What Asperger's Is Like From The Kids Who Have It

I don't usually post more than once a day, but my friend califmom found this and I HAD to share it with you. What having Asperger's is like, from the kids themselves who have it. AMAZING video.

The embedding is iffy, so if you can't see this, PLEASE go watch it here: What Asperger's Is Like

T, who watched with her teen

What Autism Really Is (not the cute textbook definition)

There's a new post up over at Sweet Schooling, about getting your child to write: how to help, along with some good resources. Check it out. Don't worry, we'll wait! AHem. Ok, on with today's post...

You've heard the textbook definition of Asperger's, "A pervasive developmental disorder ...distinguished by a pattern of symptoms rather than a single symptom. It is characterized by impairment in social interaction, by stereotyped and restricted patterns of behavior, activities and interests, and by no clinically significant delay in cognitive development or general delay in language. Intense preoccupation with a narrow subject, one-sided verbosity, restricted prosody, and physical clumsiness are typical of the condition."

but I want to tell you what it means in our life.

It means a lack of self-regulation. for my 7 year old. Going from 0-60 in intensity in about five seconds. Not being able to police herself and her reactions. Hit and/or scream first, ask questions afterwards. It means 24/7 monitoring her choices and constantly teaching her better ones. This includes teaching her to know her bodily reactions, her adrenaline levels, her anxiety.. (Incredible 5 Point Scale, How Does Your Engine Run?)

It's not being able to be patient, at all. Needing something right now. Think: toddler parenting. If the need or want is important enough to verbalize than it must be taken care of RIGHT NOW. Or else.

It's speaking in a sing-song voice, breathy, with no support from the diaphragm. Sounds very toddler.

Needing routines to go "just so" and when they fluctuate, noticing and struggling. Sunday, we didn't go to church. After church, daughter gets a donut. No church, no donut. She wanted me to drive to the donut store yesterday and get donuts. This caused no end of struggle.

Lack of spontaneous activity. She must have some sort of notice before I just spring things upon her. I always wanted to be the "fun mom" and do spur of the moment things. When my eldest was younger, I used to take her on "Pajama Runs" which was a surprise trip after lights out to dessert, in her pajamas. The youngest would never do well with that kind of diversion.

For my 10 yr old....It's asking a hundred times a day if he can play _____________ or go _______________ or buy _________. It varies, depending upon his current obsession. It can be an activity, a subject matter or a food. No matter what, it is freakin' annoying! He is like a train that is barreling down the tracks, one-minded, a machine. The only way to head it off is to switch tracks completely. As he gets older, this isn't as easy as you might think.

For my 14 yr old, it's being a perfectionist to the point of making herself sick over assignments. She doesn't pick up shades of gray, and it all must be one way, that's the only way it can be seen. There is little wiggle room in her opinion. Some would call this rigid. In fairness, as she gets older, she is becoming a little less...structured in her thinking. It still is on a daily basis. One of her favorite characters is Sheldon, on Big Bang Theory. Coincidence?

It's not only something my children must do. Navigating these waters, these sink-or-swim rapids is often my own journey. And if I am sick, or just not feeling like dealing with red is blue and green is the new black thinking?

Well, it's crazy-making.

I wish that I could say it's always fun, or enlightening. I wish I could say I was a great mom 100% of the time. But the truth is, half the time (and more some would debate) I am just blindly doing what feels right. And, on nights like tonight, when I have been fighting the after-effects of the flu, including laryngitis, I am just...

Tired.

T, who sometimes can't even get the words out to explain it...have you been there?

Related articles by Zemanta

• Does Big Bang's Sheldon have Asperger's syndrome? (tvsquad.com)
• Aspergers Syndrom in Teenagers (articlesbase.com)

And Filed Under BatShite Crazy...

just a quick post tonight, courtesy of @megfowler from twitter. She tweeted this, but I felt you had to see, too.

Just remember, no matter how much there is, there's always room for MORE crazy.

This woman needs grandkids, methinks...

T, what is the weirdest thing you ever taught your pet to do? My answer in comments...

Ok, So I Guess Reports of My Death Were Greatly Exaggerated (dammit)

Now that it has become clear that I am not dying, I must endeavor to dig us out of a week's worth of mess that comes when Mama Can't Move. (because, apparently, neither can anyone else, at least when it comes to bending over and picking up that THING that just hit the floor). Excuse me, that particular plop was my head, and it was exploding. (Did I mention my house is a wreck?)

Sadly, I am still as weak as a kitten, so I won't be doing much lifting, cleaning or yelling about the former. At least not for a bit. I am winded just going down the hall to the bathroom! So, until I recover, I will do a bit at a time. And occupy myself with other activities. Speaking of...

I took my convalescence as an opportunity to do some housekeeping. Not of the actual house, are you insane? I changed clothes and spiffed the place up. What do you think? More importantly, did you bring chocolate?

T, who figures at least the blog looks good

You can RSVP For My Funeral Here...

For four days now, I am pretty sure I have been dying. No one will tell me, but I know. It started with a high fever and body aches and has mushroomed into this cough that I am pretty sure is consumption. you can't fool me, I saw Moulin Rouge, and I know what she died from...she did a whole lot of coughing beforehand, too! So I am pretty sure that they are just humoring me, in this house. That's why they walk around on tiptoe and bow to my every whim. "Shhh! Yes, get her some orange juice, she won't be this way for long!" I know the way things work.

