want to stay in their room all day.
And for parents everywhere... "we" (tweens) want rules, structure, and a game plan. It completely relieves our anxiety and need to perform. We hate a gap in the day's structure. We will fill it with noise, chaos, or technology, or just obnoxious comments.
If your child comes home from school stressed out. It might not be their fault. It is difficult to sit in a 50 minute class with an ineffective teacher. It is really boring. Also very loud. I felt anxiety after three classes of kids yelling out and teachers responding with inane comments.
Lunch? Not so relaxing. I barely had time to eat 1/2 of my lunch. No time to head to the bathroom if I wanted to be on time.
From class to class, I primarily sat in a chair. Mostly bored. The good teachers were great and my mind was busy the whole time. I felt good after being in those classes. I felt I had something to share or pursue. For example, if your child has a good teacher this year, send them a thank you and tell themm what they are doing right for your child. If your child doesn't have a good teacher this year, send them a note saying these kids just can't sit in a chair for more than 20 minutes.

Love You Forever

2010-02-04T17:58:00.001-08:00

As many of you know...I love the book Love You Forever. I really cannot ever read it without tearing up. Ever. I know, as much as I "blog", I know what the B stands for...I already miss these days. Just like I already miss those days that were so long and so busy and so filled with the constant needs of little kids. I miss strollers; they kept them captive. I miss car seats; they limited movement. I miss Mommy and Me classes...not really at all, ever. I do miss art at Wilmette Community Center with Jan. But, I miss Mommy and Me. Naps. Hugs. Pulling them out of the car enabled you to kiss them quick.
So, here is a fun game to play using the book, Love You Forever. Last Spring, Builder and I played Bingo at the school fair for about four hours. The first prize he grabbed..and I knew he would...I guess I do have hope...was a stuffed bunny that looked identical to the bunny in Love You Forever. Needless to say, I was thrilled.
He took the bunny to overnight camp and sleeps with it every night. He really does love me? Maybe? So, tonight, he took the bunny and threw it at me from his loft bed. I threw it back and said, "Love You Forever." He smiled and threw it back and said, "Love You Forever." I threw it back and said, "Love You Forever...even though you say swear words at me." And so it went...back and forth. He loved it. I was acknowledging that he does a lot of really trying behaviors...but we still love him. He tried to come up with reasons to fault me or not like me..but luckily he couldn't. Well at least they were not fact based.
Here's to hope. And acknowledging the bad behavior is not acceptable. And that the child within is.

Boy-o-BoY

2010-01-22T14:25:00.000-08:00

Boy-o-Boy...emphasis on the Y. The Y chromosome that is. You know the cute expression, "He's all boy!" I now know what this means. To be clear, I am not soliciting for sympathy, pity, or a straight jacket. I have always wanted all boys, 4 of 'em. I now have 2, but if I apply the Builder multiplier, it feels more like 11.
I grew up with girls, but my best buds were often boys. I hitched along on the coattails of older boys as the "adopted" little sis in high school. In my opinion, boys were just better than girls. Simple. No tricks, games, deceit, chit-chat, or gossip. Plus, they were always doing fun things like switching street signs late at night or park district pool hopping.
As a mom of young boys, I got over my initial intimidation of their tremndous energy when I saw how easy it was to entertain them. Spin some wheels, crash some cars, and make a new train track everyday. Combine that with 90% time spent outdoors in mud, sand, or snow and there's the day.
But now, they are nine and ten. I'm not good at video games or disassembling explosives. Plus, they have their own agendas. The essence of boy...which is really-- "Who cares?" is coming out. They would rather be with friends or investigating new ways to throw something into trees.
Put away laundry? Lift the seat? Flush? Wash hands? Homework? Why bother?
I am convinced those with the Y chromosome live fully in 5 minute increments of time. Anything before or after that...seems...so..so what. It's over. It's a little hard to live with on a daily basis. But I am trying.
Because really, daily hygiene versus planning the next big experiment or life-threatening adventure? The answer is always Y Not? Y not try to drill the top of pen cap on top of the fabric couch in the family room?

