Talking Sex with your Son who has Autism...and not wanting to jump off a bridge afterwards. Mostly.

I had “The Talk” with my son. We both survived, barely. He is twelve now, and I know what you’re thinking: WHY are you just now having this discussion with him? Do you live under a rock? Don’t you know what kids are capable of getting into these days? Do you want your kid to be a statistic?

Believe me, I get it. But you have to understand…I have tried to have The Talk with my son before this, many times. Each time, he politely rebuffed me.

My son has High-Functioning Autism. It is as the name implies. Some professionals call it Asperger’s Syndrome. It means he has trouble with social cues, reading body language, some processing problems as well as trouble controlling his impulses, like anger. He is easily embarrased, so it didn’t surprise me that he did not want to discuss his burgeoning sexuality with his mother. This is the kid who hides his eyes if I take him with me to mall and we happen to pass the lingerie store. There have been no shortage of attempts on my part to usher him into the ways of the world. He always swore he was not interested.

So when I found that he had been googling, “penis” and “breasts” I figured, protest though he may, it was time. I am a smart woman. I have safe search on, so he didn’t find anything except Wikipedia pages…no trauma. I get that kids, boys in particular, can be curious. I am just thankful that no damage was done! And I am also grateful that I have enough technical savvy to know how to lock down the computers!

So, how do you talk with your son about something you both find highly embarrassing without losing your mind? The answer, it seems, is just do it. Do not make a big deal about it.

Five Ways to Discuss The Subject Without Wanting to Run and Hide

1. Be as matter-of-fact as you can. Lay out the information without a lot of emotion, as though you were tutoring someone who speaks a different language. We are talking autism here. That is, after all, what you are doing.

2. Refrain from idioms, editorializing, and heavy opinion. All of these will be ignored by a kid with autism. He probably won’t get most of them, anyway. It is easy to get “on a roll” and end up losing the kid halfway through the process.

3. Don’t bother asking, “Do you understand?” He probably won’t admit it either way. Just lay out the information as best you can. If you are good at reading your child, you can elaborate if need be.

4. This is a good time to explain society’s views on women, respect, pornography…just try to do it without making the kid feel belittled. Did I like that my son googled body parts? NO. Did I tell him I don’t want him to do it anymore? YES. Did I make him feel like a bad person? Absolutely not. Kids need guidance, and that’s what I gave him.

5. Refrain from what I call “Aesoping” even though it is very satisfying as a parent. This is basically when you say, “I told you so!” Kids learn from their experiences. You can certainly point out the learning, but don’t rub their nose in it. That only serves to make you feel bigger than he is. One-upping a child doesn’t make us better, it makes us bullies. And with a kid with autism, it makes him shut down.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no Pollyanna. It’s not all roses and sunshine around here. I was floored when I found out my son had been …exploring google. It wasn’t easy. But instead of making it about me, and my parenting, and what I am doing right or wrong, I made it about my son. Having a child going through puberty is difficult. I can only hope I have set the groundwork for my son, and that if he does have questions later he can ask instead of looking in all the wrong places for answers.

All in all, it was a painless process for us both. But I have to admit: I am very glad that I only have one son! Somehow, talking to the girls is just so much easier.

A Morning with my Eldest

Teenagers R Hard.
T.
cartoon: xkcd

It's up to us: what will we do about bullying?

Today's post was written by my 16 year old daughter. Please read it, I think she has something important to say. xoxo T.

Tyler Clementi.

Asher Brown.

Seth Walsh.

Justin Aaberg.

Raymond Chase.

William (Billy) Lucas.

You might not have heard these names. These are all boys who committed suicide in the last few months after being bullied due to their sexual orientation. Who knows what they felt? Alone, ostracized? Like life wasn't worth living. Like they didn't matter? Their acts of desperation could have gone unnoticed. Thing is, we saw. The internet saw. First one, then another, then hundreds, then thousands of people took a stand. In their own way, everyone said that these boys…and so many like them…matter.

Then, the internet spoke. (Well, it didn't really. It's inanimate. Go with me here, I'm making a point.)

It started with an idea.

Social media spread the idea to quite literally thousands of people.

The idea was simple: wear purple (the color of spirit on the LGBTQ flag) on October 20, 2010 in memory of those boys, and for all the other kids out there who may feel the same way.

So today, I wore purple. To my surprise, there were other kids in my (conservative Christian) class who wore purple. Not to mention the thousands of people all around the world. Teachers, parents, talk show hosts. We took a stand against bullying, against the idea that what happened to these boys was okay.

