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.

I Have a Warm Spot For Zombies: They Have Their Own Category On My Blog

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains."

So begins the newest book I have to have.

Every once in a while a book comes along that you have to read, at first glance,just for the title. I am a fan of Christopher Moore.(You Suck, a Love Story) I love Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.(Good Omens) Douglas Adams is wonderful.(So Long And Thanks For All the Fish). Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is one of my absolute favorite books (think: a cross between Jane Austen and Harry Potter). I like my fiction silly, intelligent, insightful and tongue-in-cheek. So when my daughter told me about this book, I laughed out loud.

I am a fan of Jane Austen and her writing style. Pride, Prejudice and Zombies melds Jane Austen and Shaun of the Dead into a piece of literature featuring class snobbery and... zombie attacks. They had me at zombies.

No matter how good or bad this book may be...the concept is Pure Genius Man, I wish I'd thought of it.

T, who is sure they are already fighting over the movie rights

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Don't Bug Me About The Oatmeal: Extra Protein Edition

"It has WHAT?" I recoiled in horror. My son had just said the Irish steel-cut oats that my daughter made for breakfast, the ones we all love, made in honor of St. Patrick's Day- had bugs in it. "You're crazy, kiddo, I checked it myself." "No, mama they're really small, you can barely see them." I told him to bring me the container, and I put it close to my eye, squinting carefully. Sure enough, tiny little crawly bugs, almost invisible to the eye were crawling around inside the container. On the oats. That she had just cooked. I felt my bile rise. Apparently we added a little extra protein to our breakfast this morning. That's when my littlest daughter started screaming. I understood, but this was over the top. You have to love autism.

You need to understand, JBean at seven, is pretty much bug-phobic. She doesn't like any of them, no matter how cute or interesting they might be. As you can imagine, this makes going outside a challenge. She just found out that the oatmeal she had eaten, and my leftovers that she had scarfed had contained hideous bugs the thing she hates most in life. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

Meanwhile, my eldest daughter, who had cooked the oats, was ashen. She had tears running down her face, and her mouth was frozen into a mask of horror. Surely, this could not be happening.

And my son, JBear, the fruit of my loins, the one who has no idea when to stop talking, continued to tell us all how we had eaten bugs, and they were there, in the container, and could you believe it? Trying to shut him up and deal with the now-death-grip on my arm from my youngest and console my oldest who of course, was blaming herself, because you know if anything goes wrong when she is doing something it is automatically her fault. Just ask her. And I was trying to control my roiling stomach. Amidst the screams of them all. Why is it when all hell breaks loose, I feel the insane urge to laugh? I guess I see the comedy in the situation...

My youngest decided then she needed to go to the bathroom. But, since she was absolutely freaked out about the possibility of bugs, she decided she wasn't going into the bathroom, because what if there were bugs in there? She declared she was just going to wet her pants, she didn't care. (niiiice, don't you want MY life? Sometimes, neither do I).

JBear, who was trying to help said, "If you pee your pants it will attract bugs!" Alrighty, then. Thanks for that kid. The screaming intensified:

"I have to go to the bathroom! No, I am going to pee my pants! I won't go! Ah, I will bring bugs if I peeeeee..." Completely out of control. I cupped her face with my hands, something she doesn't like, but that brings her back into focus and told her to listen to the sound of my voice. She needed to calm down. "We are going to do birthday candles to help you calm down, now." I told her. And I lead her through some deep breathing to slow her heart and her fears. It worked, and she did go to the bathroom. But then she was worried that maybe she peed just a little in her undies, and that it would attract bugs! I explained that doesn't happen, she was fine, and she could just go change her underwear if she was worried. So she did. With some cajoling and I walked her through it.

No sooner did she get done, my son started again about the bugs in the oatmeal. He hadn't eaten any of it (he is gluten-free) and so lacking empathy with autism, was fascinated by our predicament. He just wouldn't stop talking! How festive! Once I got him quiet, I convinced the girls that the bugs got in after we opened the container and we didn't eat anything except oats. Turned out when my son said, "bug" my littlest daughter heard, "Bug" and here that's code for the C Word, because I am terrified of them. (other bugs are fine, but the big black/brown ones send me to the moon. I suppose in a way it is funny. Unless you are me.) So the kids know not to say that word, that rhymes with the second word in "stagecoach." That kind of bug is what my JBean thought was in the can of oats...no wonder she freaked out at the possibility of eating it! Ugh. I explained that the bugs we were talking about were too small to see, and that they are called weevils. (not that it helped me, but she started to calm down.)