10 in 2010

2010-01-05T19:23:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago today, we picked up our healthy infant boy from Catholic Charities. He is so tall now and such a big boy; it is hard to believe, when I look at him, he is ten. Although, just today when I looked in the rear view mirror of the car, I got to see his little baby face again. He was looking at his brother, his mind going a mile a minute and trying to figure out what to say or do next.
After dinner tonight, DH and I were in the kitchen and I said we were going to celebrate his adoption day or "gotcha day" rather...it took six months for the actual adoption. Builder popped around the corner, smiling, and said, "You mean ten years since I joined you?" We laughed and said, "Yes." I commented on his super sensitive ears. He can hear like a bat; one of the first indications of his sensory issues.
The past nine years have been nothing like I imagined. The first year, yes, probably too good to be true...my Dad named him Cruise Control- he was so easy.
However, maybe I should have been wiser. Anyone having children should have no prior idea of what their life will be like. Ever. Anyone breathing, for that matter. It can change on a dime, as my friend said this weekend.
I am still musing on Builder's terminology "when I joined you". For some reason Mork from Mork and Mindy comes to mind http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mork_&_Mindy. Mork showed up and observed life. He reminds me of my child. Builder showed up and observed life. He taught us not everyone is the same. Not everyone is on the same page. Some people are indeed dancing to a different drum. His drum just happens to have a lot of duct tape, a rat, and not a lot of homework done. And a missing gym shirt.

ADD = CARPE DIEM

2009-12-16T20:49:00.000-08:00

Carpe Diem. In high school, this was our motto. Seize the day. Live each moment. I'll admit...it more accurately portrays my college experience. Good times, lots of moments, very little class time. I don't regret a single moment of of those four years. I don't even regret most of the bad choices I made. So, for 2010, I really want to try and embrace the world my son lives in...choosing the present.
He has no choice but to be impulsive and do what he wants to do NOW! His brain works that way. My brain is filled with didn't dos, need to dos, and rules to follow. Boring. Painful. I will need to rethink how important is it to flush? Put your dish away? Do your homework? Not very in his eyes. NOW is the time to build a duct tape snow blower. Eat cheese sticks and throw your wrapper on the floor. Empty a tissue box just because you can use it to make a rat condo. NOW is the time! I am going to start with not harping about the wrapper, tissue box or duct tape remnants. What will you do? Carpe diem!

No Idea

2009-11-21T19:00:00.000-08:00

I had no idea. These are the words people say to me when they have the rare moment of actually seeing, sharing, or living with some of the really super-hard behaviors of children on the spectrum or ADHD. They are truly shocked and surprised at the intensity and extremes of the tantrums, fits, or screamed verbiage.
It is hearing those words and that moment, every parent who lives with these behaviors daily, weekly, or monthly feels even more isolated. It becomes even more clear how different our child and lives are than the mainstream.
Ironically, we parents of spectrum-kids already knew "they had no idea." Because, how could they? Our goal has been and is to get through each day minus a breakdown (including our own.
Careful steps are taken to insure each day goes as smoothly as possible. Any indication the child is about to blow and we whisk them out of that scene as fast as possible. Before any family party or new event, husband and wife decide whether to bring two cars and who will be the designated caretaker. Of course, timing is everything. But sometimes, it happens, the terrific tantrum or fantastic fit.
And...I must admit, I had no idea it would be this hard.

Share and Share Alike?

2009-11-04T18:03:00.000-08:00

The other night on Facebook, I posted things I thought were the worst. I said Evite (it was frustrating me), self-check out at the grocery store (it just irritates me), and then homework (my kids', not mine). The worst is really a parent or child dying (I've lost my mom and others close to me).

I also really do not like clowns. Seriously, very afraid. However, I do not share that tidbit about me with many people. In fact, at this point, just my sisters and college roommates know that fear. (The college roommates pasted clowns everywhere in my dorm room, my sisters just laugh and say you better run, there's a clown).

My question today is how much to share with the people you kind of know? But primarily, how much to share about your child with people your child knows but you don't. Ideally, your child will be friends with them at some point? I don't always tell other people Builder is ADHD or on the spectrum. Of course, my close friends all know.

Yet, my life would be so much easier if everyone knew how Builder thinks. It isn't wrong, it is just different than many others. He knows he has Asperger's. I'm not sure how much he understands it; but he knows it makes him special and unique. He has talents and skills the majority of his friends and family do not. He also has limitations, mostly social. However, it is impossible to let the world know.