Bullying is common now. Before, insults were thrown in front of a class, maybe twenty people. Now, cyber bullying is the norm. Hateful anonymous comments, bringing down the person in front of everyone on the internet...whole schools. But kids will be kids, right? They need to suck it up. Learn to ignore it. A common answer to the problem, and not a solution.

But you know what?

I think it's going to be my generation that changes it. We know social media. Some of us communicate mostly through email, facebook and texting. We get how to make a difference. And we do. My generation will be the one that steps up and says it isn't okay.

It isn't okay to make fun of someone. To discriminate based on age, or race, or sexual orientation or disability or intelligence or anything else.

It isn't okay to have an Us vs. Them mentality.

It isn't okay to talk about how loving God is and then hate anyone who is different.

It isn't okay.

And when that happens, when we step up…it will change.

In 1983, D.A.R.E (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) was founded. It has changed lives. Imagine what it could be like if there was a similar approach to bullying. In one generation, D.A.R.E made drugs uncool. Nearly every school age kid knows what the red ribbon means. If something similar could be accomplished for bullying...imagine what could happen.

Hate is learned and we need to lead by example. The things we learn in kindergarten can affect the rest of our lives. If we start from the bottom and work up, we can change hearts. If we could show from the beginning that bullying isn't okay...just imagine it.

If we change the mindset behind bullying, imagine how drastically different our world might be.

It's going to start with us.

Now, don't just imagine it. Let's make it a reality.

My Top 20 reasons for homeschooling ( because there were way more than 10)

Since school just started for us I thought it would be fun to list some reasons why I homeschool.(contrary to popular thought, it wasn't just because I could stay home all day and drink martinis while not waiting in the public school carpool line). Necessity lead me to homeschooling, it's true. When you have a child with high-functioning autism, he can fall through the cracks. My son was not a good fit for the existing special education classes but couldn't function in mainstreaming, even with a full-time aide. So I decided to bring him home that first year. He was already behind in Math and Reading and was in the first grade. I figured I could do as well as the school did, and better if we were lucky. It worked so well the next year I brought my oldest daughter home to study. And at that point, I knew I would homeschool my littlest one as well.

So necessity began my homeschool career, but that's not what kept me going. "Why do you homeschool" I am asked. Here are some of my reasons.

1. You can sleep in if you stay up too late the night before. (just don't do it too often!)

2. Creative Teaching! If at first you don't get it, there's always another way.

3. Kids can run around when they need to

4. Don't have to ask permission to go to the bathroom

5. Nature Walks!

6. Long, meandering side trips into History

7. P.E. is playing outside (no calisthenics, which my daughter hates)

8. No Detention

9. Your teacher loves you, always

10.Field Trips pretty much whenever we want

11.Don't like the book? Find another one!

12. School in the middle of Mommy's bed (or under a tree outside, or on the couch)

13. Pajama Days!

14. Lunch is edible.

15. Chewing gum helps with concentration, and it's not against the rules!

16. Intelligent discussions!

17. Kids who WANT to study what they are studying.

18. No bullying

19. Little to no peer pressure

20. More time for the things that really count like art and music.

T, who figured why let schooling interfere with their education

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I Will NOT Accept That She's a Decade and a Half, that's a Damn Lie... Statistic

I looked at her, she looked at me. We eyed one another warily. I was completely new to this gig, she was fresh from the oven. I held her legs aloft, determined to pull this off. I was woman, surely I could accomplish this task; it wasn't too daunting for me. I grasped the edges and pulled. The side came loose with a loud ripping sound and I trembled. One more to go. I pulled firmly on the tapes, with newfound confidence. I had this! I pulled the diaper out from under her bottom,the cool Spring air hit her parts and she let out a wail. More like a car alarm Four alarm fire air raid siren. I promptly burst into tears, knees knocking and... peed myself. No, really, I did. I bet she doesn't even know that. well, now she does.

I was a new mama, straight out of the hospital, with a baby that I couldn't give back. She hadn't cried much in the hospital, I wasn't used to it, and the sound of her distress really set me on edge. Fatigued muscles that were never meant for passing a grapefruit had just had enough. Thankfully, I was wearing a huge postpartum pad, the kind they give you on the mother/baby floor attached to those sexy net underwear you know the ones, a cousin to support hose and the size of grandma's shower cap and that could probably absorb a small lake. (good thing!)

And that was my introduction, fifteen years ago, today, to motherhood. It got better.(spoken in my best Monty Python accent, of course)

Happy Birthday, baby girl. I am so very proud of you in so very many ways. and if I enumerate them here now you will be even more embarrassed, so I should probably quit while I'm ahead.(and not tell the story of how you projectile-pooped all over the nursery door in front of Daddy's coworkers at the very next diaper change...)

