Saturday Part One: Wax and Poop and The Pride Swallowing Siege

I have to divide my day into two parts. Part two was divine. This is not about that part.

I woke up yesterday without much ceremony or issues, changed the twins, toddled about being me. I had a lot of stomach upset however, and without being too graphic - we'll just say it was the House of Tokyo effect and my friends from back in the day will understand completely.

As an adult I'm equipped to emotionally and physically handle such issues with mostly grace although I can admit I had some coffee anyway, knowing full well it would contribute to my situation.

The twins however, did not warn me they didn't feel well. That whole "not communicating" thing is problematic in these areas and they slugged down their share of coffee and right about then the pooping began. And continued. By 10 am I had changed six diapers I would describe as horrific. One was a downright disaster of hazmat proportions. I got them cleaned up and by 1030 am EVERYONE impacted had a healthy dose of immodium to stop the works.

My house, however, smelled like death poop. It smelled like if death had been eating rotten corpses and then had pooped in my living room. I washed my hands repeatedly and still, the house was just ugh, so gross. So I lit my little owl candle melt thingy to bring the wonderful smell of some Middle David smelly good things to life.  I poured my self a cup of coffee and sat down to see what's new with Frank and Claire on House of Cards.

The kids were upstairs doing whatever it is they were doing. Louis was off at a Boy Scout thing, he'd been gone since the day before and my world is always worse without him however I had managed to wrangle the crazy while my husband got some well deserved sleep.

It was quiet. I watched one then two episodes of House of Cards, and I marveled more than once at how the kids hadn't ever come downstairs, it was unlike them. Our stairs creak MADLY however so no one can really sneak anywhere around here.

Diaper issues can be so frustrating. You don't expect to be changing horrible diapers when your kids are 11 but here I am. I'd lie and say I don't resent it but I do fucking resent it a lot. I'm not wired for this whole special needs kid thing. I do, however, love my children. So what that means is that despite the toll it can take on my person many days, I would still do anything for them. These two hours alone with my coffee were resetting me, refocusing me and letting me get my perspective pointed more positively.

That's when Julia came downstairs and said "Ewww, Mom what's in my water cup?"

I wandered into the dining room and looked into her cup, still sitting there since breakfast (I'm lazy, sue me.) I couldn't quite make out what I was seeing in the cup, fleks of something, something....reddish?

That's when my eyes did a cinematographer quality slow sweep into my kitchen where I beheld....WAX.

Wax all over the counter, down the counters, on the stove, on the toaster, on the floor.

FUCKING WAX EVERYWHERE.

My Middle David wax melt with wonderful smell had been gotten into and flicked, smeared and whatever else - all over my kitchen.

This is the pride swallowing siege part of my life. I can't scream. I can't even really punish. I knew who it was before he came down the stairs, covered in wax. It was my Charlie, who loves the smell of these scented wax melts so much he can NEVER resist putting his hands into them, thus they can never be used without total supervision. I thought I had achieved that because they were upstairs and I was downstairs and seriously HOW did he come downstairs, flick WAX everywhere and take drinks of Julia's water - depositing wax and then LEAVE? HOW?

There are about 1000 videos and tips on Pinterest and youtube and the WEB in general on how to remove wax. Most of the involve an iron and I am allergic to my iron. Also, I'm not sure where it is. So after having a serious sobbing cry on my kitchen floor I figured out that the low melting point of this wax makes it pretty easy to get up with scalding hot water, never mind the skin on your hands though.

Autism parenting is just too damn hard some days. This was entirely too much to deal with before noon.

Here is my Jerry Maguire quote that in my opinion sums up Autism parenting on so many days.

It's an up at dawn, pride swallowing siege that I will NEVER fully tell you about. Ok?
Tweet

Saturday Part One: Wax and Poop and The Pride Swallowing Siege

I have to divide my day into two parts. Part two was divine. This is not about that part.

I woke up yesterday without much ceremony or issues, changed the twins, toddled about being me. I had a lot of stomach upset however, and without being too graphic - we'll just say it was the House of Tokyo effect and my friends from back in the day will understand completely.

As an adult I'm equipped to emotionally and physically handle such issues with mostly grace although I can admit I had some coffee anyway, knowing full well it would contribute to my situation.

The twins however, did not warn me they didn't feel well. That whole "not communicating" thing is problematic in these areas and they slugged down their share of coffee and right about then the pooping began. And continued. By 10 am I had changed six diapers I would describe as horrific. One was a downright disaster of hazmat proportions. I got them cleaned up and by 1030 am EVERYONE impacted had a healthy dose of immodium to stop the works.

My house, however, smelled like death poop. It smelled like if death had been eating rotten corpses and then had pooped in my living room. I washed my hands repeatedly and still, the house was just ugh, so gross. So I lit my little owl candle melt thingy to bring the wonderful smell of some Middle David smelly good things to life.  I poured my self a cup of coffee and sat down to see what's new with Frank and Claire on House of Cards.

The kids were upstairs doing whatever it is they were doing. Louis was off at a Boy Scout thing, he'd been gone since the day before and my world is always worse without him however I had managed to wrangle the crazy while my husband got some well deserved sleep.

It was quiet. I watched one then two episodes of House of Cards, and I marveled more than once at how the kids hadn't ever come downstairs, it was unlike them. Our stairs creak MADLY however so no one can really sneak anywhere around here.

Diaper issues can be so frustrating. You don't expect to be changing horrible diapers when your kids are 11 but here I am. I'd lie and say I don't resent it but I do fucking resent it a lot. I'm not wired for this whole special needs kid thing. I do, however, love my children. So what that means is that despite the toll it can take on my person many days, I would still do anything for them. These two hours alone with my coffee were resetting me, refocusing me and letting me get my perspective pointed more positively.