So, as much as I would love to print postcards with helpful hints, I don't. Certainly, considered it. I feel we need to help Builder understand how the other side thinks. It doesn't seem right to say he has Autism. It sounds like a disease. I prefer to say he thinks differently. His brain works in a distinct way.

Much like mine. I just can't get past the face paint, red nose, and really big shoes. I just hope I never have a clown behind me in the self-checkout line at the grocery store.

Halo-ween costume

2009-10-29T07:45:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow the children will all be parading around parking lots or gymnasiums, showing off their Halloween costumes. Some kids have known for the past 364 days what they will be. There will be sports players, Hannah Montanas, witches, clowns, inflatable sumo wrestlers (my youngest), and a duct-taped Storm trooper.

Huh? I meant to say an orange and blue striped, duct-taped Storm trooper. I do love the colors, as a University of Illinois alum. As a mom, I am worried.

Builder started working on his costume back in September. His teacher had called him Dr. Duct Tape. He loved the name. It is perfect for the mini-mogul he is. His duct tape purse and wallet business is still going strong two years later.

First, he made a top-hat. I believe it was modeled after the duct tape prom wear. Plus, adding a top hat always exudes professional. Think chimney sweeper.

However, it was too small to stay on his head. Problem #1. But still doable, I suggested a lab coat or scrubs to go with the duct tape. He looked at me and said, "That doesn't make any sense." Clearly, he had a different vision of his Dr. Duct Tape than I did. Son of Svengooli perhaps?

Next, he saw a picture of Halo, the game box super soldier. Problem #2. He wanted to morph the two costumes. He went to work on his old Star Wars costume.

Thus, a striped, duct-taped Storm trooper will be parading tomorrow. I will be the mom in the tiny orange and black top hat praying the other children appreciate his efforts as much as I worry about them.

Home-work- SCORE!

2009-10-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

As a teacher, I never really liked homework. It just seemed like an unnecessary evil. As a 23 year old, I baby-sat four girls for a week at a time, I realized then, kids and their parents did not have time to do homework, let alone eat dinner most nights after school.

As a parent, I'm all for banning it. For my family, we have exactly 4 hours between the last school bell and bed time. After school activities, play dates, dinner, shower, and reading fill that time. Our kids go to sleep by eight and will sleep ten to twelve hours. Builder is on the 12 side. Sleep is a huge regulator.

Add to the matter, what "regular" students can do in 20 minutes for homework is multiplied by 9 in my house for him. The older he gets, the harder it is to impart why he needs to do his homework and do it well.

Understanding the relationship between studying and grades is a huge stretch for him. He lives in the moment of NOW. Now never includes homework for him. However, the now includes WORK for me to get the homework done.

But if the Bears win on Sunday, his teacher told the class they won't have homework on Monday. SCORE!

Pick Up the Phone

2009-09-29T17:47:00.000-07:00

Note to readers: There will be minor profanity in this post. Please remove small children from the room. So, I get a phone message from Builder at 3:05PM. He is supposed to be at school until 4:30 at Bucket Band. He has called to say his teacher has a tooth problem and needs to go to the dentist after school. It is a stretch and I don't really believe it, but OK. This is the message:

"Mom? It's me, Builder, I don't have Bucket Band today because Mr. N. hurt his tooth or something and needs to go to the dentist or something after school. So you need to pick me up after school." That's the home line.

"Mom, It's me, Builder? Where are you? There's no band after school. You need to pick me up. Where are you? Pick up the d*#n phone!" That's my cell.

I must say, I laughed out loud when I picked up this message. For so many reasons.
1. 9 yr. old says d*#n to his Mom. 2. Can't believe I am that Mom. 3. He really doesn't see anything wrong with it. 4. He was frustrated and that is how it goes. 5. This is my life, just like I imagined. Again, laughing.

By accident, I deleted the message before I could counsel Builder on the error of his ways and laugh more that night while playing message for DH. Luckily, Builder remembered the message verbatim when asked exactly what his message said. Clearly, he still did not see a problem with his word choice.

I told him I was at the library where I could not answer my phone. He said, "Oh." I then explained succinctly, "If you ever phone me and use bad words, you should know I will not be picking you up."

"OK, I will find a ride with my friends."

Life's like this.

