Autism Au Lait

If you're an Autism mom and you're honest with yourself, you know very well that there is only so much you can do to combat the stress that the condition brings to you, and to your children. I try to get breakfast together FAST because I know Charlie is hungry, and keeping Charlie fed cuts down on tantrums dramatically.
But this morning, it was after breakfast, in the lull when the oldest boy and I were having a coffee and talking about a video game that the screaming started, out of the blue.
The two of us leaped up and ran into the living room.
Scene, one little girl sitting on the floor playing with a Barbie. One little boy playing with an airport, dinosaurs, toy soldiers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. TV is singing"I FEEL BETTER SO MUCH BETTER" from Doc McStuffins. And one little boy, writhing on the sofa shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Sheep being devoured alive by wolves scream less.

It was my Charlie. I rushed over to him and took his hands and said "Charlie what's WRONG?" At this point, he starts twisting my fingers as hard as he can and tries to jam his chin HARD into my face. I'm trained in the autism martial arts, so I flip my giant nine year old into a basket hold and hug him tight and whisper "Shhhh shhhhh it's OK, what is WRONG baby? Do you hurt?" He doesn't answer, he says random words I can't divine meaning from. 

Was it the TV? Did Miles pull his hair? Did Julia take something from him? I don't know. He can't tell me.

"All done," he says. I confirm "All done?" And he says "Yeah." 

As I am letting go, Miles runs back into the room (when did he leave?) and shouts "I NEED A WIPE!"

Louis darts into the dining room "OH NO MOM HE SPILLED ALL OF YOUR COFFEE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!"

I let Charlie go, and he's now laughing and watching TV, and Louis and I frantically start cleaning the new stain on our dining room floor. I ponder how much a steam cleaner would cost me. It's in desperate need, the Berber is flat. 

We scrub and spray cleaner and scrub, and as we're soaking up coffee and scrubbing our eyes meet and we both start laughing. "It's a crazy life," Louis says.

Isn't it?

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Autism Au Lait

If you're an Autism mom and you're honest with yourself, you know very well that there is only so much you can do to combat the stress that the condition brings to you, and to your children. I try to get breakfast together FAST because I know Charlie is hungry, and keeping Charlie fed cuts down on tantrums dramatically.
But this morning, it was after breakfast, in the lull when the oldest boy and I were having a coffee and talking about a video game that the screaming started, out of the blue.
The two of us leaped up and ran into the living room.
Scene, one little girl sitting on the floor playing with a Barbie. One little boy playing with an airport, dinosaurs, toy soldiers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. TV is singing"I FEEL BETTER SO MUCH BETTER" from Doc McStuffins. And one little boy, writhing on the sofa shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Sheep being devoured alive by wolves scream less.

It was my Charlie. I rushed over to him and took his hands and said "Charlie what's WRONG?" At this point, he starts twisting my fingers as hard as he can and tries to jam his chin HARD into my face. I'm trained in the autism martial arts, so I flip my giant nine year old into a basket hold and hug him tight and whisper "Shhhh shhhhh it's OK, what is WRONG baby? Do you hurt?" He doesn't answer, he says random words I can't divine meaning from. 

Was it the TV? Did Miles pull his hair? Did Julia take something from him? I don't know. He can't tell me.

"All done," he says. I confirm "All done?" And he says "Yeah." 

As I am letting go, Miles runs back into the room (when did he leave?) and shouts "I NEED A WIPE!"

Louis darts into the dining room "OH NO MOM HE SPILLED ALL OF YOUR COFFEE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!"

I let Charlie go, and he's now laughing and watching TV, and Louis and I frantically start cleaning the new stain on our dining room floor. I ponder how much a steam cleaner would cost me. It's in desperate need, the Berber is flat. 

We scrub and spray cleaner and scrub, and as we're soaking up coffee and scrubbing our eyes meet and we both start laughing. "It's a crazy life," Louis says.

Isn't it?

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Double The Birthdays

My big twin boys turned nine this week. With their sister having a birthday just ten days earlier there was a lot of Chuck E Cheese and kid related fun to be be had two weekends in a row. Watching them turn nine was a little sad, because chronology doesn't not tell you anything about how mature they are. It's just how many years they've been alive. 

But despite a bit of motherly wistfulness, their birthday was greeted with kisses and excitement and joy. Birthdays are happy days. Even if they don't quite get WHAT a birthday is, they do understand that when we say it's birthdays there will be presents and cake.

