The Power of Words

We say all the time to never underestimate the power of a kind word. It is very true, regardless of who you are speaking to, be it a stranger, friend, family, or even your own child. It can have such a profound impact on that person. Words are powerful, for better or worse. They can make or break a person or relationship.  They can make or break a moment or experience. I think this is especially true when it comes to our own children. Especially when they suffer from low self-esteem and struggle so much with their own self-worth.

Last week I went on a sailing regatta and boy did I need the break! I felt like I was going stir crazy and just losing my mind. I was becoming short with everyone and everything and I just couldn’t curb it. We were having a really rough start to summer and I was really stressed.  The kiddo was testing every boundary under the sun and it was just teenage attitude to the nth degree and then some. I wasn’t sure he was going to survive much longer.  I was counting down and really looking forward to a few days away, completely disconnected from the world.

During the trip I received a pretty juicy concussion.  I was pretty out of it and very tired (naturally).  A few days later when we returned home and I picked my son up, I promptly fell asleep on the couch at a mere 4:00 in the afternoon. Oops. I remember him waking me up at some point to ask me something about dinner and chicken noodle soup. Then again with something about showering. Then finally about bed. At that point I was so groggy I didn’t even know what day it was. He reminded me of his rule of going to bed (if mommy is too tired then mommy needs to go to bed and not sleep on the couch) and I sent him to bed. At this point I got up, tucked him in, told him I was sorry for being so out of it and that I was proud of him for being so on the ball, and went to bed myself.

The next day I didn’t fare much better but I did make it to work and get through the day. He helped me quite a bit throughout the day with getting the dishes done, helping me make dinner, getting things I needed when I was too dizzy and sick to move, and making sure he got his shower and took his meds. My boy was on the ball. I kept telling him how proud of was of him and how amazing he was being.

Things have pretty much continued in that way. He’s being patient with me. He’s reminding me of things. He’s showering me with hugs and kisses. He’s letting me sleep. He’s letting the dog in and out without screaming at the broken screen door. And I can only respond with how proud I am of him and how amazing he is being. He really has been a rock star.

Here we are today and I’m in my room after a shower and he comes upstairs with the towels I had started to wash the other day. Dry. Ready to be put away. Big grin on his face. He started his own laundry without being asked. When he realized he forgot some clothes, he didn’t flip out (which is HUGE) he just came to me and said he didn’t know what to do. So I helped him build a load with a blanket and two jackets I couldn’t fit in my wash from the trip.

I got to thinking while on the trip about all the hype over having your kids be outside and creative and not on anything electronic over the summer. At first I thought it was a great idea, let’s have him be creative first before getting on the computer! Have him draw, have him use Legos, whatever. But you know what? Who cares? He goes to a camp with other Autistic kiddos for socialization and anger management skills. When he is on the computer he IS creating. He’s making computer game levels and characters. He works so hard all school year to keep it together, he deserves the break too.

The entire dynamic in this house has changed. He’s listening again (actually coming the first time I call, not after I turn into the crazy woman and go looking for him), he’s doing what he’s being asked to do, he’s not whining, he’s not yelling, and the attitude? So far it’s on hiatus. He is making me so proud with how well he’s been doing. He’s been making sure I’m ok. He’s been snuggling in with me in the morning. He’s been getting me anything I need if I can’t get up at that time due to dizziness. Last night he even made me a S’more in the microwave so I could have a snack too. I’ve always known he’s the best kid out there, lately, he’s been proving it all over again. All because I keep reminding him of how amazing he is.

Dear Teacher

On one hand I can understand how innocent you think your project is.  Just send home a paper about ancestry and ask kids to have their parents fill in the ancestry for mom, dad, and both sets of grandparents.  They return with it, you have a great class discussion, everyone learns something.

I have one problem with that. The traditional mom-dad-kiddo family is not so traditional any more...

What about students in those non-traditional families? Those in foster care? Single parent households? Adopted? Kinship care? Protective custody?

What about them? They may not know. They may not ever know.

Did you think about the families who had to deal with parents who’s rights were revoked? Families who were abandoned? Children in foster care who will never know anything about their birth families?

Imagine my shock when my son produced a family tree paper asking for his family ancestry. Imagine my shock when he asked me if he had a father and why he couldn’t remember him.

Let me share something with you, you can’t spring something like this on families and assume all will be well.  My honest response was not pretty. Truthful. But not pretty.

It shouldn’t matter. Honestly, I didn’t want to really discuss it because it shouldn’t matter. He technically does not exist. But thanks to you... He now does.

My son isn’t alone in how much he struggles.  Many children, disabled or not, struggle mightily.  Can you imagine how the child without one or both of their parents feels when they bring this paper home and can’t fill it out?

That is the case with us. Technically, his father does not exist. He is not a conversation that happens.

You see, a number of years ago the court decided that he was, in fact, a rather crappy and immature human being and revoked his parental rights. They saw him as unfit if you will.

You read that right, the court revoked his parental rights to his child. Not that he ever wanted anything to do with the kiddo...

Let that sink in.

I’m sure you’ll feel mortified when you read my note and find out that his father’s rights were revoked and that until now, he didn’t even know he should have one. He is not a topic of discussion.

The kicker? I guess they really don't share custody information despite saying they do and requiring me to prove it to the school with a copy of the order... Well, so much for that.

I’m really surprised that you would make such a basic assumption about families in this day and age.  At least warn the families that such a project is coming home. Let the family prepare for how to answer those questions or to opt out.  It’s really not something you can spring on someone like that.  I know I’m really bad at making things up on the spot...

It has really opened some wounds for me in many ways... The kiddo is struggling enough and now he knows his own father couldn't be bothered with him. He doesn't know why but I do. I won’t write it here because it’s reasoning that needs to come directly from me to my son, but I will comfortably say that he needs to burn in hell for what he said to me and the language he used...

These kinds of questions, especially without any preparation, can (and have) become a serious issue in a household like mine.  It’s not a subject that can be taken lightly or easily.

I went to Facebook with this because I was so upset.  My concerns and upset were shared by many from different backgrounds. I have adopted friends who especially felt the pain of it having done these types of assignments in the past but were left invalidated by it.  

Every family is different.  Family dynamics are different than they used to be.  Teachers need to be sensitive to these ever changing dynamics.  Teachers need to respect and be sensitive to how families operate today.  We long longer have the dad-mom-kiddo norm.  It is simply no longer the norm.

Please, be more sensitive to the culture that exists today. Adjust your thinking and ideals to match the students you serve in your classroom.  You owe them that much.

I leave you with this AMAZING video that was shared with me.

Watch This Guy Misspell ’Father’ At A Spelling Bee For A Beautiful Reason

I know I couldn’t stop crying.

Through the Looking Glass....

I sat there in the office, looking at my doctor, who was just looking at me.

Moments ago he had told me that yes, I do appear to have it, but since I already know and am very self aware, why am I asking him to confirm it?

