In which we find out exactly how parenting a teenager is like driving over the side of a bridge.
Go easy on me...I am brand new to this thang.
Sweet Bits Vlog : Building a Bridge from sendchocolate on Vimeo.
.How about you? What do liken parenting to in your own experience?
T, who isn't gonna do it anymore
I wrote this a couple of days ago, but couldn't publish until now. I wanted to post it, so I am going ahead and doing so.
I'm sitting here in my no-tell motel,a stone"s throw from califmom's house. she offered me the couch, but I didn't want to impose. Being that tonight is the night before her husband's funeral, it didn't seem right to stay. I flew up this afternoon, and spent the evening with her and some of our Blogher/twitter people. We laughed and ate and drank...almost forgetting what brought us together. Almost, but not quite.
I hate the fact that tomorrow we will be sitting in a church saying goodbye to her husband. Afterwards,we will drink. Sadly, I will board a plane for L.A. on Tuesday. I can't be here...I have my own obligations at home.
The good news is she has really good support here in real life. I just wish it could be me.Still, she has angels, one of whom is, @mcqueenie23 who is organizing a meal fund, so if you want to donate, either message her on twitter, or hit her blog. All of you who read this...you are awesome, you know this, right?
UPDATE: Califmom posted her post about the funeral, you might want to read it.T, who hopes you can help
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_u-RqZPapbG5cDdJlnNIzOMtPYv2CYu0S_YjaICmKeZuu9WOn5vhxUT0R70OxOvsUBFjXRVl2Pf56fkwnnjGBM9A9bYCwc24VMJv737wjBkU3RiRO2fOee1ToLGEarc1y2udPi2qSNoc25d_Mz_KlTa=s0-d)
SO MANY have asked how to help Leah and Bob, and this is the first thing we can do:
We can give. I know, I know..the economy. But. Every little bit helps. Can you find any amount? Not going to insult your intelligence to tell you to give up your Starbucks or any other thing. You know what you can afford. Do what you can.
Childhood friends of Leah's aka califmom, have started a fund to help the family with the expenses that come with Bob's illness. Insurance doesn't cover it all, and added expense of eating food out, keeping kids occupied... well it all adds up. So. Here is what we can do (posted from Michelle's facebook account):
Bank of America, Nevada
Account Name: Norling Family
Account #: 501008379041
If you're making a deposit in person, you must have the account number. BofA can not look it up for you, even if you have the account name.
If you would like to handle your donation by mail, please make your check payable to the Norling Family. Remember to write the account number in the memo portion and mail it to:
Michelle WolfkielShe plans to make deposits on Fridays and balance updates will be available on Michelle's facebook account.
From Michelle:
Not going to worry about thank you's right now, but we will make every effort to keep track of everyone's name. Thank you all in advance for your love, prayers, and generous support of Leah, Bob, and their children.Please feel free to repost this information wherever you think it might do the most good. You should also know this is a non-interest bearing, free checking account and EVERY penny will be available to Leah's family when they need it.As we celebrate Christ's ultimate sacrifice this Easter weekend, I ask you all to please give until it hurts.
T, who knows you want to help
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tlZwyWDtfAIir7bQy6lrnaWP5mWb8ndEAsHpmuC9G6V_BV9IiCgThSDP4UZyK7zuBkccnlduJeUX7quYPjjHqpXYfN7QGcMbmK98GTOw55uRb1kVEcxpDW_EUoORjedZA4lSSnl7OMFs7ARbnqivR_=s0-d)
My suitcase is heavy. It sits, crouched in my room, next to the closet. I haven't had the nerve to unpack it yet. It looms, pregnant with unrealized dreams, frustrations and what could have been. I try to ignore it. I don't do a very good job. Every time I walk into the room, there it is.
Sixteen days. Seems like a lifetime ago. That's when I kissed plump cheeks goodbye, squeezed sticky hands with admonishments to "be good", and climbed into my father-in-law's car to drive to the airport with my husband. I had high hopes, but didn't really know what to expect. We hadn't been away together for any length of time since the children were born. We were ready.