Calm is Cool

2009-09-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

Remember the Seinfeld episode where George's Dad just kept yelling "Serenity Now" in an effort to control his chaotic environment and situations? I do. I have tried shouting it on numerous occasions...to no avail. The problem is you are yelling, your eyes are bugging out, and your fists are clenched. Not so cool. Not so calm. You are not in charge of anything in that moment. So, I have been working on my coolness factor. For about 25 years. I admit, I run at high most days. High energy, high activity, high emotion. I do get quite a bit done. However, running at high and dealing with another person at high idle...not so cool. Tonight, I did it, I stayed calm through episode after episode with Builder. No school means there were quadruple the incidents, in addition to the usual breakdowns and malfunctions of a day. Here are the highlights and how I handled them:

Cleaning pet cage: Tight parameters: Get it done in the next 15 minutes.
Going to movie he didn't want to go to: Direct order: You are going.
Wanting sugar snacks at movie: Statement: NO.
Not wanting to go to class Mom forgot to pay for and didn't really want him to go to: Flexible: OK, convince your Dad in a reasonable manner. Try not yelling or throwing stuff and just talking to him.
Hot spaghetti sauce accidentally spilled on him by him: Calm: "Do you need medical attention?" in response to expletives of pain and swearing at me.

He didn't need medical attention. He just needed a good cry. But he had had a long day like he does everyday- just managing daily life. Me too. By staying calm, I could wait through the fits and still be available to help him process the wrong behavior and supply the right words and actions to him.

Clean or Quarantine?

2009-09-14T18:36:00.000-07:00

That is the question today. Put away your phones, turn off your t.v.s and stereos. Breathe. If you are like me, you also close your eyes. Why? Because there is not a space in our home not covered with a project, food wrapper, spilled sticky something or half-assembled fishing pole made of PVC. I can't bear to look at it all anymore. The only place left to have a meal is on the floor...after we kick aside the clothes and bags Builder has strewn about the home.
I can't go outside for some Zen. The grass is littered with bikes, scooters, buckets of dirt, cardboard boxes that once housed Mr. Fluffy Pants, the most recent animal caught and examined for the day. That mouse was lucky. He was released alive. Forgive me, I digress.
We are mulling the question "Should I just clean or quarantine him?" When Builder and Bounce were little, I picked up the toys. We happily reset Disney every night. I am a Fly Lady trained cleaner. Clutter begets clutter. We want shiny clean surfaces. It brings me peace and happiness. I am not asking about getting cleaning lady. That's me.
This is about how responsible do I insist Builder be about "If you make a mess clean it up." I have tried it all to instill responsibility. Consequences, big garbage bags, throwing it away. DH says I am guilty of "piling it on" Builder. Is there perhaps a mathematical formula for what percentage of his ginormous messes he should have to clean up? Do I do just pick up the left out food and clothing? Do I start making space for dining in the attic? Quarantine him to specific rooms? (Actually much harder to do than one would think)
In the picture book Love You Forever, when the boy is 9, the mother feels like she might sell him to a zoo. His manners, his appearance, and vocabulary are driving her crazy! But forever this child will be her baby. I guess it's time to reset the park. I need some shiny surfaces where I can smile.

The Beginning

2009-07-01T17:58:00.000-07:00

I ran into Builder's very first preschool teacher the other day grocery shopping. She asked what grade he was in and how he was doing. I was able to tell her well and we had eventually figured him out. I also told her I would always remember her because she was the first person to validate what I knew about Builder. He was different from other kids. Three pediatricians had told me it was nothing, no big deal, the fact he was unable to go anywhere in public successfully at age three. Our extended family had suggested in turn, "sibling rivalry", "terrible two's", "it's just a stage" and "little kids-little problems, big kids-big problems" and "spare the rod, spoil the child". In other words, deal with it.
However, Builder's very experienced teacher finally called with the words, "Why is he so angry?" "Uhhh...we don't know, why is he so angry? What is up????" And I was thrilled, finally someone else saw what I did. This child needed help and wasn't behaving normally. So we began the path of therapies, studies, evaluations, and hoisting money toward anything that might help. As a teacher, I knew we only had six years to work with; I have always felt if you don't fix it by ten, the teenage years take control. We have six more months before Builder turns ten. I think, hope, and pray, our past arduous years will pay off.