I didn't have an answer. Why was I seeking the answer from him? I knew the answer, sure. But hearing it is validation right? Or so I thought. It was the other words that hit me: you are self aware, you already know, you seem to have adjusted and coped just fine with it. Oh, and I should seek counseling as it is something that helps everyone.

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Coped well? Adjusted? Managed just fine? Did this guy even know me? I felt a little insulted by his assumptions. Oh, if he only knew....

Yes. I knew it already. I didn't expect to hear it, that wasn't the main reason I was there, but deep down I knew. I didn't really need him to tell me that I was on the spectrum, that I was likely an Aspie.

I knew.

To me there is a genetic component. My son got it from me. Well that explains that then.

Adjusted well?

I guess if you can call a Bachelor's degree, teaching certification and being 2 classes away from a Master's degree "adjusted."

More like "damn lucky to have somehow navigated so blindly through the universe that never understood me or feeling like I ever fit in."

But sure. I adjusted well. (/snark)

I've actually sat on this for about 6 months now. Six months this has been swirling in my brain. I had no idea how to write this. How to put it into words. Until now, I haven't told anyone.

Not my mom. Not my sisters. Not my best friend. Not even Strike. No one.

I was talking to my dear friend over at Mutha Lovin Autism not too long ago about this. She had written an amazing post that really struck a chord with me. You can read it here. She told me that only I can make the decision on where to go with this information. I honestly still don't know. But right now I feel that it needs to be out there. I've sat on it long enough.

Will it bring more understanding? Probably not. Will people look at me differently. Probably. But I have always held to the belief that I will be true to who I am and embrace it.

Over the last 6 months I have thought about many things. Growing up, school, my degrees, relationships... I've had so many struggles that I think would have been less had I known then what I know now. I was fighting against who I was not understanding myself, my emotions, my thoughts. I'm a pretty intense person. On every level... O.o

One relationship stands out when I think back. It was just a few years ago. He was a really great guy, said and did the right things, and things were great. Until they weren't. How much of that was him and how much was me is debatable and not relevant. (It was really about 50/50 anyway.) What is relevant is my own over-reactions to rather simple and insignificant things. I perseverated needlessly on so many things. It became harmful. My own reactions being so strong and sudden and him not possibly able to know where it was coming from, was a huge issue. I still struggle with this today. But not just in general, specific to this relationship. Had I been more self aware at the time to my own thoughts and emotions, I think things would have gone very differently. He will never see this post, as I'm sure he has no idea I write or even have this blog, but to him, I apologize. I was pretty intense, wasn't I? ")

Does it matter? In the long run no. We are both very happy with our current situations, I'm sure. I know I am. What does matter is the ability to have self awareness.

Where am I going with this? Over the last 3 years I've developed this self-awareness. This has helped me tremendously and has trickled down to the kiddo. How? Knowing my own struggle helps me understand and help him through his.

I heard not too long ago that I am a different person that I was a couple years ago. I have made a point of changing how I was in an attempt to make my relationships healthier and stronger. I like this new me. I feel stronger. I feel better. I finally feel like "me." I am conscious of where my limits are and managing myself. I didn't have a name for it, it was just something I knew I had to deal with and work on. It's something I work with the kiddo daily on. He needs to know his and how to work with them. What I haven't figured out yet is my temper and level of intensity... Someday I hope to get there. It's work in progress and I am improving.

Knowing what I do now, so much makes sense. I even sat down to compile a list of things (a running list because I keep thinking of new things) that make sense now when you look at how Asperger's is described (you can find this list in the link above, all apply which threw me through a loop, but I'm just highlighting some here):

Things like head banging in the car. I needed to move, so I'd move. There was something strangely comforting about constantly banging on the back of the seat. (My sisters didn't appreciate it much though...) I craved the motion. I still do. I can rock or swing for hours. I was a very stimmy child, often flapping my hands and being told very sarcastically that I wouldn't make it off the ground by an uncle of mine... :/

I crave pressure. I am one who will sleep with the comforter when it's 100 degrees in the room. I need to feel the weight. I also have to have my feet covered at all times.

I was staring at objects from an early age, just watching them move, trying to figure out how they moved. A few years ago I remember doing this with a Hoberman sphere that my son has. I lost hours to that thing one afternoon.

I had a thing I can only describe as a "scissors feeling when in car." I would cry over this one. Whenever I touched something I felt as though there was some sort of invisible string still tying me to that object that I had to "cut" to release. Then I'd have to cut what I just cut. Then cut again. And again... You get the idea. Eventually I would just cry in frustration.

I am one of the most inflexible people I know. I'm very rigid in how I think and respond. I have a really hard time adjusting to changes in plans, especially when they are last minute. I can easily lash out. Zero to 60 in 2.3 I always say... Once the change is in my head, I'm ok. I can adjust myself after the initial panic, talk myself down, and be ok. I just have to get there first...

I also have to do things in a very specific way. I thrive on routine. Things have to happen at certain times and in certain ways or it throws me off. This morning I accidentally shaved my right leg first... Seems like a small thing but it really messed with me for a while after that.

I have a love of cats. That is likely where my son gets it from. Growing up my world revolved around them. I was convinced for years that I would be a wildlife photographer and go to Africa to photograph them. They are and have been an intense, deep, interest for me. I am very attuned to my kitties.

I have major sensory issues. The biggest one being the feel of my clothing when I'm tired. They just get suddenly uncomfortable. When this happens I get irritable. I even have to take off my watch. I also hate being wet. It is nails on a chalkboard for me.

I have a major need for music at times. It works wonders to regulate my thoughts and emotions. It helps calm me and make sense of chaos around me. If the kiddo is particularly vocally stimmy I will have to pop in my headphones in order to be in the same room. (Which hurts to say.) Many of you already know of the headphones and music we bought for him for the same reason.

I often live in my own world. I like it there. I feel safe there. Going with that, I prefer to be alone. I'm content to sit by myself undisturbed for long periods of time.

My whole life I have struggled greatly with who I am and where I fit in. I've never really felt I belonged in a sense. I didn't feel like I really had an identity unless I had a label: band member, cheerleader, admin, and eventually mom and teacher. I live by those labels. Without them I am lost.

I often have to rely on my friends in social situations for cues on how to respond to something. I often respond wrong and don't know it or understand why (a big issue in relationships, like the one I already mentioned). The issue here is that I am often seen as cold and unfeeling which is really not accurate at all. I easily offend and alienate people as a result.

As strange as it may sound, I keep certain objects near me at all times. It changes as times goes on but it's pretty consistent. As a result, I carry a large purse... I have a hard time letting go, objects or people.

My closest friends have always been male. I say it's because there is less drama (which is true) but men are often so black and white. This makes them so easy to understand. They also don't really seem to care so much about those minor social things that women pick others apart for.

I've always been very motherly, taking care of people and making sure everything is ok. This usually isn't an issue on a larger scale and it works nicely to counteract those who think I'm cold and unfeeling.