That's when Julia came downstairs and said "Ewww, Mom what's in my water cup?"

I wandered into the dining room and looked into her cup, still sitting there since breakfast (I'm lazy, sue me.) I couldn't quite make out what I was seeing in the cup, fleks of something, something....reddish?

That's when my eyes did a cinematographer quality slow sweep into my kitchen where I beheld....WAX.

Wax all over the counter, down the counters, on the stove, on the toaster, on the floor.

FUCKING WAX EVERYWHERE.

My Middle David wax melt with wonderful smell had been gotten into and flicked, smeared and whatever else - all over my kitchen.

This is the pride swallowing siege part of my life. I can't scream. I can't even really punish. I knew who it was before he came down the stairs, covered in wax. It was my Charlie, who loves the smell of these scented wax melts so much he can NEVER resist putting his hands into them, thus they can never be used without total supervision. I thought I had achieved that because they were upstairs and I was downstairs and seriously HOW did he come downstairs, flick WAX everywhere and take drinks of Julia's water - depositing wax and then LEAVE? HOW?

There are about 1000 videos and tips on Pinterest and youtube and the WEB in general on how to remove wax. Most of the involve an iron and I am allergic to my iron. Also, I'm not sure where it is. So after having a serious sobbing cry on my kitchen floor I figured out that the low melting point of this wax makes it pretty easy to get up with scalding hot water, never mind the skin on your hands though.

Autism parenting is just too damn hard some days. This was entirely too much to deal with before noon.

Here is my Jerry Maguire quote that in my opinion sums up Autism parenting on so many days.

It's an up at dawn, pride swallowing siege that I will NEVER fully tell you about. Ok?
Tweet

Will They Be Autistic When They Grow Up

Julia and Miles can be the best of friends when the stars are aligned. He still calls her "Baby" and likes to hug her. He likes to do the things Kindergartners like to do very often, however, so that makes them very likely playmates. 

Sunday the toll of our family activity being nil because mom has been so sick was mounting so I gave in to pretty much every activity suggestion from the smallest one. Painting? Sure. PlayDoh? Sure. And with everything she wanted to do, there was Miles right with her. In fact the only upset he really experienced was when I finally had to put the PlayDoh barbershop away because tiny pieces of gross faux clay were just going EVERYWHERE and my prednisone fueled stress wasn't having it any more.

They played in her room, they played chase, in fact the best part is really just that they PLAYED. There's something so comforting about watching your special little guy do something NORMAL like playing, if you don't have that gap in your life I can't explain it to you.

At the end of our day while we were settling in for some evening family TV, Miles and Julia snuggled up together on the love seat, wrapping in each others arms like the best of friends. Julia looked at me and asked, "Mom, will Miles and Charlie still be autistic when they grow up?" At that point a Road Runner dropped an anvil on my head and I was struck dumb. I didn't know if I was going to cry, or cry, or cry. My husband walked into the room and carried the ball, and told her well they might be but you never know what science will learn that might help them etc etc etc.

You could tell though, it hadn't occurred to her that this is a permanent situation. She snuggled Miles up and just said OK, accepting the news far better than we ever did. I guess children have more bandwidth for accepting some things. 

She also made a PlayDoh person with boobs that she asked me to show everyone.

So, now I've done that.

But yes my sweet little girl, they'll always be autistic. This might be it. We don't know. But I'm trying to be hopeful that maybe there will be something in our future that makes their lives easier and better, and ours. I don't know what that thing is yet, but I'm counting on science to bring it to me. And if it doesn't? Well that's ok too. I've got no issues with a 40 year old playing PlayDoh barbershop if that's the future. The dining room carpet doesn't mean that much to me anyway.

Will They Be Autistic When They Grow Up

Julia and Miles can be the best of friends when the stars are aligned. He still calls her "Baby" and likes to hug her. He likes to do the things Kindergartners like to do very often, however, so that makes them very likely playmates. 

Sunday the toll of our family activity being nil because mom has been so sick was mounting so I gave in to pretty much every activity suggestion from the smallest one. Painting? Sure. PlayDoh? Sure. And with everything she wanted to do, there was Miles right with her. In fact the only upset he really experienced was when I finally had to put the PlayDoh barbershop away because tiny pieces of gross faux clay were just going EVERYWHERE and my prednisone fueled stress wasn't having it any more.

They played in her room, they played chase, in fact the best part is really just that they PLAYED. There's something so comforting about watching your special little guy do something NORMAL like playing, if you don't have that gap in your life I can't explain it to you.

At the end of our day while we were settling in for some evening family TV, Miles and Julia snuggled up together on the love seat, wrapping in each others arms like the best of friends. Julia looked at me and asked, "Mom, will Miles and Charlie still be autistic when they grow up?" At that point a Road Runner dropped an anvil on my head and I was struck dumb. I didn't know if I was going to cry, or cry, or cry. My husband walked into the room and carried the ball, and told her well they might be but you never know what science will learn that might help them etc etc etc.

You could tell though, it hadn't occurred to her that this is a permanent situation. She snuggled Miles up and just said OK, accepting the news far better than we ever did. I guess children have more bandwidth for accepting some things. 

She also made a PlayDoh person with boobs that she asked me to show everyone.

So, now I've done that.

But yes my sweet little girl, they'll always be autistic. This might be it. We don't know. But I'm trying to be hopeful that maybe there will be something in our future that makes their lives easier and better, and ours. I don't know what that thing is yet, but I'm counting on science to bring it to me. And if it doesn't? Well that's ok too. I've got no issues with a 40 year old playing PlayDoh barbershop if that's the future. The dining room carpet doesn't mean that much to me anyway.