Little Known Fact

2009-06-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

It's those hazy, crazy lazy days of summer...to the parent of a child on the spectrum that means it is hours of unstructured time. OH NOOOOOO!! What other parents welcome- and even I embrace (ever so slightly) is the freedom to not be somewhere at X in the morning. Hmmmm??...the ever challenging escapade of getting out the door in the morning? Versus the still in jammies, no one has eaten and child is bored now poking his brother? For me, the ordeal to get them to school has a pay off. I'm out of the game by 9AM. After two hours of struggles, I crave silence, peace, Oprah. But, I am a sucker for summer. I just need to remember, I must structure their day and make sure they eat. Most importantly, I must run them by 9am. By that, I mean out the door early. Bike riding, walks, events- whatever it takes to keep them interested, occupied, and separated.
If I do not heed these words, I must prepare to be my child's best friend for the next 8 hours. Because, no other parents call, there are no play dates solicited, my other child has run screaming to any house other than his; however, if you have access to where the kids are you might just get Junior into a crowd of active kids. (Apologies to my fantastic mom friends who DO always include Builder and appreciate his uniqueness!).

Progress Report

2009-06-09T21:25:00.000-07:00

Annual review time. At school, Builder has had a great year; academically and socially. It is the first year I haven't talked to the principal on a weekly basis...so I believe it. It is is wild to think of the different boy we see. Luckily the school hasn't seen any of the behaviors we have in our home. Excellent...I guess. Of course, we are thrilled to hear he is doing well. But...what's up with that? Are you kidding me??? He can hold it together there and not here...really? Apparently, this is typical of "these kids" to quote a favored doc of mine. He hears that all the time. Kids are fine at school and at home they are a challenge. OK...so, this explains why other moms say how nice, sweet, and kind our kids are and gently offer advice on how to handle them. Raising my eyebrows and tilting my head, I always just nod and say yeahhh... What I should do is hand out passes to the nightly show that is most likely going to occur that evening at dusk. Apparently, the show must go on if that is what it takes for the release of the enormous pressure these children feel to keep it together for eight hours. As parents, we are ringmasters, tiger tamers, and high wire walkers.

Intensity and Frequency

2009-06-02T09:27:00.000-07:00

These little words explain the difference between other kids and my kid. When Builder was five, I would go to Mom parties and try to get some other mom to help me understand why my child acted the way he did. Well, they would just laugh at my latest stories of madness and mayhem; then share one of their own little darling's equally as naughty anecdotes. However, the difference was, they were still smiling and laughing. Not me, I was exhausted, frustrated, and sitting in the aisles of the library for hours trying to figure out this enigma I called son. Yeah, son of a gun?! I just didn't get it. How come they could handle all these situations and monkey business? Well...not until completing some parent quizzes and interviews did I realize there is a professional term for this anarchy. Intensity and Frequency. Yes...every single parent on the planet has amusing "my child drives me crazy!" stories. But only the select few of us with children with special needs have the "NO, really my kid IS driving me crazy." We have the singular insanity of dealing with arguments about most everything, coupled with whatever major mess has been made, topped off with at least one to two tantrums a day. Then, don't forget the incredible difficult food menu and sincere disagreement to most clothing options. Intensity and frequency. Remembering those word just might keep you sane.javascript:void(0)

Stomper or Grower?

2009-05-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

I have been called numerous names in the past few weeks by my overly-confident child. None that I can print. He has no sense of how truly awful those words are or how it cuts to the quick for a parent or sibling. He doesn't have empathy. Unless we spell it out for him, he is oblivious. Really, might never get it, how do your parent that? However, in the interim, I am trying to be positive and capitalize on the good...which for me is so super-hard! My friend was over and made the observation she thinks I am (and definitely my husband is) a Grower. Not a Stomper. A Grower encourages kids in their passions and quirks. I argued against my status as a Grower, because inately I think the role of a Mom is to be a bit of a Stomper. You know the roll...clean up your room, put your laundry away, feed the pet, is you homework done? Yet the roll of the Dad is way more free-falling...."Sure you want to blow up those old trees in the back...I think I have just the power tool to do that!" Totally not Stomping. My friend still persisted that I really was a grower. What she doesn't know is how hard it is to grow this child. I am naturally a grower, a teacher. I do crafts, I sew with him, I take him to libraries and places to feed his interests; but he only sees me as a "Interupter" and a "Distractor". The really super-hard aspect of raising an Asperger's kid is that the are truly only focused on themselves. They have limited empathy and limited tolerance for the mundane chores of life.