I'm very blunt and have no filter. This is not good in many social situations but over the years I have developed my skill for tact and diplomacy which has helped ease the sting on this one.

Growing up I found it easier to be friends with people older than me and had many adult friends. To this day I have friends who are older than me (as I age this gap closes). I've been told I have an old soul. I can only guess this is where that comes from.

I found it interesting than an intense interest in reading was on the list. I'm an avid reader and am never happier than when I have a book in my hands. My son shares this love of books and we currently have far more books than we have shelves to put them on! He recently came home and told me that the book fair was coming to school and on what day so I wasn't allowed to forget! :)

Appearing shy was also on the list and this one made me smile. Growing up I was often assumed shy because I am also hearing impaired. I would avoid large crowds and when I couldn't, I would be the quiet one in the corner. I would (and still do) avoid going to parties and large gatherings for this very reason. However, around trusted friends I would be completely out of that shell and show my more outgoing side.

I remember a little quirk I had growing up. I would circles around the house for hours. Perfectly content to circle, lost in my own world and thoughts. About 3 years ago now, my son was spotted doing the same and I had received a frantic phone call from my mother who was convinced the kiddo was upset and I needed to come pick him up. He was perfectly content, and I knew he was, but there was no convincing her. (She does not remember this but there was so much going at that time that it probably didn't stand out to her.)

The ability to hide how things really are? Got it. I am very well mannered in a sense and never reveal how I'm really feeling or what is really going on in my life. I find it very difficult to let anyone in.

I've always been very conscious of appearances. Always. Everything has to be "just right" or it won't work. I will change my clothes 6 times before leaving the house if something is not quite right. Going with that, I have to have certain things like my watch or a necklace. I cannot leave the house without my necklace... (I've also worn the same necklace for the last 4 years...)

I think it's obvious that I'm a writer. I used to write poetry. It all surrounded my feelings. Some of it has been published. I feel free when I write. I get lost in the worlds I make. I also draw. I love art. It's something the kiddo and I definitely share. I am also an actress. My first degree (BA) is in theater.

I guess that lets the cat out of the bag so to speak. To go back to the original question, why seek the answer from him? Validation in a world that has time and time again invalidated everything I have ever felt. Confirmation of what I know. The beginning of something to help make sense of my world.

For the last several years I have seen my son in me. It has been both eye-opening and comforting in many ways. I no longer wish to "see how he sees" because I realize now that I already do. As Mutha Lovin Autism said best: He is me. I am him.

Editor's Note: Before publishing this post I did send it to my family and Strike for them to read. I don't want to spring anything on anyone. As I expected, there were no surprises. I have also embraced my happy stimmy self which I'm sure is driving Strike nuts, but he needs to know what he's in for right? ;) I feel free. I feel happy. I feel better than I have in years.

The Day I Lost Him

With all the influx of news of wandering and the abuse the Lynch family is receiving over their precious baby, I can't help but get upset.

Don't judge unless you know. Don't judge unless you've been there. Quit telling Neil Armstrong what it's like to be on the moon.

Ok. Maybe you don't know Mr. Armstrong but it is essentially what is happening.

These kiddos make professional escape artists look like amateurs.

My son wanders. He has along history of elopement from the time he was 2 and could walk off. He knows no fear. He loves water and we happen to live next to a rather giant body of it up here in the northeast corner of the country. So close, in fact, I could throw a rock into one of the Great Lakes. He knows how to swim. He attended the local YMCA for 8 years. His Autistic Support class at school also goes swimming once a week during the year. It's not fool proof, but it's a step in the right direction.

Two years ago, I lost him. Heck, all 5 of us in the house lost him and 3 of them were fireman. We were out in my sister's neck of the woods at her friend's house while sis's husband and the friend's hubby looked at my SUV. My sister, her friend FFK (who was pregnant at the time), me and our collective troop of kiddos hung out in the house. A and I had never been there before, but knew the people who lived there (FFK and her hubby FFM) We were there for a couple of hours without incident.

We were huddled around the kitchen island (the kitchen was an open space with the dining room and living room) while the kids all played in the living room just a couple of feet away. A has always had a love/hate relationship with my nephew Z. It goes way back to when Z was little (he is 2 years younger than A) and how he has ADHD and always wanted to play (he was a bit too intense for A) and A very much wanted to be left be. Naturally.

Some type of altercation happened between A and Z and both got yelled at by me. One was put on one couch, the other was put on another couch, and time out ensued. A was seething. At this point I don't recall what happened or why he was mad. But the kiddo was very upset (part of the reason for the time out, to help him calm down).

Then it happened. No warning. No sound. It just happened. I blinked and he disappeared. My sister said something to me, I turned to answer, when I turned back just a few seconds later, he was missing. I figured he went to the bathroom or went to another room to get away from Z. A quick bathroom check... No. So we check the room downstairs... No. Garage... No. Well, crap... We go outside.

He's nowhere to be seen. We had been calling his name but he is not answering (he was capable).

5 minutes....

We check the pool. We check the house again, around furniture, closets, under the couch (seriously, you'd be surprised where they'll squeeze into), the bedrooms. Nothing. I go back outside while FFK continues to search the house. My sister joins me shortly after. (FFM and BIL- also a FF- are out in my car test driving it). We walk around the house and check the neighbor's yards, calling his name. Nothing.

10  minutes....

Panic sets in. Where is my son? Why won't he answer? How far could he have traveled? I can see across the fields surrounding the house and I see nothing. The forests (we were in the countryside) are beyond the fields on each side. A major roadway is off to the north. Could he have made it to the woods that quickly? Could someone have picked him up off the road that soon? I start walking. I'm screaming his name...

15 minutes....

Still nothing. FFK is still searching the house. Since she's pregnant she got left to mind the house and kids and watch to see if he comes back. She keeps searching the house. My sister is traveling in the opposite direction of me. She spots her husband on the roadway but can't reach him, he's too far and cell service is bad in the area. Should I call the police? Will they think I'm a bad mother? Where is my son? Why did he run away from me? Could he have made it to the woods? What if he get's hurt? What if we can't find him? He'll never survive the night alone...

20 minutes...

I'm in a full panic. I get a text message out to M. He can't get to me but asks me to keep him posted. Grandma has been called (I don't remember by who). She's out of town so she can't help. I'm still screaming my son's name. Walking across the field towards a baseball field. Is he hiding in the dugout? Why won't he answer? Where is he? Why? Why? Why?

25 minutes...

M asks for an update. Still nothing. I'm still walking. Screaming. Now I'm crying. Should I call the police? Search and rescue? What if they say I'm a bad mother? What if they take him away from me? I'm with the very firemen who would search for him... If BIL wants to bring in reinforcements, ok. I love my son! I am a good mother! Why did he run off on me?

30 minutes...