So of course, I had to tweet our gross discovery, because well, duh. And someone tweeted back not to share the recipe with her for something, in spanish. I didn't recognize the word. I clicked the link, not really thinking. LIttle daughter was sitting right there, next to the computer. The link was a picture of a frying pan full of grasshoppers. Nice crunchy ones, with garlic and chiles. And yes, it looked like a pan full of bugs. Crap. I blew that one. The hysterics started again. It took a half-hour to calm her down, but I finally distracted her with a book. (later my twitter friend apologized, but it really was not her fault, at all. Also, I found it interesting that in Mexico they eat grasshoppers. Don't the legs get stuck in your teeth??) Yes, I know in many countries they eat insects, but culturally, I can't get past my bias...

Anyway...it made such great blog fodder, so I owe her.

Once everyone is settled down, we spoke no more of it. But I would imagine it will be a long time before any of us eat oatmeal again. And you better believe I will be using a magnifying glass to check grains from now on!

T, who is feeling sick just writing this

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The Best Thing You Can Make Me Is Reservations

My son is obsessed with Bear Grylls. (ok, well, what isn't he obsessed with, truthfully?) He has seen almost every episode. I cannot get into this particular show. Despite the fact he looks passable without a shirt, I just can't do it. It's a survival guide for couch potatoes. 99% of the people who watch it will never be faced with even one iota of the situations presented on the show. Do you know it?

From the website:

In each episode of Man vs. Wild Bear strands himself in popular wilderness destinations where tourists often find themselves lost or in danger. As he finds his way back to civilization, he demonstrates local survival techniques, including escaping quicksand in the Moab Desert, navigating dangerous jungle rivers in Costa Rica, crossing ravines in the Alps and surviving sharks off Hawaii.

And I suppose all of that is true. But what they don't tell you? You watch him eating really gross stuff and then peeing on himself. I am not kidding! Today in the car, my children were relaying the synopsis of the last episode. Apparently, he was "stranded" in the deep south, and to eat, he caught a water snake, ripped its head off (being careful to squeeze the putrid fish out of it so, he didn't get sick) and then ate the snake carass. Mmm, gimme summa dat!.

In another segment, he went fishing for catfish using himself as bait. Seriously! He couldn't find a stick?? He stuck his hand in the water, the fish gnawed on it, bit and he had lunch. He also had a gnarly mangled hand. It had teeth marks and everything. And well, since antibiotics don't grow in the wild, he used the natural solution. He peed on himself! It seems the ammonia is good for the wound. Yeah, I know! He seems to do that a lot. Maybe it's a compulsion.

I am telling you, my hand would fall off before I would pee on it. I just can't imagine. If someone saw you do that, wouldn't they think you were some kind of pervert? And we sit on the couch and watch this...why? Now, I know, urine is supposed to be sterile...but eeeew? It is one thing to pee in the shower Oh what? Like you haven't done it? Eh, it's ok, I don't expect you to admit it... but it is quite another to pee on yourself, on purpose! That?

It's just gross. Especially because he has an entire camera crew there with him, how hard would it be for someone to run to Walgreens for Neosporin? Or even just carry a piece of moldy bread? He could eat it when no one was looking...penicillin is good for you! I am pretty sure I would eat a piece of moldy bread before I would pee on myself. Then again, I wouldn't be caught dead doing either!

My idea of roughing it? I like room service. In a 4 Star Hotel. With a little chocolate on the pillow, please. In a pickle, I will use a porta potty. But it isn't something I want to do often. I went to Spirit West Coast last month. Let me tell you, it was rustic! We camped in tents, ate over a propane stove and peed in a large plastic box. Once a day, a truck came and emptied the box, but honestly? It still wasn't any place you wanted to spend time in. And we had three meals a day, not one was a snake. And though we had to fight bees who wanted to eat with us, none of them wanted to actually eat us. We stood in a line to take a shower, which was a big trailer with metal stalls. Still the water was hot, so I didn't complain much.