My youngest already has begun replacing me. When I oozed out of bed to help her into hers, something I have not been capable of doing for days, she started screeching at me:

"No, get away! I don't want you! You're a monster, you're evil! You're an alien! You're an imposter!"

Now I know I didn't look very much like myself, with flaccid, ill-kempt hair and hollow eyes, but I don't think I looked like a pod person! Of course, I am not 7. With autism. So what do I know? [this is where the picture, the one that shows me in my current state of disarray would go. I chose not to put it there. You are glad. Trust me.]

T, who hopes you will come to my funeral

Blog-What? (or Why I Will Never Be an A-List Blogger, and That and $3 Might Get You A Cup Of Coffee)

I have been percolating this post in my head for a bit what? a percolator used to be used to make coffee, the water was boiled up over the grounds...never mind, google it, loathe to write it for fear I will sound like a whiny brat. Though I am pretty sure that I am old enough not to be classified as a brat any longer. That's MRS. Bitch to you... but I have some things on my mind, and wonder if maybe others out there might have the same fears. I figure if I write it out, maybe we can lance this festering boil discuss it and be done with it.

I went to Blogher 08. It was a life-changing experience. I went with no preconceived notions. I had never met anyone there, except through Twitter and reading their blogs. And I had the best time, met women I count as lifelong friends, and learned some interesting things along the way. It was an absolute success; one of the high points of my blogging experience.

But here's the thing. I am going again this year. I am excited, and I am also afraid. Afraid it won't be the same. I know, nothing is constant except change, but when you hit a pinnacle, you want it to be the way it was. I think it is human nature. Or maybe I am just a huge wimp. I don't want to be a third wheel. And I don't want to feel out of place because I am not a hugely successful and marketable blogger.

I have been blogging for three years. I started because if I didn't write, I would explode. In the beginning, I didn't expect anyone to even read it especially not my parents..oh God, not my parents, ever but gradually, I developed a modest following, and spurred on by twitter, gained a bit of recognition. When I went to the Blogher conference, I met people who knew me, at least 140 characters of me...or my writing through my blog. But I don't make money from my blog, and the new Mommyblogger 2.0 has kind of left me in the dust.

I suppose that's my fault. I don't market myself. I have no idea what my brand is, or even if I want one. I don't contact PR or marketing firms trying to get free products. None of that is me. I just write. There is a debate going on about what it takes to be a successful blogger in the Blogosphere right now. The concern is that many of us are going to get left in the dust by a new breed of entrepeneur and marketing mamas. These are women who are savvy at self-promotion and have the time to leverage their blog. Face it, with 3 kids with autism and homeschooling, I barely have time to wipe thoroughly after using the bathroom, much less pound pavement to make myself known.

I won't lie. I wouldn't mind being on marketing panels. I would like free trips and bling to give to my loyal readers. But I wonder at what cost all of that comes. When does it become not about the writing and more about the stuff you can get for writing? I have had a few very small potatoes marketing offers. But there has been nothing that I felt would fit with my blog content. So I have turned those offers down, rather than sell out. Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge anyone else's choice to market as they see fit. We all have our own comfort level. I won't judge anyone else. I just know what feels good to me, and what I am willing to do.

Which brings me to my conundrum. Where do I fit in the blogging world? I have contented myself with the fact that I will never be an A-list blogger. Not because I think I am not good enough, I really believe I am. But there are so many out there, and only so much time for people to read. Those that get hundreds of comments for each post they write? They are a very small segment and it's not the norm. Far more people read this blog than comment. And they read yours, too... In any case, I am asking myself why I am going to Blogher this year. I certainly can't justify the expense. My "revenue stream" is a joke, and unless I am looking for a tax writeoff, it isn't going to help much at all. I went back and forth about going...but the bottom line for me is this:

whether I am an A-list blogger or not, I am a blogger. Therefore, I fit in. There will be others there that are better at what I do than I am.

But it's about the women. The women I know, the women I will meet and the women from whom I will learn. That is why I am going to Blogher. So repeat after me:

"Just for today, I am not going to get caught up in comments as currency. I am not going to look at my followers list, Facebook friends or Feedreader numbers. I am good enough, and I have a place in the Blogosphere, in whatever way I want to be there."

I started blogging because I loved it and because I wanted to help other parents dealing with an autism diagnosis and wondering what to do. I wanted to connect parents to one another, as they were flailing around and feeling stuck and alone. That is the stated purpose of this blog. Can you market it? No. Can I live with it?

A thousand times, yes.

T, who hopes you are going, too

It's the Little Things

I also have a new post on my Sweet Schoolin' blog...all about fun with genetics. Check it out when you get a chance.

I have said before how much accomplishments are treasured here, because what other parents take for granted, I just can't. Well, this is the sight that greeted me yesterday:

JBear can RIDE A BIKE! Sorry for yelling. We tried a while back, and he just wasn't getting it. And we never replaced his bike after the house fire. Guess now he needs one. The only slightly-dim spot is that the neighbor taught him. Yes, while I sat in here on my butt, on the computer, next to J, on his computer, the next door neighbor was teaching our son how to ride his nephew's bicycle. Not gonna win any Parent of the Year Awards with that one. And in my defense..I am usually out there with him, but this time I let him go out by himself. And, hey, he is riding a bike...