They don't like cake but whatever.

One of the bus drivers drew the Minion card as a gift and there were books and gifts that made them both smile and giggle. Plus there were balloons. Who doesn't like balloons?

Sometimes exciting things happen, as we celebrate the three birthdays in April. They're things you might not even notice - but a little boy painting his name at the painting activity is a big deal at our house.

So Happy Birthday Miles and Charlie. I hope your day was special, and you always know that we love you. 

Even if you are never the age you actually are.

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Double The Birthdays

My big twin boys turned nine this week. With their sister having a birthday just ten days earlier there was a lot of Chuck E Cheese and kid related fun to be be had two weekends in a row. Watching them turn nine was a little sad, because chronology doesn't not tell you anything about how mature they are. It's just how many years they've been alive. 

But despite a bit of motherly wistfulness, their birthday was greeted with kisses and excitement and joy. Birthdays are happy days. Even if they don't quite get WHAT a birthday is, they do understand that when we say it's birthdays there will be presents and cake.

They don't like cake but whatever.

One of the bus drivers drew the Minion card as a gift and there were books and gifts that made them both smile and giggle. Plus there were balloons. Who doesn't like balloons?

Sometimes exciting things happen, as we celebrate the three birthdays in April. They're things you might not even notice - but a little boy painting his name at the painting activity is a big deal at our house.

So Happy Birthday Miles and Charlie. I hope your day was special, and you always know that we love you. 

Even if you are never the age you actually are.

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Wither Pollen

I grew up in the midwest. And yeah we had pollen. I mean, in THEORY we had pollen. I heard about pollen, I learned about pollen. So I knew it was there.

I moved to Florida where my twins were born and apparently there is no pollen there as I never once heard it discussed. I'll just assume bees use pixie dust or something in lieu of pollenation down there.

When we moved to Atlanta in 2007 it was in the month of April. The first morning we woke up in our new place here, I went to get the kids up and Charlie's eyes were crusted shut and his face was covered in snot.
This was allergies like I'd never seen in my life.

Since then it's been a battle every April, to keep my poor Charlie going, because of this...

Every morning you wake up to such thick pollen covering everything, cars, houses, EVERYTHING, that it literally looks like someone did a crappy spray paint on your car. When I pull out of work to head home every day, the piled up pollen drifts away like snow drifting on a plain.

Last year my Charlie was on 11 different things from medicine to relief/treatment items to help combat this. So far this year we're up to four.

Come on Summer. Charlie needs you to get here.

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Wither Pollen

I grew up in the midwest. And yeah we had pollen. I mean, in THEORY we had pollen. I heard about pollen, I learned about pollen. So I knew it was there.

I moved to Florida where my twins were born and apparently there is no pollen there as I never once heard it discussed. I'll just assume bees use pixie dust or something in lieu of pollenation down there.

When we moved to Atlanta in 2007 it was in the month of April. The first morning we woke up in our new place here, I went to get the kids up and Charlie's eyes were crusted shut and his face was covered in snot.
This was allergies like I'd never seen in my life.

Since then it's been a battle every April, to keep my poor Charlie going, because of this...

Every morning you wake up to such thick pollen covering everything, cars, houses, EVERYTHING, that it literally looks like someone did a crappy spray paint on your car. When I pull out of work to head home every day, the piled up pollen drifts away like snow drifting on a plain.

Last year my Charlie was on 11 different things from medicine to relief/treatment items to help combat this. So far this year we're up to four.

Come on Summer. Charlie needs you to get here.

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6 am is Charlie's hour

When you are one of four children, born third, you have very few hours in the day that are yours alone. Your space has always been occupied by at least the two children that came before you, if not also by the one that came rolling along when you were six.

But my Charlie has the time, Monday thru Friday, from 6:20 am until 7:00 am that is his alone. His with his Mommy, and he doesn't have to share her with anyone.

We spend that time watching Sesame Street, and giggling at Cookie Monster, and giggling harder at Grover. We put on shoes and jackets. Sometimes we share coffee. He sits on my lap, sometimes he hugs and kisses me, sometimes he just sits as close as he can.

But Charlie's favorite mornings are the ones when it's not TOO cold, and he and I go out to the porch to swing and wait for that little bus to come. We swing, and listen to the birds. Sometimes the wind blows too hard and we shiver. Sometimes there are squirrels and once I was certain I saw a coyote dart away.