I'm crying. I'm hoarse. I can barely get his name across my lips. I'm still walking. Still searching. Sobbing. Where can he be? Is he in the woods? Why won't he answer? Did someone take him? He'll never survive the night.... My mind is racing with grotesque images and every worst case scenario... Wolves.... Bears... Creeks.... Strangers....

35 minutes...

M messages me again. Do I need him? He's still delayed. Sis gets BIL. BIL and FFM start driving around the roadways looking for him, they hadn't seen him yet. FFK says he's still not around the house. Another friend joins the search and goes another direction. I can barely yell his name. Grief has taken over. Am I a bad mother? No! Stop thinking that!

40 minutes...

I can barely move. I can't see through my tears. I'm still walking... I'm on the verge of becoming a useless heap in someone's field. Where is my son? Why can't we find him? BIL doesn't see him on the roads. They keep looking. He'll never survive the night... Will they take my son away? Why did he do this? Why did he run? Where is he? Why can't I find him?

45 minutes...

I'm in the field. I can't move. I can't see. I could have been crawling at that point for all I know. Panic and grief have completely taken over... I'm lost. I feel hopeless. I feel like he's gone...

Suddenly I hear my name. The friend who joined the search is running towards me with the house phone. He's yelling. Running full speed to me.

They found him.

Words cannot describe how I felt. Where did they find him? Is he ok? Why did he do it?

I flew back to the house... I was completely overcome with a mix of relief, joy, and (I admit) anger.

Sheer luck brought him back to me. Yes, I said it, LUCK. FFK found him when she caught him sneaking back into the house.

I hugged him. I hugged the stuffing out of that kid. I'm pretty sure I hugged him so tight his eyes were threatening to pop out of his head. I cried some more. I asked him why he didn't answer me, why he didn't respond when he heard his name. I was angry. I was upset. I was hurt. He sat there, mute, unanswering. He didn't know why. Or at least (as I understand now) he had no way to tell me. He knew what he did. You could see it in his eyes. He kept saying he was sorry. He cried.

He was within 2 steps of me for the next 2 hours until we left. He had to remain within eyesight of me. Two.Steps.Away at most. This did mean he spent a considerable portion of his afternoon sitting on the garage floor.

Two years later, I know. I understand. He was mad. He was upset. He wanted to get away from being upset. So he walked off. He was taking a break in his mind. Escaping.

You think it won't happen to you, but then it does. We no longer have time outs. We now have time ins. If you don't know what that is, it's the exact opposite of a time out. Instead of him going to a corner or couch, he sits right next to me. Literally. Until I say he can go, he's stuck hip to hip with me. Time outs are too dangerous now.

To this day he still wanders but nothing like that day. I am lucky in that. Grateful even. He is now afraid of losing me (not sure why but I'm not going to argue the result). He now keeps me within eyesight. 

Locks have been installed (see previous post here) and continuous measures have been taken. I am constantly adjusting as he ages and gets bigger, more independent in ability and thinking. I honestly don't know what I will do when he's bigger than me and older. What will I do when I can no longer force him to hold my hand? I can't harness him. He won't fit into a stroller. I dread those days to come.

The fear remains. It's ever constant. I am hyper-vigilant. I have to be. I became the helicopter parent I never thought I'd have to be. The fear never leaves me. The store. School. Grandma's house. M's house. Aunt's house. It.Never.Leaves.

I will do what I need to in order to keep my precious baby safe.

Rest in peace Mikaela Lynch, Owen Black, Andrew Howell, and Freddie Williams. Angels taken from us far too soon.

Big Red Safety Box
Project Lifesaver
Autism Wandering and Elopement Initiative

Completely Helpless...

Last night I had dress rehearsal for my show. I was hoping for the best but ended up with one of those situations that I dread being caught in...

Since I couldn't take the kiddo with me and M was up he stayed home with him. We started new data so I talked him through what to do and and wished him luck with homework. I was out the door by 6:20pm. I didn't really anticipate anything major happening. As you know, M and A are two peas in a pod and have a lot of fun together. I figured the kiddo would protest his homework a bit as he always does with me but still do it. I knew M would be able to easily deal with any behaviors and fuss he put forth so I wasn't worried. The kiddo hates homework...

It all started with a text message at 7:06 from M:

We hadn't started yet as we were still waiting for the newspaper to show up to take pictures so I got the message pretty quick:

That didn't go over well.... I am stunned by the reaction...

Did you hear the crack? Pretty sure my heart just split in two... Of course there was no way for me to get to him either so I was left fretting and trying to figure out what to do from where I was. I kept telling myself M had everything in hand and tried to keep from entering freak-out mode...

What felt like an eternity later:

Crap... I have no idea where to go from here. It doesn't appear he's calming down at all and I'm still stuck. I'm afraid to let him off the homework hook (and in a sense giving him negative (avoidance) reinforcement to do this again tomorrow) but I don't want to drive him too far. The decision ultimately falls to me so...

That's right. Mommy gave up the fight. I knew we needed to get the kiddo calmed down asap. Everything is lost once things start flying. I then asked if anything was broken, since I'm an idiot and have antiques out... But in my defense, things rarely get broken and the cat broke the last antique that bit the dust...

Did you hear that? Yep. My heart cracked again.... Him hiding is usually indicative of worse behaviors to come (or a complete surrender, it's 50/50 but I wasn't home...) so I had to ask if there was any SIBs.... Then naturally freaked out in the process....

Then because I can be a jerk sometimes he added:

*corrected to him not home (Autocorrect got him, haha!)

During this time and the following hour I kept running to the dressing room between scenes to check my phone for the latest updates on what is going on. I felt like a crazy woman rushing around, concerned and distracted by what my son is going through and trying to focus on my lines. It was very difficult to do. As you can imagine, it is quite the distraction.

Around 8:13 pm I received this email:

You can see the picture of the homework page he wanted help with and his request for my help. Since the theater is in an old school and is also a nuclear fallout shelter (comforting, no?) I have no idea what time he actually sent it. Signal is really bad in that building....

After A had calmed down, order was restored and he settled to have a snack and snuggle in on the couch. When I came home M told me that the kiddo was so worn out that he fell asleep on the couch early (bedtime is 9) and he carried him up. I went up to check on him and he was sleeping away.

This morning when the kiddo woke up he came and snuggled in. There was no hint of the upset from last night. My only clue that something was ever amiss was that he was slightly clingy and actually snuggled in this morning. Usually he sits on the bed somewhere and asks for the iPad. There were lots of hugs too. He was quite happy when I dropped him off at school this morning.

We are a little baffled by what made him go over the edge like this. Unfortunately there is no way to really know. The only thing we can suspect is that he's been a little more anxious lately. Hopefully tonight will go a little more easily.

I can hope right? :)

We adjust. We adapt. We overcome.

Often when we talk about our lives with Autism we keep it sunny. We try to show the lighter side. We are hesitant to share the dark moments, the negativity, the trials, the tribulations, the tears.

We are afraid.

We feel hopeless.

We don't want the "stigma."