And it was wonderful. Awesome, even. We drove down the coast of New Zealand, stopping wherever our hearts lead us. We had no agenda, and no qualms about enjoying the company of one another. Memories were made that will last a lifetime. That's the problem.
I had to come home. And I can't see home the same anymore. I have never allowed myself to consider what life would have been like without my children. It is what it is, is my motto, why push it? But for sixteen glorious days, I was not a mother. I was just…me. With him. And it was wonderful. My heart was full. No tethering to others' needs or whims. I was free. It couldn't last, and it didn't.
I had thirteen hours en route to LAX to forget that bliss; to morph back into a mother who puts her children first again. But those shoes aren't fitting very well. I am aware that makes me an awful, selfish person. And it is why my suitcase is heavy. It is a constant reminder of what I had. And unpacking it means I will ferret it away into a closet, forgetting what it was like to live from it for weeks. Unpacking would be putting to rest the adventurer and the free spirit I was two weeks ago. And I am just not ready to do that.
And the guilt? The guilt is palpable. I can taste it on my tongue, metallic and bitter, like I need to brush my teeth. I want to be that mother again, but I don't know how. I almost wish I had never gone, because now? Now I am back. And I know what I am missing, every minute, of every day.
My suitcase is heavy, but not as heavy as my heart.
T, who hopes I will get over this
It's not just family that misses deployed soldiers.
In honor of the veterans who have served and are serving... Here are some reunions that may be just as important:
T, who says maybe I want a dog
How to insult your brother like a 7 yr old...
First, fold your arms and get all superior-like. Then, stick out your lip and glare. Finally, choose one, to complete:
You smell like...
dirty apricots
moldy cheese
rotten eggs
dirty underwear
Move in for the kill:
You smell like...
rotten dirty apricots, cheese wrapped in pumpkin pie
dirty cheese apricot pie and cheese
(well, the spam, spam, spam, baked beans and spam doesn't 'ave much spam innit..")
I tried to correct her, but I was biting back the laughter so hard, it was difficult to sound sincere.
T, who can't make this stuff UP
(discussing tv)
From the WTH files....
JBear: Is 30 Rock about aliens?
Me: ???? No, it's a show about a comedy show and the people who work there.
JBear: Then why do they hate Jell-O?
What? WHAT? No wonder my brainnnn hurts!
T, who finally figured out he was thinking of 3rd Rock From the Sun
The San Diego Zoo is running a special for the month of October: all kids under 11 are free! So, though San Diego is an hour-and-a-half away, we piled into the van and 
made the drive.
Once there, we visited the Children's Zoo, and the Reptile House. JBean was reluctant , but I walked her through it. She has a snake phobia, but a little bit of graduated desensitization is hopefully having her get over that. I had her walk through with Jordan, sort of on the outskirts, so that she could see from afar, but she didn't have to examine the snakes closely. I made sure she knew I was looking at them, and told her a bit about them. And finally, when there was a lizard, I brought her over to see it. She gained accomplishment, and confidence...I set her up to succeed.
I am convinced that is what parenting is...setting your child up to succeed...bit by bit.
She is at the age where the unknown is very scary, so every enclosure we approached, she had to be reassured that the animal was safe, it couldn't get her, and it was NOT NOT NOT a snake. Once she saw the animal, she relaxed and enjoyed watching it. The animals seemed to enjoy us, too. At every stop, I ended up with some great pictures. Almost like the animals were posing!
Ever the homeschooler, JBug brought a notebook and wrote down questions she wanted answers to so she could Google them once we came home. We still don't know why gorillas eat their own waste, though! No, I am not kidding!
When Mr. Mountain Lion saw the littlest one of our party...
mmmm, LUNCH, he seems to be saying as he sees her
"oh Koala Lou, I DO love you!"
"So, tell the doctor where it hurts..."
This is Calvin. He's 100 years old
The giraffe was THIS close!