Dear Steve Harvey, I Do Not Accept Your Apology

I rarely watch ranty or emotional videos on Facebook. Usually they're trite, or annoying, or frankly I just don't have time. My life can be stressful enough without adding other people's emotional baggage to it.
However today, one scrolling past my feed caught my attention. Steve Harvey making fun of a special needs child via a character on his show was the subject. An angry mother of an autistic child could not contain her rage, or frankly her sorrow, that a developmentally delayed child was the source of some hardeeharharhar humor.

This is her video. Watch it. Watch it and hear her.

Now hear me.

There's a lot that goes into an Autism mom and frankly I don't ever let anyone inside because there are parts of this life that are hell. They are physical hell. They are emotional hell. You don't know our hell. And you know what else? Mocking a special needs person OF ANY SORT is base and common. It's pathetic. Why would you do that? Laugh and joke about someone who is disabled, someone who is innocent and helpless against your bullying?

My day is full of moments I don't share. I met one of my sons teacher and he discussed with me the "functional" skills he'd be working on and that we'd be making a plan for some independence for the rest of his life. Except, the sort of independence he'll have will possibly be potty training, possibly being able to fasten his own pants. If we could teach him to open his own yogurt, that too might be nice. Is that funny? He moans. He was just screaming hysterically down the hall from me for some autism reason I can't define. Oh my gosh that IS funny isn't it? Well it's not amen for sure.

Or is it, you ass? HOW DO YOU KNOW? Your God doesn't speak the language of the autistic is that it?

Sometimes driving home I burst into tears. Why? Because I worry about dying. I don't worry about me, of course I'm going to die, everyone is. But what is going to happen to these babies when I die? Who will make sure they are safe? Who will protect them? I know all the things they need, I know what the mean.

I understand their moans.

I read them Goodnight Moon as our last story every night and I wonder if I will still be reading it when they are 30. I think I will. Sometimes my voice catches and my oldest son will hug me and promise to read to them when I can't.

I think of the burden that they will be to either my oldest or my youngest. Yet they are their brothers and they love them. At least I have them.

This life is hard. The fact that the idea of someone taking their special needs child to CHURCH of all place is a comedy piece is mindboggling to me. Isn't everyone supposed to be welcome at church? EVERYONE? Are you even FAMILIAR with Jesus? He said some really nice things. MOST OF THEM WERE ABOUT LOVING ONE ANOTHER.

This is just a ridiculous apology as well. This is not an apology. This is like saying "I'm sorry you are offended." If this was about RACE there would be no question, but the idea that because it's about someone disabled that "oh we need to lighten up" is absolutely offensive.

I AM ON A RANT.

Two of my Children are mentally disabled because of autism and apparently they are a comedy routine if I take them to church. Thanks Steve Harvey, you've given me one more reason never to take them. Well done. You're a bully and should be ashamed.

Dear Steve Harvey, I Do Not Accept Your Apology

I rarely watch ranty or emotional videos on Facebook. Usually they're trite, or annoying, or frankly I just don't have time. My life can be stressful enough without adding other people's emotional baggage to it.
However today, one scrolling past my feed caught my attention. Steve Harvey making fun of a special needs child via a character on his show was the subject. An angry mother of an autistic child could not contain her rage, or frankly her sorrow, that a developmentally delayed child was the source of some hardeeharharhar humor.

This is her video. Watch it. Watch it and hear her.

Now hear me.

There's a lot that goes into an Autism mom and frankly I don't ever let anyone inside because there are parts of this life that are hell. They are physical hell. They are emotional hell. You don't know our hell. And you know what else? Mocking a special needs person OF ANY SORT is base and common. It's pathetic. Why would you do that? Laugh and joke about someone who is disabled, someone who is innocent and helpless against your bullying?

My day is full of moments I don't share. I met one of my sons teacher and he discussed with me the "functional" skills he'd be working on and that we'd be making a plan for some independence for the rest of his life. Except, the sort of independence he'll have will possibly be potty training, possibly being able to fasten his own pants. If we could teach him to open his own yogurt, that too might be nice. Is that funny? He moans. He was just screaming hysterically down the hall from me for some autism reason I can't define. Oh my gosh that IS funny isn't it? Well it's not amen for sure.

Or is it, you ass? HOW DO YOU KNOW? Your God doesn't speak the language of the autistic is that it?

Sometimes driving home I burst into tears. Why? Because I worry about dying. I don't worry about me, of course I'm going to die, everyone is. But what is going to happen to these babies when I die? Who will make sure they are safe? Who will protect them? I know all the things they need, I know what the mean.

I understand their moans.

I read them Goodnight Moon as our last story every night and I wonder if I will still be reading it when they are 30. I think I will. Sometimes my voice catches and my oldest son will hug me and promise to read to them when I can't.

I think of the burden that they will be to either my oldest or my youngest. Yet they are their brothers and they love them. At least I have them.

This life is hard. The fact that the idea of someone taking their special needs child to CHURCH of all place is a comedy piece is mindboggling to me. Isn't everyone supposed to be welcome at church? EVERYONE? Are you even FAMILIAR with Jesus? He said some really nice things. MOST OF THEM WERE ABOUT LOVING ONE ANOTHER.

This is just a ridiculous apology as well. This is not an apology. This is like saying "I'm sorry you are offended." If this was about RACE there would be no question, but the idea that because it's about someone disabled that "oh we need to lighten up" is absolutely offensive.

I AM ON A RANT.

Two of my Children are mentally disabled because of autism and apparently they are a comedy routine if I take them to church. Thanks Steve Harvey, you've given me one more reason never to take them. Well done. You're a bully and should be ashamed.

Ten Questions I WANT You To Ask About Autism

It's taken me five years but I've come to the realization that I want you to ask me questions about Autism.