T, who is NOT old

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The Way I See It, You Have Two Choices...

Tonight I was reading one of my favorite blogs (you can find it in my blogroll down right), Attack of the Redneck Mommy. Her post was lamenting the fact that people can be so rude when it comes to how they handle kids with special needs. Her frustration is that her son comes across as different and people don't know how to act around him. They say insensitive things. They gawk, and they generally make asses of themselves. It can be hard to explain to her older children. Especially when people are trying to be funny. I couldn't shake her post, and it started my wheels turning.

My oldest daughter is 14. One of the favorite expressions among her peers is "That's so retarded!" She has tried to explain to them why it's not acceptable, but it falls on deaf ears. Her friends don't see anything wrong with it. When I hear it, I also say something. I die a little every time I hear it. The first time my son used it, I almost had a stroke. It's not okay. The definition of retarded is an a IQ of less than 70. My children are not retarded. My kids have at least an average, possibly higher than average IQ. But my kids have autism. And I understand the lurch of a mother's heart when she opens her email to find pictures that are masquerading as humor staring at her, poised to wound her.

It's the heart I had when I saw Napoleon Dynamite. (I include a clip in case you live under a rock and never saw this awful movie). I have no idea if the title character was supposed to have had autism. I just know I squirmed uncomfortably while watching. I didn't see the humor in watching those poor socially-inept boys as we were supposed to laugh at them. It felt way too close to home. My mother's heart was breaking, and I wanted to kick somebody's butt, hard. I understand empathy while watching movies that deal with teen situations. Sure, we were all awkward at times back then, some more than others. Even the cheerleaders had bad hair days. But I drew the line at watching a film that made fun of kids who seemed oblivious to their social standing and how badly they stuck out. What could possibly make this funny? Watching how clueless they were? Glad it wasn't you? It felt cruel to sit and laugh at their behavior. Why?

Because you just can't tell by looking at someone what their normal is.

When I take my kids out, they look normal. No, really, they do. They are pretty cute, two wear braces, one is too young, but, sadly, due to her lousy gene pool and my recessed jawline (autism AND braces?) she will eventually need them, too.

Remember, I live in the land of the Beautiful People and have, upon more than one occasion, had a talent scout walk up to my family on the way through Nordstrom and invite us to an agent meeting. I am always told how adorable and well-mannered they are... and have I ever considered getting them into acting? And I think "Yeah, sure, they are well-mannered now, but wait until the 7 year old wants a drink of water, or the lights are too bright or she is just ready to go HOME. Wait until the 10 year old gets fixated on the latest whatjamacallit that he absolutely HAS to have, and can he borrow $10 (which I never loan him, but hope springs eternal.) Just wait until my 14 yr old is trying to find shoes and can't find one single, solitary pair that looks or feels right in the entire three-story mall. Wait for the meltdowns. They are coming." Or not...

Because they look just like every other fresh-scrubbed talent hopeful, the reactions when my children fall apart are always the same: surprise. Embarrassed glances, a titter here or there. Because, when the dam breaks, our cup runneth over. And the judgment is always the same, I can see it in their eyes. (And no, I am not particularly sensitive to it, but I do a bit of mind-reading, so I can tell) It MUST be the parenting!" That's right, if I would only discipline my brood, that would stop it. I can almost hear the thoughts in my head:

I mean really! How can she possibly let him go on and on about that video game? Asking over and over again? Doesn't she enforce limits? Doesn't no, mean no? It is her fault he is like that, what an absolutely disagreeable little boy, haranguing his mama like that!

What is WRONG with that little girl, she won't stop whining! She looks old enough to be patient, what is that mother teaching? And it's shameful the way that father is carrying her, rather than making her walk on her own instead of collapsing in a heap on the floor! Why, in my day...

It all comes from giving children too much power and too many choices!

(Someone actually did say that to me!)

Understand, we are often on the way out when this kind of thing starts, but it's still the same thing. Why can't you control your child?

I suppose at that point, I have a choice. I can explain to the kind strangers who really just want the best for my children that there is autism present in our family, and thank you very much for your understanding and consideration, I am dealing with it. Then I can also explain, when faced with their blank looks, that there are different levels of autism and no my children don't check out mentally or stack blocks in the shape of the Eiffel Tower, they just respond to situations with less control than most kids sometimes.

I could say that.

Or I could mentally tell them to piss off and walk away with as much pride and aplomb as I can muster.

Guess which I do more often?

T, who is tired of explaining and just not going to do it anymore

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