1-2-3 magic

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.

Oatmeal in the litterbox and other moments

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.

Share and Share Alike?

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.

Pick Up the Phone

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.

Stomper or Grower?

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.

What Would You Pay?

So...I did it. I ordered it. The radio ads say there can be a total transformation. We will see. It seems since my child was two...I have been searching for the way to parent him that will result in a well-behaved or least not defiant child. I recall 7 years ago, a neighbor I did not know yet, returning a box of 3 parenting books to me, she had opened the box accidently after the mailman incorrectly delivered them to her house. I was so embarassed! It revealed the truth, I was incapable of handling a 2 and 1 year old! However, she is now the mom of two teenage girls and we are best of buds! Well, 25 books later, 7 seminars, and uuhmmmm,... probably over $100,000 in therapies-here we are still looking for the Golden Ring. Because, our family is struggling...everyday and evening. This child is so hard and difficult. He is not "getting it." Lying, sneaking, stealing, swearing, really the worst thing is his not caring. Truly.
Is it our fault? Seems so. But why, the other child has none of these issues. The Total Transformation offers a money back 30 day guarantee. If it works we pay $300 to keep it going. An offer I can't refuse. What would you pay to help your family?

Exotic Animals

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.