I want your inane, ill informed, insensitive and bizarre questions. BRING THEM ON. It's because, honestly, there is so much bad information out there, so much damned misunderstanding thanks to the media and the RAIN MAN and anything else you can think of, that I've decided I want to answer all of the questions. I'll tell you the truth. You might not like the truth, but unlike Jack Nicholson, I think you can handle it.

Some questions you should ask, if you don't know the answer:

1. So how'd they get Autism? I don't really know. No one does. More and more it seems like it might be genetic but again, no one really knows.
2. How long will they be like that? Forever. Or not. Again, no one knows.
3. So how do they fix that? They don't. They don't fix it. They try to help us and them learn to work around it and work through it, but there's no fixing Autism, no matter what Jenny McCarthy says.
4. I heard Jenny McCarthy say..... is that true?: To anything with her name on it, no she's an idiot. Even if she happened to be right, no she's an idiot.
5. Do ya'll go to church and pray over it a lot? No. Next question.
6. Why don't they know what causes it? It's probably because it's not just one thing, or because it doesn't act the same way person to person. It's similar, but not the same in each person. That's why it's referred to as a spectrum.
7. Do you all do those special diets to cure it? No. Special diets don't cure Autism. What they can do is alleviate secondary side allergies, food sensitivities that go along WITH Autism. However, it also seems that these food allergies and sensitivities might be more common in the regular population than we realize and we simply have the luxury of communicating about it. Autistic children just eat what they are fed, if they like it, whether or not they should.
8. Why are they both autistic? My guess? Genetics. But could've been something that happened in-utero, something poison and toxic to them I ate, or drank. No one knows. 
9. How do you do it? I could never deal with that. Of course you could. They hand you babies after hours of labor. You love them instantly and completely. That doesn't stop when you find out they aren't "right". That doesn't stop through the years before diagnosis that you have that nagging feeling something is off and you don't know what. 
10. Did you see this show/that show/the other show about person XYZ with Autism? The answer to this will almost always be no. And it's not that I don't appreciate you sharing with me, it's that Autism isn't something I want to watch shows about or movies about. I can't escape it, not at work, not when I travel, not when I'm at lunch alone - it's on my mind, if not being actively influential in everything in my world. It's 7:17 am and there is a 9 year old Autistic boy behind me singing 1-20, over and over and over. It's been going on since 6:50. So, no, I don't watch shows about it. If I am watching a show I want to be entertained or educated. I'm already educated as hell on Autism.

These are a short list of the few questions I've been asked recently. Everyone knows someone with an autistic kid. Everyone. 

That should bother you. Does everyone know someone with a Down's Syndrome kid? Nope. One in 88 children are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 12 out of 10,000 are born with Down's Syndrome. 

One in 88.

So please ask your questions. Ask them all. LEARN about it. Understand it. Because the only thing I can be pretty sure of, is that it's going to effect you in some way, you or someone you love. Do the math.

Tweet

Ten Questions I WANT You To Ask About Autism

It's taken me five years but I've come to the realization that I want you to ask me questions about Autism.

I want your inane, ill informed, insensitive and bizarre questions. BRING THEM ON. It's because, honestly, there is so much bad information out there, so much damned misunderstanding thanks to the media and the RAIN MAN and anything else you can think of, that I've decided I want to answer all of the questions. I'll tell you the truth. You might not like the truth, but unlike Jack Nicholson, I think you can handle it.

Some questions you should ask, if you don't know the answer:

1. So how'd they get Autism? I don't really know. No one does. More and more it seems like it might be genetic but again, no one really knows.
2. How long will they be like that? Forever. Or not. Again, no one knows.
3. So how do they fix that? They don't. They don't fix it. They try to help us and them learn to work around it and work through it, but there's no fixing Autism, no matter what Jenny McCarthy says.
4. I heard Jenny McCarthy say..... is that true?: To anything with her name on it, no she's an idiot. Even if she happened to be right, no she's an idiot.
5. Do ya'll go to church and pray over it a lot? No. Next question.
6. Why don't they know what causes it? It's probably because it's not just one thing, or because it doesn't act the same way person to person. It's similar, but not the same in each person. That's why it's referred to as a spectrum.
7. Do you all do those special diets to cure it? No. Special diets don't cure Autism. What they can do is alleviate secondary side allergies, food sensitivities that go along WITH Autism. However, it also seems that these food allergies and sensitivities might be more common in the regular population than we realize and we simply have the luxury of communicating about it. Autistic children just eat what they are fed, if they like it, whether or not they should.
8. Why are they both autistic? My guess? Genetics. But could've been something that happened in-utero, something poison and toxic to them I ate, or drank. No one knows. 
9. How do you do it? I could never deal with that. Of course you could. They hand you babies after hours of labor. You love them instantly and completely. That doesn't stop when you find out they aren't "right". That doesn't stop through the years before diagnosis that you have that nagging feeling something is off and you don't know what. 
10. Did you see this show/that show/the other show about person XYZ with Autism? The answer to this will almost always be no. And it's not that I don't appreciate you sharing with me, it's that Autism isn't something I want to watch shows about or movies about. I can't escape it, not at work, not when I travel, not when I'm at lunch alone - it's on my mind, if not being actively influential in everything in my world. It's 7:17 am and there is a 9 year old Autistic boy behind me singing 1-20, over and over and over. It's been going on since 6:50. So, no, I don't watch shows about it. If I am watching a show I want to be entertained or educated. I'm already educated as hell on Autism.

These are a short list of the few questions I've been asked recently. Everyone knows someone with an autistic kid. Everyone. 

That should bother you. Does everyone know someone with a Down's Syndrome kid? Nope. One in 88 children are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 12 out of 10,000 are born with Down's Syndrome. 

One in 88.