I watch the trees sway and listen to the wind sing in the fir trees and Charlie laughs and giggles at our morning fun. I note which trees are finally going to bloom and try to sip my coffee as an excited 8 year old keeps hopping on and off the porch swing.

Until 7am, it's just us on the planet. It's a quiet but giggle filled world most days. I am glad we have this, despite how early an annoying it feels sometimes. It's nice once in a while, to just do nothing but observe the world and my Charlie in it.


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6 am is Charlie's hour

When you are one of four children, born third, you have very few hours in the day that are yours alone. Your space has always been occupied by at least the two children that came before you, if not also by the one that came rolling along when you were six.

But my Charlie has the time, Monday thru Friday, from 6:20 am until 7:00 am that is his alone. His with his Mommy, and he doesn't have to share her with anyone.

We spend that time watching Sesame Street, and giggling at Cookie Monster, and giggling harder at Grover. We put on shoes and jackets. Sometimes we share coffee. He sits on my lap, sometimes he hugs and kisses me, sometimes he just sits as close as he can.

But Charlie's favorite mornings are the ones when it's not TOO cold, and he and I go out to the porch to swing and wait for that little bus to come. We swing, and listen to the birds. Sometimes the wind blows too hard and we shiver. Sometimes there are squirrels and once I was certain I saw a coyote dart away.

I watch the trees sway and listen to the wind sing in the fir trees and Charlie laughs and giggles at our morning fun. I note which trees are finally going to bloom and try to sip my coffee as an excited 8 year old keeps hopping on and off the porch swing.

Until 7am, it's just us on the planet. It's a quiet but giggle filled world most days. I am glad we have this, despite how early an annoying it feels sometimes. It's nice once in a while, to just do nothing but observe the world and my Charlie in it.


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Screams In The Night

At 3am Charlie screamed.

This might give a lot of you a shudder, or a wince, because no one likes to hear their children scream. But if you are a parent of severely autistic children, who don't have language, you adjust to the screams. I don't know that you ever get USED to them. But...Charlie screaming isn't the same as the baby screaming. The baby screaming would send me running in terror. Charlie screaming, well, that just makes me wonder what he needs.
I called out "Charlie, Mommy is here. You're ok." Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes he just needs to hear me, or his dad, and he goes back to sleep.

About twenty minutes later he let out another blood curdling shriek.

So I got up and went in, to see if Miles had stolen a blanket, or his pillow, or was laying on him or some other brotherly offense. I walked in and sat on the bottom bunk and said "Charlie are you ok?"

And then a miracle happened.

He spoke. "I want water."

Don't get me wrong, Charlie "can" speak. However, as is the nature of autism, speech isn't all that important to him. But this time, at 3:20 am, when we were both bleary and worn out, he said clear as day "I want water."

"You want a drink?" I started hunting for the sippy cup that they take to bed, and that Miles hoards (Geek points to me I nearly spelled that horde) and found it under Miles pillow.

"I want drink." he said as he took it and took big sips.

"Are you ok now?" I asked him.

"I want tickle."

Imma take that as a yes.

I chose a picture from winter, because it's hot, and I wish it wasn't.
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Screams In The Night

At 3am Charlie screamed.

This might give a lot of you a shudder, or a wince, because no one likes to hear their children scream. But if you are a parent of severely autistic children, who don't have language, you adjust to the screams. I don't know that you ever get USED to them. But...Charlie screaming isn't the same as the baby screaming. The baby screaming would send me running in terror. Charlie screaming, well, that just makes me wonder what he needs.
I called out "Charlie, Mommy is here. You're ok." Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes he just needs to hear me, or his dad, and he goes back to sleep.

About twenty minutes later he let out another blood curdling shriek.

So I got up and went in, to see if Miles had stolen a blanket, or his pillow, or was laying on him or some other brotherly offense. I walked in and sat on the bottom bunk and said "Charlie are you ok?"

And then a miracle happened.

He spoke. "I want water."

Don't get me wrong, Charlie "can" speak. However, as is the nature of autism, speech isn't all that important to him. But this time, at 3:20 am, when we were both bleary and worn out, he said clear as day "I want water."

"You want a drink?" I started hunting for the sippy cup that they take to bed, and that Miles hoards (Geek points to me I nearly spelled that horde) and found it under Miles pillow.