The Zoo is constructing a new elephant habitat, to be opened in Spring of 2009..the animals will have more room
More Monkey Butt
T, who really loves the zoo (if it's the right one)
No posts the last couple of days because my family is visiting from Oregon. First time in many years that we have all been together in one place. So my family is playing tourist this week: Disneyland, Universal Studios... guess there are drawbacks to living in Southern California, after all. More soon, I promise.
Don't forget me!
T, who wishes she had more time & energy
click to embiggen
Friday Fun
Today is all about Homeschooling.
This showed up in my email this morning, and inspired me
A Homeschool Family
And this is NOT what it is... (NSFK, just a couple words here and there, but I had to include it anyway)
Q:How Does a Homeschool Mom change a light bulb?
First, mom checks three books on electricity out of the library, then the kids make models of light bulbs, read a biography of Thomas Edison and do a skit based on his life.
Next, everyone studies the history of lighting methods, wrapping up with dipping their own candles.
Next, everyone takes a trip to the store where they compare types of light bulbs as well as prices and figure out how much change they'll get if they buy two bulbs for $1.99 and pay with a five dollar bill.
On the way home, a discussion develops over the history of money and also Abraham Lincoln, as his picture is on the five dollar bill.
Finally, after building a homemade ladder out of branches dragged from the woods, the light bulb is installed.
And there is light.
T, who says sometimes you laugh to keep from crying
Tonight at the grocery store, they were selling those "in Memory Of" cards for pets. Normally, I pass them up, but I was thinking of the three kitties we lost in the fire going on two years ago, now. So I ponied up and bought three of the cards. I had hoped to finish filling them out before the kids came back from the bathroom, but I wasn't fast enough. Of course little JBean saw what I was doing and wanted to know more. I showed her the tags with "In Honor of..." and showed her that Maia, Bon Bon and Beleu all had their own card. That's when her face crumpled, and she started to cry.
I know that crying is healing, and it is part of the process, but dammit, it is hard to watch your baby cry. It is especially hard because much of the time she tends to lock up verbally and does not talk about how she is feeling, so when she is showing emotion, part of me is thrilled and the other part feels like it has had its heart ripped out. She is just so sad, and really, who can blame her? It was a tough thing for me as an adult to swallow. For a child, and one with autism as well? It was almost impossible. How do you explain why three cats had to die in a fire from smoke inhalation? How do you make it ok? Like I said, it is going on two years now. I am not sure it will ever be...ok.
My beloved Beleu, he was my first baby. He came to live with us when he was little bigger than the turntable on my stereo. J used to hold him in his hand. He was there years later to usher in the births and introduction of each baby. And after a long and pampered life, I knew he was not long for this world. It was just a feeling I had. I thought we would lose him to old age, though. He was over thirteen when he passed. The firefighter was very kind. "They just go to sleep, honey. They don't feel any pain." I didn't believe him, not really. But I was grateful for his effort. At the time, I couldn't even process the horror that I was experiencing. We. lost. everything. And yet, the thing that hurt the most was not saying goodbye to my cats. Everything else? It could be replaced...
JBean asks, "Why? Why did God let our kitties die in a fire? WHY?" And? I have no words. Because, I have no answers. The only thing I can do is hold her tightly, let her cry and pray. We always pray. And we rail at God. It's ok, He is big enough to handle it. I have told her it is fine to be mad about it, it stinks. It's not fair. And God? He knows. And he cares, even if it doesn't always feel like it. After all, he did send us our new cats, and we raised them from kittenhood, with baby bottles after their mother abandoned them. They needed us; we needed them. Presented with a need I couldn't ignore, I was able to open my heart to new animals, something I wasn't sure I could do again.
I learned a lot from the fire and the aftermath of the experience. It changed who I am in many ways. I wouldn't want that taken away. But I surely would want to take away the hurt from my children, if I could. Afterwards, we put JBean in therapy. She scared us, because she just shut down. There were daily fits. She would become nonverbal. There was no interaction. There were times she just retreated deep inside herself and in her world of toys. I guess it was safe there. But we knew she had to deal with what happened. Thankfully, she never saw the house on fire. None of us did. We were coming home from a day of gallavanting around after church, so we didn't know what had happened until we pulled around the corner and onto our street. So she is saved that particular etching on her memory.