There won't be any stopping him now!

T, who figures now he needs a bike

Your Ten Year Mission: To Drive Your Mother To Distraction

My children are always having these conversations right out of Clerks or Big Bang Theory. The kind that make you shake your head and wonder, "What the hell was that?" I can never, ever do them justice, but they surely make me laugh.

Overheard:

JBean: This car is more advanced than Star Trek. It has automatic door locks.
JBear: The door is more advanced than your brain. You can't compare a self-sustaining spacecraft to a car.
JBean: My brain is smarter than...Star Trek..
JBear: Technically, the Enterprise is artificial intelligence, it has a personality. The episode where the Enterprise was going to be destroyed, that's where it was revealed it had an artificial intelligence..blah blah blah Ginger
JBean; No, it doesn't, it's not alive! It doesn't breathe!
JBear: Right,but that's what artificial intelligence means. It's smart, but it's not alive.It's a machine. It's artificial..(launches into a ten minute technical explanation of Artificial Intelligence..blah blah)
[pause]
JBean: Your brain isn't alive.
circle back to first statement...

at that point...I turned the music up in the car...

T, who really likes loud music, I must since I listen a lot

♫This Dude's Got a Cat On His Head♬♪

How could this be comfortable for either of them??

sung to the tune of Laurie Berkner...

T, who believes cats walk all over us, but that's ridiculous

Zombie Brains Spock, Spock Deactivates Machine ...WHAT?!

just a quick follow-up to the Big Bang Theory post, specifically the Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock game...because I found this and someone actually made it work..add zombies! Everything is better with zombies:

The diagram is a bit confusing, but if you check out the site, the rules are a bit more straight-forward. Wanted the traffic to go over there for explanation. So go here, and make sure to comment on his genius, ok?

T, who knows my son will be all over this like a lizard on spit

It All Started With a Big Bang

Lately, we have been watching Big Bang Theory from Netflix. I double-heart this show! I knew when the theme song was by the Barenaked Ladies that it was going to be irreverent, and it didn't disappoint. Big Bang Theory is about two theoretical physicists that are roommates, the hot chick who moves in across the hall, and how they and their friends relate to her. All of the scientists seem to be on the Spectrum, extremely high-functioning. It really shows them positively. I swear, I knew those guys in college! (I like to think I was the hot chick and not the geeky scientist-chick, but who am I kidding?)

From the moment they talked about playing Klingon Boggle, I was hooked. This is a funny, funny show. At one point, Leonard is getting lucky and Sheldon has no idea how to deal with the tie on the door...something he has never seen before. But here are a few quotes to whet your appetite:

"Explain to me an organizational system where a tray of flatware on a couch is valid. I'm just inferring that this is a couch, because the evidence suggests the coffee table is having a tiny garage sale."

"At least now you can retrieve the black box from the twisted smoldering wreckage that was once your fantasy of dating her and analyze the data so that you don't crash into geek mountain again."

"There wouldn't be any ass kickings if that stupid death ray had worked."

Suffice it to say, I woke my daughter up I was laughing so hard. I am pretty sure it is on Mondays at 8 p.m. on CBS...but we started with Disc 1 of Season 1...gotta love Netflix! Just one thing, it might not be suitable for your kids (though I did let JBug, at almost 15, watch it...I previewed first) so use your best judgment.

(Apparently last night the cats loved it too, because they turned on the home theatre system at full blast last night and woke everyone but me. I guess I am a pretty sound sleeper, once I actually get to bed).

T,who asks which were you, the geek or the hot chick?

Part 2: Somewhere Over The Rainbow Lies an Autism Diagnosis ( I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore!)

This is Part 2...did you read Part 1 first?

JBear was diagnosed with High-Functioning Autism (HFA or Asperger's, depending upon who you ask) at around the same age as JBean. In autism circles, it was considered a late diagnosis. He never received early intervention because he just came across as "quirky" in the beginning. He really wasn't struggling the way you would expect, well at least not until the first grade. Then he started running from the classroom, hiding under desks. He couldn't function in a classroom. But JBean wasn't struggling at all.

I know I sound like I am in denial, but I really am not. There were a few behaviors that I couldn't quite put my finger on...they seemed slightly..off. Yes, she could play for hours alone, making elaborate games and worlds that were hard for her to share with others. Yes, she threw horrible tantrums. But then, maybe it was just normal and I was being paranoid. This was a preventative measure...if she was affected, the concern I felt was for the future, not the present..

The doctor played with JBean, taking notes. Then she had yet another cheery young assistant play with my daughter while she observed from another room. Finally, she was ready to give us the verdict. She sat back in her chair, and pulled her glasses off, setting them on the folder in front of her. She cleared her throat. She had done this a thousand times. This was just one more speech. "Mr. and Mrs. Cruz, she began, your daughter has autism. That's my diagnosis. She will need special ed, Occupational therapy and speech." She waited, eyes fixed on us. It was our move.