The reality is, we face some pretty hard stuff with our kiddos.

We deal with self-injurious behaviors. We deal with aggression. We deal with meltdowns. We get hit, punched, bruised, and cry. Sometimes it's a rare occurrence. Sometimes, it can be daily.

It isn't often that anyone speaks about it. Often, when someone does they are criticized and called horrible parents. Those that judge are those who have no idea. They have no experience. They have no understanding. Or, if they have kiddos on the spectrum, they are in a deep state of denial that they cannot possibly admit that they sometimes feel like failures. That they too, do these things and feel what they feel. No one wants to admit that it can happen to them.

We try to know all the answers. We pretend. We fight. We put up a strong front.

I don't care who you are. Mom. Dad. Grandma. Grandpa. Aunt. Uncle. Sibling. Friend. You do it too.

This is the voice that is lost. This is what we are missing. This is the part of our journey through the adventure of life that can help others not feel like an island.

Don't get me wrong here, though. Are things often fantastic? Yes. Do we love our children unconditionally? Yes. Do we accept them and love them as they are for all their quirks and hardships? You betcha. Would we change them? In my case, absolutely not.

But surely the world cannot expect that our children do not misbehave. That they do not have meltdowns (not the same as tantrums!). That they do not have off moments.

That would be as lacking as the assumption that they are not loving, fun, enjoyable, creative, little human beings with a ton of love and happiness to share.

My son loves to be happy. He strives to please. He's very creative. He's even working on the 4th book in his little chapter book series. He is the most loving child I know. He wants to snuggle, play, dote on the cats, and create. He is a great inventor after all. :)

But even we have our off moments. Our not so sunny days. It would be wrong to deny us that admission. It would be wrong to judge us differently or more harshly as a result of it. We aren't any different. We just have different trials.

We adjust. We adapt. We overcome.

Maybe, Just Maybe...

I am currently reading Loud Hands Autistic People, Speaking. If you haven't picked up a copy, do it. You will be thankful you did.

As I sit reading this anthology I can't help but cry. I cry on just about every page. But I'm not crying in a bad way. I'm crying in a good way.

The more I read the more I think that maybe, just maybe I am doing things right for my son.

Maybe, just maybe, I am not screwing him up...

When I send away or cancel TSS's and therapists because I know he doesn't have the ability (or spoons) to do anything more that day.

When I let him roam freely around the house lost in his own world chattering for hours on end without interrupting him, unless absolutely necessary.

When I allow him to hole up in a corner on the other end of the house for hours without batting an eye.

When I take him for a car ride at 10 pm because he can't sleep and wants to feel the vibrations and peace of the car.

When so-called professionals criticize me for not being strict enough, enforcing enough, drawing some boundary or another, and I let it roll off because they don't know him like I do.

When I let him crawl into my bed at 2 am because he needs the sensory warmth and pressure of my arms hugging him.

When I'm criticized (again) for not "structuring" his weekend into perfect schedules, instead preferring to let the days go as they may (which he needs after a structured week).

When I break things down into more manageable pieces so he doesn't get overwhelmed.

When I allow him to perseverate, stim, flap, whatever, away without so much as batting an eye.

When I allow him to feel the fabrics of any prospective clothes to make sure he can tolerate how they feel.

When I feed into his Super Mario "obsession."(Which I get criticized for too.)

When I continually ignore the latest Autism "must try" trend. (If it isn't broken why fix it? And y'all know my view on "broken.")

When I let him pick dinner nearly every night instead of having it be a reward (yeah, a reward? pshaw!!) even if it ends up being the same thing 5 nights in a row.

When I remain flexible and open to the fact that I might be wrong.

When I stop and listen. Truly listen. To him. To other Autistics.

When I adjust my day, my schedule, based on the spoons he has left so I don't stress him.

When he is unable to speak and I give him a pencil and piece of paper to write or draw instead.

When I make him promises, no matter how crazy they seem to others, and keep them.

When I let him, be him.

Isn't that what loving and cherishing your child is all about? Embracing every bit of them, adjusting your reality and your perceptions, to give them an emotionally positive, validating environment in which to grow and bloom?

I am told I spoil him, I'm not strict enough, I'm too flexible, I cater to him, I enable him, etc.

I disagree. I love, support, and embrace him. I'm sensitive to his needs, and for good reason.

I have one heck of an amazing young man in my house. I am proud to be his mommy. And I know he's thankful to have me. Heck, he told me he was the luckiest boy ever to have a mom like me. :)

Sometimes the most well intentioned things, aren't.

Sometimes we do things with the best intention in mind. We do what we feel is right for the time and situation. We study. We research. We ask. We think we have it all figured out.

Then we realize we don't.

If you've been following my page for the last couple of months you may see where this is going. The kiddo was diagnosed ADHD last summer. I had held of on doing it officially but decided that it was time so we could do something about it as it was affecting him at school. You can read about it here. The problem with Autism/ADHD is that it is EXTREMELY difficult to know what is the Autism and what is the ADHD. Extremely. Like, to the point of impossible and it's really just a guessing game.

Naturally, the doctor wanted to start him on a stimulant. This seemed to work at first but every couple of weeks it would seem to wear off and they'd up the dose. Eventually we got to a point where it couldn't continue. By the end of November his tic was so bad he couldn't speak, he was getting headaches, he was drawing incessantly (and crying over how he couldn't stop himself), and he stopped sleeping entirely for 2 weeks until he was pulled from that medicine. (It took that long because the doctor was consistently out of the office and the nurses were afraid to pull him off of it due to the nature of the drug. Ugh....)

They switched him to a non-stimulant. I won't go into detail but let's just say things got a lot worse and reached crisis levels. Every day wasn't all bad, just a lot of not so good stuff. My son was gone. He was saying and doing things that no parent ever wants to experience. His main complaint was that he didn't feel like himself. He was depressed. He was angry. He was irritable and uncooperative. The agency he gets services from was becoming increasingly concerned. We got in to a psychiatrist to take over management of his medications. We got approved for family based services.

Our first appointment with the psychiatrist was earlier this month. My first words? I HATE his medication, it made him WORSE. The recommended medication change was as I expected: Risperdal. It is very commonly subscribed to Autistics. But I had a very important question for the guy. The question is this: how do we know that his behaviors aren't a result of him being a high anxiety child? What if he's unfocused because he's busy worrying about his plush toys or if mommy will be home tonight? What if he's just appearing hyper because he is nervous and antsy over what may be happening later? What if his tantrums and meltdowns are solely because he is so worried about something that when he's prompted to do something it causes an abrupt stop in his thought train that he just can't cope and we don't know that is what is happening?

I wanted to STOP the GUESSING GAME!!!

He seriously just sat there and looked at me for a minute. Then he agreed with me. Then he suggested a much more conservative approach. We are trying a low dose anti-anxiety medication. 