But she remembers the cats. She remembers how soft the little grey kitten, Maia was. She remembers how Maia would climb onto her bed and suck her fingers. Maia was four months old. She remembers Bon Bon and her fat, fat butt, climbing onto her lap and hanging over the sides. JBean is small, but it was still a funny sight. She remembers Beleu, the "silver cat", sitting on the bed with her, staring at her when she was a baby. She doesn't talk about these memories, but every once in a while, she opens up just a bit, so I know she has a lot of deep feelings that she just doesn't share. But today? She talked about the cats. She talked about how sad she was and how mad she was. And she cried. And I cried too, but not for the same reasons. Sure, I miss the cats. But I missed my daughter more. And if in this instance, the memory of her pets brings her back to me, if it helps her open up and let me see the private pain that autism locked away, then treasures have come out of darkness. And I find that pure gold.
T, who doesn't have the answers, not this time
Have you heard the awful rumors? No? Good. Because hear me now, I am absolutely too young to have a high school student. Do you hear me? is this thing on?? Sigh. I cannot be old. I wear cool shoes! I listen to hip music. I wear semi-fashionable clothes. well I don't have a link, you'll have to take my word for it I have bitchen hair. I cannot be old, ok? I am a youth leader for the jr high (soon to be high schoolers) at church. They like me. I like loud music and cookies. I am not old. Repeat it with me.
Tonight was our promotion celebration for our homeschool. There are 41 families in our group. JBug was the only 8th grade graduate. There were two Seniors graduating from high school, though. Not even going to think about that. We all went on stage as a family and JBear along with JBean received their promotion certificates. Then JBug came on stage and was given her certificate of graduation. She is an excellent student, and studies Logic (second year), Latin (second year) Algebra, Ancient History, Greek literature (we are of the Classical bent, more or less) Life Science and Intermediate Band: she plays the clarinet. In her spare time, she is teaching herself the piano. She is very self-motivated and I rarely have to remind her to get on task. I was asked to say a few words, and this is what I said:
JBug, wow, we are in a completely different place in our lives this year, huh? In the last two years since you have been homeschooling, your father and I have watched you blossom from a tentative child to a self-confident young woman. While it doesn't seem to be your nature to jump into an activity with both feet (you will never be an early adopter), you are trying things more easily than you have in the past, and sticking with them. You are no longer stuck in the Perfection trap...you are realizing it is enough sometimes just to do something because you enjoy it. And even if you don't. I have watched you step up and do what needs to be done. You are an invaluable help around our house, and you are usually uncomplaining.
I have watched your relationship with the Lord grow as you discover who He is to you, personally. I have watched you step up in ministry as you find the areas where you are gifted. You have a reputation for service, whatever needs to be done. And for wisdom. We all learn from you.
I have watched you grow in your friendships. Our joke is that you didn't find your peer group until you started homeschooling...so much for no socialization with homeschoolers, right?
And most importantly, I have watched our relationship grow. You talk to me, and I talk to you. I love that aspect most of all. It has been my privilege to watch you grow, and I am absolutely thrilled that I get to share so closely in your journey to womanhood.
Congratulations, JBug. You are absolutely ready for high school.
)
*On Tuesday, I will honor my younger kids, I really am not ignoring them. But this is JBug's moment
T, who absolutely is not not not old (and is very proud of her daughter)
Today I went to lunch with a friend who has a son with autism. There we were, her with her son, and me with my two, plus the teenager. B is a great friend, and we have fun together. We like many of the same things. So there we were, discussing Monty Python and laughing:
"Well, the spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans and spam doesn't have much spam innit!"
But I don't like spam...I don' want it!"
We were just being silly and having a good time.