I didn't know what to say. It was happening again. The room was spinning, I fought to regain control. I explained to the medical professional that I homeschooled, and we would provide private services for our daughter, if needed. She pursed her lips and looked at me steadily. "Can you provide the support she would get in special education classes? She needs to be around other kids her age. She needs a trained instructor and support staff, or you are going to have trouble on your hands. You are not equipped to deal with this. I have an autistic child, I know what I am talking about."

I tried to keep my voice from quavering. At times like these, I had such a fear of authority. "I believe we can give her what she needs. Her brother was diagnosed three years ago and is doing very well. I held her gaze. "We will always do what is right for our daughter." She pushed her chair back and refused to look at me again. She sighed. "I'll have the desk write up my recommendations, and see you again in six months." She stood to leave, shaking our hand. We had been dismissed.

Hours later, as I sat with the letter in front of me, I thought about what it would mean. Yes, I knew how to deal with this. Yes, I knew interventions: sensory diet, brushing techniques, self-control strategies. But I was already wearied thinking of going back to Square One again. Autism is exhausting. How was I going to handle this? And why did I have to? What did I do wrong that caused my children to have autism? I didn't steal. I didn't sleep around. I was a good person, and I loved God. (Sure, I knew God loved me, but at that moment, I didn't care, I was feeling sorry for myself.)

Three years before, when we sat in the psychologist's office, and, after extensive testing, received a diagnosis of High-Functioning Autism, I was relieved. It was the culmination of a long journey and the label helped me make sense of JBear's behavior. I felt something close to relief. Now it had a name.

I have three children. The youngest is the last. That night, I found out my 5 year old, my baby daughter, the one who was almost 10 weeks premature and with whom I had spent a month camped out next to in the NICU, the one I carried in a sling for months because she could not bear to be away from me, had autism. There it was, in black and white. Autistic Disorder. I felt relief when it was my son. While the rest of my family slept peacefully,I sat up and tried to make sense of yesterday. I did not want the diagnosis to color the way I saw my beautful girl. Though she was the same child as she had been earlier that morning, something had irrevocably changed. That night, the night I was forced to accept what I already knew in my heart? That night... I cried.

T, who wants to hear your experiences

Somewhere Over The Rainbow Lies an Autism Diagnosis ( I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore!)

This is Part 1.. the post was too long, so I split it... Will post the rest tomorrow evening...

It was 2 a.m and everyone was sleeping. I was staring at the letter, willing it to disappear. I wished like hell that I could go back in time, to yesterday. Yesterday, when I didn't know what I now knew. I wanted to go back before the appointment. before my husband and I walked into that building with the obnoxiously bright blue carpet and rainbow- muraled walls and had our world shattered, yet again.

Eight hours before, we had entered the glass building approaching the double doors of the suite, checked in with the cheery young receptionist and taken a seat in the waiting room until our name was called. I looked at my tow-headed five year old as she played with the office blocks. Surely, there was nothing wrong with her, right? I had initiated this; I had to be sure.

I took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. I imagined I could hear the ticking from the clock on the wall. It was hard to wait. My husband squeezed my hand encouragingly. Was he as scared about this appointment as I was?.

When our name was called, we followed another cheery young assistant in techicolor-scrubs to a small room, filled with toys. An older woman entered and introduced herself as the doctor. I cannot remember what she looked like...at this point it doesn't matter. She asked us a lot of questions: did JBean play well with others? Did she have friends? Did she line things up? When did she walk? Talk? Eat? Did she sleep well? The questions continued, peppering me with the accusations that went unspoken. Could she read? Write? Count? Could she skip? What about throwing a ball? Why didn't you get intervention sooner? ...because we didn't know. Not really. Besides, doesn't autism only strike once per family? That's fair, right?

More tomorrow...

Here is part 2 in case you googled and only found this post, it continues the story

T, who found this a very hard post to write, but if it helps just one person, it was worth it

Comment For Autism --NOW

For Valentines...just in time. WHO says you don't make a difference? Go and comment on Party Planning Professor... ..it's the post I wrote. Every comment will earn a .25 donation for Autism Speaks. That's right, what you say is worth a quarter! More importantly, we gain autism awareness. So, make my Valentines Day...go do it! Now.

Thanks and love to you! T.

T, who appreciates it

For the Last Time, It's Not My Parenting

My youngest daughter was diagnosed when she was around five, I believe. We suspected she had autism, but you may have heard the saying, "If you've seen one child with autism, you've seen one child with autism." That's true. It is amazing how differently it manifests even just between the two children! We actually didn't even think she had autism, since it was so different from the way my son behaved.

My son lined things up..she does not, but she has to have things Just So. My son has pet subjects, she does not, or at least, none that are consistent. He had self-control issues when he was younger. She also has self-control issues. She is seven years old, but has a really tough time with transitions. Even when it is something she wants to do, she has a tough time moving from one activity to another. I feel that I walk on eggshells with this child, praying she doesn't melt down in front of the wrong people, and I am constantly making excuses for her behavior, and I hate doing that. But when you see a seven year old who is throwing a fit, screaming and frustrated about leaving the park, even though she is headed to her preferred-activity, ballet, what would you think? Be honest, what would you really think?