It has been a little over 3 weeks since we quit his last ADHD medication. It has been 3 weeks since he started the anti-anxiety medication. While the new medication has not been around long enough to do anything significant yet it has been plenty long enough for the other stuff to get out of his system.

The results are amazing.

To put it simply, I have my kid back.

He's running. He's jumping. He's giggling. He's grinning. He's cracking jokes. He's the goofball we all know and have been missing all these months.

When asked how he feels.... He is saying HE IS HAPPY!

My intuition has been that we were missing the mark. It seems my intuition was right.

Deafness, Autism, and Hope

I've never really considered myself disabled. Am I? Yes. To make it simple, I'm deaf in both ears. To make it technical, I have a moderate bi-lateral hearing loss. I've worn hearing aids in both ears since I was 3. But I'm not disabled in the sense most people associate it. After all, I can do anything anyone else can do. In fact, most people don't even notice due to how well I can speak. (I spent a couple years in speech therapy for that and man did it pay off!) I don't consider myself disabled because it doesn't stop me from doing anything. It doesn't hold me back. It used to. But not anymore.

Lately there has been a lot of discussion comparing visible and invisible disabilities. So by those terms, I have a visible one, my son has an invisible one.

Are we different? Not really. We see the world very differently than your average non-disabled person. We are prone to suffer the same prejudices that others harbor.  Heck, I've even been fired from a job because I was deaf. (Hopefully he will never experience that...)

We both have issues with sound and touch. This may sound funny to you, especially when you consider that I'm deaf. However, as with Autism, there are varying degrees and grades of deafness. Some deaf people can hear frequencies that others cannot. (Yes FREQUENCY! Low, high, middle, all levels!) It resembles a spectrum if you need to think of a parallel.

As an added bit to blow your  mind... My alarm clock (which sits on the average bed table) vibrates. I "hear" (aka feel) the vibration long before I actually hear the alarm. Crazy isn't it? I can feel vibrations a little better than your average Joe. Just please don't slam any doors around me. :)

I have my own coping devices, just as he has his. And yes, I can get just as overwhelmed. We both HATE crowds. Really for the same reason. He can't process all the information at once and neither can I. Unlike hearing people, I can't filter the sound I hear through my hearing aids. I can't distinguish one thing from another or even figure out which direction it's coming from. It's simply everything, coming in all at one time, at the same volume, regardless of what it is. It is then up to my brain to actually figure out the who, where, and what and make sense of this jumble that is flying into my ears. Sound familiar?

I can't hear the upper frequency. Women's voices are often lost to me, especially if she has a soft or higher pitched voice. It's the same frequency that can send my son flying to the floor crying out in despair. Naturally, it took a long time for me to make that connection. Hard to figure out what you can't hear, right?

My ability to hear definitely affects my day to day life as much as Autism affects his. We both have to cope with a world that doesn't care to accommodate for us. I miss A LOT trying to hear and understand what people are saying. Some people speak way to quietly. Some are on the wrong frequency. I can't understand heavy accents. God help me if someone is talking to me over the phone. I have to actually sit and attempt to process the information really fast and retain it so that maybe, just maybe I will remember it later all by the time they finish speaking. It's the same for my son, but for a different reason.

For the record, this is why my mom goes to EVERYTHING with me (exception well visits and Autism related services visits). She probably doesn't even know this is the reason. But it is. I fear I will miss some critical piece of information or not understand something that is said because I missed a word or three.

Some people do seek to understand how I hear. I do my best to explain. The thing most people don't think of is how other senses are heightened because of the loss of one. I'm VERY sensitive to touch for example. A simple touch or brush can hurt. Tickling is excruciating... When they seek to understand how I struggle to hear, even with the hearing aids I use the crowds example. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes not. Depends on the ability of the asker to see a little abstractly.

When I think about how it was growing up for me and think about how he's growing up now I can't help but want things to be very different. Thirty years ago disabilities weren't regarded the way they are now. I was ostracized all through elementary school. I was "different." I was misunderstood. I was the kid you didn't acknowledge.  Middle school wasn't a whole lot better but it was there that I was able to form friendships that I still have to this day. It wasn't until I got into high school that I developed the mentality that this is who I am, it's made me who I am, and if you have an issue with it then that is your problem not mine. My whole world view changed. By the time I hit college was was a completely different person. Even now most people do not believe that I was a shy, quiet, hardly-spoke-a-word, hiding in a corner girl. I'm far too outspoken, opinionated, and outgoing to give a hint as to who I used to be.

I want my son's experience to be different.

I was terrified when my son entered Kindergarten. Would those peers be just as cruel? Would they be able to accept him? Would his quirks separate him and keep him from having friends?

I was surprised by the answers.

He was welcomed by his peers with open arms. In fact there were a couple of older kids who tucked my son up under their wing and helped and protected him.  I was thrilled.  I was awed.  I wanted to hug those kids till they cried "uncle!"

Thankfully this has remained the case for him. We did have to change schools after Kindergarten to another school in the district who could provide more support. He was met in that school the same way.  I often hear about how kids tolerate some of his more odd behaviors, his mood swings, and even when he tantrums. They understand that it's just how he is. They don't hold it against him. They remain friendly, social, and helpful.

This gives me hope that things really have changed over the years.  That our innocent NT children are, at least for a little while, unaffected by the biases and prejudices of their parents for long enough that they can see the truth and reality for what it is. And in the process, recognize and accept these kiddos for who they are and what they can do. I just hope this extends into adulthood...

We have one more year before he heads off to middle school for 6th grade (he's in 4th now). I can only hope that through the pains and attitudes that often accompany adolescence, that this trend continues. He will likely end up in a school back on our side of town, away from these kiddos who know him so well.

Maybe we've just been lucky so far, but...

I have hope.

Dear Country Fair Employee...

Dear Country Fair Employee,

Thank you for what you did tonight. You did not know that my son was Autistic. You didn't know that he often appears to overreact to what seems like simple situations. You didn't know what could possibly have fueled his screaming panic all over the store. All you knew was that this 10 year old boy was missing a glove.

What you also didn't know, was that the glove was really his mommy's and he was borrowing them for his hands because he has sensory issues and can't wear his own. You didn't know that he is very protective of mommy's things and that he couldn't possibly accept losing her glove.

When you saw his distress you didn't judge, you didn't roll your eyes, you didn't even flinch. You simply dropped what you were doing, walked over to him, and offered to help find his missing glove. You did your best to keep him calm while his mommy finished the checkout. You walked around the store with him asking him about the glove and assuring him you two would find it before long.

You even found the glove and were rewarded with his beaming happy face. If his face wasn't enough, then surely his "thank-yous" were. Without even knowing my son has Autism, you simply reacted to a boy in distress, and immediately wanted to help. You gave him patience and understanding. Something we are not often met with at times like this.

When we got home my son commented on how "that 'county fair' employee helped" him out. He was so thrilled and awed by your kindness.

Thank you for helping him. And thank you for making this mommy thankful for people like you.