A server passing by approaches us and asks, "What language do you speak?" I look at my friend, she looks at me, completely confused. "Um, English?" I said. The server looks puzzled and said, "Oh, I thought I heard another language as I was walking by." After assuring her that no, we speak English except for JBear who looked at her and said,"Hola," thinking he was being funny we told her that, no, we speak English and that's all we speak, she walked away.
We laughed because it was just so bizarre. Then I said, "Sure, we speak another language, we call it Autism! We are fluent in Autism! Wonder if she needs an translator?"
Then from my friend: "I should have told her we were French, why do you think I have this outrageous-a akkcent-a, you silly English kaaa-niggit?"
Between the fact that we must live in a Foreign Land and the server who spilled lemonade on my friend and her son what do you know, usually it is a kid that spills during the meal...maybe the universe was righting itself since no one had spilled anything yet we probably won't be going that restaurant again any time soon. Always an adventure.
T, who knew I was weird but didn't realize I sounded that way
Not a lot is written about girls and autism, because it is just beginning to be understood. When Hans Asperger first classified it, he thought he had found a boys-only disease. It wasn't until years later that we are finding that more girls are affected than originally thought. The rate for those referred to for diagnostic tests is about ten boys to every one girl. But of those, the rate of diagnosis is one in four. That's one girl for every four boys diagnosed. This rate holds true for both classic and high-functioning autism/Asperger's Syndrome.
In the book edited by Tony Attwood, Asperger's and Girls mentions that one of the reasons that girls are less often referred for diagnosis could be that because girls are naturally more nurturing than boys, they take the "shy and awkward" girls under their wing. In this way, they teach them the social rules.
As a mother of both a boy and a girl with autism, I would agree that girls give more benefit of the doubt than boys do. Girls in elementary school can be kind and helpful to a girl who just doesn't get it. JBug, my oldest daughter had this experience with a friend. She is naturally slow to warm, reticent around new people or experiences. Her friend took her aside and taught her "Embarrassing Lessons," which was really just a way to teach her to laugh at herself and not be so self-concious. JBean has first grade friends that are very kind to her and accept her for who she is, at least at this age. In contrast, JBear has struggled with his peers, who find him "weird" and "obsessed." He often feels ostracized when it really was a matter of just being able to read cues in order to join a game.
JBug's friend also came alongside her and taught her some of what Brenda Smith Myles calls "the hidden curriculum," that is, all of the things that no one ever tells a child, that are considered polite, or kind. For instance, if JBear were to talk about Indiana Jones and as he was doing so, the person he was speaking with kept glancing at his watch and looking over my son's head , think that has happened before? that would be pretty clear to me that the person had somewhere to go and the conversation needed to come to a close. Someone with HFA/Asperger's would not get this reference. He would have missed the entire "non-verbal" conversation. According to a UCLA study, 93% of conversation is non-verbal. So you can see how difficult it can be to interact if you are effectively blind to the social cues!
In my experience, girls in elementary school are much more forgiving of social gaffes. By the time a girl reaches jr. high, it is expected that she will "know" the right things to do and say. If she does not, most girls will distance themselves from the girl who is less socially-savvy. Since girls bond with their "drama," any girl who doesn't play the game will almost certainly be, if not ostracized, just not befriended. I work as a church youth worker with jr high girls (now going into high school). For two years I have watched this happen. The interesting thing to me is that if a girl is more severely affected by Asperger's, they do give a little more leeway, but they still do not count that person as a friend. If a church group operates this way, I can only imagine that school must be even more difficult for a girl with Asperger's Syndrome.
I ran across this article today, about the perils of Asperger's as a female.
Dr Lorna Wing is a veteran psychiatrist who devoted her career to studying autism after her only child, Susie, was diagnosed with a severe form of the condition. She says girls on the autistic spectrum often appear "normal" at first meeting. "They appear to be more social than boys with autism, but then you notice that their sociability tends to be inappropriate," she says. "They might go on and on talking about the things they are interested in, and they fail to notice that you're not remotely interested. They have a poor ability to 'read' people, and that's something that's often very highly developed in females."from the Guardian
The article goes on to state that it can be difficult in the workplace for a woman with autism, because she doesn't pick up the social cues or display the empathy and understanding that many associate with females. She may face problems because of judgment.