That's what I thought.

T, who is used to the judgment, and it doesn't bother me anymore

The Grammy Selection Committee is 14 Ninety Year Olds, a 13 Year Old and Somebody's Cat

On the Grammys...

Coldplay...I know you guys are all sexy and everything, and Chris Martin has an ego the size of a house, so he probably thinks he can wear whatever he wants...

Uhm, guys? The Wiggles called...they want their outfits back. Seriously. WHAT were you thinking??

And, M.I.A.? We get that you are pregnant and want us to know you are good with it. You are hip, you are cool. But the ladybug costume... did you get a discount? What possessed you??

And Grammy Committee...I get the whole musical fusion of styles, and for the most part, I really dig it. But THE Stevie Wonder. With the Jonas Brothers? You choose the least soulful group for him to collaborate with? It was scary, and really didn't work.

Also, we need to talk. TobyMac and Brandon Heath (who were nominated for best Gospel something or other) are NOT gospel. They are contemporary Christian. Oh, I know, they are gospel like Jethro Tull was heavy metal, right? Well, a flute is metal, so you got it half right.

While the Grammys have improved in the last few years, and I no longer want to gnaw off my arm when faced with the prospect of watching the broadcast, it is still woefully out of touch with what real music is. If you want to see real music in action, hit blip.fm.

T, who loves music & had to weigh in

It's 3 a.m. I Must Be Lonely

The following exchange took place at approximately 3 a.m.:

(after watching Bones, a show about an FBI agent and a cultural anthropologist who is his partner)

Me: If Temperance Brennan and Seely Booth got married, they would be Tempie and Seely...how cute!
J: [silence]
Me: And then her name would be Temperance Booth...sounds like a place to make a confession
J:[a bit of snickering, but I am pretty sure he is rolling his eyes in the dark]
Me: and if they have a kid, they could name him Telly. You know, Telephone Booth.
J: [sigh] Can I... punch you in the head now?

For some reason, this sent me into fits of giggles...it was just so out of character for him to say... So then the poor guy, who is trying to sleep (we had just gone to bed) had to contend with me laughing so hard I had tears coming down my face...never a dull moment when you live with me.

see why he loves me?

T, who says aren't I witty?

Last night, I finally took JBug to see Twilight. She has been asking for a while, and our schedule lined up to allow it. First, we went at 10:15 p.m. which was a good time. Sunday night, all the kids are home in bed in preparation for school. Also, the city of Orange has a 10 o' clock curfew, so that meant we were alone in the theatre. Which was good, so I could talk through the movie. It was the only thing that got me through it. The director of the movie also directed Thirteen. And that's the problem. She treated all of the characters like they were angsty jr. highers. Truly, a waste. She took a decent teen lit book and destroyed it with poor casting, awful makeup and laughable acting. This Edward is not someone you would fall for. And the woodeness of Kristen Stewart really calls into doubt her ability to feel anything for him.

Sad state of affairs when the humans have more life and are more interesting than the vampires you are supposed to revere. Suffice it to say, that's two hours I won't get back.

T, who loves vampires, but not these

I am a Superbowl fan. I am not a football fan. There is a difference. I watch the Bowl for the commercials. We rate them and find it a lot of fun. Here is a link to this year's commercials, so you can share in the fun. Let's discuss in comments, shall we? Which did you love? Which did you think fell flat?

By the way, the game was decent. If you like that kind of thing...

T, who asks what was your favorite Superbowl commercial?

Oh, You're One of THOSE?!

Over the years, I have witnessed an exodus of sorts when it comes to the education of friends' children. More and more parents of children with autism and Asperger's Syndrome are choosing to homeschool. We are the well-kept dirty little secret that your school district doesn't want you to know: often our children can be better served at home than in the school system.

I would have never said such six years ago. I was a died-in-the-wool PTA, room mom, get into the system and change it, agent. But one horrific year with my son's classroom (through no fault of the teacher) and I became a true believer. I figured I couldn't do a worse job than the school, and I might even be an improvement. Besides, my son hated school, to the point I was literally dragging him there. Something had to give.

And now? I homeschool all three of my children, and this is our 5th year. Two have been diagnosed with high functioning autism, they are 7 and 10 respectively. My oldest is going on 15, and though she has never been diagnosed, she has many of the deficits of Asperger's, and is also academically gifted. Her father is a computer engineer, and is most likely also on the Spectrum. (he was never tested, but off the record, our psychologist said so) So, you do the math...

In any case, bringing my children home has worked out wonderfully for us. Homeschooling has allowed me to tailor each program according to what works for each child. My 14 yr old, who went to school for 6 years benefits from a very academic program. She enjoys the structure and it works. My middle guy, at 10, is the one I walk the line with. He isn't unschooled, but his academic structure would, at first glance, seem more relaxed. It is still very scheduled, however. But we benefit from frequent breaks, sensory diet and multisensory approaches. I can choose activities that he enjoys, and we keep work periods short and focused. He can take a break for pogo stick or OT work, as needed. My littlest one, at 7, is the one that learns best through games and Mom Time. She needs one-on-one (as does my son) that she wouldn't get in a classroom. She often has to be taught a concept repeatedly before she gets it.