Tough Guy

2009-05-10T18:18:00.000-07:00

The best part of Mother's Day...putting your children to bed; because later you can watch them sleeping and think how sweet they really are. During the day when they are clubbing each other, whining, and talking back...not so much. My Mother's Day really turned out quite perfectly. The children were convinced to help clean up in order to have family friends over for dinner. Husband cleaned out fridge and eradicated all mold growing in that environment. Sweet. You can tell I am not a roses and chocolate kind of gal.
Plus, I got a hand-picked out card and flowers from Builder this morning. He went to the store with Dad while I stayed on the couch with Bounce and watched a riveting Hannah Montana. The card Builder picked out says, "Happy Mother's Day to the best mom in the world from that always hungry, seldom serious, frequently wacky, often rowdy, occasionally tidy, not quite civilized, almost lovable little tough guy who grew up to be me." Designed to be given by an adult, I am not surprised Builder chose it. He thinks he is 25. But it did stop me in my tracks. He gets it. I need to get it too. Someday he will be older; and apparently, there have been many moms before me who also had Builders living in their homes. (Is it fair to say driving them crazy???) And they grew up. Most live in Seattle now, but still, on their own.
Tonight, while tucking them in, I thanked Builder for the card and quoted a few of the adjectives on the card to the boys. I asked Builder his favorite part of the card and he sheepishly said, "the bottom of the card". "You know Mom, tough guy".
He is my tough guy. In so many ways! He thinks he's tough because he can swear like a sailor and defy any request. (And he has mastered that cool guy walk!) I think he's tough; because I need to parent this pipsqueak Sinbad into a respectful, educated, kind person. He is my tough guy.

Ransacked!

2009-05-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a man came to the front door selling meat from a minivan. Suspicious? Definitely. Coming from a long line of neighborhood crime fighters...I immediately called the police to report the incident. A young officer arrived and began to gather the details of the event. He told me it was possible they were planning a "rouse robbery". One man occupies the owner at the front door; while the other man slips in unnoticed at another door. Well, we have lots of doors usually unlocked and often wide open. Builder tends not to bother with minor details like closing doors. I was fairly certain the second man didn't enter my house; but the officer felt strongly I needed to make certain nothing valuable was missing. I had already checked the garage because of course that had been open. Which is where the problem starts.
The garage has become another domain for Builder's projects. Pink Styrofoam litters the floor from the latest hovercraft design. Chicken wire on the ground from a crayfish trap built 3 months ago. Tools and nails are piled up on makeshift tables. Plus the bikes, kites, and hockey gear are squished in with all of Builder's project remnants. It was impossible to tell if anything was missing! The golf clubs and bikes were still there so I decided it was fine.
As I returned to the house to check my purse and bedroom. I viewed the house as a burglar would....Yikes! As I well know, my purse is virtually impossible to find. Coupled with the fact my wallet never has cash, it would be a bust. The rest of the rooms are covered with Builder's indoor projects. The latest: plastic Porsche model, duct tape pet carriers, fabric sleeping bags sewn for rats, electrical modifications to three remote control cars that have been disassembled. Every table, couch, and floor is covered with his projects' debris. HE NEVER CLEANS UP AFTER HIMSELF. EVER.
The kitchen has the refrigerator door wide open, bread and cheese, often a stick of butter melting into soup. On this particular morning the boys had taken the drawers out of their dressers and left them all over their room. That means they placed them on unmade beds and a combination clean folded laundry and muddy clothes.
I can count my valuable jewelry on one hand and have hidden it so thoroughly I haven't been able to find it for over a year. If I was a burglar, I would have high-tailed it outta my house so fast. This place has already been thoroughly ransacked!

