Tag Archives: Autism Spectrum

Being “On Call”

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I’ve seen reports from studies that indicate that those of us who parent a child on the spectrum often suffer from similar symptoms as those with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and does anyone really wonder why?  We are in a constant state of alert, listening and watching for any signs of anxiety and stress that are in a state of escalation.  As some of my fellow bloggers have written, we know our kiddos littlest sounds and know every bit of that language.

We were at the convenience store the other day, and we stop so often that the woman behind the counter, who really means well and tries to understand, takes it as a personal accomplishment if she can get The Boy to say hello. He happened to begin stimming and galloping toward the door, and she said, “Oh no! What’s wrong!” I calmly explained that that was his “happy noise,” and we finished our purchase and left. I realized that most people wouldn’t know that.  Most people also wouldn’t know that the “errr” that has bit of an edge to it and comes quickly after a question is asked is a sign of irritation and disagreement that could escalate, or that pounding either on the floor or any hard surface often is a precursor to pacing, at the very least, and a meltdown in the worst of times.

Listening, watching, and being “on call” for these little noises and behaviors 24 hours a day, 7 days a week can be exhausting, and why I so appreciate our weekly date night.  For one night, I can stop listening and just relax.

on callIt’s also another reason my current job just isn’t working for me.  Even though I don’t get paid much, I am expected to answer texts, emails and phone calls even when I am not at work.  Do I have to?  No, but the expectation is there (and believe me, I’d be in the dog house at work for quite awhile if I just ignored it), which means I can’t even have a weekend where I’m not jumping at every notification from my phone.

A big reason I left teaching was because it took too much from me, and I didn’t have enough left for The Boy when I got home. Now, it seems I have jumped right from the frying pan into the fire. I’d love to only have The Boy to be concerned with, and not other people’s ridiculous concerns about lunchmeat and plastic leis.  The Boys crises I have come to expect, know, and understand.  Anyone else’s seem assinine in comparison, and it’s that that is getting old.

Proud

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The Man and The Boy are a sight to behold.

When we end up going somewhere in two vehicles (which happens more than I’d like, but what can I do), The Boy will always choose to ride with The Man in his truck.  They talk about vehicles, and The Man makes the stupidest, corniest jokes that only 13 year-old-boys might find funny, and they crack each other up.

They don’t wrestle as much as they used to, because The Boy is quite simply too tall, and they could injure each other easily. But they are quite comfortable with each other, and it makes me smile.

The Man has learned a lot, especially in the last two years. He questioned much more at first, but now he seems to get it. He still gets annoyed, as I do, after listening to forty-five minutes of descriptions of the dome light of every known make and model of car. But he doesn’t lose his patience. He seems much more ready to understand that a meltdown is not misbehavior.

My BoysAs I write this, I am looking out our back doors, watching The Man teaching The Boy how to drive the lawn mower, while sitting up on the back of the seat because The Boy can no longer fit on his lap.

And earlier, I watched him tear up at a news story about a special needs family fighting to get treatment for their daughter. I know his perspective has changed, and I know now we are an “us”.

I am so happy for The Boy, so happy for us. And so proud of The Man.

Not Easier, Just Different

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Mom & The BoyThe other day, I pulled out all of the scrapbooks and went through them, remarking at how little The Boy was, and reminiscing. I think some people look through old photos and are wistful for easier times…

I don’t know about other parents with kiddos on the spectrum, but I don’t miss those times. They certainly weren’t easier.

Back then, I had to deal with diapers, until the age of five.  Now I have to deal with the toilet clogging on a regular basis (Thank you, Intestinal Surgery!)

Back then, I had to deal with The Boy wandering and getting lost in department stores.  Now I have to deal with getting him to get some fresh air and come out of his room.

Back then, he was obsessed with Wubbzy and Mat Man.  Now he is obsessed with Sonic the Hedgehog, and the dome lights of cars.

Of course, our history isn’t entirely one of struggle. Luckily, the blessings of that little Boy continue to make him my joy today.  He is still (even at thirteen!) affectionate, at least at home. He still has a wonderful sense of humor, and is a lot of fun to be around. He is still able and willing to participate in the world around him (as soon as he finishes his game).