My middle guy is also dyslexic, which makes it interesting, and I am thinking my littlest may be, as well.

As for socialization...which is a joke anyway... but still. We have found with regular play dates, activities and park outings, my children do just fine. There is more time for preferred subjects (my 14 year old taught herself to both play the piano and knit, because she had more time than if she was traditionally schooled.) We have more time (and funds) for field trips and activities. While other kids are sitting in a classroom, mine are out learning in the world.

There is a park day we attend and have for years. The attendance is large, with many different ages and multiple abilities. There are several kids from all ages that are on the spectrum in varying degrees. It is a very welcoming group. Truly, it was the best decision we ever made for our family.

When my son ended 1st grade, he barely read, was behind in math, his writing was still reversals (though he is left handed, so that made it worse). I would literally dress him like a doll and drag him, kicking, to the public school. He would sit under the teacher's desk, or make games. His aide was useless, only serving to keep him from eloping from the classroom. His work was all sent home. I was already homeschooling, and my son was in the school system!

He is now in the 5th grade, and reads at grade level. His math is also at grade level, or just below. He is above in Science, History, Geography. His writing and penmanship has improved 10 fold. and most importantly, he loves to learn. I have found that learning is a broad term for what we do every day. Mythbusters is learning and exploring Science. Going to the Arboretum is a chance to discuss the environment and botany, as well as the food chain. In fact, every activity has inherent learning in it...you just have to find it.

The most important thing to remember about homeschooling? It isn't something you do. It's something you live. And there really is no wrong way to do it. You can, and your child can... and if it doesn't work, keep tweaking. Also, what your state standards may find important, you may find doesn't mesh with your family. That's ok. I have found that as we go, my kids pick up information I didn't formally teach. And the one thing I want to equip my children with? The ability to find information.

The freedom I have found, as well as the free time away from IEPs, discipline meetings and just general headache is now energy I can pour into helping my son love learning. Less time is spent arguing over what the schools think he needs and more time is given to what he actually needs. We have personalized his goals, and we make sure he reaches them. There is no fighting with autism experts who insist my son is meeting goals that are either too broad, too easy or just plain wrong. I am in control. And my children are the better for it.

That, to me, is success.

T, who hopes that clears that up

Technorati: autism, homeschool, Asperger's

I Used to Have All the Answers. Then I Had Children

It started over tea. She wanted to have a tea party. But she didn't want to use water. That's for babies! She wanted me to make tea. Which I couldn't do, I was helping her older sister with her Algebra. Part of homeschooling is taking turns. Littles, at 7, isn't always good with that. Well, let's face it, she is really bad at it. When it is her turn, she expects everyone else to wait. But make her wait? And it is Meltdown-City. She will extract her pound of flesh, one way or another. Of course, it passed. It always does. But the aftermath for me is the hardest part. The way I am left feeling: drained, defeated, ready to cry.

I suppose I shouldn't be too upset. She hasn't had a tantrum all week long. Her dad was gone for ten days and in that time, she has been fine. We have had a few missteps here and there, but no full blown I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU episodes. Maybe that means she is getting older. Maybe that means the developmental delay that is Autism Spectrum Disorder is righting itself. Maybe that means the naked chanting that I did by melting green crayon and throwing sheets to the wind has paid off. (I am just kidding about that last part.) Maybe it's just that the tide is high and the moon is low. Hell, I don't know.

And that's part of the problem. I don't know. If you ask me a question about grammar or algebra or llama breeding, I can probably tell you. Or, barring that, I can find out. But as far as the exact reason my daughter is tantrumming, or the tried and true foolproof method of stopping said fit, that seems to be missing on Google. Certainly there are suggestions, but what if they don't work? What then? With children, you don't add A to B and necessarily get C.

If I was a carpenter, I would be sure that I have the latest tools, the best ones to get the job done. A hammer will always work as a hammer. A level, well, that's designed for leveling. With just a few simple tools, a carpenter can build many things. With a few more, he becomes a master craftsman. It can take a lifetime to wield the tools correctly. But even if his skill is only passable, he will be able to create a chair.

As a parent, I work hard to develop my parenting skills. I think if had neurotypical children I would be a pretty good parent. I add tools to my toolbox often. They say if you only tool you have is a hammer, then everything looks like a nail. I am guilty of this at times. But a soft word or patience? Those don't always work. In truth, there are times that I run out of tools in my toolbox. I keep thinking if I just gain more gadgets, if I just learn more schematics, I will, eventually, build the Taj Mahal. But with autism? All bets are off. Sometimes, a level ends up as a fulcrum. Or a hammer ends up as a paper weight. Sometimes, I end up dancing around like a monkey because I have to think outside the box. Down is up, and and Left is Right and OhMyGod is it 5 o' clock yet??

I am not a drinker. I have a bit of Irish Cream or Kahlua in my hot cocoa or coffee about twice a month. A glass of wine about as often. And though I talk about it, I just don't do it. There are times I wish I did drink more. Then I wouldn't care so damn much when I reach the end of the toolbox and find nothing but sandpaper and a ball ping hammer. But I do care, and it kills me and I always wonder, why can't I be a better parent? Why can't I help her calm down before she gets to that place where she is completely unreasonable? Why must I be left feeling like a hollow shell with every nerve exposed? What am I doing wrong?