Mother's Day

2009-04-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

So I got my gift early tonight...because it was such a good gift that I would love, hubby couldn't wait. He started talking about it about 3 weeks ago. How great and how perfect this particular gift was for me. I should preface by saying two things. 1. I hate surprises. Totally, can't stand them. 2. I hate getting an expensive gift after being asked for 11 months to "cut expenses" (like at Target! not Prada). So, tonight, the boys unveiled the best gift for me: an industrial size hand sanitizer that mounts on the wall. With refills.
Granted, their hearts and minds were in the right place. But...NOOOOOOO! Opening the gift, I immediately flashed back to my classroom a year ago where multiple children would line up to use said object and/or the numerous times the device never worked and secreted an oozing goop of slime on the floor for days. Not a warm fuzzy memory...plus the fact I was dismissed from said job for lower paid neophyte. And...really what does it say about me????
Nothing good. And even though I know I am overly-zealous when it comes to hand -washing...at least I am old school. Hand-washing. In a sink. With hot water and soap. Happy Mother's Day to me...germ-a-phobe! It is my nightmare realized...
Two years ago, I was subbing in a classroom and the students were writing about what their moms always say to them. I must admit my first thought was, "Oh no, my kids are going to say, "Did you wash your hands?" But later that night, I asked my sons what I always say to them and they said you always say, "I love you." Phew! But yet, hand sanitizer as gift???

It Keeps Getting Better?

2009-02-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

In the car, jamming to tunes without children in the back, and I hear Christina's newer song, "Keeps Getting Better". Got me thinking...does it keep getting better?

It actually feels like everyday I am living the math problem from fourth grade. It goes like this, "the snail goes up the well 2 feet everyday, and at night the snail slides back down 1 foot; how long until the snail gets out of the well?" I have purposely omitted how deep the well is...because who knows how super deep this well is we are in!!! I'm actually surprised we are still able to breathe some days.

So, at any rate, some days "I'm a super Mom" and other days "I'm a super...not so stellar mom". On the good days, I think, "I can do this, have been doing it and there is progress." On the bad days I think, "I can't possibly do this one more minute, he will never get it." And at night, we discuss strategies and evaluate the progress.

He is now just primarily verbally aggressive instead of physically. The horrible daily tantrums are minor and less destructive. Progress? I guess. Still feels like sliding down the well to me. But, I need to hang on to the mantra "Keeps Getting Better." Without it, there's no way the snail is getting out.

Obsession of the Week

2009-02-18T14:18:00.000-08:00

We coined this phrase about three years ago when we noticed a pattern to Builder's incessant wants. Whenever he sees or hears about something...he must have it...IMMEDIATELY. We are talking, non-stop cannot think about anything else 24/7. The newest obsession always takes precedence over the current obsession so with some careful maneuvering , we occasionally, can get out of the repetitive loop.

When he was young, it was trains. High five on that one, it is a universal one. Apparently so is the dreaded "claw machine" that insidious stores house. Yet, after age five, obsessions are less common with non-typicals. Thus, the ASD child tends to stand out a bit more with their compulsions.

Some of Builder's most unique OTWs are a Batman costume (he got it), a wet suit (he didn't get it), office space, Razor dune buggy, dirt-bike, and a certain cleaning cart he fancied. It only takes a fleeting glance at something to cement it into his brain that he needs the item. I have only mentioned the top five, in an average day, there are at least ten others.

We use the Internet as a research tool to help him explore the cost and features of an OTW. He researches, he makes proposals and attempts to refute our logical objections to most of his OTWs. He asked me the other day to not try to "mind-distraction" him as he insisted he needed another Beanie Baby simply because he saw them for sale..

However, we are still accepting all ideas on how to mind-distract an OTW.

Simplify

2009-02-15T05:59:00.000-08:00

Still on vacation and I have noticed, I love being at a home where there isn't the "STUFF" of a family with children all over it. No endless school papers, projects, birthday gifts, toys from every and any place you have ever taken your children to...

Instead, Builder and Bounce are working out of two tiny carry-ons. 3 shorts, 3 shirts, and a sweatshirt. Quite honestly, add in some pants, and that is all they wear at home. Yet, at home they have triple the amount of clothes???!! Time to Spring Clean!

Same with toys, Bounce brought a PSP without a charger...and he's fine not playing it constantly as he is wont to do at home. A couple Beanie Babies, a toy car or 2 and he is content. Builder brought a stuffed dog. The duct tape was ready and waiting. We haven't really even had time for card or dice games. WHY? We are outside almost the entire day. Children do not need electronics, kits, or STUFF when they play outside all day.

It is not a new revelation by any means; but one that bears repeating. I understand many ASD children have a tough time outside, but finding a few activities your children enjoy outdoors is important. Builder can't bike more than 100 feet, but loves to scooter. He likes to look for birds' nest and birds and identify them. I was not that kind of kid, but if being a "birder" means building up Builder, count me in.

