Send Chocolate
Mental Musings
a little bit nutty, somewhat chewy, ...cheaper than candy & half as sweet
4 "J's and a "T" in the O.C. Wheee! J is the Man of the House. JBug is my 14 year old daughter. JBear is my 9 year old son, with High Functioning Autism/Asperger's. JBean is my youngest daughter, at 6. Also just diagnosed with HFA. Then there's me. I'm just T. If you want to know more, just ask. My life is an open book. (if it wasn't, would I be doing this?)casadecruz at gmail dot com (surely you know how to convert that with one of these: @)
I had expectations, doesn't everyone? I expected to hold my child in my arms, cradling the downy softness of her head, next to my cheek. I expected to put her to my breast for the first time, meeting her eyes in solemn agreement. I supposed that I would hold her small hand tightly as she lifted her foot for the first time, coming down surely without landing on her bottom. I would see her beam proudly at her accomplishment.
I knew that there would be tantrums, two year old balled up fists and screams of rage. But it would be a stage, not a landing pad, and would pass quickly, into squeals of joy and chubby cheeked eskimo kisses. I expected life would be rosy. What I hadn't expected was the monster.
Who is the monster, you ask? The monster we live with day to day, isn't always out in the open. In fact, sometimes, it isn't visible at all. Those are times when she climbs onto my lap, cuddly with a book in tow. But in the back of my mind, I know that monster is lurking, ready to thump us all with a surprise attack. The evidence is everywhere: the set of the jaw when an answer isn't forthcoming. The balled fiststhat come from a level of anxiety that most people don't live under. The scream, that once it erupts, is more characterized by a car alarm than by a voice. The sibling rivalry which, while on the outside seems innocuous, often stems from misunderstandings and inability to read others' cues. At these times, a simple disagreement can erupt into screams, tears and ultimately, if I don't step in and referee quickly, fisticuffs.
This is the monster called Autism. It isn't always an easy houseguest. It leaves the toilet seat up. It uses the last of the milk and then puts the empty carton back in the fridge. It wipes its mouth with its' sleeve and then refuses to wash its shirt. It interrupts. It has terrible language. It yammers constantly about inane topics. It throws fits. It is a beast. A large, lumbering, elephant under the coffee table beast.
My first fleeting glimpse of this monster was when my son was two. Autism came to visit, but didn't stay long. I think it was just getting the lay of the land: checking out its new digs. It wasn't until my son was in the First Grade that autism moved in. Kindergarten had been uneventful. My son did well; we expected he was a genius since at 5 he knew all the colors in the Crayola box and told his teacher the sky was a beautiful shade of cerulean one day. He dressed as Indiana Jones, and well, though that was a bit er, eccentric, it was still pretty cool, so we indulged it. So what if he had to change to Indy clothes before the van left the curb after school? He was creative!
By the First Grade, it was apparent something was different in relation to his peers. JBear couldn't attend to the classroom. He wouldn't do his work. He spent most of the class time either cutting out pieces for an Indiana Jones board game he was devising, or huddled under a desk. Despite the fact that he had a full-time aide to help him, he couldn't handle the class. We saw the school psychologist. We saw a diagnostician. We saw a psychiatrist. We saw the large, black monster and named it for what it was: High Functioning Autism. Yes, he was brilliant, and stubborn and creative. He had interesting topics of conversation, as long as you were enthralled with his latest obsession, (if you could call it a conversation...mostly he talked and you listened). He had a hard time filtering out distractions, and needed textbooks that were "less busy" than the colorful Mtv-ish books that passed for curricula in public schools. I straightened my shoulders. Ok, we can deal with this, knowledge is power, and I am powerful. And Autism slunk behind us and followed us home.
We learned to cohabitate fairly well. Autism was mostly polite. It stayed out of the way. When it caused a ruckus I waved a stick called Intervention at it and it hid behind the sofa once again. And the years passed slowly on. I homeschooled. JBear learned to read. He learned to add, and subtract and measure. He learned to spell, somewhat. He learned to say, "Please" and "Thank You" and "I'm Sorry" and "I Love You." He learned to say he was hurting, he was angry, he needed help. Autism wasn't such a bad roommate after all.