This means that women with autism often struggle at work because they lack what is often taken for granted in women - the intuitive ability to understand where people are coming from and how to manage situations. Because of subtle sex differences, we tend to "expect" more of women in the workplace in terms of smoothing things over, of saying the right thing; and whereas we would excuse a man who lacked these abilities, we are subliminally a lot less forgiving of a woman who has similar shortcomings. from the Guardian
With all of this gloom and doom, sure I am concerned for my girls' futures. JBug has never been diagnosed with Asperger's, but has many traits that come with it, including brilliance, which will serve her well. She is already smarter than I am...shhh! Don't tell her! I believe JBug will be fine, eventually. She will find her niche and her "people"...once the drama from high school stage is finished. She doesn't have time for the gossip or the "immaturity" of her peers. Sometimes she is too serious for her own good. She will land in a scientific community, where Logic is king and Rationality rules all.
My youngest daughter is an enigma to me. JBean has been diagnosed with Autistic 
Disorder, but is pretty high-functioning. I don't quite know what will happen with JBean. She is content to sit and play with her toys, making voices for all of the Ponies, Pet Shops and Puppy in my Pockets. She makes up long and winding songs about the same. She will often play, undisturbed for hours, if I let her. But she also enjoys cuddling with those she loves, reading (or rather, learning to read) and playing/arguing with her brother and sister. All sounds normal, doesn't it? And yet... there is that certain "something" that makes the autism diagnosis.
She cuddles a little too much, too hard, and doesn't stop when first asked. Her voice is just a bit *too high-pitched, almost baby talk. When she wants your attention she goes from 0 decibels to 999,999 in a split second. We say she has two settings: normal, and car alarm. She is very private about her thoughts, and I don't know if that is because she isn't keyed into them, or she just keeps them to herself. She is very difficult to read, and I am good at reading people.
She is still so young. Who knows what time and training have in store for her? And maybe as we go, more research will be completed that explains more of the mystery behind autism and what exactly we can do about it. I am thankful for articles in mainstream publications that shed light on the issue of girls and autism, but they are few and far between. For now, I continue to work with her, read a lot and pray. I definitely pray.
T, who wonders what the future will hold, but is optimistic
Overheard:
My daughter, being helpful: "He watched TV today."
My son: "It was observation. It was educational!
My daughter: When are you ever going to be lost in Siberia with no clothes??"
T, who sometimes just stays quiet and listens
I have a confession. I am addicted to crayons. Yes, seriously. Some people buy drugs, or alcohol or mochas oh wait, that's me.. but I buy crayons. And not just any crayons, they must be Crayola crayons. I don't know what it is, but I just love the smell of those bright, waxy sticks. I love opening a new box and seeing them lined up with sharp points. As though they were just waiting for me. I adore the names of the crayons, and even their position in the box. I know where to find every color when I color- Oh, I didn't mention that? I have my own coloring books.. Currently, I have about four boxes of crayons, three that I haven't even opened yet. But my favorite box?
My favorite box was the special edition that came out after the contest winners named the colors. Contest winners came up with names like Mac n' Cheese, Timber Wolf, and Granny Smith Apple. I don't have that box anymore, though. It, along with my 
special edition state crayons perished in a heap of melted wax after the fire. I was almost as upset over their demise as I was over my iPuddle. Er, I mean iPOD.
I just love crayons. One of my favorite activities is to sit with my children and color. It calms me down. I also have some amazing coloring books by Dover, which I highly recommend. They are harder to color than the standard large lined fare designed for children. Still, aren't we all just kids at heart? We find something we love and that gives us joy...I think that might be the secret to life. Don't neglect the things you love, no matter how trivial they might seem. Take time to enjoy the small, quiet moments, whether they be snuggling a child or coloring with crayons.