And I swear I didn't pee in there, either.

T, who likes indoor plumbing

How about you? What's the most bizarre thing you have done in the name of survival? What would you do? (and are you surprised I didn't ask you about your shower habits?)

Technorati: bizarre, Bear_Grylls, humor

We're Going to Name Him Fluffy

I admit, with summer I get a little lackadaisical. The heat, the fact that it stays light longer outside... so it makes sense that I have been a bit busy, and not really cooking a lot. So many other activities demand my attention. Which brings me to.:

We have a new member of our family. He is white and poofy. He seems nice enough. A bit quiet.

In all my years, I have never seen one quite like this one. Such body! So much fur! Still, he isn't much trouble. See for yourself.

T, who will clean out the fridge tomorrow

Technorati: home, family, humor

The Agony of The Feet

When you are a mother of three kids, you can't keep up with everything. Some things fall by the wayside. I mean, sure, you make sure the kids eat meals (if they can find food that is worth eating since you are too busy blogging to go to the store) And for the most part, you make sure if you are going out in public that the kids are wearing (mostly) clean clothes free of large rends or tears. Of course, you must fight your son in this department, who has glommed onto one particular pair of pants and eschews everything else, because they are "comfy." Did I mention he will only wear tan pants, like Indy Jones? And even if it is 99 degrees out (like today!) the kid won't wear shorts? Seriously. But I digress... What else is new, you ask...I can't seem to stay on topic for anything. See why I need an editor? ahem..

My point, if I had one, would be...I am only one woman. I can't do it all. If all kids are reasonably clean and clothes are free of visible dirt and don't smell like old bacon, I consider that a win. Once in a while, we forget to brush hair, but that's pretty minor. Who has time to stand still and have your hair brushed when you are JBean...and busy taking every toy you own to the car? I mean, JBean has to have the My Little Pony purse filled with My Little Pony toys and their My Little Pony houses and beg mama to carry them, even though she said she wouldn't and that they would be too heavy for a little girl to carry and mama IS NOT carrying, I mean it... and Mama ends up carrying anyway. This happens a couple of times a week. The child cannot go anywhere without toys. (this is not a post sponsored by My Little Pony, and after you read it you will understand they wouldn't want to be near it) But in the scheme of things, these are small annoyances.

My son does not have time for things like baths, and honestly, unless we are going somewhere, I guess I don't have time to fight him on it. I fight him on enough things Much too soon, he will hit that big-footed, shaggy-haired phase and will stink all the time. Then, we will make baths (or showers) an issue. For now, if I see visible dirt, into the tub he goes. Which brings me to today.

My son has a new(?) obsession: The Indiana Jones game for the Wii game system. And while I need to review it, because there are some fun surprises hidden in said game, that is not tonight's subject. Tonight is concerned with feet. Namely, my son's feet. Understand that yesterday he was outside, barefoot. But I didn't think about it at the time. Lazy days, summer, easy going, you understand. And really, if the body parts aren't showing, they don't count. He puts socks on, I don't see the feet, he's home free. Until today. He was sitting on the couch playing the video game again after he was done with his school...what kind of mother do you think I am and I was sitting on the other end of the couch, reading email. I glanced down and saw these things... and in the interest of proving I have no pride...

THIS is a picture of my son's feet (he asked, "Are you gonna blog my feet?? I'm gonna be famous!") Sure, son, just what you want everyone to remember you for... you know this is going to come back and bite you in the butt. But really, isn't the story of how you mooned the entire line at McDonalds going to do more damage? Ok, fine, guess feet are no big deal. So, to keep my son happy, here is a picture of his disgusting, nasty feet. any pervs who strolled in based upon a "dirty feet" search can just keep right on strollin' out the door, thanks...this blog is protected by Anti-Perv snakes. What? You don't see them? They're invisible. They see you. Best be off, now...

with apologies to Bill Cosby, but I have little original material, I am too busy policing my son's feet!

T, who understands if you never want to speak to her again

Technorati: family_life, parenting,