And then, this last year, Autism stepped out of hiding again. My baby girl, my JBean, was diagnosed with Autistic Disorder, too. Here we go again. Autism erupted with a vengeance. It was twice as strong, wily and ready from its rest. It had learned a thing or two. It learned that loud voices add to already chaos. It learned that anxiety multiplied by two is quadrupled, because everyone suffers. It figured out that once the word is no, a fit is in order. And if not staved, the fit will become a tantrum, which will lead to tears, sometimes mine. It learned to steal my time, by interrupting every activity I try to engage in (yes, even writing) multiple times so that I want to cry in frustration, or just capitulate to its will and abandon my project. It learned to cause separation anxiety that is sometimes so terrible it isn't worth the leaving. It learned to change our lives.
But it isn't as bleak as it sounds. Having Autism as a houseguest makes me realize how thankful I am for the quiet moments. The cuddles in my bed as we are waking up. "Teeth check" after she has brushed her teeth at night before bed, and then the welcome laugh as she throws her arms around my neck spontaneously. Playing "What's This," and holding up my finger, answering the question with, "A Tickle!" and having her dissolve into giggles. Experiences that, by themselves are wonderful, but stolen from Autism make them all the sweeter.
I know my children aren't severely affected. Autism wreaks havoc in many lives, not just ours. But I only know what we experience day to day, living with this unwelcome guest. And now, you know, too. In time, I may be able to look at this monster and not think of it as the invader, the party crasher, the Kato Kaelin of my household. 
In time, if I don't push it, if I let it happen gradually, perhaps, I may eventually call the monster Life. Perhaps, it is almost too much to hope, I might call it Family.
T, who always feared monsters, but is learning to stand up to them
Labels: anxiety, Asperger's, autism, family, fears, High-Functioning Autism, monsters
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 3:02 PM
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T, who would love to show JBear Calvin, but I don't want to give him any ideas
Labels: Calvin, education, funny stuff, Hobbes, life lessons
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 8:33 PM
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One of the reasons I live in Southern CA is for the weather. What? You thought it was the excellent housing prices and lack of superficiality? I am not a huge fan of cold weather, hence, I live where it is temperate, some might say downright warm. I like that the snow is well-behaved here. It knows it's place. It perches up in the mountains where it belongs. If I want to ski or otherwise visit it, I travel about an hour and a half. Just about right. In return, it doesn't blow cold north winds inland.
But today, all bets were off. Something was seriously wacky with the weather in Orange County and the Inland Empire today. After a solid week of ninety to one-hundred-degree days (yes, I said 100 DEGREES) this week cooled off to around the early 70s with a cool wind. It was a cold slap in the face after last week's heat wave. I know, you feel so sorry for me, don't you? Bear with me.
Today it rained. But not just rained, it did weird things as well. It started out fine, just a bit of rain, late in the season, but doable. I had to take JBug to band practice, so we all piled in the car along with about umpteen billion other hapless mortals who decided to get stuck on the freeway doing twenty m.p.h. and little else. I rented a car today because mine was in the shop. I had never driven a PT Cruiser before, but it was a bit close to the ground for my taste. With the driving rain and the backed up drains, it was like being in a boat. The roads were awfully flooded; the drains just couldn't keep up with the deluge once the skies opened. JBug said, "Now we know how people in Venice feel!" (get it? The gondoliers pilot the canals).
In addition to the heavy rain, there was lightning and thunder and I said a prayer for Shaker you don't know Shaker? Oh, he is my baby, my Macbook Pro. He is gorgeous, with a red Speck case. I love him. I was busy all afternoon, and all I could think is that lighting would hit and my computer was only sleeping and it would be fried. Thankfully, that didn't happen.
After band, we were driving down the road when JBear said, "Hey there's snow!" Of course, that's ridiculous, because, well, we live in Orange County, and it is
Found out later that in addition to torrential rains, flash flooding, lightning, thunder and hail, there were also three tornadoes in Riverside County! I am thinking the end of the world here?
T, who is waiting for the frogs to fall
Labels: global warming, hail, Life in the OC, tornado, weather
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 10:26 PM
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Thirteen Things I Have To Do Today (crossed off things done)
1. Take van into mechanic. This is a new mechanic, a friend of mine has known since high school. He seems nice, and his office is a mess, always a good sign to me that he is good at what he does.
2. arrange rental car that doesn't cost an arm and a leg (Bad planning on my part, everyone wants to rent a car for the upcoming weekend. Leave it to me to try to rent a car on the busiest weekend of the year, Memorial Day Weekend! I ended up with a PT Cruiser, too expensive, but beggars can't be choosers.
3. Figure out what to do when I realize I left the car seat in the van and the van is already up on the lift at the mechanic's shop.