I have always been fascinated by crayons, so I googled and found some interesting links. I absolutely love the Color+Design Blog, it is beautiful. The added bonus is the site lists ALL 120 Crayola colors with their hex colors! I also found The History of Crayola Crayons, with a lot of little-known facts, and when colors were introduced.
A funny story: At one point, I thought JBear was color blind. I would ask him what color something was and he would say some random name,"Brown", or "green" and the item would be neither. I was a bit concerned. Fast forward to Kindergarten and he said to his teacher one day, "Oh the sky is the most beautiful shade of cerulean blue today!" Come to find out, not only did he know his colors, he knew every one of the colors in the box of 96! I wonder where he learned that? Did I mention I am obsessed with crayons?
I do have one more confession, though. I don't share my crayons. My kids have 
their own. And when mine lose that razor sharp point, I pass them on to the kids, and buy new ones. Does that make me really frivolous?
T, who does share sometimes, but watches reaaaaally carefully
I was standing in line at the grocery store, waiting to pay for the basket full of groceries I had amassed on my once a month grocery stock-up.
My son decided to chat up the person behind us: "Do you like Mario Kart?" The person mumbled something politely, too quietly for me to hear. JBear took this as an invitation and continued, "I have Mario Kart for the DS. I also have a Wii. Do you have a Wii? I like playing boxing. I am good at boxing." I glanced back and the woman he was talking to seemed ok with her verbose companion, if a bit noncommittal. My son continued: Again, I glanced back and saw the woman shuffling her feet, looking around nervously. Time to reign him in. "JBear, shh! Come help me with the groceries." He didn't hear me. I had to call him three times. Then he started asking for gum at the checkout counter. And a yo yo. Pleeeeease? He has this trip-switch, when he has something on his mind, when he wants something, he just keeps asking. I don't even know if he realizes he does it. About that time, the lady got that look. Oh, you don't know the look? Simple. When people notice something is a bit different with your kids, they react in one of two ways. The first group widens their eyes in amazement and says, "Boy, you sure have your hands full!" And yes, yes, I do. But it is what it is. I don't have an "S" embroidered underneath my t-shirt. I am just a mom, dealing with what I have been given. I don't want praise and I don't want pity. But often, they look at me as though I stepped from a space ship, a complete alien entity. If I throw the homeschool aspect in to the conversation, I see the door slam shut, the eyes cloud over, and I can almost hear the voice in their head as they thank the Lord that they don't have kids like mine, and thank goodness it isn't contagious! The other group I encounter widens their eyes in surprise and says, "But they seem so normal." This is actually frustrating. This is the reaction I get when I try to explain Asperger's. I know that on the spectrum of special needs, Asperger's is considered pretty low. And my kids are actually mildly affected. Their behaviors are more annoying or frustrating than dangerous. My son has not eloped from a classroom since the First Grade. Of course, it helps that he has been homeschooled since the Second Grade, I suppose. He does have an anger and frustration problem. In fact, when he is angry, he could give a salty dawg a run for his grog. He has recently decided that it is really cool to respond to any insult, real or imagined, "I know you are!" You can imagine how productive that is! He is in the habit of cornering people, because he is a social guy. He wants to interact, and find interesting things in common, but he doesn't pick up the cues when someone has had enough. I am constantly playing watch dog for him, translating so they will not miss out on what he has to offer, worried that people won't like him. Or worse maybe, they will judge me because of who he is. I am not in the habit of explaining myself to random strangers, but I must be lacking. When I do try to explain to someone who inevitably asks, "What's Asperger's," I can sometimes hear, "Well, all kids do THAT." And yes, that's true. All kids do prattle on about minutiae. All kids have terrible table manners. All kids get mad and frustrated and yell. All kids don't know how to figure out when you have had enough of them. All kids interrupt. All kids wear the same clothes, every day, even if they are dirty, and get ticked off if told they can't wear that shirt again until it is washed. All kids harp over and over again about allowance, video games they want, going to the library...whatever it is that is on their mind at that very moment. All