Of course, if it had rained everyday...that would be a different story. Last summer's trip out East!

Travel Plan

2009-02-13T16:24:00.000-08:00

It always happens. I have just finished a three hour flight with Bounce and Builder. The chime has sounded and everyone, especially Builder is ready to get off the plane. No, really, Builder sees no reason he is not the first off the plane because, uuhmm..he wants off! The aisle-mate across from me stands up and says, "Your boys just seem so nice and well-behaved."

I grin from ear-to-ear because 1. I never hear this compliment anywhere else-ever. 2. 2 mini-bottles will do that. I smile and say, "That's why I travel." "They are much better behaved away from home. And so am I."

We have always traveled with our children. The way I see it, it is much easier to parent with other people than by yourself. You can be the type of mom you would be if you only had to "watch" your kids. In other words, you get to be a just a nanny while on vacation; at home, you are the cleaning lady, the cook, the dog-walker, the scretary, the grocery shopper, the constant picker-up-er-er, etc.

The children respond likewise when they know you are, to quote Oprah, "present" with them. Instead of mentally tabulating the 55 "things to do by the next hour", you can actually play and really listen to them. On vacation, the kids determine the activities of the day; thus happy kids. Happy kids=Happy Mom and vice-versa.

Junior

2009-02-07T07:58:00.000-08:00

It has been 3 months since Junior arrived. He is named after Builder. Builder Jr, but goes by Junior. How and why would someone get a pet rat? Excellent question, one I also shared, especially after living in the city and not really so excited about wandering vermin. Plus, those tails are creepy. However, as a good friend put it, sometimes with an unconventional child you need to explore the unconventional options. This is excellent advice for the ASD parent! Therefore, after considering the gerbil, hamster, guinea pig options; we were getting gerbils! So I went to the pet store one month prior to Builder's birthday.

I was informed by the very helpful staff at Wilmette Pet, "Get a rat". Yup, "get a rat" for that 8 or 9 year old boy, the three teenage boys told me. Those were not words I wanted to hear looking at a white rat, with red eyes, and a long pink tail. But, I should listen to these boys with the superior look in their eyes. Apparently a rat is affectionate, comes when called, and won't run away from you. Naturally nocturnal, the rat can be switched to be more awake in the day. Really??? I couldn't commit that day; but did return home to do more research.

I recalled as a child spending endless hours searching for run away gerbils hiding behind the washing machine. The books and internet confirmed everything the staff had told me. So, on Builder's birthday, I did what I always do, if it is meant to be- there will be a sign. You know, from the Cosmos to guide me.

Walking into the store, one rat cage 75% off. That is one big sign! But is there a rat available? One rat, white and brown, brown eyes, grayish tail. Inexpensive and seemingly friendly, even I could get past that tail thing. Builder was overwhelmed, and bit apprehensive that evening accepting his new gift. However, in the past three months Junior has become a delightful addition to the family. Affectionate, comes when called, and easy to take care of for a nine year old boy!

Exotic Animals

2009-01-26T07:33:00.000-08:00

After watching Merry Christmas Drake and Josh, my boys became enamored of the "sweet pet monkey" as a Christmas gift. Builder had just gotten a rat a month ago for his birthday and seemed content to let his brother add this exotic animal to his list for Santa. While Builder did all the research on the internet, I admit I did slightly encourage them by saying when I was their age, I too really wanted a pet monkey. They know I love animals and I am still "the coolest mom ever: for allowing Junior, the fancy rat.

They settled on a Carpuchin monkey from www.gotpetsonline.com . Apparently you can adopt a monkey from a conservation society. Picture included, this little Carpuchin was very adorable. However, after reading the description of the type of owner these pets need, I was struck by the similarities to parenting a special needs child. See what I mean:

"young apes are cute and appealing" check

"behavior problems may start when ape matures" check

"owners may be injured from bites" check

"they have a complex diet' check

"some owners are unaware of their special needs" check

"some can turn aggressive and unmanageable" check

"the owners need to be knowledgeable and responsible" check

"it can be challenging to provide them with proper care" check

So now I have a new adjective to describe my child. He is exotic: striking and attractive through being colorful or unusual (Oxford dictionary) And I could easily parent a Carpuchin. Piece of cake as an ASD parent.