"I want drink." he said as he took it and took big sips.

"Are you ok now?" I asked him.

"I want tickle."

Imma take that as a yes.

I chose a picture from winter, because it's hot, and I wish it wasn't.
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And Then Charlie Was Gone

Following our every morning routine this morning, at 7am two short buses roll down my street. I take the twins, and Charlie goes to swing on the porch swing, and Miles and I put on his back pack and walk down the driveway to meet the first bus.

What happens next is that I go BACK up the driveway and by the time I have Charlie and his backpack, Miles bus is pulled away and Charlie's bus is there.

Except this morning, I turned around....

and the swing was swinging....

without a Charlie on it.

I froze.

I called him. Nothing.

Have I mentioned there are coyotes in our woods now? Have I mentioned it's DARK out when they get on the bus?

I called him again.

He came bounding out from behind the minivan laughing and hooting, he'd tricked me.

Guess who will be waiting in the house now?

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And Then Charlie Was Gone

Following our every morning routine this morning, at 7am two short buses roll down my street. I take the twins, and Charlie goes to swing on the porch swing, and Miles and I put on his back pack and walk down the driveway to meet the first bus.

What happens next is that I go BACK up the driveway and by the time I have Charlie and his backpack, Miles bus is pulled away and Charlie's bus is there.

Except this morning, I turned around....

and the swing was swinging....

without a Charlie on it.

I froze.

I called him. Nothing.

Have I mentioned there are coyotes in our woods now? Have I mentioned it's DARK out when they get on the bus?

I called him again.

He came bounding out from behind the minivan laughing and hooting, he'd tricked me.

Guess who will be waiting in the house now?

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Charlie Told Me To Shut Up

That might not sound as good to you as it does to me. But you see, at the age of seven, Charlie is only just learning to talk. Like your 18 month old or 2 year old might be learning. He's saying words with purpose. It's fairly amazing.

The other night, he was banging something on something else, and I said "Charlie STOP IT!"

And I got the TEENAGE EYE ROLL and with attitude "SHUT UP!"

I had to turn my back to keep from laughing. Yeah, my kid told me to shut up. He also used WORDS correctly. So I'll take it.

Good job, Charlie.

Charlie Told Me To Shut Up

That might not sound as good to you as it does to me. But you see, at the age of seven, Charlie is only just learning to talk. Like your 18 month old or 2 year old might be learning. He's saying words with purpose. It's fairly amazing.

The other night, he was banging something on something else, and I said "Charlie STOP IT!"

And I got the TEENAGE EYE ROLL and with attitude "SHUT UP!"

I had to turn my back to keep from laughing. Yeah, my kid told me to shut up. He also used WORDS correctly. So I'll take it.

Good job, Charlie.

It Started Off Innocently Enough

I had some flowers to plant and then to water. The kids were outside playing with sidewalk chalk on the drive. So when I went to water my new future flowers, the kids wanted to play in the hose.

This seemed like a good enough idea to me.

I spent entire summers with muddy feet playing in hoses and running through sprinklers. Hell we used to DRINK from the hose but now I hear you aren't supposed to do that. I'm not sure why. Historically that was the coldest, best water in the world. I guess now we know more about ground pollution or something.

Regardless, the kids thought it was about the perfect Sunday afternoon, I'm pretty sure.
But there is always something there to remind me that life with special needs kids is just a little bit different from life where everyone falls into the typical range.

For instance, on this perfect day where we had sidewalk chalk and playing in the hose, as I was peeling their soaking clothes off them to send them to the bath, Charlie says to me "My hand."
I was busy with a different child, plus since I turned 40 my close vision isn't what it used to be so I couldn't quite see what he was on about, I just said "ok baby one moment"
At which point he repeated himself - waving him hand in front of me.
I still couldn't see what he was trying to show me, moving object at close range isn't my forte.
"Ok baby give Mommy a sec...."
at which point he stuck his fingers in my mouth - fingers which were covered in poop.

Yeah you heard me.

Poop.

Welcome to my world.

It Started Off Innocently Enough

I had some flowers to plant and then to water. The kids were outside playing with sidewalk chalk on the drive. So when I went to water my new future flowers, the kids wanted to play in the hose.

This seemed like a good enough idea to me.