kids throw fits when they don't get their way. All kids need help getting dressed, even when they can actually accomplish this task themselves. All kids have unreasonable fears and cannot take out the garbage at night or get up to go to the bathroom in a darkened room. But the point here, is mine do it more. That's what Asperger's and High-Functioning Autism looks like. I didn't want bragging rights. I am not trying to one-up anyone else. I am simply trying to live with kids who have to live with "mild-mannered Autism." Anyone who uses this term clearly has never lived with nor experienced autism. I don't play the Label Game. I don't have Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. I don't find my identity in being Supermom or having kids with "special needs." We sought a diagnosis for my son simply because he wasn't functioning in school very well, and we started seeing some signs at home. I knew something was wrong. I wrote a letter to the school, asking for an evaluation. The district did their tests, gave us their result, and then we obtained our own private evaluation. We ended up with a diagnosis and an IEP. With some interventions and by educating myself, we found accommodations that worked for him. I learned how to talk to him, how to calm him down, how to provide a sensory diet and just learn to live with the quirkiness that can be autism. At some point, I started rolling with the flow, and it became, if not easy, something familiar. And, it was okay. I thought that was the end. Autism had touched us, but it was a tentative touch. Cut to 2006. Those who read will know this already, but we had a house fire, and lost everything. The house was standing, but they gutted it, and rebuilt everything but the bones. Every item except for the clothes on our backs was destroyed. Of course, we all took it hard, but my six year old was particularly devastated. It was and is, the only home she'd ever known. On a good day, she keeps most of her emotions to herself. This caused her to retreat inside herself. She would build I went back and forth, second-guessing myself. Autism is a spectrum, and there is a saying, "If you've seen one kid with Asperger's, you've seen one kid with Asperger's. My son and daughter are as different as night and day. I would look at her and think, "No way she is on the Spectrum...she isn't like JBear." I waffled and tested her myself, and I wanted to be wrong. She was diagnosed with autistic disorder in October. So when the woman behind me gave me that look, I just smiled at her and said, "Kids!" About that time, the cashier finished ringing up my groceries. There is a time for education, and there is a time for cutting your losses and just getting the heck out of Dodge. So I'm sorry to the autism advocates,just know some days I fight the good fight. But today I pulled myself up by my bootstraps. This wasn't the day to try and educate the public. This was a day to take my children home with me, cuddle them close and read books while munching cookies. This was a day to just be. I swallowed the lump in my throat that came from unshed tears. Yes, sometimes I grieve for what they don't have. And maybe that's not what Supermom would do. As I rolled out to the car, I realized the lump in my throat wasn't just grief. It was something else, as well. It was a fierce, protective love, and a knowing that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. And I don't think that Supermom could have it any better. T, who just does what she can do some days
hold it together; it was late in the afternoon and had been a long day. Grocery shopping is a break from the Routine that basically rules our lives, so often there is a difficulty in this endeavor. But today the children were on their best behavior. They were helping put
groceries on the conveyor belt, while JBean kept up a steady stream of chatter. Today it wasn't them, it was me. My head was throbbing: I needed caffeine and I needed quiet."Did you see the Indiana Jones movie? I did, it was
good. They have the Lego game of Indiana Jones for the Wii coming out next month. I want that. Lego also makes a Star Wars game for the DS. They are making one for the Wii, but it's not out yet..."
little worlds with her My Little Ponies, and Littlest Pet Shop, barricade herself inside the toy houses. Walls of toys would sit between her and the rest of us; she was shutting us out. We sought counseling, and of course, the question we all had was, is it the trauma or is she also on the Spectrum as well? After what we thought was a failed bout of counseling, it proved to be the catalyst and we decided to have our little JBean evaluated for autism.
Glad you're here! I'm a freelance writer, specializing in autism, special needs and education. I freelance for numerous national publications. This is where I let it all hang out, sans editor.