So please ask your questions. Ask them all. LEARN about it. Understand it. Because the only thing I can be pretty sure of, is that it's going to effect you in some way, you or someone you love. Do the math.

Tweet

Autism for Breakfast

I know, two in one day, I'm on a roll. But I shot a little video I wanted to share.

Mornings around here are completely unpredictable. The boys who wake me up sobbing and screaming for food, will often act like I've offered them a cat turd when I suggest that we eat.

Sometimes it's worse than that.

This morning, I give a B because the moment I walked away, they did come to the table to eat. But this is pretty par for the course at my house, I prepare breakfast and invite them to come sit down.

Then, this happens.

That's actually very little resistance.

There are even some words thrown into those tantrums if you listen. Well placed rational words.

Autism is so annoying.


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Autism for Breakfast

I know, two in one day, I'm on a roll. But I shot a little video I wanted to share.

Mornings around here are completely unpredictable. The boys who wake me up sobbing and screaming for food, will often act like I've offered them a cat turd when I suggest that we eat.

Sometimes it's worse than that.

This morning, I give a B because the moment I walked away, they did come to the table to eat. But this is pretty par for the course at my house, I prepare breakfast and invite them to come sit down.

Then, this happens.

That's actually very little resistance.

There are even some words thrown into those tantrums if you listen. Well placed rational words.

Autism is so annoying.


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The Special Olympics

I had two athletes in the Special Olympics this year, and that was enough reason to take the time off of work, and to take the oldest boy out of school. When your children are Special Needs, there aren't Holiday Plays (nee Christmas Plays) and school functions that it really works well to be a part of, or are even included in. We try to go to things, or we used to, but as time passes I guess even we give up a little at going mainstream.

It was hot, too hot for special little guys who have trouble waiting and understanding concepts like patience. I actually kinda think that next year we should volunteer to split up and help out the individual classes, the kids get so bored and frustrated waiting.

Miles teacher was able to take the moderate kids over to the play area though, and that was a great distraction.

Eventually our heats came up. If you don't know how it works, they divide the athletes into groups and you go in your little groups through the various activities.

My Charlie is in the severe autism class. It has a level number - level 1? I forget. But his group only did the race because it was a really long wait, and everyone was super cranky. Plus Charlie was scared when the race started by all the noise. That's my sweet Charlie covering his ears and screaming.

But before you think his day was all bad, let me assure you it wasn't. After all - he got to see one of his old teachers and despite being upset during the race he left it behind him (rare for my little guy on the Spectrum, being upset doesn't always fade so fast).

That's his teacher in the white shirt behind him. Laura - she's TOTALLY FRAU REISINGER. That's all I'm saying. Inside joke, sorry.

At the end there are awards and everyone gets to be celebrated. Even little boys who don't want to go down the track.

Miles did much better, he got to play all the games and won more than one ribbon which his interest was mediocre at best.

He even won a second place ribbon for something but I have no idea what. Long jump? Good grief I'm a terrible parent I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter, I did see him win it after all. Obviously the pic below isn't second place.

That's a lot of pictures for one day out. But, my oldest and youngest do a lot of things. I plaster my FB and my plurk and instagram with images of them, doing this doing that going here going there. Along for the ride always, are Miles and Charlie. Today was one of those rare days, that they brought us along with them. 

We were all glad to come.

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The Special Olympics

I had two athletes in the Special Olympics this year, and that was enough reason to take the time off of work, and to take the oldest boy out of school. When your children are Special Needs, there aren't Holiday Plays (nee Christmas Plays) and school functions that it really works well to be a part of, or are even included in. We try to go to things, or we used to, but as time passes I guess even we give up a little at going mainstream.

It was hot, too hot for special little guys who have trouble waiting and understanding concepts like patience. I actually kinda think that next year we should volunteer to split up and help out the individual classes, the kids get so bored and frustrated waiting.

Miles teacher was able to take the moderate kids over to the play area though, and that was a great distraction.

Eventually our heats came up. If you don't know how it works, they divide the athletes into groups and you go in your little groups through the various activities.

My Charlie is in the severe autism class. It has a level number - level 1? I forget. But his group only did the race because it was a really long wait, and everyone was super cranky. Plus Charlie was scared when the race started by all the noise. That's my sweet Charlie covering his ears and screaming.

But before you think his day was all bad, let me assure you it wasn't. After all - he got to see one of his old teachers and despite being upset during the race he left it behind him (rare for my little guy on the Spectrum, being upset doesn't always fade so fast).

That's his teacher in the white shirt behind him. Laura - she's TOTALLY FRAU REISINGER. That's all I'm saying. Inside joke, sorry.

At the end there are awards and everyone gets to be celebrated. Even little boys who don't want to go down the track.

Miles did much better, he got to play all the games and won more than one ribbon which his interest was mediocre at best.

He even won a second place ribbon for something but I have no idea what. Long jump? Good grief I'm a terrible parent I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter, I did see him win it after all. Obviously the pic below isn't second place.

That's a lot of pictures for one day out. But, my oldest and youngest do a lot of things. I plaster my FB and my plurk and instagram with images of them, doing this doing that going here going there. Along for the ride always, are Miles and Charlie. Today was one of those rare days, that they brought us along with them. 

We were all glad to come.

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He Has Christmas Wishes

Something amazing happened a couple of days ago and I'm still reeling from it. I'm not sure you other parents can fathom this but I have never known really what my twins want for Christmas. I have a general idea of things they "like" but, you never really know.
Your neuro typical children get dreamy eyed and try to tell you all the reasons they want this or that or the other thing. But, my sweet twins open what they are given and often just wait for something else to open. Opening is fun on Christmas but usually only one or two things catches their eye.

And I've never had a Christmas list, or been able to have that "So tell Mommy what you want for Christmas" talk with them.

Until NOW.