T, who will be fine later, just right now it's hard

And Now a Word (or several)

From President Obama's inaugural speech...

cloud by Jem Stone from Wordle

T, who thinks this speech will be remembered

I Didn't Think This Day Would Ever Come

Today is the beginning of a new day. I am so happy, and full of hope. Truly, it sounds silly, and I know I am supposed to be cynical. In this situation, I just can't be. I like him. I trust him. And I believe in the future we will create together.

There's a lot of work to be done, and a lot of mess to clean up. Crimes were committed and those who perpetrated them need to be held accountable. But, not today. Today is a day of joy. So I will just say....God Bless the United States of America.

T, who says let freedom...REAL freedom, ring

How Faith Is Born

When I was 15, I knew God loved me. Sometimes, I would go out at night, but always made it home by curfew. I would come home and turn the tv on, watching movies until dawn. I am a night owl, by birth, I think, so I am at my best in the wee hours of the morning. I would watch as one movie melded into another, as I was swept away into new worlds. When the Movie Go Round would end, the first vestiges of light would be peeking out from around the moon, and soon after, the sun would rise. I would stand on my porch, in Central California, in the early morning fog, and I would feel alive.

My childhood home was a 3 bedroom ranch house with a bit of property, a rural suburb of a larger city, which really wasn't large at all. My town didn't even have it's own post office, but I had horses so that more than made up for it. Over the years, my family had a small parade of animals: horses, a calf, pigs, ducks, chickens. We had rabbits for a very short time, until our neighbor's dog ripped open the cages and ate them. I remember the tears of both myself and my younger brother. I learned a lesson about the food chain that day. Also, lessons about cruelty, predatory behavior and that neglect and ignorance of your animals is abuse. The neighbor, a puffy swagger of a man was not bothered when he learned his dog had killed my rabbits in cold blood. I realized that day there are things more evil than an animal following its biological impulses. The dog couldn't be helped. The man loosely known as his keeper was another story.

But, this story is about God. On those mornings, with the fog blanketing everything in stillness, I could feel God. In Monterey County, the fog does not come in on little cat feet, contrary to what Carl Sandburg wrote. No, in Monterey County, the fog, which is ever-present, settles in with a thud. It doesn't so much float as paint the skies, the fences, the houses in a thick coating of black and white. Very like my beloved late night movies. Life becomes grainy and indistinct, and takes on an air of unreality.

Under the spell of the fog, ordinary spiders' web becomes coated with diamonds, the dew from the fog enveloping each strand the way Winston drips his jewels on movie stars. (The effect of course, pales in comparison to what the Master Jeweler creates). The fog muffles sounds, and though at five in the morning, there isn't much sound to speak of, what is there is muted, indistinct. Save for the sounds of the animals, who are talking to their Maker, there isn't much conversation.

I would stand on the front porch, and feel the enormity of Life...and, as teenagers are wont to do, believe it was all for me. It really felt that way. God was wooing me, with the day, the animals, the utter joy and peace that emanated from Him on those mornings. I fell in love with my Creator, the one who had woven and spun all that I could see, and so much more that I could not. I could feel the absolute sense of order, and the eye for beauty that one who was so busy with the world, would not seem to have time to find important. And yet, he did. And since I was the only one awake, it was all for me. I would pet my horse as my dog happily trotted at my heels and I would feel a kinship, a certain conspiracy since we knew the secret. God was alive and busy in the world. More importantly, he loved us.

I didn't grow up in a home where faith was the answer. In fact, my childhood taught me to believe mostly in myself. I still have no idea how I came to faith, except those mornings were instrumental in helping me to understand God. I hadn't read the Bible, though I had been to Sunday School some, with friends. But it was he who made himself known to me that pulled me to him. Though I had many years where I questioned, and a brief time in my youth where I followed, that time marked me indelibly as His. I didn't understand doctrine, but I understood Love. It was enough. It was a start.

T, who is waxing poetic tonight

Maybe We Should Only Eat the Ones Without Chocolate

Tonight we had a great time baking at a friend's house. JBug drizzled chocolate on cookies and noticed the patterns looked like chromosomes. (yeah, only she would notice that) She ate part of the chocolate and said:

"I just created a mutant!"

This explains much...why our genes are so crummy? Cosmic Baker is up there messing with the chocolate! Could he have drizzled just a bit more in certain places?

T, who likes cookies, especially the drizzled ones

Good Thing I Didn't Tell Him to Jump Off a Bridge

Today I was making dinner and my son was goofing off, sort of getting on my nerves. Asking for a snack and whining about being hungry. Finally he said, "What CAN I have??" So I said to him

"You can have a poke in the eye with a sharp stick!" Thinking that was the end of that. He comes back with a bamboo skewer and points to his eye. "Right here." he says.

Talk about feeling like crap. I have to watch my sarcasm.

T, who really needs to think before I open my mouth

I Don't Make New Year's Resolutions. But, If I Did...

Lately I have been thinking about why I am not writing as much. I am not really burnt out, but just feeling a lot of pressure to perform or something. Then I read this, and now I get it. She said it more eloquently than I could. So, rather than try and reinvent the wheel,just go read Okay, Fine, Dammit. Now.