(Editor's note: For those of you unfamiliar with what a Country Fair is, it is a gas station and convenience store located where we live. The store was small so I was able to see my son's every move. It not only made it easy to note my son's distress, but also to see the employee's reactions and how helpful he was.)

I Just Need a Lot of Love, Mom

The past couple of nights have held the same cycle for us. The kiddo gets sent to bed. He comes downstairs pretending to sleepwalk. He walks over, curls up in my lap, and pretends he's fast asleep.

If I try to move him he puts on a pretty convincing performance of being asleep and unaware.

Well, convincing if it wasn't for the grin on his face. Oh how he warms my heart!

Tonight it was different.

On his way up the stairs to go to bed he dropped his container holding a bunch of food shaped erasers. He started freaking out about it because he knew he was supposed to be upstairs and he was still in the hall scrambling to pick them up. He gets upset when things don't go according to plan because he knows it can lead to "unexpected" behavior (thanks to his bsc for that gem.... /sarcasm) which really only serves to upset him more. I hear him scrambling and ask him what's going on.

I'm met with panic, whining, and him making his usual freak out noises.

I ask him again what is going on, hoping he'll just say it (I can't see him because I'm still in the living room). Same response. So I get up and to go see. He hears me walking and starts freaking out more. I walk in, assess what's going on, I tell him it's ok and to simply finish picking them up and get his teeth brushed.

I leave the hallway, hoping he'll calm down once he realizes that he was not in trouble. I hear him go upstairs and think everything is ok.  Not so much...

He's back on the steps and freaking out again. So I go investigate. By the time I get to him he's in full freak out mode. He's running to me, then away from me. He's covering his face with his hands. He's on the verge of simply falling to a heap on the floor. He can't find one of them.

I ask if he checked under the dresser in the hall. He's so busy freaking out that he tells me he can't look. Very typical when he's upset. He literally loses control and even if you walk him through something, he's just frozen and can't figure out how to do it. He just falls apart with any further attempt. So I look. It's not anywhere I can see. I tell him just to run upstairs and check his room where he has the others and make sure he actually dropped it.

Insert another freak out. I tell him he may have to go without for tonight as he has to get to bed for school and I can find it tomorrow.

Wrong answer mom.

This sent him totally over the edge. This is usually how he would respond if it was a Mario plush toy. He was crying, freaking out, total negative self talk, and talking about how he couldn't do without it.

Oy.

I have a feeling he never lost it since I can't find it anywhere. Next task? Get him back up to his room and see.

After practically carrying him upstairs, he goes running into his room and lands on his bed. His lamp isn't even on yet. This is a sure sign that all is not right. He's petrified of the dark... So I turn on his lamp, ask him where they are, and to check.

Wrong again mom...

He's now throwing himself around on the floor crying. Ok, so I will check. Lo and behold...

Yeah, he never lost it.

He immediately freezes again, panics, starts crying all over again, and repeatedly tells me he's sorry he didn't listen and check.  I keep telling him it's ok and he's just tired, he has it now, so let's go to sleep. I assure him that I love him and leave his room.

He comes down not too long later with a note and huge pout. I have him sit next to me and ask what is wrong. He's just crying. I read the note and it reads: Dear Mommy my haert (sic) is broken :( </3 :( :( from A. :( </3 </3

I give him a hug and tell him everything is ok and that I love him. He tells me he just needs some love.

Oh, this momma has lots of love to give! So we sit. Him snuggled into my side. I "give" him a piece of my "heart" (a total pantomime gesture he started long ago with me when he was sad and was missing pieces of his heart and would ask for pieces of mine to make his heart whole) to help his heart feel better.

He smiles. He feels better. He tells me he just needed a lot of love. I said, ok. Then he says: If I ever have too much love then I will always be happy.

Heartmelt!

We go back upstairs. I tuck him in again. He smiles all happy and snuggles into his blanket.

Half an hour later he is "sleepwalking" down to me and snuggles back in my lap.

I'd say all has returned to our normal.

As he lays sleeping and I sit pondering all of this I can't help but think: how true is what he said? "I just needed a lot of love." In that moment when he was upset, confused, frozen, etc, all he needed was a little bit of love for those dark skies open right back up again. And he knew it. His self awareness reappears again.

I admit, I met him with some frustration. He has school tomorrow, he's good at delays, heck I'm just tired after this long weekend... I stand corrected. He needed met with love.

Welcome to the circus!

Last Friday there was a circus. Well. Sort of. The Autistic support and life skills classrooms at the school have been working with the physical education teacher on different skills. You know, rope swinging, balance beams, hurtles, the like. They even prepared a couple of songs and dances!

One problem.

My kiddo goes to gym with his regular education class (he is the only one who does). He kept saying that he couldn't do the circus because he was too embarrassed. I kept telling him he would be ok but to no avail. As chance would have it I subbed at his school that morning. At some point in my morning I looked up to see one of his aides at the door. She said he was adamant that he was not going to do the circus and to find them before I left.

Oh boy.

So before I left (and about 2 hours to circus time) I went by his AS room and found him there on the computer. I asked him why he couldn't do the circus and he kept insisting that he would be embarrassed. I knew there had to be more to it because this kiddo is active and agile and he could do everything that they were going to demonstrate for us.

I thought for a moment. Then it hit me. They started rehearsing for the circus around the time of his surgery in November. He goes to class with his regular education classroom, not his AS room. AHA! So I asked him, "Is it because you didn't get to practice enough?"

"Yeah."

Bingo! So we made a deal. I was going to come anyway "just in case" he changed his mind. When I got there I would sit right up front and he and his TSS would join me. He could skip the parade in and the little song and dance number (he's not a big dance-y kid anyway). But when it came time for the skills he would join his classmates.

This went somewhat successfully as he walked with clown feet, did a bean bag toss, swung on a rope, climbed some rope obstacle, and walked the balance beam. He skipped juggling, plate spinning, hurtle jumping, and scooters. Then he parked it right back beside me for the rest of the presentation.  And took pictures with my phone. Oh, the number of pictures he took!

As for the rest of the kiddos, they proudly completed their tasks while stimming, running lose, and screaming their little hearts out. I would say it was a day for all of us parents (and grandparents) to be extremely proud!

Migraines, trantrums, and "wth?"

When you suffer from migraines frequently like I do (the kind that never actually go away, leave you literally on the floor, eyes squeezed shut, completely down for the count and incapable of even making a squeak) you end up with a lot of time to think. Since you can't do anything else but lay there and you don't really want to dwell on the fact that your head will probably explode at any second, you try to occupy yourself. 

Today as I laid on the couch with two of my kitty pride purring away all cuddled up with me, while my totally awesome and thankfully pretty independent child kept as quiet as he was physically able, very mindful of Mommy's ailment, I had that opportunity. These are the kind of moments you have as a single mom where you have those "what if" and "holy crap" moments. While I have learned to function despite the pain, nausea, sensitivity, etc, that goes with migraines, enough to know that if something major happened I'd still be able to work our way through it, I still freak out a little over not being able to respond.