Nope, I don’t miss those days — OK, maybe I miss the smell of a baby, the giggle of a toddler, and the ability to pick him up and carry him out if he started fussing. But I don’t miss not having a single clue about autism, or a single person to talk to about it. I don’t miss the what-ifs and constant worry that is only lessened with experience and time.

I’m not saying it’s easier now.  It’s just different.  And now, even if I don’t have all the answers, at least I have a clue. 😉

The Times, They Are A-changin’

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A few weeks ago, I wrote about how the pilot program that we fought to get The Boy into will not be extended into the high school.  And tomorrow, I meet with the IEP team to discuss the plans for next year, after hearing through the grapevine that the pilot program in the middle school is being stripped down, as well.  Hence, the fabulous “opportunity” to place The Boy into a resource room for all of his cores! Blech.  Do they really think I’m that dumb?  But I digress…

Our fear is that without the pilot program extending into the high school, the district will most likely re-assign The Boy back to his home school… Do you remember his home school? I do. It wasn’t a good experience. And if that middle school that he attended for one quarter was any indication, I doubt the high school he would attend would be remotely better.

The Man and I have been in deep discussion and thought ever since these changes became apparent.  We’ve been considering options for the future of our little family.  And we’ve been property-shopping.

Even before this all came about, The Man and I were keeping our eyes peeled for an affordable bit of property on which he could build us a house.  Not hire a builder to build us a house.  This would be The Man, building us a house, with the help of some of his friends in the trades.  You see, this has been a dream of his for awhile.

So when our hand was forced, and the school district seemed likely to change The Boy’s placement for the worse, The Man and I decided that now was the time to go all in, buy a plot of land, and start building on that end of the district so that, at the very least, The Boy could attend high school with people he knows.

We closed on our lot today.

New Beginnings

More change is coming our way, as building a new house means selling our current house, and living somewhere else temporarily until the new house is built.  A lot for a kiddo on the spectrum.  But I’ve already started prepping him.  And he is actually looking forward to being able to sleep in later and a much shorter bus ride. 🙂

IEPs and Trust

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It’s IEP season again, and we have our appointment set.  We’ve also had a curious email from The Boy’s program teacher.  She was excited to tell me that they were going to offer science and social studies in a special ed classroom next year, as well as math and language arts, which The Boy already has.  He would be with students who are “academically equivalent” to him, but in classes taught by resource teachers. He would still have access to her social skills class and his elective classes.

IEP documentationConsidering the goal of special education is to place students in the least restrictive environment, and considering he would lose virtually all access to his neurotypical peers, I politely pointed out that I did not think this would be an appropriate placement for The Boy.  His program teacher cautioned me not to make any decisions just yet, because she felt this would be a good placement for him “due to his academics”.  Curious, because The Boy has gotten all A’s and B’s this year. I told her I wouldn’t rule it out, but at this time, I didn’t think it would work for him.

I added a post-script, and asked if she thought the pilot program in which The Boy participates in the Middle School would extend to the high school, to which she replied that she didn’t think so.

Fast-forward to a few days ago, when I heard from a friend whose son is in the program, as well.  She said she heard they may not continue the program at all, as in not even for next year’s 8th graders… And the tumbler clicks into place.

Even though I trust this person with my child each day, I cannot take her suggestions to heart because I fear she has been directed to encourage me to accept this put-all-the-kids-in-resource-room plan so that they can both comply with IEPs and discontinue the program. Once we change the IEP to say he needs to be in resource, they no longer have to fund a paraprofessional to be with him in his general ed classes. It’s not what’s best for the kids, but what’s best for the school district.

Silly school district! They continue to underestimate me, because I know the law, and I know my son’s rights.  They are going to have to have data to back up that he is “academically lacking” in his general ed classes to show that he needs so much more support as to be placed in a self-contained classroom, and removed from the general ed curriculum.  And they don’t have it.

Let the games begin.

Book Club Discussion: The Reason I Jump, “Never-Ending Summer” Part II

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I’m continuing the discussion here today because The Reason I Jump is an important book.  Naoki Hagashida, at age 13, answered questions about autism from his viewpoint, and while his experiences are not the same as probably anyone else’s on the spectrum, hireasons thoughts provide insight, and provoke thought, neither of which can be bad for those of us who desperately want a glimpse into the minds of our children.