4. Call a friend and borrow her ancient booster seat, the one with no back.
5. Call my in laws to borrow their newer seat.
6. Drive to my friend's house to pick up the older seat. She lives close to me, and my in laws live 20 minutes away. I need the car seat from my friend to get to my in laws, where I can borrow the other seat.
7. Take oldest daughter to band lesson. All kids come with. We can hang out in the lobby area, the kids play and I chat with a friend.
8. Take the kids to in law's house again, drop the younger two off for babysitting.
9. Take oldest daughter to her doctor's appointment. She really likes him and has been seeing him since she was in the 4th grade. I like him, too.
10. Stop at AM/PM for our traditional snack afterwards. I usually get a Kit Kat and a Pepsi, or guacamole chips. RIght now, though, with my mouth being sore, I might just forgo the snack.
11. pick up kids from in laws after appointment
12. drive to grocery store to get milk and a few other odds and ends. Pray the kids can handle the trip and that it will be done quickly.
13.finish this T-13. and figure out something for dinner. J is going to take JBear to the Indiana Jones movie, so the girls and I will have a nice "girl's night" while they are gone. Maybe we will get pizza!
*I also need to get my house cleaned since a friend of mine is coming to visit...hoping that will happen this evening.
T, who is tired already, just looking at the list
View More Thursday Thirteen ParticipantsLabels: family, life, Thursday 13, Thursday Thirteen
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 11:21 AM
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Today Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter, age 5, was struck and killed by a vehicle in her driveway, driven by her older brother. It was a tragic accident. Please pray for this family, for peace, for healing. And pray for her brother, who now has to live with this awful mistake. Pray that he would not be bogged down by guilt. This is a family who will desperately need God's grace and his healing. Again, please keep them in your prayers.
This is his newest song...written for his daughters, back in February, because he realized he needed to slow down and spend time with his girls while they were young, because it goes by so fast. Cinderella:
Story here Also videos discussing how he wrote the song. Have tissues handy.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some daughters to hold.
T, who has no words
no Technorati labels tonightLabels: Questions for God
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 11:30 PM
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T, who took this picture from the 4th floor of the Metreon in S.F.
Labels: memes, travel, Wordless Wednesday
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 12:29 AM
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There are times I think my kids would be better off with "normal" parents. Some of my influence really rubs off on them. I have always been a bit "left of center" in the arena of Pop Culture, I guess. But more and more I am discovering that I am corrupting my progeny. Just look at the evidence:
1) This morning I was sitting on my bed, and my daughter brought me a stuffed white rabbit to cuddle. This was very sweet, and empathetic, since I wasn't having a good day. JBear, though, saw the rabbit, and well, THIS is what you do with a white rabbit:
See what I mean? What kind of responsible mother not only lets her kids watch Monty Python clips on YouTube, but actually introduces the kids to them? In my defense, JBear has never seen the entire movie. JBug has, but I forgot about the part with the giant naked lady. Whoops! She was a cartoon, though, so I figure she isn't completely scarred for life.
So, as if that isn't bad enough, this evening J and JBear are playing Wii, and I am checking email. My two girls "knock" on the wall, and proceed to do this:
*knock knock* Who's there? Flowers. Flowers for whom? Mrs. Cmmmphmph Who? Candygram!
Finally, at bedtime, my son is supposed to be getting ready for bed, when I hear him making laser noises, pretending to shoot something. Keep in mind, I don't allow him to play with guns or pretend to do so. I find him, with a loaded cat, playing Laser Cats. (ignore the first 35 seconds, you aren't being Rickrolled, only clip I could find on YouTube)
And how does he know of this, you ask? That's right, I showed him the clip from Saturday Night Live. Is it wrong to get supreme joy out of corrupting my children? They will never get married, right? That's what you are saying? But oh, Internet, I have an argument for that (and no I wouldn't like to buy an argument, I will give it to you for free). I am married. And my husband is as big a (or bigger) geek than I am. So there might be hope for them, yet.
Besides, maybe I can give credit for SNL for school. We'll call it... Comedy Appreciation. Yes, that just might work.
And Monty Python? Well, that's obvious. That will go under Life Skills. After all, it is important to know where to find a decent shubbery. (and I didn't introduce them to RPGs. I have some limits!
T, who takes Full Responsibility for their future lack of social life
Labels: family, funny stuff, Holy Grail, Laser Cats, Monty Python, SNL
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 12:11 AM
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No, I didn't want to open her banana. It was a banana. She's six. She can handle it.