I spent entire summers with muddy feet playing in hoses and running through sprinklers. Hell we used to DRINK from the hose but now I hear you aren't supposed to do that. I'm not sure why. Historically that was the coldest, best water in the world. I guess now we know more about ground pollution or something.

Regardless, the kids thought it was about the perfect Sunday afternoon, I'm pretty sure.
But there is always something there to remind me that life with special needs kids is just a little bit different from life where everyone falls into the typical range.

For instance, on this perfect day where we had sidewalk chalk and playing in the hose, as I was peeling their soaking clothes off them to send them to the bath, Charlie says to me "My hand."
I was busy with a different child, plus since I turned 40 my close vision isn't what it used to be so I couldn't quite see what he was on about, I just said "ok baby one moment"
At which point he repeated himself - waving him hand in front of me.
I still couldn't see what he was trying to show me, moving object at close range isn't my forte.
"Ok baby give Mommy a sec...."
at which point he stuck his fingers in my mouth - fingers which were covered in poop.

Yeah you heard me.

Poop.

Welcome to my world.

Learning To Talk

Both of my twins have speech assistance machines. Miles doesn't seem to need his so much anymore, or would rather use it to play. But Charlie can use his to express need which is a huge deal.

If you don't know why it's a big deal to express need, picture two six year olds who scream hysterically and thrash around when they want something, versus just asking you for it.

Imagine your six year old like a newborn - where you were just trying everything till you hit the right thing.

That was where we were before they started school.

What a difference.

Some people have expressed interest in what these machines are like, so this is a brief example. Charlie was grumpy so we used the machine to have us tell him what he wants.

Learning To Talk

Both of my twins have speech assistance machines. Miles doesn't seem to need his so much anymore, or would rather use it to play. But Charlie can use his to express need which is a huge deal.

If you don't know why it's a big deal to express need, picture two six year olds who scream hysterically and thrash around when they want something, versus just asking you for it.

Imagine your six year old like a newborn - where you were just trying everything till you hit the right thing.

That was where we were before they started school.

What a difference.

Some people have expressed interest in what these machines are like, so this is a brief example. Charlie was grumpy so we used the machine to have us tell him what he wants.

He Had A Great Day...

What does that mean for a typical child? It means the stars were aligned. They hit the home run, they caught the touchdown pass, they made straight As, they got the big part in the play or they made the honor roll.

It would be the icing on the cake. The topping of a day that already held promise.

For an A-typical child, the day starts out kicking and grabbing at the parent trying to gently pursuade them out of bed at o-dark-hundred. Protests ring out as he is lead into the bedroom to get dressed -

where he promptly bites my breast.

Hard.

Breaking the skin. Through my clothes.

After that it's a struggle to get clothes on him and then we go downstairs where he proceeds to scream and cry and carry on ridiculously about every single thing that occurs until the bus arrives.

He grabs my arms and pinches, he tries to bite his brother, he screams when the Wiggles go off the air.

And when he comes home, his notebook says "He was so happy all day. He had a great day. He followed two part instructions perfectly."

We jokingly call him a shark because he eats everything. I now have a bite radius for the marine biologists to measure, should they arrive.

He followed two part instructions perfectly.

If only one of those had been "Don't bite other people."

Having a special child is unbelievably hard.

Having two, is some days, unbelievable.

He Had A Great Day...

What does that mean for a typical child? It means the stars were aligned. They hit the home run, they caught the touchdown pass, they made straight As, they got the big part in the play or they made the honor roll.

It would be the icing on the cake. The topping of a day that already held promise.

For an A-typical child, the day starts out kicking and grabbing at the parent trying to gently pursuade them out of bed at o-dark-hundred. Protests ring out as he is lead into the bedroom to get dressed -

where he promptly bites my breast.

Hard.

Breaking the skin. Through my clothes.

After that it's a struggle to get clothes on him and then we go downstairs where he proceeds to scream and cry and carry on ridiculously about every single thing that occurs until the bus arrives.

He grabs my arms and pinches, he tries to bite his brother, he screams when the Wiggles go off the air.

And when he comes home, his notebook says "He was so happy all day. He had a great day. He followed two part instructions perfectly."

We jokingly call him a shark because he eats everything. I now have a bite radius for the marine biologists to measure, should they arrive.

He followed two part instructions perfectly.

If only one of those had been "Don't bite other people."

Having a special child is unbelievably hard.

Having two, is some days, unbelievable.