He is getting every damn thing on this list by God.

We already have the PlayStation. I am guessing he wants to play. So I told my oldest son we're going to teach him how to play.

I sat and cried and cried when I saw this. He has a Christmas list. For the first time in his life.

I think it's amazing.
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He Has Christmas Wishes

Something amazing happened a couple of days ago and I'm still reeling from it. I'm not sure you other parents can fathom this but I have never known really what my twins want for Christmas. I have a general idea of things they "like" but, you never really know.
Your neuro typical children get dreamy eyed and try to tell you all the reasons they want this or that or the other thing. But, my sweet twins open what they are given and often just wait for something else to open. Opening is fun on Christmas but usually only one or two things catches their eye.

And I've never had a Christmas list, or been able to have that "So tell Mommy what you want for Christmas" talk with them.

Until NOW.

He is getting every damn thing on this list by God.

We already have the PlayStation. I am guessing he wants to play. So I told my oldest son we're going to teach him how to play.

I sat and cried and cried when I saw this. He has a Christmas list. For the first time in his life.

I think it's amazing.
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Saying No to Autism

You're laying in bed, snuggled under the blankets. You're sound asleep and as comfortable as can be. Suddenly the night is pierced by a blood curdling scream. A child, in the next room, is screaming and shrieking.
You might leap to your feet, visions of intruders or wild animals mauling your child in your head. You might rush to your child's bed ready to do battle or whatever is required because no human child would make such a sound unless being tortured.
Unless of course, your child is severely autistic.
In that case, you might open your eyes and listen for a moment. Much like the cries of a baby, screams and shrieks have their own language, their own meaning. They can mean "I need a diaper" or "I don't want to be in bed anymore" or "I really like the way this screaming sounds." Often it's the latter.
That's how the past three mornings have started for me. Screaming and shrieking from the other room.
Autism isn't rational. Applying reason to it isn't a relevant prospect, you'll lose and end up in tears yourself.
On Saturday, the day the screaming STARTED up in such earnest, I decided we weren't doing this.

So we had a good day. I insisted we have a good day.

We baked cookies and made hot chocolate, and we focused on CHRISTMAS.

There was still a lot of screaming. But for the non-autistic people in the house, there is something therapeutic about saying "OK now if you're done screaming, let's make cookies." "OK who wants to help me make eggnog pancakes? You can't help if you are throwing a fit." "Stop eating your hair and we'll play tea party."

I know that's probably weird, but autism wants to control my life. In many ways, ways I can't really even articulate, it dictates a lot of the direction of it.

But autism is just the wind blowing a storm at us. We captain the ship, and WE can trim our sails and make some progress. Maybe not always the way we want - but a good captain knows some progress is always a victory.

Right now, I have a little boy hanging on my left arm giggling too loudly and pressing too hard. He's very sweet. He's happy and stealing drinks of my coffee. The boy who screams has left for the day, and this boy who STARTED out screaming earlier has stopped. this post has taken me a lot longer to write, as my left arm gets wiggled around.

But I'm still writing it.

That's sort of my mood this morning. Autism slows me down, it makes life harder. But it doesn't STOP me.

Our life will never be normal.  But it will be ours.

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Saying No to Autism

You're laying in bed, snuggled under the blankets. You're sound asleep and as comfortable as can be. Suddenly the night is pierced by a blood curdling scream. A child, in the next room, is screaming and shrieking.
You might leap to your feet, visions of intruders or wild animals mauling your child in your head. You might rush to your child's bed ready to do battle or whatever is required because no human child would make such a sound unless being tortured.
Unless of course, your child is severely autistic.
In that case, you might open your eyes and listen for a moment. Much like the cries of a baby, screams and shrieks have their own language, their own meaning. They can mean "I need a diaper" or "I don't want to be in bed anymore" or "I really like the way this screaming sounds." Often it's the latter.
That's how the past three mornings have started for me. Screaming and shrieking from the other room.
Autism isn't rational. Applying reason to it isn't a relevant prospect, you'll lose and end up in tears yourself.
On Saturday, the day the screaming STARTED up in such earnest, I decided we weren't doing this.

So we had a good day. I insisted we have a good day.

We baked cookies and made hot chocolate, and we focused on CHRISTMAS.

There was still a lot of screaming. But for the non-autistic people in the house, there is something therapeutic about saying "OK now if you're done screaming, let's make cookies." "OK who wants to help me make eggnog pancakes? You can't help if you are throwing a fit." "Stop eating your hair and we'll play tea party."

I know that's probably weird, but autism wants to control my life. In many ways, ways I can't really even articulate, it dictates a lot of the direction of it.

But autism is just the wind blowing a storm at us. We captain the ship, and WE can trim our sails and make some progress. Maybe not always the way we want - but a good captain knows some progress is always a victory.

Right now, I have a little boy hanging on my left arm giggling too loudly and pressing too hard. He's very sweet. He's happy and stealing drinks of my coffee. The boy who screams has left for the day, and this boy who STARTED out screaming earlier has stopped. this post has taken me a lot longer to write, as my left arm gets wiggled around.

But I'm still writing it.

That's sort of my mood this morning. Autism slows me down, it makes life harder. But it doesn't STOP me.

Our life will never be normal.  But it will be ours.

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Winging It

Any parent of an autistic child will tell you that there are 1000 experts out there on Autism and not one of them knows anything about OUR children. They are all as different as they are the same, and nothing ever reminds me of that as when I'm trying to figure out how to deal with an Autism fit.

You see, there isn't a formla, or a discipline strategy you can use for a real Austism trantrum. For your typical children, you can spank or do time outs, or send them a strongly worded email if that's how you roll. With autistic children, there is no conversation that is going to alter what is going on. Words are meaningless.