There are days when I ask myself, "Self, how are you going to continue? How are you going to handle this chaos for even one more minute?" Today was one of those days. I love my children, I mean, don't we all love our children, for the most part? But having three children means they all play Tag Team Mama, which means they all need or want something... right now. I think there is an unwritten law that states:
"The need for mama's attention is directly proportional to how many demands she is dealing with, right that minute.
The amount of free time mama has is inversely proportional to how bored one is.
(I think this is the Prodigal Principle. All kids seem to know it. I am not sure if they are born knowing it, or if they pass it along in the secret societies formed on playgrounds, swim parties and play dates).
AND one must make sure that mama knows of this state, loudly and with inflection, many times a day. This also must be peppered with inane requests that will probably be rejected.
One of these days, I will have to chronicle every request so that I can fully express my consternation. I can sit and do nothing, and no one wants me. Why is it they all must have my help/attention/involvement all at the same time? I feel like a banana, being peeled! I will try to recreate just a smidgen.
I have made no secret of the fact that my son has High-Functioning Autism/Asperger's. This makes him just a leetle more persistent and demanding than other boys his age. He makes requests, over and over again, until I think I will either run into traffic in a crazy fit or die because my brain explodes, forcing blood from my ears and all over my freshly vacuumed pride-and-joy wood floors. Today, he was hung up on:
watch tv please? Bear Grylls is on. Mythbusters is on. I just want to watch tv...WHY can't I watch tv?
can I have soy pudding? Ugh! Why nooooot? I'm hungry, dammit. Why do I have to go to my room? I'm SORRY. (apology accepted)
Finally, I insist he go outside (though it was very warm today, so I waited until late in the evening to suggest it) It lasted about 5 minutes. And after that he left me alone for about 20 minutes. Then, he started all over. Stellar day.
The girls aren't as difficult, but they both compete for my attention. If I am talking to my eldest, JBug, JBean will most assuredly interrupt. Remember Parenting by Sondheim? I am constantly reminding them they are stepping on one another's words. It is as though there is a game that I know nothing about. Sibling Survivor: the thought processes behind Survival of the Fittest.
Contestant 1: ((Whoever spends the most time with momma wins! Make sure to distract her when she is talking to a competitor.)) Yes, I neeeeed you to open my banana. I don't care if you are helping the other contestant with her Algebra. Ha! I get points! She stopped what she was doing and turned to talk to me!
Contestant 2: Wait, I had the attention first, with my Algebra, we need to continue, you can open your own banana! Score! She walked away.
Contestant 1: I need these Barbie clothes to be put on right now. I can't do it! It's too haaaaaard!
Contestant 2: Hey! You're interrupting! I don't bug when you are needing help, you can have a turn in a minute!
Contestant 1: oh oh time to up the ante! Drop to the floor now... ok, whine. Good, you have the Momma's attention now. Remember, negative attention counts in this game, doesn't matter.
Contestant 3: Oh, now is the time to strike! Take in the sight, sisters arguing, mother feeling harangued, littlest sister on floor gearing up for a tantrum...
Contestant 3: Can I sell pet rocks?
WHAT? Mother turns to the #3 and says, " Now is not a good time, we can talk in a minute."
Contestant 3: (pretending? not to hear) Can I sell pet rocks? Repeat. again.and. again. and again. and...
Mother turns, wild-eyed, I don't care, please just stop talking and leave me alone for five minutes and let me finish this I have to get you sister calmed down No, I cannot help you with your Algebra, I have to calm your sister first. !
Score : Sibiling Team: 1 Momma: 0
Time for a drink. A nice Venti Starbucks Mint Mocha Chip Frap. I am a simple woman. I just don't like bananas.
T, who does like oranges,peaches,plums,apples,and nectarines
Labels: autism, family, motherhood, siblings
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 12:42 AM
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My son loves Indiana Jones, and has for years. In fact you could say it is an obsession. In autism-speak, it is called "perserveration"..meaning he hyper-focuses on a subject and doesn't let go. He has had a fedora like Indy's for years. He has a costume that he wears,and I smile indulgently. He is very excited that the new movie is being released. It has breathed new life into his Indy preoccupation. This sight is what I happened upon this morning. Apparently, he conned his big sister into tying his hands so that he could escape, via The Indiana Jones Handbook.
As you can see, he managed to escape. I don't think I could do this. Next time, I guess we'll hog tie him. Maybe a career in escape-magic will pay for college!
T, who swears I live in a sit-com sometimes
Labels: autism, boys, family, fun stuff, Indiana Jones, Indy
Click for the rest... you know you wannaposted by TLC | 1:30 AM
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