This thought path led me to think about how hard it is to be single mom with an Autistic child. I have pretty much spent the last (almost) 10 years raising this kiddo alone. I've been getting these knock down, drag, out, ha-ha you can't do sh*t today cause of me type migraines for over 15 years. Never did I think I would ever have to figure out how to manage the two. All I can say is, "Thank god my mom lives so close!!!!" Over the years it has become a less frightening thing for me as my son gains independence and knows what do to do if something happens. Granted he'd most likely call Grandma before 911, but I'll take it!

This then led me to think about how hard it is in the dating world to find someone who can honestly handle kiddos like mine.  Thankfully, I found such a guy in my fiance, M. He is actually a little upset that he is out of town right now and unable to be here during this current episode. All I can think is, "How lucky am I?" while I sit and smile to myself. In the past with guys I've dated, they've just avoided me like the plague. This guy wants to be here, knowing all he can do is curl up with me on the couch, make sure I'm ok, and take care of my son.

Holy golden jackpot, Batman!

This then led me to think backwards through our relationship and how M has been with my son. There was a very defining moment for me, early in our relationship, where I knew we'd be ok with M. We had been together for maybe just over a month.  I had to go to rehearsal and M said he'd watch the kiddo and everything would be ok. This stopped me dead, for two reasons really. One: I never leave him with anyone who doesn't know this kid inside and out, and two: I was sure that the relationship would be heading out the door in the days following... After all, at this point I was used to people running from our situation. After he assured me many times over and told me to get the hell out already, I went to rehearsal, frequently checked in, got reports that all was well. When I got home both were all smiles and they were watching Over the Hedge. I sent the kiddo to bed and everything seemed fine.

Then that defining moment happened.

When I came back downstairs I sat on the couch. M looked at me and said he had something to show me.  While I was gone the kiddo had misplaced a toy. At the time he was still very much of the mindset that if it wasn't where he thought it was then it was gone forever, stolen, missing, he'd never see it again. Well, apparently he lost something. M had recorded the ensuing tantrum partly so I could see what happened, but I think, mostly because he was actually quite amused by it. Why was he amused? Well... M is an extremely laid back kind of guy, very sharp contrast to me for sure. Not much ruffles him at all. My son can be overly dramatic and somewhat theatrical.  Picture a scenario like this:

A is laying on a stability ball, crying, screaming, yelling, just losing his mind, incapable of listening to reason.

A: It's gone! I'll never find it! Mom will be mad cause I lost it! (screaming continues)
M: Well, if you can stop crying long enough and tell me what it looks like then we can find it.
A: It's gone! I'll never see it again!
M: It's not gone, we can find it. Why don't you tell me what it looks like?
A: (screaming and sobbing) It's gone!!! I'll never get it back!!!! (more sobbing)
M: A, we can find it. I promise. If you can tell me what it looks like I can help you find it.

This goes on for about 5 minutes or so when...

A suddenly stops.... Looks at M.... And asks hopefully, "We can find it?? Really?"
M: (chuckling at how it suddenly and finally sunk in) Yes buddy, we can find it. What does it look like?
A: Let's look for it! Maybe we can find it!
M: (more chuckling)

The wayward toy was found within 5 minutes.

Throughout the exchange you could hear M give a little chuckle during the times when A got overly dramatic (which I will admit, those moments really are funny). What got me the most, was how calm M was the ENTIRE time and how he instinctively and simply talked A through the crisis. M just kept on talking to him, trying to talk him down and realize that the world was not ending.

That's exactly what I do with him. Well, bugger. And it just came to him naturally.

I never hesitated over the idea of leaving those two alone together from that day on. The two of them are like partners in crime hiding evidence of ice cream cones and comrades in arms when ganging up on Mommy. And let's face it, sometimes he's better at handling times of crisis than I am!

I snuggled down further into the couch pillows and kitty fur. Yeah, we'll be just fine. Are we lucky or what?

The First Week has Come and Gone....

Whew! The first week of school has come and gone and we survived. Both of us. We had a few homework battles but that is to be expected, right? It seems the Star Chart and earning the Mario plush toys has been a huge motivator for him and works wonderfully as a behavior modification plan. It has become one of my greatest ideas! Even his BSC is impressed. She even mentioned it in a meeting with her coworkers and supervisors! Whoo hoo!

Anyway, back off the side road... I've added a couple of things to his "required" items that are school related that I like quite a bit. Not only is homework one (being our biggest battle and I was forewarned he'd have math homework every night) but reading me a book is also one. On nights he doesn't have homework like Fridays and weekends? Well, he can read me another book. That makes two books and he can get his homework star! It's a great way for him to work on his reading fluency. (Can you tell I'm a teacher?)

This has actually worked out well. My fiance and I just love listening to him read. He'll do all the little voices of the characters and uses inflection! It's pretty impressive really. Not to mention how he does love to read. We have more books in this house then I have shelves to put them on! Every time the book fair comes to school this kid gets to go with a surprising amount of money and get several books. The teachers looked at me funny at first, but now they know! He'll spend every last dollar! He even helps the school aides set up the book swap and they'll let him choose a couple books in trade. He keeps bringing out books to read that I've never seen before!

What makes this chart even better right now? Since he has his own chores to do, like feed the cats and empty/fill the dishwasher and my favorite -clean up his toys, it leaves me a little more time to work on my classes for my Masters (Special Education for anyone who isn't aware). So far my house has remained relatively clean and therefore, my sanity is remaining somewhat intact. I HATE clutter. It messes with my mind. I also hate stepping on toys. Especially Legos. What makes those things hurt so much?

Anyways.... His ADHD meds haven't done a whole lot yet so his doctor doubled them. Hopefully we can see some change and we never get to "hell week." That week should be coming up soon. You know, the week where the novelty of new teachers and new classmates wears off and all hell breaks loose? I'm hoping that this year, it never happens.  Guess we'll see.

Another great thing? Sleep. Yep, I said it. He's SLEEPING! Since the melatonin dose was so high and not being effective his doc put him on a sleep aid and by golly.... It works! He's asleep within half an hour and out cold.... ALL NIGHT! Holy cow! No more 4 am eyeballs peeking over the edge of the mattress! HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I've gotten comments about how much more rested he seems at school and how he's in a much better mood walking to his class in the morning than he was last year or any other year. Yes!  Since I drop him off in the morning before school starts now he is able to wake up on his own and start his own day before we go. This is a huge plus since it's his natural clock at work here! Dropping him off and picking him up at the end of the day also gives me the face to face time with his AS teacher and aides. They actually told me last week that since they see me every afternoon they weren't going to write in the communication log because it takes too much time and they'd just talk to me when I picked him up. Ok! We still write notes obviously if need be and can contact each other by cell phone.

So far 4th grade is shaping up to be a pretty good year for him. Here's to hoping it continues!