Question 32 asks about what those with autism see first when they look at something.  Naoki reinforces what I have heard in many places, that those on the spectrum see the trees first, and then the forest; the details before the whole.  He also says they tend to “drown” in the particularly striking characteristics of those parts, and it tends to be harder to see anything else. If someone you love is on the spectrum, you will have, no doubt, experienced the attention to detail.  The Boy is always drawing my attention to some small part that I never would have noticed without his help.

Question 33 asks about appropriate clothing, and why this can be a struggle for those in the spectrum.  Naoki says they know and understand why we wear the things we wear, but that they “forget” what is appropriate, and how to make themselves more comfortable. He also explains that those who choose to wear the same thing each day (we have had our battles with this, for sure!) feel like their clothes are an “extension of our bodies,” and a guard against changing situations.

Question 34 asks about perception of time. Naoki says, “the fact that we can’t actually feel it makes us nervous,” and this makes perfect sense to me.  Timers help many on the spectrum have a sense of passing time, especially those that are visual in nature. And because the future is uncertain, it is a cause for a great deal of anxiety.  This is one of those answers in this book that just “clicked” for me, a true “A-ha!” moment.

Again, this book is a source of inspiration and wonder for me, and may be the closest I’ll ever get to reading The Boy’s own mind.  Not every person on the spectrum is the same, but these answers are food for a great deal of thought, and foster greater understanding and patience between me and my son.  I highly recommend this book.

How Do You Know?

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I saw a tshirt advertised on facebook the other day that read in big block letters, “I AM A MOM OF A CHILD WITH AUTISM,” and I thought, “Hm.  Don’t need that!” And then I thought about how quickly I assumed others know that about me, about us, about The Boy.

The Boy doesn’t flap much, doesn’t stim much when we’re out and about.  He saves it primarily for when he takes long walks outside, back and forth either in front of our house, or in front of Grammy’s.  Sometimes, he does it in his room, or from the kitchen to his room.  His stimming looks like an uncoordinated gallop with a sound like a voice-cracking “giggle” that could attract some stares from the un-initiated.  But I can’t recall seeing him do this at the grocery store or at a restaurant, where others may have cause to stare.

I’ll tell you when they do know.  They know about 2 seconds after they ask him a direct question.  They know when he bumps into them and keeps right on walking.  They know when he walks directly between two people that are together.

Every once in awhile, we come across some old, uppity lady who takes affront, but in general people don’t do much more than notice and go about their own lives.  So no, I don’t need a T-shirt.  Whatever people may assume, or learn after a brief encounter with us – it doesn’t much matter to me. As long as they are tolerant and kind, the rest doesn’t matter.  The tolerance and kindness will not be created by a T-shirt, but through hard work, writing, speaking, spreading the word, creating as many programs for NT kids about acceptance as there are for spectrum kids about how to fit in, volunteering, and sharing, sharing, sharing… That begins with us. Ready?

Book Club Discussion: The Reason I Jump, “Never-Ending Summer” Part I

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reasonIt’s been quite a while, but I’m continuing the discussion here today because The Reason I Jump is an important book.  Naoki Hagashida, at age 13, answered questions about autism from his viewpoint, and while his experiences are not the same as probably anyone else’s on the spectrum, his thoughts provide insight, and provoke thought, neither of which can be bad for those of us who desperately want a glimpse into the minds of our children.

When asked (Q25) Why he jumps (or stims), Naoki says that those on the spectrum “react physically” to emotions, and that their bodies at that point do not allow them to move as they wish.  Jumping allows him to shake “loose the ropes that are tying up my body.” This is an interesting perspective and while it goes along with the accepted understanding that stimming “feels good,” it adds a piece that wasn’t there before – it feels good because it is an attempt to free oneself from a body that doesn’t react exactly the way one wants it to.

Question 27 asks Naoki why he covers his ears.  He explains that it isn’t the volume, but rather that the multiple noises become disorienting and scary.  Covering his ears restores his sense of where he is, and allows him some control over his surroundings.  I think we often forget what a struggle it is for many of our kiddos on the spectrum to process sensory information that has absolutely no effect on us neurotypicals.  Add that to my list of basics I tend to forget!

In his answer to Question 28, Naoki reaffirms that many on the spectrum have no sense of where their limbs begin and end, and that results in awkward movements and the inability to know when he’s even stepped on another person’s foot.  This is why I think The Boy loves water as much as he does, because it provides that constant sensory input to let him know where he begins and ends.