Have you found yourself writing less? Do you have a plan to deal with it?

T, who says why can't I just write and forget what people think?

15 Hours and Two Missing Pieces Later

This is why I don't do puzzles. Yes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This puzzle was beautiful, but very hard to put together. Still, here it is, evidence. I could write the company for replacement pieces, but I am not altogether sure we didn't lose the pieces. (though I don't see how we could have)

T, who figures I should have just watched TV instead

It's the Most WONDERFUL Time....Of the Year

My favorite day of the year? December 26th

Why? Because it's....over! It is wonderful to get up in the morning and know I have nowhere to be, nothing to do. And the fact that the kids are happy, well that's just a bonus.

I hosted J's family, about 15 people in all, for dinner (potluck, I am not stupid!) and present opening. Unfortunately, I didn't take a single picture! It was a lot of fun. And a lot of work. I earned my rest, between food, cleaning, wrapping and getting ready. J was a huge help, thank goodness.

So I woke up and wii played.

Can you tell from the picture what the favorite present was this year? We are having a great time. I won't be singing in public anytime soon, though...

T, who is glad to be DONE

Watch This Before It Disappears! (worth it, really)

No telling when this will be pulled on YouTube, so watch now. A couple of years ago, I found this amazing acapella music group called Straight No Chaser. I spent a couple of hours watching their stuff and just being in awe. They have a hilarious rendition of 12 Days of Christmas, but the original, where they performed on stage, after being up for a few YEARS, must have been pulled recently. The musicians themselves put it up, but they cut an album in October so there may be contractual issues. In any case, I found another performance of it:

I was BEYOND thrilled to find out they cut a Christmas album in October, and I bought it on iTunes. LOVE it. Really. If you like good Christmas music, you have to buy this, it is a favorite of us all now.

>What Christmas music do you especially like?

T, who really, really recommends this CD

Just Another Day in the Life Of She Who Seems Sane By Comparision

Sometimes, my life is so surreal I cannot believe I live it. But, it's good.

It started today with a Cuddle when Littles (JBean) climbed into my bed this morning, making mewling noises like a baby kitty. not so much what you want to hear at 9 a.m. but we get our cuddles where we can

Then, after I was up, my 14 yr old refused to get out of bed, so I put on a favorite CD, turned it on and threw a Dance Party in her room. I suggest TobyMac for this, by the way I danced on her bed, over her, around her, and she still didn't get up. She did do a bang-up job of pretending to ignore me, though. I recommend her if you need lessons. So I called in reinforcements.

My geeky husband, J, showed up and danced around in his Darth Vader pajama bottoms. This is a sight to see, but that's for another day. Then JBean and JBear showed up and we just danced around the room, being silly and embarrassing Ms. I Don't Know You Guys. She still didn't get up, so a bit later, J went in and tickled her and carried her out like a baby. She is finally up. That only took 40 minutes.

Then, J and JBear were sparring with...a towel and a stuffed animal. I know, right? J had a rolled up bath towel and JBear had a stuffed rat, using the tail side pointed outwards. J maintained he won, with the large towel. I countered,

"No, Rat Butt always beats Towel."

Just another morning in the House of Awetism.

How about you, what did you do today?

T, who looks sane in comparison

Dammit, J, I'm a Writer, Not a Mathematician!

My daughter taught herself to knit. She just decided one day that she wanted to know how, looked up some videos online, practiced. Once she hit a snag (heh) she found someone who could explain it to her.

She has a rather scientific and literal mind. So I am pretty sure she will be thrilled with this:

A mobius strip??

math-based knitting. Are you still here? wait, it really is interesting...

Or there is Guerilla knitting.

Ants not included...

Apparently, knitting isn't just for Grandma anymore!

T, who knitted for about 5 minutes last year, then forgot how

So THAT'S the Problem!

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's happy (slight language)

Awesome.

T, who is too busy and annoyed with it all

General Anxiety, Reporting for Duty, Sir!

I envy those with phobias. Oh, to be afraid of elevators. Or to get weak-kneed about crowds. Would it be easier if heights made me sweat? But I cannot point to just one thing I am afraid of. It is more of an infected anxiety, and it permeates my life. It would be so much easier if I could point to just one or two causes of the unrest. I could confront them (because, truly, would you expect anything less?) make peace with them and move on. I could be done with anxiety for the rest of my life. And wouldn't that be something?

Don't get me wrong, I am not a quivering ball of goo. I am very, very good at compartmentalizing. I can lock the anxiety away for a rainy day. With two children with autism (perhaps 3) I just don't have time to be anxious! Someone always needs something, so my time is limited to "what can I do for you?" If I stop functioning, my house completely falls apart, and we can't have that. I am the tipping point here and I hold it all together (in more ways than one). If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy? Written for my family. I am the emotional barometer in my house. And it is hard, hard work.

I am hoping for a promotion as I learn to serve. I am taking more time to deal with those feelings in order to figure them out and get past the worries.

Essentially, I have been drafted and don't really have a choice. My life is Boot Camp, and my commanding officer is General Anxiety. I know I will make it through, but I am pretty sure there will be cussing along the way.

T, who is learning