Think about that. Words are empty and powerless to change these situations. You have a kid, going crazy, or reasons known or unknown, and nothing you can say can calm this child or make them see reason.

Good times, right?

This morning, we faced the battle of the sippy cup. The girl child likes chocolate milk in the morning. Five days a week it's no issue as we're all gone by the time she and Daddy have chocolate milk. But, on the weekends it's a never ending battle over WHICH CUP WHO GETS.

This morning it was epic. We have a plain white cup with a blue lid, and a cup with faded Toy Story print and an orange lid. Truth, be told, BOTH cups had Toy Story prints I believe, one just faded all the way off. Both Julia and Miles want the orange cup. Julia is two. Miles is 8 but basically also 2.

And so, while Julia will cry and sulk, Miles will flip out. So - Miles gets the orange cup.

Except this morning while my back was turned, Julia ran over, took his cup and handed him hers and RAN.

And it was ON. Sobbing, hysterical screaming even though his cup was restored and all was well.

This is when you have to get creative. Because, you can try extinction - ignoring the tantrum. But I find that doesn't work so well. So as he's hitting his leg and screaming and raving, Britney Spears comes on the radio. And inspiration strikes.

I pick him up and start singing loudly spinning him around "My loneliness, is killing me BAAAAABAAAAAY," and I notice him smiling. " I must confess, I still BELIEEEEEVE STILL BELIEVE!"

I spin him around and dip him "When I'm not with you, I LOOOOOSE MY MIIIIND GIVE ME A SIIIIIIIGN...."

Why do I know this song?

No idea.
But it's working.

Every day we make it up as we go. I'd like to say it's easy but GOD it's not.

And now, I hear a tantrum going....so....I'm off.
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Winging It

Any parent of an autistic child will tell you that there are 1000 experts out there on Autism and not one of them knows anything about OUR children. They are all as different as they are the same, and nothing ever reminds me of that as when I'm trying to figure out how to deal with an Autism fit.

You see, there isn't a formla, or a discipline strategy you can use for a real Austism trantrum. For your typical children, you can spank or do time outs, or send them a strongly worded email if that's how you roll. With autistic children, there is no conversation that is going to alter what is going on. Words are meaningless.

Think about that. Words are empty and powerless to change these situations. You have a kid, going crazy, or reasons known or unknown, and nothing you can say can calm this child or make them see reason.

Good times, right?

This morning, we faced the battle of the sippy cup. The girl child likes chocolate milk in the morning. Five days a week it's no issue as we're all gone by the time she and Daddy have chocolate milk. But, on the weekends it's a never ending battle over WHICH CUP WHO GETS.

This morning it was epic. We have a plain white cup with a blue lid, and a cup with faded Toy Story print and an orange lid. Truth, be told, BOTH cups had Toy Story prints I believe, one just faded all the way off. Both Julia and Miles want the orange cup. Julia is two. Miles is 8 but basically also 2.

And so, while Julia will cry and sulk, Miles will flip out. So - Miles gets the orange cup.

Except this morning while my back was turned, Julia ran over, took his cup and handed him hers and RAN.

And it was ON. Sobbing, hysterical screaming even though his cup was restored and all was well.

This is when you have to get creative. Because, you can try extinction - ignoring the tantrum. But I find that doesn't work so well. So as he's hitting his leg and screaming and raving, Britney Spears comes on the radio. And inspiration strikes.

I pick him up and start singing loudly spinning him around "My loneliness, is killing me BAAAAABAAAAAY," and I notice him smiling. " I must confess, I still BELIEEEEEVE STILL BELIEVE!"

I spin him around and dip him "When I'm not with you, I LOOOOOSE MY MIIIIND GIVE ME A SIIIIIIIGN...."

Why do I know this song?

No idea.
But it's working.

Every day we make it up as we go. I'd like to say it's easy but GOD it's not.

And now, I hear a tantrum going....so....I'm off.
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I Resent My Kid

You probably  know that our twins have autism. What you probably don't know, what most people don't know,it isn't what you think of from TV. It's not awkward people who speak brokenly and converse little or poorly. It's nothing like that.
Autism is not one thing. When you have strep throat, you have a specific bacteria and they can see it and medical science goes "Oh HAI Streptococcus here have some penicillin - BEGONE!." Sort of like that.

But, if you have autism, it's more of "Hmmm something is wrong, lets make a list of the things that aren't right and if enough of them fall into THIS sort of category, we'll call it Autism." That's why it's a spectrum - it's a sick rainbow of verbal and mental disability. The kind you don't want any part of.

At our house we dabble in a variety of severe autism that could certainly be worse but also is bad enough that we get fierce envy of those with moderate autism or even Aspergers. It causes stress and strife in ways I pretty much leave off this blog but it's making the headlines today because I'm cranky and feeling more than a bit selfish.

My sweet Miles, my boy who cuddles and kisses and says I love also has other problems. First of all, he has a form of separation anxiety when it comes to me that basically means he is with me, a few feet away, at all time when he is at home. He throws tantrums of both the bratty and the autistic kind. The most frustrating thing about Miles, until recently, is that he CAN speak. He can SAY anything. He can read and write and he can do math. At school. At home he's nearly nonverbal other than the nonstop echolalia (that's where the repeat stuff randomly, nonstop in our case).

We've started to have trouble though. Tantrums, spitting at people at school over the past few months. Screaming, raving, hitting, the sort of tantrums we don't get at home. Now in the mornings on the bus, he is screaming his hitting and kicking and spitting to the point that it's going to be a problem. It'll be our second go round with spitting on the bus. Last time they started talking "spit guard" but then, the bus driver and the administration had a go round and we got a new bus driver and started from zero.

But now it's looming. I feel it pressing down on me, and so does the husband. It's like when we're in public and one or both of them is "acting autistic" but people are looking at us like we're crazy. You know, because they "look normal" but don't "act normal".