Question 31 deals with eating and why some on the spectrum are “picky.” Naoki says he doesn’t really have this issue, but understands that for those that do, “only those foodstuffs they can already think of as food have any taste.”  Everything else, i.e. new foods, are received as play-food that doesn’t sound too tasty.  He hypothesizes that it may just take more time for them to “appreciate” the taste of unfamiliar foods.  This explains a lot. Often, if I can draw a connection from one food that The Boy likes to eat to another unfamiliar food, he is more willing to try it, and this explanation is a pretty good one, I think.

There are a few more questions in this section that I will tackle next.  This is one of those books that is great to read, and re-read again and again, as you’ll pick up something new each time, I think.

Posting Embarrassing Stuff About Our Kids on the Spectrum

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So many times I see something on Facebook or twitter, and without me realizing it, it starts me thinking. Thinking leads to writing, and then when I want to refer back to what triggered the thinking, I have no idea where it is, was, or will be.  I apologize for that because I feel I should link back to the source, and if I find it, I will. Sometimes I wonder if its better not to include it, because I don’t want to criticize anyone in particular, just highlight my take on it…

The other day, someone posted on Facebook about how we autism bloggers have a responsibility to our kiddos not to post embarrassing stuff about them on our blogs.  Things their friends may read, things no one would really want posted on the world-wide inter webs for everyone to see.  This is what started me thinking.

This person pointed out the distinction that some blogs take great pains to mask the identity of their kiddo, as I feel I do.  No clear pictures of faces, no names, no locations.  There are people who know The Boy directly who read this blog, but they are all adults who care about him as a person, and would never think differently about him no matter what I posted.

I did a mental review of the types of things I post and could only come up with a handful that might be considered embarrassing for The Boy. And I started to feel a little guilty despite the fact that none of his friends would be able to know this blog was about him.

As long as his identity is a secret, he can do anything!

But I thought some more.  Mostly about why I started this blog in the first place.  It really is astounding when you hear people’s stories about getting “The Diagnosis” – in every single one I have ever read or heard, they felt like they were handed the information and ushered to the door with a “Have a nice day!” and a door slammed in their face.  This is apparently still a problem.  People are given this life-altering information and no help.  I started this blog to share my experiences, so that we could navigate this thing called autism together, so that there would be somewhere someone could go to find out more than what’s in the pamphlet you’re handed as the psychologist turns to the next patient to diagnose.

And some of that stuff is embarrassing.  Our kiddos have deficits in areas neuro-typical kids don’t have to worry about – potty training until 5, or 7, or 12, not knowing bathroom etiquette, puberty… Yes, it’s not stuff a typical kid would like plastered all of the web.  But you have to balance that with the community’s need for strategies, their need to share, their need to brainstorm.

I hope I can walk that tightrope of sharing without invading my son’s privacy.  After all, I am his mom, and capable of making lots of decisions about his life.  As he grows older, I do need to get out of the way and let him advocate for himself and have some independence, but in this case, I think he would be all for helping someone else like him who was struggling, as long as I continue to maintain his anonymity.

This is a grey area for sure. And I may not be right, but it’s the best decision I can make with the information and values I have at my disposal.  Thoughts?

A New Placement for The Boy

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At our reconvened meeting yesterday, the team reached a consensus that The Boy’s needs would best be met through the pilot program at the school across the county!  He and I will visit early next week, and will officially start the Monday of (American) Thanksgiving week, which I hope will give him transition, being a short week.

I have to say that I was intimidated by the number of people that would be there, and I wasn’t sure of everyone’s agendas, but it turned out to be a very positive thing, and a constructive process to arrive at our decision.  Everyone there was really interested in what was best for The Boy, and I was very pleased at the level of conversation.

And for all of the hoping I’ve been doing, I know it won’t be “the answer” to all of our problems and issues.  Indeed, we may have exchanged new ones for the old.  But I truly feel that the depth of knowledge of the special ed staff in regards to autism, the training that the general ed staff has received and continues to receive, and the fact that The Boy has actual friends already at the school will go a lot further towards our goals for him than the program he is currently in.

I’m anxious for him, as it is all another change, and big one (and lots of little ones!), but I’m hopeful.  More hopeful than I’ve been in a long time.