Here we are.

My first reaction was, I don't care how much he screams and kicks and yells. I have THREE KIDS TO GET TO SCHOOL PLUS MYSELF TO WORK OMG I CANNOT DRIVE HIM TO SCHOOL.

My life, to a lesser degree than my husbands, is dictated to me by autism. My sleep last night for example, interrupted until about 2am by crying or screaming boys, is never guaranteed. My free time, ditto. I'm typing as fast as I can right now because disaster looms around every corner.

The twins are BEHIND me right now.  I can't see them. They could be doing ANYTHING.

My only pure moments of alone, Gidge time, exist in my bed when I am asleep (see above Miles goes into the bathroom with me always), and about 45 minutes every morning. Every morning after the twins get on the bus, I get the oldest boy out of bed and serve him breakfast and escape to this computer with a cup of coffee.

I talk to my people inside the shiny box. I do stuff that makes me happy. I shut off my brain and I escape. Into stupid hobbies and conversations and, it's wonderful. Then my time is up and I hop up and run off into the world.

But as I lay in their bed between them with one of them sobbing for no apparent reason and the other one singing ABCs, it just sort of washed over me that I was going to have to. Selfishness isn't an option when you are a parent. It's a luxury when you get to indulge in it. But, my child is terrorizing the other children on that bus by his behavior. How would I feel if MY special little boy was being terrorized by the bad child on the bus? I'd be pretty upset.

I want to protect his dignity, I don't want a spit guard he's not Hannibal Lector. I just want.......I want this to stop. So I've told the husband to contact the school to see what we can do.

I was able to be selfish and self indulgent for 34 years. And then I became a mother. I turned in that card on the day Lou was born.

I resent it. Because I want to be young and free. But the truth of the matter is, if I were faced with no children or these children, I'd take these children 100% of the time.

Despite all their faults and my complaints.

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I Resent My Kid

You probably  know that our twins have autism. What you probably don't know, what most people don't know,it isn't what you think of from TV. It's not awkward people who speak brokenly and converse little or poorly. It's nothing like that.
Autism is not one thing. When you have strep throat, you have a specific bacteria and they can see it and medical science goes "Oh HAI Streptococcus here have some penicillin - BEGONE!." Sort of like that.

But, if you have autism, it's more of "Hmmm something is wrong, lets make a list of the things that aren't right and if enough of them fall into THIS sort of category, we'll call it Autism." That's why it's a spectrum - it's a sick rainbow of verbal and mental disability. The kind you don't want any part of.

At our house we dabble in a variety of severe autism that could certainly be worse but also is bad enough that we get fierce envy of those with moderate autism or even Aspergers. It causes stress and strife in ways I pretty much leave off this blog but it's making the headlines today because I'm cranky and feeling more than a bit selfish.

My sweet Miles, my boy who cuddles and kisses and says I love also has other problems. First of all, he has a form of separation anxiety when it comes to me that basically means he is with me, a few feet away, at all time when he is at home. He throws tantrums of both the bratty and the autistic kind. The most frustrating thing about Miles, until recently, is that he CAN speak. He can SAY anything. He can read and write and he can do math. At school. At home he's nearly nonverbal other than the nonstop echolalia (that's where the repeat stuff randomly, nonstop in our case).

We've started to have trouble though. Tantrums, spitting at people at school over the past few months. Screaming, raving, hitting, the sort of tantrums we don't get at home. Now in the mornings on the bus, he is screaming his hitting and kicking and spitting to the point that it's going to be a problem. It'll be our second go round with spitting on the bus. Last time they started talking "spit guard" but then, the bus driver and the administration had a go round and we got a new bus driver and started from zero.

But now it's looming. I feel it pressing down on me, and so does the husband. It's like when we're in public and one or both of them is "acting autistic" but people are looking at us like we're crazy. You know, because they "look normal" but don't "act normal".

Here we are.

My first reaction was, I don't care how much he screams and kicks and yells. I have THREE KIDS TO GET TO SCHOOL PLUS MYSELF TO WORK OMG I CANNOT DRIVE HIM TO SCHOOL.

My life, to a lesser degree than my husbands, is dictated to me by autism. My sleep last night for example, interrupted until about 2am by crying or screaming boys, is never guaranteed. My free time, ditto. I'm typing as fast as I can right now because disaster looms around every corner.

The twins are BEHIND me right now.  I can't see them. They could be doing ANYTHING.

My only pure moments of alone, Gidge time, exist in my bed when I am asleep (see above Miles goes into the bathroom with me always), and about 45 minutes every morning. Every morning after the twins get on the bus, I get the oldest boy out of bed and serve him breakfast and escape to this computer with a cup of coffee.

I talk to my people inside the shiny box. I do stuff that makes me happy. I shut off my brain and I escape. Into stupid hobbies and conversations and, it's wonderful. Then my time is up and I hop up and run off into the world.

But as I lay in their bed between them with one of them sobbing for no apparent reason and the other one singing ABCs, it just sort of washed over me that I was going to have to. Selfishness isn't an option when you are a parent. It's a luxury when you get to indulge in it. But, my child is terrorizing the other children on that bus by his behavior. How would I feel if MY special little boy was being terrorized by the bad child on the bus? I'd be pretty upset.

I want to protect his dignity, I don't want a spit guard he's not Hannibal Lector. I just want.......I want this to stop. So I've told the husband to contact the school to see what we can do.

I was able to be selfish and self indulgent for 34 years. And then I became a mother. I turned in that card on the day Lou was born.

I resent it. Because I want to be young and free. But the truth of the matter is, if I were faced with no children or these children, I'd take these children 100% of the time.

Despite all their faults and my complaints.

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